#I almost died laughing at the air pods prompt

[mulling-over-milgram]

Oh wait happy birthday!!!!!

I should've followed you after garlic phone...

thank you! Happy birthday to you too in advance for the 22nd!

[bonsaiiiiiii]

FabFiveFeb 2021 - Virgil week

prompts: a question, “I don’t understand”

here is my offering for FabFiveFeb 2021, and naturally it’s Virgil week! this chapter is quite short, a sort of...opening, if we want to put it that way (the prompts will appear in the next chapter, don’t worry if you don’t see them right now!). big thanks to @gumnut-logic for the challenge and the prompts, and to @louthestarspeaker for a general review! @nourelle-tracy here’s the whumpyy you requested. if you want some sneak peeks on the next chap pm me!

^to make it short, read this under the cut^

Another day, another rescue.

This time it was a suspended hotel in the mountains on the verge of falling and, as if that wasn't enough, there was also an armed civilian threatening the people inside. For the second thing the GDF would take of it, but the first one was an International Rescue mission.

So there were Virgil, Gordon and Scott at the site of the incident, deciding a way to at least block the hotel and evacuate all the people inside, shooter included. Jeff and John were speaking with them through hologram.

"So this massive building above you is the Heavens' Residence, and it's well known for being suspended between two mountains by a particular structure and for being the biggest in the world. Sending you the blue prints now."

Virgil studied the structure for a bit. It was mostly all corrugate and carbon steel, so resistant, and it caught support by leaning on the two mountains with many large 'claws' leaning into the rocks, like spider legs. The damage was in one of these spider legs: something fell from the top of the mountains, maybe a subsidence considered the damage, and it bent the claw. That's why the whole structure was falling, if just one if those are missing or defective it all falls. A good plan but a bad execution. "The damage is pretty visible and clear," he looked up at the bent claw above him, "we have to try and keep stable that claw, so we can evacuate everyone."

"Not until the shooter is escorted out by the GDF. We just received the signals: one less life sign." Jeff interrupted Virgil's plan sternly.

"We don't have time to wait for the GDF! They don't have time!" Virgil protested.

"I agree with dad. He could even hurt us, and we can't keep risking more lives to fall." Scott agreed with Jeff. "But it's still true that if we don't act now they're all gonna die nevertheless." He got silent for a bit, thinking of a plan through the situation.

"What's the deal with him tho?" Gordon asked curiously. "Does he shoot people randomly or has he got a motive behind this?"

"His name is Santiago Lopez, all I know about him is that he's married with a certain Louise. It seems that what triggered Mr. Lopez was seeing his wife with another man." John answered calmly.

"Scott," Virgil captured his big brother's attention. "let's stabilize that claw for the moment, then we'll think about the guests inside."

"Very well. We'll have to use the pods. Gordon?"

"FAB." the squid kid intercepted the subtle message, heading along with Scott inside Thunderbird 2 and preparing 2 pods. After not long they were already on 2 helipods,  flying up to the claw and starting immediately to stabilize it with some stabilizing foam.

Virgil in the meantime kept thinking of a way to get up to the guests. He looked at the elevator crashed on the ground, considering it wasn't the best option. He looked up for a while, to then contact John.

He answered immediately. "What's the problem, Virgil?"

"How long would it take me to climb up to the hotel's entrance or even a window?"

John opened his mouth to protest, noticing where this was going, but he eventually closed back his mouth, doing some mental calculations. "Considering the highness I would say about 20 minutes. You just need to take the exo-suit."

"I'm far beyond you, brother." Virgil laughed while putting said exo-suit on, already into his Thunderbird.

"But Scott and Gordon will be done soon, can't you wait for them?"

"It takes a whole lot of time to climb up there, you said it. And while they're stabilizing I can get inside and try to help whoever has to be helped." he stopped when he heard another gunshot in the distance. "Kinda off topic, but where is the GDF? We  would need a hand of help from them."

"5 minutes ago they said they were on their way. But-" the redhead paused for a second, "Dad won't be happy if he discovers you disobeyed his orders."

"He won't know." Virgil replied impatiently. People come before anything, it was a rule.

"You're playing with fire, I tell you that." John said before disappearing. Virgil huffed, and climbed his way through.

It didn't take long for him to get up to the entrance of the hotel and get inside safely. The vision that presented itself in front of him was almost grotesque: the bodies of the two lovers were laying lifeless on the ground, and if he had to explain it to his brothers later he would say that the 2 bodies were reduced to a colander. He could clearly sense the disgusting smell of vomit, even through his helmet; seems like someone has a sensible stomach. Well, the sight was horrible, so it was justified. The woman, Louise, was caucasian but tanned, while the man was maybe Cuban. They were both unrecognizable in the face.

And speaking of others...where were they? He looked quickly around him, and he saw many people hidden behind counters, tables...they were all shaking and trembling, but nobody didn't seem to be caught in the fire of the jealous man. He didn't see anybody hurt and nobody bloody, but there was a little girl who was whimpering and holding her arm. He quickly paced to her.

"Are you okay miss?"

She, on the other hand, widened her eyes in pure horror. "Are you from the police?"

"No...I'm from International Rescue. I'm here to save you."

"You can't do that!" she shouted, but somewhat her sentence came out whispered lightly.

"Hey, it's okay. We're gonna get you to safety." he repeated, this time a bit more quietly.

"He will kill us if he sees you here! He has already killed his wife and..." The girl continued to whisper terrified, looking around frantically.

He tried to ignore that statement for the time being by kneeling slowly. "Are you hurt?"

"No...but he killed my dad." she let a sob slip away. Virgil blinked, understanding the gravity of the situation in a single instant.

"Is your mom with you?"

"Mom died, dad didn’t know the other mom had a husband..." The girl’s sobs were echoing all over the room.

For a moment Virgil’s heart tightened in a painful vice; the child was too young to lose both parents, and apparently also a stepmother she loved. "How old are you?"

"11..." The child replied sad, and then watched him terrified. Or he didn’t look at him...he could see a shadow forming in front of him. A shadow that was not his own.

"Turn slowly." The new voice was very sharp and shaky, a sign of instability, but Virgil did what the other man told him anyway. As he turned completely to look at him he found a gun pointed at his forehead. Small enough, maybe it makes a lot of noise. Virgil made sure to cover the child behind him as much as possible, trying to hide the nervousness that attacked his mind and trying to muffle the sound of the quiet sobs and sobs that he heard echoing throughout the room.

Suddenly his communicator echoed in the room, possibly John trying to get in touch with him for an update on the situation. Maybe Scott or Gordon to warn him that they had finished with the claw.

"Don’t answer." The shrill voice of his assailant echoed again in the room, the gun pressing more and more in his forehead.

"I won’t answer." Virgil replied, holding his hands in the air so that the other could see them.

Mr Lopez was about to replicate something when the deafening noise of various engines grew nearer and louder, until everyone saw a very familiar military aircraft looming a shadow over everyone’s heads.

As if the situation were not disastrous enough, all the guests began to scream and run in all directions, agitated. The assailant distracted his attention from Virgil, holding the gun to his temple but loosening the grip a bit, and Virgil in turn took the opportunity to get out of the firing trajectory and run away to try to calm everyone down.

The situation became even more dramatic when a shot, even very close, echoed in the air, causing everyone to stop dead in their tracks. Virgil also stopped, looking around quickly to see if everyone was okay, if no one had been hit by the shot just launched. No, no one seemed to be hurt. So why were they all screaming worse than before?

The GDF guards, camouflaged in green, entered quickly, who surrounded in a moment the shooter, who protected the customers by positioning in front of them, who took care of possible wounds, fortunately mild. Colonel Casey appeared in all her mastery as always: chest out, chin high, sharp and deep look, hands always behind her back.

"Santiago Lopez, you’re under arrest for the murder of your wife and her lover. Anything you say will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney." The colonel turned to the shooter as another guard carried his hands behind his back, handcuffing him. Lopez resisted the arrest, hurling insults to left and right and calling in unpleasant ways his now deceased wife, eventually giving in and being escorted out by the guards, all this not before turning a deadly look at the Colonel, who in responde turned to turned to look at Virgil, her look visibly softer. "What are you doing here? Didn’t your father say you should stay and wait near your Thunderbird?" She let out her right hand to Virgil, for him to take it, a sort of salutation valid for all the brothers. Although they were worth a lot more to her than that type of salute.

Virgil turned completely to the Colonel, having been turned to the side until then; he extended his hand in turn, only to realize that something was wrong. His hand had remained along his hips. Not even his arm had moved. Virgil ignored the exclamation of surprise -or perhaps of terror? - of his godmother, looking at his right shoulder and immediately understanding the source of the problem.

