#Green lantern (wearing yellow): this feels wrong.

[lovelylonelymoonlight]

Bruce is seventeen years old. Bruce knows this-he can feel it in his bones. Bruce also knows that he isn’t supposed to be seventeen. That’s his first clue. The way the number settles in his mind is wrong, distinctly.

His second and more damning clue is Oli standing in his early 40s right in front of him.

The third clue is an older Zatanna starring at him with wide eyes.

God he fucking hates magic.

There are others standing around him, all wearing varing shades of garish colors; blues, reds, and yellows so bright they hurt his eyes. He also notes the item in his hands, the one he pulled off his head as soon as he’d woken up, appears to be the helm to the combat suit he’s been designing. Before he can begin to assess just how bad it is that these people have seen his face, someone speaks up and all of Bruce’s attention snaps to them.

It's the Green Lantern.

“Oh my god, Spooky’s a fetus.”

Okay not the Green Lantern, that one retired when Bruce was a kid, and this one has different features, but a Green Lantern. Bruce has been training his emotions since he was 13, but given the situation he prides himself on not asking the guy for an autograph. Khoa would definitely point out his micro-expressions of joy, he can practically hear him. He shoves his shoulders back up, reminding his body that it doesn’t matter who’s around, Bruce can never relax. A quick lecture on his failure of his previous scan before he does another. A man in blue with an s on his chest, Oliver dressed in green, the Black Canary and how he missed the fact that both the Green Lantern and Black Canary were in the same room as him is a tragedy, another man with green skin which he’ll worry about later, a woman in what looks like a one-piece swimsuit and tall boots, and Zatanna. There also is a window which seem to lead out to space.

Alright, might be his weirdest day ever, but no matter how weird it won’t be his worst. Never the worst.

All his training is for naught, because it takes him until right that second to put all the pieces together. Oliver and Zatanna are older, and there are new fully fledged heroes using their mantels as though they were their own. However, he’s been given this information, which means they aren’t hiding it. It doesn’t matter if he knows it or not. It leaves two options and he doubts that Zatanna would mess with his head like that without giving him the option. Plus, he curls his hand into a fist, his body feels off. Which really just leaves the one thing.

“My mind and body have been reverted to what they were when I was 17.”

“Well,” Zatanna says after a pause had taken over the room, “that makes my job way easier.”

“How did you know you were even in the future? That seems like a stretch.” The man in blue says, almost like he’s joking. Bruce can’t tell if it’s at his expense or not.

“The position of the stars.”

“Wait, really?”

“No dumbass,Oli’s like 40 years older than he’s supposed to be.” The man blinks and what looks like a soft smile appears. He must’ve been joking with Bruce then. Maybe.

“40!”

This is when the woman in the swimsuit interupts, she’s the only one who seems focused on the problem at hand. She doesn’t seem surprised that he was able to recongize Oliver, only noting that he knows there is someone he can trust in the situation. Bruce has no reason to trust Oli, tells her as such and ignores the exaggerated hurt sound he makes.

“We need you to trust that we have your best interest at heart, and that any information we tell you is true and any we don’t tell you is for good reason. From experience, I know it takes many years fighting by your side in battle for that trust to be established.”

She’s right. He can’t afford to mess up any plans his future self has, and that means he has to trust that these people do know him.

He thinks for a moment and decides.

“Black Canary and the Green Lantern. I’ll listen to them.”

The room erupts into chaos.

[sinnerxroulette]

Mobile Friendly OC muses Page, Under read More due to Length:

Carl:

Basic Turle/tortoise demon. He/him. Bisexual. 40s-50s when he died. Medium Height.

His sin is Greed and he was murdered during an anonymous robbery attempt. His greediness left him in the wrong place at the wrong time where someone thought the easy going surfer guy would be a good target. He tried getting away but in the effort he slipped on some discarded orange/citrus produce and landed right into it. Being deathly allergic, he went into anaphylactic shock. Due to this and his injuries, he died. He now forever smells of the citrus that killed him, it can change day to day but usually he smells of oranges.

Vox’s assistant. Loves the job and he gives no fucks. He likes being barefoot whenever he can and only wears sandals when he has to wear shoes.

[More details to follow]

Cherub.

Omnisexual with a high preference for Men. He/they pronouns. Died in his 20s in the 00s.

Lice Sinner. 4'11".

Failed Gold Digger from Miami. Died during his attempts to score the “Big Fish”. He is now a miserable and catty bitch who will steal your man and then dump his ass two weeks later out of boredom. And all the while he’ll tell you he was doing you a favor “Since a good guy wouldn’t leave for me anyway!”. Ladies as well, he’ll sweep a woman off her feet regardless of her relationship status. lol

He is broken and miserable and would never admit it. He likes those who are goofy and have bombastic personalities though.

He works at Taco Hell as a day job and has a side gig as an Angel Dust Impersonator for cheap bargain bin porn. He also does other cosplaying but Angel Dust makes 95% of his job requests. His videos would be found in the $4.99 bin near the cash register.

It’s a living/Death.

His Off Work Look is 80’s Miami Bimbo. High preference for tanks/crop tops due to most shirts feeling uncomfortable to him with the four arms. Plus sex appeal, lol.

Lucio

Fire fly sinner.  5′11″. Pansexual. Can fly and light his tail up like a bright lamp, as well as make simple yellow energy barriers as a defense. (Think Green Lantern-esque).

An amoral paparazzi in life, his form of “journalism” was all about exposing the “dirty business” of the rich, famous, controversial, or the just the plain unlucky. He was directly and indirectly responsible for ruining people’s lives with this, to the point of murders and suicides and everything in between, and held no remorse at all. He had a job to “bring things to light” and he was going to do it!

Died New Years of 1999-2000 via Fireworks. (Imagine of that what you will).

Lower minion of Alastor, he does any errand and management jobs assigned to him. He lost an eye in the events that led him to making a deal with the Radio Demon.

He has a side hobby/interest in photography and knows how to be a decent bartender. Good listening skills and quick with a pearl of wisdom or joke to help the mood. Quietly mature and gentle in personality, he’s a solid back up.

Niko

Nikolas - Niko for short. A Zebra Spider.

He/Him. Pansexual. As tall as Striker/other “tall” imps.

Murdered in retaliation for a murder he committed in the 90s; from New York. In his late 20s.

Multicultural, but mainly Greek-Italian.

No magic powers but he has high strength and durability.

 Exceptional marksmanship due to the alignment of his multiple eyes and stone steady hands.

Hit man for hire. Weapons of choice are handguns or a sniper rifle. When that doesn’t work, he’ll use poisons to get the job done.

[faithful-grigori]

“#With a limit of six it'd be a good cast size too, #I can definitely see cap having to prod them away from playing to their strengths because otherwise that would be self defeating, #Superman I'd have to give wisdom because like. He's got everything else, #I'd give batman... Power. that'd probably be the trickiest to master in a short time?, #I'd give flash super strength I think to balance it out. Maybe invulnerability?, #Wonder woman can work with anything. Queen. She'd probably take super speed, #Just leaves stamina and the one flash doesn't have. Depends who the final members are I guess., #Who do you think they should be?#Green lantern (wearing yellow): this feels wrong., #Green arrow (wearing purple): I think I need a new name., #Cap: well technically you're all my lieutenants now so you can just go by colours if you want lol, #Batman: you will not call me lieutenant blue I am not five. We are not power rangers., #Gl: WELL I'M NOT GOING BY YELLOW LANTERN”

Okay so there's this idea for a fic I've been thinking of.

The jl are combating something that can only be touched with magic, jl dark is unresponsive (they got stuck in another dimension again), and cap - their only other magic user - is too injured.

But when they start stressing cap just slams a sheaf of papers of the table like 'pick between yourselves what powers you want, it's one each. Ig I'll sponsor you for today'.

Everyone: what?

Cap, spreading the papers to show each has a letter... Spelling out a magic word?: I'm serious. Do you want a cool new power? Consequence free? For as long as you need?

Batman:... Are you saying... You can... Give out powers?

Cap: my powers, yes. Flash, put Mercury back. That's pointless.

It'd be a great chance to have him explain his powers as a sort of reveal, including why he doesn't do it (it divides his power equally and thus severely weakens him). Also it would be very funny, I think, to see the jl in colour coded marvel suits being basically patroned by Billy. Batman has a blindingly white cowl. Flash has a cape. There's so much 'wait this chill childlike guy from some random city is actually insanely powerful' potential.

But also:

Batman, slowly pinwheeling through the air: how do I steer.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E3; Chapter Three, Holly, Jolly - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘠/𝘯, 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘈 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳.

WARNINGS: Mentions of [lots of] blood, use of the 'f' word literally ONCE, uhh, I think that's it?

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

El sits on the floor of Mike's basement, back to the couch. Candy wrappers and crumbs were scattered around a finished puzzle of a beautiful green forest. The strange plastic ship, floating in the air in front of her. It suddenly drops to the ground as her attention is brought to the Supercomm on the couch. She picks up the device and clicks it on, bored with the static that comes from the other end, she soon abandons the device and stands up.

She walks up the steps, eager to explore the house more. When she reaches the top of the steps, she cautiously peeks around the corner. When she decides no one is home and the coast is clear, she continues to explore the house.

With the house to herself, she had more time to linger, and appreciate and explore. It was fascinating to her, and yet it made her sad. Could she have had a life like this? She didn't know what to think when she admired every object, every picture on the wall. There was one in particular that caught her eye.

It was a small photograph, but you could tell it was important. It was another picture of Mike and his friends. Only, they were younger. They were playing and splashing around in the water, a lake it looked like, surrounded by beautiful green trees. Each of them had an arm wrapped around each other forming a line, and their pants were rolled up to their knees.

The young boy on the very left had messy black hair, who El immediately recognized as Mike. He was smiling brightly at her from the picture. A young Lucas to his right, who wore a rather proud grin. Dustin was looking at the two, more specifically Lucas; he had been laughing when the photo was taken.

Will, she believed his name was, had one scrawny arm draped loosely around Dustin, however, he had his full attention on a very cheery looking Y/n who stood proudly showing off a very small frog to the camera. He had daisies on his head, tangled in his hair, and a gleaming smile showed off a missing tooth. He was holding the frog so delicately.

But it wasn't Y/n, or even Mike that caught her eye. It was the way Will was looking at Y/n. His eyes held a certain fondness and appreciation, his smile warm and genuine. El tilted her head ever so slightly, thinking. Something deep inside her was gnawing at her, a feeling that was foreign to her. Shaking her head, she moved on to the rest of the living room.

She went back to the funny chair Mike had shown her and took a seat. She reached over and pulled on the lever, sending her back and forth as it kicked her feet out. She looked around curiously as the chair rocked her back and forth.

El noticed the weird device on the table beside her and picked it up. It was a strange curved thing attached by a curly wire. It had many buttons, every one of them had a number on them. It let out a strange noise, barely audible from the top. She brought it up to her ear to listen to the endless monotone hum. Not knowing what else to do she mimicked the tone, just for fun before putting it back.

She stood up from the chair and sat herself down on her knees in front of the TV. Curious, she ran her fingers down the side until she felt the button and pressed it. A brief crackle of static rang out and as soon as it came on it was replaced with the voice of an older man, the screen lit up in front of her.

"...was occupying a large part of Lebanon. Today, Syria has become a home for-"

Click.

El pressed another button.

The moving picture on the screen changed, where many bright flashes of color dance across the screen. A fake man with yellow hair held a sword as he exclaimed.

"I have the power!"

Click.

"...gift that will last forever. From the Harmony Treasures' collection-"

Click.

A beautiful melody came from the TV set and El's eyes widened in surprise.

Click.

"On the beach and in the sun"

El froze. She recognized the rolling tin can that appeared on the TV. Her breathing began to quicken as she fought the memories back.

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

The all too familiar humming and beeping of the machines echoed off of the cold, isolating walls. Eleven sat at the same table, with the same camera facing the same window with the same adults who watch her and study her. Nothing was new, and she feared nothing ever would be. All she wants is to go this over with. Wanting to get the damn wires off of her head.

Yet, she sat still, compliant, unmoving. Never taking her eyes off of Papa as she watched him hand the clipboard to one of the men and give her a nod of his head. She turned her head and attention to the small Coke drink. Her eyes bore into the empty can and she concentrated.

Her head shook ever so slightly as she focused, straining. It was difficult, but she was able to do it. The can caved into itself with a loud 'crack' and it wasn't until the monitors stopped did she realize how loud they had been. She looked back to Papa, looking for his approval.

He stood unmoving, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. She felt her nose run damp, a warm liquid oozed from her nose. She blinked, confused and slowly brought her hand up to her upper lip, realizing she was bleeding. She looked to Papa, expectantly. He only smiled a cold empty grin.

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

"Coke is it! Coke is it!"

El quickly pushed the first button, shutting the TV off. Breathing heavily, she stood up and made her way to the basement.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

My back was beginning to hurt from hunching over for so long, but nevertheless, I continued looking. Lucas needs ammo for his wrist rocket, so naturally, the four of us were currently scouring the schoolyard for rocks.

"How about this one?" Mike asks, walking up to Dustin.

Dustin examines the rock Mike handed to him.

"Too big for the sling." He shrugs, tossing the rock to the grass. "So, do you think Eleven was born with her powers, like the X-Men, or do you think she acquired them, like... like Green Lantern?"

"She's not a superhero. She's a weirdo." Lucas says as he searches for that.

"You don't know that," I mumble, Lucas, however, doesn't hear me.

"Why does that matter? The X-Men are weirdos." Mike adds.

Lucas turns to Mike, agitated. "If you love her so much, why don't you marry her?"

I roll my eyes, and straighten up, stretching out my back.

"What are you talking about?" Mike sighs.

"Mike, seriously?"

"What?"

"You look at her all, like... 'Hi, El! El! El! El! I love you so much!'" Lucas teases, grabbing Mike in for a hug before getting down on one knee. "'Would you marry me?' I'm telling you, man, you're just as bad as Will!" He stood back up when he said the last-

'Wait...What?'

"What?" I asked, completely thrown off.

The boys freeze, Lucas especially. Lucas excluded, the boys all look at me with awkward smiles on their faces. Dustin chuckles and gives a still frozen Lucas a few pats on the arm.

"Good job, man. Real smooth."

"Guys, what is going on?" I asked exasperated, crossing my arms.

"Shit," Lucas whispers, closing his eyes.

"Lucas..."

Mike wears a triumphant grin on his face and looks expectantly at Lucas.

"Yeah, Lucas. Tell him."

Lucas sighs, and stiffly turns around, his change of attitude dramatic. He looks around once or twice before growing stern with me.

"You, and Will?" He suggests.

"What about us? What does that have to do with- Oh come on... You can't be serious. He does not like me."

"Literally everyone knows he is totally in love with you." He scoffs.

I scoff in return. "Love? Don't you think you're being a little dramatic? Not to mention, ridiculous?"

"Am I wrong?" He turns to the boys, who hesitantly shrug.

He turns back to me, a look screaming 'There you have it.'

"That doesn't prove anything! We're best friends! So what if we're close?"

He laughs. "Yeah, just as close as Nancy and Steve! And you're no better. You just haven't realized it yet."

"W-What? W-what ar- No!" My words are caught in my throat and I felt my cheeks begin to burn.

'No, I don't!'

It takes moments for me to recover. "Okay, let's say you're right. Let's say he does love me. How can you know for sure, huh? It's not like he told you!"

"Uhh, yeah! Might as well have. He didn't deny it!"

My heart stops, and I feel butterflies erupt in my stomach.

'Will? And me?'

"Look what we have here!"

'Oh, God. Not now.'

I roll my eyes and before I can stop myself I speak. "What do you want, Troll?"

My eyes widen at my sudden boldness but I remain confident. I stare down the two boys who have been bullying us for as long as we've attended this school.

"You better watch your mouth, freak-"

"Back off!" Dustin yells, cutting him off.

Troy looks over to Dustin, looking prepared to throw more insults at my brother but something changes his mind and he cools off. A smug smile tugs at his lips.

"Or what?" Troy spits.

Dustin falls silent, and Troy continues.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. What are you losers doing back here anyway?"

"Probably looking for their missing friend." Troy's goon laughs.

Anger begins to take over and my blood starts to boil.

"That's not funny. It's serious. He's in danger." Dustin immediately cuts in.

"I hate to break it to you, Toothless, but he's not in danger. He's dead. That's what my dad says."

'Where's that damn rock?'

"He said he was probably killed by some other queer."

I feel a lurch in my chest, and I can practically feel my vision going red.

"Come on. Just ignore them." Mike soothes, not only to me but to Dustin and Lucas as well.

He's right. I need to get out of here. I storm off, ready to shove him in the shoulder as I pass but suddenly I feel something catch my foot and I fall to the ground. A sudden wave of searing pain explodes on my chin when I hit the ground.

Dazed and confused, I push myself up enough to see a large, rather bloody rock just inches from my face.

I groan, rolling over on my back, I hear laughing and frantic footsteps.

"Y/n!" Dustin and Mike run over to me, Lucas storms up to Troy.

Dustin and Mike each grab an arm and help me sit up. I hesitantly bring a hand up to my chin and I hiss in pain. I look at my fingers and they are absolutely covered in blood.

'Holy crap.'

I groan and look to Lucas worried. He stands firm and tall, right up in Troy's face.

"Leave us. The fuck. Alone." He says through clenched teeth.

My eyes triple in size, surprised by Lucas's actions.

Troy and his friend laugh and walk away. Repeating Lucas in a mocking voice.

"You okay Y/n?" He reaches out his hand.

I gladly take it. However, I get a little lightheaded as I stand. "Shit, that's a lot of blood."

I look down and I see splots of blood already sprinkling my shirt.

'Great. This will be easy to explain to mom.'

"You still have that first aid kit?"

I close my eyes, sighing.

"Crap. No. I left it at Mike's." I sigh.

"We better get you to the nurse's office then."

"No, I-I'm fine." I sigh, wincing at the pain.

"Are you sure? You're bleeding, like a lot." Mike says.

"Yeah, I'm good. As long as I stop the bleeding, I'll be fine.. My body has always been able to heal quicker than most, anyways."

"He's right. I've seen it."

I offer a small smile. "Well, I at least better go get a tissue or something. I'll be right back." I say.

The boys nod, and I head off to the bathroom. My mind wanders back to what Lucas was telling me earlier, and the weird feeling in my stomach returns...

[star-lemonade]

The Festival (1/3)

A.C.E Junhee x Reader

Cw: fluff, cross dressing

Rating: T (Series R)

Word count: 3.2 k

Junhee was one of the most attractive people you knew. He was good looking, yes, but that was not the main source of his attractiveness. Somehow he always left you with the impression that he cared about people and put others before himself. You never told anyone but it would be nice to have someone care about you. Taking care of him for a change would be nice too. He seemed like he could use someone being there for him. You sometimes spoke in the company kitchen, but you never met outside of work. Maybe, one day, you would ask him out. Maybe.

That day your business trip took you out to a city you had not been to before. It was only a few hours away by car but you never had a reason to come here. The conference would last for three days, Wednesday to Friday. On the first evening there were some unofficial meetings, but soon the parties moved from the hotel to the city. A historical festival was taking place in the city center. The crowd was a mixture of people wearing modern clothing and hanboks. A lot of the vendors were also dressed in historical clothing. The streets were illuminated by lamps that looked like lanterns with open fire at first glance. The moving orange and yellow bands gave the illusion of flames. Foods from the different booths filled the streets with mouthwatering smells.

You noticed that you had lost the rest of the conference people while exploring the festival. Your stomach began to rumble. It was time to eat something. The selection was a bit overwhelming so you entered the nearest food stand that had some tables. Even here the historical feel was present. The low tables stood on elevated platforms with the guests sitting on cushions on the platforms. You sat down at the only free table. The waitress wore a beautiful hanbok, but the stress of working at a festival was written in the lines of her young face.

You ordered something to drink and to eat. Your drink arrived fast and you were thankful for it. You were starving but the drink filled your stomach at least temporarily.

Your eyes followed that waitress as she served food to another table. Two women in hanboks sat there. They looked like they were related, maybe they were sisters? One wore blue, the other green.

When the waitress approached them, you could see the face of the sister in green in front view. She looked familiar, but you did not know from where you knew her. You looked away so as to not get caught staring. Your food came and the mystery woman was forgotten. Your basic needs had to be satisfied. It tasted better than it probably was. Junhee. Junhee! That was who the woman looked like. The thought came so suddenly you almost dropped your spoon. He had sisters, that much you knew but did they live here? It’s probably a coincidence.

You finished your meal and decided to move on. The air in the plastic tent was too thick and hot to have a clear thought.

You left the restaurant wondering if it was just your brain seeing Junhee everywhere. Yes that must be it. Lately he had been on your mind a lot. He was a bit clumsy, but there was something charming about that too. Oh man, I have a crush on Junhee, don’t I?

You heard your name from behind you. The woman in the green stood behind you.

“Can we talk?”

Without saying a word you walked away from the crowds of the festival. You felt the tension of the other person and did not dare to speak up. Around a corner a dark patch came into view. The banks of the river were emptier than the streets with its booths. You stopped at one of the benches overlooking the river.

“I guess I should explain.”

Junhee‘s voice was softer than usual. You were sure now that it was him(?).

“You don’t have to. It’s none of my business.”

Junhee seemed to think otherwise. He(?) pressed his(?) lips into a thin line, but did not say anything. Whatever question came to your mind, seemed inappropriate to ask, but the silence began to weigh you.

“That’s a nice hanbok. It looks good on you.”

It was true and Junhee smiled a little.

“Thank you.”

He(?) looked down at the gravel path that spanned the river bank down to the small pedestrian bridge.

“I like being a man.”

He paused, thinking. You did not dare to say anything. This was a very private moment and even sitting on this bench, so close to Junhee felt almost too intimate. He did not have to tell you anything. Junhee nodded more to himself.

“But going out like this. It feels good.”

You touched his arm.

“You really don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I should.”

He insisted.

“Why? If it makes you uncomfortable? Don’t worry I will not tell anyone.”

“Because ..”

He looked away. The river gurgled and a couple strolled by, talking about something. Junhee stood up. His fist clutching the fabric of the hanbok.

“Let’s meet again tomorrow.”

You simply nodded and Junhee took off into the night.

You returned to the hotel tired and worried. The way Junhee had fled earlier did not leave your mind. You typed “Are you okay?” into your phone. I don’t want to bother him. The cursor whipped the message off the screen.

After a restless night your phone woke you up at 6:30 am the next morning. You had rolled from one side to the other but the unfamiliar bed had made it hard to sleep. Now It was time to meet some old business men. The shower helped to wake you up properly and the breakfast buffet in the hotel’s dining room looked better than expected. You filled your plate with everything that appealed to you in that moment and sat down at an empty table for two. None of the other conference goers were to be seen, so you could enjoy your meal. Your phone lay screen down on the table. How is Junhee doing? You picked it up and looked at the messaging app. Would it be good to text him?

“I hope I didn’t offend you yesterday. I’m sorry, if I did.”

It wasn’t the best thing one could say but needed to say it. You could not stand the thought of Junhee being hurt.

“I hope you are okay.”

Of course he did not reply right away. It was still early morning and he was probably sleeping. The next time you had a chance to look at your phone was during the “coffee and networking” break at 9:30 am.

“You didn’t. I’m okay. Let’s meet today. I have time around noon.”

It was not exactly the right thing to do but you excused yourself after the last talk of the morning session and left. The dinner would be more important, it would be okay if you missed the lunch buffet.

Junhee looked fantastic. He wore a brown leather jacket and his dark hair looked freshly cut. You were not sure which version of him looked more attractive, the one with the fake lashes or the one with the leather jacket.

The restaurant was empty. It was a bit too early for most people to eat. You basically had the place to yourselves. You chewed on your lip.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable yesterday.”

It was literally the last thing you expected to hear. His shoulders were slumped. It made him look smaller than he actually was.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable!”

Maybe it came out a bit too fast because Junhee did not look convinced. You wanted to say how much you liked him but how would that look? He may take that as just a thing you said to get out of this situation or worse. What if he thought you only said you liked him, now that you had seen him cross dressing. Was it okay that you had liked it so much?

“Really, it’s all good. It is all good between us right?”

Your tone got more uncertain towards the end. You did not have that much of a relationship with him yet, but you could not stand the thought of him avoiding you.

“You don’t find that weird?” He licked his lips. “That I like to wear women’s clothes?”

His shoulders were tense. What you were about to say next would determine how this thing would go.

“No. You are an amazing person no matter what you decide to wear.”

A blush crept onto his face.

A waitress appeared. You had completely forgotten that this was a restaurant. It had felt like it was only you and him.

When the waitress left with your order, Junhee leaned towards you.

“Can I ask you something?”

Something in his tone made you perk up. Usually this question preceded a not so usual question.

“Only if I can ask you something too.”

He nodded.

“Do you… hm .. is it possible that you.. like me?”

Your mind went blank. He looked at you from the other side of the table. The little beauty mark on his cheek was something that was easy to look at. Did he mean like as in like like? Your next answer could be game changing, for better or for worse.

“Yes, I like you a lot.”

Now you could just cross your fingers and hope that being honest was the right course of action. You did not want to look at him in fear that he would reject you.

The waitress was back with your drinks and it gave both of you a bit of time. Junhee’s whole face was red and it was cute.

