#- something he had never flown before because he was raised by the Blades in this fic's universe-

[kismetconstellations]

♡ ♡ ♡ for @sockdooe

[captains-simp]

can you do a fic where reader unintentionally breaks one of the rules by accident so she has to be punished but the punishment is being ignored by BOTH wanda AND nat and reader is uncomfortable with being ignored because it makes her feel invisible and like she's a ghost so like this is what happens, reader breaks a rule in front of wanda and nat but reader doesn't realize she broke a rule but wanda and nat punish reader without telling reader first, and they punish her by not acknowledging her presence and stuff then reader just breaks and starts crying and stuff, she's really upset until nat and wanda cave in and see what's wrong with reader because they didnt know that reader didnt realize she broke a rule and her punishment was being ignored by them

also nat is dom, wanda is switch (like wanda is sub to nat but dom to reader) and reader is sub also nat, wanda and reader are in a poly dom/sub relationship and dating

Oh my god is this ✨smut with a developed storyline✨?

Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanoff ~ 3rd Wheel

Warnings: debatable toxic traits, feelings of abandonment and unlove, fingering, praise, oral and hints of overstimulation

2.4k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You giggled as Sam made stupid sound effects every time he paused in telling his story. You were pretty sure the story wasn’t true but hearing him tell it was entertaining enough. He put his hand on your forearm as he laughed at his own comeback to some apparently ‘very real’ character in the story and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. That was until your other arm was grabbed and pulled you to your feet. 

“It’s late, we should go.” Natasha said curtly. You nodded and said goodbye to Sam with a tight hug and followed after the Russian as Wanda joined her at her side. 

“How did your meeting go?” You teased the redheads. Officially, what you had just attended was a party. Unofficially, it was a chance for Natasha and Wanda to gather more intel for a future mission that they had been working on for months. Tony, to no one’s surprise, was more than happy to help by hosting the party and it was just like any other to everyone else. You had missed your girlfriend’s company at first, but had eventually started socializing with the others and the night had flown by. 

When you were met with silence you assumed you didn’t hear either of their responses over the music so you sped up your steps slightly to stick close by. Once you got to the car you knew they were in a bad mood. It was one thing when one of them was mad but both of them was a whole other storm. Not that it was always bad. Sometimes they would take that anger out on you in the bedroom and you had secretly been dying to be fucked like that for a while. 

You tried to make conversation a few times, telling the pair about Sam’s story and how it was probably about as real as fairies but they still didn’t respond. Of course, you had no idea that these things were just making them madder and that Wanda and Natasha were communicating silently most of the time, discussing the meeting as they ignored you. You gave up eventually and gazed out the window as you fiddled with the fabric of your dress. 

Once you were home things only seemed to get worse. “I made dinner before we left.” You said as you looked under the grill to find that the three served plates were still fine and put them on the counter. You had cooked before getting ready because you knew your girlfriends were busy and were going to be hungry when they got home. You glanced at the two women to see Natasha undoing her girlfriend’s zipper and placing a soft kiss between her shoulder blades. You smiled at the tender site. 

“Hey, where’s my kiss?” You teased as Natasha started towards the bedroom but shouldered right past you. You looked to Wanda but she didn’t spare you a glance either as she strolled through the apartment to your shared bedroom. You watched them go with a dry mouth and dragged yourself to the bathroom where you struggled to undo the zipper of your dress before finally succeeding after five minutes of struggling and sore arms. One of the redheads usually did it for you before you could even think to ask.  

You stepped into the shower and tried to focus on the feeling of the hot water running down your body, hoping it would distract you from the dull ache near your heart. It didn’t work. You wondered if you had done anything to annoy them at the party but could think of nothing. With a disgruntled sigh, you turned off the water and stepped out of the safety of the shower. You quickly dried off and tiptoed to your now-empty bedroom to change into your pajamas. 

When you went back into the kitchen you found only one of the plates was left. You glanced over at the living area to see Wanda and Natasha curled up together on the couch under a blanket as they watched TV and ate the food you made. They could have at least warmed mine up. You grumbled to yourself as you put it in the microwave and made yourself a drink. You trudged over to the couch but Wanda extended her legs to cover the free space just as you were about to sit down. You looked up at them both but their eyes were still glued to the TV. 

You sat down tentatively on the armchair closest to the couch and started taking small bites of your food. You weren’t paying attention to the screen at all. Instead, your eyes kept flickering to the two redheads curled up on the couch together. They looked so warm and tender laying together. You wished so desperately you could be with them, but instead you just felt like an outsider. That had always been a big insecurity for you. Wanda and Natasha were both Avengers and you were just a normal citizen. You often wondered if you ever felt like a burden, the weak part of their relationship. You could never understand their lives the way they could, you could only watch. Usually, you would voice your concerns and insecurities to them and they would assure you to no end that they loved you more than anything. However speaking had gotten you nowhere that night, so you kept it to yourself. 

You sat in the living room for hours. You wanted to go to bed so badly. You were utterly exhausted and your eyes were starting to hurt from the lights in the room you wanted to be shielded from. But you were determined not to go until the other two did. You wanted to be curled up between them both like you always were. You wanted to feel safe and secure and most of all loved. 

Finally, Natasha turned off the television and stretched out like a cat on the couch before standing and making her way to the bedroom, leading Wanda by the hand. You put your uneaten plate of food on the side to deal with the next day, too tired to even think about it at that moment. The pair instantly dropped down into bed and Natasha held Wanda tightly as she rested her head on the Russian’s chest. You gazed down at them longingly but forced yourself into bed besides them. You reached out your hand to tug weakly on their shirts, desperate for any kind of acknowledgement but received none. You withdrew your hand and held it up to your chest as you watched the pair. How long had they been craving time to themselves? 

You slowly got out from under the covers and left the room without feeling their usual fond gazes on your back. You lingered in the hallway before glancing back and saw Natasha tracing circles on Wanda’s back. You gulped back tears and made your way to the spare bedroom where you slept alone for the first time in months. 

*

You didn’t get up until lunch the next day. You didn’t feel like doing anything, especially not facing your girlfriend. You wanted to stay out of their way to give them the alone time they so clearly needed.

When you had finally dragged yourself out of bed and into the hallway you froze. Wanda’s moans could be heard clearly from your bedroom followed by sharp cries of Natasha’s name. You stood rooted to the spot as the pain in your chest grew worse. Since they had so keenly invited you into their relationship. The pair had never once done anything sexual without you. At first you had been flattered and insisted that you were okay if they wanted to do things by themselves every once in a while but eventually you had grown used to how things were. You had grown used to being included in everything. 

Numbly, you made yourself a hot chocolate in hopes of it raising your spirits. Not long after you had finished, your girlfriends came wandering into the kitchen with a new glow. 

“Do you want a drink?” You piped up, you could at least be helpful. Wanda grabbed something from the fridge as Natasha took out a glass from the cupboard and spun around to kiss her girlfriend on the lips with a soft giggle. Wanda smiled against her and hummed when Natasha’s tongue teased the Sokovian’s lower lip. 

“I love you.” Natasha hummed and Wanda smiled with a blush as she said the words back. 

“I- I love you too.” You added and took a desperate step towards them both, holding out your hands to them but they separated and started to stroll back into the living room. You watched on as tears sprung to your eyes. They didn’t say it back. They always said it back. “Please.” You whispered though you may have well have been talking to a wall. You whimpered quietly and weakly made your way to the guest room where you closed the door and fell down onto the bed, not being able to stop the tears streaming down your face. You curled up on yourself and hugged your duvet as close to your body as possible, needing something to cling onto like a lifeline. 

You didn’t hear the door open through your muffled weeping. You did feel the gentle pair of hands on your waist and the dip in the bed either side of you. Your head shot up and you looked between the pair in panic, fearing they were going to tell you to go elsewhere for the day or even forever. Wanda shushed you softly and held your dampened cheeks in her hands. 

“It’s okay, honey.” Wanda cooed and you whimpered as you tried to enjoy what you assumed was the last time she would hold you. “We’re not going anywhere and neither are you.” You peered at her cautiously and then Natasha who nodded gently. 

“We’re sorry, baby. Sam was getting a little too handsy last night and you didn’t seem to notice.” Natasha explained carefully. You remembered the brief moment he had touched your waist and frowned at the memory. 

“And you know letting people touch what isn’t theirs is breaking a rule.” You nodded slowly as Wanda added on.

“So your punishment was being ignored by us so you could learn but we took it too far.” Natasha admitted.

“And we never told you what was happening. We’re so sorry we made you feel this way, sweetie. We love you so much.” Wanda said as she kissed you softly on the lips as Natasha lay down behind you and wrapped her arms protectively around your waist. 

“So so much.” She added. 

“Promise?” You asked and Wanda lay down to join you and wipe your tears away. 

“Always.” 

“Let us show you.” Natasha whispered against your neck and you nodded as she rolled you gently onto your back and began planting soft kisses along your neck, occasionally lingering on patches of skin to suck dark bruises into them. Wanda titled your head towards you and kissed you slowly, cherishing the taste of you and wanting to reclaim all that she could. 

Natasha’s hands started to wander down your stomach and landed at the hem of your sweatpants that she easily surpassed along with your panties. You gasped when you felt her fingers run along your folds and up to your clit. You bucked your hips and moaned against Wanda when she applied some pressure, all while the Sokovian started to retrace her girlfriend’s steps by running her hands across your breasts. Her thumbs brushed against your hardened nipples and she hummed against you. 

Natasha finally pushed two fingers past your folds and relished in the slick that coated them instantly. She curled them gently inside you and withdrew to start about making a consistent pace that had you melting beneath them both. 

“That’s it, sweetie.” Wanda assured in the most loving tone you had ever heard from her. 

“Taking me so well. Our best girl.” Natasha hummed and withdrew her fingers. You whined softly but shushed when Natasha brought her fingers up to Wanda’s lips and slid them inside. The Sokovian hummed in delight around Natasha’s fingers, eagerly licking her slender digits before retreating to start down your body, determined to gain an unfiltered taste. 

Wanda pulled your sweatpants and panties off completely and kissed up your thighs softly, taking her time in treasuring you just as Natasha had done with your neck. She gleamed at the sight before her and didn’t hesitate to lick a long strip between your folds. You mewled in Natasha’s hold as Wanda moaned against you. “Always so sweet.” She dipped her tongue inside of you and you clenched around her muscle with a gasp.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good for us.” Natasha praised softly as she started to rub your clit with her free hand. You bucked against both their movements, feeling beautifully overwhelmed by it all. Wanda’s tongue flicked inside you and you moaned loudly into the air, tempting Natasha to quieten you with a kiss while your other girlfriend continued to work between your legs that were beginning to shake. 

“Please.” You whined as you felt your high approaching. The pair smiled at one another as they continued to please you. 

“I can feel you clenching my tongue.” Wanda mused.

“Go ahead and cum for us, baby.” You did as you were told without a second’s delay. You moaned loudly into the air as you shuddered against the bed and came undone on Wanda’s tongue. The pair helped you ride out your high and into another orgasm relentlessly. They didn’t let up, making you cum again and once more, leaving you feeling utterly exhausted and overworked. 

“That’s it, darling. You did so good for us.” Wanda praised as she fell down besides you and they both held you protectively. 

“We love you.” Natasha muttered softly and you smiled.

“I love you both too.” You hummed, enjoying the warmth of your girlfriends’ comfort.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

BTS Scenario: An omega arrives in your pack (Hyungline x alpha/beta fem!reader)

Summary:  An omega joining a pack is a blessing - an unmated one is a miracle. So when the village elder came to you not with authority in her eyes but pity and pleading for understanding, you had no choice but to let him go.

Or, an omega joins the pack and you’re an alpha/beta in a relationship with another alpha. The community asks for your sacrifice. Warnings/Notes: Implied Smut, slight ass play, Angst, Drabble (no resolution... yet) I wanted to explore a different dynamic in the ABO Universe, since it’s usually Alpha BTS x Omega Reader but how about the Beta or even the Alpha reader? Hope you enjoy!  Word Count: 2k+ (500 per drabble) 

KIM SEOKJIN 

(after he’s called to participate in the matching, and Jungkook is an unmated male omega who’s always had a crush on you) (though crush is a understatement)

He’s here for a final goodbye, you think as you allow him to push you back against the wall.

He kisses you with desperation, all teeth and tongue, as if he wants to devour you whole. He reeks of her but you push it at the back of your mind, together with your instinct to gain the upper hand.

If this is goodbye, let it be as soft as you two could be.

You close your eyes to blink back the tears and wrap your arms around his neck. You match his passion kiss after kiss until you both are panting, breathing in each other.

Seokjin slows it down and pulls at your shirt, slipping it off your head. His eyes are wan, and he hasn’t met your gaze the whole time. It feels wrong, but then again, everything is.

So you try to bring back some normalcy and let the urgency in your touch show. Your arms slid down his shoulder, pushing him back into your room, your strength easily matching his.

In the dark of the room, you tug at his shirt but Seokjin grasps your hand away from his chest. You thought he’s going to lead you to his cock just as he did many times before, but he pulls you closer until there’s no more space between your chest and his and leads your hand to his hole.

He’s dry as the dessert but her pushes your hand closer, until your fingers tap his puckered hole.

You can feel him force himself not to tense up, breathing deeply and dropping his head to your shoulder. His back is caved over you, like a tall child and he turns to graze his lips against your ear.

“I’ll let you fuck me too, if that’s what you want, jagi.”

Your eyes widen and you try to pull your hand away but he holds it still. Your other hand tries to push his chest away but his other arm wraps around your shoulder blades, unwilling to let go.

He keeps still in the crook of your neck, murmuring words you never imagined you’ll hear from the alpha, “I’ll moan like he did. Beg like he did.” His voice shakes, and you startle at the tears wetting your skin. It doesn’t even occur to you to wonder how he knew about Jungkook, and what had transpired the night before because here he is.

He’s crying. Your alpha is crying.

“Just please don’t leave me.”

MIN YOONGI 

(Your love for Yoongi knows no bounds, you can give him this. In which your arranged marriage is thwarted.)

“It’s a good thing we’re not bonded yet, huh?”

You try not to wince at the relief in his voice and instead you laugh, hoping that the dark is enough to conceal the wobble on your lip.

You are both lying on your bed, exhausted by your hours long of… what do you call it again? Ah, he did call it his favorite recreational activity. He figured sexual compatibility is an important factor in arrange marriages earlier on your engagement.

And you, in love with him for more than half your life, said yes.

His fingers are playing with your hair, while his other hand lifts a lit cigarette to his lips. He glances down at you, his cat-like eyes half-lidded.

“You want a smoke?”

Pulling the blanket higher to your chest, relishing in the slight flicker of interest in his eyes, you shake your head. “Actually, can you not smoke on my bed tonight?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow but says nothing and puts out his cigarette against the ash tray on your bedside table. Usually, you take up on his offer, and he’s not gonna lie and say that the image of your lips around a cigarette doesn’t stir his cock alive.

“Not feeling well?” He asks, the only time you refused his offer was whenever you’re feeling the drop after your activities. But usually, you’ll tell him outright, communication being as open as you both could.

You let a small smile touch your lips at his tone. He cares for you, you know, maybe not as much as you want him to, but it’s enough.

Or it used to be enough.

“Just a mild migraine,” you lie before pressing a kiss against his shoulder.

Yoongi smiles and kisses the crown of your head, “You know what cures migraines?”

Your smile grows wider as you look up to his grin, his hand already sliding down the small of your back under your blankets. “I think I have an idea.”

By the time he’s pulled out 3 more orgasms from you, the moon has started fading from the night sky. The brisk winter air entering your room by the open window, drawing goosebumps on your skin.

Beside you, Yoongi sits up and pulls his shirt over his head.

“You’re not staying the night?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “The trials start the day after tomorrow, I’ve got to get a head start.”

Your press your lips together, your hand sneaking down your belly. You imagine your child, the size of a pea, hoping they do not hear your breaking heart. “I thought you didn’t like being choices taken away from you.”

That was one of the major points of discussion when your parents arranged your marriage. It’s also a source of your many arguments at the start, before slowly becoming some sort of unwanted roommate in your makeshift relationship.

Yoongi pauses, there’s something in your voice that he can’t pinpoint. He turns to you, for once, you are unreadable. “This is different.”

“Oh,” you breathe. How so, you want to ask. How come a choice robbed by our secondary natures so much different than the ones robbed by our parents? How come it’s the lesser evil in your eyes?

How come I was never a palatable choice in the first place?

But you don’t. Instead, Yoongi presses on. “At least now, you know, if it turns out that it’s me, you’re free. You can go to university just like you want.”

“Yeah…” you chuckle dryly, “Well, good luck then.”

You don’t beg him to stay, you’re an alpha too and an alpha protects their pack. As your hand travels down to your belly again, you remember - you have your own to protect now too.

JUNG HOSEOK 

(You’re just his best friend. What can you say?)

“She smells like lilacs! No, wait, honey! Honey and cream.” Hoseok sighs, all lovestruck on your couch over the new omega girl in town.

As part of the search party that found her, he hasn’t stopped talking about her for weeks. Giving you updates on her recovery in the beginning, and then her smile, her eyes, and the way she laughs as time went by.

At first, you didn’t mind. An omega joining the pack is a blessing, given their rarity. They symbolize fertility and bounty, and you are nothing if not loyal to the community. You foster the village children as their teacher, you teach them the ropes of the land - how to feed the cows, how to plant the seeds, and how to prepare for harvest - after all.

But as time went by, as Hoseok’s visits to her home frequent and his visits to yours lessen, it’s become harder and harder to keep the bitter thoughts away. Hoseok may still visit you, but when was the last time you two talked about anything other than her?

“The trials for her mate starts next week,” Hoseok starts, almost as if waiting for you to say something, “I’m thinking of participating.”

From the kitchen, you tighten your hold on the tray balancing your tea and snacks. Without a wobble, you inquire as you step back into your living room, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he picks up one of your cookies, suddenly looking all bashful, “I’m unmated and I’m not getting younger so, might as well give it a shot you know?”

You frown behind your tea cup, “We’re barely past our mid-20s, Seok-ie, that hardly qualifies as old.”

Hoseok leans back and tilts his head on the back of your couch until it hangs in relaxation. “It’s different between you and I.”

It’s true, betas are not so pressured to reproduce early. After all, there’s nothing special to be had in your genes, you think bitterly.

“Besides,” he continues, “I think I like her. You know, maybe we should invite her next time we hang out! You can get to know her too!”

“I’d rather not.” It spills over your lips before you could control it, and Hoseok stiffens before turning his gaze to you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re jealous.” Hoseok teases, unaware at how his words hit home.

You stiffen, biting your lip before the dam breaks. “Maybe I am.” you whisper.

He blinks in surprise at the feebleness of your tone, “B-but… you’re a beta.”

You know. You know your place, in this village and in his life but somehow it’s different hearing it from him. Standing, you  turn away to step back into your kitchen when a hand grasps your wrist.

“I don’t understand.” Hoseok whispers, trying to look up to your face but thwarted by your hair. He doesn’t need to see your watering eyes to know there are tears in them. He’s reeling from the sudden change of atmosphere, smelling your distress in the air.

Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by the sense of inferiority and your heart caves into itself. With the last of your strength, you shake off his hold, pointing to the door.

“I think it’s best you leave.”

KIM NAMJOON 

(Namjoon has always been a man of duty, and though you are tough and strong, there are limits to what you can and will endure)

You pride yourself to be level-headed, calm, and objective unlike many of the alphas in the pack. You’ve never lost your control, or flown into fury even during your youth but at this very moment, you summon all your discipline to keep your lips from pulling back and snarling at the older alpha in front of you.

How dare she?

How dare they ask this of you?

“It is his duty.” She repeats and beside you, Namjoon is silent. Eyes straight ahead, back as rigid as the trees outside your home. The home that you two built for your children that will come after your wedding.

The wedding that’s supposed to be in a month.

But the longer Namjoon stays silent, the farther that future seems to be. By the time the elder leaves your home, you don’t even see a speck of it in your mind’s eye.

The silence continue as you clean up the cups and uneaten rice cakes. The silent clink of the utensils echoing in your quaint home.

As you wash the dishes, you feel like an outsider watching your body go through the motions. Scrubbing the plate clockwise, once, twice, three times, before running it under the faucet. Next, you pick up the cups, here, clockwise, once, twice —

“It is my duty,” you hear Namjoon, and oh, he’s beside you, hand on your wrist, pulling your hands away from the frigid waters, “you know that, right?”

As one of the strongest and wisest alphas this pack has ever seen in generations, your betrothal to Namjoon was tolerated at best. Alpha bondings are common nowadays, with the scarcity of omegas. So yes, your betrothal was tolerated - just tolerated, even with you being as strong and as wise as your betrothed - but now?

With that young omega in the picture?

They are making you feel as if you’ve committed a grave sin against the community, as if it’s not within your rights to rage against the unfairness of it all.

They’re asking you for your love.

And he’s so willing to be taken away. Your heart breaks but you nod quietly, “I know. I understand.”

Namjoon stupidly thought that was the end of it. That you knew he’ll always come back to you, omega or not.

Maybe he was naive, or he truly was selfish to ask it of you but when he gets home the week after the trials to a dark cold house the surprise knocks him to his knees and drops his heart to his stomach.

You left the kitchen untouched, his mug still next to yours but, Namjoon pauses at the threshold of your room. There, glinting under the moonlight, sits your ring and the last of your scent wafts away.

END NOTES:  Hearts are appreciated but comments are gold. Let me know if this should have a second (or even third) part! :) 

[violetlilysunshine]

Always the Prettiest, Part 2

Chris Evans x Reader

Read Part 1 Here! 

Requested

Anon: Thank you for writing my request!! I loved it!! Would you write a part 2 of when she actually cuts her hair? Maybe Chris helps her do it?

WC: 2,154

Warnings: a little angsty-ish, swearing, mostly fluff, tiny mention of smut at the end.

A/N: Sorry this took so long! The first part wrote itself but this one I struggled to get down and had no idea how to end it, hope you still like it!

MASTERLIST

It was a few weeks later and you were set to fly out in two days to start filming. You were so excited to start your new role and take on this new character, but still couldn’t get over the fact that you had to shave your head. Yes, Chris had talked you down to normal, but now that it was time to do it, your insecurities were flooding in again. 

You sat on a barstool in front of the bathroom mirror, the counter lined with all of the tools you would need. You had decided that you wanted to do this yourself, hopefully surprising him when he got back, but that idea seems to have flown out the window. 

You had tied your hair into four ponytails, deciding to donate it because you might as well, and were ready to make the first cut when the front door opened and Dodger started barking. You knew it was Chris and having him around made your nerves jump even more. 

You put down the scissors and looked in the mirror at yourself again. “It’s too late to drop out,” you thought, taking a deep breath, “it’ll grow back eventually.”

“Baby, where are you?” Chris called from the door, still being attacked by Dodger.

“Up here,” you answered back, your voice small.

Chris hurried up the stairs, eager to scoop you up in his arms. He plowed through the bedroom door, Dodger hot on his heels, only to find it empty. He looked around for a second as Dodger nudged the bathroom door open with his nose. The light drew Chris’ attention as he followed his best friend. Your image quickly came into view and his demeanor softened. 

“Getting started, huh?” he asked quietly.

“Uh, yeah,” you breathed, “was thinking I’d maybe surprise you with it but I stalled too long and now you’re here,” you laughed lightly, trying to calm your nerves. 

“Want some help?” he asked, gently, understanding if this was something you wanted to do on your own, but he so desperately wanted to comfort you. 

You hesitated again, not knowing whether he would help or hurt in this situation. In the end, you decided that anything he was involved in was always better, “please,” you answered while you looked down at your hands fiddling with each other. 

“You sure, darlin’? I don’t mind if you wanna do it yourself,” he soothed. 

“I’m sure. I need you, bubba.”

“Okay, com’ere, “ he whispered, extending his arms and pulling you in. 

You tucked your head into his chest and he placed a few kisses on top of it as his hands ran up and down your back. You felt a few tears spring to the surface as he rocked you just barely. He squeezed you tighter, waiting for you to pull away first; he had all the time in the world to comfort you. 

You pulled back gently, keeping your hands on his sides, as you looked into his eyes. He looked back at you, having a silent conversion that only the two of you would understand.

“Ready?” he asked eventually.

“Ready,” you said, your breath a little shaky. 

“I think you should make the first cut, ya know? Be in control and all…” he suggested, gently. 

“Okay,” you breathed, picking up the scissors.

You brought the pair up to the first ponytail slowly; your hands shook as you grasped the hair in one of them, the other opened the scissors, capturing the bundle in between the blades. You let out a deep breath between your teeth. You closed your eyes and slammed the scissors shut in one quick motion. You felt the hair break away, allowing you to bring the bundle down into your hands. 

“Like a band-aid,” you whispered to Chris, eyes still shut.

He laughed back at you lightly, “yeah, a band-aid.” 

You slowly opened your eyes, first taking in the sight of the bundle in your hands, then glancing up into the mirror. Your eyes widened, seeing what hair was left sticking out in all directions because it was so short. You let out another heavy breath, looking over at Chris to see his reaction.

He was smiling at you genuinely, a twinkle in his eye. You laughed a little bit at him, not fully being able to discern what he was feeling, but he wasn’t looking at you with disgust, so that had to be a good sign. He glanced down at the bundle still clutched tightly in your hand before looking up into your eyes, his smile widening.

“Holy fuck,” you laughed, dropping the bundle onto the counter. 

Your hands reached up to feel the hair left behind; your heart was beating out of your chest. You felt kind of liberated, your feminism taking over as you laughed at yourself in the mirror. 

“Fuck beauty standards!” you yelled at yourself in the mirror, laughing loudly. 

Chris laughed with you, watching you embrace yourself. He’d never felt so in love with you.

For a second you felt so free, then reality smacked you back in the face. You still hadn’t finished and this wasn’t just a one day thing. Your hair would take forever to grow back and you wouldn’t look like yourself and what if you weren’t pretty anymore and Chris left you? The last thought cut you to your core as your shoulders sank. Chris saw the wheels spinning in your head and took the scissors from your hand.

“Let me help, yeah?” he asked, knocking you from your thoughts, “there’s no going back now, hot stuff,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

He repeated your earlier movements to the remaining three ponytails on your head, lightly chopping them off and dropping them next to the first. 

“Someone’s going to get a very beautiful wig,” he whispered as he placed the last one down. 

You kind of wished he hadn’t said that, again thinking that he thought you were beautiful because of your hair.

“But I get to keep the best part,” he added, arms wrapping around your shoulders as you stared in the mirror.

He kissed your face and head over and over, just holding you there for a while, letting you rest before moving forward. 

Once you started to wiggle in his arms, he reached out and grabbed the clippers. He placed the shortest guard on it, before plugging it in. You watched him do all of this, your stomach turning in knots and hands shaking. He reached out and took one of your hands, turning it over in his own before placing the clippers in it.

“You wanna take the first swipe again?” he asked quietly, but you knew it wasn’t really a question.

“Okay,” you breathed, wrapping your fingers around the base. 

You turned on the clippers, flinching a little at the buzz in the almost silent room. You slowly brought the instrument up to your head, aiming right in the center. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, before making contact. 

“There’s no going back baby, just do it,” he whispered.

You didn’t know why you were struggling so much; you’d already lobbed off all of your hair. You can’t put it back on, so what was the alternative?

Chris gently brought his hand up over yours, “together?” he questioned. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, lowering the clippers down and making contact before taking a long swipe straight out of the top of your head. His hand wasn’t really doing anything; he didn’t add any pressure or control your direction, instead he just steadied you.

You let out a deep breath as you pulled the clippers away and turned them off. The hair that you’d just shaved fell to the floor around you. You took a deep breath, staring at yourself in the mirror. Now you really had to do it, there was no way a hairdresser could fix this into some sort of Pixie cut. 

Your hands were resting in your lap gently holding the clippers. You raised the device up, holding it out to Chris gently, “can you finish it?” you asked, your voice so small it hurt him to hear. 

“Of course, honey, whatever you want me to do.”

You felt emotionally drained, still fretting about what would happen between you and Chris, but he insisted that this wouldn’t change anything. 

He worked his way around your head slowly, buzzing away the hair and brushing it off gently with his hands before taking another swipe. He soon finished, set down the clippers, and stepped away from you.

You took a deep breath, still watching your reflection in the mirror. “This is new,” you thought. You swiped your hands over your head, feeling the fuzz. It reminded you of when Chris buzzed his and it was so soft you couldn’t keep your hands off of it. At least you can do that all the time now. 

“I think I want to shower, ya know? Wash the hair off of me,” you said quietly.

“Okay, darlin’, I’ll be downstairs when you’re done,“ Chris answered, leaving you by yourself.