There was a small hole, made bigger by the blood, going through his shoulder from side to side, even through his exo-suit, and a giant pool of blood forming quickly on the ground.

"I don’t understand..." Virgil began, and then suddenly felt dizzy, symptom of too much blood loss.

"Stay still, try to move as little as possible. How did you not notice?" He found the colonel’s hands around the gunshot wound, pressing to prevent further blood from escaping. Meanwhile his communicator sounded again.

Casey looked at Virgil’s failure to respond, noting that he was beginning to pass out. She came down with him on the cold floor, his head on her lap and her hands pressing on his wound, helped by a shirt found on the ground. She muttered some curses under her breath and then responded to Virgil’s communicator who kept on echoing, looking with her peripheral vision at the guards who were taking the now handcuffed shooter out of the hotel. The hologram of a concerned Scott appeared as a flash.

"Colonel Casey! Don't tell me Virgil is there?" Scott asked somewhere between the concerned and the nervous.

"Well..." she replied, lowering her eyes to her hands smeared with Virgil’s blood.

"Why did he have to disobey Dad’s orders?!" The eldest exclaimed, to then start talking again after a deep breath. "At least let him be okay."

"I’m sorry to say it, but not exactly."

"What the fuck happened to him?" Gordon’s voice overlayed Scott’s undivided voice, a sign that he was also close by. "Scott, we’re done with the claw." Then a serious Gordon appeared in the hologram. "Can we come in Colonel?"

"You have to! Hurry." Virgil was starting to get pale and cold. While waiting for the eldest and the youngest of the family, Casey’s mind was filled with thousands of questions, many with answers.

It was more than normal for Virgil to put the needs of others before his own, and it was not so much for the work he did as for his own character. That’s who he was. Virgil Tracy was the type to disobey orders, not sit around, be impatient. But he was also the type to sacrifice for others, especially his brothers. He knew he was going to get in danger inside that hotel but he still entered anyway. His motto might have been "I would sacrifice for you." But that wasn’t Virgil’s motto. No.

Scott was the first to enter, as usual; Scott was the first in all. Gordon followed him, but he was a bit slower, perhaps out of fear of the scene he would find himself in front of, perhaps out of fear of not being able to do anything for his older brother. They both gasped in seeing his brother in a pool of blood, of his own blood, while the Colonel stubbornly tried to stop the blood with a now-soaked shirt.

Scott, however, said nothing; he only knelt, inspecting first his wrist for the heartbeat. It was weak. "He lost too much..." he murmured to himself. He lightly touched Virgil’s cheek; his eyes opened slowly, black and abysmal. "Hey, Virgil. You in there, little brother?"

Virgil didn’t answer, but he blinked a couple of times. Lifeless. He wasn’t even looking at him.

Another day, another rescue.

[mashtonasfuck]

there’s a ghost in the back of this room

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Calum Hood (and also a bonus side of muke that happened accidentally)

Prompt:

Person B is a ghost in Person A’s house and they would be really freaked out but Person B always leaves really good advice using the kitchen magnets, so Person A is not really bothered

Warnings: mention of a missing person who reader knows is dead/a ghost

Word Count: 3K

A note from Lucy: This is part of the halloween writers collab organised by @maluminspace​ and @h0tsos. The masterlist can be found here. See the end of the post for more notes. Hey look, I managed to write cashton fic without it turning into smut! Thanks to @loveroflrh and @kindahoping4forever for reading this over for me 💙

If you’d like to be added to my tag list then please fill in this form

You can find my masterlist here

This work must not be reposted anywhere - I do not give my permission for it to appear anywhere other than on my blog, or on my ao3 page.

——————————————————————————

“Ashton, why does your fridge say ‘stop being an idiot’?” Ashton glanced over to where Luke was staring at the fridge door in mild amusement. 

“Oh, that’s just Calum - ignore him. I usually do” Ashton rolled his eyes as a picture fell off the wall as he finished speaking, the thud causing Luke to spin around, eyes wide.

“What was that?” 

“I just brushed past the picture and knocked it off, that’s all.”

Luke narrowed his eyes at Ashton, the older man chuckling as he hung the picture back up. 

“Come on, let’s watch this damn movie you don’t shut up about.”

–

Why did you tell Luke to ignore me

The question was on Ashton’s fridge the next morning, the letters a mishmash of colours and cases. Ashton pinched the bridge of his nose as he read it - only he would get a self conscious ghost living in his house. 

“Calum, are you here?”

A cupboard door opened and a mug floated down onto the counter a few feet away from him - Ashton took that as a yes and shoved a pod into his coffee machine before grabbing the mug and pushing the button. 

“I was only messing with you, Cal. Besides, you’re my ghost, it has nothing to do with Luke.”

Ashton watched as the letters on the fridge rearranged themselves, sipping on his coffee and humming at the bitterness dancing on his tongue. 

Do you not want your friends to know about me

Ashton groaned internally, how could he explain this to his house ghost without offending him? 

“I think they’d be pretty freaked out if they knew I lived with a ghost. You saw Luke’s reaction to you knocking that picture off the wall. Besides, I like keeping you a secret, you’re mine.”

It’s pretty hard for me to be yours when you’ve never even seen me

Ashton had in fact seen Calum. Or at least a photo of Calum. 

– 

He hadn’t been in the house more than a month when he started to realise that things kept happening. A photo moved slightly, the couch not being quite as tidy as he’d left it. The day Ashton had realised he actually had a ghost, he’d come home to find a new photo of him and Luke floating in midair. 

“Um, hello?”

The photograph was dropped hastily, as though Ashton had scared the ghost he evidently had living in his house. After that, Ashton started talking to the ghost, even though he never got a reply aside from the odd knock on a table or a wall. It was while he was at a store grabbing something for dinner that he saw the fridge magnets. He grabbed all of the packets they had and drove home with a grin on his face.

“So, I bought you these today,” Ashton held out the magnets towards where he hoped his ghost was, “I thought maybe you could try talking back to me?”

Ashton felt a small whoosh of air as the ghost moved around the kitchen and he tore open the first packet, dumping the contents into a drawer he never used. Almost immediately the letters started floating from the drawer towards his fridge and Ashton watched as the ghost arranged the letters into a sentence.

Hello Ashton

“Hello, ghost. Oh - what’s your name? It feels weird calling you ‘ghost’.”

The letters arranged themselves once again.

My name is Calum

“Nice to finally know your name, Calum. How was your day?”

I’m a ghost Ashton

The brunette snorted as he watched the letters form another sentence.

Boring thank u for asking

Ashton laughed before spending the next few hours conversing with his ghost - with Calum - via fridge magnets. Calum had told him his full name after Ashton insisted upon knowing it.

“If you ever piss me off, I need to know what to call you.”

Calum Hood

It lingered there for a few seconds before ‘Hood’ was moved over.

Calum Thomas Hood

Ashton turned it over in his mind. Why did that name sound so familiar to him? He thought nothing more of it until he was at work a few days later.

STILL NO SIGN OF MISSING MAN 

Police are still searching for Calum Thomas Hood, 24, who disappeared from his home 6 months ago. They’re urging anyone who may know anything about his disappearance to come forward. 

Attached to the article had been a photo of the missing man, and Ashton knew it was his Calum. (He’d later cut the photograph out of the newspaper and taped it to the bottom of his desk drawer where no one would find it.) When he’d got home from work that day, Ashton had asked Calum how he’d died. 

Not sure don’t remember

Ashton had debated telling the police that he knew exactly where Calum Thomas Hood - or at least his soul - was. He’d told Calum this one evening and a single word had appeared on his fridge.

Crazy

– 

Calum was bored. 

Sure, being a ghost meant that he could walk through walls and move things with his mind, but being bound to one place had its drawbacks. There were only so many times you could move things around waiting to see how long it took Ashton to find them before you’d moved everything. 

(He’d even tried to swap all the furniture in Ashton’s bedroom with all the furniture in his living room, but Ashton had come home earlier than Calum had anticipated and made him put it all back to normal without any help. Moving things with your mind was tiring. 

“You’re a ghost, Cal, how can you get tired?”

Calum had used all of the ‘i’s and the ‘l’s to make a middle finger on Ashton’s fridge door.)

Calum thought that Ashton could sense how restless he was. Ashton seemed to find new reasons to work from home during the day so Calum wasn’t by himself. Not that they could really interact unless Ashton was in the kitchen. They’d tried using a pen and some paper once, but Calum’s ghostly abilities didn’t seem to extend to pens. He couldn’t seem to get the pressure right to actually leave ink on the paper. Ashton had laughed at him before being met with a cushion to the face. 

Calum missed being alive. He missed being able to go outside. He missed coffee. He missed being able to pet dogs.