“What question did you wanted to ask me?”

So he was just not going to address this? Okay. Okay. You felt your face burn but also did not have the courage to ask him how he felt about you.

“Did your ex know about you cross dressing? Does anyone know?”

It clearly was not the question he had expected, you could tell by the pause that followed. He looked at his drink.

“My ex knew but she didn’t like it much. She didn’t give me a hard time because either. It just wasn’t something we talked about much. My sisters know of course. My parents were a bit worried in the beginning, they are a little old fashioned.”

You nodded. Junhee had broken up with his then girlfriend a few months ago, as far as you had heard. You were not sure why you had asked that question.

“Do you want to go to the festival tonight with me? Like a girls night out?”

It kind of slipped your lips and you prayed he would not take it the wrong way. His brows shot up and looked down at his drink.

“Yes, I would love that.”

A breath you did not know you were holding released.

Your food came and the conversation shifted. You talk about the conference that you had not seen much of yet. There still hung this question between you. You had said you liked him but he had not said anything to address your confession.

He decided to accompany you back to the hotel and you secretly loved that. You walk side by side. The last few days had been a bit cold, but today the sun gave its best to make it seem like it was still summer. Your hands brushed and Junhee caught your hand. He slid his fingers between yours and just like that you held hands. You could not stop a big, stupid smile from break on your face. The streets were not familiar but Junhee seemed to know where you were going.

“This is not your home town, is it?”

“No but my sister lives here. I come to visit often.”

It felt nice to walk with him like this. Your steps had synchronized without you thinking about it. The hotel was not far now, you began to recognize the houses.

“You probably look very good in a dress.”

You could not look at him and your face burnt. Hopefully he did not take it the wrong way.

“You like it?”

The tone was neutral and you could not tell if he approved or not.

“Yes but you look good either way.”

Junhee stopped and you looked at him. A moment later you found yourself in a tight hug, pressed against Junhee’s upper body. You could feel his breath on your neck and tried to protect what little dignity you had left by not melting into his arms. It failed.

“Thank you.”

The words tickled your skin and Junhee pressed a kiss to your cheek as he pulled back. Your brain must have short circuited being in your crushes arms and your face being so close to his. You kissed him. It was more a short peck, really. You did not have time to apologize for your forwardness. Junhee was a good kisser. The way his lips moved against yours made your heart flutter. It ended too soon.

“I have to go.”

Your tone said ‘and I don’t want to’. Junhee nodded but his hands still held you close. How nice would it be to just stay like this?

Technically there would be a dinner with the conference people that evening but the temptation to just skip it altogether was very big. Spending more time with your maybe, soon boyfriend was more appealing than spending the evening listening to the old men. They would only repeat the same stories they told at the afternoon networking session and the morning session. You texted Junhee but he insisted you stayed at least for a bit. His argument of ‘he would take some time to get ready anyways’ seemed like a plot to make you work. Reluctantly you joined one of the tables. You knew some of the men on this table. They were that type that would leave and find a seat at another table soon. Exactly what you wanted. They just had to see you were there, so no one could complain. You doubted that any of them really cared but there was a chance your supervisor would hear about you not being at the dinner through the grapevine.

The dinner was a buffet and you were first in line for food. You did not even remember afterwards what you had, because Junhee texted you with two outfits and asked which one you liked more. One was a grey skirt with a black shirt and a white scarf, the other outfits was a dress. Both would look fantastic, you were sure of that but there just was something about the first outfit that made you send ‘I love the first one’.

After an hour a window of opportunity opened and you left for your room. You changed into something more casual and left the hotel. Junhee would be waiting at the river. A thought struck you. Did he use another name when he was cross dressing?

You arrived at the river and turned right like the evening before. Junhee sat on the same bench, waiting.

“Good evening.”

It was a bit stiff but Junhee smiled at your greeting anyways. You hugged and when he pulled back you used the chance to ask about his name.

“Junhee is also a woman’s name. So just continue to call me that.”

You strolled through the narrow streets arm in arm with Junhee. Even before today you had been comfortable talking to him but now all inhibitions had disappeared. You two giggled and smiled the whole way to the other side of town. Some older people gave you stern looks but it did not phase you. Junhee was in an extraordinarily good mood. You suspected that his secret had weighed heavier on him than he had let on.

Junhee suggested going to his favorite restaurant in town and you agreed.

The place was away from the festival but not too far away. The waiter showed you to a table in a corner.

“At day time you can see the garden, from here it’s really beautiful!”

‘Really beautiful’ was also the person opposite you. The long wig hid Junhee’s sharp jawline and made his face a bit softer. The dark blouse hid his muscular arms and the fake lashes made his eyes shine.

You felt awkward not eating anything so you ordered something small to eat along with the drinks. Junhee devoured his food and when he caught you staring, an embarrassed smile appeared on his face.

“I didn’t have dinner yet.”

The light blush on his face was very cute and you found yourself smiling like an idiot.

Junhee finished the food and got ready for a toast. You raised your glass too and Junhee said: “To us!”

“To us!”

It was not your first glass so it seemed a bit silly but you smiled brightly anyways. The restaurant was full and the noise made it harder to hear. You moved your chair next to Junhee. In your head that had seemed very casual but in reality it was intimate. You were sitting in a corner now with the wall on one side and gorgeous Junhee on the other. The fake lashes really were the worst. Your heart fluttered and you looked away, face bruning.

Junhee took your hand and interlaced your fingers. The thin rings he wore looked good on him.

“Junhee?” You chewed on your lip. It seemed stupid to ask but you really did not want to there to be any misunderstandings.

“Hmm?”

“Is this a date?”

You met his eyes and he smiled, but it was paired with a nervous laugh.

“Would that be bad?”

Junhee furrowed his brows. You panicked thinking he may take that as you not wanting it to be a date.

“Oh. No! no. I just.. wasn’t sure... “

Say something.

“You know.. We kissed and I thought..”

You stopped at the look on Junhee‘s face. You were so close, it would have been easy to lean in a bit more and press your lips against his lips. His hand tightened and his fingers pressed into the back of your hand.

“It is a date.”

The lipstick had the perfect color, You almost could not tell that Junhee was wearing lipstick. Now, so up close you could see the little imperfections in the outline of his lips. You remembered how they felt on your lip and swallowed, your throat suddenly dry.

“Not here.”

The words broke the trance you had been in and you leaned back. He was right, the small town people may not be very happy with two women kissing, and even less so if they happened to notice that Junhee did not exactly fit their definition of 'woman’.

You held Junhee’s hand until your drinks were empty. It was pretty late and you still had to attend the conference tomorrow. Even Though you wanted to spend more time with Junhee, you had to go. The waiter came and Junhee lifted his handbag to look for his purse.

“I’m buying. It’s okay.”

Junhee let the small black handbag sink and smiled.

Arm in arm you walked back to the hotel. The night air cleared your head a bit but the giddy happiness remained.

Thanks for reading :)) see you in the next part.

A/n: this one was kinda tricky. Korean doesn't really have pronouns and especially no 'he' or 'she'. That's the main reason it doesn't get discussed in this fic. In gendered languages like english however it matters how you address people. Please respect people's pronouns.

[strawberries-on-the-ground]

Mark Me Yours

I have been writing again!

Ship(s): Korrasami

AO3 Link

Almost everyone gets a circle on their wrist when they turn 21. When their soulmate touches it, it turns into their name. The avatar does not get a mark but it doesn't mean they don't have a soulmate.

After the pain Kuvira has caused Republic City, everybody needs a pick-me-up. Bolin comes up with the idea of a soulmate-finding party where Korra will touch people's wrists in hope of finding her soulmate. Asami hates it.

"Asami is an engineer and a businesswoman. She is very well equipped with being rational and objective. She knows there is no logical reason for the rage and fear she feels as she watches Korra touch people’s wrists."

(A short soulmate AU that takes place between Kuvira's defeat and Zhu Li and Varrick's wedding.)

“I think it is a great idea, Bolin!” Korra beams, “Especially since people like me again.”

Asami enters the room, “What’s a great idea?”

Mako looks unimpressed, “Bolin thinks we should throw a Korra-themed soulmate-finding party. For morale.”

“That’s a terrible idea!” Asami puts her hands on her hips, “That’s what self-absorbed royalty does! Besides, you really believe in the soulmate thing?”

“I’m the Avatar. Of course, I believe it.” Korra replies, “Also, it’s not going to be a ‘Korra-themed party’. It’s just going to be a normal soulmate-finding party where I also touch wrists.”

The plan is set in motion, and everybody seems to be on board. Everyone except Asami and Lin. They are standing under the red, green, yellow, and blue lanterns.

“This is stupid,” she says to Lin. Her arms are folded tightly on her chest. She has been frowning so hard that it almost gives her a headache.

“It is,” Lin answers, but she seems amused rather than annoyed, “I’m not sure if the reason why we think that is the same.”

Asami is not stupid; she can deduct what Lin meant. She thought she hid her crush on her best friend better, though. Asami only shows her emotions when it is convenient. She is an engineer and a businesswoman. She is very well equipped with being rational and objective. She knows there is no logical reason for the rage and fear she feels as she watches Korra touch people’s wrists. It is pure jealousy, which is why she does not have an answer when Korra catches up to her at the balcony overlooking the newly opened portal and asks, “Is something wrong?”

There is nothing more inconvenient that she can think of than jealousy, “Nothing.”

“Asami,” Korra says with a fierce tone.

“I just, I think it’s unfair that the world gets to pick our soulmate for us. So much of our lives are out of our control. Where we are born, our parents… I think it would be nice to become soulmates rather than having a pre-determined one.” she looks at Korra, who is wearing a dark blue dress she picked out with Jinora and Ikki because Asami avoided her. The golden hairpiece she gave her over three years ago catches Asami’s eye.

Korra’s bright blue eyes pierce through her soul, “You, of all people, should understand. You had so little control over your life.” Asami points out.

Korra takes a step closer to her, “I like my life. I get what you mean, though,” she leans on the balcony railing, her back is facing the view of the portal, “Still doesn’t explain what’s wrong with you today.”

I hate this, this party, and all of the people here trying to get with the Avatar without understanding the person.

What comes out of her mouth is, “I just don’t like soulmate parties. Can we drop this?”

“No, you are clearly in distress. I don’t want to just let it go.”

Asami wants to get mad, but Korra is looking at her with worry, “It’s okay, I should just go, I’ll be alright.”

As she takes a step, “Was it someone you didn’t like?” Korra says out of nowhere.

“What?” she asks.

“My mom and dad aren’t soulmates.” Korra says, nonchalantly, “My dad’s soulmate rejected him after what my uncle did, and my mom’s has passed away.”

“Oh,” Asami says, “I’m sorry?”

Korra laughs, “I’m not. Pretty sure I wouldn’t be here if they got with their soulmates.”

Asami unties the band covering her wrist to show Korra, “I don’t know who it is yet.”

Ask her to touch it. Ask her, ask her, ask her.

She does not know what to say, thankfully Korra takes charge of the conversation, “I like the idea of it, you know, having what Aang and Katara had, what Pema and Tenzin have. I guess I just want one thing in my life to be simple.”

I have to get out of here. I can’t do this.

Asami is not one to get scared. She is one to fight for what she wants. Korra seems to be the exception. She wraps her arms around herself, “I…I’m worried that, never mind,” words get buried in her throat.

Asami straightens up, “I really should get going, early morning tomorrow. I’m sorry for bumming you out.” She offers Korra a smile, and starts leaving without waiting for an answer. She feels like she might say something that will ruin her relationship with her best friend if she stays any longer.

“Asami, wait!” Korra grabs her by the wrist, and Asami feels it sting. She quickly turns around to see Korra, who is completely unaware, loosening her hold. She pulls her hand back.

Korra

Asami cannot take her eyes off the writing, “I was afraid you would find your soulmate, and I wouldn’t match up.”

When she looks up, Korra has come closer. She takes Asami’s hand slowly and carefully as if it was a delicate flower and as if the writing would evaporate with too much pressure.

Korra reads her own name on Asami’s wrist, “Oh, thank the spirits.”

Asami feels light again, and it’s time to get what she wants, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

[drachenonthemoon]

To you, from my heart

Read on AO3

Warnings: Fade to black sex scene at the end, discussions of male elves being able to get pregnant

Aragorn had been planning this for a long time.

First, he had spoken to his sister. She, like many elleths, had dreamt of her wedding since childhood. To Aragorn, a little lost and quite overwhelmed, she seemed like the perfect person to talk to. Arwen had laughed at him, but she had agreed to help.

“There are so many things to consider!” He exclaimed throwing himself down upon her bed in a most dramatic fashion rather reminiscent of Legolas. Arwen giggled, sitting beside the now curled up form of Aragorn.

“You need not take this so seriously, Estel. Our little leaf loves you, I do not think you need to stress.” Aragorn rolled over.

“I know,” he mumbled into the pillow, voice muffled. “I just want everything to be perfect.”

Second, he had spoken to his brothers. They had known Legolas for a very long time and had been there to aid their father in Legolas’ birth. Elladan had laughed, then grew rather overprotective of Aragorn, and even more so over Legolas. Elrohir had laughed, then teased and teased. Aragorn had wanted to sink into the dirt. When the twins finally pulled themselves together, however, they were surprisingly helpful.

“Of course he will want to marry you, Estel!” Elladan cried. “Legolas loves you.” He grinned. “You have not seen the way he looks at you when you are not watching. Our little leafling is smitten.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone love another so deeply before you two,” Elrohir murmured. “‘Dan is right. He will say yes no matter how you do it. You need not worry so much.”

“I just want everything to be perfect.” Aragorn said again, feeling frustrated. He did not need his siblings to tell him Legolas loved him. He knew that. Elladan frowned.

“I have just had an unpleasant thought!” He announced, spinning wildly to face his younger brothers. “Estel, you will be king one day-”

“I know that, why is that so unpleasant-”

“- You will need an heir! At least one.” Aragorn’s blood ran cold. He knew this of course but hadn’t given it any active thought.

“There are, of course, elons who can bear children.” Elrohir said, trying to raise his spirits. “It is possible Legolas is one of those.” Aragorn sighed.

Legolas did not come to Imladris as often as Aragorn would like. He knew all too well the duties the young prince had, and why they meant his lover could not come. The weight of the crown was oftentimes crushing the young elf and Aragorn wished he could take that pain away, take the burden of royal duty for a short time.

And now it was Aragorn’s own royal duty that stood in their way. He felt sick. Sick through the dinner with his family and Legolas, sick throughout their walk in the garden, sick as they stumbled into Aragorn’s rooms, hands roaming roughly and panting into open-mouthed kisses.

They had done this dance several times before, and it had always ended early. Aragorn sighed internally, certain he knew where this was going. It did not bother him, per se. No, the idea of falling into bed with his lover at a time said lover was uninterested was horrible. He only wished Legolas would tell him before they got that far. They didn’t need to have sex. And yet Legolas always seemed to push for it, before pulling away. It was slightly concerning if Aragorn was honest with himself. Was there something wrong with him? Had something happened to Legolas? Was his elf trying to push himself into something he didn’t want and ultimately unable to go through with it?

As expected, Legolas pulled away as Aragorn’s hands reached his belt, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Aragorn stepped back, allowing the blonde room to do whatever he needed.

“I’m not- I don’t-” he looked away. “Can we just sleep?” Aragorn smiled, gently pulling Legolas back into his embrace.

“Of course, melleth.” He pressed a firm kiss to the elf’s left temple. “Would you like a bath?” Legolas nodded against his chest.

Later, as they were lying in bed Aragron’s thoughts drifted back to before. His mind was still consumed with the reality of needing heirs, and what that would do for their relationship. And he was also thinking of Legolas’ behaviour, how he always pulled away. The elf was on his side, curled in Aragorn’s arms, lithe back to the man’s broad chest. He hadn’t fallen asleep yet, at least not that Aragorn was aware.

“‘Las?”

“Hmm?” Not asleep.

“Can we talk?” Aragorn could feel his lover’s heart pick up beneath his palm, resting on the elf’s chest.

“Of course. What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Well, it’s just…” Aragorn trailed off. He hadn’t thought this through entirely, perhaps this conversation should have been held in the morning, when thoughts were planned out and he wasn’t half asleep. Oh well. There was no going back now.

“I love you, ‘Las. I want you to remember that. And I want you to know that there is nothing that you could do that could change that.” Legolas hummed, pressing back against Aragorn slightly. He tightened his arms. “I told you at the very beginning of our relationship, that you could always say no and everything would stop, no matter what we were doing. If it was sex or just having a picnic. And that remains true. You can always say no to me, ‘Las, and I will always listen.” Legolas was stiff beneath him, and Aragorn silently cursed himself.

“However, I have become a bit… concerned lately. You can always say no. And the thing is, you always do. ‘Las, if you don’t want to have sex, that is fine. We don’t have to have sex. Ever. I do not care. But this constant starting and stopping has me worried. You always look so upset when you pull away.” He tugged Legolas’ tense body up tighter against him. “Tell me what’s going on, Legolas. I’m worried about you my love. I don’t want you to be pushing yourself into something you don’t want to do.”

Legolas sighed. And for a while that was the only sound out of either of them. Aragorn held Legolas against him and pressed soft kisses into his hair as he waited for Legolas to gather his thoughts.

“It is not that I don’t want to have sex with you,” Legolas said. “Well, that is part of it. I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet.” He shifted, rolling over onto his back just enough to see Aragorn’s face. His eyes were wide and vulnerable, his features anxious. Aragorn smiled and gently kissed his forehead.

“That is more than fine, my love.”

“I- … You are aware, yes, that there are male elves who have the ability to, ah…” he trailed off, biting his lip and turning to tuck his face away, towards Aragorn’s shoulder.

“Bear children?” Aragorn guessed, heart pounding. Legolas nodds, pale hair rustling against the pillows.

“I am one of them.” Aragorn feels such relief through his body that he can’t help but sigh. For the second time that night, Legolas stiffens against him.

“I apologize for not telling you earlier, I understand should you no longer wish to-” Aragorn cuts him off with a gentle kiss.

“All night I have worried, and now my fears have been assuaged. I will be king one day, my love, and I will need an heir. I feared such a thing would be the end of our relationship.” Aragorn kisses Legolas again, who returns it with passion. “But you, melleth, are wonderful and I shall worry no more.” Legolas sighs against Aragorn’s chest, cuddling closer.

Aragorn had been planning this for a long time. It was many many years after that conversation that he proposed. Spontaneously, dropping to his knees in Thranduil’s office. Years and years of planning the perfect proposal thrown out in an instant, overcome with love and excitement.

The wedding takes three months to plan. They chose to hold the ceremony in Eryn Gaelen, in the same clearing Legolas’ parents were married. One of the few places left untouched by the sickness, the glade almost glows with the magic of the forest.

They decorate with dark reds and blues and golds to represent Aragorn’s family and soft greens and yellows and silver to represent Legolas’.

Lanterns decorate the space around them, strings strung across the trees. Many tables are set up for family and friends.

The night before the wedding, Legolas separates to spend the night with his father, going over their people’s traditions. Aragorn does the same, allowing his brothers and sister to give him teas and brush his hair with a special comb, vibrating with excitement.

The next morning he awakes, and dresses. Dark trousers and black boots. A deep blue undertunic with an embroidered red vest over top. Arwen does his hair, weaves a golden ribbon into a braid then pins it across the back of his head. The next two hours are breakfast and hurried last-minute preparations, and then it’s time to begin.

Guests take their seats. Gandalf had offered to be their officiant, he stood at the altar waiting for them. Aragorn took his place at the end of the aisle and waited for his groom to join him. And when he does, Aragorn’s breath is taken away.

Legolas is wearing a silver tunic and dark green trousers underneath a pale green robe. His hair is intricately braided, with silk green and silver ribbons woven through. His silver circlet, so rarely worn, rests on his head.

Legolas smiles, shy and full of love. Aragorn can’t help but grin back, reaching to take the elf’s hand in his. Together they walk down the aisle, past family and friends, reaching the altar before Gandalf.

The wizard speaks, but Aragorn tunes him out, unable to take his eyes and attention off Legolas before him. They go through the customs of both Rivendel and Green Wood. A sip of wine from the goblet, ribbons wrapped around their hands. Gandalf begins the chant and the elves around them join in. Aragorn can’t feel the rush of magic like Legolas can, but he still feels the difference in the air.

“And now, I pronounce you lawfully wedded in the eyes of men and elves. You may kiss your groom.”

Aragorn cradles Legolas’ cheek and pulls him into a searing kiss. Legolas wrapps both arms around Aragorn’s neck and kisses back fiercely. Happy tears are dripping down the elf’s cheeks, and Aragorn can feel the burn in his own eyes.

The hours that follow and filled with music and laughter and dancing. Aragorn doesn’t think he’s even been so happy. Legolas never leaves his side, laughing and smiling with delight. Late in the night they pull away from the part, to go back to their room.

Legolas leads the way, giggling and beaming. Their hands never part. He tugs Aragorn to the bed and the man follows willingly, kissing and shedding clothes as they go. He props himself up over Legolas, stroking a hand down his milky skin. The elf gasps beneath him, and pulls him into a kiss.

“Estel, melleth-nin,” Legolas pants. “I’m ready.” Aragorn grins, and moves his hands beneath the elf’s trousers.

He’s been planning this for a long time. And tonight is finally the most perfect night of their life.

[pluckyredhead]

Jon gets upset when Damian keeps wearing other people's merch instead of his - accidentally realizes he has feelings.

Jon blinked when Damian opened the door to Wayne Manor. “You’re wearing a t-shirt.”

“In civilized society we say hello, corncob,” Damian said, turning and walking back into the manor.

Jon followed him. “You never wear t-shirts. I thought all you owned was black turtlenecks and kevlar vests.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s summer. I do feel heat, alien.”

“Half-alien,” Jon corrected. “Anyway, I don’t think a Green Lantern shirt is the right article of clothing to be sassing aliens in.”

Damian flopped onto the couch and picked up a controller. “It’s a t-shirt, Jon. Move on. You playing or what?”

Jon gave him another long, hard look, then sat down next to him. “Okay, Teen Lantern. It’s on!”

*

“The Flash, huh?” Jon asked when Damian met him for sparring. “Does Wally know you have that shirt?”

“Wally’s not as obsessed with my wardrobe as you are,” Damian said. It was still weird to see him in something as casual as a t-shirt, even if Jon was at least used to seeing Damian in red. Honestly, the Green Lantern shirt had looked better - it brought out the green in Damian’s eyes.

Whoa. That was a weird thing to notice.

“Whatever,” Jon said, cracking his knuckles. “I hope you’re ready for me to kick your ass.”

“In your dreams, corncob.”

*

“You bought a Booster Gold shirt?” Jon asked. “You don’t even like Booster Gold!”

“First of all, money means nothing to me, and how dare you imply otherwise,” Damian said. ���Second of all, no. Father and I were at Justice League headquarters and Gold was there handing them out. Father had him evicted.”

“But you kept the t-shirt?” Jon asked, crossing his arms. He felt unreasonably cranky.

Damian plucked at the hem. His skin looked even more tan than usual against the vibrant blue, and the sleeves were tight around his biceps. “What can I say? The man may be a charlatan, but he knows how to source cotton. This thing feels like swansdown.”

Jon hunched down further in his seat. “Hmmph.”

*

He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, really. They were just t-shirts, after all.

But Damian hated commercial branding, and he disdained most other superheroes. If he was going to walk around in someone else’s logo, Jon would have thought it would at least have been someone he respected.

They did make Superboy shirts, after all.

Jon glared up at his ceiling and finally sat up. This was ridiculous. If it was bothering him enough that he couldn’t sleep, he should just go talk to Damian and get past it.

It was late enough - or early enough - that Damian and his father would be back from patrol. Jon flew straight to the Manor and pushed up Damian’s window.

“I keep those swords in my room because I know how to use them,” Damian’s voice said out of the darkness.

“It’s me, D,” Jon said, keeping his voice low. The last thing he needed was Batman coming in to help his son fight off an intruder.

The darkness of the room didn’t keep Jon from seeing Damian’s eyes open. “Jon? What are you doing here?”

Jon flew over and perched on the side of Damian’s bed. “I need to talk to you.”

“At four in the morning? What the hell is wrong with you?” Damian asked, sitting up.

The blanket that had been covering him fell away, revealing a red and yellow S-shield. The dark blue sections on the side made it clear that this wasn’t a Superman shirt, and the lack of black meant it wasn’t Conner’s. No, this was Jon’s shirt - too big on Damian, slipping off one shoulder, faded after many washes.

Jon looked at Damian’s sleepy, cranky face above his own logo and felt his heart start racing.

Oh.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asked. “I think I just figured it out.”