You felt like crying but didn’t, you weren’t really sad, just drained. You instead, swept up all the hair, discarding it in the bathroom trash, put away all of the tools you’d used, got out your best soaps and scrubs, and took a nice long, hot shower. 

You breathed deeply, letting the water wash everything away. It was nice to not spend 10 minutes on your hair, and not worry about brushing it once you’d gotten out, and then how you were going to style it. You ran your hands over it again in the mirror when you’d finished. You felt kind of liberated. Free. You weren’t weighed down by your locks anymore. You couldn’t hide behind it. You were coming around to the new cut. You applied some moisturizer before leaving the bathroom. You threw on one of Chris’ oversized sweatshirts, some leggings, and some fuzzy socks, before walking downstairs. 

You entered the living room, thinking Chris would be on the couch with Dodger, but you found him in the kitchen, his back to you as he stirred some pasta boiling on the stove.

“Hi,” you spoke quietly, letting him know you were there.

He answered, not turning around at first, “hi, baby, thought I’d make your favorite for dinner, alfredo, per your dad’s recipe of course, maybe it’ll cheer you up a - holy shit…” he cut himself off, finally turning around.

You ran your hand over your neck nervously as his eyes trailed up and down your body. You didn’t bother dolling yourself up, instead opting to be comfortable and cozy.

“What?” you asked, quiet as ever.

His eyes trailed over you some more, memorizing every detail of your body. He focused on your face for a few seconds before answering.

“You’re so…” he trailed off, “so gorgeous.”

“Really?” you asked, still a little insecure about the big change and its effect on your relationship.

“Absolutely, hot stuff,” he breathed, chuckling a little as he walked towards you. 

He reached your side and wrapped you in his arms instantly, planting a nice hard kiss to your mouth. 

“God I love you so much,” he breathed, pulling back a little, “I’ve never loved you more, actually.”

“Really?” you giggled, “even with no hair?”

“Even with no hair,” he chuckled back, “can I touch?” he asked.

Your eyes lit up and your smile widened when you heard him.

“Course,” you answered, again remembering how obsessed with his buzz you’d been.

He rubbed one hand gently against your head, a smile breaking out across his face.

“What’re you smiling about?” you giggled at him.

“Nothing, doll.”

“No, tell meeeeee,” you begged.

“Okay, okay, I love it, I do, I love seeing you try something new, but…” he trailed off.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, you didn’t want to hear a “but.” Your eyes widened as you shriveled inside yourself. 

“But, what?” you asked, voice small again.

“But I'm really gonna miss pulling it,” he laughed loudly.

You laughed back at him lightly, your heart lightening once again, “that’s exactly how I felt when you did yours, stud muffin.”

He laughed some more before squeezing you even tighter and kissing you again. This time taking things a step further and pushing his tongue in your mouth, “were you hungry now?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Not especially,” you answered, rubbing your hands up his sides, sliding under his shirt. 

“Well let’s put a pause on dinner,” he kissed you again quickly, turning around and shutting off the stove, “I’d like to find something else to grab onto, hot stuff.”

You laughed loudly this time as he dropped his hands to the backs of your thighs, lifted you up, carried you to the living room, and dropped you on the sofa, beginning to kiss up your body.

[blockgamepirate]

So we were talking on Discord about a DSMP superpowers AU, specifically Syndicate as an anarchist superhero team who are perceived as villains by pretty much everybody. (There were a bunch of people involved in the brainstorming but I wanna particularly credit @macachee for the idea for Techno’s superpowers, even though I ended up using a slightly different version than theirs.)

Anyway I know I don't really write fanfic anymore and I'm extremely rusty but uh... my hand slipped?

(CW: nothing major but there are repeated mentions of fire and some pretty tame violence)

×××

"Professor Underscore, I presume?"

The distinctive deep voice of an infamous supervillain was really not something anyone wanted to hear after 14 hours of last minute bug-fixing on a prototype superweapon in a secret laboratory. Especially when all your assistants had already called it a day and gone home.

Without even looking around, Tubbo reached for the gun in his desk drawer but before he could pull it out, a blade smashed into the wood right next to his hand.

"Nope", said the voice, "you don't get to have weapons, I get to have weapons. And speaking of weapons..."

Tubbo carefully turned around on his chair to face his attacker. As expected, it was a huge, hulking pigman dressed in flashy red and a golden mask.

"You are Protesilaus, aren't you? From the Syndicate?"

Protesilaus blinked at him. "You're a LOT younger than I expected, professor."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

"I mean it's very impressive though, good for you."

"Thanks."

"So anyway, I'm here for the weapons."

"The weapons are kinda reserved already. You know, for the military."

"Don't give a shit", said a voice from the door. "Gib."

Protesilaus sighed. "Zephyrus, you're supposed to be the secret back-up."

The man hiding by the door frame laughed. "We already took care of the guards. There's nobody here but him, it's fiiine."

"But what if HE has his own secret back-up? What then? Well, it's too late now so just keep a look-out, alright?"

Zephyrus laughed again. "Sure."

"Alright." Protesilaus pointed his sword at Tubbo. "Show us to the weapons."

×××

There wasn't much he could think of doing to stall except try and tap in the pin codes on the doors as slowly as humanly possible. To be fair he didn't even really know what he was stalling for exactly. Secret back-up would have been nice but if they’d really taken out all the guards then none was likely to come.

Protesilaus was following him, sword in hand, making random small talk on the way as if he didn't know how to deal with the silence. Tubbo had only caught a few glimpses of Zephyrus, the winged man, in the background or in reflections. He seemed to be tampering with the security systems on the way, meaning that Tubbo really might be completely alone on this if the sabotage was successful. Zephyrus was also pulling along a big wheeled container of some sort that was probably intended for the weapons.

The two of them were the known members of the Syndicate, a team of anarchist terrorists who gave nightmares to the local police forces, the national guard and occasionally the military, but it was also widely theorized to have a secret third member with fire powers. Nobody had ever managed to catch them in the act, the only evidence of the secret member's existence was the trail of smoking ruins following the pair, their targets always burned down in a blaze of extremely memorable pink flames.

Tubbo had a theory that there were actually two secret members in the Syndicate, because if you're going to have one secret member you might as well have two, right? Maybe even three! It just made sense.

His assistants hadn't seemed convinced by this logic.

They arrived at the large hall leading up to the main vault where the prototypes were hidden and Tubbo finally had a plan. Somebody (probably him, honestly) had left the remote control of his battle bots lying around on a sidetable. He took advantage of his captors checking the space for surprise guards and inched slowly towards the remote.

"Everything good up there?" Protesilaus called out to Zephyrus who had flown up to the rafters.

"All good."

"Alright, seems safe enough", said Protesilaus. "Now, open the vault."

Tubbo just needed to stall a little bit longer until he could grab the remote undetected. "Actually, maybe I just won't be able to live with the fact that I let you guys get your hands on superweapons? What if I'd rather die than let you have them?"

Protesilaus sighed. "Look, don't worry, it's for a good cause, I promise."

"I mean, you guys are supervillains."

"Oh yeah sure, you're literally making weapons for an imperialist government but we're the villains?"

"What about that orphanage you burned down?" Tubbo kept moving towards the sidetable, trying to make it look like he was just pacing nervously.

"I have NEVER burned down any orphanages, I do NOT have an irrational hatred of small children, in fact I LOVE orphans in particular, you can ask anyone."

"You did, though! That was like two years ago, back when you were part of the Sleepy Bois Inc!"

Tubbo actually knew quite a lot about the Sleepy Bois, the infamous villain team who were particularly known for conning people into taking part in some sort of strange experiments, like that time they somehow transported a hundred people to the moon and told them to terraform a random area. The group had broken up a while back and two of the four had since reformed. Well, more or less reformed anyway. Actually not really reformed, but they were at least sticking to smaller crimes these days.

Anyway Mr. Business was now one of Tubbo's best friends, although nobody was supposed to know that. And Dirty Crime Boy seemed like a surprisingly nice guy. He was out there running what seemed to be some kind of a drug van but Tubbo had chosen not to worry about it too much.

The other two members, however...

"Sleepy Boys? Doesn't ring a bell." Protesilaus' face was suspiciously blank.

"You know, back when you called yourself the Blood God."

"Nah nah nah, I'm Protesilaus, not the Blood God."

"Come on, you're OBVIOUSLY the Blood God."

"I've never even heard of that guy."

"You're LITERALLY a pigman with superhealing powers and a shiny magical sword, you wear a crown AND you're hanging out with a blond guy with wings who looks just like the Angel of Death."

"Wow, wild coincidence", said Protesilaus

“Not gonna lie, the Angel of Death is a really cool name“, said Zephyrus.

Tubbo ignored them. "And you sound exactly like the Blood God."

"I don't hear it", said Protesilaus.

"You said you don't even know who he is!"

"Exactly."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'EXACTLY'??? THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!!!"

"Well I can't hear it if I've never even heard him speak. That's just logic."

Up in the rafters Zephyrus was cackling like a madman.

"You annoy me so much", said Tubbo.

"Aaaanyways, just give us a little peek into the vault, alright? Just out of curiosity, you know."

Tubbo had made it to the remote, he just needed one more distraction to cover for him grabbing it. "Uh..." Then he had an idea: he just took a quick sudden glance at the exit, as if he'd seen something over there and sure enough both of the criminals immediately turned to check. It was just long enough. He got the remote. "Okay fine, you can see the vault."

"Nice, nice." Protesilaus was still glancing around suspiciously but he had no idea what he should have been suspicious of.

Tubbo was more than happy to open the vault now. It might be holding the prototypes but it was also filled with a small army of robots.

All of which came to life with the press of a button.

"Ah", said Protesilaus. "There's his secret back-up."

"Oh Jesus", said Zephyrus. "I think we fucked up."

"You could say that", said Tubbo. "If you just leave peacefully I might let you go", he added in a sudden fit of uncharacteristic levels of confidence.

Protesilaus raised his sword. "Well you see, I really want those weapons, though."

"I guess you'll just have to fight the robots for it then", said Tubbo, configuring the targetting system.

"Mate, they've got guns on them", Zephyrus called out from above.

"Take cover then", said Protesilaus, very much not taking any cover at all himself.

Tubbo, pretty sure the bots knew which people to fight, released them on the criminals.

Protesilaus immediately managed to dodge the first few lazer bolts from the bots, but the third hit him on the arm. He flinched a bit but didn't seem too bothered. "Ouch. Okay so they can actually aim."

Still dancing around the shots, he held his hand to the wound and once he took it off, only the singed hole on his sleeve remained. The Blood God had been known for some kind of healing powers and coincidentally Protesilaus of the Syndicate, who apparently definitely wasn't the Blood God, just happened to also have healing powers. This fight was going to be hard even for thirty robots.

The pigman finally took some cover, hiding behind a pillar. The robots would have to move closer and Tubbo could already tell that if he'd manage to single them out, Protesilaus would easily take them down one by one.

Even worse, Zephyrus had hidden behind a different pillar up near the ceiling and was sniping the bots from above. They were supposed to be bulletproof but the man was absolutely cracked and managed to keep hitting them in the joints and in the eyes.

But at least the bots had given Tubbo some room to work with. He bolted into the vault and headed straight for a very specific section.

"So I just wanna know, professor", Protesilaus called out from the hall, "how are you NOT the evil mastermind here? You have a LITERAL horde of robots in your control that you can just let loose on people!"

"What do you MEAN? They're for fighting people like you! In this exact kind of situation!" Tubbo found what he was looking for and quickly unbuckled the huge harnesses holding it in place. He had to get a stool to reach the highest ones and nearly tripped on it in his hurry.

"Oh and how many of these have you sold to the government? And what if they just decide that they'd be very convenient for taking care of dissenters?"

"Well if the dissenters are literal supervillains, that sounds great." He climbed the ladder on the wall up to the platform by the mech suit and jumped inside.

He couldn't hear what Protesilaus responded after he pulled down the dome of the suit over his body. The sounds of fighting and the bulletproof glass drowned it all out from this distance, and the sound system wasn’t turned on yet. Now the odds should be a lot more even, though. Let’s see how they deal with this, he thought. He settled in and launched the mech--

... and then maneuvered awkwardly through the mess of secret weapons and machines inside his vault. He was pretty sure he didn't break too many things on the way, it was fine. In the corner of his eye he thought he saw a flash of pink and for a second he worried that the pigman had followed him into the vault where it would be almost impossible for him to fight in the suit but luckily he could still hear the sound of sword clanging into metal from outside.

He moved over to the vault door as sneakily as he could while piloting a 12-foot-tall machine in a tight space and looked out into the hall. The floor was littered with broken robots, and there were several blinded ones aimlessly wandering around and getting in the way of the ones that still functioned properly. Protesilaus was towards the back of the hall, stabbing a bot in the armpit and tearing off its arm, Zephyrus on the other hand, still perching on the rafters, had moved around the pillar he had hidden behind, now aiming away from the vault. Neither of them were looking at Tubbo. He took aim and shot at one of the huge grey wings.

"Ah! Fuck!" Zephyrus spun around. "You little shit!"

"Zephyrus, are you okay??" Protesilaus immediately looked over to his ally and took another hit himself.

"I'm FINE, dude!" Zephyrus sounded exasperated but fond. "Look out yourself! Also the kid has a fucking mech."

"A what?"

Tubbo slammed the vault door shut. Good luck getting in there now, Syndicate. Then he tossed aside some robot carcasses to clear out the floor and threw one at Protesilaus who dodged it easily but in the process took another hit from a different robot. He was starting to look tired and he was obviously distracted by Zephyrus getting hurt. That was promising.

Tubbo started climbing the pillar up to the ceiling. Zephyrus cursed again and tried to hop around the pillar to run across to the other side but his hurt wing didn't open properly so he lost his balance, slipped up and fell. "Shit!"

"ZEPHYRUS!"

The man managed to open his wings and soften the fall but the injury made him veer dangerously to the left and crash into a pile of broken robots. Protesilaus leaped over to him, dropping his sword and laying his hands on his friend's wing and back. A faint red glow emitted from the touch points.

Tubbo jumped back down to the ground and stormed at them. He punched the pigman right in the chin, sending him flying across the room. He then tried to grab Zephyrus but the man had already slipped away and had apparently managed to pick up his friend's sword. "You motherfucker", the man said, "I'm going to take that fucking suit apart and then it's your turn."

"Zeph!" Protesilaus called from the side and Zephyrus tossed the sword to him without taking his eyes of off Tubbo. Then the man pulled up his sniper rifle again and Tubbo quickly covered his weak points with his armoured arms and jumped behind a pillar. He needed to disarm Zephyrus ASAP.

Behind them, Protesilaus was taking care of the last few robots. Tubbo didn't have much time, but he couldn't do anything until Zephyrus would have to reload, the guy was just too accurate...

"Oh fuck", said Zephyrus suddenly. "Prot, the door!"

They all turned to look at the exit.

There, at the door, was Ranboo, widened eyes flicking between Tubbo, the broken robots and the Syndicade. He was holding a bowl of biscuits and a cup of tea. "Uh... hello? Hi?"

Ranboo was actually NOT allowed in the vaults but how do you stop someone who can literally teleport anyway? Tubbo was glad to see him sneaking in, though.

"Ranboo! Help! They're trying to steal the weapons!"

"I..." Ranboo seemed frozen in place.

"Ranboo!" Tubbo was starting to get worried. His husband wasn't even taking any shelter. He drove the mech over to him to at least give him some protection.

"I just came to bring you cookies? Coz I thought maybe you were staying late to make the deadline and I thought--"

"Ranboo, I'm being attacked by supervillains right now!"

"Look, what if we just talked this through? I'm sure everybody here would rather not kill each other, right?" Ranboo was tall enough to lay a hand on Tubbo's shoulder even when he was wearing the mech suit which kind of pissed Tubbo off to be quite honest.

"Sure", said Protesilaus, "I love negotiating. Give us the weapons and their blueprints and we're more than happy to go."

"See? That's good, right? Tubbo, we can just let them have the weapons."

"Ranboo, sometimes you're a bit too quirky for my liking. Stop being quirky, help me fight them. You can use your... T-E-L-I-P-O-R-T-A-T-I-O-N powers."

Everybody just stared at him for a second.

"Shouldn't it be T-E-L-E?" said Protesilaus.

"Tubbo, you realise they can spell words too, you know, like most people who graduated elementary school?" said Ranboo.

"I'M SORRY! I'M TIRED, OKAY?"

“You could have just said ‘use your powers’, I mean, I know what my powers are.”

“IT'S BEEN A REALLY LONG DAY!“

"Zephyrus, I think this guy might be too much for us, I've never met such intimidating intellect", said Protesilaus. Zephyrus seemed to already be dying of laughter and his ally's words did not help.

"Now that's just rude," said Tubbo.

He'd barely finished his sentence when a horrible whistling sound hit them all like an invisible cargo train. After a second Tubbo managed to reassemble his braincells long enough to figure it out: "The fire alarm!"

Then he noticed the grin on his enemy's face. "Well, good job, everyone! Let's go home, Zephyrus", said Protesilaus cheerfully.

"Sure, mate."

The secret third member of the Syndicate, Tubbo suddenly remembered. The container they'd brought with them was gone too. Well, fuck. "This whole thing was a diversion??"

"Yep." The Protesilaus was already at the exit and Zephyrus was following right behind him. "See ya, losers!"

Something inside the vault exploded, making a muffled bang through the door, as if just to prove where exactly the fire had been lit.

"Oh man..." Tubbo flopped down on his seat. "I spent SO LONG building all those things!"

"Tubbo, we need to get out." Ranboo took him by the hand of his mech suit and pulled him along.

"No, we could still go in and save the--"

"No, Tubbo. Let's NOT run into the vault full of dangerous chemicals that's literally on fire, actually."

×××

By the time the fire department showed up, pink flames had enveloped the entire lab complex. The terrorists presumably had at least one of the prototypes now and all the remaining ones were a lost cause.

It's not like all the work was gone to waste, they'd made some backups at least, but it would be a pain to find a new lab and order all the extremely volatile chemicals again. So much paperwork. Tubbo was really not good at paperwork.

"Well, there goes my summer holidays I guess", he said.

"Yeah", said Ranboo. "There they go."

×××

"So... Lethe", said Techno at the next Syndicate meeting, "you never happened to mention you were friends with Professor Underscore."

Ranboo shifted nervously in his chair. "I mean... in my defence, you never said you were going to raid his lab?"

"True, true. It didn't seem like relevant information at the time I suppose. You know, because you're kinda more in the group just for the book club and Bake Off Fridays and not so much for the vigilante thing."

"How do you know Professor Underscore, Lethe?" asked Niki gently.

Ranboo looked around the table. He was fairly certain that the others wouldn't kill him for fraternizing with the enemy. He was pretty sure anyway. At least 70% sure.

Also they were all staring at him now.

"Uh... he's my... husband?"

The staring continued.

"Oh!" said Niki.

"Well", said Techno. "This is awkward."

"Uh huh?" Ranboo responded, his entire body tense and slightly wobbly.

"Techno", Phil said softly. Techno brushed him off.

"So uh, are you attached to him, Lethe?"

"Y-yes?" Ranboo straightened his back. "Yes." he said again, more firmly.

"Alright. I guess in the future we should try not to kill him then."

[wormstacheangel]

"Samstiel? Sastiel?" "Shut up, Sam!"

Word count: 2639

Sam drinks a little love potion that makes him fall for Cas. Dean is not really happy about it when him and Cas are still so new. A little jealous Dean and Cas being a cute boyfriend.

--

“Over there!” Dean whispered out as he pointed with his gun to the room he saw the witch disappear into. 

Following the witch into a big factory that might as well be a maze to them was probably not the brightest idea they had. They have been tracking the damn witch for a week now though and they weren’t going to lose her when they were so damn close. He only had two witch killing bullets left though but he was sure Cas and Sam had more. 

Cas went into the room first with his gun drawn but the angel blade easily accessible just in case. Dean followed in right behind him, almost shoulder to shoulder, while Sam followed a few steps behind to watch their backs. 

“Wonderful.” Dean heard the voice behind him and then quickly turned when he heard a gunshot go off. 

He watched the witch throw something at them and they all froze with groans, fingers ready on the trigger. She whispered something under her breath before she walked around them, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders as she grinned up at them.

“Winchester’s and their pet angel or I should say formal angel.” She hummed happily as she reached over to touch Cas’s face with her fingers. Dean could only see from the corner of his eyes as he tried to get control of his finger at least so he could pull the trigger when needed. “So famous but I don’t want any trouble. My business here is done so I’ll be leaving. Just to make sure you don’t get any funny ideas I’ll give you a small distraction. More for my entertainment and I’m sure a little nuisance for all of you. Still,” She walked over to Sam and carefully opened his mouth to pour something down his throat while Dean struggled to move, a low groan struggled to get out in his throat. “Don’t worry. Nothing deadly, just some fun. Can’t have the queen be too angry at me.”

She winked at them as he turned Sam around to face Cas. “There! Now the fun can start!”

She started walking out of the room and with a snap of her fingers they all got their control back. Dean pulled the trigger but missed and lost his last two bullets. He started chasing after her but then heard Cas call out to him.

He turned around to see Sam hugging Cas- no...no hugging would at least be a little more normal. Sam was full-on snuggling the ex-angel of the lord. 

“Sam, please,” Cas struggled to push Sam off of him. “The witch, Sam.”

“Let Dean take care of it. I can’t have you getting hurt, Cas.” Sam nuzzled his nose against their best friend's cheek. “Let’s go wait in the car. Do you want to go and eat something after this? I know you like ice cream. Do you want to go get some ice cream?”

Dean could only stare at the odd picture before him. He would have laughed if it didn’t bring a heat at the pit of his stomach. Jealousy taking over as he stomped over to push Sam off Cas. 

“Dude, what are you doing?” Sam shoved at Dean before reaching for Cas again but he moved to stand between them. Sam did that annoyed twitch of the mouth, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek, as he stared down at him. “Dean, move.”

“I think the witch may have given him some sort of spell,” Cas told Dean as they both watched Sam slowly turning red-faced. 

“Yeah, genius, I got that,” Dean muttered at him and then nearly misses a fist from Sam. “Sammy!”

“Don’t talk to Cas like that!” Sam yelled at Dean as he took that chance to grab Cas’s wrist to shield him behind his overgrow body. “You’re always such an asshole to him!”

“Am not!” Dean argues back and then groans in annoyance. “Why am I arguing with you? Cas, control your new boyfriend.”

Cas poked his head from behind Sam to glare down at Dean, eyebrow raised. “New?”

Dean’s face flushed as he looked away from Cas to mumbled, “You know what I mean.”

Dean and Cas were still sorts of new. No labels just yet because they still had a lot to work through but they shared the occasional kiss. Enjoying each other’s company whenever the opportunity came around and just held one another for comfort. A nice nap snuggled up in one of the recliners in the Dean Cave.

So watching his brother reach to take his almost-boyfriend hand was weird, especially when he definitely had a girlfriend. 

“How about we go get that ice cream, Sam?” Cas asked as he twined their fingers together and smiled up at his little brother. 

Dean’s jealousy rose but he tried to fight it back. Knowing it wasn’t Sam’s fault but hating how he grinned down at Cas. Hating more when he lifted Cas’s hand to press against his lips before he led Cas out of the damn room. Not missing the blush on Cas’s cheeks as he smiled shyly back at Sam. 

“Fuck me.” Dean muttered to himself as he kicked the air and then quickly went to catch up with them. 

At the diner, Dean was on the phone with Rowena as Jack had flown down to watch Sam fall all over Cas. 

“They’re so cute.” Jack cooed at them as Sam wrapped an arm around Cas’s shoulder to pull him close while trying to feed him a fry. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean rolled his eyes as he kept waiting for Rowena who was flipping through some sort of book as she once again asked for a picture. “Jack has enough pictures to remember this nightmare.”

“Dean, why don’t you at least try to eat something.” Cas pushed his plate over to him but Dean shook his head as he pushed the plate back.

“I’m not hungry.” He got up to walk outside but Sam grabbed his arm. Dean shook it off as he glared back at his brother. 

“Talk nicely to him, Dean. I’m warning you.”

Dean rolled his eyes and continued walking back outside. Hearing Jack ask for them to pose for another picture to send to Claire who didn’t believe him apparently. 

While Dean leaned against his car Rowena told him that the spell was harmless and will pass through his system in a couple of days. “Nothing really you can do but wait it out.”

Dean shut his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Sighing in defeat as he nodded, “Okay, well thanks anyway. I’ll have Jack send you those pictures.”

“Oh, he has! They do look quite adorable don’t they.” She teased and Dean said his quick goodbye before hanging up.

“Bad news?” He looked up to see Cas walking over to him with a sheepish smile on his face. He stopped in front of him and then reached to kiss Dean’s cheek, instantly relaxing him. “It’s okay, Dean.”

“How is this okay?” Dean hesitantly reached to wrap his arms around Cas’s waist to pull him close. Hugging him to his chest as he hides his face into Cas’s neck, relaxing as the calm scent of Cas surrounds him. “I haven’t even taken you on a damn date yet and here is Sam buying you ice cream already.”

He feels Cas wrap his arms around him, one of his hands going up and down his back while the other plays with his hair. He smiled against Cas’s skin as he relaxed into the familiar touch. So new and yet familiar all at once. 

“It’s okay cause I’m yours. Not Sam’s.” Cas tells him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus, I am pretty sure Sam is in love with Eileen.”

Dean pulls away to let their noses touch before he pressed his forehead to Cas’s own. Then teasingly he asked, “So you’re mine now?”

Cas hummed in agreement as he smiled back at Dean, nuzzling their noses together as they both grinned. “Haven’t I always been?”

They both chuckled softly as they tilted their head just enough to press their lips together for a soft kiss. One that never failed to bring a shiver down Dean’s spine and his toes curl up. Kisses were still new to them and Dean cherished each one he did get. 

“Cas!” They heard Sam call out and Cas pulled away too soon, always too soon. 

“Don’t be so jealous of your brother and let’s take him home. Maybe seeing Eileen will snap him out of it.” Cas tells him before he completely escaped Dean’s grasp and walked to where Sam was still calling out to him. 

Dean stayed there for a few seconds, his lips still tingling from the kiss before he took a deep breath to follow them back to the diner. Watching as Sam wrapped an arm around Cas’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss his cheek.

“Fine,” Dean rolled his shoulders back. “I’m fine.”

The drive back was just a pain as Sam sat in the back seat with Cas, sleeping with his head on Cas’s shoulder while Cas read the book he brought. Jack sat shotgun as he had his headphones on while he played some dumb game on his phone. Cas met his stare every once in a while on the rearview mirror and shared a soft smile with him. Reassuring him that everything was fine. That they were fine. 

Eileen met them in the garage and when Sam saw her he pulled her into a hug. Dean thought that she may have broken the spell-like a cute sleeping beauty story but it only gave Sam a headache as he fought to be with both Eileen and Cas. Dean reached over to check on him but Sam just pushed him away as he told him he was fine before he fell back into Cas arms. 

Eileen smiled, probably the same one Dean has had the whole time. A little awkward and hurt but there was no reasonable reason to be mad when this situation was not normal. Even for them. This was something they couldn’t really control. Even with Cas trying to set boundaries between him and Sam.

“I’ll sleep in my room. You go to bed, Sam, and I’ll see you in the morning.” Cas told him and Dean had to fight that lump in his throat, the bubbling jealousy in his stomach because Cas hasn’t even slept over in his room before. Now Sam is gonna steal that first too?

“Are you going to go with...him?” Sam motioned at Dean with his chin. “Dean, how about you leave us alone for five minutes?”

“How about you shut up and do what you’re told for once?” Dean says back to him. “Go to bed, Samuel.”

“Fuck off, Dean.” Sam tells him as he takes Cas’s arm to lead him inside his room. Dean motions to stop him but Cas holds his hand out. 

“It’s okay, Dean.” He smiled reassuringly at him. “I’ll just stay until Sam falls asleep and then head over to my room. Is that okay?”

“Why are you asking him for permission, Cas?” Sam says as he wraps his arms around Cas’s shoulders from behind him. “He’s not in charge of you.”

Dean locked his jaw to hold back his words before he turned away to walk back to his room. “Whatever. Goodnight.”

“Dean.” Cas called out to him but he kept walking until he made it back to his room and closed the door behind him. 

It was only a few minutes later when Cas was walking into the room, knocking be damned because Cas was annoyed with him. 

“Dean,” He starts again but Dean was already walking over to him to bring him into a kiss. The action surprised Cas as it was one they never really done before. The kiss was not the usual slow or sweet ones they give each other. No Dean was feeling too much to restrain himself. 

He didn’t mean to be so possessive, people can flirt all they want with Cas and Dean wouldn’t bat an eye because they were strangers, but this was Sam. His best friend so Cas was being nice to him. Humoring him because Cas was a rational person and knew this was only a spell. Knowing Sam didn’t actually want him in his bed but the spell did. Dean was having a hard time watching. 