Most of all, he was frustrated that he couldn’t remember how he’d even become a ghost. At night while Ashton was asleep, Calum tried to remember what had happened. (There wasn’t much else to do while your best friend was sleeping.) He’d get so far into the memory and then something would tug him back into the present moment. It was disconcerting. Calum could sense that he was close to finding out the truth, but something was stopping him. He’d tried to explain it to Ashton but ran out of letters and gave up. He’d debated asking the other man to buy more, but had resigned himself to the fact that it just wasn’t worth it. Ashton wasn’t going to be able to help him figure out what had happened - it was something he needed to figure out for himself.

– 

“Hey Cal, how do you feel about me throwing a Halloween party this year?”

Although Ashton couldn’t see him, he knew that Calum had raised an eyebrow at his question. 

It’s your house Ashton

“Well excuse me for wanting to make sure my resident ghost wasn’t inconvenienced.” Ashton smirked at his fridge as Calum spelt out a new message.

Appreciate it

Sure, have a party

Ashton cheered aloud and began reeling off his ideas to Calum, barely giving the ghost time to form a sentence. Calum shook his head fondly at the man standing opposite him - if Calum had been alive and met Ashton, he was sure that they’d have been best friends. When Ashton had finished speaking, Calum had one thing to say.

You already have a haunted house Ash

– 

The party had taken Ashton weeks of planning and he’d dragged Luke into the prep early on in the process. 

Calum liked having Luke around - he was fun to mess with. He’d taken to moving Luke’s glass from wherever he’d put it down and putting it on the other side of the room. Watching Luke’s bewilderment was a new favourite activity of Calum’s - Ashton had to keep taking the fall for his antics. 

As Halloween rolled around, Ashton’s house really did look haunted. Every room was shrouded in black and there were cobwebs all over the place. (Calum’s favourite thing was the skeleton hiding behind the downstairs closet door that jumped out whenever you walked past it.) According to Ashton, the outside looked just as scary as the inside, but Calum had to take his word for it. 

As people started arriving, Calum retreated into Ashton’s room. He didn’t usually go anywhere near the other man’s room, but Ashton had told him that it was okay if he needed to get away from all the people. Calum was worried about being walked through. Ashton had done it a few times by accident, and Calum had felt sick every time it had happened. That was something they were both eager to avoid, especially once Calum had explained to Ashton how it felt. 

A knock on Ashton’s bedroom door piqued Calum’s interest and Luke’s head appeared around the door frame.

“Ash, are you - oh. You’re not here.” Luke started to close the door but stopped suddenly, pushing it back open and slipping inside before closing it behind him. He glanced around a few times, gaze running over where Calum was sitting on the end of the bed. 

“This is going to sound crazy, but is there someone else in here?”

Calum cocked his head at Luke’s words; he knew that Ashton wasn’t particularly forthcoming with Luke about his existence. He shifted off the end of the bed, moving across the room to stand about a foot away from Luke. The blonde let out a breath as he felt the temperature in the room drop slightly.

“Calum, right?” Luke’s voice was quiet as he spoke, Calum smiling at the fact that Luke remembered his name. He picked up a pillow from Ashton’s bed in response, tossing it gently towards Luke. The other man caught it easily, eyes growing wide at the pillow that was suddenly in his arms.

“Holy shit, you are actually real.” 

Calum let out a laugh at Luke’s words, amazement etched into the blonde’s face. 

“I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.”

The blonde left the room, returning a few minutes later with an armful of stuff. He dropped it all on Ashton’s bed before turning around and facing the room. 

“So, um, I bought a small magnetic whiteboard and some of the letters from Ashton’s kitchen drawer and I was wondering if we could talk about something?”

Luke watched in shock as the letters began arranging themselves on the whiteboard.

Hi Luke

What’s up

Luke sucked in a breath before he started talking.

– 

Calum knew this was crazy. 

Luke was crazy.

Just because it was Halloween, it didn’t mean that Ashton would suddenly be able to see him. Calum had always thought the whole ‘veil being thinner on Halloween’ thing was bullshit. Luke was insistent that it wasn’t, telling him that if anyone would be able to see him it would be Ashton.

“He’s in love with you, I think.” 

The way Luke had said it had been so casual, but it sent Calum’s mind reeling. Ashton couldn’t possibly love him. He barely even knew him. Luke had dismissed Calum’s concerns before he’d even completed a sentence on the board. The more Calum thought about it, the more he was sure that he was the one in love with Ashton. He paused rearranging the letters for a moment as he stared at Luke. 

Think I love him too

Luke had lit up with a smile at Calum’s words before slipping out of the room to find Ashton. 

Calum was sure if he had any contents in his stomach, that they would be on their way out by now. He was so nervous. Luke was so sure that this would work, that Calum found himself believing the blonde man wholeheartedly. It felt like an eternity before Luke finally returned dragging Ashton behind him, along with another man that Calum had never seen before. 

“Calum, this is Michael. He’s my boyfriend and he’s also slightly psychic.”

Michael blushed a deep red at Luke’s words, scanning the room before he locked eyes with Calum. 

“Hello, Calum.” 

Calum waved gingerly at the green eyed man staring at him, Michael breaking out into a smile. He glanced at Luke and nodded slightly, the blonde smirking at Ashton. Ashton was standing behind Luke looking bewildered as he watched the exchange between his friends. 

“Can someone please explain to me what’s going on? Luke, how did you find out about Calum?” 

Luke glanced over his shoulder at the brunette man and rolled his eyes. 

“Please, I don’t know why you thought no one would find the picture you’d taped to your desk drawer. Coupled with the fact that you kept blaming ‘Calum’ for things. You weren’t exactly subtle, Ash. I put two and two together and did a google search.”

Ashton’s jaw dropped open as Luke spoke, Calum snickering at his reaction. Michael smiled widely at Calum and turned to face Ashton. 

“You already know what Calum looks like, right?”

Ashton nodded slowly, fearful of where this was going.

“As we all know, the veil is thinner on Halloween, therefore allowing spirits to pass between the realms. I’ve never tried to bring an actual ghost through the veil, but there’s a first time for everything, right?” Michael rolled his shoulders as he spoke, turning back to face Calum. “Provided this goes right, we should all be able to see you. I mean, I already can. But Luke and Ashton too. Worst case scenario is that only I can see you, and this doesn’t work. You only live once though, right?” 

Calum rolled his eyes at Michael’s words, bracing himself for whatever the man was about to do. 

“Oh, wait.” Michael glanced at Ashton before looking back towards Calum, “Say something to me, Calum. I need to know if I can hear you already or not.”

Calum raised an eyebrow at Michael.

“You’re such a know-it-all, Michael.” 

Michael broke out into laughter, Luke and Ashton looking at him in confusion.

“This is gonna be fun, nice to meet you Calum.” Michael smirked at him before cracking his knuckles, “You’re gonna fit right in with us all, I’m sure of that.”

“Michael, what exactly are you going to do?” Ashton’s voice was nervous, he didn’t like the fact that Michael could see Calum when he couldn’t.

“We, my dear friends, are going to summon Calum firmly into the realm of the living.”

– 

Calum felt the air around him grow fuzzy as he watched the three figures sat on the floor in front of him. 

“Now Ashton, I need you to imagine Calum standing right in front of you. Really imagine it. See him in your mind’s eye. You got it? Good.” Michael looked away from Ashton and back towards Calum. “Cal, whenever you’re ready, I need you to come and stand in front of Ashton. I’m 80% sure that this is going to work. It depends how well Ashton is visualising.”

The brunette huffed in Michael’s direction and Calum smirked. 

“Is he always like this when I’m not around?”

Michael grinned at Calum before nodding and gesturing to the spot on the floor in front of Ashton. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Calum.”

– 

Holy shit

“Cal?” Ashton’s voice was barely a whisper as he stared at the man suddenly standing before him.

“Hi, Ash.” Calum blushed under the other man’s gaze, casting a look towards Luke and Michael who were both sat on the floor smirking.

Ashton blinked a few times before slowly standing up and reaching towards Calum. The other man grabbed his arm as he stood, helping to pull him off the floor. 

“How - how are you corporeal right now?” Ashton looked over at Michael who simply shrugged in return.

“You must be really good at visualising. It was only supposed to make Calum visible and hearable. Whether or not he was corporeal was out of my control.” Michael pulled Luke to his feet as he stood up, taking the blonde’s hand, “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go and make out with my boyfriend in Ashton’s spare room. Nice to meet you, Cal. I daresay we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the near future.” 

Michael dragged Luke from the room, the blonde waving absentmindedly at Ashton and Calum as they retreated, closing the door behind them. 

“It’s really you.” Ashton ran his hand up Calum’s arm. The other man was wearing the same clothes as in the photo Ashton had seen, Calum’s leather jacket feeling smooth against his fingers. 