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Warming Comforts

For @lemonfodrizzlecake

~~~~~~~~~~

The freezing water splashed against the sturdy boat, creating a beautiful song of the sea. It was pitch black outside, though only four in the afternoon, but with it being winter on the Arctic Ocean, sunlight was a rare treat. In fact, Ford had calculated that they would not see any sunshine until the last day of February unless they traveled south.

While it was true that he was more sensitive to the cold and always wore several thick layers to contain more body heat (why else would he wear a turtleneck and trenchcoat in the middle of summer), there was something awakening about the bitter icy atmosphere, how it made his every breath visible, how it pricked his cheeks and nose, turning them red, how if wind cursed them it would send shivers down his spine and ruffle his charcoal-gray fluff for hair.

Ford smiled and peered through his telescope again, the night sky being cloudless and perfect for star mapping. While he appreciated and missed the Northern Lights, it was difficult to study the representatives of Abraham’s descendants with so much commotion in the air, so the aged scientist took advantage of the quiet inky black sky and used his lantern to make a map of the stars, a fun activity that Ford was sure the children would want to see when he was finished. He pulled himself away from the telescope and began to make some marks on the dark-blue paper on the railing.

“BOO!”

“GAH!”

Ford jumped from fear at the sudden noise and misplaced his footing on the slippery dock. With one hand stupidly on his hip for a weapon due to reflexes, his body was too busy panicking to keep him from toppling off the boat and down into the sea. He heard that voice yell again - but this time in pure fear rather than trying to put fear into someone else - just before he splashed into the freezing water.

Every nerve in his body screamed in agony, lost of all his hands and face. His torso, protective with an undershirt, two sweaters that Mabel had made for him, and a thick blue hoodie, were still somewhat warm, but it wouldn’t be long until the water would seep through and freeze his chest and stomach, but right now his legs and arms were in quite a bit of pain. Ford wanted to gasp in shock, but he was quick to realize that would mean breathing in sea water, so he focused his pain into moving upward and soon he broke the surface and coughed as he wiped his face dry of beads of water behind his glasses.

“STANFORD! Stanford, I’m sorry, are you okay?!”

“Stanley, I’m fine.” Ford chuckled; he was initially extremely irritated but the way his twin was freaking out and was completely resentful for a small prank gone wrong made up for it. Really, he was just cold. No permanent harm done. “Just throw down the rope, will you please?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Stan sounded like he was calming down, but Ford wouldn’t be surprised if he was shaking as much as he was right now.

Stan, meanwhile, was scrambling for the rope and working to throw it down so his brother could climb back up. Trust him to only intent to make his brother jump and prove a point that his tunnel vision when working is really that bad, only to plunge the brainiac into the Arctic Ocean. He could still fix this; once Ford is safe he can change into dry clothes and sit by the wood-burning stove with a cup of coffee, the heating pad, and some blankets. Hey, at least it was a legitimate excuse not to push himself so hard.

The youngest of the two by fifteen minutes tossed down one half of the rope and held on tight, brazing himself for the sudden weight to cling on. “Here you go, Sixer.” A few seconds passed and no response came. No call, no tug on the rope, not even a splash to clue Stan in that his brother was even trying to grab the rope. “Ford, you okay?”

Well, no, he wasn’t okay, he was freezing cold, but he would be soon. Worried the nerd was way too cold to speak or move, Stan picked up the lantern and shined it down to see the ocean that surrounded them. His heart plunged into his stomach when he didn’t see Ford in the water. All that was visible to his eyes were some icebergs that decorated the sea. “Stanford! Talk to me!” Stan demanded.

Ford might be a jerk, but not this big of a jerk. Stan quickly shed his beanie and long coat (he needed something dry to wrap his brother in when they came back), then he tied the rope to the dock, letting it trail down into the sea, and he grabbed a flashlight from out of his coat. No sense in jumping into the ocean if he couldn’t see. All within five seconds of realizing his twin was nowhere to be seen, Stan dived into the ocean.

He ignored the way he nerves howled in agony and shined the flashlight every which way underwater to find Ford. He squinted at a dark shape and swam towards it, a little too far away to see, but then as the light shined on scaly skin Stan got a glimpse of what he was up against and it took everything not to waste his breath growling. Speaking breath, he was running out of it. He swam up to the surface, directly below his enemy to recharge his batteries to fight the best he could, then he dove again, this time more determined than ever to not break the surface again if his twin wasn’t doing so with him.

Ford’s neck and limbs were bound in the tentacles of a giant squid. Unless Stan was mistaken, this was the same giant squid that greeted them as dinner when they first began their journey. Didn’t this gross unwrapped sushi have anything better to do than stock them like a big crazy fangirl? Stan dove down as the monster hissed angrily at the intruder. Ford was still struggling, but he was slowing down and his eyes were shut.

Stan pulled out his pocket knife and slashed a tentacle and tried to free his brother. The squid squealed in pain and let Ford go, who was weak and limp from the lack of warmth and oxygen. Quickly delivering a left hook to the squid’s big eye, Stan wrapped one of Ford’s arms around his neck and swam upward as fast as he could.

The moment they broke the surface they both gasped and coughed furiously. Stan used all of his strength to hoist Ford towards the rope, who grasped it and began to climb with Stan’s help. Thankfully they both managed to climb up onto the boat, soaking wet and horribly cold as a gust of wind blew by, but they were alive. That was the important thing.

On his hands and knees, Stan grabbed his coat and helped the quivering Ford out of his dripping wet blue hoodie and into the dry coat. “C’mon, Sixer, let’s get you warm.”

Hazed and weaker than he would like to be, Ford mindlessly nodded and let his brother take charge. Stan was put on protective auto-pilot, and despite being cold and weak he did not rest as he walked them both inside the small cabin of the boat and helped his brother get well.

The wood-burning stove cracked with fire in the corner in the kitchen, the couch right by it for cozy relaxation. Stan made his brother stand next to it and he quickly threw in three more planks of wood into the fire to make it hotter and fueled for a long time. Stan then fished out Ford’s thickest pair of yellow-plaid pajamas and fuzzy knitted socks (Mabel never rests) and made Ford change while Stan turned on the heating pad and decided that now was as good a time as any for dinner. Rather than coffee, Stan stood only a few feet away from his twin as he fixed some tomato soup and dug out some bread and made grilled cheeses to go with it, keeping an eye on Ford’s skin and how it was slowly not looking as pale as it did.

Ford sat on the couch as his mind was slowly coming back to himself. It then suddenly came to him in an instant that Stan was still wet and freezing, risking a cold if he didn’t change quickly. “Stanley, you knucklehead!” He scolded and jumped up from the couch, leaving the damp coat on the floor. He marched over and swiped the wooden spoon from Stan’s hand and pointed to the doorway leading downstairs for the bedroom. “Go change! You’ll catch your death in this cold.”

Stan snorted and rolled his eyes with a smile. “Whatever, I’m fine, I wasn’t in there as long as you.”

“I don’t care, go change!”

“Alright, Ma.” Stan punched his shoulder lightly as he walked off to change. While the warmth of the hot stove as he cooked did help, he couldn’t deny how much better he would feel to be in cozy pajamas rather than freezing wet clothes.

Soon in Mabel’s pink goodbye sweater (it’s cold, he has to) and dark-gray sweatpants with socks and slippers. Ford turned off the stove and poured the tomato soup into two mugs and had the sandwiches on plates. He nodded to the couch by the fire and instructed firmly, “Sit.”

Stan shrugged and did as he was told as he swiped the fuzzy hand-knitted blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over his lap. Once again Ms. Mabel Pines was responsible for something cozy and warm in the Stan O’ War II. It had come in the mail around the holidays, a thick blue and green blanket that looked like it had been knitted with expensive wool. It was a huge blanket that could easily cover three grown men and Stan honestly thought it was his grandniece’s best work thus far.

He chuckled and shook his head as Ford joined him by his side. “Does Mabel ever just relax? You know, sit around and do nothing like a kid should?”

“It runs in the family.” He quipped and let Stan throw the blanket over his lap as he handed him his mug of soup and placed the plates on their laps. Stan smiled at Ford, hoping for one in return, but he was startled to find a scowl on his brother’s face. “Now as for you, what on Earth were you thinking?!” He scolded.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and winced. “I know I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Completely irresponsible! Totally reckless! What am I supposed to do to myself if you had gotten hurt, Stanley!? Yes, I know how strong you are and you can handle a monster or two, but really!”

His parental scolding continued for a few minutes while Stan smiled at himself and sipped his soup. This wasn’t the first time Ford had taken this approach to being “angry” at Stan for saving his life or doing something even slightly dangerous. They were sailing in the middle of the Arctic Ocean for Mose’s sake, of course it’s going to be dangerous, that’s what makes it exciting, but that never stopped Ford from lecturing him every time his neck was at risk for Ford’s behalf. Stan had learned to just let Ford rant and go with it until he had a chance to remind him that if the tables would turn Ford would be just as stupid, and then all that would leave Ford to do is mumbled how Stan is a better man than him and needs to continually prove him right.

By the time Stan was quietly munching on his grilled cheese, Ford was catching his breath, and Stan said collectively, “Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Sixer, just relax, okay? On second thought, don’t, cuz all that energy is warming you up.”

His red cheeks, Ford rolled his eyes and mumbled something in his mug that Stan only picked up because he had heard Ford say it countless times. “Don’t make me lose you again, Stanley.”

Stan snorted and rested his head on his brother’s shoulder to help keep him warm. “Never gonna happen. You’re stuck with me forever, Poindexter.”

“Good.”

[nominnation]

Shard of Broken Things

Author's Note: This has been posted on NCT Amino and a03. It was made specifically for NCT Amino with the Writing Club as we make our way writing fics for every member of NCT.

Pairing(s): Renjun x Jaemin

Synopsis: Renjun and Jaemin went to high school together. They were the best of friends, but after high school, they went their separate ways. Now, Renjun is investigating the mysterious deaths in the city with his partner, Jeno, and Jaemin is piercing veins with his teeth and dumping the bodies in dumpsters at midnight. What happens when they meet again? Will Renjun discover Jaemin's secret?

Genre: angst, slight fluff, supernatural

Warnings: major character death, crime, insanity, minor blood

Hwang Renjun trailed his eyes over the body of the male laced in black garments, lying face first in the mud-caked asphalt, money and identification long plucked from the confines of his leather wallet.

Renjun rubbed his brow in frustration before carefully nudging the body of the male over, mentally choking when he realized how young he was. The male was no older than 25, long, dingy brown hair matted in clumps, obviously someone who had been homeless or had been held captive for a long time. He knelt down and brought his gloved hand up to push back the hood, searching for something he hoped wasn’t there. His hopes weren’t answered as his eyes zeroed in on the very familiar signature markings. “Well?” Detective Lee Jeno asked from his place by the garbage bins, evidence camera hanging loosely around his neck. “Call Chief Qian. We’ve got another,” he replied before stepping away, letting the coroner step forward to bag the body. Jeno shook his head with a drawn out sigh and pulled the phone from his police issued jacket, only pressing one button before raising it to his ear. “Bite marks on this one too,” he spoke into the speaker. Whatever was said on the other side was inaudible as Renjun passed his partner to slide into the passenger side of the black SUV.

~ Shiny black shoes silently hit the cobblestone floor as the owner led them down the narrow hallway, lit by fire lanterns along the windowless hall. When the torches came to an end, they were replaced with a metal winding staircase that creaked with every step, leading up to a heavy black door, beams of yellow light creeping around the creases. Pulling on the cold metal handle, he opened the door without so much as a groan at the weight before slipping inside, pulling the door closed. “You’re late!” an annoying “sing-song” voice greeted him. “Put a sock in it,” Jaemin muttered grumpily, kicking off his shoes off by the door. “Where’s Boss?” he asked, not looking at the younger male, hands plunged into elbow-high soapy water. “I think he’s in the office with Doyoung,” the male said, looking back down at the water as he pulled up a white ceramic plate, placing it in the dish drainer. Jaemin gave a nod and headed toward the open kitchen door before the younger at the sink called out to him. “Tell Tae that we need a dishwasher! I’m tired of doing it by hand!” Jaemin shook his head, a smile finding its way to his red lips. “That’s kinda the whole point of probation chores, Hyuck,” the male said, strolling out of the room, sock feet meeting laminated hardwood. He walked through the mostly unused sitting room and up another, narrower set of stairs, three stories high, getting off at the second story. A long hallway covered in white tile greeted him as he rounded the bend. He strolled down the hall, nose picking up strong whiffs of mold and Doyoung’s poisonous musk. The office, Taeyong’s office to be precise, resided at the end of the long hall, 10 doors down from the stairs. Jaemin brought a fist up to rap on the bullet proof, metal encased door, when said door swung open, a tearful Chenle walking out. Jaemin shot him a confused glance but dared not utter a word as the smaller male rushed from the door, nearly slipping on the tile as he hurried to the end of the hall for the stairs, most likely to the comfort of his room a floor below. Jaemin pushed through the half ajar door, letting it close with a heavy clang behind him as his eyes habitually squinted in the dark room, only lit by a single lamp, highlighting two shadowy faces that Jaemin didn’t need to see to know they were there. “Did you complete the task?” “Yes. He’s been taken care of,” he responded cooly. “Where?” “The alley of 5th street.” “Isn’t that where you dumped the last one?” Doyoung chimed in. Jaemin rolled his eyes, meeting Doyoung’s honey brown ones briefly before nodding. “It’s the closest to the dumpsters! Easiest place to put them!” Taeyong’s lips pursed at the comment before tapping a pen on the mahogany desk. “If you’re not careful, you’ll lead them right to us!” Doyoung hissed. Jaemin tried to make it seem like the words didn’t affect him, but the truth was, the thought of leading the police back to him, back to them, was not a thought that had crossed his mind before. The realization hit him in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t see all that well in the poorly lit room, but the inhale from Doyoung meant he wasn’t finished and he was getting ready to cut into Jaemin’s resolve once more when Taeyong raised his hand. “That’s enough.” His voice soft like honey, but held such command that Jaemin’s eyes met the floor and Doyoung’s mouth snapped closed. “Jaemin is a new recruit. He cannot be expected to know these things without being told,” he began. Doyoung scoffed, but the sharp look Taeyong sent his way had him hurriedly shutting up. “With that said, Jaemin, you may continue feasting, but when it is time to get rid of your meal, someone will escort you until you learn the ways of disposing,” he said. His tone was sharp and hard, digging into Jaemin’s resolve even more, because it wasn’t what he said that hurt, it was how he said it. Jaemin gave a curt nod, clasping his hands in front of him stiffly. Taeyong’s eyes flicked to him and then back down to the stack of papers in front of him. Reading glasses perched on his

nose where he’d eyed the scribbles and curved writing on the paper that oddly resembled a map. With a simple flick of his hand, Jaemin’s stomach dropped to his toes, scrambling for the door anxiously, throwing it open and hurriedly bounding into the hall. He didn’t realize until he got there, that his chest felt odd. A dull aching feeling that he faintly recalled from his earlier years. As the door slammed behind him, he pressed his back against the wall, breathing out a long sigh of relief before staggering his way back down the hall, heading to the staircase. As he trudged, it didn’t occur to him that someone was likely going to be watching his every move, sticking with him like glue, and assisting on every dumpsite to criticize whatever he’s doing wrong. It also didn’t occur to him to think about who that person would be. There were only a handful of people living in this house, that would be able to assist. And there was no likely way that Taeyong would select someone from a different house unit to come live here just so Jaemin had a partner. As he made his way back into his room, he flopped on the massive King sized bed, flawlessly made up in the perfectly organized room. Who would they send with him? It couldn’t be Donghyuck or Chenle. Both were too young and Chenle was still a probationary member. Taeyong and Doyoung were both far too busy to deal with something so miniscule. Mark wouldn’t be any better than Jaemin himself at disposing of a body. Hendery was far too busy capturing the “prey” to be of any assistance. As he ticked them off in his head, his stomach churned and his brow creased, a habit from the days when he’d once sweat. That left only two possible options. And neither of them were desirable. Nakamoto Yuta, otherwise known as Prince, or Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, also known as the Ten of Spades. There was no lesser of two evils. No better choice. Both were equally rotten. He was trapped between a perverted asshole who had more in common with Jaemin than he’d like to admit, and a crazy, combat thirsty devil with a dark sense of humor. His goose was well and truly cooked. ~ Jaemin’s fate wasn’t revealed until later that night. An unknown number popped up on his phone and his stomach tightened. They never gave out their cellphone numbers. And only a unit knew everyone’s real names. This unknown number was most certainly his new “partner.” He hesitated in answering the call for just a moment before, letting out a sigh, he pressed the green answer key and pressed the device to his ear. “Meet me in the catacombs.” With one instruction, the call ended, and Jaemin���s heart would have been beating impossibly fast, but all he received was another dull ache that slowly got stronger. That could have been anyone. The voice was too indistinguishable. Driven by curiosity or the ferocity of receiving an order, he slid out of bed and strolled across the hardwood floor, slipping his feet into soft leather black boots that flexed with his movements. He grabbed a small jacket from his closet, not because he was cold, but because normal people would wear jackets this time of year, and headed for the door, pain in his chest intensifying as he walked down three flights of stairs and headed through the kitchen where Mark and Donghyuck stood, glowering at the nearly broken microwave. He opened the heavy black door he’d come out of earlier and slid himself onto the creaking metal steps. The door slammed behind him as he slowly made his way down the steps, invisible pulse accelerating now as he awaited to see who this impossible partner would be. As he reached the bottom, he expected to see the silhouette of someone, but was met with only the familiar musty air that tickled the back of his throat as he breathed in. His boots silently swept across the dusty concrete as trekked down the hall of the century old tomb beneath the frontfort mansion. It didn’t take him long to locate the shape of someone’s shadow bouncing off the rocky walls by the glowing torch light. As the shadow came into view, at first

he was confused. This was neither of the men he feared, but as he got closer, a shock ran down his spine, and he had half a mind to turn the other way. He’d been wrong. There was a worse one out of his two options. And he’d gotten the worse of the two. Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul stood alert in the middle of the tomb hallway, back to Jaemin as he studied the curvature featured along the ancient pebbles creating the wall. The pain in Jaemin’s chest grew less of a dull ache and now to full blown panic as his feet drew him closer, half hoping his silent footsteps would creep up on the other, giving him an advantage. There was no advantage when the Ten of Spades was involved. “Look who finally decided to show up!” his lips curved into a sinister smirk as he spun around to face the younger. Jaemin tried not to look startled, and failed miserably if the other’s laugh was anything to go by. “For a Bloodsucker, you sure do startle easily,” he cackled. Jaemin could feel his face burn in embarrassment, the stoniness of his cheeks rippling at the pressure, a side effect from not actually being able to blush. The other’s laughter quieted finally with a shake of his head, returning back to his normal posture. The Ten of Spades was a small, thin male that was often underestimated for his height. He looked like a tiny, frail boy that was no more than a damsel. Common belief was totally incorrect. He may have been a full head shorter than Jaemin, but he could take down a typical, full grown body guard with a few swift moves. In fact, he had. He was a master at fighting, always able to locate someone’s weak spots even before they knew what they were. “Are you going to stare all day? Or are we going to get started?” he asked. Jaemin shook his head. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring. “Started on what?” he asked. Ten shook his head with a dark laugh. “Romeo brought someone else back. He’s being held in the usual place,” he said. Romeo, or as everyone else knew him, Hendery, was the units drug dealer. Except his job didn’t stop there. He was also the main man to capture and bring back individuals for Jaemin, or occasionally Yuta, to feast on. Usually, it was people who couldn’t or refused to pay for their product. Rarely was it a random civilian that had simply seen too much. Ten led them further down the tunnel, down the same cobblestone stairs he’d seen dozens of times and down into the creeping darkness that would lead to the dungeons. The brass cage door came into Jaemin’s view first, before his eyes landed on a male of about 30 or so, overweight, in ripped, bagging clothes with a trail of blood dripping down his arm. “Help me… please,” he muttered hoarsely, brown eyes filled with hope. Ten stared at him, features turning soft as he gently reached a hand in to grasp the man’s hand. Jaemin could hear the man’s heartbeat slowing as he calmed, relaxing as he finally had someone to rescue him. Or so he thought. Sharp nails dug into the chubby skin of the males arm, drawing blood to the surface in the tight grip, the male crying out at the pain as Ten’s sweet smile turned wicked. “Only death with help you now,” he hissed. Jaemin felt the familiar gnawing in the pit of his stomach as the back of his throat burned in thirst. Ten turned to look at him, giving him a wink before opening the cage door. Jaemin threw off the jacket he’d been wearing, having no desire to get stains on it. He crouched down low enough to step through the door, eyes meeting the flesh of the male before traveling up to his eyes. He was terrified. Jaemin’s eyes flashed bright red as he moved closer until he was crouched right beside the male, the delicious smell of warm blood filling his nostrils, making his stomach groan in want. “Type O. My favorite,” his voice came out as a raspy hiss. The male trembled in fright as Jaemin moved closer, placing his now parted lips on the males neck, two sharp teeth piercing the tender flesh, shooting straight into his artery. A loud, bellowing scream ripped from the males lips as he writhed and

struggled, held down by Jaemin’s iron grip as the hungry male swiftly guzzled his meal. ~ Jaemin wiped his mouth on his arm, letting the lifeless body drop to the floor as he stood up and turned around to find Ten staring at him. “Did you even leave a drop?” he asked, voice laced with humor. Jaemin shrugged in response and easily lifted the drained male, throwing the body over his shoulder and stepping out of the cage. “So are we going to go dump this thing now?” he asked. Ten gave a little chuckle somewhere between a squeak and a bellow, and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.” With that, the two made their way back up the tunnel hall they’d strolled down. “So when you drink from Haechan or Mark, what stops you from draining them like you did him?” Ten asked. Jaemin shot him a look. Since when did they have casual conversation? “Um… Well Yuta is usually there if I go too far. Not to mention, they’re some of my best friends. I keep that in mind and only drink a bit,” he said. Ten gave a humph and led them to the end of the hallway, to another black metal door. He pushed it open and stepped out first, holding the door open for the younger. When Jaemin stepped out, he was met with the blackness of the night in a back alley between the local Chinese restaurant and the Japanese manga store. Both owned and operated by members of their unit. “Now, if I weren’t with you, where would you put the body?” Ten asked. Jaemin looked around as he thought. “Maybe on 6th?” he asked, pointing with his free hand in that general direction. Ten clicked his tongue in disapproval. “And then you’re leaving bread crumbs for those stupid cops to follow,” he proclaimed. Jaemin looked down in embarrassment. He didn’t mind the killing. He didn’t mind the torture he knew some of the captives endured. He didn’t mind sleeping over an old tomb. He didn’t even mind disposing of the bodies. He just wasn’t good at it. “Come with me.” Jaemin didn’t object. He swiftly followed behind the lithe form of the smaller male, gracefully walking without a sound. “Now since you’ve been leaving bread crumbs, where do think would be the most obsolete place to dump the body without leaving a trail?” he asked. Jaemin had no idea. Up until that afternoon, he was led to believe that everything was fine with his technique, and now everything was skewed. “How about somewhere near the police station?” Ten said, a wicked glint in his eyes. Jaemin’s eyes widened. “That’s too dangerous!” he gaped. Ten shook his head and began leading the way in the opposite direction, careful to stay in the shadows of the alleys so as not to draw any attention to the boys carrying a large body. The police station was three streets over and would almost certainly be crawling with night guards, although most of them were usually alert until about 2 am. Then they’d be snoozing when they thought no one was watching or lurking. This time of night though, they’d all be wide awake, at least for another hour. And Ten seemed to think that that made the job exciting. One thing was for sure, though, Jaemin did not find this exciting. Not even a little bit. When they finally reached the back alley across the street from the police station, Jaemin could practically feel the nerves crawling over his skin. “Why do we have to do this?” he asked, voice trembling. Ten rolled his eyes and shoved Jaemin slightly, making the younger glare at him. “Relax! It’s not like we’re marching him up the steps of the station. We’re dropping him in the dumpster!” Jaemin’s eyes zeroed in on the dumpster. It was right near the entrance of the alley. Barely concealed by the shadows of the alley and the night. “No! I can’t do it!” Ten huffed and pushed Jaemin forward. “Throw it in the dumpster and run if you’re that scared!” he whispered sternly. Jaemin found his footing quickly and crept forward. He didn’t like this, but Ten would never let it go if he didn’t do this. Not to mention what Doyoung or Taeyong would do to him if he couldn’t succeed. As he got closer, he could feel the hairs on the back