He already couldn’t believe Cas wanted him at all. Always thinking Cas deserved to live the rest of his human life with someone more deserving of his love and seeing him with Sam made him wonder if Cas was rethinking his choice. Maybe he picked the wrong brother. 

Cas pulled away from the kiss breathing heavily as he looked back at Dean with a ditzy smile. “Wow. You’ve been holding back on me.”

“I-I love you, Cas.” Dean says as he pulls Cas into a tight hug. His chin resting on top of Cas’s shoulder as he gripped at his still not official boyfriend. 

He could feel Cas suck in a sharp breath as he stood still in Dean’s arms, “You...you do? I mean,” Cas pulls away just enough to make Dean look at him. “I know you do but you’ve never said it before. Out loud at least. Are you that jealous of Sam?”

“I just want to make sure you know where I stand,” Dean explains to him as he runs his hand down Cas’s jaw until he lets it rest at Cas’s neck. “I know I’m not really good at expressing myself but I’ll try harder, Cas. I promise.”

A gentle smile spread on Cas’s lips as he reached to kiss Dean one more time. So tender and warm that it instantly filled Dean with reassurance. 

“I love you, Dean. I’m in love with you.” Cas said against his lips as he slowly started to pepper him with kisses. Dean stood still with a slow-building grin as Cas kissed his jaw, his nose, his eyelids, his cheeks, and then ended on his forehead before he pulled away. “Please don’t worry so much.”

“Stay?” Dean asked as he nuzzled his nose into Cas’s throat. “I always sleep better in your arms.”

“Of course, Dean.”

The spell ended up lasting three long and slow days. One moment Dean and Sam were arguing about who gets to sit next to Cas during movie night and the next Sam blinks himself out of it. His shoulders falling forward as he holds his head in his free hand.

“Wow. What...what happened?” Sam rubbed his temple and then looked down at his other hand to see his fingers were still twined with Cas’s. “Dude, why are you holding my hand?”

“Fucking finally. Let go of my boyfriend, bitch!” Dean reached over and pretty much karate chopped their hands apart.

“Ow! Jerk!” Sam rubbed his hand as he held it close to his chest. Eileen then took the chance to bring Sam down for a hug. He rubbed her back as he softly asked her, “You okay, sweetheart?”

Jack ended up being the one explaining what had happened as Sam sat down looking through the slideshow of photos on their kid’s phone. His face getting redder as he kept on swiping but now that it’s over, and Cas was curled up beside him on the couch,  Dean could laugh at the situation. 

That is until Cas said, “We can still go on that date you planned, Sam. It would be fun.”

“No.” Dean said slowly before quickly adding, “No. No. No. No more dates.”

“Sure, Cas. It’ll be nice to catch up.”

“No!”

--

Tag List: @galaxycastiel

[pparkerpoetry]

Face Reality (Part 6)

Title: The More the Merrier (and a whisper of who he once was)

Summary: Tommy brings home one. Ranboo and Fundy bring another. Sam knows that his kids are going to give him grey hair by the time they all decide to settle down, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

(but the additions bring questions. questions bring up a past. the past is never a good thing.)

WARNING: brings up past suicide attempt

Part 1 Part 7 Masterlist

______

Tommy stood above a large obsidian grid, staring down at the hole that had once been his home. It was all gone, now, and he couldn’t even manage to summon tears. It was too sudden for him. Too new. 

He hated everyone who had done this to him. He hated them all, how each one had abandoned him in their own way. He knew some of them didn’t have a choice, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

He hated Technoblade. He tried to, at least. He’d finally gotten back a small form of family, only for a second fuse to be lit. He was accused of stealing gifts, accused of betrayal for fighting for his home, fighting for the last connection to Wilbur, fighting for a place in the world that hated him so much. He hated his brother for making him fight when he should’ve been able to be a kid.

He hated Philza. Not his dad. He had been left alone, so young, with nothing to cling to but the promise of seeing his father again. A promise that was broken. A promise that was only fulfilled years and years later, once Tommy had been raised by war and violence, feelings numbed by loss and pain. Philza hadn’t been the one to raise Tommy, Wilbur was. And Wilbur was taken from him. He hated Phil for giving him the gift of flight, a constant reminder of his family that he would never be able to get rid of, that no one even bothered to find out about.

He hated Dream. He really did. Tommy had been manipulated, and broken down, and tricked, but no one had learned of it. He was alone, and Dream stood by his shoulder to oversee the ruins that he’d torn down. The ruins of what? Tommy’s life? His mind? His wings, messy and missing feathers from the explosions? Tommy hated Dream with a passion, but by then, the anger had gotten so hot that it numbed him. He felt nothing but the pulse of his heart that sometimes he wished wasn’t so loud. Maybe it’d all be easier if it stopped.

But, most of all, he hated himself. He hated that he’d just let it all happen, and he hated that he still breathed the air, however dusty and blood-scented it was. The only thing he felt that was stronger than the hate now was fear. Not for himself. 

Where was Tubbo? Was he okay? He needed to get to Tubbo.

Tommy woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavy. He was alone in his room, meaning that Fundy had probably gone over to Ranboo’s. He almost followed, but his mind was hazy and he needed someone else. He needed someone that wasn’t there, but maybe if he left-

Could he leave?

Of course he could. This wasn’t exile. Dream wasn’t here. Dream was in prison. Dream wouldn’t hurt him anymore. Dream couldn’t. Could he? 

He needed to leave.

Tommy clambered out of bed, feet hitting the cold floor and he paced over to where he kept his boots. His hand ghosted over his coat, but he left it behind. He needed his wings out. The coat would slow him down. He got outside as quietly as possible, hoping that he didn’t wake up anyone. The grass was shining with dew, and it would’ve seemed almost mystical if he’d bothered to notice it.

Instead, he unfurled his wings. They weren’t in the best of shape, as they hadn’t been preened in a while. Had they ever been? He couldn’t spend time thinking about that. He needed to leave. Tommy paused for a moment, relishing in the breeze ruffling through his feathers before he leapt up and caught the wind, flapping his wings to gain height. 

It had been a long time since he’d flown. He usually didn’t, what with Dream’s no-flying policy, but Dream couldn’t stop him now. He didn’t think anything could stop him. He needed to go.

Tommy ignored the large black prison that came into his view, and focused on the suddenly brisk wind that hit his face and made him cold. Maybe he should’ve brought that coat. He let his mind wander until his feet hit the snowy ground, making a slight crunch that shook him from his thoughts. 

Maybe he was imagining it, but he could’ve sworn that he heard yelling as he neared Snowchester. The closer he got, the more a feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. As he got closer, he could hear it.

“Why now, after all this time?” That was Tubbo. Was he okay? Hurry. “I thought we were friends! I thought that everyone was peaceful! Why stop now?”

Another voice spoke up. “Well, Niki left, so I figured that it was over. But then, I thought about it. I acted. I faked everyone out, got an alibi. No one will even think I was here. I want to kill Tommy, but that would be too kind. But what better way to make him suffer worse, than by killing you?”

Tommy didn’t have time to register who it was before his blood ran cold. He broke into a sprint and burst into the cottage, throwing his wings out to protect Tubbo from the sword that was brought down. He didn’t have any weapons, but he needed to save Tubbo.

He felt the blade slice the feathers on his wings, and the soft trickle of blood that followed. 

He opened his eyes and saw Tubbo, cowering, blood on his face and eyes shocked. He knew that whoever was threatening him was still there.

Tommy turned around.

Jack Manifold stood there, sword still loosely held in his hands. 

“You want to kill me?” Tommy rasped, voice rough from the sleep that he’d woken from not that longs ago. “You’re gonna need more than a sword. I’ve tried.” Jack looked horrified, and Tommy managed a broken grin. “That was a while ago, though. Maybe it’d work now, but no matter how many times I killed myself back then, I kept coming back. Some cruel trick that Dream played, probably.” The blood was flowing from his wing heavier now, and the world was tilting. His brain was fuzzy. 

He didn’t remember falling on the ground or when Tubbo moved to look at him, but it happened. Tubbo looked scared. He was saying something that Tommy couldn’t hear. Why was Tubbo sad?

“Don’t be sad.” Tommy mumbled. “Ask Sam to make you hot chocolate. It’s the best. It’ll make you happy.” Why was Tubbo crying?

__________

Sam didn’t expect to be woken up very early, and even if it was, he wasn’t expecting it to be Tubbo calling him. He reached across to the nightstand and grabbed his communicator, accepting the call.

“Hello?”

Tubbo sounded like he was crying. “Sam! Thank God, Sam. Tommy- Tommy’s here and he’s bleeding, Sam help him, please, Sam what do I do? How do I stop it?”

Sam was fully awake now, leaping to put on his shoes. “Put pressure on the wound, Tubbo. You need to breathe, bud. Where are you?” He heard Tubbo take a few deep breaths.

“We’re in Snowchester.”

Though Tubbo couldn’t see it, he nodded, and grabbed his trident. “I’ll be there soon, Tubbo, okay? Breathe. Do you want me to stay on call?”

Tubbo said that he didn’t have to, so Sam ended the call and left the house. He looked up and was grateful to the rain, which would let him travel much faster.

He reached Snowchester and didn’t stop running until he saw Tubbo and Tommy. He thought the wound would be on Tommy’s body, but instead, the blood was all dried on his feathers. Was he even qualified to work with wings?

Sam considered calling Philza, but instead he did some quick research, stuff about blood feathers, or something. He wouldn’t bother Phil. There was no reason to bother Phil. He didn’t particularly trust the winged man, either.

Tubbo was still shaking, so Sam knelt next to him. “Hey, Tubs, I need you to breathe. This isn’t as serious as it looks, okay? It’ll heal. Tommy’s going to be okay.” It would take time, but it would be fine.

Eventually, he got Tubbo to calm down, and he moved to Tommy. He had probably just passed out from exhaustion, because Sam had been noticing he wasn’t getting much sleep. The feathers that had been broken weren’t all bleeding, and the ones that were had slowed. Tubbo had done well in putting pressure on the wounds, so there really wasn’t much he could do, other than get Tommy back home. 

It took some thinking, but then Sam began to move. Using some bandages that he’d brought, he folded Tommy’s wings and bound them into a sort of sling, then gathered Tommy’s long limbs into his arms. He stood up, and went to leave before he noticed Tubbo still trembling in a ball on the ground.

“Hey, Tubbo?” He waited until Tubbo looked up. “Do you want to come with me? I’ve got a spare room that you can stay in as long as you want.” Tubbo didn’t need to know that it was actually for him.

Tubbo stood up shakily, and nodded. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Sam managed to hold Tommy with one hand, and held the other out to Tubbo. Slowly, they made it home, where they belonged.

When they opened the door, Fundy and Ranboo were waiting anxiously. They wanted to ask questions, but they stopped when they saw Tommy, passed out and thrown over Sam’s shoulder. There were more important things to worry about. 

Sam put Tommy back in his bed, and went to tend to Tubbo. He had some cuts that he had been trying to hide, but Sam noticed that type of thing. He had to, with the collection of self-sacrificing people he was housing.

Once Tubbo was all set, Sam let him go to Tubbo’s room. They’d been separated long enough. Sam left and went to where Ranboo and Fundy were waiting, questions barely pushed down.

He answered them as best he could, but soon enough, he was passed out on his bed, ready to sleep for another few hours.

Being a brother- dad? Was exhausting.

_________

Tommy woke up, ears blearily looking around. A head of brown hair was tucked into his side, and as he laid there, the memories came flooding back. He sighed, and went to put a wing around Tubbo before realizing that his wings had been bandaged. He stifled a groan, but it woke Tubbo up anyway.

“Are you okay?” Tubbo asked, and Tommy winced. He hadn’t meant to spill his guts on everything that he had felt back then. He hadn’t meant to open old wounds.

“I’m fine,” Tommy smiled, but he could tell Tubbo didn’t buy it. 

“But do you know it’s okay if you’re not?”

Tommy hugged Tubbo, melting into the hold. They stayed that way for a while, and they didn’t say anything when they felt their shirts getting damp or the way the other’s shoulders shook. They had each other, and they always would. 

They always would. They were one constant in their lives, but had yet to realize that the other constants were waiting in the living room.

A few days later, once Sam had declared that Tommy’s wings had healed enough, Sam removed the bandages. He winced at how awful the feathers looked, though they had been cleansed of any blood. 

“Hey Tommy, is it alright if I try to fix these? They look like they haven’t been organized in ages.”

“Sure, I guess.” Tommy shrugged. 

Tommy didn’t know what he’d been thinking it would feel like. Even if he thought he did know, he would’ve been wrong.

The minute Sam had started laying feathers flat and just touching his wings, Tommy melted. He tried not to, but it just felt so nice…

Sam chuckled. “Do you like this?”

Tommy wanted to yell at him for making fun of him, but all he could do was let out a soft crooning and hope that he was still sitting up. His mind was already half put to sleep, but if he fell asleep the feeling would stop. He needed to stay awake.

He leaned into the touch a little bit too much, he supposed, because Sam called someone over for Tommy to lean on instead. He buried his face into the chest of whoever it was, and- was he purring?  It was more a slight growl, but of contentment, and he gave a little whine when Sam stopped preening his wings. 

He continued purring when the preening started again. Part of his brain thought he was making a fool of himself, but the bird part of his brain overruled it. 

Eventually the actual preening stopped, but he complained so much at the loss of contact that he guessed they started up again, not actually doing anything, just stroking the feathers. Soon, his mind was gone and all he wanted was more of the nice feeling he felt. Was it safety?

When the movement of feathers stopped again, Tommy sleepily turned around. It was a little awkward, considering they were on a couch, but he curled into the side of whoever had been preening him. He didn’t even remember at this point, but he trusted them. 

Sam looked down at the mess of blond hair that was on top of him. Not crushing, but it was unexpected. He couldn’t stop the audible “Aww,” that he let out, because the normally stoic young man had just turned to mush the minute Sam started touching his wings. 

Sam knew that once Tommy woke up again he’d hate how vulnerable he’d been, but a part of him was just happy that it’d happened.

Tommy’s wings moved around Sam, and he could do nothing but grin widely. Maybe taking care of his boys was worth it, despite the fact that he’d go grey within a year. 

Tubbo stood by, laughing, but lifted Tommy’s legs and sat down. Ranboo and Fundy joined later, though there wasn’t a whole lot of room on the couch. Ranboo squeezed in beside Tubbo and Fundy curled up over them, and they all napped in the lazy heat of the afternoon.

Sam almost drifted to sleep, and the thought that he had before he did was that there was one more person that he needed to save. His job wasn’t quite done yet. All in due time, though. 

All in due time.

____________

It was another few days later when Ranboo got out of the house. He took Fundy with him, because they were working past their issues. It was taking time, but they were almost there. 

They went into the forest to chat, just about their feelings in general, and it was a little cooler in the shade anyway.

“I just…” Fundy was saying, “I felt so upset, since everyone had abandoned me. We used to be such good friends and it really hurt when you took off too, only to return and be accepted no problem, when I had to fight tooth and nail to even hang out with them a little.”

Ranboo nodded. “I was really stressed out, since you were so angry and Niki was too, and I thought that I finally had people who cared about me, then I heard them talking about how they wanted to use me to their advantage. I figured if they didn’t love me, no one would, because they were the only ones to ask if I was okay after everything.”

Fundy looked pained. “But I did love you. I do.”

Some poor memory of a smile passed over Ranboo’s face. “You didn’t really show it though, did you?”

It was quiet, then, as they both sat in the grass, reminiscing of times that really weren’t better. 

Fundy spoke again. “Maybe we should focus on the future rather than the past. Move on, work on forgiving rather than arguing whose right or wrong.”

Ranboo went to agree, when the sound of twigs snapping was heard behind them. A young man stumbled into their clearing clutching his side, only to collapse with a grunt. They saw the shock of blond hair and thought it was Tommy, but he was missing the telltale dark wings. Regardless, they rushed over and turned him over. 

“Purpled?”

He only responded with a groan, and Ranboo moved his hand to check on the clear wound that Purpled had been hiding. The hybrid sucked air through his teeth and hissed in sympathy. 

“I haven’t seen Purpled in ages,” Fundy said worriedly. “How long has he been alone?”

Ranboo met the fox’s eyes, but didn’t acknowledge the question. He didn’t want to think about it. “I’m going to pick him up. We need to bring him back home.”

“Is that safe? Can he be moved?”

“We don’t really have a choice, Fundy.”

Purpled was far too light, once Ranboo had lifted him, and they went as fast as they could back to the base. If they had listened a little closer, or focused on something other than the injured boy, maybe they would’ve heard the slight noises of someone else in the woods behind them. Watching. Waiting. Following.

They made it to Sam’s house. Their home. Sam had seen them coming, and he saw something on the treeline behind his boys. He opened the door for them. “Get him inside, I need to deal with something first.” He had said, grabbing his armor and weapons. 

He had locked the door behind them.

Sam walked into the forest a little ways, then stopped. “I know you’re here. You might as well show yourself.” It was silent except for the occasional gentle leaf blowing across the ground. He stayed for a moment longer before leaving. He would investigate later, if he remembered to.

Sam let himself fall into the routine of cleaning and dressing Purpled’s wound, and once he was done, finally breathed for a moment. He had to smile, because he was safe. His boys were safe. All of them. He’d saved them all, and he would let them have the childhood’s that had been unrightfully stolen from them. 

When he left to tell the others that Purpled would be fine, he saw Tubbo asleep on Tommy’s lap, with Tommy laughing at him. Sam grinned and leaned against the door frame. 

“I don’t think you can talk much, Tommy. You were gone the minute I touched your wings.”

Tommy spluttered indignantly. “That’s not true! I am a big man! I don’t need your help!”

“Would you like me to do it again, though?”

Tommy quieted and looked up. “Yes please.”

Fundy and Ranboo, who had wandered into the room, laughed at that, and so with permission from Tommy, all three of them began to groom his wings. Tommy was a purring mess within seconds, and the afternoon was spent waiting for their new addition to the family to wake up.

They all had questions that needed answers, but their family was more important.

[loki-hargreeves]

Once Upon a Dream - Loki x Reader [Chapter 4]

Warnings: angst, fighting, blood, gore, character death (not really but also kind of yes?) vulgar language, amnesia  Word Count: 8K Chapter summary: You need to guard the tesseract and make sure the portal stays open - even if it means fighting Thor. Unexpected events lead to a tragic situation that only a miracle can fix. Loki seems to have a heart wrenching solution for that. Author’s Note: I’m sorry for being so slow with updates. I’ll try to grab myself from the neck now 🥺 Once again, I’m not following canon 100% so forgive me for the differences. Listen to: OUAD playlist on Spotify 

[Chapter 3] ~ [Chapter 5 - coming soon!]

THIRD POV

[CH 4 I Dreamed A Dream]

~   But there are dreams that cannot be And there are storms we cannot weather   ~  

“I won’t let you stop him, Thor.”

“And I can’t let you help him.”

“So be it,” Y/N was disappointed that even Loki’s own brother couldn’t understand. She was ready to fight. 

The sword felt light in her hand although it had been a while since she had last picked it up. Without wasting more time, she ran toward Thor who seemed to be waiting for her. She didn’t have time to mope around.

Just as she raised the blade dangerously, Thor shielded himself with his hammer. To his surprise, the impact of her sword was much stronger than he had anticipated and he had to brace himself harder. Even with the power of the Mjolnir against her sword, he struggled to push her off him. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” Y/N asked him through gritted teeth, finding encouragement in the look of disbelief on Thor’s face. She poured power from her soul and into the sword, making it more effective the longer they stood like that. 

“Just getting started, that’s all,” He brushed the look off his face and replaced it with a grin. Surprisingly, he used his legs to kick at her, forcing her to step back. As she attempted to strike him with the sharp sword, Thor threw the Mjolnir right at it. Both weapons flew off into the distance and Thor ran toward Y/N.

She didn’t have time to pick up her sword as she prepared for Thor’s tackle. As he wrapped his arms around her waist, she jumped and clung to his back tightly. Thor hadn’t expected her to jump, so when she kneed him in the chest, his grip loosened. It was the perfect distraction for her to kick herself off his body and let him stumble forward. 

They turned around to face each other once more. This time, Thor was closer to the balcony and he stood between Y/N and her sword. The Mjolnir returned to his hand smoothly, leaving Y/N unarmed. But not for long.

Thor held onto Mjolnir a little tighter as if to show her that she couldn’t stop him. If she tried, she’d have to face the hammer. 

Y/N wasn’t afraid of Thor or his hammer. She was so overwhelmed with power that she could feel it all over her skin, like electricity. It was warm and difficult to contain for much longer. The magic within her was practically begging to be released. Adrenaline was rushing through her body as well and she could feel the blood boiling in her veins. Nothing could stop her now.

The two of them eyed each other so intensely, both ready to attack if the other moved. Y/N was trying to think of a way to go past him so she could guard the tesseract. Thor was willing to do anything to stop her so they could put an end to the madness around them. 

Time felt like it was frozen when they were face to face. By now, Y/N allowed her power to grow around her hands. The energy around them absorbed into the orbs in her hands and grew quickly, casting a glow in the apartment. Holding onto so much power made Y/N confident. 

Thor watched how her power grew and he knew he had to stop her. He remembered how she had defeated dozens of enemies with one blow when she let her powers get the best of her. 

Quickly, he swung his hammer and threw it at her, hoping to pin her down in time. 

A smirk plastered her face as she had expected that. Thor could be so predictable. Smoothly, she used her power to hoist herself up in the air, allowing the hammer to continue past her and into the wall, smashing it in its way. As she had the upper hand, she released the blasts at Thor’s both sides so he couldn’t dodge it. 

Thor leapt forward on the floor to avoid the merciless blasts that were ought to swallow him whole. Just as he landed on the floor, he felt the heel of Y/N’s foot on his hand and she stepped on it. Thor grunted out in pain as he failed to free his hand - and to summon Mjolnir with that hand. She stepped on his hand with all her strength and it made Thor cringe with discomfort. 

“You’re in my way,” Y/N spat coldly, looking down at Thor who was struggling. Magic was growing around her hands once more, creating a cloud of green. 

Thor didn’t like the sight of her with that much power. The look on her face was intimidating. Thor had seen in a few times before in his life and nothing good ever followed from it. This was a woman who was ready to do anything for her freedom and to aid Loki on his journey too. 

She was so close that he could feel the heat radiating from her and it was painful. He reached out to Mjolnir with his other hand and hoped it would reach his palm in time.

“If I go, you go,” Thor let her know mysteriously. 

Just as she released her power and directed it at him, she felt something hit her ankle hard and painfully. Mjolnir! 

Thor didn’t have time to get out of the way and had to take the blow against his back. Her powers were torturous, even through his armour. The floor beneath them crushed and Y/N lost her balance, falling down the hole with Thor. They plummeted down several floors until finally, one of the levels managed to brace their fall.

Y/N hit the floor harshly and rolled over a few times. The moment she stopped rolling, she forced herself back on her feet and she ignored the pain of the impact. Taking in her surroundings, she noticed that they were on an office floor. All the people who would’ve usually been there working were now gone. Thor was nowhere to be seen. 

“Fuck,” She cursed quietly and narrowed her eyes, scanning her surroundings and prepared herself for a surprise attack. The hole in the ceiling was still cracking up, but it was so small that it wouldn’t do much more damage. Small bits and pieces fell out of it in a dust cloud. 

Despite the Chitauri army wreaking havoc outside, it was oddly quiet in the Stark tower. So quiet in fact that she could hear her own heartbeat drumming in her chest. 

In order to be as silent as she could, Y/N used her powers to levitate just above the floor and move forward without making a single sound. Thor couldn’t have gotten far. 

As she turned around a corner to look beyond the rows and rows of office desks, she still couldn’t see him which was odd. Thor didn’t seem like the type of enemy who hid and plotted his next attack. He seemed more like the direct action kind of guy. 

That’s when a thought struck her mind. Had he flown back up to the highest level to destroy the portal? 

Annoyed that she had wasted time looking for him down there, she groaned and returned to the hole in the ceiling. She collected more energy for a few brief seconds and then flew right back up again, landing smoothly on the ground as she reached the correct level. Just as she had thought, she saw Thor on the balcony trying to talk to the doctor who was working on the portal. 

His cowardliness was infuriating. 

On her way to the balcony, she picked up her sword. It was still charged with energy, and Thor hadn’t looked over his shoulder yet to see her. He probably expected her to be down there looking for him for just a bit longer. He was wrong.

It was all a surprise to Thor when she leapt at him and swung her sword against his armour. Thor stumbled forward, but he had remained unharmed but it was only a matter of time before the blade would pierce the Asgardian armour. He turned around and pushed the sword off of him with his hammer. Seeing Y/N right behind him that cold look in her eyes sent shivers down his spine. 

They were standing outside now and the edge of the balcony was awfully close. Erik Selvig had returned to his station and he seemed unbothered by the two of them. He was only focused on the tesseract and keeping the portal open. 

“Clever trick,” Y/N admitted, “but I’m no fool.”

“ I should’ve expected so much from someone of your kind,” Thor realized now. Any ally of Loki’s was just as slippery as the Trickster himself. 

Y/N walked closer to him and Thor took a step back. She remained cautious because he could just as easily throw her off the edge as she could do that to him. 

“You can still stop this-”

“Never!” 

Thor was disappointed to hear her answer. If the circumstances were different, he would’ve been happy to see how committed she was. But he couldn’t allow things to progress. He had sworn to protect this realm, even from her and Loki. If he failed today, he would fail himself, his father and all of Asgard. 

“How can you trust Loki?” Thor wondered. “He is the god of lies and tricks, Y/N. There is no guarantee that his bargain with you will uphold once all of this is over.”

“You don’t get it, Thor!” Y/N growled angrily. She almost laughed at his attempt of winning her over. “What Loki and I have goes deeper than mere words.”

As she spoke, Thor tried to come up with a plan to defeat her. He glanced to her side, looking at the sturdy wall to see if he could leap at her and use it for support, but she caught the movement of his eye just in time. 

As Thor lunged at her once again, she met his attack with her sword. Thor nearly ran straight into the tip of the blade, but he stopped. It gave her a chance to swing it at him, forcing Thor to take a step back and hit the wall. With one swift move, she pointed it at his throat, making Thor tilt his jaw up to avoid injuries. He tried to move his hammer, but she pushed the sword tighter against him, almost breaking his skin.

“Don’t even think about it!” Y/N warned him against using the hammer.

Thor was trapped.

It would’ve been easy to push it further, but Y/N’s muscles felt like stone. Her hands were trembling as she held her sword that was pressing against Thor’s neck. One wrong move and he would suffer greatly. 

“I know there’s still good in you,” Thor dared to say. If she was evil, she would’ve taken advantage of their position by now. 

“I never said I’m evil, Thor. We’re just two ends of the same coin,” She knew that comparing him to her would infuriate him. There was little he could do as he stood here. 

She didn’t want to kill him. Her heart said no to that wile act. Instead, she would trap him with her magic. With one hand, she kept the sword in place as she used her magic to glue Thor against the wall. The glowing material surrounded Thor’s limbs and it grew brighter and brighter. 

Thor was panicking now. He didn’t want to be trapped by her magic, but he couldn’t do much without risking great injuries. After pondering his choices for a while, Thor tried to move only to learn that he couldn’t. The brightness died down and when he looked at his arms and legs, he saw that they were chained. 

Y/N pulled her sword away and stepped back, looking at her creation in awe. Thor was truly tied down now. 

“I hope it’s comfortable,” She smiled a little bit and tightened the chains without even touching them, forcing Thor to lose his grip on Mjolnir. It fell down on the floor right next to him. He looked helpless as he struggled against the chains. Thor seemed like a lost child when he realized he wasn’t winning the fight. “You’re going to be like that for a while.”

“Are you too afraid to fight me?” Thor wondered, trying to rile her up so she would lose focus on the chains and he could break free. After all, keeping up the magical bounds would drain her of energy sooner or later. If she had used real chains and charged them with power, it would’ve been easier, but she hadn’t had a better option.  

She put on a thoughtful look and leaned against the wall next to him just to mock the god of thunder, “I think I already did.”

Thor looked around him desperately. The Chitauri were destroying everything in their way and he knew that the people were terrified. The portal was a fierce eyesore in the sky and it didn’t seem to stop spitting out enemies. For a moment, he felt truly defeated. He wondered if creating thunder and blasting her with lightning could help. Could he do that without holding his hammer?

All seemed to go according to Y/N’s plan until an arrow appeared out of nowhere. Clint had seen them from a distance and he hadn’t hesitated to shoot at Y/N in order to help Thor out. 

Y/N had been so focused on Thor that she didn’t have time to react. The arrow pierced her through her abdomen and she could feel it hit the wall behind her through her skin.The shock of it all was enough to break the spell and the chains that held Thor down cracked into bits and pieces. It snapped in several links and then just vanished into thin air. 