“It’s really me, Ash.” Calum brought a hand up rest against the back of Ashton’ neck. “It’s so weird to be able to talk to you and for you to actually be able to hear me.”

Ashton laughed quietly at Calum’s words, leaning forwards to rest their foreheads together. 

“I can’t believe you’re really standing here and I can see you. Remind me to get Michael a case of beer or something.” 

“Noted.” Calum grabbed both of Ashton’s hands, lacing their fingers together. “I’ve thought about being able to touch you for so long.”

Ashton hummed quietly at the other man’s words, the realisation finally setting in.

Calum was here. He could see Calum. He could hear him. He could feel him. 

“Ash, I need to tell you something.” Calum nudged Ashton’s head up so they were eye to eye. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.” 

Ashton smiled softly at the admission.

“Pretty sure I’m in love with you too, Cal. I mean, it’s kinda complicated because you’re a ghost and all, but I really do love you.”

Calum searched Ashton’s face for any sign of hesitancy before closing the distance between them. 

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Notes: I deliberately left this open ended so I can come back to it in the future. I hope you like it, I’m really unsure about it 🥺 please let me know what you think here

Taglist: @pxrxmoore, @irwinkitten, @kindahoping4forever, @sadistmichael, @loveroflrh, @adoringlrh, @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles, @maluminspace, @malumsmermaid, @lashtonswildflower, @irwindoll, @castaway-cashton, @everyscarisahealingplace, @converse-luke, @zhangyixingxing1, @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25

[inkformyblood]

Voyage Closed And Done

Jangobi Week 2021 Prompt #2 Time Travel

Jango died when the purple blade sliced through his neck, the desperate scream of his son echoing in his ears. 

Waking up on Kamino—on the painfully familiar synthetic fabric that was nearly as hard as the tiles that lined the building—with his dying scream caught in his throat, was a surprise.

“Buir?” Boba’s voice was sleep-roughed and tight, wary of some unknown threat as he slipped into the room.

“I’m fine, Boba,” Jango rasped reflexively, his trembling hands pressed to his throat as if that would be enough to wipe away the pain of its severing. Had he been dreaming? 

He could still taste the acrid tang of blood and bile in the back of his throat, smell the burning plasma of the Jetii and their kad’au, feel the heat burning him inside his armor as he attacked. 

Boba was a dark shape at the edge of the room, hesitation clear in his quiet footsteps as he drew closer to the bed. Jango reached for him, settling the boy between Jango and the wall, Boba’s feet skimming across the blankets as he was lifted over. 

“Is it because of the Jetii? Is he making you sick?”

“No, ad’ika. It’s not him.” Jango drew Boba closer, humming a half forgotten tune his father used to sing in the quiet moments of the day.

Obi-Wan was complicated. Far more complicated than he wanted to admit to his young son, or even to his older echoes. His feelings towards the clones were messy, a desperate attachment that he couldn’t nurture, tangled with his love for his son that he thought he would never get to have. But Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan was something else. 

Two sets of memories crowded in Jango’s mind—a diverging path that unfurled in front of his feet—but he could remember Obi-Wan. They had shared countless kisses—the heat of his mouth against Jango’s, the gentle pressure of his forehead against the other man’s in a Keldabe kiss—and one blissful night when Obi-Wan had curled into his arms, exhausted but content, and they had slept, nothing more. 

“C’mon.” Jango lay back, feeling his heart settle at the familiar ache in his back, the soreness of his arms and legs making itself known as his panic receded. He couldn’t get attached to his echoes, but he had trained them as best he could, forced himself to be cruel so they had the best chance of survival. Boba moved with him, promptly drawing most of the blanket over himself, curling up in the warmed fabric. 

Jango stared up at the dappled shadows reflected on the ceiling from the ocean far below them. He deliberately allowed his breathing to slow and deepen, feeling Boba respond in minute fragments, the tension leaving his son’s shoulders as sleep overtook him once more. Jango envied him in a way. A dreamless sleep had been lost to him for years, except for that one night.

He bit back a slew of curses, letting them rattle round his mind like dried seed pods. It was as if he was trapped in a gravity well of his own creation, his thoughts inevitably turning towards Kenobi whenever he loosened his iron-clad control. He could still recall the pattern of freckles on the Jedi’s shoulder, had traced the constellation they formed with a blaster calloused fingertip and decorated it with a bruise—his attempt at claiming the unobtainable, a mark that would fade except for the memory of it. 

He had to focus.

Jango hadn’t been— wasn’t a stupid man. It was a particular benefit in his line of work as his beskar’gam provided him two forms of protection. He knew people saw his armour and his guns, and thought they knew everything about him. It loosened their tongues, made them complacent. Even Dooku—in another life—has slipped up with a murmur of ‘inhibitor chips’ caught on the tail end of a comm call to his mysterious master. 

There was something wrong with his echoes. There could be something wrong with Boba. 

Boba mumbled something in his sleep, curling closer into Jango’s side. Jango glanced down, the shadows creating crevices and mountains, and ran a gentle hand over Boba’s curls, carefully tugging at the stray twists of hair. 

The floor was icy beneath his feet when Jango finally managed to extract himself from the bed. It was a small set of rooms the Kaminoans had put them in, the furniture bolted to the walls and floor and almost clinical in the curved angles and plain colours. They loomed like twisted shipwrecks in the gloom, gleaming opalescent where the wave-distorted light danced across their surface. 

Jango traced a hand across his armor, gritty flecks of dark green paint sticking to his skin as he moved to open the door. The manual lock stuck for a moment, and Jango froze, goosebumps prickling over his skin as he glanced back at the sleeping form of his son. The boy didn’t wake, curling further into the tangled mess of blankets.

The corridor was much the same, but Jango barely gave it a moments more thought. The memories—because what else could they be?—were crowding into his mind, demanding to be known even though they were impossible. He couldn’t say how he made his way to Obi-Wan’s door, only knowing that his feet were numb and his head ached with every blink sending fresh pain lancing through his skull. Jango stared at the featureless metal, trying desperately to come up with a plan through the looming lightning shocks of pain. He was used to this, had trained for this, and yet Obi-Wan had always had a way of ruining any plan he had like it was a compulsion. 

The door slid open just as Jango started to back away, and Obi-Wan took hold of his lowering hand with his own. The Jetti’s skin artificially warmed by the tea Jango knew he was drinking, the scent clinging to his clothes and lingering in the air—a spiced smokiness that Jango recognised like a half forgotten memory.

“What happened?” Obi-Wan’s frown deepened as he leant forwards, staring into Jango’s eyes as if he was trying to read the answers of the universe in them. “The Force is coiled so tightly around you.”

“I died,” Jango whispered, his voice hoarse, stepping closer to Obi-Wan, cupping his face. Obi-Wan leant into the touch, his free hand reaching out helplessly to Jango’s hip. “And now I’m here. Again.”

“Darling,” Obi-Wan breathed, leaning forwards even as he stepped backwards, drawing Jango with him to press their foreheads together. The pain in Jango’s head lessened slightly at the gesture and he found himself relaxing slightly. If the Force was involved, then Obi-Wan would know, swaddled in the ridiculous and dangerous relic like a favourite grandchild. 

“Will your son be joining us?”

Jango froze, leaning backwards—mourning Obi-Wan’s closeness the moment he did so—and caught Boba’s eye as the boy stood at the end of the corridor, having snuck after him when he slipped from the room.

Boba’s face was set in the same look of undeserved confidence Jango had seen on a hundred iterations of his own face, before it wilted in the face of his flat stare. 

“No. My ad’ika is going back to bed, or he’ll be running more laps than the troopers tomorrow.”

“But buir—“

Obi-Wan’s laugh was a beautiful thing, warm as sunlight, and he looked surprised by its existence. “I have one just like that. He will sneak back the moment the door closes.”

Boba didn’t even attempt to deny it, his grin widening. 

“He can take my bed, while we talk.” Obi-Wan stepped backwards, gesturing for Jango—and by extension, Boba—to enter. Jango did so, unable to stop himself from reaching out to take Obi-Wan’s hand once more, squeezing it softly.

[theoriginalladya]

Intimacy Prompts #20: a hand written note for rydenko.

from this list

on AO3 here

Thank you so much for this one!  Sorry it took so long - I had an idea, but I got side tracked by other things! :)  Enjoy, my friend!  And thank you for asking about them!