of his neck stand up. He kept his eyes trained on the police station, hoping no one would see him creeping around in the dark. Taking cautious steps, he slowly raised the metal lid. Once it was open wide enough, he used all of his strength to maneuver the body off of his shoulder and down into the metal bin. As soon as the body hit the trash below, he let the lid fall, wincing as it gave a loud clang, no doubt getting the attention of all of the officers roaming the street. He wasted no more time and turned back toward the direction they’d come from and bolted as fast as his legs would carry him, not even caring if Ten could keep up or not. Jaemin let out a small groan as the phone near his head continuously buzzed, demanding attention. He rolled over, swatting around the mattress and sheets before finding the phone, answering the call without bothering to look at the caller id. It was probably an unknown number anyways. To his surprise, a familiar voice greeted him on the other side, causing him to shoot up in the bed. “Renjun?!” he asked in complete disbelief at hearing from his high school best friend again after three years. “Hey Nana, how are you?” he asked. Jaemin felt his insides turn mushy at the voice. “I’m good Renjunnie! How are you?” He heard a small laugh on the other side of the speaker. “I’m wondering if you will meet me in an hour at our favorite coffee shop. I miss you,” he said. Jaemin felt the same dull ache as the night before fill him, but this time, it was pleasant. “Ok! I’ll see you soon!” With that, the two hung up. A smile stitched itself across Jaemin’s face as he toppled out of bed, excited jitters flowing off of him as he pulled open various doors, pulling out a pair of jeans and a nice green shirt for this outing. He slid into a pair of black Vans and was out the door as soon as he could be. He bounded down the stairs with such an excited energy he was practically radiating it. “What’s got you so jittery this morning?” Donghyuck asked as Jaemin pranced into the kitchen. Jaemin couldn’t fight the smile on his face. “Renjunnie called! I’m going to meet him at the cafe!” he cheered. Donghyuck’s amused face fell. “But you haven’t seen him since… you know… the change,” he said, gesturing with his hands. Jaemin’s face fell. He hadn’t thought about that. Both boys had gone to high school together, along with Donghyuck, Mark and Chenle amongst others. Renjun and Jaemin had been stuck together practically all through high school. They never did anything unless the other was close behind. Both made good grades and stayed out of the limelight as much as possible. Keeping their heads down and never getting into trouble. After high school, Renjun had gone off to school and Jaemin had stayed behind, unable to afford the luxuries of further schooling. He was happy in the mafia. Happy with how his life had turned out. He had food and friends and shelter. But then there was the minor complication of his… new self. The one Renjun didn’t know and most likely wouldn’t approve of. Just like everyone else. Jaemin took a deep, unneeded breath and shrugged. “I don’t care,” he said coolly, strolling out the door. Upon arriving at the cafe, he strolled inside, hoping to seem as nonchalant as he possibly could. He spotted Renjun sitting at a booth near the back, dressed perfectly professionally in a tan button down shirt and tan pants that looked eerily familiar. Jaemin was gleeful as he got closer, plopping down in the booth across from his friend and giving him a wide smile that Renjun returned. “I ordered your favorite!” Renjun beamed. Jaemin’s face fell. How was he supposed to explain that his high school best friend that he no longer drank the coffee he drank every day for four years? How would the male ever understand without knowing the truth? Maybe this was a bad idea. “I um… I actually don’t drink coffee anymore,” he muttered. Renjun gave him a questioning look, a cover for the slight hurt that crossed his features. He’d tried to wash it away but Jaemin could still see

it. Well that came out of nowhere. “Um… just down the street. I have a few roommates,” he said, not telling a complete lie. Renjun nodded and hummed as he tapped his fingers on the table. “What have you been up to since high school?” he asked. Jaemin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn’t like Renjun to ask him questions like that. “Well, I’ve had a few jobs here and there,” he said. Renjun nodded and tapped on the plastic coffee in front of him. “What about you? What have you been doing since high school?” Jaemin asked. Renjun gave him an inquisitive look, glancing down at his own attire as if it should have been obvious. And it was. If Jaemin had been paying attention. The badge on his shirt was a dead giveaway, and Jaemin hadn’t seen it. “Oh… I see… That’s awesome!” he exclaimed with fake enthusiasm. “Actually, my job is why I wanted to meet with you,” he began. The pain in Jaemin’s chest intensified. Why else would he want to talk to him as a police officer if he hadn’t done anything wrong. Suddenly flashes of the night before filled his mind. What if they’d seen him? It was dark, but what if they’d seen him throw away the body? “We found a body in a trash bin last night. Probably 30 or so.” Here it comes! Renjun would surely be crucified now! “Whoever is doing this apparently is a vampire, judging by the saliva we’ve gotten off the bodies.” He froze in his seat. They had his saliva! “This person seems to have a thing for young people. So please, try to be careful. I don’t want to find my high school crush in the trash.” A load removed itself from Jaemin’s chest. They didn’t know it was him. But they would have to be more careful. Wait. Did he just say- “You had a crush on me?” A blush found its way up to Renjun’s cheeks, the once sturdy male now looking like the shy boy Jaemin remembered from early high school. [C] “Had is a little untrue… I have a crush on you,” he said, muttering the last bit. Jaemin’s eyes widened. All this time he’d been pining after Renjun, and now, he finds out after the horrible accident that Renjun had been pining after him too! “I kinda still have a crush on you too…” he said. Had he had the ability, he would have been blushing too. Renjun’s eyes lit up. “So maybe you’d like to go on a date sometime?” Renjun asked. Jaemin looked around the restaurant, eyebrows creasing. “Aren’t we on a date right now?” he asked. Renjun grinned. “If we were, I certainly wouldn’t be in my work clothes. And we’d be doing something a little classier than getting coffee.” Jaemin fiddled with his thumbs beneath the table, a shy smile worked its way onto his lips. “You’ve changed a lot, you know,” Renjun commented. Jaemin glanced up at at Renjun. “What do you mean? I haven’t changed.” The male across from him let out a sound somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. “A few years ago, if I had said a comment like that, your face would have been as red as a tomato.” So Renjun did remember. And if he wasn’t careful, the male would piece together just how different he was. Once Jaemin opened the big heavy door from the tunnels into the house, he was almost immediately bombarded by questions. “Why would you go out like that?!” “What did you do?!” “Does he know anything?!” “Why the meeting?!” Jaemin brushed them off as best he could, opting to walk past the questions and out of the kitchen, until of course, a small, but firm arm grabbed his elbow, tugging him back into the kitchen. “Jaemin’s friend is a cop,” Ten’s voice snarled. Jaemin’s knees locked in shock and surprise. “How do you-?” “I followed you. Now I understand why you didn’t want to dump the body near the station! You didn’t want your boyfriend to see you!” Jaemin shook his head rapidly. “No! I didn’t even know-” “Maybe Jaemin’s working for them!” Jaemin’s body shook. Why would anyone accuse him for that?! Let alone, Chenle! “No! I swear!” “Get out Jaemin.” Doyoung’s voice was snarled and low. A voice he was used to hearing, but never directed at him. His feet moved on their own, head ducked low,

feet shuffling up the stairs to his room to await whatever doom was being decided upon him. Something like this had happened only once before. Jaemin had been in the vampire transition then to fully comprehend and understand what was going on. He did remember Yuta though. Bent over the trembling body of a male in their colors. Vaguely, he remembered the name. Taeil maybe? He’d obviously been someone special to Yuta. He’d never been the same since. That changed him into a ruthless, bloodthirsty killer. The door to his room flew open. Surely they hadn’t decided his fate already! It’d only been a few minutes! But when Jaemin caught Yuta’s eyes, he knew what he’d be forced to do. And it shattered him. Yuta’s arms locked around Jaemin, holding the younger in front of him as he was shoved through the dark catacombs, feet never making a sound. Jaemin struggled, a feeble attempt at getting away. And had it been anyone else, he would have succeeded. He and Yuta shared far too much in common. “You shouldn’t have gone. Then this wouldn’t have happened. But you are a fool,” Yuta hissed in his ear. If Jaemin possessed the ability to cry, he would be bawling. Instead, he was stuck, hands trembling, mind reeling, stomach hardening. Yuta shoved him through the familiar room with the cages. A room he visited almost on a nightly basis for his meals. Usually, the room had no affect on him. If he was particularly thirsty, this room brought him great joy. Now, all he felt was fear and hate. Renjun’s body was bruised badly. His arm was bent back in a way no arm should ever be. His left eye was blackening and puffy. Jaemin had hoped that at least he’d be passed out, that this could be just a little easier. But of course, this was the mafia. Great when no one had wronged them. Ruthless when someone had. Renjun’s eyes zeroed in on Jaemin. His one good eye widening then scrunching into betrayal. “I knew you were hiding something,” he hissed. Jaemin’s eyes cast to the floor, chest tightening in pain. “Well get to it. We don’t have all day.” Taeyong’s voice came as a shock. He expected Doyoung to be here. But not their usually soft-hearted leader. The cage opened and Jaemin was shoved inside. His eyes roved over Renjun with pity, fear, and sadness. Love and pain filling his chest. “I knew there was something different. I just didn’t know you were a killer.” The words pierced Jaemin’s unbeating heart. “Please don’t make me do this,” his words were a hoarse whisper. “Pathetic,” Ten’s voice muttered, stepping forward. He reached through the cage with a pocket knife and cut a large gash on Renjun’s arm, Renjun yelped out in pain. Blood beaded down Renjun’s arm. As soon as the smell hit Jaemin’s nose, his eyes glowed the familiar red. Renjun let out a strained laugh, eyes trained on Jaemin’s. “So much for our date,” he muttered. Jaemin got closer, knelt beside the male, staring at him hungrily now. Eyes bright red as the blood wafted to his nose. “I have always loved you,” he whispered, leaning closer and pressing a kiss to Renjun’s neck. Renjun sucked in a harsh breath of air. Jaemin could hear the males heart thudding in his ears. Jaemin grazed his teeth over Renjun’s vein, his brain muddled with the sounds of Renjun’s heart. He faintly heard the quiet squeak of the cage opening. Most likely a hungry Yuta coming to help Jaemin finish the job. But Jaemin had other plans. He waited for the door to open completely, and when it did, he snapped around, finding Haechan standing at the door, wide eyed. Jaemin’s mind was too addled to coherently see Haechan. He pushed his body into the elder, sending them both barreling into the floor. “Run Renjun!” He screamed, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of Haechan’s neck, the other letting out a loud scream, thrashing around. He heard the cage rattle as feet scurried around him, attempting to yank him off Haechan, who’s blood pooled into his mouth deliciously. He didn’t get to indulge long though. Arms wrapped around him, encasing him against a chest as fangs bore into

his own neck, ripping the flesh. “Get him out of here!” he heard Taeyong bellow somewhere close by. He assumed Doyoung and Hendery had carried Haechan out before Yuta attacked the young one too. “Shit! He got away!” Ten yelled angrily, stomping the ground before walking over and slamming his fist into Jaemin’s jaw. “You little traitor! You are not better than Yuta!” he screamed. The teeth in his neck retracted. Jaemin knew what that meant. He took one last breath, looking around the room calmly, relieved that Renjun had got away. “I can’t help that I loved him,” he whispered hoarsely. His body felt so very heavy. Venom trickled down the holes in his neck as he succumbed to the weight. Renjun perched right outside a window in the tomb. He hadn’t been able to go too far in his beaten state, but it was away, somewhere they’d never be able to get him. He watched with tearful eyes as Jaemin’s body was dropped callously to the floor, eyes wide but without movement. No breath entering his body. He watched as the body thinned, stomach sinking in on itself, ribs revealing themselves. Taking him back to the same state he’d been in before he was turned. And he realized it then. Renjun had gone to college because his parents could afford it. Jaemin’s family couldn’t afford food. He’d slowly starved to death. “Get him out of here,” the smallest of them all muttered, kicking Jaemin’s body and stomping away as the other vampire picked up the body. Renjun’s heart broke in two places. One side full of sadness and sorrow. The other full of pure hatred and anger. He would avenge Jaemin’s death. He wouldn’t stop until everyone in this Mafia house were dead.P

[nitewrighter]

Across the Amanogawa

A Short McHanzo/Gency Ficlet for Tanabata!!

...I miss festivals. Do you guys miss festivals?

(Yes I know it’s very overdue for 7/7 but Tanabata can be celebrated as late as August so ssshhhh )

-----

It was a muggy evening, made muggier by the steam drifting up from all the matsuri stands. The murmur of the crowd thrummed against the distant screech of cicadas. All the colors of the festival, the streamers, the senbazuru, and the kusudama all seemed to fold together into a rainbow kaleidoscope arcing over the crowd under the yellow-white glow of the strings of lanterns overhead. McCree and Hanzo stood near the festival’s main gate, and Hanzo rolled his fingers on his arm as he scanned the crowd again. McCree stood next to him, also scanning the crowd, but also frequently feeling at his hair. 

“You sure I don’t look like a tourist?” said McCree, glancing down at his clothes. The red and white ichimatsu patterning on his yukata reminded Hanzo a bit of old-fashioned picnic blankets or the gingham tablecloths of Italian restaurants, but it suited McCree well. Hanzo’s own yukata was a blue and yellow yabane pattern, and despite being more covered than usual, he felt... smaller. More vulnerable. McCree kept complaining that he felt naked without the hat but Hanzo felt naked without a quiver on his back.

“You’re over six feet tall in Japan. You’re going to look like a tourist no matter what,” said Hanzo, clearly tense. He felt McCree look over at him and caught himself, “But... there are plenty of tourists and the point is blending in,” said Hanzo, still scanning the crowd. The presence of other tourists and Omnics meant that at least they had a better chance at getting through the night without anyone recognizing them, but it had still taken Hanzo a good 45 minutes to convince McCree to leave the hat behind. 

“I thought the point was having fun?” said McCree.

“It is--” said Hanzo, breaking his eyes away from the crowd, “It... it is.”

“If you want to bail, I’m sure Genji and Merce would be totally fine with--”

“No,” said Hanzo, “I... it’s been a long time since I let myself do anything like this.”

“Look, even if you had any folks here, I’m pretty sure they aren’t interested in a fight--not today, anyway,” said McCree.

“Mm,” Hanzo tried to let this reassurance sink in past all his mental defenses. Key word, tried.

“Jesse!” a clear voice cut through the murmur of the crowd and Hanzo watched as a blonde flamelike ponytail bobbed through the crowd. McCree stuck a hand up in a wave and Hanzo instantly went on high alert for anyone who might have been keeping an eye on them. After apparently weaving through the crowd as quickly albeit convolutedly as possible, Genji and Mercy stepped in front of them, their fingers interlaced together. Genji was donning a green headband and black cloth face mask, a few of his scars peeking out from underneath both, but they had clearly coordinated their yukatas, with Genji wearing a green yukata with a yellow obi, and Mercy wearing a yellow yukata with a green obi.

“You made it!” said Genji.

“We made it here before you,” said Hanzo, flatly.

“Yes--well...” Genji rubbed the back of his head.

“We got a little sidetracked,” said Mercy.

“Code for, ‘The watchpoint called and someone’s bleedin’ out so you had to coach Brigitte through it over vid-chat?’” guessed McCree.

“Nothing that dire!” said Mercy, “...at least she didn’t make it sound that dire...” she trailed off with concern.

“Angela,” Genji bumped his shoulder against hers playfully and she seemed to snap out of it.

“Oh! I’m sure it’s fine,” she said with a wave.

Fine, the word set Hanzo on edge. “Did you two make sure you weren’t followed?” he said on reflex.

“We weren’t followed,” said Genji, perfectly patiently. 

“Are you sure?” the words came out of Hanzo as a flinch.

“We’re sure,” said Genji.

“We’ve been on plenty of missions together, Hanzo,” said Mercy, “You know we’d call it off or call it in if something felt wrong.”

“Right,” said Hanzo, “Right.” Now he felt awkward for unconsciously trying to drag the mood down to his level. 

“So relax!” said Genji, “If you keep worrying, I’m going to beat you for all the prizes! I promised Angela I’d win her one of those giant Pachimaris at the ring toss booth.”

“..and I told him I had no idea where we would fit something like that in our apartment,” said Mercy with a wry smile.

“It’s about the principle,” said Genji.

“And the fried food,” said McCree looking over at one of the food stalls.

“Oh! Takoyaki! We have to make sure to grab some before the fireworks show!” said Genji.

“And get our wishes in, too,” said Mercy.

“But first, prizes,” said Genji, hooking his arm in Mercy’s and walking through the festival gates.

“Sounds like a full docket to me,” said McCree, walking after them with Hanzo in tow. Mercy and Genji walked a few feet ahead of them. They were leaning against each other as they moved through the crowd. Hanzo glanced down at McCree’s hand trailing lazily at his side. Hanzo wondered if he should take McCree’s hand. He wanted to take McCree’s hand, but at the same time was having a bit of a mental block with the ‘public’ part of public displays of affection. Genji made it look natural, having always been a bit of a playboy, but now it felt... deeper. More tentative, more about actual affection than flouting the clan’s conservative practices. Hanzo gave another glance down at McCree’s hand. If he took it, would he be taking it because he wanted to prove to himself he could? Sure he wanted to, but he and McCree already knew how he felt, so who was there to prove it to? Genji? With his back turned? 

“Look at ‘em, all matchy... why didn’t we coordinate?” said McCree, snapping Hanzo out of his train of thought.

Hanzo shot McCree an incredulous look and McCree snorted.

“I’m kidding,” he said, smiling and he took Hanzo’s hand. Hanzo’s arm tensed at the shoulder. 

“You okay?” said McCree, immediately picking up on that tension.

I’m fine, thought Hanzo, In fact, I am so fine I was going to take your hand first. Because I can do that. Because I’m capable of that. Because I can show affection to someone without worrying the world is suddenly going to explode around me and rip it all away. But you took my hand first so it’s your fault that I tensed up and--what is wrong with me.

“Yes,” said Hanzo, blankly.

McCree huffed a little.

“I can have fun,” said Hanzo, “I am having fun.”

“That’s it, partner, just like Zen says, speak that shit into existence!” said McCree with a teasing grin on his face.

Hanzo half-scoffed half-chuckled. “You’ve made your point.”

“Look, you take it as slow as you need, all right?” said McCree, “And if you ain’t feelin’ it, you ain’t feelin’ it--we can go anytime you need. I mean, yeah the wishing thing is cute, but it ain’t like we don’t have fried food and overpriced rigged games over in the states.” He gestured with his chin over at Genji and Mercy, both apparently lost in their own conversation. “Those two can take care of themselves.”

“The games aren’t rigged,” said Hanzo with a sharp smirk, “Most of them are absurdly easy and aimed at children. Do Americans enjoy swindling children?”

“Oh it’s right up there with apple pie,” said McCree, “You ever hear of a snipe hunt?”

“’Snipe’ hunt?” said Hanzo.

“Not ‘snipe’ like sniper, it’s a bird--except not really, because there ain’t a bird, you’re just sending a kid off to look for it.”

“...for a nonexistent bird,” said Hanzo. 

“For me though, it was a jackalope,” said McCree, “You ever see one of those taxidermy rabbits with the antlers? When I was a kid, Billie told me they only came out on Saturday mornings, so I’d spend every Saturday trompin’ around, lookin’ for ‘em. Didn’t realize until later that this premium Jackalope-spotting time conveniently coincided with when she’d be hung over.” 

Hanzo chuckled. “I actually did that to Genji several times when we were boys, except it was Tsuchinoko.”

“What’s Tsuchinoko?”

“A fat snake,” said Hanzo.

“A fat snake? No wings or horns or anything? Just a fat snake?”  

“Just a fat snake. Whenever Genji was annoying me, I would say, ‘Oh Genji, I saw the Tsuchinoko in the west garden’ or wherever was conveniently far away from me, and he would sprint for it.” 

McCree snorted, then suddenly paused and glanced up from Hanzo, “...shit. Did you see where they went?”

“Look for the ponytail,” said Hanzo.

“The pony--Oh,” McCree spotted a blond ponytail over the heads of the crowd at one of the stalls, “Good rule of thumb....Is that the ring toss?”

“...knowing Genji, they could be there a while,” said Hanzo.

“I could win you something,” said McCree with a grin.

“You won me that ridiculous plush back in Blizzard World,” said Hanzo with a slight eye roll.

“You love that plush,” said McCree, “Or you could win me something.”

“Do you want an oversized plush?”

“Eh, nah,” said McCree with a shrug. 

Hanzo glanced back at Genji and Mercy, laughing and chatting at the booth. “Dare we disrupt the sanctity of the double date?” he asked with self-effacing faux gravitas.

McCree snickered. “Well, we got the comms. We can say we lost ‘em in the crowd, call ‘em up when it’s time to grab some grub. They got sake here?” said McCree, looking around.

“I thought you liked more bite to your liquor?” said Hanzo, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, when in Rome, right?” said McCree.

-----

Mercy leaned against the side of the booth and lazily flicked at her consolation prize pinwheel as Genji squinted with concentration at the rows of bottles in the ring toss booth.

“My aim is unerring,” she said, trying to imitate the dramatic depth of Genji’s voice.

“I’ve got it, I swear,” said Genji, tossing a ring and having it bounce off the back corner bottle.

“Mm-hmm.”

 “The problem is muscle memory.”

“I’m sure.”

“If these were shuriken I would have gotten you the prize on the first try.” 

“Of course.”

“...you’re enjoying this.”

“A little bit,” Mercy grinned before scanning the crowd. “Hanzo and McCree have definitely ditched us, though.”

“Because Hanzo knows I’ll beat him,” said Genji, sending another ring bouncing off the back row of bottles.

“Of course, dear,” said Mercy with a smirking head tilt. 

Genji turned his head to shoot her a ‘You’re killing me’ look but almost instantly melted at the smug look on her face. She looked relaxed--the most relaxed he had seen her in a while. With all the work they had to do with Overwatch, getting out like this was rare, and it had been even longer since they really had time alone together since Hanzo had come to the Watchpoint. Despite her dislike of Hanzo and her wariness of the whole situation, she had saintlike patience with how much time he was pouring into trying to help his brother. Hanzo’s relationship with McCree had lightened the load considerably, but still, even tonight was, in some ways, yet another exercise in trying to get Hanzo used to being around people again.

“Genji?” she tilted her head and Genji blinked a few times, snapping back to the moment. 

“Sorry--” Genji caught himself and rubbed the back of his neck,  “I just... I’m really glad you’re out here with me tonight.”

“Well... that’s what summer’s for, right?” said Mercy, smiling, “Fireworks, fried food, clearly rigged games...”

“If I say it’s rigged that’s admitting defeat,” said Genji, folding his arms, “But--I mean... thank you. For sticking with me through... all this messiness these past few months.”

“Messiness?” said Mercy.

“I know Hanzo coming back was hard on you, but I’m really glad you trusted my judgment with him. And I’m really glad he’s on the team now.”

Mercy’s expression softened. “It... it was hard at first. I can’t tell you how scared I was that he might hurt you again but...” she looked down, “I thought about it, and... even though I know your situation is a lot more complicated, if I ever got a chance to save my family...” she trailed off.

“Angela...” Genji started but was cut off by a swell of noise from the festival crowd.

“What’s going on?” said Mercy craning her neck slightly when suddenly a massive glittering hologram of an orange goldfish swooped over the crowd, “Woah!”

“I heard the omnics in this region put on an interesting procession,” said Genji, pulling away from the booth slightly as three more giant hologram goldfish, white, yellow, and spotted, joined it, bobbing over the main avenue of the festival. Mercy’s eyes caught the light of the projectors in a puff of steam off one of the tents, and saw several Omnics in headbands and happi coats with spotlight-like faces placed at strategic points around the festival. The crowd oohed as the goldfish suddenly swam upward and then arced downward, suddenly disappearing in a splash of blue pixels meant to signify water, but the gold of their scales lingered among the blue and the pixels spiraled upward into holograms of stars, laying out over the festival crowd.

“The Amanogawa,” said Genji.

“Celestial river, right?” said Mercy, watching smaller versions of the hologram goldfish from earlier weave through the hologram stars, “Like the milky way.”

“The same,” said Genji.

“So the story goes... there’s two lovers on either side of the river, right?” said Mercy. As she spoke, a new hologram projection emerged further down the river of stars, a woman, clothed in brightly colored and complexly patterned cloth, she was cartoony and a little doll- or puppet-like in movements, but her hair trailed behind her almost as river-like as the stars. Another projection on the opposite side appeared, a man in plainer clothes, but still those somewhat puppet-like movements. It somehow lent a more organic feel to the whole show. 

“Orihime and Hikoboshi,” said Genji, “The story goes, they were deeply in love,” as he spoke brightly colored streams of light flowed off of the Orihime hologram, and Mercy realized they were supposed to represent cloth flying off in different directions, “But that love distracted Orihime from her prized weaving, and it made Hikoboshi let his cows loose all over the heavens,” Mercy glanced down to see several children laughing as they chased after a cow hologram, the bell around its neck clanking as it trotted ahead of them, “So they were separated, and they could only meet on the seventh day of the seventh month, but when they got there, there was no bridge.”

“So there was a bird bridge!” said Mercy as black and white bird holograms swept over the starry river in an arc, allowing the two figures to race across them and meet in the middle. “Swallows?”

“Magpies,” said Genji. Even with the mask on she could see his smile pushing at the corners of his eyes, “They say if the festival gets rained out, it’s the tears of the lovers.”

Mercy snorted. “Good to know even Celestial beings can have a rough time with long distance relationships,” she said, smiling.

“Yeah...” said Genji. Mindlessly he slipped his hand into Mercy’s and gave a small squeeze. 

“Did you--” Mercy started.

“You know--” Genji started at the same time and they both caught themselves  and chuckled a little.

“...you go first,” said Genji.

“I was going to ask, when we were writing letters to each other,” Mercy pushed her hair back, “Did it remind you of them?” she nodded her head back at the two holograms of Orihime and Hikoboshi embracing.

Genji snorted, “And I was about to say, ‘You know when we were writing letters, I thought of them as our magpie bridge,’” his face was a million times easier to read with a cloth face mask rather than the usual plating, so Mercy definitely picked up a smirk, “But then again it’s easy to think of you as a celestial goddess.” 