Just like that, Thor was free again.

Y/N looked down at the arrow that was sticking out of her stomach and the sight made her sick. She dropped her sword and immediately put her hands around the wound, feeling hot blood pooling around it and through her fingers.

“Oh no,” She breathed out in pain. Right now, it hurt more in her soul rather than it did physically. Adrenaline numbed her to a point where she didn’t have to experience the raw pain of it all - yet. 

Thor was genuinely worried for her, although it had been of great help. Now that he was free and she was injured, he could shut the portal. But first, he needed to help her. Despite it all, Y/N was Asgardian. He knew that now and he couldn’t let her suffer. If he did, Loki would lose it and Thor didn’t want Loki to find hidden strength in a moment of despair. It was odd how people found strength they didn’t know they had until they truly needed it. 

“Sit down,” He tried to help her. 

“No! Y/N refused to let him help her. Thor’s mistake was that he assumed the blow had weakened her. For the moment he had tried to reach out for her, she used all her strength to create strong energy blasts. She aimed them at Thor and sent him flying right off the edge of the balcony. 

Thor yelled out in surprise and fell out of her sight. Moments later, the hammer was summoned by him but Y/N didn’t see or hear him anymore. 

As she was all alone, the reality of the situation weighed down on her. There was an arrow pointing out of her stomach and it had possibly pierced some vital parts of her. She knew she couldn’t run around with it inside of her, but she also knew that if she was to pull it out, she would bleed out.

Somehow hers shaking legs carried her inside to safety. She collapsed on the floor and finally, the pain got to her. It burned agonizingly and every time she moved even in the slightest, it grew worse. Y/N forced herself to sit on the floor and she leaned against the back of the sofa. She could still watch the balcony from there and whoever walked inside from the other entrances wouldn’t even see her. So for now, she had no choice but to stay there.

“Ah shit,” She cursed when she ripped her clothes around the arrow to see it better. The surrounding skin was tender to touch and blood was dripping out of it. Had it pierced her back? It had felt like it, but Y/N couldn’t be sure and she wasn’t keen on finding out either. Instead, she closed her eyes for a moment and attempted to heal herself. Could any amount of magic truly heal that? One thing was for sure, she had to try. 

As she sat there, a smile curled up her lips. Out of all her enemies, Hawkeye had managed to harm her. It was almost comedic to her - if it wasn’t for the fact that she was in serious danger. 

“Oh Loki, I hope you’re doing better than me,” She thought out loud. 

Where was Loki when she needed him the most?

                      A nearby explosion followed by glass smashing burst Y/N’s bubble of thoughts. How long had she been healing herself? Her eyes felt weary and she had lost track of time. As she looked around, she saw Loki rolling over on the balcony. The sight of him was a surprise and for a moment, she was relieved to see him. 

Unfortunately, the relief didn’t last long because the next person to join the party was the raging beast. The Hulk barely had time to land on the balcony before he leapt at Loki. The two of them rolled inside and broke more windows on their way in. Loki separated from the beast and he hit his head on the floor hard. Despite how painful the impact looked, he got back up on his feet like it was nothing. 

Y/N knew that her wound was still too bad for her to get up there and face the Hulk. But she was on standby. If Loki needed her, she wasn’t going to let an arrow stop her. So far, they hadn’t noticed her sitting behind the couch with bloody hands. Everything hurt so bad, but she almost forgot about the pain when she looked at the Hulk. Surely, she’d be breakfast for him if he got his hands on her. She didn’t like the thought of that at all.

“ENOUGH!” Loki suddenly yelled. He sounded so done with everything, provoked even. She knew instantly that something was pushing on his mind. It couldn’t be good. 

She grunted in pain as she moved closer. Loki was holding a furious speech and to her surprise, the Hulk had actually stopped for a second to listen. 

“- I will not be bullied by aah!” Loki was caught off guard when he was attacked. The Hulk grabbed him by his legs and brutally smashed him against the ground repeatedly. In his strong arms, Loki was like a rag doll. He didn’t even put up a fight. 

Y/N couldn’t just sit there and look at the mess. It physically pained her to see Loki treated like that. When she got back up her feet clumsily, the Hulk dropped Loki on the floor and he stayed down. The wind was knocked out of him and he stared at the ceiling, completely stunned. 

“Puny god…”

“Stop it! She yelled at the Hulk with tears in her eyes. 

He looked at her and prepared to attack, but when he saw the arrow, even the Hulk let his guard down. Not for long, but he certainly inspected the situation. 

Cautiously, she made her way closer to Loki, only one step at the time. Her eyes never left the Hulk’s. He looked so angry behind the grimace, but he didn’t attack her for some odd reason. 

“Please, just let me help him,” She whispered now. Healing her wound without many results had drained her energy and she was beginning to feel weak and nauseated. The sight of Loki like that didn’t help much. 

Loki hadn’t moved at all. He just laid there and whimpered in pain as he struggled to breathe. Had he even acknowledged Y/N’s presence at all?

When she was deemed too close to Loki, the Hulk tightened his fists and took a step forward. Before she would face him in a fight, another person joined them.

“Step back!” Natasha had arrived. When? Y/N had no clue. Miraculously, the Hulk listened to her but he wasn’t happy about it. He murmured something nasty about gods underneath his breath and walked away like a grumpy child. 

In shock, Y/N turned to face Natasha. Why had she stepped in to help her? That was a mystery but Y/N was genuinely thankful for that. 

Without exchanging words, Natasha just watched as Y/N fell on her knees beside Loki, unable to keep herself up for much longer. The Black Widow didn’t see her as much of a threat by now so she didn’t intervene. They had much bigger problems to think about now that Loki was down.

The first thing Y/N checked was Loki’s breath. She had heard his whimpers, but to feel his breath against her palm was a huge relief. 

“Hey,” She cupped his face in an attempt to gain his attention. He didn’t react to her voice at all. His eyes were closed shut and it almost resembled sleep. If only he was just asleep. The wound on his forehead was bleeding, but it was only a scratch compared to his other injuries.

“Loki, wake up,” She didn’t realize how beaten she was until now. Loki was unconscious and she had an arrow sticking out of her which was beginning to drain the rest of her energy. Everything became more difficult, even breathing. The pain was so overwhelming that it was hard to even think straight. 

She could either try to heal herself more in order to put up a fight against the Avengers, or she could try to heal him. Time was their enemy. As much as it frightened her, she decided to help him. 

With both hands on the sides of his face, she leaned against Loki as much as she could without the bloody arrow getting in the way. Her forehead rested against his gently and then she focused on all her power, directing into him. When she felt her magic blending in with his, it almost felt like someone was tickling her gently. His magic crashed against hers like waves on a stormy sea. The more she borrowed her magic to him, the harder it was to continue. The tickling sensation turned into something heavy and miserable. By now it felt like Loki’s magic had grabbed onto her very soul and it was tugging at it. 

Eventually, Loki opened his eyes. As soon as he realized what was going on, he stopped her. 

“Y/N!” He repeated her name a few times so she would snap out of it. The flow of energy stopped and her body collapsed. Loki sat up and grabbed her just in time before the arrow would've pushed through her completely. 

Gently, he turned them over so she was on her back. Luckily, the arrow hadn’t pierced her back which meant she could lay down on the floor When he saw the arrow, Loki felt sick to his stomach. The sight felt like a punch in the gut and it troubled him greatly. How had this happened? 

Loki’s first instinct was to find the agent who was responsible for this and make him pay for what he had done, but when he learned just how terrible Y/N’s condition was, he couldn’t even consider leaving her side. Loki felt guilty. It weighed down on his shoulders and he regretted dragging her into this. Once again, they were facing misery. It was like fate was testing them. When would it stop? When could they be happy?

He didn’t give a damn about the war, nor the portal. As long as he could help her, Loki would face the consequences. Right now, he couldn’t think about anything or anyone else than her. 

Y/N looked at Loki’s concerned expression and it hurt her. Seeing him injured and so worried over her was like a knife in the heart. But at least he seemed to be alright. He was going to make it. 

“I’m sorry,” She apologized, feeling the need to do so. In her mind, she had failed him. In a moment that could’ve turned out victorious for them, she had let her guard down and Hawkeye had managed to get a good shot at her. 

“Don’t apologize,” Loki was quick to say something. “You’ll be alright,” He wasn’t entirely sure if he believed that himself. He forced himself to look at the wound and it was worse than he had imagined. How long had she had it in her? Why wasn’t her healing powers working against it? 

A realization sent shivers down Loki’s spine. As happy as he was when he knew she would survive, he felt miserable. They had just found themselves again. This moment reminded him of the past. When he had lost her before. It was too similar and it wrecked him on the inside. 

At least he could keep his promise. She’d be alright. 

Natasha was watching them from a safe distance, but she didn’t focus on what they were saying. There were too many other issues she had to think about. She was willing to let Loki help her as long as he wouldn’t try anything else. By now, the portal had been closed and the others were finishing up their tasks. She was still waiting for Tony’s update. Last time the team had heard of him, there had been talk about a bomb. Tony had told them he had an idea.

The Hulk had left the building as he struggled to contain his rage near Loki. Natasha hoped that she could get some backup soon, but she also felt oddly confident in the situation. Loki seemed like he only had eyes for Y/N and nothing and no one else in that moment. 

“I can help you,” Loki wanted her to understand that his intention was good. His lips were quivering now and he failed to mask how upset he was. 

Despite how exhausted and weak she was, she picked up on that. “What are you talking about?” 

Loki moved slightly so he was sitting comfortably right next to her. He helped her move so she could rest her hair on his lap. It was easier to work when she was closer to him like that. 

“I’m going to have to remove this,” Loki explained carefully and glanced at the arrow.

Y/N followed the trail of his eyes. The idea of him pulling it out of her was gnarly and she knew it wouldn’t feel nice. What did she have to lose? 

“Do you trust me?” Loki needed her answer.

It was scary, but she wasn’t afraid to trust him, “I do.”

Tears were gathering in the corners of Loki’s eyes. His mind was blocking out everything else. He refused to waste energy by thinking about their defeat or Thanos. Now all he could do was focus on her and making sure she’d live. 

He grabbed the arrow and took a deep breath as if to prepare himself for the inevitable. Y/N gave him a nod which encouraged him to pull it out. Carefully, he began tugging at it. He could feel every little movement as he removed the arrow which was sickening. How could anyone hurt her? Loki didn’t understand that. He blamed himself for not being there to watch her back. 

Once the arrow was removed, crimson blood oozed out of the wound and soaked her clothes and eventually the floor. She winced out in pain and squeezed her eyes shut. Loki had no time to waste. 

“It’ll be okay very soon,” Loki promised her sincerely. He bent down to press a comforting kiss on her forehead, one that he knew he would savour for as long as he’d live. She didn’t respond to him, but she heard his voice clear as day. 

Loki took one last glance at her. It felt like goodbye all over again. In a way, it was. Then he put his palm right above the wound, feeling the hot blood on his skin. He closed his eyes and focused entirely on healing her. 

When Y/N felt the pain subside ever so slightly, she tried to face Loki. Her vision was blurry and she could hardly see past him. Instead of his usual green magic, a white light began to grow around his palm. It surrounded her wound instantly and began to spread all around them, until they were inside a shield of magic. The pure energy of it all was so strong. If anyone from the outside had tried to reach them, they wouldn’t have been able to do so.

Y/N watched in awe as the air around them turned into a whirlwind. It was gentle but it played with his hair. Next thing she knew, Loki opened his eyes and they were white. It looked like all the colour had been drained from them and they shone so brightly that it was nearly impossible to look directly into them. What was he doing?

“I need you to know that I’m sorry,” Loki turned to face her. Was he crying?

“W-why?” 

Loki was quiet for a moment. That’s when Y/N picked up another source of light. It came from her own palm. As she looked at it, she saw the stars again. Why were they shining? One star in particular stuck out. Unlike the other stars that shone just as brightly as the other, this one was more intense. 

“I never meant to drag you into this. This was never supposed to happen,” Loki was talking about everything that had happened. In his mind, they should’ve been together, possibly on Asgard. They deserved to be happy. But life had been cruel and separated them. Was this a direct result of all their wrong choices? 

“I chose to be by your side,” Y/N remembered. By now, speaking felt immensely difficult. Her body wanted to sleep. Her eyes hardly stayed open. The idea of accepting the darkness that so desperately wanted to surround her was tempting. It no longer scared her. 

Loki lifted his palm from her wound. As he did that, she noticed that the stars beneath his skin were shining as well. The magic he was using was strong, but strange. Why did it feel so familiar? 

When Loki reached for her hand and touched it, she didn’t feel his touch anymore. Everything was so numb. The lack of feeling made her feel so shallow. 

All of a sudden Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. Right afterwards Loki let go of her hand. The star from her palm suddenly raised above and floated in the air right underneath Loki’s hand. One of his stars joined it and they watched how the small lights danced together. In a bizarre way, it was beautiful. Calming, even.

Carefully, as if he was trying not to drop something, Loki moved the stars toward the brutal wound. The lights merged into one bigger star and it twinkled a few times. It almost looked like a diamond with a million cut edges. The magic that was stored within it was so powerful it could’ve moved oceans apart. Even though Y/N was weak and she felt like she would succumb to nothingness at any moment now, she could feel the magic in her soul. 

“I wish there was another way,” Loki’s voice was quiet. Then he lowered the star and pressed his palm above her wound again. This time, he could feel the change. It closed as the magic began to heal her. 

Loki knew that soon enough, they would be strangers again. It tore his heart to pieces, but he knew it was for the best. He was going to make sure she wouldn’t suffer for the consequences of his actions and then he would leave her in the past - forever. They had tried to make things work out several times, but it had never been successful. In his mind, he brought misfortune to her. Everything he touched seemed to turn to dust. 

“Goodbye,” Loki whispered his farewell to her, unsure if she could hear. She was blessed with a fresh start, but he would be cursed with knowledge, with their memories. 

“I love you.”

As if someone had breathed life into her lungs for her, Y/N gasped dramatically. She blinked and the next time she opened her eyes, she was in an entirely different place. 

Everything turned pitch black. The darkness enveloped her completely. 

Where am I?

Who am I?

Thoughts swirled in her head as she stood in the middle of nowhere, all alone. How did she get there?

When something flashed by her side, it startled her. Y/N turned around but she was too slow. The mysterious figure had already vanished. 

“Hello?” She called out for anyone who could hear her frightened voice.

Another flash of light caught her attention. And another. another. It didn’t stop until she saw countless of figures all around her. Where did they come from? They were all whispering something, but she couldn’t make sense of it. Their voices merged together into one big mess that grew louder and louder until it hurt her ears. 

There was no use in hiding. There were no places to run for shelter. She was surrounded by these mysterious flashes and they terrified her. 

It quickly overwhelmed her. Y/N covered her face with her hands in an attempt to block out the bizarre creatures around her. A few seconds passed and everything turned silent again. Her heart was beating hard. It felt like it had leapt to her throat at this point. Did she dare to look?

It took every ounce of courage she had to remove the hands from her face. When she did, she saw a figure standing right in front of her.

“Who are you?!” She wasn’t even sure who she was, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Did the stranger know how scared she was?

He just stood there. His emerald eyes didn’t move. As she looked at him longer, she realized that he didn’t move at all. He was completely frozen in time. 

Her eyes scanned the other figures that stood all around them. No one moved, but they all stared at her ominously. Being surrounded by these people with no way out was like a nightmare. The place seemed never-ending. The figures were in rows as far as her eyes could see. 

Several of them resembled the man who stood right in front of her. They looked younger, some seemed older. There were several faces in the crowd, but this one stuck out the most. His raven hair and piercing gaze were somehow familiar. So Y/N decided to be brave and face him one more time. 

“Can you hear me?” She wondered. Her voice echoed in the odd space. 

Instead of saying something to her, the man reached out his hand. When she looked at his outstretched hand, she noticed something that resembled stars right above his palm. They were mesmerizing and it was hard to look away. The lights had a gravity to them. 

There were nine stars in total, but only six of them were twinkling with light. Three of them were dull, like a dying fire. It reminded her of darkened coal. Burned to an end. 

Did he want her to touch them? Why wasn’t he speaking? 

“What are they?” She needed to know.

The man’s cold expression shifted into something more sympathetic. “Our lives, Y/N.”

Y/N?

That must’ve been her name. It felt right. 

What did he mean by that? 

“Am I dead?” She barely managed to push the words out of her mouth. The idea of being dead was startling, but it made sense. 

“I suppose you could say that,” the man replied calmly, “but not for long.”

Not for long?

“What do you mean?” Y/N had to know. Her poor heart felt like it was going to explode. Nothing made sense and she felt so lost and lonely. 

“Once you are ready, you can return to your third life.”

Third life?

A shocked laugh escaped her lips, “This is madness.”

“Is it?” The man questioned her mysteriously. 

Silence fell over them. Only this time, it didn’t feel as scary. Y/N studied the countless of faces all around her. Some of them belonged to a boy. An older man also shared that face so she assumed it was the same person. She saw a man and a woman who were always standing next to each other, no matter how many duplicates they had. One of the people around her always held onto a hammer. One was missing an eye. And there were so many more. 

Why was this person the one talking to her? And why did she feel so sentimental about this stranger? Were they strangers or had she forgotten him? 

“Who are you?” She repeated her earlier question. 

“I’m merely a memory,” he explained, “you’ll have to find me again.”

By now she knew that he wasn’t going to give her any direct answers. The best thing she could do was to take in all the details on his face. If there was a chance that she could find him, she was definitely going to do so. He was the only clue she had on anything. 

“How do I return to it?” Y/N questioned him after a while. This strange and dark place had nothing more to offer her. She felt ready to face whatever came next. The unknown was both frightening and ever so tempting. It made her curious. 

“Take my hand,” The man instructed her. Although it was slightly strange, she trusted him. 

And she did so. The moment she touched his hand and he closed his fingers around hers, the other figures vanished into thin air. The darkness began to fade and it felt like the world was caving in on them. 

The man disappeared as well. For a moment, she was all by herself. Everything was fine, until the sensation of her falling took her by surprise. Y/N flinched and her eyes opened wide. 

She noticed people all around her. They were all bloody and their clothes were dirty. The place they were in was fancy, but the broken furniture and windows were evidence of something awful that had happened. Did she die there? 

Y/N was sitting on the floor and she wanted to stand up,  but a man was pointing an arrow at her. 

“Don’t move,” He sounded angry. 

“Woah,” She raised her arms in surrender, not wishing to die and return to that dark world she just came back from. This man didn’t look anything like the one who had talked to her. 

“Her spell is broken!” A familiar voice made both of them turn their heads. A tall man had said it and he was facing them with his back. Y/N saw a green cape and long, dark hair. She couldn’t believe her luck. It must’ve been the same man.

“You!” She smiled despite having an arrow pointed at her. “It’s you!” She couldn’t believe her eyes when he turned around and she saw his face. Then she saw the handcuffs and the blonde man who was holding onto him. Was he a prisoner?

“What’s going on?” A redheaded woman seemed confused by the situation. “I thought she was a goner.”

The man with the cape kept a cold look on his face, “She was for a moment. But she’s much tougher than you’d think.”

The blonde man tugged at his arm, “what did you say about a spell, Loki?” 

Loki? So his name was Loki? Y/N tried to remember that as she watched them from the floor. 

“Did you really think I would trust her to be loyal to me after everything? That I would leave the tesseract into her hands after we had spent so long apart?” Loki laughed mockingly and then faced her again, “I used something far stronger than the sceptre to turn her to my side. It seems like a little brush with death wore it off.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. The only clue she had was him and he was talking about putting a spell over her? Why did he sound so mean? 

The redheaded woman made the guy lower his weapon and the arrow was no longer pointed at her. 

“Can we trust him?” The arrow man seemed suspicious of it all.

“There’s only one way to find out,” The woman replied and knelt down on the floor next to Y/N. “How are you feeling?” 

“I...I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Y/N needed to know. A terrible headache was forming in her head at an alarming rate. Her mind tried to put all the pieces together but absolutely nothing made sense. Not knowing anything or remembering anything was like hell. 

“The wound is gone,” The woman noticed as she glanced at Y/N’s stomach. 

What wound?

“Who are you?” 

“Do you really not remember?” The woman narrowed her eyes and seemed to look right into her soul. She certainly had a tough expression.

Cautiously, Y/N shook her head no. 

“I’m Natasha,” She introduced herself, but still remained suspicious. “We have to take you with us just in case you are tricking us,” She pointed at Loki as she spoke. Then rather gently, she helped Y/N up on her feet. “We’re going to get to the bottom of things.”

For a moment, Y/N felt lightheaded. She didn’t fight it as Natasha put handcuffs around her wrists. It’s like her mind was so overwhelmed by everything that she was unable to do much. Why were they in handcuffs?

“What happened?” 

Everyone in the room shared strange glances. Why was there a huge, green person in the room as well? Why did he look so angry? 

“Loki what did you do to her?” The blonde man wondered bitterly. Everyone seemed to blame Loki for this, whatever this was.

“I already told you, now didn’t I?” Loki was quick with his remark. The two of them seemed to have a complicated relationship. Their outfits resembled each other’s and stood out from everyone else there. 

Natasha nudged Y/N gently so she would walk with her, “I usually know a liar when I see one. I think she’s genuinely confused,” she let everyone know. 

Confused was an understatement. 

“Okay all of you, let’s move!” A brown haired guy spoke. There was a strange blue light underneath his shirt that immediately caught Y/N’s attention. It was located right above his heart. He was also carrying a silver briefcase and he had what looked like guards on both his sides. Whatever he was carrying must’ve been priceless.

Everyone began to make their way into the elevator, including Natasha and Y/N. The green thing tried to get into the elevator as well, but it was full. All Y/N could do was to just stand next to Natasha and silently take in her surroundings. She didn’t know what to think of it all. 

As the elevator doors closed, the green one hit it so hard that the metal bent. No one seemed surprised by it, but Y/N was shocked. How had he done that? 

She turned around to look at Loki who now had his mouth covered by a metallic mouth guard.  Asking him anything at all would’ve been useless because there was no way he could answer with that thing on. No, she didn’t know what he had done or why he was treated like a prisoner, but it didn’t mean she didn’t feel for him. His face had appeared before her just a moment ago. Clearly, he was important. 

And he didn’t even look at her. 

Why did it hurt? 

Loki was all she could think about when they were led out of the elevator. The ground level was swarmed with people. A lot of them wore suits and the overall tension in the space was obvious. Looking outside through the big windows, she could see destruction and smoke. It didn’t take a fool to know that something terrible had went down there, wherever they were. 

They were stopped when a group of armed men walked right up to them, blocking the entrance. 

“May I ask you where you’re going?” An older man questioned the man with the briefcase. It seemed serious. 

“To lunch and then Asgard, and I’m sorry, you are?” The blonde one had let go of Loki as he answered the man’s question. 

The man with the briefcase answered for him, “Alexander Pierce.  He's the man, one of the folks behind Nick Fury,” He explained the latter a little bit quieter. 

Alexander didn’t want to waste any more time, “My friends call me Mr. Secretary. I'm gonna have to ask you to turn those prisoners over to me.”

Prisoners?

Y/N realized that only she and Loki were handcuffed. He must’ve been talking about them. The idea of going somewhere with Alexander Pierce made her uncomfortable for whatever reason. Like she wasn’t able to trust him at all. 

“Loki will answer to Odin himself,” The tall blonde man explained, “and Y/N? She’s not really a prisoner. I think not.”

“Oh they’re going to answer to us, Odin can have what’s left...of Loki,” Alexander sounded quite sure of himself, “And I’m gonna need that case. That's been S.H.I.E.L.D. property for over 70 years,” He gestured toward the briefcase. Whatever was inside it was beginning to catch Y/N’s interest. Why were people fighting over it? She wanted to know what it was.

“What do you mean? Why are you keeping Y/N?” Briefcase guy wondered. 

“She, just as the case, has been our property for years. We are not done with her!”

Their property? The sound of that made Y/N’s skin crawl. Why did they speak of her like she was less of a person? It made her sick to her stomach and she wanted to chew on the guy’s words, but decided to stay quiet for a little longer. The two guys were handling the situation just fine. 

The authority over the briefcase quickly turned into an argument right before their eyes. As they fought over it, Y/N turned around to look at Loki. He was taking in his surroundings, studying every little thing he could see. Was he planning something? 

For a moment, their eyes met and she could’ve sworn that his expression softened. It looked like he wanted to say something, but it was impossible. If she read his eyes correctly, she could tell that he was sorry. The man looked defeated and he had been quite sassy with everyone else. But now he looked at her with compassion, even if it was only for a second. She noticed it. 

Everything came to a halt when the briefcase fell on the floor and the man who had been carrying it began to visibly struggle. Everyone reacted to the man’s sudden change of demeanor and somehow, the briefcase slid away from them and no one seemed to care. What on earth was happening to him? 

A guard grabbed the briefcase and tried to walk away with it - just like that. It seemed wrong, but Y/N wasn’t going to stop him. Someone else did.

The green beast finally reached their level and he was upset. The door he had opened had pushed the guard on the floor and now the briefcase slid right back to their direction. The green one started roaring out in anger about how much he hated stairs, the people began to run away from him in panic. Y/N froze on the spot, staring at him wide eyed. She had no idea what he was capable of and she didn’t truly want to figure that out either. 

Instead, she fixated her eyes on the bright blue cube that fell out of the briefcase. It was beautiful. She couldn’t look away and she just watched as it reached Loki’s feet. Loki looked at it in astonishment, like he couldn’t believe his luck. Then before anyone could stop him, he bent down and grabbed it. 

He made the decision in a second and he didn’t hesitate at all when he ran toward Y/N and held onto her as well as he could with his cuffed hands. 

“What are you-” She didn’t even get to finish her sentence as a portal appeared right behind Loki. The sight of it took her breath away as she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It had bright blue edges just like the cube, but it led into seemingly eternal darkness. Before anyone could stop them, Loki stepped back into it, and pulled her with him.

The moment they entered the mysterious portal, it disappeared and Loki held onto her tighter. She was scared that something bad would happen if she let go, so instinctively she held onto Loki for dear life.

[Chapter 5 - coming soon] 

A/N: we’re out of canon timelines now so I can do whatever I want >:) Also I would love to hear your feedback! That always makes writing worth it. <3 

TAGS:  @lokislittlecorner @angelicwolf98 @iraniq  @thegirlbeyondtheuniverse @chipmunkchick @chimera4plums @myraiswack @grincheveryday @surprisinglyaestheticinfj @kinghiddlestonanddixon​ @subtlemalice​ @alfoos​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @whimsicalwoodlands​ @strangemcuvlogs @green-valkyrie​  @i-have-arrived-bitch​ @alfoos​ @amwolowicz​ @klanceiscannon14​ @captain-asguard​

[onceinabluehanguangjun]

amare et amari

Summary: to celebrate @mdzsnet Lan Sizhui birthday event, no plot, just love

Word Count: ~2.2k

Relationships: Lan Sizhui & Lan Wangji; Lan Sizhui & Wei Wuxian; Lan Sizhui & Jiang Cheng

Tags: post-canon, seasickness

ao3

“Sizhui.”

Sizhui opened his eyes slowly at the sound of his name, pulling himself out of meditation. Hanguang-Jun stood in the doorway of the room he shared with Jingyi with tea and he, as always, looked like a force to be reckoned with. It was a comforting sort of force, though.

“Hanguang-Jun,” Sizhui greeted in response, bowing his head slowly. Hanguang-Jun came into the room more.

He knelt at the table and Sizhui moved to do the same. They had tea at least once every few days, typically with Wei Wuxian or Zewu-Jun or Jingyi in attendance. Today, though, it was just them. He liked that. It’d been a while since it was just the two of them.

“In a week's time, we’ll be going to Lotus Pier. Wei Ying suggested you and Jingyi attend as well,” Hanguang-Jun said as Sizhui poured his tea. Sizhui nodded eagerly.

“Yes, Hanguang-Jun,” he agreed easily, “Is it for business or…?”

Hanguang-Jun took a deep breath that told Sizhui all he needed to know. He was going because Wei Wuxian wanted to go and he didn’t want him meeting with Sandu Shengshou on his own. But Wei Wuxian didn’t want Hanguang-Jun and Sandu Shengshou butting heads the entire time, so it seemed easier to bring him and Jingyi along to provide more buffers. He nodded.

“Wei Ying wishes to show you Lotus Pier,” Hanguang-Jun said instead. Sizhui smiled.

“Oh,” he said, “That sounds nice. I’ve never explored Lotus Pier.”

“Mn.”