Setting:  Andromeda Galaxy

~~~

It all begins as a joke.

Once his status as Pathfinder is officially recognized, the Initiative administrators cannot act fast enough to guarantee they have Kaidan Alenko on their side.  As the Nexus slowly opens, finally coming out of hibernation, the administrators agree they need to do something.  So, they give him an apartment.  

Scott has his father’s quarters back on the Hyperion, most of the others have their own quarters or stay on the Tempest, but all Kaidan has available to him is a cryo-pod, one that’s no longer useful now that he’s awake.  He doesn’t ask for anything, doesn’t even drop a hint.  Tann reminds him of others back in the Milky Way, even acts similarly, but he’s a crafty one, too.  In a move that is supposed to look as if the Initiative cares about their Pathfinders, they assign their lone Pathfinder an apartment.  Whether or not they actually do care about him and the role is beside the point.  

Kaidan, who detests being used as a political pawn but recognizes he can do nothing about it, hates it on sight.  

Okay, so maybe hate is too strong of a word. It isn’t the orchard back in the BC Interior, that’s for damned sure, and it’s a far cry from shared barracks during his Alliance years.  He has a room on the Tempest, so it he has some choice about where he can stay. But this… this tiny cubicle that they are calling an apartment?  Four walls, open spacing, barely any room to turn around without bumping into something? There is absolutely nothing homey about it.  Home, is something he’s still searching for.

That lasts about three weeks, until the day Scott drops by when Kaidan isn’t there and instead of messaging him to meet up elsewhere, leaves a handwritten note slipped beneath his door.  Kaidan almost misses it when he gets back after his meeting with Tann, Addison, and Kesh.  Just a small slip of paper – where had Scott found actual paper? – written in black ink.  A hint of white on an otherwise light-colored floor which is barely discernable.  Something about it catches the corner of his eye, though.  

K – Stopped by to see you.  Catch you later.  Scott

Kaidan reads it twice, just in case he’s having hallucinations thanks to the burgeoning migraine before setting it on the corner of his desk, thinking to send a reply via omni-tool.  But the meetings with Tann and the others are taking their toll, and even with SAM’s assistance, the pain is such he forgets until the next morning, at which point he decides to just head on over to the Hyperion instead. 

Of course, Scott isn’t there.

Scott – Was in the area and thought I’d save you a trip.  Better luck next time, right? Catch you on the Tempest.  K

The Tempest is scheduled out the next morning and, as typically happens aboard the ship with last minute things to do and distractions of all kinds, neither he nor Scott thinks to mention the messages to the other; almost an ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ sort of thing.  End of story.

Except, it isn’t.

The weeks pass, more notes appear at the apartment and on the Tempest or Hyperion.  Small ones. Silly ones.  Eventually, Scott starts leaving small sketches of different people on them – quick things, some cute, some ridiculous, but always they leave Kaidan smiling.  

A caricature of Tann speaking with Addison and Kesh mimicking him behind his back even as Tann’s head is blown up twice the size of the others.

A small cartoon of Suvi in the galley, laser focused as she points to different Heleus rocks and explains their different tastes to a very confused looking Drack while Lexi stands in the doorway scolding her.  

A stick figure sketch of Kallo and the several of the Tempest at various stages of the ship’s development.

Kaidan cannot hide his amusement at a more realistic looking sketch of Cora and Liam as they lean against one another in the back seat of the Nomad, fast asleep.  He remembers the incident clearly, from their last visit to Elaaden.  Even as he stares at the sketch, he swears he can hear their soft snores echoing in his ears as he tacks it to the wall over his desk next to the others.

Not to be outdone, Kaidan starts leaving quotes in his messages to Scott; from books, movies, and other inspirational sources he’s come across.  He’s been collecting them for years, long before he ever left for BAaT.  Most are saved on his omni-tool, but he has two small, leatherbound journals filled with the most meaningful ones he’s come across. They are about the only thing he was able to bring with him from home when he joined the Initiative.  

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. (1)

The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees opportunity in every difficulty. (2)

We may encounter many defeats, but we must not be defeated. (3)

Fear profits a man nothing.(4)

With each successive note between them, Kaidan learns a little bit more about Scott.  But the whole situation changes drastically after their adventures on the archon’s ship.  On the way back to the Nexus and after Lexi has cleared him, Kaidan does something he hasn’t done in centuries, if ever…

 ~~~~

 The buzzer to his Nexus apartment sounds, but Kaidan doesn’t bother to answer it.  It’s Scott, and the man has his own key.  The buzzer, he supposes, is Scott’s polite way to warn him that he’s arrived. The fact that Scott uses does it now of all times tells Kaidan something more; Scott is pissed.  

Well, I probably deserve it after what happened.  

He’s tempted to not answer, to see if Scott leaves a note, but decides not to risk it.  Opening the door, he steps to the side to allow the younger man in.  Scott remains silent, though his body language screams in a way that Kaidan easily recognizes.  Taut, tense, his lips tightened in a thin line, the way he won’t look directly at Kaidan… It’s one side of a conversation Kaidan’s been on many times, albeit hundreds of years before and in a different galaxy.

“Do you have any idea what you just did?” Scott demands, blue eyes sharp and snapping with anger.  “Any idea what could have happened back on the archon’s ship if SAM hadn’t been able to resuscitate you?  You-you could have died back there!”

Opting to let the younger man get it out in one fell swoop, Kaidan bides his time.  Well, except for one point of clarification.  “I did die.”

Scott growls in the back of his throat.  An honest to goodness growl.  Kaidan can’t help the small smirk that twists at his lips as a result.  When Scott steps forward, invading his personal space, Kaidan does something he usually doesn’t do; he goads him.  “What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“Not helping the situation!”

Kaidan isn’t certain if he should be worried that SAM is, so far, remaining silent in his head.  “I needed to get us out of there,” he argues instead.  “How else was I going to –?”

“You?  Why did it have to be you?  Why is it always you?”  Scott tosses his hands in the air and turns away, frustration building until his biotic corona flickers around him.  Still grumbling to himself, he turns back, glaring at Kaidan.  “What the hell am I going to do if I lose you like that?”

Kaidan sucks in a breath, recognizing the pain. Sure, things between them have improved since their arrival in Andromeda – no place to go but up, right? – but this…? This is a reinforcement of what he’s hoped for ever since accepting Alec Ryder’s offer.  

Or am I reading too much into this?

On their private channel, SAM replies, “You are not, Kaidan.”

Scott still prowls around the room as Kaidan asks, “Can you come over here for a minute?”

“Why?  So you can die on me a third time?”

Petulance is not a good look for Scott, and Kaidan has to bite back a laugh; as much as he wants to set it free, it would do more harm than good just now.  “I want to show you something.”

Scott grumbles some more, even as Kaidan heads on over, but eventually he follows.  When he arrives, Kaidan hands him the letter.  “Read this.”

The blue-eyed glare returns, heavy with suspicion.  “What is it?”

“Just read.  Please.”

Scott waits another moment, two, then drops his gaze and starts reading.  For several minutes, Kaidan waits patiently, watching.  The letter isn’t long, but Scott is taking his time reading it, but Kaidan knows when Scott reaches the end because the younger man’s spine stiffens, his shoulders roll back, and his head snaps up as he darts a quick look up at Kaidan. “Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.(5)”  

When Scott says nothing else, Kaidan prods, “So, what do you think?”

Scott is quiet for a minute.  It’s difficult to read his reaction because he keeps his back to Kaidan the entire time, slightly hunched in the shoulders, utterly quiet. “Do you mean it?” he asks, voice soft as if having trouble pushing it out.

“I always try to say what I mean, Scott.”

The younger man turns around, his face a surprisingly neutral mask.  Considering how difficult that has been for him in the past, Kaidan is impressed.  “So, you’re saying you consider yourself the luckiest man on Earth or, in this case I guess, the Nexus, because you survived?”

Ah, so that’s the problem.  Reaching over, Kaidan settles a hand on Scott’s cheek. Scott leans into it, then apparently thinks better of it or at the very least realizes what he’s doing and pulls back. But that’s okay.  Kaidan now has a far better sense of what he is working with. Running his thumb along the corner of Scott’s lips, he says quietly, “I am the luckiest man in Andromeda because you are here with me.”

Tension immediately flows out of Scott and he visibly sags a bit.  “And you really mean that?  Because look, I get that my Dad talked you into all of this without checking with me first, and –”

Kaidan slides his thumb over the top of Scott’s lips to silence him.  “I really mean that.  This has nothing to do with your dad, but everything to do with you….”  

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 (1) The Godfather, part II

(2) Winston Churchill

(3) Maya Angelou

(4) 13th Warrior

(5) The Pride of the Yankees

[janiedean]

PLEASE tell me about sam >> the world and the rock band au.