Mercy scoffed, rolled her eyes, and bumped her shoulder into his, but also took that as an opportunity to lean against him as the whole hologram display dissolved into stars dissolving into pixels as the crowd clapped. “Flatterer,” she muttered.

“You love it,” said Genji.

“I do not.”

“Yes you do.”

“Okay fine I do.” 

Genji snickered.

“...do we still have time to write our wishes?” said Mercy, watching as the Happi-clad hologram-projecting Omnics found each other in the crowd and high-fived. 

“Oh! We should get on that!” said Genji. 

“Uh...” the booth owner piped up, “You still have three rings.”

Genji glanced down at the rings on the counter of the booth, held them out in offering to Mercy, who shook her head with a smile and a hand wave. Genji shrugged and tossed all three at once in his ‘fan of blades’ motion...and caught three bottles.

“...I planned that,” said Genji.

“You did not,” said Mercy as the booth owner handed Genji a Yachemon plush.

-----

The festival lights had dimmed to spheres of gold and red and pink and green in the corners of Hanzo’s vision as he knocked back another saucer of sake.

“And--” he bunched up his shoulders, “I think... I think what... what I hate the most--”

“Mm-hmm,” McCree was resting his chin in his hand and his elbow on the bar, nodding along with him.

“What I hate the most is... apologizing for things... that I keep doing, you know?” said Hanzo.

“Mm-hmm,” McCree knocked back his own saucer of sake.

“Because... when you apologize for something, I’m pretty sure all parties agree that... that the thing is not going to happen again, correct?” 

“Weeellllllll....” McCree glanced off and trailed off as his voice pitched to a near country singer whine with that single word, “I mean... yeah. That’s what you wanna happen.”

“So I’m... I say, ‘This will not happen again’ and it happens again, you know?” said Hanzo.

“Healin’ ain’t always linear,” said McCree, shooting him a finger gun.

“And people keep saying that!” said Hanzo, “I want to stop doing the thing, I don’t like doing the thing, that’s why I apologized for it, but then it happens again and I have to apologize for it, again.”

“I think what’s hard on you also is... becomin’ more conscious of this shit, right?” said McCree, “Like you’re lookin’ at yourself more, and you’re looking at your first reactions to shit, and you’re like, ‘What the hell, that ain’t normal.’”

“YES!” Hanzo flinched at how loudly he said it before clearing his throat, “I mean... yes.” 

McCree snickered. “I love you,” he said, his face creasing with his smile and with the pressure of his palm on his face.

“I am drunkenly ranting about how I continue to be a problem and how even I can barely stand myself at this point,” said Hanzo, flatly.

“Uh-huh,” said McCree, “And I love you.”

“Ugh,” Hanzo glanced off.

“...you know what I think, about good people?” said McCree.

“What do you think about good people?” said Hanzo, settling in his seat.

“I think... a big part of what makes a good person... is knowing when you’re at your worst,” said McCree. 

“Well, lucky for you I am always at my worst,” said Hanzo, attempting to play off his drunkenness as a cavalier attitude, but McCree clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“I mean...knowing when the pain is leaking outta you and bleedin’ into other people, people you love. You’ve been shoulderin’ your own pain for so long, Hanzo, you can tell instantly when someone else is trying to pick up that load, and that scares you, because you think ‘They don’t deserve it,’ or ‘They shouldn’t have to do that,’ but you face that shit! Because you’re the bravest guy I know! So I guess what I’m sayin’ is... I’m glad t’be here for you like this. And... and I’m glad you don’t have to carry it alone.” 

“Jesse...” Hanzo trailed off but both McCree and Hanzo flinched as hologram goldfish suddenly illuminated the crowd behind them.

“...The hell is that?” said McCree as they both turned around.

“The epic love story of Orihime and Hikoboshi,” said Hanzo with a dismissive hand wave, “Which probably means it’s getting dark enough for the fireworks. Didn’t you say you wanted some fried food?”

“Fuck yeah I did!” said McCree.

-----

The delicate green leaves of the bamboo were almost completely drowned out by the raucous rainbow of tanzaku colors, rendered practically glowing themselves by the fairy lights hung on the wooden frames supporting the bamboo. 

“It’s been years since I’ve done this,” Genji chuckled under his breath as he wrote on his tanzaku.

“Well you’re bound to have plenty of wishes then,” said Mercy.

“More like plenty of people I want to thank,” said Genji, “You, Zenyatta, McCree, Hanzo... There’s probably a lot to wish for, but I’m also really grateful for where I am, now.”

Mercy leaned over and kissed him on his ear and he glanced up from the slip of paper to her and grinned. She glanced down at his tanzaku and snickered a little. It was a simple ‘Thank you’ tanzaku but with hearts and stars and little rabbit faces doodled in the margins.

“Cute,” said Mercy, bumping her shoulder against his.

“Everyone else made theirs cute! I don’t want to have a plain one!” said Genji, “What did you write?” he glanced over at hers which was practically illegible, “Doctor handwriting strikes again...” he murmured.

“It’s because I don’t have a flat surface to write on!” said Mercy, 

“Mm-hmm,” said Genji, squinting to read at the cursive, “I wish for... ‘Mon...dag...ott?’

“’More days off like this,’” said Mercy, “...though granted, that feels like a really lazy wish considering so many of these wishes are to get a promotion or do well in school...”

Genji leaned his head on hers. “It’s a wish you deserve,” he said.

“Hey! Ponytail!” a voice called out from the crowd and Mercy glanced up.

“Ponytail?” said Mercy as McCree pushed through the crowd, a tray of takoyaki in hand. Hanzo pushed through the crowd after him, also holding a takoyaki tray. There was considerably more ease about them now than earlier, a clear flush and stupid grin on both their faces.

“There you guys are! Man, didn’t even have to call you!” said McCree, he proudly held up a small cardboard tray of takoyaki, “We come bearing gifts.”

“Oh Jesse,” said Mercy, “You shouldn’t have!”

“Well the lines are gettin’ long what with the fireworks startin’ soon,” said McCree, “So we figured we’d grab a tray for you guys, too.”

“We had best get going if we want to get a good seat--” Hanzo started when suddenly a small child darted underfoot and McCree narrowly stepped out of the way to keep the child from running full on into his legs.

“Hoo,” said McCree, “That was a close one--”

Another child, presumably chasing the first child, shoved past the back of McCree’s legs and McCree stumbled and the tray of takoyaki slipped from his hands and landed with a tragic ‘splat’ on the pavement.

“Takoyaki noooooo...” McCree’s voice pitched up in a whimper as one of the festival cleanup crew members hastily moved in and scooped the ruined takoyaki into a trash bag. Jesse McCree had known much heartbreak in his years, but could anything compare to looking forward to hot fried food all night only to have fate cruelly tear it away from him?

“We still have time to get another tray before the fireworks start,” Hanzo said on reflex, “Angela--You and McCree go and secure us a spot, on the green, Genji and I will get the food.”

“I could go,” said McCree with a shrug, “I mean I dropped it...”

“Ponytail,” said Hanzo pointing at Mercy, “6 feet tall in Japan,” he said pointing at McCree.

“Ah, gotcha,” said McCree. 

“We’ll call each other if we can’t find you,” said Genji, “Come on.” He motioned to Hanzo.

-----

The large stretch of lawn designated as a firework viewing area was already crowded by the time Mercy and McCree arrived, but they managed to stake out a small spot at the base of a small hill. 

“So, you and Hanzo...” Mercy smirked at McCree as McCree poked at their one remaining tray of takoyaki, “How’s the first month of domestic bliss coming along?”

“He folds his socks. Who folds socks? But he says it doesn’t make the elastic wear out as fast and now he’s got me doin’ it. He’s ridiculous,” said McCree, leaning back with that stupid lovestuck grin on his face.

Mercy snorted. 

“Though really, I’m glad you warmed up to him,” said McCree.

“Well... to be honest, at this point I’m kind of relieved you’re together,” said Mercy.

“Mm? How d’ya mean?”

“Well, I suppose a part of me was always worried you would suddenly ‘up and hit that dusty trail,’” Mercy made an odd jerking movement with her elbows that was apparently supposed to indicate ‘cowboy’ but just made McCree snicker, “But... with Hanzo you seem more... settled.”

McCree huffed a chuckle, “Weird how that works out--He was on the run just as much as me, huh? Now we’re downright domesticated.”

“McCree, you are probably the least ‘domesticated’ person I know,” said Mercy with a wry grin.

“Praise be,” said McCree with a grin. He snickered, “What about the domestic bliss on your end, then?”

“Well it’s about the same,” said Mercy with a shrug, “It’s nice to have something stable to come home to in the midst of all of Overwatch’s work. Even if we are on the Watchpoint it.... it makes me feel like there’s a life outside the fight, you know? Nights like tonight, too...” she trailed off, looking up at what few stars were able to outshine the light pollution of the festival. 

“Has he popped the question yet?” 

Mercy visibly startled. “Jesse!” she said, blushing.

“I’m just sayin’, it took ten dang years for you two to properly hook up, and if it takes another ten dang years for him to put a ring on it, I’m egging your apartment,” said McCree.

“You are not,” said Mercy.

“Yeah no, probably not, you scare the shit out of me--but point stands!” said McCree.

“I don’t know--I mean, I like the idea of it--and I do think about it...a lot, but...” she sighed, “I guess I’m just scared Talon will somehow swoop in and ruin it like it ruins everything else.”

“...Talon ain’t ruinin’ tonight,” McCree offered.

“No... I suppose it isn’t,” said Mercy, smiling.

-----

“You know what I like about takoyaki?” said Genji, paying the cashier at the Takoyaki tent.

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me no matter what my answer is,” said Hanzo. They both watched as the cook rapidly and skillfully pivoted and flipped the sizzling batter in the little divots of the pan. Poking pale butter-yellow speckled with purple octopus to gold to golden brown.

“What I like about takoyaki is that no matter how runny the batter looks, it always manages to find its way into being a perfect, round little ball. It takes patience and it takes focus, but at the end it’s like the food’s telling you ‘Everything’s going to be okay,’ you know?”

Hanzo gave Genji an odd look. “...perhaps you should leave the philosophizing to Zenyatta,” he said as the vendor handed Genji a new tray of takoyaki, just as beautiful and golden and smothered in sauce and katsuoboshi as the last one.

“Ha! Probably,” said Genji as they headed back, “Hey Hanzo?” 

“Yes?” 

Genji paused for a few seconds, “I’m really glad you came out here like this. I know it’s hard to let yourself relax but... last time we went to a Matsuri together was when we were kids. A couple years ago I never would have thought we would be here together again like this. It means a lot to me that you’re here now.”

“I’m... glad to be out here too,” said Hanzo.

A pause passed between them.

“So...” Hanzo started.

“So... what?” said Genji.

“I feel like that whole thing was building up to something,” said Hanzo.

“Oh--well, no, I just... really wanted to let you know that.”

“Genji...”

“Well, okay, there’s something I wanted to tell you, but we’re having such a good time tonight, I don’t want it to make the night weird--It’s not bad news! I think it’s really good news! I just... don’t want it to take over the night.”

“Well now that I know there is something I’m going to to be spending the rest of the night wondering what it is!” Hanzo chuckled, popping one of the takoyaki into his mouth.

Genji looked at Hanzo for a few seconds and his breath huffed in his mask at little as he smiled. “Okay then... It’s about Angela. I think I want to marry her,” said Genji, “Well---actually, no, I know I want to marry her. I’ve been--Are you okay!?” 

Hanzo had inhaled on reflex at the word ‘marry’, got some katsuoboshi caught in his throat, and managed to suppress the cough for all of 3 seconds before turning red and unceremoniously hacking into the crook of his elbow while struggling to keep his takoyaki tray upright.. “Fine--” he coughed, “I’m fine.” He swallowed. “Just---are--are you serious?”

“Yes,” said Genji, “And I know you’ve only known her a couple months but I’ve been thinking about this a long time and, well, we’re not getting any younger, and with the fight with Talon...” he huffed, “I don’t want the fight with Talon to be this thing that stands between us. I know you don’t trust my judgment--”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust your judgment,” said Hanzo.

Genji blinked. “Oh.”

“She’s intelligent, she’s kind, she’s brave, and she’s principled. I haven’t known her as long as you, that’s true, but anyone can see she brings out the best in you. And you bring out the (frankly terrifying) best in her. You have my full support,” said Hanzo. 

“I...” Genji started and then chuckled a little, “Wow, I... I had this whole thing prepared about how I wasn’t thinking with my dick anymore and how I know myself and how I didn’t care what you said and I was going to trust myself and follow my heart and...” His breath caught in his throat and his eyes were wet and shining.

“Genji, you’re my brother and I care about you, but if you start crying, you’re going to put me in a very awkward positio--” Hanzo cut himself off as Genji hugged him. He tried to return the embrace as best he could while holding a tray of takoyaki.

Genji pulled out of the embrace slightly. “Sorry--I know you aren’t used to that. They’re pretty big huggers, Overwatch.”

“I’m more used to it than you think. McCree--well--” Hanzo caught himself and cleared his throat, “In any case, I’m glad you found someone.”

Genji clapped his shoulder. “I’m glad you found someone, too.”

The two of them walked towards the grassy park area where the first few plumes of fireworks were already popping in bursts of pink.

“Ponytail,” said Genji.

Hanzo craned his neck slightly and saw Mercy’s hair caught in a burst of green light overhead. McCree caught them in the corner of his eye and waaved them over.

“...You’re not going to ask her tonight, are you?” said Hanzo as they walked over.

Genji snorted, “Are you kidding?”

“In my defense I’ve known you to be very impulsive,” said Hanzo. Genji just chuckled as they closed the distance to McCree and Mercy.

[ladymagunaofiguanas]

Morgan Stark at Hogwarts

The children all huddled and walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

 Morgan had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Morgan looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.  

"It's bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it” Morgan heard Hermione mutter.

“In Hogwarts, A History" Morgan whispered. Hermione looked at her and smiled. 

“Morgan Stark, right?”

“Correct.” “You are American?” Hermione asked, and Morgan nodded. “I thought they went to different magical school.”

“I guess, I am a special case then.”Morgan replied and turned around to see her surroundings, until her name was called.

“Hmm, Morgan Stark I see,You have got a kind heart but you are too sarcastic. Hmmm... difficult. VERY difficult. Plenty of courage I see and wit that far surpasses any I have come across. Ahh...There’s a burning desire to succeed; an ambition that cannot be easily quenched, oh yes. But here beats a heart of gold, fast as a drum. Now…where shall I put you?”

Morgan squirmed in her seat, waiting patiently. She tried to ignore the whispers in the crowd and the expectant beady eyes from the onlookers that seemed to be steadily burning a hole into her skull. This must be a dream, right? It had to be! She even started to smell that putrid scent of burning rubber as if…

“FIRE! FIRE ON YOUR HEAD!!!”

The whispers turned into screams as Morgan threw the Sorting Hat onto the ground and stomped until there remained only the faint glow of orange from the embers that persisted. She looked around and met Dumbledore’s murky eyes which seemed just as, if not more heavy than Morgan herself. 

“…why not give it another go, eh?” someone shouted from the befuddled crowed.Morgan rolled her eyes at the vocal Slytherin. Typical. He probably thrived off of chaos and pandemonium. Behind him, a thin figure with sallow skin, dark flowy robes, and unmistakable greasy black hair slithered into view. He crossed his arms and smirked, revealing yellow crooked teeth.  

“Well go on then,” he egged on. “I have my wand at the ready”

Morgan hesitated but didn’t dare defy the Head of Slytherin. After dusting off the ancient hat, she gently perched it upon her head. Before she was able to complete one full cycle of inhaling and letting the air back out, the hat burst into flames once more. Snape, after lingering a few seconds too long for Morgan’s liking, cast the Extinguishing Spell. 

“MISS MORGAN STARK, TO MY OFFICE IMMEDIATELY”

McGonagall’s shrill voice echoed across the hall. The reverberations jolted Morgan into the present and she tailed the dark green robes envying the pristine black witch hat that lay atop it’s wearer’s head. 

“Now Miss Stark. I don’t know what happened exactly, but it appears that you have caused the Sorting Hat so much confusion that self-combusted”

Morgan was unsure what she could respond to when she had barely just stepped foot into Hogwarts, and decided to remain silent. 

“I’m afraid we will have no choice but to suspend you and send you back home until we know what is going on..”

As soon as Morgan was about to raise her voice in protest, Dumbledore marched into the hallway, catching his breath from having to catch up to the two.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Morgan can just live for a week in each house until she feels one is the best fit for her. After all, if we can ask the hat to choose which house we want, we should still be able to let our students decide for themselves. Morgan has done no wrong in my eyes.”

Finishing his monologue, Dumbledore turned away with McGonagall trailing him. Having been a diligent student in the muggle world,and remembering her uncle Steve telling her about the various houses at Hogwarts before she came, Morgan figured it would be best to start off with joining the Ravenclaws. She could compare the rest of her experiences to this one. A pleasant breeze drifted across the room and she was greeted with cobalt blue silks when she entered the common room. Students were scurrying about busily and the room was neatly divided between a quiet section and talking section. Morgan’s attention was drawn to the bulletin board in the quiet section, and she realized the students must be studying for the upcoming Hogwarts Mathematics Olympiad. She quickly signed her name in an empty slot as maths was one of her strong suits and found an empty table to call her temporary home. A few hours passed until a girl with straggly strawberry blond hair wearing black headphones tapped her on the shoulder bobbing her head to some unknown beat. 

“Hey it’s been four hours and I noticed you were still working! That’s some hardcore dedication.”

Morgan looked up sheepishly and explained the study “addiction” where time seems to move differently for her brain and thanked the girl.

“Morgan, right? I saw it on the heading of your paper. I’m Luna. Nice to meet you. We’re very excited you picked Ravenclaw house first by the way.”

Morgan, though kind, was somewhat wary of people. Good friends aren’t easy to find, but the more she chatted with Luna, the more she found herself opening up.She seemed very excited about Morgan’s childhood marveling at how Morgan was the youngest and was adored by those around her, and she was Tony Stark’s daughter.

“I am really excited for potions,” Morgan said happily.

“Wish McGonagall favored us,” said Harry. Just then, the mail arrived. About a hundred of owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during the breakfast, circling the table until they saw their owners and dropping the letters and packages onto their laps. A barn owl flew over to Morgan and dropped a bunch of letters in front of her.  Morgan smiled at the sight. “WOW!That's a lot of letters.” Commented Ron from behind her. “I have got a very big family, you see,” She replied proudly. “But aren’t you your parents only child?” Questioned Draco from the other side.

“Well, there aren’t my family but we are very close,” Morgan replied. “Guys, she lives with..” Fred said.

“THE AVENGERS!” George continued,

“It must be really cool to have family full of superheroes.” Ron exclaimed. “Imagine having a God as a friend.” Harry said grinning.

 When everything seemed perfect, an unwelcome thought intruded Morgan’s mind leaving her with a prominent scowl on her face. Of course, Luna picked up on it quite instantly. 

“Wrackspurts go in your ears?”

Morgan perked up. 

“No, I just shift moods pretty quickly. Especially, when I remember something out of the blue.”

“Aw, I was having a lot of fun today. So…what’d you remember?” questioned Luna. 

“That’s the problem. Today was so much fun.”

Luna looked at with a puzzled expression. Morgan noticed a wrinkle popped up above her left eye whenever Luna was especially thrown off. 

“I’m failing to see the problem here…” 

Morgan knew she wasn’t explaining well, but she felt kind of silly. 

“I just remembered that I’m not actually in Ravenclaw, I’m just going to be here for a week…I’ll have to spend three weeks in the other houses too. I know I might be jumping the gun here by feeling so attached to this house when I’ve just spent one day here and it was the first one. I know I could like the others better and I should give them a chance. I-“

Luna quickly sat up and shot her a smile and cut her off exclaiming, “Well you don’t have to worry about that!”

Now it was Morgan’s turned to borrow Luna’s puzzled wrinkle. 

“First off, you still have six whole days left here, but no matter. You can still tour the other houses with an open mind because of this-” she said holding up another flyer “The Hogwarts New Student Talent Show”  P.S: I was inspired to write by my friend, it was kinda a gift to me by my secret santa :)

[zarcake-writes]

Love of Three- Part 1

Hey everyone! This is going to be a Shiver!Reaper x reader x Pumpkin King!Reaper fic. The wonderful @fatedeniedhope had this great idea and commissioned me. Thank you for that. Hope you all enjoy!

Summary: The Pumpkin King throws his annual Fall party and you’re invited. Bored and eager to go home, you become the target of an unknown creature. And when everything seems lost, a certain masked figure in a blue coat comes to your rescue. 

Warnings: reader is attacked (nothing too bad) burn type wounds, comfort and fluff

The party is massive, filled with all manner of creature. Fae, demons, vampires, and every other known and unknown monster are gathered together. They are beautiful, with their flawless skin, bright eyes, and elegant posture. Even those that do not resemble anything humanoid are magnificent. The humans you see are sparse and vary in their class. Some are nothing more than pets, with their fancy collars and slightly wasted looks. Others are commanding, standing tall and laughing with others. And a few are like yourself, roaming the room, looking pretty and smiling. Simply entertainment.

The party is a mess of fall colors. So much orange, red, yellow, and brown. It’s like a fall wonderland, with pumpkins and gourds everywhere. Massive ones are piled against the walls while smaller ones are piled on the various tables around the room. Some are carved and floating in the air, candles burning bright in them. Others hang like lanterns, lighting the way for the guests.

The hall, where everyone is gathered, reminds you of a forest where the trees have been formed and manipulated into taking the shape of a building. The pillars are tree trunks, tall and thick, standing strong. The ceiling is a maze of interconnecting branches, covered in red, orange, and yellow leaves. They fall steadily to the ground and crinkle when you step on them. Even the walls are rough like the truck of a tree. Every few feet a branch sticks out of the wall, acting as a hangar for a carved pumpkin. It’s completely different compared to the outside, which is nothing more than a simple stone castle.

The guest’s outfits even match the hall’s color scheme and theme. Some are dressed in dark brown, with splashes of forest greens. Others wear orange and look like pumpkins. A few have been creative, wearing dark green and yellow, and carrying a lumpy gourd with them. Some resemble the falling leaves. But there are those refuse to wear the colors of fall. They stand on the sides, looking out of place or bored.

Even you match the theme, but your own outfit is a bit tamer than others. It’s a dark red floor-length dress that is see-through from the mid-thigh down. It leaves your shoulders and collar bone exposed; the sleeves wrap around your upper arms. Along your midsection is an assortment of white flowers and faded green leaves.

The realm is beautiful and the castle is magnificent. It’s probably the most beautiful place in all the fae realms you’ve visited. But you won’t tell anyone that, might cause offense and that will not end well for you. Well, if you meet the Pumpkin King himself you might tell him how beautiful his home is. But the chances of that happening are slim, he’s known for being reclusive, even at his own parties. 

The King throws these parties every year to celebrate the return of autumn to the mortal realm. His influence grows over the mortals, and it will continue to grow when winter comes. Whether that’s a good or bad thing you don’t know. But he never appears, at least you’ve never seen him.

You roam the outskirts of the party, a glass of water in your hands. The first rule of these parties is to watch what you drink, especially if you’re human. Some of the drinks are poison to humans, while others will make you wish you were dead. So, water is your chosen drink.

You scan the party, seeing a few of your colleagues among the crowds. They’re entertaining the guests, telling jokes or telling stories. You see one of your colleagues, a man whose name you forget, pull a horned figure into a dark corner. Entertainment comes in many forms.

You’ve been doing this entertainment thing for so long. Not technically a whore, but a little more than a jester, it’s exhausting. And as you sip your water, bored and tired, you wish you were in the room you called home. Well, the room is the closest thing you have to a home. You know deep down a true home, a place you belong and feel warm and safe, is not something for you. Odds are against you in that aspect.

Sure, you might have the chance to become some fae or other creature’s pet, but they always grow tired of you. The first few times it hurt, but after experiencing it for so long, it’s a normal thing now. They like you, dazzle you with their power and wealth, make you feel good, then you get boring to them. And then you’re back in that room, holding onto memories that meant something to you, but not to the fae.

As your observing the party, you notice a fae is watching you. He’s been watching you all night. Always near you in some way. If it was any other fae or person, you wouldn’t have noticed him, but something about him makes you uncomfortable.

He’s tall and unnaturally pale; so pale there’s a blueish tint to his skin. Even his white hair seems to have a blueish silver tint to it that changes depending on the light. And he hasn’t spoken to anyone. No nods or greetings. He isn’t wearing anything that shows what court he’s a member of, there’s no color scheme to him and no insignia. He’s not even matching with the color scheme of the party, just regular looking clothes.

A group walks between you and the fae, momentarily hiding him from you. When the group passes, he’s gone but you don’t feel relieved. You’re on edge.

Minutes later, you sense a presence beside you. Taking a deep breath, you turn and see the fae from before. Up close, he looks even more unsettling. His face is gaunt and sharp, his eyes are a shade of cold silver. He studies you, taking in your appearance. You want to roll your eyes when his gaze lingers on your exposed neck and travels down to your thighs.

After what feels like an eternity, he speaks. “Evening, miss. Are you enjoying yourself?”

You nod. “It is a fine party.”

“Just fine?”

You shrug and take a sip of your water.

“What are you drinking?”

“Water.”

He gasps. “Water? Darling girl, you must try other things.”

“I am content with water.”

“I insist you try something else.”

You study him for a moment. There’s something about him that’s off something in his eyes and the too-perfect smile on his gaunt face. While many faes you’ve interacted with are dangerous, he is something else entirely. Something cold and unliving.

“And I insist that I am content with my water.”

He frowns and leans in close to you. His hand wraps around your arm, just above your elbow. His touch is shocking, it’s ice-cold and it feels almost false. Like it’s not real skin. “I wasn’t suggesting, girl.”