Sizhui watched as Hanguang-Jun drank his tea and then watched as he stared at the table. They’d spent many years having tea together alone‒many days in general together alone. Lan Sizhui knew him well. He knew when he was happy and when his mood dropped. He typically resided in something akin to quiet resignation to everything. That hadn’t shown its face since Wei Wuxian returned and it definitely hadn’t been around since Zewu-Jun came out of seclusion. Sizhui wasn’t exactly excited to see it’s return.

“Baba,” he said, craning his head a little bit and offering the sweetest smile he could muster. When Hanguang-Jun met his eyes, he visibly softened a little. “Tomorrow, could we go to Caiyi? Just you and I?”

They used to go often when Sizhui was little, every time Hanguang-Jun got irritated or needed an escape and couldn’t go on a night hunt. If Shifu scolded Lan Sizhui for something that wasn’t exactly against the rule or if he lectured Hanguang-Jun himself for the way he was raising Sizhui, then he’d take him to Caiyi to get away for the day. Sometimes he would even bring Jingyi, typically if Jingyi had gotten in trouble for running his mouth. Once they got a bit older and started talking on more duties within the sect, their trips to Caiyi had dwindled.

It felt time for one.

“Mn,” Hanguang-Jun agreed, an easy smile finding his face, “That sounds nice.”

Sizhui smiled as he raised his cup to his lips. 

-

Lan Sizhui took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

No one spoke to him as he tried (and failed) to slip into a meditative state. He had a horrible history of seasickness that only got more embarrassing when his fathers were taken into account. The great Hanguang-Jun himself and the fearsome Yiling Patriarch raised a boy who could be bested by a little water.

Currently, they were headed to Lotus Pier and while Lan Sizhui usually would’ve flown without any push back, that wasn’t an option with Wei Wuxian in tow. So Sizhui just kept his eyes closed and his mind on literally anything else. Like the sound of Hanguang-Jun humming every few minutes so Wei Wuxian knew he was listening or the sound of Wei Wuxian’s speech in general. Or maybe he could keep focus and sync up his breathing to Jingyi’s like they did whenever things got a little too overwhelming. 

“Ah, A-Yuan, what’s wrong with you?” Wei Wuxian called suddenly. Sizhui flinched in surprise and opened his eyes. It took seconds for the sick feeling to start building in his stomach again.

“Leave him be,” Hanguang-Jun said, touching Wei Wuxian’s arm gently. Sizhui had just enough time to see him pout in confusion before he had to close his eyes again in fear he’d embarrass himself by vomiting.

“He gets seasick,” Jingyi so helpfully supplied. 

Hearing the word out loud seemed to only make it worse and Sizhui’s mouth pressed into a frown and a crease formed between his eyebrows. He took a deep breath to try and keep calm, but someone moved and the boat rocked and he was feeling sicker and sicker by the second.

“You’re a cultivator, can’t you just make it go away?” Wei Wuxian asked, “I always just ignored every sick feeling until it went away.”

“With all due respect, Wei-qianbei, I don’t think you’re a very good comparison,” Lan Jingyi offered, though it was very clear he was saying that Wei Wuxian was reckless. And that was true. He was.

“Mn,” Hanguang-Jun agreed.

“Ah, well,” Wei Wuxian said. He moved closer to Sizhui and touched his face, smoothing out the crease between his brows. Then his hand touched his back, rubbing smooth circles between his shoulder blades. “Breathe slowly and focus on Hanguang-Jun’s heart rate. You can hear that, can’t you?”

He was a good few paces away, but Lan Sizhui tried his best to do as Wei Wuxian said. He focused hard, listening closely like he would on a night hunt. He hadn’t sought out Hanguang-Jun’s heartbeat since he was little and needed to be held after nightmares. He would always lay his head on his chest and listen to it until he fell back asleep. Now he was grown and it wasn’t as easy to hear when his head wasn’t against his chest, but he tried anyway.

“There you are,” Wei Wuxian said softly.

He wasn’t even sure if it was Hanguang-Jun heartbeat or if it was Wei Wuxian’s since he was the one who was so close, but it was effective nonetheless. Sizhui breathed and listened and focused on anything but the rocking motion of the boat.

When he opened his eyes again, they were docked at Lotus Pier and his head was slumped against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. He quickly sat up straight once he realized and tried to ignore the way his cheeks burned. Wei Wuxian was already laughing.

“This disciple apologizes for his impropriety, Wei-qianbei,” Lan Sizhui said, giving a small bow.

“Nonsense! I’m just glad to know you aren’t like Baba over there who will happily sleep sitting straight up! It’s a travesty,” Wei Wuxian laughed, reaching out to straighten his forehead ribbon. Like every time he touched it, Lan Sizhui was unable to suppress a smile. “Come! Let’s go bother Jiang Cheng.”

-

Hours later, after eating and being shown to their rooms, Lan Sizhui found himself waiting until most of Lotus Pier went to sleep, including Jingyi, before going to wander.

He’d only been to Lotus Pier a few times and each time he’d been a little too nervous to explore by himself at night. It was something he did in the Cloud Recesses and Koi Tower and the Unclean Realm, late at night where things were quiet. He tried not to see it as breaking any rules. The 9 PM bedtime was one of the non-punishable rules.

Tomorrow, Wei Wuxian planned to take Jingyi and Sizhui on a tour, but tonight he wanted to do it on his own.

He walked around the grounds of Lotus Pier and nodded to the disciples who were on night patrol, all of whom didn’t seem phased to see him up. Hopefully, they weren’t the ones to tell on him like the disciples in the Cloud Recesses. 

Aesthetically, it was beautiful and warm. The Cloud Recesses would always be home, but he could admit that it could be suffocating. The Unclean Realm, even after Nie Huaisang livened it up, was rigid and bland. Lanling was cold and showy. Lotus Pier felt like people lived here, like children could get a bit messy and run around and that was okay.

Lotus Pier wasn’t closed off like every other major sect, it was open. During the day, it was lined with vendors and people. He’d seen them watch the cultivators practice their sword forms, he’d seen people play in the water, he’d seen people laugh and shriek and play. People had fun here. In another life, maybe he could’ve grown up here and learned how to have fun in that way. 

Maybe he still had room to learn in this one.

“Can’t sleep?”

Lan Sizhui nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun around. Sandu Shengshou stood there in only a few layers of his robes, barefoot, and all of his hair thrown up in a bun. Sandu itself was nowhere to be seen. It was concerningly casual.

“This disciple apologizes, he’ll return to his room,” Lan Sizhui said, bowing deep and keeping his eyes off him just in case. Sect Leader Jiang huffed a laugh, shaking his head as reached out to nudge his elbow and unceremoniously suggest he lift out of his bow. He did.

Lan Sizhui hadn’t actually been alone with Sect Leader Jiang before. He had a feeling if Hanguang-Jun knew that he was alone with him now, he wouldn’t like it very much. But Sect Leader Jiang looked calmer than usual and visibly tired, not like the ball of anger he typically portrayed himself as. 

“Lan Sizhui, isn’t it,” Sect Leader Jiang said‒distinctly not framing it as a question. Sizhui nodded curtly. He shook his head and walked past him. It took a few moments and for Sect Leader Jiang to look over his shoulder for him to realize he was expected to follow.

He did.

Sect Leader Jiang led him to the edge of the nearest pier where he sat down and dangled his feet over the edge, not quite touching the water. Sizhui carefully removed his shoes to sit beside him and do the same. Staring was against the rules and considered extremely rude, but Sizhui found it more than a little difficult not to stare at him. This whole thing was strange.

“I don’t expect you to remember, I only met you for a few minutes and it was an entire lifetime ago,” Sect Leader Jiang began. Lan Sizhui’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head and he involuntarily leaned closer, eager to hear any story from before. “I went to the Burial Mounds to see what the fuck Wei Wuxian was getting up to and you clung to my leg. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, I was too focused on… But a few years later, I wondered what had happened to you. You seemed to trust me despite me being a stranger and I promptly left you to die, so I suppose that says a lot about me.”

“Sect Leader Jiang had much more important duties than worrying about a child he met for a few moments,” Lan Sizhui said, though a part of his heart went a bit wild in his chest. A whole childhood in Lotus Pier raised alongside Jin Ling with the warmth it gave despite its angry leader. He loved Hanguang-Jun more than anything, but the idea of how easily his life could’ve been different sent his mind running.

“Perhaps,” Sect Leader Jiang said. He was quiet for a moment before he scoffed. “Wei Wuxian saw you as his, though. And once… Well, once everything occurred, you truly were his. He was what you had, just as my sister was what Jin Ling had. No matter my opinions on his actions, you were innocent.”

Years and years of reading between the lines in everything Hanguang-Jun said seemed to prepare him for this moment. The simple hidden statement of ‘you were my nephew and I took care of one but not the other’. Despite the melancholy of it all, Lan Sizhui found himself smiling in the same way he smiled when Hanguang-Jun was quietly resigned, tilting his head to attempt to breach his line of sight.

“But I’m alright.”

“You are,” Sect Leader Jiang sighed, looking over at him, “You’re alright.”

Sizhui smiled brighter and Sect Leader Jiang huffed a laugh.

“You smile like him,” he said, tilting his head up to the stars, “How did I not notice in all these years?”

“It was probably best you didn’t,” Lan Sizhui offered, hoping to make him feel a little less guilty, “Hanguang-Jun wouldn’t have liked it if you tried to keep me.”

“Hanguang-Jun,” Sect Leader Jiang echoed, “You Lans are so formal even with family.”

“Would you like it if I wasn’t formal?” Lan Sizhui asked. When Sect Leader Jiang looked at him again, Sizhui offered a quiet, “That would mean I’d call you Shufu, right?”

A genuine smile pulled at Sect Leader Jiang’s lips as he looked out to the water and Lan Sizhui was giddy with it. That was the first time he’d ever seen him smile. Was that what it felt like when other people saw Hanguang-Jun smile?

“Still formal,” he said, “Shushu. Jiang-shushu, maybe.”

“Alright, Shushu,” Lan Sizhui decided, turning to face him entirely, “It seems we have many years to make up for.”

Shushu shook his head, clearly biting back an even bigger smile. No one would believe this. Truthfully, in the morning, Lan Sizhui couldn’t be sure he’d believe this.

“It seems we do,” he agreed, “We really do.”

[razorblade180]

Shackles 11: Resolve

[part 10]

“Anymore?” That’s all Ilia could think to say in the windswept desert, surrounded by wounded escapees and the guards she struck down. Ilia looked to her left to see Yang tend to Adam’s wounds as best as possible with the supplies they had. “Should we expect anymore to come out? There’s…less than I expected.”

“Other than Blake and Jacquelyn, I couldn’t say. Right now I’m worried about whether any one of us can make a trip to Vacou in this condition.”

“I handled that already. Right now I’m more concerned about-” a tremor cut her off. The entrance of the mine shaft began crumbling as Blake and Jacquelyn ran out. The maiden raised her foot and stomped the ground again, causing another tremble that closed the entrance with rubble.

Jacquelyn looked at her handy work briefly while she brought her hands together to pray. “It’s not a proper burial, but it’s the best I could offer. Forgive me.” She gave a moment of silence before running off to Adam. Beside him was a girl she didn’t recognize and Yang. “How is he!?”

“Breathing, but that’s about all I can say. I did stop some bleeding. In this situation though…”

“I got it…” Jacquelyn uttered. She sat by his side quietly and took his hand. It was faint but she could feel him gently squeeze back. “Hang on a little longer okay?” Her eyes watered. Unsure of what to do or feel, Jasmine remained speechless.

Yang stood up and gave them space. Truthfully she didn’t think she could watch Jacquelyn cry. Something about it…hit a little close to home. Despite her personal feelings, Yang hoped for the best. Her eyes spotted Blake standing apart from everyone else. Yang approached without hesitation but was shocked whenever she tried reaching out and Blake moved away; not even looking her way.

“Blake? Hey, what’s wrong?” She waited patiently but didn’t get a response. “Blake, you're scaring me a little. What happened?”

“I…I just…” Blake dropped to her knees and covered her mouth. She could that pit in her stomach start churning as she did her best to keep calm. She could still feel it. The pounding in her chest and the adrenaline that made her shake violently. Next thing she knew Yang had was holding her while Blake struggled to breathe.

“Blake!? Blake what’s wrong!? Ilia! Something is wrong!”

“What!?” She came rushing over and saw Blake on the ground, her pupils extremely cat-like. “She’s hyperventilating! Blake you gotta calm down! Look at me. Deep breaths.”

Try as she might, Blake couldn’t. Her senses felt heightened beyond anything she’s ever felt. The cries of friends became muffled and their tearful expressions blurred. Blake once again found herself fading into darkness.

xxxx

Blake couldn’t understand what was happening to her or how long it lasted. As quickly as the darkness came, there was light again. However, it wasn’t sun light; and she wasn’t on the sand. Blake was staring up at the ceiling. A quick head tilt told her all she needed. Blake in a hospital, Menagerie’s hospital. Wait…

Blake sprung up. “How’d I get here!?” She looked at her to see an IV drip connected. She was about to take it out when the door opened. Blake gasped to see her father walk in. He was just as surprised to see her awake.

“Blake!” He ran over and gave her a hug. “Thank goodness you’re okay!”

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

“Me? I should be the one asking you that. At least…that’s what I would say if Sun hadn’t filled in your mother and I when we returned.” Ghira finally stopped hugging but grabbed his daughter’s shoulders. “Blake, how could you not tell us something so important?”

Blake’s eyes softened with guilt. “It’s not as if I didn’t trust you. It was just…a lot to process. I’m still processing. Ugh, my shoulders.”

Ghira let go. “Sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“No, it’s not you. My entire body feels like lead. What happened to me? How am I back here?”

Her father sat by her side and stroked his beard. “Well for starters the doctors say you had a severe panic attack. As for how you’re here, you arrived by airship flown by Ilia; along with several other ships with more of Sun’s friends.

So that was it. Sun or Ilia must’ve told the rest of team SSSN ahead of time to be ready with evacuation. It was pretty ridiculous that asking for their help didn’t even cross her mind.

“You’re not all they brought. There were few others. The ones that didn’t need immediate help or couldn’t manage in Vacou. Unfortunately… some didn’t survive.”

The pit in her stomach came back again. “I see. Guess it would’ve been wishful thinking to assume otherwise.” Blake gripped her knees and shut her eyes. No need to beat around the bush. “Where’s Adam?”

“He’s in intensive care, underwatch.”

“Take me to him.”

“Blake you need to-”

“I’ll search every room, so just tell me.” Blake removed the IV drip and proceeded to leave. Ghira didn’t think twice following behind her. He didn’t even know why she asked for help. Blake was heading in the obvious direction. Where the noise was loudest.

Way down the hall near the back of the hospital had many empty rooms. Menagerie typically never reached close to max capacity, so the fact several rooms had wound in it at all was a shock. The furthest room was surrounded by guards . The only thing in their way being Yang.

One guard in particular, a man with a faded scar on his right eye, confronted the blonde. “For the hundredth time, step aside.”

“You know I would’ve thought the third time I said no would be enough to get the point across. Ninety seven more times feels obsessive.”

“Ma’am if you continue this behavior then-”

Blake called the guard’s “Saber!” They all turned to the approaching leader and former leader. “What’s this about?”

“Blake! You scared me half to death!”

“Madam, your friend refuses to let us in and restrain the terrorist.”

“Restrain? He couldn’t even see last time I saw him. I’m shocked he made it on life support.”

“Be that as it may, he’s far too dangerous to be left unrestrained. Once he no longer needs treatment he will be locked up and tried-”

“He’s not going to jail.” Blake said calmly. No surprise that everyone looked at her like she said something crazy. By all means it was. “The world thinks he’s dead. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Keep it that way? He’s wanted everywhere; terrorized everywhere! We can’t simply keep that under wraps Mrs. Belladonna.”

“Said who?” Blake challenged, standing up straight. “The world already has its story and as far as I’m concerned, it’s pound of flesh as well. That hell we found him in was worse than anything a judge could pass onto him. Besides, people would get unrest learning he’s alive after everything that happened.”

“That doesn’t change anything! His name causes panic and discourse regardless if people think he’s dead. All the lives he’s uprooted, the divide. A beating-”

“Saber.” Blake’s voice cut through the air like her blade, demanding attention. “Do not try to preach to me about the people he’s hurt. I’m well aware.”

“That’s…I didn’t…” Saber bit his tongue. Yang put her hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Take it from me, you’re not going to persuade her.”

Blake walked to the door and faced all the guards. Their mixed emotions plain to see and obvious frustration. “All of you have protected the people and my family more times than I can count. You’re always dependable. I trust you. However, I can’t just ask you to keep this a secret; I’m ordering you to, as High Leader. Wash your hands of it completely.

Saber and others were stunned. “You can’t…Ghira, you’re just going to let her do that!? That’s a blatant abuse of power!”

“Calm down Saber. It’s true that I would never use status like this and I would advise my daughter to tread lightly with that title, but I have no more power than you here. Let’s all just…discuss the details later. For now I don’t see the point in alarming everyone about our…our patient.”

“Your patient, not mine or the guards.” Saber and the guards began to take their leave. “But we will not say a word, per the High Leader’s orders. However, I expect that man to be in one of our cells discreetly. Once he heals of course. Discussing his fate means nothing right now.”

Blake kept any remarks she had about that condition, choosing to bow instead. “I appreciate your cooperation.” She rose, not expecting a reply. “Yang, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I was only around in the first place because I wanted a check up.” Yang rubbed her stomach. “Looks like stubbornness runs in the family. Doctor says the little spitfire is perfectly fine. Embers are burning strong.”

“I’m glad to hear, honestly. Heh…Ember, that’s a good name.”

Yang chuckled. “Meh, too on the nose. But…I’ll give it thought. Sun was here earlier by the way. He took Jacquelyn to your home with Ilia. Those two weren’t exactly happy with the guards. Not to guilt trip you but Sun has been doing a lot without question. Love or not, you owe him.”

“She most certainly does.” Ghira piped up. “Your mother didn’t take the news well.”

Blake winced. Yang patted her back to offer any comfort. She never saw Kali angry before but if she was anything like Blake was on that mineshaft, then Sun was a real trooper. “Listen Blake, try to slow down for a while. For everyone’s sake.”

“I…sigh, yeah.”

“Good. Hate to tell you but I think I’m at the end of my rope. I’m spent.”

Blake frowned. It made sense, but it still hurt to hear. “I take it you’re leaving then? Sorry this trip wasn’t anything it was meant to be.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Yang smiled, pulling Blake into a hug. “I made up with my ex. Be safe, okay?”

“…Sure thing.” Blake’s arms tightened the hug. Funny, was Yang always this warm? Blake couldn’t remember. Maybe it’s just been far too long since they felt comfortable with each other. “Let me know Jaune’s reaction.”

“Oh I’m recording it.” Yang let go and walked away. However, she felt the need to look back at Adam’s door. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think we rescued the person we fought at Argus, but that doesn’t mean I think you’re right. Still, I hope you prove me wrong.” Yang waved goodbye and left. Hope wasn’t something she had for the situation. Nevertheless, if Blake called, Yang would answer. And who knows? Crazier things have happened. It made her wonder…

“Hmmm, I should talk to mom again.”

Blake couldn’t explain why Yang’s words calmed her nerves but it did. She gave her loving father a glance. “I should‘ve told you and mom from the start. I’m sorry.”

“Sigh, I’m not upset. Not anymore; I feared this secret was quietly terrifying you; that him being out there would give you unrest. I never expected you to come to his defense.”

“Do you think I’m being stupid?”

“Sweetheart, of course not. There’s not a day that I have thought that. However, recklessness and na��veté, no one is immune to those.”

“Dad, you’ve taught there’s strength in forgiveness; that it is infinitely harder to believe a person can change after they crossed so many lines. I…I can’t go around preaching that to others around the world if I don’t at least try once, really try. So…” Ghira placed his hand on her. His calm expression and gentle eyes locked with her as he nodded ever so slightly. Blake grabbed his hand and nodded back. “Watch the door.”

“Oh you were never going to stop me from doing that.” He smiled.

Blake let go, finally going inside. The shades were tilted to let in a bit of light; the windows tightly locked. There he was, the center of all of this, laying in a hospital bed. Adam’s face wasn’t swollen anymore. Now it was only covered in red and purple bruises. Monitors beeped steadily and he was hooked up like she was, but with the addition of a nasal cannula. Blake took a seat to unwind.

“I know you’re awake.” She watched Adam’s head turn to her and smirk. The man opened his tired eyes. Right of the back, Blake understood what Yang meant. “Hey…”

“Hey. You look a little rough there Blake.”

“Like you’re in a position to say that?”

“Heh, I always look rough. Now I just feel it too. Gotta admit, I’m shocked I cheated death again. How’s Jackie?”

“Seething or crying most likely, but safe.”

Adam let out a sigh of relief, sinking into his bed. “Good. I thought I heard her earlier but I wasn’t sure.” He noticed how tense Blake looked. Her ears were alert and posture rigid. “I take it you want answers?”

“No shit! What the hell happened? The last time I saw you was when both of you took off in an airship. Had I known you two were planning to hide in Menagerie’s desert…”

“Her idea, not mine. Though I gotta admit that it was pretty solid for the most part. Up until now anyways.”

“That’s what I don’t get. Out the blue, people with an axe to grind come knocking on your door and-”

“They weren’t here for me.” Adam interjected, sitting up slowly. “Blake, Menagerie is ground zero for White Fang. They came looking for anyone they wrote off as a beast who needed correcting. Plans changed though once they found me.”

Blake’s eyes widened. That thought never crossed her mind but it made sense. Plenty of old White Fang members chose to stay here. If they saw Ilia as a beast then of course they would look here. It was only by coincidence that she was in Vacou helping.

“You’d be surprised how many people actually try sneaking onto the island from the desert. Most don’t last while others are more persistent. One day Jackie went off to town and that’s when they showed up. That had to have planned it because the timing was too perfect and the numbers were too heavy for infiltration. The house was surrounded and I was in bed.”

“They caught you off guard, of all people ?”

“Things have been quiet for years. I don’t go into town so yeah, I wasn’t expecting karama to open the door like it opened the place.”

“We were inside the house. There wasn’t a sign of a struggle whatsoever.”

“Because I went quietly.”

“Why!?” Blake stood up forcefully. “It makes no sense! You’d sooner die than let anyone capture you. I don’t care how many years it’s been.”

“…heh, you’re not wrong. Truthfully, I was ready to slaughter as many as possible. But…the house would’ve been obliterated; and Jackie would’ve come back to a literal dead beat. Did she tell you that she’s pregnant?”

“You knew!?” Blake gasped, “She said she didn’t tell you yet.”

“The house is only so big. Jackie is bad at hiding her feelings and items, like a pregnancy test. Even without it, things were obvious. I’m with her constantly.”

Blake took her seat again. Now things were fitting together. “You left to protect her.”

“More or less. I don’t know, that’s giving me too much credit. I did leave for her safety but also to keep myself alive a bit longer. I never doubted that she would look for me. Involving you though… I guess her pregnancy was more of a hurdle than I thought. Jackie never wants help.”

“She was a mess when I found her in my house.”

“Like I said, she doesn’t hide emotions well. So, I doubt I have to tell you anything else. You saw where I ended up. Is Sobek dead?”

Blake clicked her tongue and narrowed her eyes. “I can’t say. The mineshaft was sealed but that’s all I know, and we both know that no body doesn’t mean death. ”

“Hehehe.”

“How could you laugh at that!? It’s not funny. I’m so sick and tired of….ugh, I don’t even know what’s pissing me off anymore!” Blake put her head in her hands.”

“…Things would’ve been easier if I died that day, huh?”

“YES! I mean…no, I…what are you doing!? What’s the angle!? Why is everything connected to you just a spit in the face to me!?” Blake got up again, tears running like a river. “All things you’ve done to me, the bonds you tested, I should feel nothing but anger for what you’ve done to me; yet the day I learned you were still alive was a weight off my chest. I wanna tell myself I don’t care but even now I’m happy to see you actually speak to me in earnest. You didn’t believe in my dream, my beliefs, and this entire mess not only proved I’ve actually done nothing so far, but also that I’m clueless to what’s happening in my own home! Despite all that…I ran to you. Adam I killed for you. Sobek was made because of you and yet I felt anger deep inside I never had before. I was borderline feral! Yet here I am, upset at myself because I’m buying into every little prayer that I have about believing you are changing as a person and aren’t playing the two people in this world that actually want you alive!” Her lungs burned immensely.

Adam watched her eyes constrict and her body shook violently, yet just as Blake said, her eyes didn’t hold the rage he once had. They could never hold it. Adam bit down on his lip, straining his body to get out of bed. The stitches on him bled while his legs barely kept him up. Forgiveness was unthinkable to ask for. There wasn’t much he could say that wouldn’t sound wrong or halfhearted. Still, saying nothing now was not an option.

“Blake…” he leaned forward, falling actually; gently onto Blake who caught him. “Thank you for having hope. As for that anger, it’s proof you’re different from me, Jacquelyn, Sobek, and anyone like us. Righteous fury, to truly be angry for someone else’s circumstance, it’s why people follow you; why they will continue to follow you. Why…I’ll follow you.”

Blake hadn’t realized it until now, but she was still trying to keep calm; to let the turmoil inside her subside, but now…she couldn’t. Not after that. Her legs gave, falling to the floor with Adam. The tears she thought were running free rushed out twice as hard as Blake audibly began to cry her heart out, gripping Adam’s clothes.

“Please…I’m begging you…” She sobbed heavily. “Let this be real.”

He finally put his arms around her, unsure of all his actions. “I swear.”

Words weren’t enough, but a foundation needed to start somewhere. Against many opinions, Blake chose to believe in his words. It was far too late to turn back now. The tidal wave of emotions that festered inside had finally run its course. Blake couldn’t say she felt better right now, but she didn’t feel worse. A small victory, but one nonetheless. All the tension Blake had made her fail to notice the rummaging outside the door. Suddenly it swung open, startling Blake to her feet. In just a single blink, a blur of black and white dashed behind Adam. It was the girl that was near him in the desert.

Ghira rushed in. “Sorry! I tried stopping her, but she barreled her way through.” He looked at the hospital gowned girl who growled and quivered behind Adam. “Do you…know this girl?”

“I guess you can say that. She was in the mines too.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that little one. If that’s the case then having you run around might be dangerous if you aren’t healthy.” Ghira took a step and the tiger faunus ducked behind Adam in fear, shaking. He took a couple steps back. “Poor child. I can’t imagine how she’s feeling right now. Does she…have a family?”

Adam was about to speak but small hands gripped his shirt. Jasmine made no effort to speak. She simply stood there, her eyes vacant and almost dead. She would’ve been nonexistent if not for the fact they were all looking right at her.

“Can she speak?” Ghira asked.

“She can, or at least could.” Adam reached for her. The child’s eyes softened slightly, her ears falling down when his hand rested on her head. Jasmine’s eyes shut tight and she began whimpering. Tears trickled down dark sunburned cheeks.”

“I can’t imagine what happened in that place, but it appears someone got attached.”

“She snuck past guards to speak to me several times. As well as stopped them all from branding me with another scar. Both her parents and her brother…didn’t make it.”

Blake could only ache for the child. To have lost so much so early on. It was clear to see why Adam would be drawn to her. “What’s her name?”

“It’s-”

“Sienna.” Jasmine said, breaking her silence and shocking everyone. “My name, it’s Sienna.” Her voice was meek and a bit dry. The lie came naturally, almost like instinct. However, it didn’t feel like a lie. Not to her, or to Adam. An unspoken acknowledgment happened when their eyes met, a sad truth and new reality. Back in the mineshaft in that cruel cell, there may have only been one body, but two people died there. A brother and sister that loved each other to the end. The girl he rescued was not the one who got imprisoned; nor would it ever be.

“That’s right.” Adam uttered, lamenting the deaths brought by his own past arrogance. “Her name is Sienna.”

[firefly464]

The Real World - Chapter 6

Ok I’m really curious to see what you guys think of this one. Let me or Pami know what potential theories you may have because thats always very interesting 👀. 

Also I dunno if I’ve mentioned this before but constructive criticism is always welcomed and very much appreciated! I’m always looking to improve as a writer, and I’ve found that critiques 

Made in collaboration with @i-have-this-now

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~~~

Dream stepped into the small building that had been dedicated to peace negotiations. It wasn’t much other than a single room with a long table, but the tension inside could have been cut with a knife. On one side of the table sat George, Sapnap, Punz, and Eret. All four were tense, ready to attack at any moment. It was completely different from the joking, playful atmosphere that has surrounded them that morning. Sapnap glared at the masked man as he entered the building, likely considering just how many different ways he could strangle him. Dream was once more thankful for the mask covering his face, as he turned away with a grimace. 

On the other side sat Tubbo and Fundy. The L’Manberg side of the table was filled with a very different atmosphere. They both wore expressions of very hesitant hope. Tubbo turned to Wilbur as he walked in, his eyes asking a silent question. 