OKAY SO:

 sam >>> the world was... originally a thing I wrote for an exchange which then I scrapped bc it got too long and I never finished it, but basically the concept was jon gets robb’s will before he’s elected LC and he accepts being kitn except he goes to sam like PLEASE SAM BE MY HAND OR I CAN’T DO THIS, and then sam was going to proceed on solving Each Single Problem Jon Could Have starting from being friends with theon to finding sansa in the vale to finding arya and sandor to basically really solving everything and it was gonna be jon/sam but eeeeh I quit when sandor showed up bc I lost track of the plot T_T HOWEVER, I WOULD LIKE TO FIND AND QUOTE YOU A BIT WHERE BASICALLY SAM DRAGGED THEON WITH HIM TO THE VALE BC HE WAS SURE THEY’D KILL HIM OTHERWISE WHERE THEON RECOGNIZED SANSA AND TOLD SAM IT WAS HER WHICH IS2G WHEN DND HAD THE SAME THING HAPPEN WITH POD AND BRIENNE IN S5 I SCREAMED BECAUSE I WROTE THIS SHIT IN 2013 OR 2014 AND I SAID WHAT I SAID

“Go, go,” Baelish says, and he looks pale as a sheet as well. At least he didn’t have anything witty to say, Sam thinks before grabbing Theon’s arm and leading him outside the room.

“Stop,” Theon tells him a moment later. “I don’t – I just need some air. I don’t think – I won’t.”

“All right,” Sam agrees before leading him towards a half-open window in the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” he says as Theon takes deep, heavy breaths.

“For what?”

“I didn’t even – how did you know?”

“Don’t you think that Ramsay Bolton would have spared me the details?” Theon whispers. “I threw up. Then. And he – he also threw at me handfuls of red hair covered in blood. I told you I could play along.”

Sam thinks that he’s going to be sick.

“But – I need you to listen to me,” Theon whispers then, his voice still shaking, as if he’s forcing himself to say what he’s about to say.

“What?”

“The Lord Protector’s daughter.”

“Yes, what about her?”

“That’s no bastard. She’s Sansa Stark.”

For a moment, Sam is sure he’s heard wrong.

“She’s who?”

“Sansa. She dyed her hair and she’s older than – well, the last time I saw her, but I lived at Winterfell for nine years. Do you think I wouldn’t recognize her?”

And it does make sense. Sansa disappeared from King’s Landing when Baelish went to the Vale, didn’t she? Sam is pretty sure of that.

“And – you saw her when I was telling that story. She looked sick. As much as I felt.”

Oh gods be good. He’s right. Sam wonders how a simple mission suddenly turned out complicated – and if Theon hadn’t been there he wouldn’t have even known, would he?

He thinks about his options.

And then he hopes that he still has some courage left and that he hadn’t exhausted it when he killed an Other.

“All right,” he whispers. “I have no idea of why she’s here, but if she wants to come with… do you think you have it in yourself to go down the mountain twice in one day?”

Theon goes pale all over again. Sam had noticed that he could barely keep his eyes open the first time.

“What’s the plan?” he asks.

“I’m asking her. If it’s true, and if she’s here against her will… well, I already know I’m not getting Baelish’s men. And I’m sure that if I came back with his sister Jon – I mean –”

“You don’t need to call him His Grace,” Theon says, and he sounds almost amused. Barely. As much as someone like him can sound amused. “I couldn’t call Robb like that either.”

“Fine. Jon would like that better than an army, I think. So, do you think you can do it?”

Theon shakes his head again and then looks up at him. “I don’t think that I’d ever want to do it again, but just the fact that you asked first makes me think that I can try it.”

Well then, Sam thinks, that’s settled.

like excuse me but what the fuck

rock band au: okay so I had written this rock band au for jonc/brynden for that last prompt meme I took which I should finish one of these days but like then I was doing this chalenge and I ended up writing a sequel for it where they’re touring with theon who’s like the opening solo act for their band and him and jaime argue in the changing room also theon is with robb who’s the long suffering agent and theon wants jaime to hit on brienne who’s like going to all the concerts and it’s actually finished but I really need to revise it and see if I can put it together with the other one, at the end of it theon and robb had a moment™ backstage while jaime and brienne got together post-concert but here have a snipped or more:

“You know that girl that always is in first row, Lannister?”

“I do, Greyjoy. I very well damn do, and is there a reason you’re gloating at me now?”

“Just saying,” Theon says, and Jaime thinks, don’t finish that sentence, don’t finish that sentence, don't finish that sentence, “that while the time for groupies is over, I mean, supposedly so, considering that you invite her backstage every other moment and that she’s been at each single show of this tour, maybe you could invite her.”

“Can it,” Jaime groans, “no way. I’m not —”

“And why not? Come on, I’ve opened for your band for the entire last month, we drove through half of this bloody fucking country and I know for sure that you’re the only person in it that’s not getting any, and seeing your pretty face, it’s honestly baffling.”

“And since when do you care about how much I’m getting? Are you volunteering?”

Theon laughs, dark hair falling all over his shoulders as he fixes his leather trousers in front of their shared changing room — yes, this venue is so shitty that they have to share rooms in between bands, and fine, Theon’s technically a solo act but he does have a band, and he hopes the others are not being too cramped because their room is so small they can’t even change at the same time. He nods, pleased with his hair, definitely, and then goes to grab a black shirt from his bag and puts it on without closing it. Guess this is the night where he plays with his shirt open making sure his poor manager dies of frustration.

Robb Stark is a saint, Jaime thinks sometimes, because to manage this guy, you really need to have an insane amount of patience.

Good thing that they never needed one and Jon always took care of it, but still.

“I mean,” Theon says, “in the ideal world, I would, but alas, I know that it’s not meant to be. For one, I’m not your Kinsey scale one —”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“What, that you’re a one or that I’m not it?”

“Both, for —”

“I mean,” Theon goes on, “you obviously aren’t a zero or you wouldn’t stare at your bassist’s ass, and honestly also at your guitarist’s, and I wouldn’t exclude, you know, that you three might have had a go at it at some point —”

“That never happened!” Jaime protests, not that he hasn’t entertained that thought once or twice, but still, he doesn’t bat for that team, as a general rule. He just hates that Theon has apparently figured him out that easily.

“Regardless,” Theon goes on, “you’re a one, but if those two are your type, considering they’re both older than you and ginger and blue eyed and I’m not either of that, I think I’m not it. Also, no way you like pitching.”

+ throbb snippet

“So,” Theon says, as he drags Robb towards the back exit, “I might have told Lannister that I’d leave him the changing room for the night.”

“… What,” Robb says, following even if he’s trying to slow him down, “he finally decided to fess up to that poor girl?”

“Oh, that’s to be seen, I just gave him the chance to,” Theon shrugs, “which is why we’re taking a cab and going to the hotel at once.”

“Wait,” Robb says, “we should —”

He never finishes the sentence because Theon presses him against the wall and kisses him and fucking hell, Robb would like to just give in and let him and actually he would like to grab Theon’s shoulders and press him against the fucking wall, except —

“We should wait until the Kingsguard is done,” he breathes, “you agreed to sign those records, but it has to be with them. And people paid for it.”

“Oh, of course, ever the correct person —”

“Theon, I’m your fucking manager, you picked me, it’s not like you can exactly skirt around — obligations,” he groans when Theon sucks a bruise into his neck.

“Right, right, so you’d rather stay here and wait two hours instead of running to the hotel with me? We could make it, you know, if Jimmy Page and Robert Plant could —”

“It’s not the fucking seventies,” Robb groans, wishing Theon would just not press, even if fuck but now he really feels like he’s going to come in his trousers like a fifteen year-old and the fact that he’s definitely been wanting to kiss Theon at least since then is not helping, and yet —

“Really? I missed that memo.”

+ jb snippet

“Sure,” she says, reaching out to grab it, and then she swallows — “You know,” she said, “you sounded… more intense today.”

“Did I,” he says. “How?”

She shrugs, her large shoulders barely slimmed by the black band shirt sporting his face that she’s wearing, and fuck if it was weird being the face of the merchandise, except that it had to happen.

Fucking Targaryen.

“I’m not quite sure,” she says, “just… there was a difference? In the good sense, though. You felt… more immersed, not to say that you’re not usually, it’s just… I don’t know, I felt like crying more than once.”

Oh.

Well.

“Maybe,” he sighs, “I had a conversation with Greyjoy before that made me realize a few things,” he goes on. “I suppose. I don’t know,” he shakes his head, “I just… you’ve been listening to us since before Rhaegar fucked off, and I just — I guess it just sank in that I’m not going back to my former job anytime soon.”

“Can — can I say I’m not sad that you aren’t?”

“You can,” Jaime shrugs, “it’s just, it felt a bit too much. I never signed up for that.”

“But you sing those songs a lot better than he did.”

“Not the first person that told me that, today.”

“But it’s true. He just — he was good. But you just have a whole other delivery.” She blushes, guileless blue eyes staring into his, and he thinks of how she told him that his songs made her survive high school and some kind of ridiculous bet her supposed friends made about her fucking v-card and he just — fuck. She’s so nice. She’s the kind of nice person you wouldn’t presume listens to his fucked up lyrics, and yet.