“Let go of me.”

There are rules set in place when it comes to entertainers like you. Rules against harming you or forcing you into bad situations. The penalty for breaking these rules are strict and often harsh. Never has anyone broken the rules when it comes to you, until now.

He sneers. “You have no control here.”

With a sharp tug, the fae pulls you away from the party and into a darkened hallway. He pushes you against the wall and towers over you. In the hallway, away from everyone else, his silver eyes glow and he looks like a corpse. And when he smiles, it’s wrong. Too wide and twisted.

This whole situation went wrong so fast. Far too quickly. You push against him, but the creature is far stronger than you. When you try to kick the fae, it laughs a laugh that is so wrong. Your skin crawls and you open your mouth to scream. But the fae covers your mouth, muffling the sound.

“Shh,” the fae whispers.

You shake your head and continue to scream against his hand. When you continue to pound your fists against the fae’s chest, it begins to lean in. You clench your eyes shut and try to turn away. The creature’s laugh fills your head. It grows louder and louder until you think you’re going to scream when the weight against you is pulled off and the laugh is silenced.

You gasp and stumble away, back towards the light and sound of the party. Between you and the fae, is a figure in blue. The fae that attacked you hisses at the blue figure, but the blue figure growls back. After a moment, the fae runs into the darkness, limping slightly.

The figure in blue turns to you. They’re wearing a long blue coat with an owl mask. Strange vials are strapped to the figure’s chest. When you look down, you see the clawed gloves and the tight pants they are wearing. When you look back up at them, their head is tilted to the side.

“What was that?” you whisper.

“An unwanted guest pretending to be someone he’s not. Are you hurt?” The figure’s voice is low and deep. It sends chills down your spine and makes your mouth dry.

“N-no. I don’t think so.”

The figure steps forward and takes your bruised arm in his clawed grasp. When you look down, you realize the bruises look more like burns. Your arm is throbbing and burns, bringing tears to your eyes.

“I can give you a salve that will heal these. Is that ok?” 

You nod. The man opens up a vial strapped his chest and gathers some cream. Despite the claws on the end of the gloves, he’s gentle with you. The claws don’t scratch your skin. Even when he’s rubbing the lotion into the burns, he’s gentle. When you wince, he whispers an apology and lightens his touch. When he’s done, he closes the vial and places it back on his chest.

Your arm feels better, but the marks are still there. Ugly and slightly blistered.

“On behalf of the King, I apologize that you were hurt,” the man said.

“You know the King?”

“Yes. I am an advisor of sorts to him.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “What do I call you?”

“Call me Shiver. What may I call you?”

You think it over a moment then give him a name. Not your full name, just something that you go by. While there are rules against a fae or other creature taking advantage of you and your colleagues, it’s best to be on the safe side around fae. Especially ones you don’t know.

He repeats your name and holds his hand out for you to take. “Because of the foul experience, will you allow me to escort you somewhere more… enjoyable than this party?” 

You scoff. “Why should I believe you?”

He hums. “Because I am asking permission, not demanding. But you have every right to leave, though I hope you do accept my offer.”

You bite your lip and think. Take this stranger's arm and follow him somewhere away from the party or go back into the party and try to forget about what happened. This strange man called Shiver did save you from an unknown and probably horrible fate. And he did apply a healing salve to your arm.

After a moment, you nod and take his arm. His arm is thick and firm, larger than you expected. It takes you by surprise at how cool he is. It’s not just his sleek leather jacket that’s chilled, but there’s a coldness emanating from within the coat. From within him. Yet, unlike the monster from before, his coolness is comforting. Like when you sleep with a window cracked open at night beneath layers of blankets.

“Where to, Shiver?”

He laughs, low and deep. “To the gardens.”

Shiver escorts you back towards the party but slips down a different corridor. He makes a few left turns and then a right, then he stops in front of a large door. He releases your arm and turns to you.

“Cover your eyes.”

“Why?”

“It’s a surprise. Trust me.”

“Trusting a fae is not something I make a habit of doing,” you huffed.

He laughs. “Good habit. I haven’t hurt you yet, right?”

“No.”

“So, cover your eyes. Please.”

A deep breath and you cover your eyes. The door in front of you squeaks open and a cool gust of wind hits you, making you shiver. Despite the cool air and the unknown place, you keep your eyes covered.

Shiver’s cold hand rests on your lower back. His nails prick against your skin and dress, sending a chill down your spine. Yet, you don’t feel afraid. You’re comforted by his touch and the solid feeling of his hand on your body.

“Keep your eyes closed and step forward,” he whispered in your ear.

You stay quiet and do as he asks. With your eyes covered, you step through the threshold into the cool night, with a stranger beside you.

Only when the door behind you shuts with a thump does Shiver tell you to remove your hands. You do so slowly, unsure of where you are or what you will see. It might be something terrible or amazing, you never know with fae.

What you see takes your breath away. You stand in a large, beautiful garden, bathed in the white light of the moon overhead. Fireflies float around, and numerous strange flowers are blooming. Unlike the inside of the castle, the garden is mostly green. Green with splashes of colorful flowers: white, purple, blue, pink.

“This is beautiful. Everything is so green,” you said softly.

“The King is a fan of his oranges, yellows, and reds, but I like green. It’s a reminder of spring.”

“Are these his gardens?”

Shiver shrugs. “Yes and no. This is his realm, his palace, his home. But he didn’t have this garden built, I did. He never really comes out here, I do. In all honesty, he might not even know about this place.”

“You had this built?”

Shiver gives you his arm and walks you towards a bench. “Yes. This is my home away from home. My escape from the King, servants, and other faes. I spend my time out here during most of his parties.”

“Except tonight.”

“Yes, except for tonight. Which I am thankful for. Aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You look down and shiver at the memory. “Who knows what that thing might have done.”

Shiver cups your face and angles your face up. “That’s what lured me from the gardens, you know.”

“What did?”

“You in danger. I felt you, your fear and anger. You called me.”

You frown. “How could I do that?”

He shrugs. “Does it matter?”

“No, I guess not.”

You turn away from him and observe the gardens around you. Brick paths crisscross throughout the gardens, some seem to go on forever. While others seem to end abruptly at hedges or disappear behind trees.

“Would you like to explore?”

You give him a look. “Can you read minds?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, that I cannot do. But I can see you looking around, there’s a glint of curiosity in your eyes.”

“No, there’s not.”

“Yes, there is. So, would you like me to show you around?”

“I would, yes.”

Shiver stands and helps you up. He gives you his arm again and you take it. Beneath the cold leather sleeve of his jacket, you can feel his firm bicep. You wonder if all of him is as firm as his bicep. Judging by those tight pants he’s wearing, he is. Those thighs are thick and so very big; big enough for you to sit on.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

You nod and hope he really can’t read minds. Or feel how hot your body suddenly got.

The walk through the gardens is quiet, but it’s nice. Away from the loud party, and the suffocating heat that comes with it, the gardens are the perfect escape. Out here everything is calm and cool. The only sound is the wind rustling the leaves or the occasional hoot of an owl. If something scuttles through the plants, it sounds small and quick. Most likely a mouse.

Shiver doesn’t speak much. When he does, he tells you the name of the plants or points out a flower you have never seen before. Most of the flowers in the garden only bloom at night, and when the sun comes up the close back up. Apparently, some of the plants only flower when winter comes.

Every so often you glance up towards the man beside you. In the moonlight, he looks otherworldly. You notice his footsteps make no sound against the path, nothing. It’s almost like he’s floating across the gardens beside you. His coat shines and the moonlight reflects off his bone-white mask. He reminds you of a ghost.

As Shiver is escorting you down the main path, he turns right suddenly and takes you down a path you didn’t see.

“Where are you taking me?” you asked.

Shiver tilts his head to look down at you. “My favorite place in the gardens.”

“You have a favorite place?”

“Yes. And you’ll see why.”

When you come to the end of the path, there’s a beautiful clearing with a pond in the center. The brickwork beneath your feet is replaced with a stepping stone pathway. The stepping stones are old and worn, but solid when you step on them. The full moon overhead bathes the area in a beautiful white light. Fireflies float along the path and near the water’s edge. The entire area is hidden by trees and large bushes. The only way to get here is to follow that partially hidden path Shiver took you down.

“Wow, Shiver, this place is beautiful,” you said.

“Isn’t it? I come here a lot.”

“Is that why it’s hidden?”

Shiver laughs and nods. “Yes, yes, it is.”

“I can’t blame you.”

Shiver leads you to the water’s edge, careful to make sure you stay on the stone path. All along the water's edge are plants and shrubs. Floating on the top of the water are lily pads and white-water lilies. Unlike other water-lilies you’ve seen, these ones are glowing.

The water is so dark and still, for a moment you think it’s glass. It reflects the moon overhead and the fireflies floating above around the edge.

“The water is so still,” you whispered.

“Isn’t it?”

“It’s kind of scary.”

Shiver turns and faces you. He’s so close to you, barely an inch apart. And he’s so tall, that you need to look up at him. He takes your hands in his, his claws are gentle against your skin. When he speaks, Shiver’s voice is deeper. “Are you afraid of water?”

“A bit.”

He cups your face and whispers, “You don’t need to be afraid when I’m around.”

“Not even of creatures that lurk in the water?”

“Not even of them.”

His face is hidden, and the mask is blank and cold. Haunting and unsettling. But Shiver’s hands are gentle, even with his claws. And the way he speaks to you, so soft and sweet, it makes your heart pound a little faster in your chest.

“Will you like to sit for a while?” he asked.

“Yes, please.”

Shiver guides you to the bench and helps you sit. He heaves out a sigh and reclines into the back of the bench. His legs spread open slightly, but he leaves enough room for you to sit comfortably. Still holding his arm, you lean against him. Despite the chill that is constantly emanating off him, Shiver is solid and comforting. And it’s not even his body that is comforting, it’s everything about him.

You yawn suddenly and loudly. It makes you laugh in embarrassment and you cover your face. Shiver laughs and nudges you with his shoulder.

“If you want, you can rest your head on my shoulder,” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know. I might actually fall asleep.”

“It’s ok. I’ll wake you when the party is ending.”

You give him an unsure look. Shiver sighs and looks back towards the pond.

“The choice is yours. We have hours until the party begins to end. If you haven’t woken by then, I’ll wake you.”

“You promise?”

Shiver turns to you and is silent. He reaches up and takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “You have my word, flower. Nothing and no one will harm you. And when this party is over, you will head home safely. I swear.”

The severity of his words takes your breath away. Tears prick your eyes and you nod.

“Rest, my sweet flower.”

You smile and rest your head on his shoulder. Shiver pulls his arm out of your grasp and places it around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. Your eyes grow heavy and your breathing begins to slow down. As you’re falling asleep, you faintly hear Shiver’s voice, followed by another low, raspy voice.

You’re woken to someone whispering your name and shaking you slightly. You sit up, confused, and look around. Beside you is Shiver, he’s holding your shoulder and his head is tilted slightly. You glance up to the sky and see the moon is lower than you remember it was. A few hours must have passed.

“Hey, you feeling ok?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry I fell asleep on you.”

“It’s ok.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“A couple hours.”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.”

Shiver shakes his head and takes your hands in his. “It’s ok. Besides, who am I to complain when a beautiful woman falls asleep on me.”

You laugh and look away. “I’m sure that happens often for you.”

“True, but none of them are as breathtaking as you.”

You smile and look down at your hands. “Is um, the party still going on?”

“It’s ending. A carriage is waiting to take you home.”

“Oh, it’s ok. I’ll go with my friends.” 

Shiver takes your hands again in his. “The King has instructed one of his personal carriages to take you home and that I accompany you.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always do. But the King does wish to extend his apologies for what happened tonight.”

“Ok, it’s probably nicer than the one I arrived in.”

Shiver stands and escorts you back through the garden and into the palace. The hall is mostly empty now, save a handful of lingering guests. The servants are beginning to clean. Out in the front of the palace, a single carriage is alone. It’s shaped like a huge pumpkin; a hooded figure sits in the driver seat.

Shiver holds the door and helps you in. You tell him where you live, and he tells the driver. When the door is closed and you’re comfortable beside Shiver, he hits the roof of the carriage. It begins to move.

The ride is fast and you spend it curled up next to Shiver. His arm is over your shoulder, holding you against him. It reminds you of the bench you both sat on. Shiver’s quiet, but his fingers trail over your exposed shoulder. His touch lulls you to sleep.

You’re woken up by Shiver again.

“We’re here.”

He helps you out of the carriage and walks you up the steps of you’re the house you live in. He takes your hand and presses his mask to it, imitating a kiss. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, my flower.”

“You as well, Shiver. Thank you, for saving me again. And please thank the King for the ride and for escorting me home.”

Shiver stands and steps close to you. “I will tell him, but he still feels terrible for what happened to you. Consider this the start of his apology.”

“The start?”

Shiver laughs and nods, but doesn’t care to elaborate. “Yes, have a good night.”

“You too, Shiver.”

He turns away but turns back to you. “I almost forgot.” He reaches into his coat and pulls out a perfectly preserved bouquet of flowers. They’re flowers from the garden, beautiful and so sweet-smelling. “For you.”

“Are these from the King?”

“No, those are from me. He might be able to dazzle you with a carriage ride, but I thought flowers were more your thing. Are they?”

“Yes, they are.”

“Good. Though, I must say you are more beautiful than any other flower.”

You laugh and look down at the flowers. “Thank you, Shiver, for everything.”

Shiver nods. “Until next time, my sweet flower.”

Shiver turns and gets back in the carriage. The carriage rattle down the road and disappears, leaving you alone on the front porch of the house. You take a deep breath and head inside, Shiver’s words rattling around in your head. 

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E3; Chapter Three, Holly, Jolly - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Gender Neutral!Reader Series

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘠/𝘯, 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘈 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳.

WARNINGS: Mentions of [lots of] blood, and Troy being homophobic

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

El sits on the floor of Mike's basement, back to the couch. Candy wrappers and crumbs were scattered around a finished puzzle of a beautiful green forest. The strange plastic ship, floating in the air in front of her. It suddenly drops to the ground as her attention is brought to the Supercomm on the couch. She picks up the device and clicks it on, bored with the static that comes from the other end, she soon abandons the device and stands up.

She walks up the steps, eager to explore the house more. When she reaches the top of the steps, she cautiously peeks around the corner. When she decides no one is home and the coast is clear, she continues to explore the house.

With the house to herself, she had more time to linger, and appreciate and explore. It was fascinating to her, and yet it made her sad. Could she have had a life like this? She didn't know what to think when she admired every object, every picture on the wall. There was one in particular that caught her eye.

It was a small photograph, but you could tell it was important. It was another picture of Mike and his friends. Only, they were younger. They were playing and splashing around in the water, a lake it looked like, surrounded by beautiful green trees. Each of them had an arm wrapped around each other forming a line, and their pants were rolled up to their knees.

The young boy on the very left had messy black hair, who El immediately recognized as Mike. He was smiling brightly at her from the picture. A young Lucas to his right, who wore a rather proud grin. Dustin was looking at the two, more specifically Lucas; he had been laughing when the photo was taken.

Will, she believed his name was, had one scrawny arm draped loosely around Dustin, however, he had his full attention on a very cheery looking Y/n who stood proudly showing off a very small frog to the camera. They had daisies on their head, tangled in their hair, and a gleaming smile showed off a missing tooth. They were holding the frog so delicately.

But it wasn't Y/n, or even Mike that caught her eye. It was the way Will was looking at Y/n. His eyes held a certain fondness and appreciation, his smile warm and genuine. El tilted her head ever so slightly, thinking. Something deep inside her was gnawing at her, a feeling that was foreign to her. Shaking her head, she moved on to the rest of the living room.

She went back to the funny chair Mike had shown her and took a seat. She reached over and pulled on the lever, sending her back and forth as it kicked her feet out. She looked around curiously as the chair rocked her back and forth.

El noticed the weird device on the table beside her and picked it up. It was a strange curved thing attached by a curly wire. It had many buttons, every one of them had a number on them. It let out a strange noise, barely audible from the top. She brought it up to her ear to listen to the endless monotone hum. Not knowing what else to do she mimicked the tone, just for fun before putting it back.

She stood up from the chair and sat herself down on her knees in front of the TV. Curious, she ran her fingers down the side until she felt the button and pressed it. A brief crackle of static rang out and as soon as it came on it was replaced with the voice of an older man, the screen lit up in front of her.

"...was occupying a large part of Lebanon. Today, Syria has become a home for-"

Click.

El pressed another button.

The moving picture on the screen changed, where many bright flashes of color dance across the screen. A fake man with yellow hair held a sword as he exclaimed.

"I have the power!"

Click.

"...gift that will last forever. From the Harmony Treasures' collection-"

Click.

A beautiful melody came from the TV set and El's eyes widened in surprise.

Click.

"On the beach and in the sun"

El froze. She recognized the rolling tin can that appeared on the TV. Her breathing began to quicken as she fought the memories back.

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

The all too familiar humming and beeping of the machines echoed off of the cold, isolating walls. Eleven sat at the same table, with the same camera facing the same window with the same adults who watch her and study her. Nothing was new, and she feared nothing ever would be. All she wants is to get this over with. Wanting to get these damn wires off of her head.

Yet, she sat still, compliant, unmoving. Never taking her eyes off of Papa as she watched him hand the clipboard to one of the men and give her a nod of his head. She turned her head and attention to the small Coke drink. Her eyes bore into the empty can and she concentrated.

Her head shook ever so slightly as she focused, straining. It was difficult, but she was able to do it. The can caved into itself with a loud 'crack' and it wasn't until the monitors stopped did she realize how loud they had been. She looked back to Papa, looking for his approval.

He stood unmoving, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. She felt her nose run damp, a warm liquid oozed from her nose. She blinked, confused and slowly brought her hand up to her upper lip, realizing she was bleeding. She looked to Papa, expectantly. He only smiled a cold empty grin.

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

"Coke is it! Coke is it!"

El quickly pushed the first button, shutting the TV off. Breathing heavily, she stood up and made her way to the basement.

||𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

My back was beginning to hurt from hunching over for so long, but nevertheless, I continued looking. Lucas needs ammo for his wrist rocket, so naturally, the four of us were currently scouring the schoolyard for rocks.

"How about this one?" Mike asks, walking up to Dustin.

Dustin examines the rock Mike handed to him.

"Too big for the sling." He shrugs, tossing the rock to the grass. "So, do you think Eleven was born with her powers, like the X-Men, or do you think she acquired them, like... like Green Lantern?"

"She's not a superhero. She's a weirdo." Lucas says as he searches for that.

"You don't know that," I mumble, Lucas, however, doesn't hear me.

"Why does that matter? The X-Men are weirdos." Mike adds.

Lucas turns to Mike, agitated. "If you love her so much, why don't you marry her?"

I roll my eyes, and straighten up, stretching out my back.

"What are you talking about?" Mike sighs.

"Mike, seriously?"

"What?"

"You look at her all, like... 'Hi, El! El! El! El! I love you so much!'" Lucas teases, grabbing Mike in for a hug before getting down on one knee. "'Would you marry me?' I'm telling you, man, you're just as bad as Will!" He stood back up when he said the last—

'Wait...What?'

"What?" I asked, completely thrown off.

The boys freeze, Lucas especially. Lucas excluded, the boys all look at me with awkward smiles on their faces. Dustin chuckles and gives a still frozen Lucas a few pats on the arm.

"Good job, man. Real smooth."

"Guys, what is going on?" I asked exasperated, crossing my arms.

"Shit," Lucas whispers, closing his eyes.

"Lucas..."

Mike wears a triumphant grin on his face and looks expectantly at Lucas.

"Yeah, Lucas. Tell him."

Lucas sighs, and stiffly turns around, his change of attitude dramatic. He looks around once or twice before growing stern with me.

"You, and Will?" He suggests.

"What about us? What does that have to do with— Oh come on... You can't be serious. He does not like me."

"Literally everyone knows he is totally in love with you." He scoffs.

I scoff in return. "Love? Don't you think you're being a little dramatic? Not to mention, ridiculous?"

"Am I wrong?" He turns to the boys, who hesitantly shrug.

He turns back to me, a look screaming 'There you have it.'

"That doesn't prove anything! We're best friends! So what if we're close?"

He laughs. "Yeah, just as close as Nancy and Steve! And you're no better. You just haven't realized it yet."

"W-What? W-what ar- No!" My words are caught in my throat and I felt my cheeks begin to burn.

'No, I don't!'

It takes moments for me to recover. "Okay, let's say you're right. Let's say he does love me. How can you know for sure, huh? It's not like he told you!"

"Uhh, yeah! Might as well have. He didn't deny it!"

My heart stops, and I feel butterflies erupt in my stomach.

'Will? And me?'

"Look what we have here!"

'Oh, God. Not now.'

I roll my eyes and before I can stop myself I speak. "What do you want, Troll?"

My eyes widen at my sudden boldness but I remain confident. I stare down the two boys who have been bullying us for as long as we've attended this school.

"You better watch your mouth, freak-"

"Back off!" Dustin yells, cutting him off.

Troy looks over to Dustin, looking prepared to throw more insults at my brother but something changes his mind and he cools off. A smug smile tugs at his lips.

"Or what?" Troy spits.

Dustin falls silent, and Troy continues.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. What are you losers doing back here anyway?"

"Probably looking for their missing friend." Troy's goon laughs.

Anger begins to take over and my blood starts to boil.

"That's not funny. It's serious. He's in danger." Dustin immediately cuts in.

"I hate to break it to you, Toothless, but he's not in danger. He's dead. That's what my dad says."

'Where's that damn rock?'

"He said he was probably killed by some other queer."

I feel a lurch in my chest, and I can practically feel my vision going red.

"Come on. Just ignore them." Mike soothes, not only to me but to Dustin and Lucas as well.

He's right. I need to get out of here. I storm off, ready to shove him in the shoulder as I pass but suddenly I feel something catch my foot and I fall to the ground. A sudden wave of searing pain explodes on my chin when I hit the ground.

Dazed and confused, I push myself up enough to see a large, rather bloody rock just inches from my face.

I groan, rolling over on my back, I hear laughing and frantic footsteps.

"Y/n!" Dustin and Mike run over to me, Lucas storms up to Troy.

Dustin and Mike each grab an arm and help me sit up. I hesitantly bring a hand up to my chin and I hiss in pain. I look at my fingers and they are absolutely covered in blood.

'Holy crap.'

I groan and look to Lucas worried. He stands firm and tall, right up in Troy's face.

"Leave us. The fuck. Alone." He says through clenched teeth.

My eyes triple in size, surprised by Lucas's actions.

Troy and his friend laugh and walk away. Repeating Lucas in a mocking voice.

"You okay Y/n?" He reaches out his hand.

I gladly take it. However, I get a little lightheaded as I stand. "Shit, that's a lot of blood."

I look down and I see splots of blood already sprinkling my shirt.

'Great. This will be easy to explain to mom.'

"You still have that first aid kit?"

I close my eyes, sighing.

"Crap. No. I left it at Mike's."

"We better get you to the nurse's office then."

"No, I-I'm fine." I sigh, wincing at the pain.

"Are you sure? You're bleeding, like a lot." Mike says.

"Yeah, I'm good. As long as I stop the bleeding, I'll be fine... My body has always been able to heal quicker than most, anyways."

"They've got a point. I've seen it."

I offer a small smile. "Well, I at least better go get a tissue or something. I'll be right back." I say.

The boys nod, and I head off to the bathroom. My mind wanders back to what Lucas was telling me earlier, and the weird feeling in my stomach returns...

[munofsilver]

Stuck In Between Chapter 3

Another hit on @gaalee-bingo bonus car 1. This prompt is for Soft. Ao3 link here. Summary: Gaara and Lee find out more about each other while another yokai comes to visit, and Gaara's tail goes maximum floof. 

With the four kapps now home, Gaara closes the opening to the yokai world. Before he opens the way for Lee, the tanuki cleans up a bit. Putting things away and dusting. Done with his work Gaara is unable to get Lee as he wants. With his big tanuki ears, Gaara hears the chime that tells him that someone wants to pass through. When Gaara opened the way, a young human-looking female with extremely long brown hair tipped with needles of different sizes, pure white eyes, wearing a yellow and green summer pattern kimono walked out. 

“Matsuri, what brings you here?” Gaara asked, closing the portal. 

“Business and a visit,” Matsuri chirped. 

She drops the bundle she was carrying. She smiles as she opens it. Bring out a small box of thread and place it on a rock. Gaara transforms the rock into a table for her. The next thing she pulls out is some black fabric. Matsuri puts it down next to the box. Now ready, she looks up at Gaara with the same smile she always has. 