The older man gave a small nod, his face revealing nothing. A of disbelief spread over Tubbo’s face. “What's the catch?” he asked hesitantly, staring at the masked man for an answer. 

A very small smile formed on Dreams face, although it was hidden to the younger boy. He shrugged, saying, “None. The Dream SMP surrenders to L’manberg.” 

The skeptic look on Tubbo’s face only increases. 

A low growl emerged from Sapnap’s throat. “Dream, you can’t do this,” he hissed sharply.

Dream ignored him, pulling the document from his bag. He rolled it out on the table. On the top of the document, in big, bold letters, read “Treaty of Surrender.” Under that, the words “By signing this document, the Dream SMP hereby recognizes L’manberg as its own, independent nation.” Below, in smaller print, was a list of different agreements. It wasn’t complex, mostly just outlining the basics of any peace treaty. But everyone knew what it meant. 

A quill sat in a small inkwell on the table. With a steady hand, Dream picked it up, and signed the paper. He had nearly started to sign his actual name, but had managed to catch himself last minute. Setting the quill down, he glanced at the men sitting at either side of him. “I require that at least one of my own men signs this treaty as a witness,” he declared, staring them each in the eye individually. 

The resulting silence was palpable. Not a single person stood, offering to sign the document. ‘They’re all too prideful. They don’t want to admit defeat,’ Dream thought as he looked at them. 

2 to 3 minutes passed in silence. Then, something surprising happened. Eret stood, staring at the paper with a furrowed brow. “I’m still becoming king, right?” he asked.

Dream nodded. He had figured that Eret had been promised the position by the other Dream, so he had made sure to include it. “Of course.” 

“Then I will sign.” In a swift motion, Eret signed the document and tossed the quill onto the table in front of Wilbur. 

Dream sent his friend a relieved smile. “Thank you Eret. Now then. Wilbur, it is your turn to sign.” 

Wilbur quickly read over the terms of surrender and signed the document, Tommy signing as well as witness. 

The entire room seemed to hold its breath as the quill scratched against the paper. It felt like the entire world had let out a huge sigh of relief the moment Tommy picked the quill back up. Dream smiled and rolled up the document. “Well then. The treaty shall be kept in here for safe keeping. You guys are good to go if you want,” he said, trying his best to sound official and important sounding.

Apparently it worked. Tubbo stared at where the document had been sitting moments before. In a soft tone, he whispered, “we did it…” 

Wilbur placed a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, and very quietly replied “Yeah. We did it”

~~~

Dream watched as Tommy, Wilbur, Fundy, and Tubbo all left the small building. He had been hoping to leave as well, but one look at the people around him told him that wasn’t going to be an option. He gulped nervously. 

The moment that the L’manberg soldiers were out of view, Sapnap was on his feat, sword in hand. He stormed over to Dream, pinning him to the wall, blade across his neck. His face was twisted with anger and rage. “You son of a bitch what the hell was that about?! What the fuck were you thinking?!?!” 

“I have my reasons Sapnap,” Dream choked out. It was the second time in 24 hours that someone had held a sword to his neck, and it wasn’t a trend that he particularly enjoyed. Hopefully, it was a trend that wasn’t going to continue. 

“Bullshit! You swore to me that you were going to win this war! Not that you were going to fucking surrender!” He cried, pressing the blade into Dreams skin. Small beads of blood started to form where metal met skin. “We had them! We fucking had them and you went and threw it away like a coward!” 

“I didn’t realize that letting people live was such a crime Sapnap!” Dream shouted back. “I didn’t fucking realize that it was illegal to feel pity or sympathy!” 

His friend stared at him, before putting even more pressure against the blade. Dream was starting to panic slightly “I didn’t follow you to be lectured on granting mercy, Dream. I followed you because you swore you would win.” he took a step back, allowing Dream to fall to the ground at his feet.

Dream coughed several times, trying to recover from his windpipe being crushed. He pounded a fist to his chest, trying to clear his airway. When he looked up at Sapnap, he was greeted only with a kick to the chest, sending him sprawling across the floor. The mask, so carefully fixed by someone he had thought of as a friend, had flown across the room. Dream didn’t care. He wanted that mask gone. 

He lay there on the ground for a minute, trying to desperately catch his breath. “Wh-why…?” he asked, the words coming out as desperate gasps for air. 

“Heh. Never thought I would see the day when the great Dream lay at my feet, begging for mercy. Oh how the mighty have fallen,” Sapnap said with a chuckle. He turned towards the door. “I’m leaving. If you have any need of me again, you know where to find me. Just next time, I expect some actual fucking results.” 

George walked around the long table as Sapnap left, looking at his friend in concern. Eret and Punz had already left, leaving just the two of them. “I really hope you have a plan,” he said. His eyes were full of pity as he walked away, leaving the gasping man alone on the floor. 

~~~

“Dude, are you serious?” It was late at night, around midnight. Dream and Tommy were back at the training grounds, each trying to learn how to fight. Of course, they didn’t exactly have anyone to teach them, so they were both just practicing basic moves that Dream had seen George use. The results were… varied, to say the least.

As they spared, Dream had told Tommy what had happened earlier that day after the conference. “I mean, I knew Sapnap was a little bitch, but I didn’t realize he was that much of a dick here”

Dream shrugged. “He used to joke that he was like a mercenary, and only in it for the money. Guess that it’s less of a joke here.”

“I feel like anything that was jokingly on stream held some sliver of truth here. Including everyone’s personalities,” Tommy chuckled as he blocked a strike “that’s probably why no one trusts me here. I kinda acted like a complete idiot on stream”

“You still do.”

“Oh haha. At least I wasn’t a fucking psychopath”

Dream shook his head “I still don’t get why I was apparently so scary…”

“You literally sent us a voice clip saying that you would burn L’manberg to the ground if we didn’t surrender”

Dream let out a sigh “yeah… Yeah I suppose I did” 

Sensing the sudden mood shift, Tommy quickly tried his best to change the subject. “So… What about George? Is he any different from back home?” 

“George is…” Dream’s voice trailed off as he thought, trying to figure out how to put his thoughts into words. 

“George is no different from how he’s always been,” said the man in question as he stepped out of the shadows. For the third time that day, Dream found himself with the blade of a netherite sword against his throat. “Now then. Would either of you care to explain who the hell you are and what you’re doing here?” 

Tommy dropped his wooden training sword and raised his hands into the air, trying to look as harmless as possible. “George, how much… How much did you hear?” He asked, keeping his voice calm, despite the fact that he wanted to scream.

George shifted the blade so that it was now pointed at the teenagers throat, shutting him up rather quickly. “I heard enough to know that neither of you are who you say you are. What the fuck is going on?” 

Dream took a small step towards his friend, his hands up as well “Look, we’re still Tommy and Dream, I promise.” He knew that he couldn’t try to lie his way out of this one. To be honest, their best option was probably to tell the truth and hope George could keep his mouth shut. 

“Exactly!” Tommy chimed in, trying to be helpful. Dream glared at him. 

“Please. I’m not an idiot. I knew something was wrong from the moment you shot Tommy during the duel. The real Dream never would have taken off his mask, much less show any sort of regret,” George said, stepping forward so that his blade rested against Dream’s neck, in the exact same spot Sapnap had cut earlier.

“I’m still Dream, I swear! Just because I’m not fucking insane doesn’t mean I’m a different person!”

“Maybe, but the real Dream would know how to fight. He wouldn’t be flailing around with a sword like a chicken with its head cut off.”

Tommy snorted “He’s got you there. You do look really stupid.”

Dream made a choking sound in surprise “I- You look just as dumb!”

“Maybe, but at least I’m not supposed to be the world's greatest swordsman” 

“As a child, your opinion is automatically invalid”

“As a child, I automatically don’t give a shit.”

George’s eyes darted between the two, as if he were watching an intense tennis match. “Enough!” he finally yelled, shutting them both up pretty quickly. “All I want are some fucking answers!” He pressed his sword more against Dreams throat, opening the thin cut and allowing a small trickle of blood to form.

Dream gulped and looked at Tommy. Normally he would have taken control of the situation himself, but he didn’t exactly trust himself to not anger his friend. 

Tommy nodded, and started to explain their story. He told George how the two of them had suddenly been transported from their home to the SMP world. He explained how neither of them knew what was going on, or why they couldn’t leave. He even explained how back home, everyone had been friends. The war had been nothing more than a game, a show that they had put on for the sake of entertainment. As he spoke about his own home, he could feel tears start to pool up inside his eyes. He hastily tried to wipe them away, but it didn’t matter. George had already seen. 

The man lowered his sword, not once taking his eyes off either of them. “So you’re telling me that you come from a world where all of this,” he gestured around him towards the world as he spoke, “is completely fake.”

“Yeah, that sums it up pretty well,” Tommy replied, rubbing the red scar on his neck. It was a nervous habit that he had quickly picked up from Wilbur, despite the fact that he hadn’t even been there when he had received the scar. 

Dream stumbled back, using his jacket sleeve to try and stop the stream of blood from his neck. There was already a dark stain on the cuff from earlier that day. God, he was going to get a lasting scar if this continued. “We just want to get home,” He told George, “I promise, we don’t mean anyone any harm.”

George pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You both do realize how unbelievable this all sounds, right?”

“Yeah, we know” 

“I really don’t want to believe you… But this explains so much. Is that why you trashed your base?”

“I told you I was feeling stressed. I just may have failed to mention what exactly I was stressed about”

“I knew you weren’t feeling well… I just didn’t realize it was because of something like this. That's why neither of you know how to fight anymore, isn’t it?”

Tommy shrugged “Sword fighting isn’t exactly a common sport in our world. I’ve never even touched a real sword before this week.” 

“Oh my god… Does anyone else know?” George asked.

Dream looked over at Tommy, silently asking a question. Tommy shook his head “The only person who knows something is wrong is Tubbo, and he thinks I just have amnesia from a weird enchantment or something.” 

“Are you serious? I thought we agreed not to tell anyone!”

“This was before I even knew you were here! How else was I supposed to get any information? Besides, Tubbo’s my bro. I trust him not to tell anyone.” 

“What about Wilbur…? Does he know?” George asked, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Nope. I mean, he clearly knows that something is up, but other than that he has no idea.”

“That doesn’t seem right… Wilbur should know that his second in command is missing.”

Tommy cried out in outrage, “What do you mean? I’m right here!” 

“He means the other you. You know, the one that actually lived here?” Dream said calmly. 

“Exactly. That other Tommy is currently missing. Who knows where he could be. Wilbur deserves to know.” 

Tommy let out a groan of annoyance “ughhhh fine! I’ll tell him tomorrow. 10 bucks he isn’t going to believe me.”

“No way am I losing 10 bucks like that,” Dream replied. 

“Killjoy,” The teenager muttered. 

George was once more watching them both with confusion. He looked down at his feet, trying to weigh his options. That’s when he noticed the discarded training swords. An idea sprang into his head. “What if I tried to teach you both sword fighting? I’m not the best, but the other Dream taught me, and he was the best of the best.” 

Dream grimaced. Just another reminder that he was just an imposter. Still, he forced himself to nod. “That would be good. Thanks.”

~~~

“Please, I just want to go home…” Tommy said into the phone. It had taken a bit of work to convince Wilbur and Tubbo that he wasn’t insane and definitely knew what a phone was, but they had eventually caved. 

Wilbur hadn’t wanted to question his younger friend after who knows what had happened to him. It would have just stressed him out and made everyone more upset. So he had allowed Tommy to borrow his phone to call Dream. Now, him and Tubbo were sat at the table in Tommy’s backyard, hearing only snippets of the one-sided conversation.

“What do you mean? Why not?! I won’t do anything I promise!” A couple seconds of silence. Tommy’s face went slack in shock. “You can’t be serious. No, no no no you’re joking, aren’t you. Y-you wouldn’t dare.” More silence. “Fine! I won’t, I swear! Just please don’t do it.” 

Wilbur watched the conversation with concern. He could hear Tommy’s raised voice from where he was sitting, and what he was hearing was definitely good cause for concern. He glanced at Tubbo, who looked just as worried. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. Bye.” A long, drawn out tone sounded from the speaker. Tommy sighed and walked back over to Wilbur and Tubbo, trying his best to hide his tears. It didn’t work.

Tubbo was instantly on alert, trying to check on his friend. “Hey man, are you ok?” He made sure not to get too close after getting hit in the jaw. 

“Y-yeah. Yeah I’m good. Just… just a bit in shock still. A lot has happened in the past week…”

“You want to talk about it?” Wilbur asked gently.

Tommy shook his head violently “No. No I really don’t. Don’t worry guys, I’ll be fine. Thanks”

~~~

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[secondhand-trash]

A/N: words cannot described how entertained I was when I was writing this...

Warning: suggestive themes

Word count: 1888

(click here to see more of Osamu’s bento)

(taglist in the notes, please go to the link in my bio or send me an ask to be added to the bento taglist uwu)

-

Previously...

You were so determined to tell him everything as it was, but you immediately didn’t have the heart to do it when you were met with his round eyes fixed on you.

You had it coming…

“Yeah,” you said, “we are going through this real big project right now and everyone is on edge.”

He took your hand and pressed it against his cheek. You smiled as he leaned into your touch, caressing his jaw with your thumb. He was lucky that he’s cute, you thought to yourself, silently deciding that maybe you would try to be a little bit more openminded the next time he turned your lunch into a meme canvas.

“Then I should try to bring you some excitement with your bento then! Something that both taste good and can motivate you visually!”

-

You might have deliberately left out that the true reason to your exasperation was the fact that your brain was squeezed dry after playing a game of edible pictionary under Osamu’s drive, but you didn’t exactly lied about anything either. There was really a big project your department was undergoing and it was pushing everyone’s mental well-being to the edge. Your friend, the one who sat at the cubicle opposite to yours, nearly had a meltdown in the office the other day because the drafts of a powerpoint was printed in greyscale instead of in colour. The head of the department, a middle aged man who looked like a round department store mascot and never raises his voice, was heard sobbing in his office after getting off a conference call with the management board. Needless to say, you had been walking on eggshells in every waking minute and you felt like you had aged by years just from theses few days.

The only bit of joy you had in the office was the short 30 minutes you were mercifully given each day to fuel your body with food so you could continue to be tortured by work. Osamu kept his promise with changing up what was in your bento every single day with no repeats. Making count of what you had seen in your bento had become part of your daily routine. You had gotten several different pepes, a few cat memes and some very ambiguous looking faces (most of which you assumed to be him). You were hesitant to accept his new hobby of using your lunch as a creative outlet but now you appreciate it to no end.

Slamming the door shut, you placed your palm flat on the wall and sighed as the soreness in all the muscles you did not know was in your body started getting worse and worse.

God could give you 48 hours in a day and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m home...” you muttered, kicking your shoes to the side as you limped into the living room.

Osamu appeared from the doorway and took your bag from your hand. You groaned at the weight that was finally off of your shoulder, rolling your neck to feel each joint cracking. He caught you in his arms swiftly when you latched onto him, putting all your weight on him as you allow your tired legs the rest they needed.

“Urgh...” your voice came out as an inaudible noise as you groaned into his chest, rubbing your face against the fabric of his shirt. He let your bag fell onto the ground with a chuckle, wrapping his arms around you as he felt you sinking deeper into his embrace, “if it goes on like this I’m not going to live to see tomorrow’s sunrise..."

You whined as he rubbed soothing circles on your back, the warmth reaching from his palm to your body. You felt your limbs slowly reviving under his touch, his hand trailing from your back to your shoulder blades then down your spine again. You could feel the rumbling from his chest as he spoke, his voice low by your ear and his breath ticking your neck, “Do you need me to give you some motivation?”

A sound that resembled a choked moan slipped from your lips when his hand pressed down at a particularly stiff spot on your back, “Please do.”

The corner of his lips curled up at your breathy reply. Brushing your hair away with his finger, he dipped down to the sensitive skin of your exposed neck.

“Can you make nanban chicken for tomorrow’s bento?”

He froze in place at your request. Ah, you had taken his suggestion towards a completely different direction. He thought that he sounded pretty sexy when he was whispering in your ear but perhaps the suggestive tone lacing his words went lost in your tired brain.

He bite back the sigh that was threatening to leak out, “Of course.”

-

Osamu didn’t try to initiate anything again the next couple of days, mostly because you came back looking like your soul had flown away from your body every single night that he felt bad for even thinking about doing anything that might tire you out even more. Was it bad that the thought of not being able to do anything actually made him even needier? Perhaps. But it had been a while and quite a while since you had done anything intimate and being a normal young man with normal needs, he felt like the even the slightest bit of skinship he could get from you was setting off something indescribable in him. 

Like right now, on the long weekend that he had been looking forward to every day for the past week, he swore he would combust if you shifted around next to him for just one more time on your couch that felt particularly crowded today.

You smelt so nice, he silently thought to himself as he buried his nose in your hair, and your skin was so warm. Your body fit against his perfectly, each sharp corner and soft bump molded together like the world created you two to fit with each other like this.

This was good, and all he needed was a slight push...

His arm around your waist tightened and his hand started wandering to the side of your thigh, "You know, it’s been a while since we... you know...”

He tried his hardest to not press against you when you pushed your hips back as you turned around to face him, “Hm?”

“And I miss you...” his voice was dripping with honey as his lips ghosted over where your ear connected to your neck.

You grinned, feeling the way he got more and more handsy all over you, “Is that so?”

Osamu felt his chest swelling when you didn’t push him away, “Uhm.”

Your hand was on his toned chest as you slowly sat up and he couldn’t help but let out a heavy breath in anticipation when you inched towards him.

He nearly lost balance and fell off the couch when the doorbell rang.

He wanted to scream when you perked up, snapping towards the door in excitement, “Oh it must be my parcel!”

A million different curses in all the languages he didn’t know he knew ran through his head as you leaped out of his arms, leaving his hand hanging in the air as you hopped over to the door.

His eyes followed your frame like a puppy who got kicked to the side as you, not sparing him a glance, happily walked into your room with the card box in your hand.

Running his hand down his face, he let out a muffled groan as his plan was spoiled. Throwing his head back in frustration, he felt the dread building up inside of him when he felt the familiar stuffiness in his pants.

Oh. Oh hello.

Not that you were aware, but he had gotten rather familiar with the shower and its temperature settings the past week and as he once again shivered under the cold water that rained on his head like a waterfall, he contemplated the possibility of being drowned in a cold shower.

-

Your hand was shaking as you moved the mouse so that the arrow on the screen hovered over the send button.

Was this all? Was there anything you needed to add? You paused, your mind in a state of blank before your finger bounced against the key. You stared while the page buffered, before it returned to your mailbox.

You blinked, processing this sudden overwhelming feeling that was the fact that there was nothing you needed to do anymore.

It’s over. The earlier hollowness caught up to you in the form of thundering joy and trumpets going off in your head. You finished up everything.

You could not help the little squeal that you let out as you stretched your arms wide, rolling your shoulders bac to reward them for carrying you through. Clasping your hand together, you almost felt like humming when you saw that it was just in time for lunch.

You could not be in a better mood. Your work was done and you managed to get it cleared out before lunch. How long had it been since you last had the leisure to really savour your food instead of gulping it down to squeeze out more time? 

You paused when you opened the lid of the bento, tilting your head to the side as you took in the very oddly shaped onigiri that was sitting in the center.

Hm- oh? Oh.

You scrambled to shut the box up with flailing hands when you realised what it actually was, looking around in panic to check if anyone had seen what was inside just then. 

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? 

What was he thinking? Your chest was pounding and your face was steaming with embarrassment at the very visual representation of the last thing that was safe for being shown in the office. How the hell would he think that this was a good idea?

Sliding your lower body off your chair, you carefully lifted up the corner of the lid so that you could peak inside to confirm your suspicion.

For fuck sake.

You attracted the bewildered gaze of a few concerned colleagues when you flopped down onto your desk, hiding your burning face on the cold surface to calm down your mind that was going haywire from what you have noticed in addition to the what you had figured out earlier.

That dummy did not model it after his own...

-

You were not sure if you wanted to be angry or amused when Osamu gingerly, but also a bit anticipatingly poked his head out from the doorway to observe you from afar when you came home that night.

All that was left was for him to have a tall to wag behind him when he stared at you with his round eyes like he wanted to say something but was also too scared to bring it up.

“Samu.”

He immediately stood up straight, “Yes?”

“I’ll give you 10 seconds to explain yourself.”

He blinked, his eyes skittering around the room before focusing back on you, “Was it not obvious enough?”

You found yourself unable to question his logic. Palming yourself, you did not know if laughing was the right reaction when he snuck up next to you and very awkwardly pulled you closer to him before resting his chin on your shoulder, looking up at you with a look that he deemed to be extremely irresistable.

Fine, he looked kind of cute.

You wanted to smack him when he very eagerly latched onto you when you turned to face him, his hands being everything but well-behaved as he leaned over to kiss you square on the lips.

His eyes widened when you put your hand on his face right when he was almost touching you.

“Should I worry about you doing that again?”

He shook his head frantically, looking at you from behind his bangs with a pleading look.

You laughed, before moving your hand away and let him close the distance between your lips.

[sewellsheart]

Merciless Haze - Part 2/3

Summary:  She was ripped from her unconsciousness with such ferocity that she thought she must have been comatose as every one of her senses rushed towards her with agonizing vividity.  Her typically sensible mind was left flailing, finding itself too incapacitated to focus on any single thing. 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Warnings:  Mentions of blood, death, vomit, detailed pain, and mental instability.

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: Nate Sewell x f!Detective (Sophie MacNamara)

Read on AO3 

“What if I was definitely going to die? As in, no ifs, ands, or buts, I was going to die?”

It had been a late night in mid-December when the topic had first been brought up.  Sophie’s drunken mind had never had much of a filter, and after the near year she had spent knowing Unit Bravo, she felt more open to asking the hard questions she knew they did not want to answer.  Well, all except Farah.

“I’d do it for you, I think we all would.” She had chirped, her voice almost too cheery for the conversation at hand, but gave a lightness Sophie appreciated.

Judging by the faces of the rest of the group, Sophie was not so sure the others necessarily agreed with the answer Farah provided for them.  Her eyes wandered over to meet Nate’s.  The gentle smile that had graced his face for a majority of the evening was now gone, replaced by a light frown and a furrowed brow, his fingers gripping the body of his wine glass so tightly she was worried he would shatter it.  She could see the questions floating in the back of his irises.  Adam spoke before him.  

“It would be a rash decision to make in a moment's notice.” He stated plainly before lifting his own glass to his lips, but even she could see the touch of caution he held in his stance.

“Then we can avoid that by making a decision now, no?” She pushed.

“I would hardly say you are in any state to be making choices as detrimental as those.”  His statement had been meant to put an end to the conversation, to allow someone else to jump in and change the topic.  Sophie persisted once again.

“For all you know I could die tonight and you would be regretting the fact that you allowed this conversation to be brushed off.”  

“Surely you have more faith in our abilities to protect you than that, Detective.”

“You’ve failed before.”  The words had flown out of her mouth before her mind could catch up and process them.  Rarely was she so forward, and never would she intend to hurt those she cared for most, but it appeared she had done just that.

The room had fallen almost completely silent, the only sound being the crackling fire that Morgan stood by, her face unreadable but her body tense.

“We have.”  Nate broke the silence, his voice hesitant, just above a whisper.  “That is something I’ll hold guilt for for the rest of my existence.”

A sentiment she had been aware of, but one she had never wanted him to hold.  Yet, there she sat in a drunken stupor, reinforcing his regrets and ripping every consoling word she had given him to shreds.  He had never liked it when she tried to comfort him about what had happened on that dreary early-spring night, but she meant every word she told him.  She felt like she had just taken it all back.

“You know I don’t blame you for that.  Not for a second would I ever believe that that was your own fault.”  Her words were sincere, but not enough.

“So do you blame us or not?”  Morgan had cut in.  Her voice was sharp, a tone that had become almost unfamiliar to Sophie in the past months since their trust for one another began to develop.

“No, I’m sorry I just-”

“Sophie.”  Nate’s voice was firm but held no aggression, only meant to gain her attention.  His expression softened once more.  “Let’s go to bed.  We can talk about this another time.”

She had nodded, knowing that he would likely never bring it up again if he could avoid it.  Nevertheless, she stood, taking his hand before making her way out of the room, but not before Farah offered her a reassuring smile.  Sophie could not bring herself to return it as she felt Morgan and Adam’s eyes follow her out.

Her sober mind would have brought the topic up gently, not try to turn it into some kind of morbid joke.  She wished she had never brought it up, especially in her drunken state, but the thought had been taunting her endlessly, and so she had allowed the whiskey to speak for her.

Her and Nate walked to her room in silence, his hand had moved to her waist, both to balance her and to keep her close.  This time, she broke the quiet just as they approached her door.

“Nate, please don’t think I meant it that way.  I was only-”

He silenced her briefly with a soft kiss, a gentle reassurance, both of his hands holding her face.  He rested his forehead against hers.  “I know what you meant, darling.  I know your heart.”  Another kiss, another interruption, another attempt at changing the subject.  “You need rest.”

“No, Nate, I’m not sleeping until you let me say what I need to say.”  She knew her words were slightly slurred, that her accent was thicker than usual, but her tone told a different story in regards to her coherence.

A pained smile of acknowledgement crossed over his handsome features,  “Of course.”  He turned to open the door to her room and entered, Sophie following close behind, attempting to gather her thoughts.  Nate closed the door behind her, his movements as tense as his tone had been, before he turned to face her.

Sophie was suddenly struck by his expression.  He almost looked tired, obviously dreading the conversation she was forcing them to continue.  A soft pang of guilt settled in her chest.  She knew he had been avoiding the subject, perhaps thinking that if he brought it up himself he would put thoughts in her head, and he had always valued her independence.  Almost as much as he valued her humanity, her mortality.

“I’ve been thinking a lot.” She started.  From there she did not know how to continue, how to tie every thought that had kept her awake at night, had her dreading even the thought of leaving the house alone.  “I just - I’m so happy Nate.  I have never been this happy in my entire life and I’ve never been so fucking afraid because of it.”

As a look of confusion claimed his face, he took a step closer to her.  “You’re afraid of being happy?”  His eyes were soft as they gazed over her face.

“No, God, no.”  She rushed to correct him.  “I’m afraid it’s going to end.  I’m afraid that one day I’m going to walk outside and someone will decide it’s the perfect moment to slit my throat, or shoot me in the head, or beat me bloody and then it will all be over.”

He reached out to hold her hand once again, disturbed by her words yet seemingly familiar with the thoughts.  She wondered if the same thoughts had kept him awake during the occasional times he chose to rest.  He let her continue.

“Nate, I’ve never cared more about my life than I do now.  I want nothing more than to spend the rest of eternity with you, and Farah, and Adam, and Morgan, and…” She trailed off, her voice beginning to crack as her emotions built up.  “ ...and I’m scared that I won’t ever get to do that.”  She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and she let them fall.  

She had cried in front of Nate before, but not like this, not out of a rare genuine sense of fear.  She had cried about her lonely childhood, her near non-existent relationship with her mother, and the death of her father.  She had cried about things far more inconsequential, like too much stress at work, her dishwasher breaking while she was PMS-ing, and her car breaking down for the third time in a month.  Never had she felt so uneased, so disturbed by what should be the happiest time of her life.

He pulled her close to him, embracing her by her waist as her own arms entangled themselves around his neck, and leaned the side of his head against her’s.

She felt him open his mouth to speak, but this time she was the one who stopped him.  “I’ve never been afraid of death before.”

Nate pulled his head back to press their foreheads together once more, his brows knitted in thought and his eyes shut tightly.  He opened them after a few long moments, revealing his own earthy brown eyes to be as wet as hers.  Sophie suddenly felt achingly sober, the dullness that came with her intoxication stripped away as everything became far too present.  Nate’s hand brushing against her cheek pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Why must it be that the thing I wish you would cherish is the very thing that strikes the most fear in us both?”  He gave a shallow sigh.  “How long has this been bothering you?”

Too long, she thought, but simply settled for “Awhile.”

He gave a hum in response, processing his own thoughts, carefully choosing his words.  “I don’t want to… get into too much detail, but the process and the pain it brings is beyond description.”  He paused, pulling back just enough to be able to look her in the eyes.  “I don’t want to see you go through that.”

“But it ends, doesn’t it?  The pain?”  Her words were soft.

Nate studied her gaze, holding nothing but adoration in his own.  “Yes, it does.”

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

She was ripped from her unconsciousness with such ferocity that she thought she must have been comatose as every one of her senses rushed towards her with agonizing vividity.  Her typically sensible mind was left flailing, finding itself too incapacitated to focus on any single thing.  She did not know where she was.  She did not know who she was with.  She did not know if she was even alive.