And yet she does.

[methoxyethane]

Zukka Prompt, “Seeds”

Zuko didn’t know what to make of it, when Sokka handed it to him. “You got me… a pot of dirt?” He asked dubiously, examining the clay pot Sokka had given him with a sunny smile upon his arrival in the Fire Nation.

“It’s a ginyu flower! At least, it’s supposed to be,” Sokka said. “It’s the seeds from a flower we found in the Northern Air temple. Well. Aang THINKS it a flower. It kind of looked like a weed to me, but Aang said when it actually blooms it’ll be a real flower and not a creepy seed pod.”

Zuko looked down at the pot with new appreciation, but no less confusion. “And you’re giving it to me because…?”

Sokka beamed at him. “Because when I heard that it’s a rare and beautiful flower, it made me think of you!”

“Of me?” Zuko asked, trying not to wonder what a rare and beautiful flower and a broken prince might have in common. Other than the apparent shared ability to make Sokka smile Like That.

“Yeah, I mean. For one thing, you’re the only person who stays in one place long enough to be able to take care of it.”

Zuko deflated a little, though he wasn't sure why. “Oh. That… makes sense. You just wanted to see what it looks like when it blooms, huh?”

“And,” Sokka said easily, “I thought that the palace could use a little bit more life in it. Not that it isn't a great place and all, but you know.” He shrugged. “You seem like you need something to remind you you have friends when we’re not around.”

Zuko finally gave a little twitch of a smile. “Thanks for the flower, Sokka. I’ll make sure to take good care of it.”

And he did. He kept it under sunlight and watered it daily, waiting patiently for a little green stem to poke its way out of the soil, almost surprised when it did. Well, he’ll be damned. He was capable of being nurturing after all. 

Zuko watched as it grew, and eventually bloomed into a beautiful blue lily. He didn’t get a chance to show it to Sokka before it eventually withered and died, leaving behind a pod full of seeds.

He planted the seeds in his favorite garden, and took care of and watered them the same as the one he kept in his room. He didn’t see Sokka in person much but they exchanged letters, keeping up with each other even through the long months where work kept them from being able to physically meet, and all the while Zuko took care of the flowers Sokka had given him. 

When Sokka did finally find the time to return to the Fire Nation, it was at the perfect timing. The flowers he had been gradually planting were in full bloom, and the first thing Zuko did was take Sokka to see the gardens where he’d planted them.

“WHOA,” Sokka said, eyes wide as he took on the garden. “There were NOT that many flowers in here last time I was here.”

Zuko blushed a little, wondering just now if he’d gone overboard. He’d been having so much fun planting and replanting the flowers, though, it hadn’t actually occurred to him before now he could just sort of… stop. “They’re all ginyu flowers. I… you took too long to come back. So I managed to breed it, a little bit.”

“This is all…” Sokka said, wondering in his voice as he looked around the stunningly bright blue garden. “Just from that one flower seed I gave you?”

Zuko nodded. “It wasn’t very hard. I mean I did need help uprooting a couple of begonias that spread too far out of their boundaries but the gardener was really helpful, so…”

Sokka laughed, “You even did it all yourself. Of course you did, you’re Zuko.”

He leaned down to pick one of the many flowers, bringing it up to his nose to smell it. “Well I’m glad to see you single handedly revived what could have been a dead species,” he said with a laugh, leaning into Zuko’s personal space. “And I’m really glad you seemed to have had fun doing it.”

He wove the flower he was holding behind Zuko’s ear, giving him a small, intimate smile that made Zuko’s face light up in a blush. “Am I supposed to expect a garden every time I bring you flowers?” He joked as he stepped back.

Zuko blinked in surprise. “Were you… planning on bringing me flowers often?”

“Only when you look lonely,” Sokka said back smoothly.

Zuko laughed. “Too bad, then. I haven’t been feeling lonely at all lately.” 

“Oh yeah?” Sokka leaned into Zuko’s space again, close enough to be able to smell the flower in his hair. “I don’t suppose that has anything to do with me, would it?”

Standing in a field of flowers gifted to Zuko by the man standing in front of him, Zuko just laughed. “Now, why would you think a silly thing like that?”

[merakiaes]

Worth The Wait - Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader, John Shelby x reader (platonic)

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: This is not proof-read, so sorry in advance for mistakes and weirdly formed sentences. I hope you like it! 

Wordcount: 3246

Summary: After your sister Martha’s passing, you’re left with John and the children to pick up the pieces. And although your relationship with John ins purely platonic, Tommy can’t help but be jealous of your relationship. 

You were the first out of your sister Martha and yourself to meet the Shelbys.

You were two years older than her, the same age as John, and you and he had been classmates back when you were still in school.

The Shelbys and your family had lived in the same town your whole life, you and John seeing each other in school every day but never really talking. You had only started talking when you were sixteen.

It was around that age him and his older brother Arthur started getting into trouble, always going around the streets and picking fights with people.

Most of the times they deserved it, but still, you weren’t one to just sit back and watch, running in to save the day every time.

The first time it happened, John had been so caught up in punching the other boy that he’d accidentally hit you in the face with his elbow when you had tried to pull him back.

He had stopped only when hearing the sickening crack of your nose, turning back to look at you with wide eyes as Arthur, too, had, finally pulled himself back to reality and was yelling at him to stop.

John had wasted no time in starting to apologize, but rather than cry, you had just held your bleeding nose and punched him right back, before dragging him and Arthur off to clean them up.

From that day forward, you and John were inseparable, tight as two peas in a pod, but only as friends.

People often mistook your close friendship for young love, and it annoyed Tommy to no end, as he had developed a crush on you almost the same instant he laid eyes on you that day, watching with curious eyes as you punched his little brother in the face and then proceeded to scold both him and Arthur like you had known them forever.

Already at that time, you had actually managed to shut them up, having them hang their heads in shame while you cleaned their cuts, and it made Tommy fascinated, as he had never seen someone have so much control over them before.

Not even their aunt Polly.

At that time, Tommy had still been calm, and although sometimes a bit reckless, not half as violent as his brothers. So, most of the times, save a few when he actually joined in on the fighting, he would be stuck cleaning up his brothers with you.

It was two months later that you brought John over for dinner at your house for the first time, despite having been at theirs several times. And it was then John met Martha for the first time.

They took a liking to each other in an instant despite her being two years younger than you, and while you and John stayed best friends and attached at the hip, they started hanging out without you eventually, their relationship taking a romantic turn.

This left you with Arthur and Tommy, but since Arthur was the oldest of the brothers and had to help out with Finn, it was usually just you and Tommy.

You would spend hours on Charlie’s Yard with the horses, and stay out until late at night, just sitting around smoking cigarettes and laughing to the point where you would clutch your stomachs and be unable to breath.

For years, you and Tommy beat around the bush of your feelings to one another, as both of you were oblivious to the other’s emotions.

Tommy finally gathered up the courage to tell you one day, but then the war struck, and he decided to wait to tell you until afterwards, not wanting to leave you with that kind of heartbreak, should you love him back.

And so they left, leaving you back in Small Heath with Martha, Polly, Ada and your nieces and nephews; John and your sister sure had been busy.

You thought a lot about Tommy while they were away, but not as much as you would have if you would have stepped up your relationship before he left.

Tommy, however, thought about you every day, keeping a locket with your picture in his chest pocket, close to his heart at all times.

While away, John would talk about Martha and their children all the time. Tommy wanted to talk about you too, but for some reason, he just found himself unable to admit his feelings out loud before he had told you first.

But when the war was over, John came home and Martha was gone, having passed away in the influenza only weeks before their homecoming.

John was absolutely heartbroken and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t take care of his four children without the touch of a woman.

And so, you stuck around him from the moment he came back home.

Everyday, you would go over to his house with fresh food, getting up early every morning to go to the shop and be able to pick out the best fruit and vegetables before they were gone.

You would make them breakfast in the morning, making sure they were all fed, that the kids were ready for school, and that John actually got out of bed and headed over to the Betting Shop.

You would then hang around the Shelby residence the whole day while Polly and the Blinders tended to their business in the back, but rather than actually socialize, you prepped lunch and dinner for everyone and made sure everything was clean and in order so that Polly wouldn’t have to, taking care of Finn and John’s kids until it was time for the latter to go home to their own house.

All day, you would fuss over John and bid to his every request like you were the one he had married, taking care of his children like you were their mother. At least that’s how Tommy saw it.

He wasn’t the same after the war. He barely got any sleep at night, lying awake and listening to the sounds of shovels digging against the walls with panic, fear and anxiety rattling his bones. He craved for your touch, to be in your arms, but all you ever saw was John.