“I know that day is coming up. Like last year you wanted me to make you an appropriate attire, I assume you want me to again this year,” Matsuri finished putting her bundle away. 

Gaara knows this will take a while. He doesn’t want to keep Lee waiting. Lee is the strangest human he has ever met, and Gaara wants to know more about him. Matsuri is a yokai, but she works with humans as well as yokai. Maybe now would be a good time to see how Lee would react around other yokai. 

“Gaara, is something wrong?” Matsuri asked when she noticed Gaara was quiet for a while. 

“Nothing is wrong. You are right. I do wish to have a new attire. First, I need to do something,” Gaara gets up and opens the wall, and enters, leaving a confused Matsuri alone. She starts to worry about Gaara. 

In the room, Lee sees lots of human things. The room is full of stuff all piled in the center. He noticed a small white and pink folding fan with sakura blossoms on it through the pile. He remembers this fan. She has had this fan since she was a child. It is the fan that he. Lee tosses the fan away from him towards the other side of the room. He hated her and what she did to him. Why is that fan here? Lee sold it to a merchant that was passing through town. He said it would be a perfect wedding gift for his sister. 

That was six years ago. Lee digs into the pile again. He finds all kinds of things books, more folding fans, a deck of cards, some pictures in frames, and even some makeup .that’s used. Lee was too busy in the pile that he didn’t notice Gaara entered until trying to reach something on top caused him to fall. He landed on something soft, fluffy, and furry. 

“Are you all right?” 

Lee looks down to see that Gaara’s tail has grown in size and got even more soft and fluffy than before. Lee slides off the tail, and it returns to normal size. Gaara rushes over to Lee to make sure he’s alright. 

“That was the softest thing I have ever felt,” Lee whispers. 

Gaara turns away to hide his blush. His ears can hear everything. Sometimes he hates that. Sadly for him, Lee saw the blush but lucky for the tanuki, the human doesn’t say anything about it. He just smiles and thanks him. 

“Thank you for saving me.”

“You’re welcome,” Gaara faces him once the blush is gone, “I have a guest over, and it might take a while before you can leave this room. I just wanted to warn you.”

“Thank you for telling me. I should be fine here. Before you go, where do you get all these human things? Some do look personal,” Lee points to the big pile with some little ones around it. 

“When a human marries a yokai, they have to live in the yokai world. Before the day of the wedding, they have to give up their human life. That means never return to the human world unless with their yokai lover and leave all their possessions behind. Even wedding gifts from their human families,” Gaara picks up a tea kettle and places it back in a pile. 

Lee feels bad for those humans, but he’s sure their yokai lover would have said something. Even if they agreed to it, that is still a lot for a human to give up. 

“The human leaves everything here in between the human and yokai world. As the guardian, it’s part of my job to make sure these things never return to the human world. Before you ask if these things would return, then humans may know who these things belong to and go looking for them.” 

Lee can understand. He bets it would be bad for a human to get lost in the world of yokai. Can a human even enter the yokai world on their own? Soon the wall opens up, “Gaara is everything alright? You have is that a human?” Matsuri screams. 

Lee is frightened; he has never seen a yokai like this before. She looks human except for her eyes and hair. That ends in needles. Lee slowly moves behind Gaara, hand on his knife just in case. Gaara’s tail starts to grow again. Matsuri only grins. 

“Tell me, Mr. Tanuki Kun, why is a human here?” She looks over the growing tail towards Lee, “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I worked with many humans.” 

Gaara’s tail starts to shrink, and Lee sides step out from behind him. Lee bows, and Matsuri does the same. Her grin turns into a little smile as she turns her focus on Gaara. 

“He’s staying here until the rain stops,” Gaara crosses his arms. 

Matsuri looks Lee over, making a clicking sound before leaving the room. Gaara follows her. He turns to Lee and singles for him to follow, and he does so. Matsuri brings out a blank scroll, she waves her hand over it, and words appear on it. Along with a picture of Gaara in human form, in his undergarments. Lee had to look away. n

Gaara glares at Matsuri. He was told she wouldn’t use that image on the scroll. Matsuri couldn’t help herself when she saw it. Nothing is going to make her change it now. She reads the scroll over to make sure she got what she needed. With a snap of her fingers, the scroll goes blank and back in her komodo. Moving over to the fabric, she grabs Gaara by the collar of his yukata.

“I know you want black again. What fabric do you like the most?” Matsuri leads Gaara towards the fabric she has on display, “Last year you liked the fleece one. Do you want to use it again this year?” 

Gaara looks over the fleece one, which was soft and warm. Great for the cold. Sadly as soon as it got wet, it didn’t end well. Since the rain is not going away by that time, Gaara looks past the fleece. Touching the silk, he seemed satisfied. It seems light and able to get wet. With his claws, he picks up the silk and shows it to Matsuri. 

“You want the silk one. Sure thing. I can have it done by tomorrow morning at the latest,” she turns towards Lee, “Now for you.” 

What does she want with him? She floats on over to Lee Landing right in front of him. Looking towards Gaara, Lee can see he is glaring at Matsuri. His claws and teeth are on display as a warning. That does help Lee calm a bit. It seems Gaara will protect him. Now Lee wonders why. 

“I need to take your measurements. So I can make some new, better fitting clothes,” Matsuri smiles showing her sharp black teeth. 

Lee relaxes. Glad to know she only wants to help him. Gaara also relaxes and lowers his guard a bit. Matsuri shows her measuring tape and lefts up Lee’s arms. She takes a few measurements. 

“As I thought these clothes were for an adult human male about 6 feet 3 and full of muscle in his upper body. Not so much, his legs. You are indeed an adult human. You seem to be a little under 6 feet, and your whole body is muscle. Mostly in your legs,” Matsuri spins Lee around a few times, “I can tell these clothes are those that belong to a palace guard. I see the symbol of the royal family. You don’t look like a guard. How did you get these clothes?” 

Gaara’s ear perks up. He didn’t know those were from the palace. Maybe he shouldn’t have let Lee stay. Why would a guard be out in the rain? The more Gaara knows about Lee, the more he wonders about this strange human. When Lee entered the cave, he looked like he’d been running for a while. The fact that Lee took off his shoes meant that his feet hurt. Looking down at Lee’s feet, he still hasn’t put the shoes back on. It seems Gaara is not the only one to notice. 

“If you want, I can make you some shoes as well? Guard shoes aren’t meant for everyday wear,” Matsuri points at Lee’s feet. 

“Thank you, Miss.” 

“My name is Matsuri.” 

Lee looks at Gaara and nods in return. 

“My name is Lee. Nice to meet you.” 

“My my aren’t you a nice human,” Matsuri smiles, showing her teeth again. 

Lee gulps. Those teeth look like they can ripe his flesh off in minutes. Lee remembers hearing that some yokai like to eat humans. 

“You looked worried. Don’t tell me you think I eat humans,” the female yokai rolls her eyes, “Let me tell you I have been working with yokai and humans for over 300 years. I have never seen a yokai eat a human. Yes, some do drink human blood but never eat human flesh. I don’t know where you humans got that from.” 

“I told you before humans are wrong about yokai,” Gaara crosses his arms once more. 

Lee remembers Gaara adding, “For the most part.” He will let it pass. The young human is glad to hear that no yokai has ever eaten a human before. He is curious about the drinking blood part. Matsuri leans in closer to Lee so only he could hear. She knows how to make it, so Gaara’s big ears can’t pick up what she is saying. 

“Are you a palace guard? Don’t say anything, only nod or shake your head.” 

Lee shakes his head. When he escaped, his friend Hinata brought him some new clothes to wear and the lantern. His other friend Tenten gave him her knife and shoes. Neither of them had time to find something that would fit him better. Matsuri nods her head. 

“Do you want me to take your measurements in private?”

Lee glances over at Gaara. By looking at the tanuki’s face, he’s not happy he can’t hear what Matsuri says to Lee. Lee knows that he needs to be out of these big clothes for her to take proper measurements. Without them on, he would be like that picture of Gaara on the scroll. Lee shyly nods his head. Matsuri takes his hand and leads him to the wall. She opens it and walks in, closing it behind her. They were back in the room full of human stuff. 

“I thought only Gaara could open the way,” Lee stated. 

“Every yokai can open the way to this room. Now let’s get started, shall we?” 

Gaara is waiting for them. He has an idea of what’s going on in there. At the same time, he wants to know what they are talking about—more about Lee in general. When Gaara gets nervous or concerned, he tends to play with his tail, which is what he’s doing right now. He stops once the wall starts to open, but he’s still holding his tail. Both walkout Lee is wearing some green bodysuit (like the one he wears in the show) and a yellow belt, with black open toed shoes. Gaara knew Matsuri was fast but to make all that in a few hours, she had to use some of her powers. 

He is right. Matsuri used some of her hair as thread to help make the clothes faster. She also uses her hair to help with the sewing to speed things up. One thing Matsuri loves about her hair is being able to control it and use it to help sew. So she can take on many projects at once for like a wedding. 

“I must go now. I have your new attire to work on,” Matsuri bows to both Gaara and Lee. 

Gaara opens the way for her, and she leaves. Meanwhile, Lee was looking over his old clothes, wondering what to do with them. He’s currently holding them; then, he decides to leave them in the room with the other human stuff. Gaara closes the wall behind Lee. Right now, Lee is full of joy. He never had an outfit made just for him. He took one look at Gaara and saw something odd. 

“Gaara, you’re tail is all snarl looking. Do you need to brush it?” 

Gaara looks at his tail and wags it a bit. His playing with it before must have made it messy. He normally doesn’t care, but he does have a brush for it. Mind as well use it. 

“That does sound nice. I have a brush for it,” Gaara gets the said brush and hands it to Lee. 

Taking the brush, Lee starts to brush Gaara’s fluffy tail. Lee is very careful as he brushes Gaara’s tail. He was making sure not to go too fast or hard with every pass of the brush. Lee pets the tail with his free hand. Gaara seems to like it as Lee can hear him purring. Can tanukis purr? It doesn’t sound like a cat’s purr, but Gaara is purring. It’s a low soft purr that makes Lee smile. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed. 

Now done with brushing, Lee hands Gaara back the brush. Looking over his tail, it’s now more fluffy than before. Still smiling, Lee laughs, causing Gaara to look at him, confused. 

“You have a very soft tail, Gaara. With how fluffy it is, I bet it could be used as a pillow,” Lee stops laughing, “Can I still pet your ears?” 

Gaara nods and lowers his head. Lee gently rubs Gaara’s ears and pets behind them. Gaara lets out another low purr as he closes his eyes. He never thought he would like getting his tail brushed or ears petted, but he very much enjoyed it and was a bit disappointed when Lee stopped. 

"You have soft ears. I say they are softer than your tail,” Lee comments. 

Gaara blushes a little and turns away so Lee can’t see. Looking outside the cave, Gaara does see a bit of moon poking out. He goes and transforms the leaves into the blankets and bed. Like before, Lee takes the blankets and makes the bed. He hums that tune again. Lee gets into bed while Gaara attends to his garden. Once the tanuki climbs into bed and pulls his covers up, Lee turns to face him. 

“Umm. Gaara, can I. Can I hug your tail while sleeping? I like your tail. It was so soft, and it helped keep me warm.” 

“S..sure,” Gaara brings his tail up towards Lee. 

Before Lee could hold it, Gaara made it grow bigger so Lee could use it as a pillow. Lee hugs the tail and buries his face in its fur. He smiles with a yawn. 

“Thank you, Gaara. Good night.” 

Gaara stares at Lee, “You’re welcome. Good night.” 

Before he lays down to sleep, Gaara watches Lee. What are these feelings he’s having? He never lets anyone touch his ears but his siblings, so why did he let Lee? Why did he even offer in the first place? Gaara thinks about all his questions until sleep takes over him.

[boarix]

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part XX

Call My Name

Trigger Warnings: canon violence/gore/language/gun, drug and alcohol use.

 ......

Deacon and Wraith had finished placing the MILA at the construction site in Cambridge and were taking stock of ammo and equipment before heading back to Railroad HQ. Deacon was especially eager to move along as the building was tall and they were still at the top. Wraith was nonchalantly lounging in a chair with its deposed super mutant owner lying at her feet. She had no idea he was acrophobic, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“You almost ready, boss?” He kept his tone light, “You’ve been staring at you’re Pip-Boy for a few days now.”

She made a circular motion with her right hand, “I’m trying to see if there isn’t a quicker way back then there was to…” She interrupted herself by laughing, “a few days?” She smiled up at him, “You in a particular rush?”

“My rush isn’t so particular, just feels too open here. If I were a sniper I’d be there,” He pointed helpfully, “or there, or there. Isn’t this fun?”

“Okay, okay…” She continued to stare at her screen.

“Whisper, it’ll be dangerous to climb down in the dark. Which is soon…�� He shuffled closer to her while purposefully dragging the soles of his sneakers, “I’m also starving. Can we stop at the Fast Food?”

She chuckled, “We have food at home.” She stood and stretched, “I think there’s a way to get over to the freeway from here. I want to go check it out real quick.”

He frowned dramatically at her, “But I’m hungry.”

She reached into her pack, grabbed a small package wrapped in cheese cloth and tossed it to him as she walked, “Here. It’s fruit leather.” She pulled one out for herself but rather than eat it she sniffed and frowned at it, “This batch is too heavy on the carrots. I miss bananas. These would have better with bananas. Or I could make chips! Mmm, banana chips.”

Distracted by her melancholy, for a brief moment he forgot his fear. Balling up the entire strip, he clowned for her by shoving it into his mouth, “Mmfp. Sfo… thereshf im brogdgg nofp wha?”

She snorted and laughed, “If you’re asking me about a bridge… kinda?”

His fear was back.

The gap between the building and the freeway was only about 6 or 7 feet. It was bridged by road sign that looked fairly secure, but to Deacon it might as well have been miles. His arms twitched up reflexively as Wraith skipped across.

“I’ve been meaning to see if there was anything good up here. Since it’s so out of the way I thought there might be an armored truck… Are ya comin’?” She leaned back in to view, eyebrows tented and lip sticking out, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’ just… how long do you suppose this has been here?”

“It’s pretty solid, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You didn’t hardly step on it.”

“You’re just as light on your feet as me. Don’t try to jump it.” When he didn’t immediately move, she offered him an out, “Or, you can just hang tight for a sec, I shouldn’t be long.”

“No, no. We’re partners; I go where you go.”

He tried to take it in two large strides, but with his vision marred by vertigo, his second step landed heavily on a rusted edge and the whole piece gave way. Wraith lunged to grab his hand, yelling his name. Swinging forward, he yelped in pain as his right hip was punctured by exposed rebar. Hearing his cry, Wraith didn’t immediately pull him up for fear of causing further damage.

“Are you hung-up? Can you free yourself?!”

“I’m… going… grragh… to try…” Though he knew it would cause a flash of intense pain, he reached up to hold her hand with both of his. He took a few deep breaths to recover. When he tried to pivot to push off with his left foot, the pain was too intense and he felt a surge of panic. “I can’t!”

“Are you cut?! I can’t … I can’t see.”

Screwing his eyes shut he tried to calm himself, “I got stabbed. It’s not super deep but this… I don’t think I’ll be able to talk my way out of this one. Ha hahaha!”

“Deacon, look up at me. You are going to be okay. I won’t let you fall. Let go with one hand and see if you… don’t shake your head!” She smiled and lowered her voice, “I’m very strong, Deacon. I promise I won’t let you fall. Trust me.”  

“I…” He swallowed hard, “believe you.” Bolstered by her smile he let go and set his free hand against the girder. Screaming through the pain he brought his foot up and pushed off with both limbs. “GGGAAAARRRKKKK FREE!”

Wraith yanked him up next to her as if he were a prized catch at the end of a fishing line. He immediately dropped to the asphalt and was very noisily sick off the side of the bridge. Wraith ignored his retching but made assorted unhappy noises at the hole in his hip that was in fact very deep and bleeding a lot.  

“You liar, you’re a goddamn shish kebab!” Quickly she gave him a one-two punch of Med-X and a Stimpak. When he made a small noise of protest against the painkiller she growled at him, “You hush! Being in pain slows healing.”

“And being on chemsh makes me shlow everything!” The lightning-fast med already had him stumbling over his words.

In the midst of her tying a temporary bandage, yellow-green lightning split the sky which set the Geiger counter on Wraith’s Pip-Boy to ticking madly. A rad storm was approaching fast. “Oh, for crying out loud!” Glancing around fearfully, she spotted a semi-trailer. Popping Deacon up and over her shoulder she made for the truck and set to work picking the lock.

“No, noooo NO! Danger! DANGER AGENT WHISNMPERS!”

“Yeah, yeah; ‘never open a new can of worms while cleaning up the first’. Look, I need to get you inside someplace!”

Tipped on its side, the trailer’s interior was narrow but devoid of monsters. Wraith gently lay Deacon down atop the scattered shipping tubs and glanced around for an additional light source to supplement her Pip-Boy, “Keep pressure on it, I’m going to hop back and grab some of those lanterns…” Once she returned she pulled shut the truck’s cargo door and got out her knife. However, when she turned back to Deacon he was nowhere to be seen. “Did you just… are you using a Stealth Boy?!”

“I don’t want you t’ cut my jeans!”

Blinking rapidly, she looked down at her combat knife and then back up to where his voice came from, “Deacon… you might bleed out! I’ll make you new pants!”

“Imma try to get out… OW! Huuurrgn… of them…” Failing, he phased back into view with a miserable expression on his face.

“There’s nothing wrong with showing a little leg. Or… a lot… damn, Deacon.” She made an attempt to school the worry from her face as she worked, “Looks like you’ll need to wear skirts for a while.”

“I have the calves for it.”

She couldn’t disagree, “Actually, you have better legs then me. Turn a little more on your side…”

“Why don’t you like the way you look? I think you’re pretty.”

“Well, I think you’re pretty too, Deacon. So I’ll throw that right back at you; why do you want to change your face again? Seems a more… dramatic solution than sticking on a false mustache. What’s th’ matter? Can’t grow facial hair?”

“I grow the best bneards you’d ever shee!”

“I’ll take your word for it. Anyway, I like the face you’re currently wearing.”

He was touched and even with his chem addled brain he knew the conversation was getting dangerously close to things he wasn’t sure he wanted her to know. It was time to change the subject, “What’s that? Brobzzs… Brave… Bavarian… Bob’s Best Moonshine?”

Wraith had pulled what looked like a liquor bottle out of her pack, “Oh, no. Curie gave me a lecture on how terrible alcohol is for wounds. So, I’ve been trying to carry soapy water instead. Buuuut,” She soaked a clean rag and gently wiped at his injury, “I don’t think she realizes that soap is way more rare out here then booze.”

Satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, she helped the now shivering spy into a sleeping bag and made for the door. “I’m going to go see if there is a quicker way down from here. I want to get you back to HQ and Carrington ASAP.”

“Jump down would be fastnerest.”

“You tried that already…” Her spirits sagged as she jogged along the short span of crumbling road. Then, they suddenly skyrocketed when she noticed there was a scaffolding lift on the very edge of the partially destroyed highway, “Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!”

The storm had passed so when Wraith returned she put Deacon’s pack in the sleeping bag with him and cinched the opening until only his face showed. She shouldered her own pack and then bent to pick him up as well. She had thought he was asleep until he started giggling.  

“He heee; imma worm.”

“Oh, Deacon, you’re my favorite.”

……

……

……

“HANCOCK!” MacCready watched in horror the ghoul dropped to the pavement and writhed about while clutching his head. Fearing he’d been shot, the sniper pushed away from the feral citizen he’d been trying to subdue and rushed to the mayor’s side. “What?! Tell me…”

Hancock gaped; opening and closing his mouth like a fish trying to breathe air. His eyes bulged and were completely unfocused.

“She’s attacking him! Radiance!” Fahrenheit wanted nothing more than to throw herself off the balcony and rush to her father, “Pick him up or drag him if you have to but move him away from the bar!”

MacCready stooped and hooked the ghoul under the armpits while Magnolia grabbed his legs; both calling for the Watch. They only made it a few steps before multiple ferals burst from the Third Rail and charged them. The sniper dropped to a knee and set Hancock down as softly as time would allow. Telling the singer to pull Hancock toward the Memory Den he unholstered his sidearm and started an attack of his own. Aiming for their legs as he dodged their swinging arms, he lured them away. Twisting and turning, he danced just out of their reach and quickly cut them down.

“HELP ME!    

Surprised by Magnolia’s desperate cry, MacCready whipped around and then stood frozen by what he saw. Hancock had lifted the singer off the ground to chest height and was viscously shaking her back and forth in the air. Like a terrier with a rat.

Thinking quickly, the young man took aim with the syringer and hit the ghoul in the neck with a dose of Pistol Whipped. The effect was almost instantaneous; Magnolia was released and the two dropped to the pavement. As he jogged toward them past the entryway to the bar, MacCready was hit by a powerful shockwave of radiation that swept him off his feet and hurled him through the window of the offices across the street.

Radiance seemed to almost float above the ground as she moved to where Hancock lay. Determined to claim him as a prize, her blazing eyes were fixed on his face. She was confused why she lost her hold on his mind and curiosity drove her to edit her own plan, act directly and leave the relative safety of the Rail. As she crouched and reached out to touch his brow, a shot rang out and she felt burning pain as a .44 bullet tore through the palm of her clawed hand.  

When MacCready stepped back through the shattered glass, he was terrifying to behold: blood steamed down his face from a multitude of lacerations, and his cerulean eyes were a promise of death, “You can’t have him.”

The glowing one rose to her feet, turned up the heat and sent out another blast of energy. MacCready suddenly found himself in the midst of revived, legless ferals. They pulled themselves after him, snarling. Dodging, he continued his assault on their mistress but found that her radiation was both acting as a shield as well as healing any damage he managed to inflict. He was getting dangerously close to cursing loudly.

“MACCREADY, GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Fahrenheit had returned to the balcony, this time armed with a minigun.

Even as the gun began its spin up, Radiance decided to make a tactical retreat. Sending out a psionic call, she dashed back into the Third Rail with her few remaining minions trailing behind.

……

……

……

“Hey, Glory; think fast!”

The Railroad heavy easily caught the beer that Wraith tossed to her. “It’s cold! Where’d you get this?”

Wraith set a cooler on the floor and pulled a chair up next to where the synth was sitting, “I’ve a buddy in Goodneighbor.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

Wraith held up another and gently rocked it back and forth in Tinker Tom’s direction, “TT, come have a brewski with us!”

The Railroad engineer’s eyes lit up and he quickly walked over to them, holding both his hands up toward the booze the entire way, “Oooh, presents!” He took a swig and made several, almost inappropriate, noises of appreciation. “Well, don’t that beat all?” He smiled down at her, “Where’ve you been, Whisper? We missed you.”

She did a quick survey of the room, “Doc told me that Deacon needed some time and Hancock had mentioned a friend of his needed work so I’ve been dragging this kid around with me while I do Minutemen stuff.  I see my partner isn’t here resting, like he’s supposed to be.”

Glory made an indelicate noise, “Nope. Though if Carrington catches him out, working with that injury…”

“Doc’s just itchin’ for an excuse to holler at our boy D.”

“You called?” With an almost imperceptible limp, Deacon, dressed in Gunner camo, crossed the room from the backdoor tunnel and leaned rather heavily on the center map table. He set down the sniper rifle he’d been carrying and frowned at the three of them, “Doing some day drinking, are we?”

Wraith flashed him a bright smile, “It’s gotta be five o’clock somewhere.”

“Yeah, D! Don’t be such an old lady, man.”

“You know, I briefly was an old-lady man. It worked out pretty well too.”

Glory laughed, “I admit that was a good one. No one ever suspects a little old woman. I’m surprised you didn’t keep her going longer.”

“It was hard on th’ back.”

Wraith popped her chin at his gun, “What have you been up to?”

“Now that I know that lift is stable, it’s a great spot for… observation.”

“I think someone had told me that area was a good spot for a sniper.”

“Well, whoever that mysterious stranger was they sure were brilliant as well as handsome.” He felt a flutter in his chest when Wraith smirked while giving him a toe to crown look of appraisal. She smiled into her beer and blushed slightly when she saw that he caught her and this in turn caused all matter of mental alarm bells to start shrieking at him.

NOT GOOD! VERY BAD! STOP FLIRTING!

“So what brings you in today? You want me back on deck, huh?”

“Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Yup! Fit as a fiddle.”

Glory rocked her beer back and forth at him, “That’s not what Carrington said.”

“Pfft, Carrington… I’ll have you know that I went to Amari for a second opinion and she said ‘Deacon, please leave. You are underfoot and I am too busy.’”

Wraith laughed, “You were probably in Goodneighbor the same time I was.” She paused for a second when she saw Deacon’s brow twitch. “Actually I came to let you know that I need more time. Desdemona says there’s nothing for us right now and this kid, MacCready, I think he might really need my help.”

“Yeah. Help. Right.” Deacon shouldered his rifle and turned brusquely away, “I’m going to report to Dez. See you ‘round, Whisper.”

Tom patted Wraith on the back, “Don’t take it to heart; he’s just sore he has to share you.”

……

……

……

The Minutemen had made it to Goodneighbor in record time. A temporary field hospital had been erected and several of the Dragoons, wielding Gatling guns, were stationed in and around the Third Rail. Hancock was still unconscious and MacCready was holding one of the ghoul’s hands while a medic worked on the lacerations on his face.

“You shouldn’t have to worry about scarring. The derma-fuse works really well on glass cuts like these.”

MacCready mumbled his thanks, his eyes on Hancock.

The medic tried to reassure him, “Dr. Amari says his brain looks no worse than usual… erm… I’ll make sure you have a dose of Radaway…”

“No need,” Magnolia interrupted, “he’s the Mayor’s boyfriend. I’m sure he’s on a suppressive dose of Rad-X.”

MacCready chuckled, “That’s really funny, actually.” Then, when he realized the medic hadn’t gotten the joke he rolled his eyes, “She’s kidding. Yes, I need a bag of Radaway.”