Bile rose with the panic in her throat, she could feel herself thrashing, attempting to grasp onto whatever she could find.  Sophie felt a firm hand place itself in between her shoulder blades and push her upwards, holding her in place as she heaved into a pot placed in her lap.  She was not sure who had put it in front of her.  When she finally raised her head in an attempt to ground herself, regret swallowed her whole.  The room was spinning, her body so off kilter it may have been warping the shape of her soul.  

The hand on her back moved to the front of her shoulder to guide her back down onto what she now realized was a bed, her bed.  She stared up at the ceiling and caught a glimpse of blond hair, then a distinct smell of cigarette smoke before her eyelids forced themselves shut.

If the fire she had felt in the forest was the beginning of her being lit aflame, the pain she felt now was what it must feel like to be completely engulfed.  Her body felt cold despite the pressure of what must have been a dozen blankets on top of her.  Cold and hot at the same time.  It took her mind a moment to find the word.  Fever.  

Sophie had never felt less like herself than she did in that moment, degraded to a sick woman in bed pleading for the endless pain to finally grant her mercy.  She knew she was crying, wailing even, reciting Irish prayers that had not passed her lips for nearly a decade.  She was the weakest she had ever been in front of the strongest people she knew, people that her mind was finally able to identify.  

Adam and Morgan were by her side, the two people who were easily the least capable of comforting a writhing woman, but most capable of bearing the sight of what was undoubtedly a disturbing scene.

That was the most reasonable explanation as to why Nate wasn’t by her side, they probably would not have let him in if he tried.  They wouldn’t let him see her in the state she was in, covered in sweat and blood, smelling of vomit, begging for relief in the few words her tongue could form, completely unrecognizable from the typically strong and silent woman she was.  

She knew that he likely fought with them in a way that was as gentle as it was demanding, asking to at least be with her in her moments of silence when unconsciousness overtook her once again, and she knew that the other two would have sternly, if not vehemently denied his request.  She longed for him to be with her, keeping her close as she worked her way through the storm.

She heard the hushed words of her friends, but could not understand them.  Still, she found comfort in the familiarity of their voices, Morgan’s low and languid, Adam’s deep and taut.  She wished that comfort was enough to distract her from the electric pain running up and down her spine, weaving itself between her excruciatingly tense shoulder blades and down to her tailbone.  Sophie felt as if she had no control over her own movements, her muscles twitching endlessly, accompanied by an agonizing ache in her mouth.  She was not sure how much more of this she could take, how much longer she would last before her thoughts returned to the darkness she had felt in the forest.

She was beginning to fear that death may be the only way to make it all stop.

She did not want to die.

All she wanted was Nate, and as she felt herself begin to slip back into the relief of an unconscious mind, she imagined him wrapping his arms around her waist,  enveloping her in the safety of his strong arms.  Wherever he was, Sophie took solace in the fact that he could not be far.  He would be there to comfort her, to hold her, when this suffering finally ended, when she was finally granted clemency, when this burning crescendo came to a halt.  

For now, she would let the darkness caress her once more.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

There was a prompt by @frances-the-red:

Oh no! Geralt lost his engagement ring! 😱 What happened and how is the godling Hansi involved? (Just a silly little prompt if you ever become bored. Love your writing! 🧡)

I changed the engagement ring to wedding ring because there has never actually been an engagement, let’s just say that’s not a Nilfgaard custom ;) Also, I changed Hansi to the more common Johnny. I think nobody will understand the joke anyway and English-speaking gamers just know him by this name. Hansi is his name in the german dubbing (which is the same as Johnny) and that happens to be the name of my favorite Heavy Metal singer, too. And I love that you prompted me with it :)

One last thing: I had to alter the outcome of a specific Witcher 3 quest for this. Usually, Sarah only meets Johnny if you throw her out of the house where Corinne meets her. So for this story, let’s just assume it went a bit different. 

Enough babbling! This one is called “A seeker enthralled by a flame” (Avantasia lyrics this time), read under the cut or on AO3. 5330 words, rated G.

   The second of waking up, Geralt realized something was fundamentally wrong.

This had nothing to do with the fact that dull rays of the sun shining through the curtains indicated morning was already advanced. Nothing to do with him waking up in a foreign bed. Or that half of his body was hanging out, as if it missed the habit of a much larger bed. All of this was not unusual. So what was it? When his eyes opened, Geralt immediately knew where he was (in Novigrad), what he had been doing the night before (getting drunk with Dandelion and Zoltan out of pure reunion), and why he was here (a contract, of course, and this was a stopover on the way back).

Nothing of all this was wrong. What he could see of the room without moving his head (possibly one too many beers) was normal. A guest room at the Chameleon, furnished with Dandelion's somewhat exuberant taste and clearly refined by Priscilla's hand; fresh flowers and fruit on a sideboard. The fingertips of Geralt's right hand brushed wood. It took him a moment to realize that his arm was hanging out of the bed, touching the floor. The floor felt normal, as did his body, which was slowly waking up and painfully reminding him that he needed to pee.

But he was not ready yet. His mind was still trying to trace this feeling, even if it might well have been only a vague thought from a dream. Lost in thought, he involuntarily began tapping a kind of rhythm on the floor, an odd imitation of what Emhyr did when he became impatient. And then he understood. An ice-cold feeling ran through his abdomen, and the natural need was gone.

The ring was missing.

Hastily Geralt raised his hand, straightening in the bed, bringing his fingers close to his face, staring. His ring finger had a small, light-colored indentation, an imprint that made it even more evident that something was missing. His wedding ring was gone. Against better judgment, Geralt jumped out of bed and carefully examined the floor; he even crawled under the bed, checked every crack, combed the whole room.

It was simply easier to assume that the ring had slipped off his finger (it sat perfectly, he never took it off, not even when he put on gloves and went into battle) than to believe someone had dared to steal it from him. That was ridiculous. Stealing from a witcher? In one of the hottest establishments in town (a fucking wicked, disgusting town full of disgusting subjects, well). Even drunk as he had been last night, that was not possible. Who would dare to enter his room without him noticing (impossible) and pull a ring off his finger?

It was undoubtedly a valuable piece, but the silver... Geralt's eyes immediately darted to the wall next to the bed, although he had long known what he would see. The swords were still there, leaning neatly against the wall in their scabbards.

That didn't make any sense. Who would steal a ring when there were two swords whose common material value was significantly higher? Indeed, the blades were almost unsaleable – no merchant in his right mind would buy witchers' swords, especially those whose engraved runes were more than clearly traceable to the owner. Nevertheless, Geralt hurriedly began to check the rest of his equipment. The armor, the saddlebags... everything was there; nothing was missing.

Geralt sat down on the bed, resting his slightly aching skull on his hands. Had he perhaps lost the ring during the evening? Or – even worse – had he, in a frenzy, agreed to use the piece as a prize in a game of Gwent? He was notorious (well, in the eyes of a certain man at least) for occasionally doing idiotic things, but Geralt thought something like that was out of the question.

Besides, he didn't want to imagine that possibility because it would have meant that, in a few days, he would have had to confront his husband to tell him he had lost the ring. The symbol of their love come true, the flame that he always carried with him like the one in his heart....

"Silly. And you're hyperventilating."

There wasn't really a voice in his head, but he could imagine it very well (and that was very close to what Emhyr would actually say before he found out the ring was gone). Besides, the voice was right. Geralt took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. If the idea of being robbed seemed absurd, at least there was a way to find out if it was valid. All he had to do was focus on possible clues in the room. However, that was easier said than done; after all, he was in Novigrad, in a much-frequented house – supposedly the most popular in the whole city. Looking for traces in this room was like telling a dog to search through a massive pile of shit to find out if his best friend had been there.

The same was true for the smell. However, chance aided him – this room didn't seem to be used quite as often. Perhaps Dandelion indeed did keep it only for friends at all times, or maybe he exaggerated his establishment's popularity. In any case, most of the traces and smells that Geralt's senses picked up were older and not of concern. Quite clearly, his own smell still hung in the room, an almost visible cloud of alcohol, leather, horse.... well, he had arrived only a few hours before. But there was something else. More like a hunch that someone else had actually been here – a kind of whiff, an indefinable but strangely familiar smell, as if he had sensed it once before, and a tiny trail of footsteps, as delicate as if that had been just a ghost. But a ghost would have left no visible traces at all.

Even these were almost impossible to see, smell or feel. It was strange, but at least a better explanation than that he had simply lost the ring. Still, what creature would have managed to pull the thing off his finger and disappear with it completely without a sound and almost without a trace? There was only one way to find out, and, if possible, before anyone saw him without the ring. Now it didn't seem like such a good idea that he had presented it so openly (because he was damn proud of it).

Geralt left the Chameleon like a suitor who had fallen asleep over his secret lover – very quietly. No one was awake yet anyway. He disappeared without a message, which was not that unusual, and sneaked out through the back exit. It was challenging to follow the delicate breeze on the streets and impossible to make out the tracks anymore. Almost as if the thief had fled across the rooftops – a not so unlikely possibility. Besides, the city itself stank of all the shit that places like these stink of: too many people and their numerous vices.

His motivation was high (if not desperate), so his focus was tremendous. The sight of a witcher trudging through Novigrad with a grim expression on his face, looking neither left nor right, was not common even here. As so often, his reputation preceded him, and if he had bothered to look into the eyes of the people who hurriedly avoided him, he probably could have guessed which of the numerous things said about him they were most likely to believe. He didn't care anyway. Geralt followed the fleeting trail of a breeze mixed with so many smells that it became almost impossible to keep track of it.

Twice he lost it, once he almost lost his nerve, and yet he held on convulsively to that one delicate scent. It led him out of the city, which was good; it would be easier to track now. Only briefly did he give up following the scent because, outside the city gate, he was sure to find it again. The trail led directly away from the main road, which didn't surprise him. The brazen thief surely had not been interested in encountering any guards. So he unhitched his horse from the capable businessman who had recently started running a livery stable near the entrance.

/

*//////{<>==================-

\

   It went cross-country, over meadows and fields, which Geralt had to ride around as a precaution if he did not want to incur the farmers' wrath, and he lost valuable time, but never the trail. Whoever had taken the ring had been nimble, and they were several hours ahead of him. But he wondered where this would lead. The ring had hardly been stolen by a magpie that had flown into its nest with it. So why through the countryside and into the forest? Maybe the thief just wanted to hide and wait because there was no direct way to the next town from here, and Geralt still considered it doubtful that it would be possible to sell the ring, just like the swords. However, some crazy collectors paid a fortune for witcher's memorabilia. Maybe there was a black market for his wedding ring. This was such a monstrous thought that he already imagined what he would do to the thief if….

Geralt stopped as if rooted to the spot. The scent ceased here, in a small clearing of beech trees, in the middle of a meadow, sprinkled with daisies and wild herbs. He had been leading Roach on the reins for quite a while because the forest had become too dense. Now he let go, patted her briefly, and whispered to her to be good and stay put, which earned him a snort that sounded almost contemptuous.

The trail might end here, but that didn't mean he had lost it. He perceived a presence that was trying to hide, but... Geralt looked up.

"Johnny," he said. "You can come down now."

Up there, perched in a treetop, sat the reason why the smell had appeared familiar to him from the very beginning. He had just not been able to assign it to the little godling immediately. In fact, Geralt had not expected to see him again at all.

"I don't want to," resounded a pitched voice from above.

"I can imagine, but I'd rather you come down. My neck hurts from staring up."

"That's old age."

"I'm sure you know something about that," Geralt replied patiently. "Come down now. I want to ask you something."

Johnny grumbled, and he played coy for a few more seconds, but he seemed to realize that he would not escape the witcher just by hiding in the tree. So he climbed down the bark as nimbly as a squirrel, but when he reached the ground, he still kept some distance.

"Long time no see, witcher," he chirped, though also with a certain mistrust – which, in Geralt's opinion, he had good reason to feel.

"Johnny, you know it's dangerous for you to show yourself outside," Geralt began carefully.

The little one grimaced.

"I'm careful. Besides, sometimes it's pretty boring to just sit inside all the time."

"You promised to watch Corinne – and Sarah, didn't you?"

"And I do! Really!"

Now a genuine smile covered the godling's face, who outwardly and also in many traits almost resembled a child. The smile might have as much to do with his conspecific Sarah as with the sorceress who had taken them in. They could have lived a pleasant life in the wilderness, where they would not have had to hide all the time. But the godling's natural kindness had driven Sarah to return to Novigrad as if she felt a connection with the oneiromancer, and Johnny had gone along. It was certainly not a forever bond, but it seemed to work.

"I'm sure you do," Geralt replied, "But listen.... is it possible you paid me a visit last night?"

Johnny's big eyes had an innocent look.

"Maybe?"

"And did you maybe take something that doesn't belong to you?"

Johnny scratched his head.

"Well, that would depend on how you define property, I guess."

Geralt sighed.

"My ring, Johnny. Why did you steal my ring? And don't even try to deny it. I know you have it in your little pouch."

Involuntarily, the godling's gaze went to the slim bag he carried over his shoulder. There could hardly be a more apparent admission of guilt, and he noticed his mistake immediately.

"Oh, unfair," he complained. "You tricked me. That'll teach me to play with witchers again."

"This isn't a game, Johnny," Geralt said, now noticeably more severe. "Give the ring back."

"Oh, but I can't."

"Why not?"

"I need it."

"For what?" sighed Geralt.

"That's a secret," the godling quickly replied.

"Johnny..."

"No, no, I won't be fooled again!"

"I'm sure Corinne doesn't know anything about it. Right? Would she approve?"

"You're not going to rat me out, are you? That's not proper between friends."

Johnny was visibly indignant now.

"It's not proper between friends to steal from each other, either."

The godling sighed.

"Oh, fine. Suppose you don't rat me out! Promise!"

Geralt counted very slowly inwardly to ten before answering, albeit through clenched teeth.

"I promise. So?"

"Well, if you can give anything on a witcher's word of honor.... I'll try to summon Liuba."

Geralt stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Liuba, the goddess of love?"

Johnny nodded eagerly. Geralt narrowed his eyes.

"Listen, I have no idea how this works among you godlings, but if Sarah isn't interested in you in that way, summoning a tricky goddess certainly isn't the best approach..."

"Dumbass. It's not for me," Johnny interrupted him. "It's about Corinne. She's been pretty lonely since she started taking care of us. She doesn't go out much, and even though we've offered to leave, she says she doesn't want us to. As far as we know, there are hardly any mages left in town. It is reasonably safe, but most are suspicious. And Corinne believes that no one who doesn't understand her powers can love her."

"Did she say that?"

Johnny sighed theatrically.

"We're magical beings, witcher. She doesn't have to say anything."

"All right, but... Johnny, you and Sarah are already very rare. Gods are – well, in many cases, just myths. Things made up by humans who found winter too cold and dark. And even if Liuba does exist, she may not be the best choice. According to her legend, she more or less killed a woman who asked her for help. Which technically fulfilled the deal to reunite her with her beloved, who happened to die on the battlefield at the same time."

"Hogwash," the godling replied contemptuously. "I do believe that gods exist. And that they are nothing other than magical beings, just like us. You should understand that, even if your magic is a flyspeck compared to what I can do. That they are myths, yes, that is a merit of the humans, and that's good because otherwise, they would have probably wiped them all out. This way, they've just forgotten many of them."

Annoyed, Geralt blew a strand of hair out of his face.

"All right, let's not argue about the existence of gods. Why does my ring have to be the pledge to call her?"

"It must be a symbol of true love," Johnny said seriously.

"Surely there will be enough love to be found in Novigrad..."

"You don't understand! What do you think I have tried already? Garters, lockets with drawings in them, love letters.... None of it worked. This may be a big city, but true love is rarely found."

"You stole all that?"

The godling shrugged.

"And a lot of wedding rings," he admitted. "But yours is special. There's much stronger magic in that."

"There's no magic in it at all," Geralt objected.

Johnny chuckled.

"You have no idea. There is destiny in true love, and the two combined are a rarity. Your ring radiates that. No wonder you don't realize it. You can't do anything but light fires and make people look elsewhere when you don't like them."

"That's not quite what..."

"That's some magic you don't know a thing about," Johnny continued. "Why you, of all people, have a ring like that is beyond me. There are far more beautiful wedding rings; believe me, I've had enough in my hand. But I haven't seen one that had an engraving like that. Even the metal was chosen with care. Almost all the wedding rings I saw were gold; yours is not."

"But what makes you think you can conjure Liuba here in the wilderness, of all places?"

"Ha, my dear, research!"

Johnny tapped his nose, a strangely touching gesture, even if it was meant to express superiority.

"Corinne had picked up some books so we wouldn't be bored. I honestly believe, secretly, that she genuinely thinks we're like children because of our shape. Well, anyway, one of the books was about local legends in the area. It was not difficult to get to the right place. The book said that some lovers claimed to have seen Liuba there."

"Did the book also say that it was dangerous?" Geralt asked dryly.

"It said that only true love could summon her," the godling replied unaffected. "Otherwise, Liuba would punish the callers. That's why I need your ring, you see."

"Well, let's say I believe all that; what happens if you succeed in calling the goddess with this pledge?" asked Geralt.

"She will accept the gift and fulfill my wish: that Corinne meets the love of her life. You know, she wouldn't have to take care of us. We can do it quite well on our own. But Sarah thinks we make sure her powers don't turn against her. I guess all this dream magic isn't that much fun."

"I can't let that happen," Geralt said seriously.

"What, you don't begrudge Corinne finding someone she loves?" asked Johnny indignantly.

"This isn't about Corinne. You can't give my ring to some goddess. This is my wedding ring, Johnny. It's very important to me."

"Weren't you listening? That's also one reason why it'll be so valuable to Liuba."

"I get it," Geralt replied grimly. "But it's my ring, and you can't have it. You'll have to find something else."

"I told you, I've already tried."

"All right... I'll try. I'll get you a pledge of true love that's just as good."

Johnny grimaced.

"I don't think that's possible."

"You do believe that you can summon a goddess, and I don't think that will work, either with my ring or if we sacrifice a virgin."

"That's barbaric," Johnny said indignantly.

"That's why we're not doing it," Geralt returned irritably. "Listen, you know I could just take that ring off you. But I don't want to hurt you or your, well, religious feelings. So I'm going to help you and get you another love symbol. I'm convinced it doesn't even have to be magical."

"But..."

"You don't even know her legend," Geralt continued. "The woman who summoned Liuba paid with jewelry. Among them was possibly a love pledge, a gift, but that's only part of the ritual, isn't it?"

Johnny nodded slowly.

"Well, there are a few other things required as well, I've already obtained them all, wasn't exactly easy either."

"You mean you stole those too."

"How could I have bought them?" the godling replied innocently. "So, what's your plan?“

/

*//////{<>==================-

\

   Geralt didn't believe for a second that Johnny would succeed in summoning a goddess - let alone that she was anything more than a legend. What he did believe, however, was that maybe something was there. The fact that the information in Johnny's book pointed explicitly to a particular location was hardly a coincidence. Also that the ritual was described in detail – although the special ingredient, namely the love pledge, was mentioned rather vaguely in the book, as he had gotten out of Johnny after some more inquiring. Geralt thought it possible that perhaps something really could be summoned at this point, but certainly not a goddess. A specter, perhaps, or a cursed being, a corgowrath, a Shishiga… whatever it was, he believed it to be rare and old, probably dangerous.

He asked the godling not to try to start the ritual without him but to prepare it so that they could start right away when Geralt returned. Meanwhile, he rode back to Novigrad, spending an outrageous amount of money on a small silver box decorated with tacky rose petals made of tiny, inexpensive gems. Then he spent considerable time unobtrusively looking around for a mage or sorceress. He could by no means go to Corinne with his request without betraying Johnny – which he didn't want to do because it was clear to him that the godling meant well. But as a being exceedingly connected with nature, he lacked the sense for many human characteristics, and he did not grasp the danger that could hide in such magical incantation. Furthermore, Geralt was aware that he would only get his ring back safely if he played at least partially by Johnny's rules. And in the end, it was always about playing with these creatures.

He found a mage who, even if they officially no longer had to hide, made a somewhat nervous impression. Geralt had the box covered with a spell that he had thought about for a while and was reasonably sure that Johnny wouldn't recognize what was actually behind it. This took a while, and the mage relaxed a bit, even admitting at the end that he still slept poorly, albeit the city was safe for his kind again. However, prejudices did not disappear from people's minds so quickly. Emhyr held back on the presence of soldiers in the city; it was still a sensitive topic in negotiations. Of the northern kingdoms, no one felt responsible either, which is why crime still flourished in Novigrad. Before leaving, Geralt recommended that the mage visit Corinne – just for safety. Briefly, the thought crossed his mind that he was traveling in the matter of love, after all. That was ridiculous, and besides, it was none of his business.

When he returned, Johnny had prepared the ritual. He had set up a circle in the clearing, made of half-burned candles and at least one unused one. In the middle of it, he had placed a pile of gifts, mainly jewelry and love letters, all stolen like the candles – like Geralt's ring, but it was not among the other stuff. The godling noticed Geralt's look and defended himself by saying that all of this was only for security, to strengthen the spell.

"I really don't think that's going to work," Geralt said, "not even with this."

He held up the silver box.

"For someone who possesses such a mighty token of love, you're surprisingly doubtful of its power," Johnny remarked pointedly.

"Maybe, but I'm a reformed skeptic when it comes to love."

Johnny shook his head.

"So, what did you bring?"

"In this box," Geralt claimed dramatically, "I had one of my memories magically locked away."

"What?"

"A memory of a loving moment."

"Memories are powerful," Johnny mused. "I just hope it's nothing objectionable?"

Geralt shrugged.

"Love has many facets. Ultimately, it's up to your goddess to decide, isn't it?"

The godling still looked a little indecisive, but finally, he nodded.

"All right, I'll tell you how we do it," Geralt continued.

"But I've read the book, I know..."

"Well, you can do it as the book says. But as soon as the time comes when the box is needed, you give me back the ring. At that exact moment, you hear?"

Johnny tilted his head.

"That's not stupid," he said appreciatively. "You think if your little box isn't strong enough, after all, Liuba will be attracted to the power of the ring. In the end, the memory in your little box might still be enough for her. Clever."

"Exactly," Geralt lied without batting an eye.

"That way, you can keep the ring, and I can still talk to her.... it's just a little bit of cheating. I like it," Johnny said. "Let's get started."

So they began. Geralt lit the candles in the order Johnny solemnly told him to. He had even stolen a flint, which Geralt thought was almost more dangerous than anything else he had done. Then began a litany of mumbled words, a strange mixture of elder speech and some gibberish. Maybe some swear words, who could tell for sure.

At some point, the godling reached into his little bag, and at last, Geralt saw his ring again. The sight of it stung him a little. Perhaps it was indeed strange how attached he was to this object. Still, he did not regard the ring as a mere object.

"It's time," Johnny whispered, his face a single mask of concentration, his big eyes half-closed.

Geralt held out his hand with the box. The atmosphere was strange. Evening had fallen on the small clearing; the light had given way to a pale gray, at the edge of which still hung the last pink of the setting sun. The birds' singing from the forest had stopped; not even the woodpecker, which had been hammering on some trees almost all day, could still be heard. Actually, all sounds had fallen silent, even that of small animals in the undergrowth. Although a gentle breeze was blowing, not even a rustle could be heard.

That was strange, but even stranger was that the air, which had been pure and clear all day, seemed to condense. Johnny had insisted that Geralt put down the swords, but he had placed them on the floor not too far from him and was now glancing at them. If any specter was indeed going to show itself, he had to be quick. The silver sword was prepared in case, but since he didn't know what he was up against, he had to decide on a possible potion at the last second. And he had to get Johnny to safety somehow.

"Now," Geralt hissed as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Promptly, he held out the box to Johnny. The latter’s eyes seemed even bigger than usual, and a delighted smile now appeared on his face. He took the box and gave the ring to Geralt, who immediately put it on his finger. At the same moment, a strange glow seemed to fill the air. Geralt stood waiting at the edge of the candle circle, his knees slightly bent, ready to make a daring leap towards the swords. It seemed to grow darker around them, while a bright spot of light remained in the center of the circle. The air crackled. Suddenly Johnny chuckled and lowered his eyes in a shy gesture. Geralt stared over at him, frowning.

"What's going on?"

The godling did not answer. He seemed not to perceive Geralt at all. Then he nodded and began to speak incoherently.

"That's right," he said, and "What mage?"

He chuckled again. Then he pointed to Geralt.

"No, he has no idea," he said.

The witcher wondered if Johnny had gone mad. Nothing was there. It seemed as if an apparition was about to materialize, but at the same time, as if something prevented it from doing so. Johnny spoke to the air. Geralt thought carefully. What creature could manage to make itself entirely invisible for a witcher, not even causing the medallion to vibrate? It was also strange that the changed atmosphere had nothing dangerous about it at all. Nevertheless, he thought it impossible that Johnny was talking to a love goddess right now – or that she would show herself to the godling, of all people, who had nothing to offer but a handful of jewelry and a small box covered with a strong but rather silly spell. This only confirmed his suspicion that it was not about a love pledge at all. Geralt took a quick look at his ring. The engraved flame on it seemed to glow red. He ran the index finger of his left hand over it. It was all in his imagination; there was nothing at all.

Just at that moment, the strange sensation hovering over the surroundings disappeared, and suddenly, the birds began to sing again. The light was back as before. Everything was exactly as before, just as if nothing had ever happened – only the candles had all gone out.

"What was that just now?" Geralt addressed the godling.

Johnny looked at him innocently, the box still in his hand.

"Look, she didn't take it at all. Nor any of the other stuff. She said she'd do it for free for me. You got all worked up over your ring for nothing!"

"Better safe than sorry," Geralt grumbled, "What did she say, your goddess?"

He sounded so skeptical that Johnny burst out laughing.

"You don't believe it even now, do you? I suppose you didn't see anything? Well, these gods play by their own rules, my dear. She said Corinne's already been taken care of. I don't know what that means, but I think Sarah and I won't have to worry about her anytime soon."

"I see," Geralt replied. He couldn't think of any other answer. He made a mental note to ask Dandelion to check on Corinne occasionally. While he didn't actually believe Johnny had been talking to a goddess, as long as he didn't know what he was dealing with, he preferred to play it safe. If there was some spectral being around, someone would have to take care of it sooner or later.

/

*//////{<>==================-

\

   "You're late."

Emhyr, engrossed in papers in his study as usual at this hour, did not precisely toss aside his quill at the sight of Geralt, but he leaned back, regarding his spouse intently.

"Late?" asked Geralt, after closing the door and making sure they were indeed alone (occasionally, there were minions in the alcoves, scurrying out at a hint). Only then did he casually stroll around the table to pick up the kiss he thought he richly deserved. He got it, and it felt like he had actually been gone too long. The fact that he then sat down on the desk, however, earned him a disapproving look.

"You're crumpling important documents. All I’m saying is that, according to my information, you had already arrived in Novigrad about a week ago. Usually, you stay a day or two, then you head back."

"You sent your spies after me?"

"Certainly not."

"So you have spies in Novigrad?"

"Don't act surprised," Emhyr returned. "With your penchant for dubious adventures, you can't blame me for occasionally liking to know where you hang out."

"Dubious... pah."

Geralt grinned cockily.

"Then why didn't your spies tell you where I was if you think I should have been back by now?"

Emhyr didn't bat an eye, but at least he had to admit, "I'm afraid they... lost sight of you at some point."

"Well, maybe I just don't let myself be watched on my dubious adventures," Geralt countered. "I'll tell you about it sometime; however, right now, I want to get rid of the dust from the journey. Just this much: I was traveling in matters of love."

Emhyr folded his arms, raising his brows.

"Is this going to be some weird attempt to make me jealous?"

"Oh, would that work?"

"Sure, though it would be high treason."

"High treason?"

"Of course," Emhyr replied calmly, "betraying the Emperor is high treason."

"In that case," Geralt said, "it's a good thing your spies didn't get me."

He wiped away Emhyr's now slightly confused expression with another kiss. Before closing his eyes, he took one last look at his ring.

This story was probably better left a secret after all.

[awkwardpenguinproductions]

Camaraderie

Part 4 of the Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

Spring is in the air, as Kai likes to “sing”. The accursed snow is gone, and each day is a little warmer than the one before. Zuko barely notices.

The winter has flown by once he began training with his squad and with Master Ryoichi in earnest. He had begun measuring time not in hours or days or weeks, but in how many pushups he could do at a time, how far he could draw his bow to his anchor point, and how much longer it would be before the Master would introduce a new form. Nobody treats him like he's useless, even if he can't yet shoot with any degree of consistent accuracy. Kai and Jiyoti and Mika are always down to watch him demonstrate his firebending, and the awe and excitement on their faces makes Zuko feel like he can do anything. Even if Commander Toshiaki's dialed back his "missions" to test the Stronghold's security, Zuko's too busy training with his squad, joking around with Kai, and helping out with the komodo-rhinos and the messenger hawks to really care. He's pretty sure of his place with the Archers now, for the most part, and if Agni forbid he does manage to get kicked out, he can mostly take care of himself now. It would hurt, but it wouldn't be the end of the world.

It doesn’t register what day it is until he gets down to the mess for breakfast and sees the calendar. He freezes like a fox-antelope facing down a saber-toothed moose lion. His scar burns.

It’s been a year.

At noon today, it will be a year to the hour that Zuko begged his father for mercy on the floor of the Agni Kai arena, and got a face full of fire for his weakness.

Zuko can’t breathe.

A hand lands gently on his shoulder, and Zuko flinches with his entire body like he hasn’t done in weeks, in months. The hand shifts like it’s going to pull away, then resettles, firmer yet still gentle. Another hand taps between his shoulder blades, waits, then pats, waits, then pats with more force, until Zuko takes a tearing, ragged, gasping breath. The hand on his back rubs up and down his spine, soothing as Zuko wheezes though the buzzard-wasp drone of panic engulfing his body.

After what feels like an eternity, Zuko comes back to himself to find all the members of Chihese Squad gathered around him. Mika has him wrapped loosely in her arms, one hand on his shoulder and the other rubbing his back. Kai stands close enough to touch, dark Yuyan eyes wide and and worried. Jiyoti and Captain Hiroki are flanking the trio, the tension in their bodies screaming “don’t come anywhere near us!”.

Kai sees him looking around and smiles. Back with us, Danger Noodle? He signs.

Zuko swallows against his parched throat and nods.

You wanna talk about it, kid? Captain Hiroki asks. When Zuko shakes his head sharply, the older man nods. Alright then, let’s eat before we’re late for PT.

The last thing Zuko wants to do is eat, but being hungry makes him anxious, so he follows his squad to the tables where the mess staff lay out food. When Mika shoots him a Look, Zuko sighs and grabs a bowl of okayu, about the only thing he can stomach at times like these.

At the table, Jiyoti passes around cups of tea. The scent of jasmine nearly brings tears to Zuko’s eyes, and he can’t bring himself to do more than clutch the cup and ache with longing for his uncle’s calm, fragrant tea room in the palace.

A bao appears under his nose, and Zuko looks up to see Kai holding it out with a small, sad smile on his face. He places it beside Zuko’s untouched bowl of okayu and signs, You need to eat something, Zuko. Come on, it’s sweet bean, your favorite.

Zuko can’t say no to that face, even though his stomach is writhing like a nest of two-headed rat-vipers. He nibbles on the bao while the rest of the squad signs over his head. For once, he doesn't even try to keep up with the conversations, just keeps his eyes glued to his bao. Once that's gone, he slumps down, feeling like his whole body is wrapped in iron plating, making it nearly impossible to move. Someone scoots his okayu closer, and with what feels like a monumental effort, he starts spooning it up in tiny, slow bites.

He's halfway through the bowl when he just can't eat any more, and pushes it quietly away. Kai rubs his shoulder, and Zuko leans into the touch. His scar doesn't burn as bad anymore, but he still feels numb to the rest of his body, and Kai's touch is like a strong ray of sunshine in a frozen wasteland.

As one, the squad rises from the table, with Zuko half a step behind. They walk, Kai's arm now wrapped firmly around Zuko's shoulders as though to keep him from floating away, and Zuko doesn't really pay attention to where they're going until they're on the training fields.

The movements of the conditioning and strengthening exercises ease some of the weight on his body and bring some awareness back to his mind, so he feels almost normal by the time the Troop moves on to the archery range. The repetitive aim-pull-loose of shooting is very soothing. He's still learning how to aim consistently, so his arrows are a bit all over the place, but they're all in the target, so that's improvement, he guesses.

The time flies, and soon it's time to stop for lunch. Zuko's appetite has reemerged, and he manages an entire bowl of spicy noodles, much to his squad's relief.

Afterward, he heads over to where the firebenders do their training. He's the only one in the Stronghold who's still technically "in training" under Master Ryoichi, so his lessons are one-on-one, but there's always firebenders in the practice yard doing their own training. Today the practice yard is much less crowded than normal, and the people training there shoot him friendly smiles or nods but otherwise keep their distance, which Zuko appreciates. He's still feeling off from whatever happened this morning, and he just wants to do what he needs to do and be done with today.

Master Ryoichi raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn't comment on whatever is concerning about his appearance. They go through warm ups, review past forms, and the Master drills him on a new sequence that seems to twist his muscles up in knots. The Master's teaching style reminds him quite a lot of Uncle Iroh's––he only very rarely shouts, usually because something really dangerous is happening, but is otherwise soft-spoken and shockingly gentle for a Firebending Master. He only touches Zuko when he absolutely has to, to correct his stances and forms, and is positive and encouraging with him, something the palace masters Before had never been.

They end the training session with sparring, which Zuko loves. When he first started training with Master Ryoichi, sparring was a terrifying concept–– the palace masters never missed the opportunity to use it to force him to meet impossible expectations, and then berate him when he inevitably failed. But Master Ryoichi never expects more from Zuko than he can give, and has slowly made Zuko realize that sparring can be fun. The first (and so far only) time Zuko had managed to put the Master on the ground, the older man had grinned and congratulated him on his clever technique. The last time he'd won against one of the palace masters, the man had berated him for half an hour on how the win had been a fluke and how Zuko was a disgrace to firebenders everywhere.

This spar starts out simple, with the Master sending Zuko fireballs to practice his blocks and redirects, and Zuko returning fire with the intention of breaking the Master's rooted stance. Every so often the Master will call out tips and corrections and encouragement, and Zuko will do his best to comply, feeling a grin stretch across his face. They start coming in closer, using the fire-daggers technique that the Master had taught him a few weeks ago, a more advanced move that the palace masters would never have considered teaching Zuko Before.

Zuko gets distracted wondering if he could possibly firebend with his dao, and suddenly finds himself flat on his back on the ground, Master Ryoichi's flame-wreathed fist inches from his face. The Master's face morphs in a split second into Father's, sneering and cold, and Zuko's scar bursts back to life as his eyes squeeze shut.

He can't help himself.

Zuko screams.

He hears voices, feels hands on his shoulders, head, back, but Zuko is lost in fire and pain and terror so complete that he's blind and deaf to everything but his pulse roaring in his ears. He can't breathe, and his heart feels like it's going to punch its way right out of his chest, and all he can think is not again not again not again Father please not again NOT AGAIN!

A hand touches his face, and Zuko cries out and blindly swipes fire through the air. Someone shouts, and he whimpers and curls his body up tight, waiting for a beating, for a burn, for something that he knows is going to happen and is going to hurt. He's crying, sobbing in terror, and his whole body is shaking like a sapling in a wind storm, and his scar hurts like the day he got it, a year ago today.

He doesn't know how long he's like this before the waves of terror ebb away, leaving him limp and exhausted on the ground. He has a headache the size of Ba Sing Se, his scar still hurts like when it was fresh, and his shoulders and neck are sore from tension.

"Back with us, Cadet?" Dr. Atsuko's voice sounded like it was coming from far away, and Zuko opened his eyes to find her kneeling primly just out of arm's reach on the ground, right in his line of sight. Kai and Captain Hiroki are sat on either side of her, with Mika and Jiyoti just behind them. Kai is dead white under his Yuyan tan, and Jiyoti's eyes are wide and watery, while Mika and Captain Hiroki just look grim and worried.

"Master Ryoichi sent for me about an hour ago, after he couldn't get you to respond to him," she continues, dark bronze eyes assessing him keenly. "Can I check you over?"

Zuko gulps. He's not sure how he feels about being touched right now, but he's also a little weirded out that he apparently lost an hour. No wonder he's so sore.

"I'll be gentle," Dr. Atsuko assures him, and actually smiles. It looks a little strange coming from the stoic CMO, but it's small and a little lopsided and softens her face incredibly, and Zuko is immediately reminded of his mother and his heart aches.

He nods, just barely, and Dr. Atsuko's cool hands touch various spots on his body with exquisite gentleness. Zuko's skin still crawls though, and he shuts his eyes and tries not to flinch.

Snapping fingers make him open them again, and he looks at Kai, who's still pale but has a smaller, comforting version of his usual broad grin on his face.

Good to see you, Danger Noodle, he signs slowly, making sure that Zuko can see each movement of his hands. You had us worried there for a bit.

Zuko's heart sinks. He really screwed up this time, making his squad worry. Doggedly ignoring the stiffness in his arms, he balls a fist and rubs it weakly in a circle on his chest.

"You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about, kid," Dr. Atsuko declares sharply. "You had a really bad panic attack, and you don't need any additional stress right now. Captain Hiroki is going to take you back to the dorm and you are going straight to bed. This idiot––" she reaches back and smacks Kai on the back of the head, causing the older teen to pout "––is going to keep his hands still if he can't keep his foot out of his mouth."

Captain Hiroki leans forward. Can I help you up, Cadet?

Zuko doesn't really understand why people keep asking if they can touch him, but he appreciates the warning, so he nods slowly and takes the hand that the Captain extends to him. The older man easily pulls him to his feet, but Zuko's knees feel like water and don't want to hold his weight. He lets out an undignified squeak as he starts to fall, but Kai is there immediately, looping one of Zuko's arms around his neck and wrapping one of his own around Zuko's waist. When Zuko blinks at him in surprise, Kai just gives him a small, apologetic smile. Mika slips into place on Zuko's other side, and the pair of them basically carry Zuko back to the dorm, following Captain Hiroki who seems to be clearing their path with the force of his presence alone.

They make it back to the Yuyan dorm and tuck Zuko into his bunk. Jiyoti spreads Zuko's koala-sheep wool cloak over him, then his regular blanket, because the entire squad knows how much Zuko hates being cold.

Hey, Zuko, can I sit with you? Asks Mika. Zuko nods, a little confused. His squad has guard duty soon, shouldn't they be getting ready?

Mika settles herself beside Zuko and drops a hand onto his head. Zuko's hair is nearly long enough for a real topknot, and Mika strokes it like he's a pygmy puma kitten. Zuko freezes in shock before melting into the touch. He hasn't had someone do this since before Mom left.

Jiyoti asks if she can sit on his other side, and he nods vaguely, too busy enjoying Mika's petting to pay any real attention. Kai doesn't even ask before he clambers onto the foot of the bunk, sitting in lotus position and grinning widely at all of them.

Damn, Danger Noodle, getting all the ladies! He signs. Jiyoti and Mika glare at him, and Captain Hiroki smacks him on the back of the head.

I'm going to report to Commander Toshiaki that we're going to need to be taken off duty rotation for at least today, the Captain announces. Anybody need anything from the mess?

Zuko needs fire-flakes, Kai declares. Zuko considers kicking him, but in the end decides against it, because really, he's not wrong on a normal day, but right now he can't even think about eating. Jiyoti's glare intensifies though, and she kicks him instead.

Stop being obnoxious, Kai! She demands.

Here's a wild notion, Mika signs, turning a deadpan look on Kai. Zuko immediately misses her hand in his hair, but Jiyoti takes over almost seamlessly, scritching gently along his hairline behind his unscarred ear in a way that makes him melt and want to purr like a pygmy puma. How about we ask Zuko what he needs?

What an excellent suggestion, Sergeant, Captain Hiroki replies. Cadet Zuko? Do you need anything to eat or drink?

It takes everything Zuko has, but he limply manages to sign, Water?

Right away, Cadet, the Captain replies, a small smile crossing his face. I'll be right back.

Zuko sinks back into his bunk, Jiyoti and Mika snug against him on each side. He's so tired, but his head is clearer than it's been all day, like that panic attack had swept away all of the tension and fear he'd been carrying since he saw the calendar in the mess hall. He closes his eyes and lets the warmth of his squad around him sink into his bones.

After a while, someone gently pokes his arm, and he opens his eyes to find Commander Toshiaki sitting beside his bunk, sharing a pot of tea with Mika and Captain Hiroki while Kai and Jiyoti bicker. The Commander's eyes meet his own, and the older man puts his cup down.

Just wanted to check in on you after hearing Captain Hiroki's and Dr. Atsuko's reports, he signs, slow and calm. How are you feeling, Cadet?

Zuko takes inventory, finds himself still tired but not as blah as before, and shrugs. Mika pours him some water from a nearby pitcher, which feels incredible on his parched throat.

Hey Danger Noodle, up for some fire-flakes? Kai asks, holding out a small pouch.

"Don't you give him that shit, Private!" Dr. Atsuko's voice snaps out like a whip, and even though it makes Zuko jump, the way Kai jerks and flails and drops the bag of fire-flakes makes Zuko grin. Kai pouts first at Zuko, then at Dr. Atsuko.

Sorry Doc, Kai signs petulantly.

"You'll be even more sorry if he eats those and then throws them back up on you," Dr. Atsuko replies as she sets a tray down on the table between Zuko's bunk and Kai's. Sitting on the tray is a small copper pot and a bowl. "If he is ready, he's going to start with some broth first so we don't shock his system."

Zuko catches the scent of the broth and his stomach immediately growls like a tigerdillo. The entire squad and Commander Toshiaki all grin, and even Dr. Atsuko cracks a smile as she ladles broth into the bowl.

"That's definitely a good sign," she comments as she holds the bowl out. Zuko scrambles to sit up, and eagerly takes the bowl from her. It's just a simple chicken broth, probably the base for whatever the mess cooks are going to serve for dinner tonight, but it's warm and delicious, and he feels more normal after drinking it than he has all day.

Kai starts telling a story about his first encounter with a komodo-rhino, exaggerating his signs and making all kinds of stupid faces that has the whole squad grinning and laughing silently. Zuko finishes his broth and snuggles down between Mika and Jiyoti, watching Kai and then Captain Hiroki tell stories and feeling wonderfully warm and safe.

And then Master Ryoichi steps into the dorm, and stops a few feet away from Zuko's bunk. Zuko immediately tenses upon seeing him, and Mika and Jiyoti both notice. Mika's hand goes to the knife she always has at the small of her back, and Jiyoti wraps an arm around Zuko's shoulders.

The Master forms the Flame and bows deeply. "I only wish to convey my apologies to Cadet Zuko, and wish him a speedy recovery," he says. "I should have known better than to hold fire so close to such a terrible wound. Please forgive me, my brave pupil."

Zuko blinks, but nods hesitantly.

Master Ryoichi favors him with a small smile. "Thank you, Pupil Zuko. You honor me. I hope to see you on the training field tomorrow."

Kai jumps to his feet, eyes narrowed in fury, stance wide and shoulders back in indignation. Are you kidding me?! That's crazy! He shouldn't ever have to firebend again if he doesn't want to! Not if it makes him scream and cry for an hour like he did today!

Captain Hiroki snaps his fingers, and Kai snaps to attention, entire body rigid. Private, you are out of line! Apologize to Master Ryoichi at once!

"It's alright, Captain, he's only trying to protect his friend," Master Ryoichi soothes. "Private Kai, what happened today was unfortunate, but one cannot let fear dictate what one does or doesn't do. Cadet Zuko is a firebender. This is a truth that cannot be changed or circumvented. The sooner he faces and overcomes that which makes him afraid, the better off he will be."

It's okay, Kai, Zuko signs. He's touched by his best friend's protectiveness, but Master Ryoichi is right. He can't have a panic attack anytime a little fire gets too close to his face.

He turns to his firebending teacher and bows with the Flame. I will report for training at our regular time, Sifu Ryoichi.

Master Ryoichi grins. "I'm honored by your trust in me, Pupil Zuko. I will see you then. Rest well."

Goodnight, Master Ryoichi, the rest of the squad sign in unison, and the firebending master bows and leaves.

Hey Zuko, did I ever tell you about the time I put an eel in my older brother's bed? Kai asks.

No, tell me! Zuko demands, snuggling down again between Mika and Jiyoti.

Well, it all started because he'd threatened to braid my bowstrings into a fishing net…

Zuko grins as Kai mimics the snooty look on his older brother's face, pretending to scold the younger Kai for spending too much time with his bow. Jiyoti shudders with disgust as he describes wrestling the eel into his brother's futon, and Mika hides her smirk behind a badly constructed expression of disapproval. Captain Hiroki just sighs and keeps Zuko's water cup full.

Dinner time comes and goes, but his squad never leaves his side, until the signal for bunk-time sounds. One by one, his squad members leave to get ready for bed, but they always wait for the absent member to come back before the next person leaves, and soon they're all in their night-clothes but otherwise look like they haven't moved in hours. When the signal for lights out sounds, Jiyoti and Mika reluctantly head to their own bunks, but Kai stubbornly refuses, laying down on top of the blankets and wrapping Zuko in his strong arms. Zuko falls asleep to his best friend's snores.

Previous | Next

[it-fits-i-ships]

I took inspiration from a post by @the-stove-is-on-fire and wrote this oneshot (below the read more link) about an AU in which Spideypool adopts Danny and Jazz Fenton and the sheer chaotic energy of Danny and Wade’s dynamic threatens to drive Peter insane. Just in time for Trans Day Of Visibility too!

Danny Fenton sat next to Great Aunt May on one of the plush blue couches in the living room. Wade, who sat on the far side of the couch, had wanted to get leather seating but Peter, who sat between Wade and Danny, had insisted on inventing a new stain-proof fabric because Wade couldn’t be trusted not to make a mess. On the other couch were Jazz, Grandma Pepper, Aunt Morgan, and Grandpa Tony, who was lifting a wrapped box toward Danny.

“Happy birthday, kiddo!” he said.

“Thanks, Grandpa!” Danny said, eagerly ripping open the paper to see what treasures lay within, “Oh awesome! I’ve been wanting to play this game forever! I didn’t even think it was out yet!”

“It’s not,” Grandpa Tony said, “I pulled some strings.”

“You’re the best!”

“There’s one more thing,” Grandpa Tony said, pointing toward the box.

Danny dug further into the tissue paper.

“A key?” Danny asked.

“It’s a key to your birthparents’ house,” Grandpa Tony said, “They were good friends of mine and when they died I bought their house and maintain it so you and Jazz could go there when you were old enough,” he paused and looked around at Peter, Wade, and Jazz, “I already talked it over with your dads and Jazz and we figure since you’re 14 now it’s time to give you the option to go there.”

He looked between Grandpa Tony and his dads, then at Jazz.

“Have you gone there yet?” Danny asked.

“No, I wanted to wait until we could go together,” she said.

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

Peter placed a hand gently on Danny’s shoulder.

“Of course, son, take all the time you need,” he said.

That night, after the party was over and the guests had gone home, Danny lay staring up at the ceiling. His thoughts raced around in his skull like the spinning blades of his ceiling fan so that just when he thought he had caught one long enough to get a good look at it he would find it had flown from his grasp. Of course Danny had known he and Jazz were adopted. Peter and Wade had been very upfront about that. They had also made sure Jazz and Danny knew they were loved and wanted. Danny would be lying if he said he had never been curious about his birth parents. He didn’t know or remember much about them, and some part of him had always wondered where he’d come from, but Peter and Wade had been so good to them he never really felt like he had been lacking for anything.

When Danny was 10 he came out as trans and they had immediately put him on puberty blockers, switched to his new name and pronouns, and gotten him a haircut. Peter and Wade had never cared about clothing so even when Danny was young they had let him pick out “boy” clothes, which meant he didn’t have to get a new wardrobe when he came out. Jazz and their dads had Danny’s back during his social transition, correcting people when they used the wrong name or pronouns and defending him when people tried to tell him he was just going through a phase. Danny really couldn’t have asked for a better upbringing. So do I really need to know more about my birth parents? He thought.

Just then, he heard a soft knock at his door. He turned to see Jazz standing in the hall outside his room.

“Hey,” she said, “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he said, sitting up against his pillows.

“How are you doing?”

“Just trying to process.”

“I get that,” Jazz said, “It took me a while to wrap my head around the fact that our birth parents’ house is still intact, that we can actually go there and find out about them.”

“Do you remember them?” Danny asked.

“Not much,” she said, “I was only 4 when they died. I think they wore jumpsuits a lot?”

“Jumpsuits?”

Jazz shrugged.

“It was 12 years ago, I could be misremembering.”

“I don’t know if I want to go, Jazz,” Danny admitted, “Part of me wants to find out more about them but we already have parents, you know?”

Jazz sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Listen, Danny,” she said, “I’m not going to tell you what to do or how to feel. If you decide you don’t want to go to the house I’m not going to make you, and neither are Peter or Wade. This is your call. I want to go eventually and if you want to go then we’ll go together but if you don’t that’s okay too. I can always go with Peter or Grandpa Tony,” she paused and pulled him into a big hug, “Take some time to think it over so you make the right choice for you and then let me know what you decide when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Jazz,” Danny said, leaning in return his sister’s hug.

“Any time,” she said, standing up, “I’m going to bed. Make sure you get some rest too, birthday boy.”

Danny nodded absentmindedly.

“Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight!”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Danny stood, key in hand, in front of a house that simultaneously felt vaguely familiar and vastly alien to him. There was a large bunch of tech on top of the house that looked like some kind of UFO and a huge light-up sign that read “Fenton Works.” Who the hell were these people? Danny thought. After a few agonizing weeks he had decided to come learn what he could about his birth parents and Peter had agreed to drive them to the old Fenton residence. He didn’t break his gaze from the house as he felt Jazz take his free hand in hers.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said, stepping up to put the key in the door.

The three of them walked into the living room, which Danny immediately noticed had purple walls. On the far wall was an opening to a bright green kitchen.

“Wow,” Jazz said, “They had some, uh, interesting tastes in interior design.”

“What until you see the lab in the basement,” Peter said.

“The WHAT?!” Danny and Jazz said in unison.

“Why is everyone in our lives some kind of scientist or science experiment?” Jazz asked.

“Or both, in Grandpa Tony’s case,” Danny added.

Peter shrugged.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“What did they even do here?” Danny asked.

“They were inventors. They used their tech to hunt ghosts,” Peter said.

“Ghosts?” Jazz said incredulously, “Really?”

Peter nodded.

“So they were crazy,” she said.

“They preferred to be called ‘misunderstood geniuses.’”

“Sure, geniuses on a mission to catch Casper.”

“Jazz,” Danny interjected, “Our dads have super powers, Wade is constantly breaking the laws of physics, Grandpa Tony has personally met aliens and deities, and you’re hung up on ghosts?”

Jazz raised her finger and opened her mouth as if to counter his argument but then, seeming to think better of it, she lowered her hand and closed her mouth as an annoyed look overtook her face.

“Let’s look around some more,” she said.

“Can I go down to the lab?” Danny asked.

“I want to look up here first,” Jazz said.

“Can I go look around by myself, Dad?” Danny asked, turning on his saddest puppy eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Peter said, “Just be careful. Don’t touch anything and put on one of the jumpsuits so you don’t accidentally get anything on your clothes.”

“Awesome!” Danny said, already searching for the staircase to the basement.

He quickly found it, descended into the drab gray laboratory, and slipped into one of the jumpsuits hanging on the wall as per Peter’s request. The lab was lined with consoles that had glowing panels and various buttons and switches, counters and tables covered with all kinds of lab equipment from microscopes to complicated networks of flasks and tubes, and a very cluttered work desk covered in noted, equations, and diagrams but the thing that really caught Danny’s attention was the massive metal archway on the far side of the room. It sat open and he squinted to try and make out what was inside. It appeared to be the entrance to some sort of tunnel. Couldn’t hurt to take a closer look, he thought.

Carefully, Danny crept into the dark tunnel. He could hardly see anything in the dim light. What the hell is this thing? He thought as he walked distractedly forward with his hands out in front of him. Before he could contemplate the structure further, his outstretched hand ran right into something small and round. The thing gave a click, a pit forming in Danny’s stomach as the tunnel lit up like the 4th of July with swirling green shapes he couldn’t identify. The light seemed to pass right through him and he felt as much as heard the scream that ripped from his chest as every atom of his being burned.

The next thing he knew he was on the floor outside the tunnel. He awoke to someone shaking him by the shoulders.

“Danny!” Jazz cried frantically, “Danny, please get up!”

He sat up slowly and clutched his aching head with a groan, only to give another when Jazz threw her arms tightly around him and forced the air out of his lungs.

“I thought you were dead,” she said.

“What happened?” Danny managed.

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Peter said, “But you might want to look in a mirror.”

“What?”

Peter and Jazz hoisted Danny up so he could see his reflection on the shiny glass screen of a large monitor on the wall. Oh shit. His hair had turned a stark white and his once blue eyes were glowing the same radioactive green that had filled the tunnel before he had lost consciousness. What the fuck? He thought, his panic rising exponentially as he leaned on the monitor with one hand to get a better look at himself. Suddenly, he was falling forward and his face smacked into the glass.

“Danny!” Jazz called.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, reaching out to steady his son.

“I think s–”

His train of thought was completely derailed by the sight of his forearm, or lack thereof. He wiggled his fingers and clinched his fist. He could still feel his hand. Is my arm…invisible? He thought.

“Danny,” Peter said gently, “I think your panicking is making things worse. Look right at me,” he paused as he oriented Danny’s shoulders so they were facing each other, “And a take a deep, slow breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth,” he paused to demonstrate the technique and waited for Danny to copy him, “Good, one more time,” he paused for Danny’s breath, “Remember when you were 5 and Aunt May asked you to help her pick a puppy?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Danny said, torquing his eyebrows in confusion.

“There were so many,” Peter continued, “How did you know you picked the right one?”

“Donut was the only one who came up to give both of us kisses,” Danny said, “And he fell asleep in my lap. I thought he seemed like a good dog for Aunt May.”

As Danny thought back to that childhood memory he felt a strange tingling all over his body, like everything was shifting ever so slightly. He looked down and he could see his arm again. He snapped his head up to look back into the glass monitor, where his reflection showed his natural black hair and blue eyes.

“I’m back to normal!” he said, “How did you know that would work, Dad?”

“I freaked out really hard when I first got my powers. I ended up stuck to a wall with no idea how to get down. It wasn’t until I took a second to calm down that I was able to unstick myself. I figured it might be something similar with whatever that was,” Peter said.

“Do you think that’ll happen again?” Danny asked.

“Probably,” Peter admitted, “But for now I think we’ve all had enough excitement and we should head home. I’ll bring you kids back here later if you want,” he paused and looked directly at Danny, “With thorough supervision, of course.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Danny held his head in his hands, quite literally. He had finally mastered the trick where he could stretch an invisible bit of his body from his neck to the base of his head so it looked like his head was no longer attached. His two years of training had really paid off. Peter and Wade, and even Jazz, had helped him master his powers but he had been cooking this one up in secret for the express purpose of ghostly shenanigans. Jazz was away at college and Peter was still out for the day. Which means my first victim is –

“Hey, Danny,” Wade’s voice came around the corner as he approached the living room, “Did you eat the last pudding cup?”

“Maybe.”

“Bruh! I totally called dibs on that o–” Wade paused, taking in the scene before him, “Danny, what the fuck happened to your head?! Ugh! Peter’s gonna kill me!” he added.

Danny stuck out his tongue.

“I’m fine, just a little,” here he paused to toss his head into the air, “Lightheaded!”

“You little shit, that was beautiful!” Wade said, pulling a small throwing knife seemingly out of nowhere and chucking it at Danny.

“Dad, what the hell?”

“I’m not ‘Dad,’ I’m Deadpool! I’m here to eat pudding and throw knives,” he paused, lowering his voice, “And I’m all out of pudding.”

He threw a barrage of knives at Danny, who nimbly dodged the projectiles and lobbed a pillow from the couch right at Wade’s face. Each knife lodged itself into a different part of the couch as Danny fired off multiple blasts of ghost fire.

“Hey, Siri, play the Ghost Busters theme. I’m going hunting,” Wade said, brandishing the pillow and another knife at Danny.

Just then, they heard the front door open.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” came Peter’s voice, “There was a thing I had to take care of on the way home –”

He froze at the sight of his husband and son sparring in the living room, his handful of groceries seemingly forgotten.

“Danny started it!” Wade said quickly.

“Deadpool, you fucking snitch!” Danny called, pointing an accusatory finger at Wade.

“Language!” Peter said.

“Yeah, Danny, watch your fucking language,” Wade said, giggling under his breath.

“Wade!”

“What?”

Peter sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a circular motion.

“All right,” he said quietly to himself, “So the new couches need to be stain-proof, knife-proof, and fire-proof. You two are in charge of putting the groceries away.”

“Did you get more pudding cups?” Wade asked hopefully.

Peter looked him dead in the eyes as he extracted two packages of pudding cups from one of the bags and tucked them under his arm.

“No,” he said, “Now go put this stuff away and clean up this mess,” he added, gesturing toward the living room.

He turned and headed, pudding still in tow, to his study.

Wade wiped away a single tear as the pudding vanished from sight.

“Oof,” said Danny.