Magnolia was wearing a neck brace and had dark circles under her eyes. She sat on the ghoul’s opposite side and took his other hand in hers.

“You’re not scared of him?”

She frowned at him, “Of course not.” She smiled tenderly down at the sleeping mayor, “I owe Hancock my life. He’s protected me here for years, and I know he would never hurt me willingly.” Her face hardened, “Am I crazy or did that wretched hag go for him specifically?”

“That’s what it looked like to me. I think this whole attack was meant to secure him.”

“Why?” Fahrenheit had ducked under the tent flap and stood at the foot of Hancock’s gurney. She looked tired and worried, and it carried in her voice, “Also, no Wraith? Why would Radiance come here herself without her strongest piece? It’s a move that makes no sense.”

“Not everything is chess.” MacCready had a warning in his voice, “Wraith isn’t a queen and we aren’t all pawns!”

“I never said you were all pawns; Hancock is at the very least a knight.”

“THIS ISN’T A GAME!”

“Uuhhg, MacCready, are you yellin’ some more?” Hancock made a halfhearted attempt to sit up before collapsing back onto his pillow, “Someone catch the brand on the brahmin that stamped my head last night?”

MacCready, all but sobbing in relief, embraced the ghoul and kissed him soundly, “I had to shoot you with the syringer. It scared the sh… crap out of me!”

“You shot me? Why?” He brought a scarred hand to his forehead, massaging it as he tried to remember, “What happened? How long was I out? I remember I was holding Curtis… damn. Everything’s all backwards.”

“You’ve been unconscious for about four hours. Radiance came up through the Blue Line into the Rail. We all seem to agree that she intended to leave with you.”

“I saw Wraith!” Hancock sat up quickly, his headache momentarily forgotten, “It was just a flash but…”

“What do you mean? She was here?!” MacCready stood up and made as if to leave the tent.

Hancock waved him back down, “No. No, I saw her in… she was someplace dark… her eyes… I think I saw her when the glowing one had me.” He shook his head, wincing, “That sounds crazy, even for me.” He gave MacCready a wan smile, “I’m sorry I’m no help…”

“What does she want with you? What does she want with Wraith?” Frustration gave an edge to Fahrenheit’s voice, “If we could figure out what the hell her endgame is, we could make a more efficient counterstrategy. Wraith is in the dark? Well, so are we!”

Hancock nodded, “We need to be proactive and not reactive. Right. Call Curie. She might want adjust the dosage on Pistol Whipped and I want to brainstorm with Nicky so better call him too. Oh, and give me the names of all my people who didn’t make it or are still feral.”

……

……

……

“Are you trying to sneak up on me, Whisper?”

“Well, kinda.” Wraith sat cross-legged next to Deacon. She had gone to Railroad HQ in search of him only to find that her partner was once again AWOL. The broken freeway was the next place she checked.

“Trying to impress me?”

She stuck out her lower lip and dipped her chin, “Yeah.”

Her admission surprised him as well as stoked his ego, “Well, I’m sure with a little more practice you’ll be half again as good as me.”

She laughed, “Thanks, teach. I love what you’ve done with the place, by the way.”

Deacon had set up a small lean-to on the upper level, tagged with the railsign for “cash”, “Yeah, I’m glad I found it.” He had brought up a beach lounger and now, in an attempt to appear casual, leaned back with his arms folded behind his head, “So, what’s up?”

“I’ve gotten a really good lead on Shaun…” She paused when Deacon abruptly sat up and leaned toward her, “Hancock and I are going to look for an Institute scientist… in the Glowing Sea…”

“The Glowing…” He didn’t even bother to hide the concern on his face, “You’re taking Hancock?”

“Yeah, well, he’s…” She floundered, looking for the right words, “a ghoul.” she finished, lamely.

“He’s also not exactly Mr. Dependable.”

I should not be this jealous!

“I don’t know, Deacon; he’s been really supportive and helpful. He’s a good friend. Besides, I know how much you hate power armor. I promise I’ll share any information I get with you and Dez.”

“My hip is all healed, Whisper. I want you to know that you can depend on me too.”

Shut up! Shut up, shut up shutyourstupidmouthyoumoron!

Wraith’s forehead creased and she leaned away from him, “Oh, no! It’s not that! Hancock was with Valentine and me… he asked to go. I know I can count on you. Really!”

“Regardless of power armor, I would have gone with you to the end, into the very fires of Mordor.”

Wraith sputtered for a moment before tilting her head back and laughing, “That was just perfect! You know, I think you and Hancock would get along really well if you tried. You both like the same books, apparently.”

……

……

……

Infamy watched Radiance leave with an escort of ferals. Having firmly established where the other glowing one’s limit of irresistible influence was, Atom’s Assassin hid in the caves the host was occupying; waiting for just such an opportunity. With most of the ferals left to wander freely throughout the expansive catacombs, Wraith’s guard consisted of only one bloated glowing one and a few reavers.

“If I can pull you away…” At war with themselves, the ghoul couldn’t decide if they were there to try and rescue Wraith, or destroy her. “Hmm, what would Atom do?”

Pushing their will onto the reavers, they caused them to swarm the bloated one until the assassin could put their knife through its eye. As they turned back to Wraith they jumped involuntarily because she had stood up and begun to growl.

“You’ve smelled better, Sister Wraith.” Another choice popped into their head, “Or… you could be mine. Perhaps the Mother has chosen you to be a harbinger for Infamy!” They cackled wildly in excitement, “Ha! Ha haha! Hmm, mustn’t get carried away, now. First things first…” Filled with narcissistic confidence, they sent a blast of psionic energy at Wraith’s mind. Fully expecting her to be knocked off her feet, they were shocked and irritated when they hit a solid mental wall. “What is this? We should be well outside of mommy’s range!”

Wraith flexed her hands menacingly as her growl deepened and grew louder. Then with shocking speed she sprinted for Infamy. When the ghoul tried to sidestep away, she anticipated the movement and hit them with backhand that nearly sent them across the room. Recovering quickly, the glowing one sent their captive reavers to trip her up, giving them time to put more distance between them. Strangely, Wraith didn’t kill the attacking ferals but only pushed them down and away.

“Hmm. Mommy doesn’t want you to kill your siblings, ey? Well, that works for me. Let’s see if we can’t tear down that wall, hmm?”

For several long moments the group danced back and forth across the rocky floor. Wraith seemed tireless and occasionally she would knock the ferals down long enough to attack Infamy. Regretting having destroyed the bloated glowing one, the assassin found that their utter lack of progress was filling them with fear. It dawned on them that without the reavers, they may have already been killed.

“Damn you!” They hissed, “Damn you, you beast!”

Suddenly the ferals and Wraith looked up at the cavern ceiling and froze. They stood motionless for a few moments before they all started snarling. Then, Wraith put her hands up to either side of her helmet and cried out. Still clutching her head, she stepped away from the reavers and began groaning what sounded like a name. Infamy edged closer to try and hear.

“Hann… Hn… Han.. Hancock…”

……

“Remember, Wraith’s appearance will most likely have changed and she will undoubtedly attack us. Do your best to evade and aid MacCready in lining up his shot. If injured, fall back immediately! We cannot afford a bottleneck or blockage that may prevent access to the cages.” Danse took a deep breath, “Do not exit your power armor for any reason! Assume the radiation levels to be at lethal levels throughout the vault. You few have been chosen for your exceptional levelheadedness and steady aim. If spotted, you are to shoot the glowing one known as Radiance on sight. Do not hesitate, and shoot to terminate. There isn’t a soul here who hasn’t been saved or comforted by Wraith. Now, ARE YOU READY TO RETURN THE FAVOR? ARE YOU READY TO SAVE THE COMMONWEALTH’S SAVIOUR?!”

“WE ARE READY!”

“COMMONWEALTH HEAVY DRAGOONS, ADVANCE!”

After much deliberation and investigation it had been decided that Vault 88 was the most likely location of Radiance’s stronghold. A large Minutemen battalion, arrow headed by a small taskforce of the Dragoons, MacCready and Strong, led by Danse, stood just beyond the rim of Quincy Quarries finalizing the plan of attack. However, the operation was as much recon as it was rescue, due to the simple fact that there wasn’t a way to enter the vault without one’s presence known to the possible hostel force within.

Hancock had been furious when MacCready had told him to remain in Goodneighbor, “Like hell I’m going to sit at my bar while all of you are out here…”

“If I have to shoot you again, I will!”

A compromise was reached when Hancock agreed to hang back with the main force. Though, he watched the preparations like a hawk and made several of the Minutemen nervous. And he wasn’t the only one. Strong had taken to pacing back and forth through the encampment, swinging his super sledge, Smashy, while muttering murderous things to himself.

Hancock stood next to Preston with his arms crossed, tapping his foot irritably as Danse’s group disappeared into the cave that led to the vault’s entryway, “Not a bad speech. We sure nine of ‘em are going to be enough?”

Preston frowned at him, “Nine? There were only eight assigned including Strong.”

“Well, I know I have fewer brain cells than when I was a smoothskin, but I can still fucking count! There were eight suits!”

……

She could feel something. Something that wasn’t Radiance. Her mistress’s light shown so bright in her mind that normally that’s all that there was. But now, there was a smaller light. It annoyed her. Like the incessant whine of a mosquito just outside your window. You know that it can’t get in, but your skin crawls nonetheless.

She growled at it. It persisted.

She pushed it down and threw it away from her. It persisted.

She could feel something. And there was now a crack in her shield.

……

Infamy was furious.

They had fallen back when it became apparent that Wraith couldn’t be obtained by head-on force and when Radiance returned, they had found themselves a protected nook just outside of the danger zone. There they meditated: focusing all of their will onto one spot in Wraith’s protective barrier. And just when it seemed that they had a breakthrough, Danse’s team came stomping by.

“Never a moment’s peace!” They pulled their hood close and dimmed their light as much as possible to avoid being spotted. “So close. Well, I can’t follow them… we will see how this plays out. Dammit.”

……

The ferals seemed endless as Radiance sent wave after wave at the Dragoons. Because she had sentry ferals posted at the entrance, her response had been almost instantaneous. The group was equipped with rifles rather than Gatling guns to avoid accidentally mistaking Wraith for an enemy and mowing her down. MacCready hung back, spotting for them as much as possible in the near darkness, grinding his teeth in anxious frustration. Strong repeatedly called for Wraith, the desperate cries for his alpha echoed throughout the vault. Though it adding to the bedlam, no one shushed him.

The suits of Danse’s team were modded for melee and with Strong clearing multiple enemies with each great sweep of his hammer, conserving ammunition wasn’t their highest priority. As such they initially pushed forward with relative ease.

Well past the area that had been developed for settlers, the floor’s slope angle pitched sharply and as the taskforce descended their Geiger-counters began to tick with increasing rhythm.

Danse checked the map on his integrated Pip-Boy, “There’s a large, open area coming up. Don’t let them flank you.”  

The tunnel banked ahead of them and the group could see an ominous glow from the chamber beyond. Rounding the corner they fanned out across the entrance in the face of a sea of powerful feral ghouls.

“STRONG SMELLS ALPHA!”

As if on cue, a group of charred and bloated glowing ones separated from the main host and rushed the taskforce. All but unseen, Wraith was in the center and using the brutal attack as a screen, she slipped behind the group and started ejecting cores. She got through half of them before they even realized she was there. Once she pulled MacCready’s core she threw it into the middle of the chamber, and as if it was a signal, the rest of the feral mob began its swift advance.

They hit the group hard. Not anticipating the loss of fusion cores was a crippling oversight. Literally. There was some attempt to close ranks as they fought to put a wall at their back. Danse, having more experience maneuvering in depleted cores than most, called out encouragement and direction as he reduced feral after feral into green goo with his plasma rifle.

Strong left the group; foraging ahead in an attempt to locate Radiance. Less concerned about securing Wraith, his goal was to kill the glowing one who had taken her away.

Wraith’s appearance was shocking: her fast-growing hair was already long enough to protrude from her helmet in a filth-ridden fringe and her once silver-grey armor was blackened by blood, offal and fire. Snarling viscously, she turned back to MacCready after throwing his core and hit him in the back of the knee before leaping into the air and double kicking him in the chest. As he crashed to the ground she straddled his breastplate and punched him repeatedly in the helmet.

Bringing his arms up to shield his head was all MacCready could manage, stunned and low-powered as he was. He had no way of engaging the tesla field now that his fusion core had been ejected and no hope of throwing her off let alone righting himself. As she swatted his defense away, his vision blurred and the metallic taste of his own blood blossomed on his tongue, an image of Duncan flashed in his mind.

Suddenly, Wraith was whisked away as a taskforce member grabbed her from behind and lifted her off of him, “MACCREADY, GET UP!” They struggled mightily with her as she braced her feet on their breastplate and tried to kick off. When it became apparent she couldn’t free herself that way she tried slamming the back of her head into their helmet. Shock caused them to loosen their grip enough for her to free her arms and she began pounding on theirs. Realizing that they could potentially kill her if they held on any tighter, they took her to the nearest corner and dropped her in it.

Her retaliation was savage. However, the team member still had their core and so was able to block her lower leg and knee attacks. Even as she rolled between their legs, they turned quickly enough to prevent her from ejecting their core. Adapting quickly, she leaped, grabbed their gorget and used the leverage to pull herself up and onto their shoulders. Hooking her fingers underneath the edge of their helm, she tried to remove it; pulling and twisting as if trying to unscrew the lid on a particularly stubborn jar of pickles. They reached up to grab her but she grabbed their arm instead. Then, throwing herself toward the ground, she was able to pull them off balance enough to cartwheel them over her and send them crashing to the cavern floor in an unceremonious heap.

I’M LOSING! I’M IN POWER ARMOR AND SHE’S GONNA KILL ME! FIGHTING WAS A POOR CHOICE!

“PIPPA,” her name ripped from him in anguished desperation, “PLEASE!”

She stopped mid-charge. She tilted her head slightly then brought her bloodied hands up and briefly rested her fingertips against her temples before slowly lifting her helmet.

“Oh… oh, no.”

Her face was greatly emaciated and she had large, deep scabs where her helm had rubbed her skin away. Her sunken eyes, made all the more pronounced by her now jutting cheekbones, were missing their normal inner light and flickered back in forth as she searched for something recognizable in the armored figure before her.

“Pippa, it’s me. I…” he choked on a sob, “I came back.”

“De… Deac…” Wraith stopped and crumpled to the ground; a syringe of tranquilizer protruding from the back of her neck.

……

Radiance’s self-preservation had won out. Retreating further into the connecting maze of sewer and metro tunnels, she was escorted by a dwindling pack of her ferals. Strong had got her in his sights and was on her like a bloodhound. Taskforce team members had made attempts to call him back but to no avail.

“Leave him be.” Danse waved their concerns away, “Let us hope, for Wraith’s sake, that he is more than up to the task.”

MacCready carried Wraith out of the vault but hesitated when it came to putting her in a cage, “I know I said this was a good idea…”

“If she wakes up and you’re still holding her she’ll tear your head off.” Deacon’s eyes were red rimed and there wasn’t a trace of his normal humor in his voice, “Put her in the cage or give her to me and I’ll do it.”

“You don’t get to touch her.” MacCready stared him down, “You. Left. Her.”

Hancock, unchecked tears streaming down his scarred cheeks, held his arms out, “Let me. I want to hold her first anyway.” He kissed her forehead and gripped her tightly to his chest, “It’s alright now, sunshine. She… she don’t hardly weigh nothin’.”  His legs gave out and he collapsed to the earth; rocking her back and forth, sobbing.

Once secured in a cage, they used brahmin and moved Wraith to the basement of the former Peabody home. Now a fully equipped Minutemen safe house, it was far enough from settlements they were somewhat less concerned if Radiance was able to evade Strong and launch a counter assault.

Curie, with Piper acting as nurse, carefully cut Wraith out of her armor and bathed her. All the while making sad little gasps and sighs at her sores and how terribly bony she was.

“Oh, Blue…”

Curie hooked her up to IV fluids and was able to get a few bags into her before she woke up. Naturally, the first thing Wraith did was to pull the catheter from her arm and throw it away from her.

“Oh, Madame! Why must you always pull out my lines?!”

Wraith, her eyes wild and unfocused, snarled at her and rushed the bars. She pulled on them experimentally to the point where the metal groaned in protest, but when they proved immovable she stepped back and stood in the center of her cage. Her eyes dulled and she was motionless except for the occasional owlish blink.

Over the next several days her friends came to see her and each time a new person came into the room she would hiss, snarl and try the bars. The exception seemed to be Hancock. Instead of her usual violence, she tilted her head back and forth as if she was trying to see him better. She wouldn’t move closer to him nor let him touch her and MacCready yelled at him for putting his hand in her cage to try.      

The only one who hadn’t been in to see her was Deacon. He had disappeared soon after Wraith was secured. Hancock was surprised and a little disappointed and MacCready felt guilty. The sharpshooter wondered aloud if his outburst had “run him off”.

“I doubt it. He’s gotta be skulking around here someplace. Heh, now he’s back we’re never gonna be fully rid of him, you feel me?”

Deacon hadn’t been by because he was hunting. Harkness’s report had contained a description of Infamy and unfortunately for the ghoul, Deacon placed 90% of Wraith’s condition squarely on their narrow shoulders. He had spotted them in the caverns of Vault 88 and again when they followed the rescue team to the safe house. He lost track of them soon after but now he stalked the haunted ruins of Quincy like a vengeful ghost.

Infamy was torn. They had very much wanted to follow Radiance but knew that, lacking the strength to resist her, they’d end up much the same as Wraith. They had followed the rescue caravan with no clear intention and retreated to the Quincy ruins to meditate. They settled themselves in the church there for some serious introspection. It dawned on them that they may have slipped from Atom’s path and been following the light of their own hubris instead, “Mustn’t stray like Marie did. Oh, no! Who is Wraith to you, hmm? Should I save her? Should I kill her? Hahahahaha!”

“Laugh while you can.” Deacon’s disembodied voice reached the ghoul a half second before his knife did. Although buried to the hilt, the strike pierced their bicep and wasn’t intended to be a killing blow. He wanted them to hurt.

Infamy instantly cranked up the heat and sent out a blast of radiation. This in turn caused Deacon’s Stealth Boy to malfunction and he phased back into view on his next attack which allowed Infamy to dodge. Dressed in a hazmat suit, he pursued them out the doors and into the street, taking several shots at them as they ducked into Guns Guns Guns, and cursing softly when he missed. Fully expecting an ambush, he ran in after them anyway. He blocked their knife attack with his own blade and shot them point blank in the shoulder. They sent out another blast that staggered him backward and pushed him off his feet. Rolling sideways, he tried to shoot them from the ground but his pistol misfired.

“Oh, what’s wrong? A little radiation got you down? Toy doesn’t work? Too bad.”  They threw a knife and exalted when it stuck in Deacon’s blocking arm, “Should know better than to bring a gun to a knife fight!”  

Their victory was short lived. Deacon pulled their weapon from his forearm as he vaulted to his feet and threw it right back at them. Using it as a distraction, he closed the distance between them. Easily ducking under their knife swing he slammed his fist into their ribs. They flinched backward, bringing a knee up before stomping down toward their opponent’s foot causing him to involuntarily back away.

Deacon knew he only had a few seconds before the glowing one could hit him with another pulse and he wanted to capitalize on the delay by staying close and inflicting as much damage, without killing them, as possible.  As such he appeared to step into the ghoul’s roundhouse, but in a blur of fluid motion, blocked their hand down and brought the back of his hand back up and into their chin. Hard. This resulted in two things: one, their teeth to sliced into their tongue and two, they decided they didn’t want to fight him anymore.

“I gggan haave her!” Their irradiated blood flowed freely from their mouth and they could hardly speak around the ruin of their tongue, “I gan ring her ack.”

……

“ABSOLUTLY NOT!”

“NOT ON YOUR LIFE!”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!”

Danse, Preston and MacCready’s protests overlapped as they shouted at Deacon. The Railroad agent sighed and turned to Hancock, his pale blue eyes pleading.

“I think I want to stab them in the neck more than I want to…” he turned to face the glowing one directly, “How many goddamn people have you fucked over to mess with Wraith?!” He pointed at Danse, “You see him? He’s a friend of mine and you shot him in the fuckin’ face!”

Infamy’s mouth had already healed and they pouted like a child being scolded, “Oh, poo. It’s no fun to have your failures thrown back at you. Besides, I didn’t actually pull that trigger…”

Danse leveled his plasma rifle at them, “Yes, well, you damn well better believe I’ll pull this one.”

Deacon held up his hands and boldly stepped between them, “Whoa there, big dragon. We all know how tough you are.” He brought his palms together as if praying, “This could be the only way to undo what Radiance did to her. I want my friend back.” He swept his hands out to either side, including all of them, “Don’t you fellas want her back?”

Danse looked at the bandage on his arm and lowered his gun. “For the last time; it’s ‘Dragoons’. And of course we want her back. The entire commonwealth wants her back, but we have no guarantee that this villain will actually help her. There is no promise they can make that I will trust.”

“I am but a humble servant of Atom. If it is His divine will that Wraith be spared…”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear it.” MacCready put his hand on Hancock’s chest, “I can’t listen to this crap anymore. I’m gonna go and feed her and relieve the girls. Whatever you decide, I’ll follow.” He glared at Infamy as he left the room.

The ensuing argument gained volume when Piper and Curie joined in and lasted for the better part of an hour. Curie’s sticking point centered on whether or not they would be able to get an accurate reading from a memory lounger if Wraith was doped out of her mind on chems.

“We simply must learn the extent of any and all damage to her brain!”

Piper had her face in her hands, “Yeah, doc, but how are we going to do that if she’s trying to kill us the whole time?”

“I don’t want to see her strapped down, but…”

“Hell no, Garvey,” Hancock folded his arms, “the cage is bad enough.”

In the end no real decision was made beyond incarcerating Infamy and shelving the argument until Dr. Amari arrived. They radioed Fahrenheit to ask that the doctor join them and locked Atom’s Assassin in the spare cage in an outbuilding. Afterward each went to their separate corners to stew.      

“Shaved th’ beard but you haven’t changed your mug yet.” Determined to not let him sneak away again, Hancock had followed Deacon outside.

“My guy’s in Boston. Hadn’t worked out a new one yet.”

“Sunglasses are off, yet yer still lying.” The ghoul took a long drag on his cigarette and blew an exceptionally large smoke ring at him, “I’m thinking you can’t bring yourself to do it.”

Deacon folded his arms and forced a smile that would have been convincing if it had reached his eyes, “Oh? Is that right? So tell me, oh enlightened one, why that is.”

He brought his hand up, index finger extended, to eye level and then slowly tilted his finger down and out to point at him, “That face belongs to someone that Wraith loves.”

Hancock might as well have shot him in the heart. He stood shocked into speechlessness.

“Now, I see that got ya.” Hancock’s eyes softened, “Things been different… well, they ain’t. You screwed yourself, son. But if she loves ya, there must be something good about ya. I gave Danse a chance and I gotta say I kinda love that kid.” He flicked his cigarette away, buffed his fingernails on his waistcoat and examined them as he continued, “You’re an asshole, but I’ll put up with ya for her sake.” He slowly brought out his knife and started juggling it; rotating and spinning around and through his fingers expertly, “You need to go and see her. Don’t try to run away again. I’ll find ya.”

Deacon stood outside on the small lawn while the sun went down. He remained until the lights in the house had been extinguished and he could hear the various snores and sighs of Wraith’s sleeping friends. He turned to leave but on his third step he stopped.

There was a lantern in the corner of the basement. Its low light cast a warm glow on the cold steel of Wraith’s cage. She had been lying in the nest of blankets she had made on the mattress they gave her, but stood up when she heard Deacon come down the stairs. She didn’t rush the now slightly bent bars, but stood and tilted her head back and forth much the same way that she did for Hancock. The bath and a few days of heartier food and clean water had done her some small amount of good and she no longer looked undead. He stared at her hair; now just long enough to curl, it appeared bronze when a ringlet caught the light.

“It’s almost like it was when you came up…” He stopped and swallowed hard before trying again, “I hate that you love me. I hate that I allowed myself to fall in love with you. I hate that I left the lean-to up on purpose, knowing that you’d find it. Knowing that you were smart enough to know what it meant. So that even though we loved each other, we would never be together. Because, how could you forgive me? But..” His breath caught as he sobbed and tears ran freely down his cheeks, “but… you did. You did. But now things were different. You thought that the tension between us was a lie. You thought that any minor flirting comment I made was just… another kind of lie. That I never imagined kissing you freely or holding you in my arms because, we were ‘just friends’. That I winced when we touched because I had Haphephobia, and not just because that I cannot allow myself to enjoy it.” He sat on the floor next to the cage and reached out to her, “Pippa, please hold my hand.”

She flinched when he said her name. And after blinking rapidly for a few minutes she open and closed her fists and then sat down facing him. She came no closer but her eyes we fixed on the bandage poking out from his sleeve.  

“I thought that if I left I would stop thinking about you. But, it turns out I lie to myself more than I lie to anyone else. Harkness told me to retire, but if I can’t have you and I don’t have work then I have nothing.” He sighed deeply, climbed slowly to his feet and headed for the stairs, “Hancock was right; I screwed everything up.”

“De…”

At first he wasn’t sure he had heard her and when he turned back she was still sitting on the floor and staring at where he had been sitting, “Wishful thinking…”

“Don’t… leave...” She lifted her chin and met his eye, “Deacon… don’t… leave… me.”

......

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