You knew it sounded horrible, but since they got back from the war, you had barely even taken the time to notice the way it had affected the older two of the three veterans. The only one you ever focused on was John, and everyone could see how jealous it made Tommy.

Before the war, he had been able to keep his romantic feelings towards you hidden good enough, but now, with the turn for the worse that his personality had taken, he was like an open book.

The only ones who couldn’t see it, were you and John, you being too busy to keep everything balanced in his and the children’s lives, and him being too wrapped up in his own chaotic mind to notice.

And though you and John had never been more than friends, everyone were now starting to doubt your constant denies to any romantic involvement with each other. Even Polly.

But they didn’t know that when you had put your nieces and nephews to bed every night, John would lay with his head in your lap and cry about your sister, remembering all of their shared moments and blaming himself for her death.

In what way it was his fault that she caught the influenza while he was away, you couldn’t quite figure out. But then again, you guessed there wasn’t really any logic in heartbreak, which was also why Tommy had been acting like a downright asshole for the past few months.

And today, when John had called for a family meeting in the backroom in The Garrison, was no different.

“Alright, John.” Tommy said in a bored toned as he wandered inside to where the rest of you were already sitting, trying his best to keep his eyes away from him where you sat beside him and sitting down on the opposite side of the table and lighting a cigarette. “Get on with it.”

You instantly glared at him, not knowing what had gotten into him. John was obviously distraught and exhausted, and yet he treated him like dirt.

Polly glared along with you, putting a comforting hand on John’s shoulder. “What’s troubling you?”

John took a shaky breath, fiddling with the box of matches in his hand, toothpick hanging from his lips and eyes red from tears and the lack of sleep. “Polly, you know what it’s been like since Martha died.”

Polly nodded, doing the sign of the cross and looking up into the ceiling. “God takes the best first.”

John’s leg bounced under the table with anxiety. He looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded, telling him to go on. “Well, the truth is, my kids have been running bloody rings around me. Running barefoot with the dogs until all hours.”

You looked at him with sympathetic eyes as he spoke, knowing more than anyone how exhausted he was. You wanted to keep helping him, but you couldn’t be with them at all hours every day anymore, as you had picked up a job as a nurse that would be taking time out of your days.

But Tommy didn’t seem to understand at all what he was getting at, only giving him an uninterested look and motioning to his aunt. “Pol, give him ten bob, some shoes.” He then turned to his younger brother, quirking a brow. “Is that it, John?”

“Tommy, we’d be better doing this without you.” Polly scoffed, before turning to John. “Now, what’s you point?”

John cleared his throat, straightened himself up and speaking in a much louder and cleared voice. “What the kids need is a mother. So, that’s why I’m getting married.”

Arthur and Polly shared a hesitant glance, looking between you and John with slightly narrowed eyes as they tried to figure the whole situation out.

Suspiciously, Arthur asked. “Does this poor girl know you’re going to marry her or are you going to spring it on her all of a sudden?”

“I’ve already proposed to her and she said ‘yes’.” John nodded, and when he looked at you for confirmation, to which you put a comforting hand on top of his while offering a smile, it was like all of the air was sucked out of the room.

With the suspicions that had been going around your inner circle in the last year, with the way you had been taking care of John and the children, everyone thought the same thing, and Tommy could feel his heart breaking in his chest right then and there.

Like so many times before, he found himself wishing he’d told you about his feelings before he left for France. But it was too late now.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, only leaning his arms forward on the table and looking down, hurrying to take a drag of his cigarette in a desperate attempt to rid himself of some of the anxiety that was quickly building up inside of him.

But it did absolutely nothing to soothe him.

Polly and Arthur both looked at the two of you with wide eyes and flabbergasted expressions.

“I-“ Polly paused, blowing out a breath and shaking her head slightly. “I guess we’ve been suspecting this for a while but we… We were never really certain.”

Arthur looked confused as ever, looking between you, John and Tommy, who was still glaring into the table. “Aye, always thought you had something going on with Tommy boy before we left.”

You and John both whipped your heads around to face each other, eyes growing wide at the realization of what they were saying, catching on immediately, but you were more shocked about what Arthur had said about you and Tommy.

While John looked at Polly with a horrified expression, you simply turned to watch Tommy with widened eyes, only then realizing the way he was glaring into the table.

“What?” John questioned, looking around at everyone in the room with a bewildered expression. “You thought- You thought I meant (Y/N)?”

Arthur and Polly shared a confused glance. “Didn’t you? We just assumed...”

“With he way she’s been ‘elping you…” Arthur joined in, both distraught.

At that, you pulled your eyes away from Tommy and exclaimed together with John.

“No!”

While John only shook his head violently, you scrunched up your nose. “That’s disgusting.”

At any other time, John would have for sure made a comment to that, but now he could only nod along. “We’ve been best friends since we were sixteen. I love ‘er like my sister.”

“Then who are you talking about?” Polly was even more confused now.

John looked to you, and you nodded to him, urging him to tell them.

“It’s Lizzie Stark.” He told them. “(Y/N) and I have never and will never be anything other than friends.”

By now, Tommy had looked up again, and you could feel his stare burning into your face, causing you to turn to meet his eyes.

He wanted to comment his brother’s choice of fiancée, but the only thing on his mind right then was you.

He had never experienced a panic like the one he had felt in the moment he thought you were the one marrying his brother. Not even the war could begin to compare to it.

And everyone else were just as relieved, finally not having to deal with Tommy’s sulky and bitter attitude now that he got another chance to come clean to you about his feelings.

John, however, as he had never thought about his older brother seeing you in a romantic way, only looked confused, eyes flickering between the people in the room. “Why did you think Tommy and (Y/N) was a thing?”

Polly and Arthur exchanged another glance, before turning to look at you and Tommy who had yet to look away from each other. John did the same, and realization finally lit up on his face, followed by narrowed eyes.

“Wait a minute…”

But before he could say anything else, Polly had whisked him out of his seat, clapping her hands and beginning to move out of the room. “Right.” She said. “I think we better let these two have some privacy. Go on, out you go.”

“But I-“ John tried to protest, but he was quickly pushed out of the room when Arthur joined his aunt’s side, the two managing to stop him from re-entering together and the oldest Shelby brother only smirking at the two of you before closing the doors, leaving you alone.

But neither of you had noticed any of it, as you were still starring into each other’s eyes.

Tommy’s face was a lot more relaxed now, the cigarette almost burned all the way to his fingers as he had forgotten all about it.

You could see it then in his eyes, the hidden feelings he had harbored for you for so long, just like you had for him. You had always felt some kind of connection with him, ever since you started hanging out alone when John first started courting your sister.

But even then, you had been too self-conscious and insecure to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, your opinion always being that he could get better.

He was Thomas bloody Shelby, for Christ’s sake; he could get anyone he wanted with a simple smile.

Yet, you couldn’t understand how you hadn’t seen it before, the memories of the countless of times you had caught him staring at you absentmindedly when you were younger now coming rushing back to the surface as you relived each and every one of those moments all in one.

Reality suddenly came crashing down, and you finally realized how different everything had been since they came back from the war.

Before the war, despite John still having been your best friend, it was Tommy who had kept you company each and every day. When he came back, you should have seen the impact the war had had on him.

But you had just been so caught up in keeping John sane that you had barely even acknowledged him during the whole year.

The realization filled you with guilt and caused a heavy frown to rise to your face, which instantly had you looking down in shame.

“I’m sorry.” Was the only thing you could say, looking back up slowly to see Tommy looking at you with a confused expression.

“For what?”

You gave him a sad look. “For denying you my support when you came back. You needed it just as much as John did, and I should have seen it. But I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a small, sad smile, finally letting the cigarette go, crushing it onto the ashtray in front of him. “I suppose it’s mostly my fault. If only I’d told you before I left, maybe things would have been different.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, knowing exactly what he was talking about. But still, you wanted to hear him say it, asking in a shaky breath. “Well, do you have anything to tell me now?”

Tommy looked at you for a long moment, not saying anything, before finally standing up, straightening his jacket and walking over to you.

You wasted no time in standing up to meet him, your breathing becoming heavier with the proximate position you were now in, your eyes locked together and faces so close your noses were only inches away from touching.

With patronizingly slow movement, he reached out a hand and tucked a small strand of hair behind your ear, his hands then coming to rest on your cheeks. And with a concentrated expression, he finally spoke.

“I love you, (Y/N). I have ever since we first met.”

Your lips tugged into a wide smile and you instinctively leaned into his touch, your eyes never leaving his as your hands came up to cup the hands on your cheeks. “I love you too, Thomas Shelby.”

A smile to match your own appeared on his face, and only a second later, your lips were pressed together.

The kiss was short and sweet, years’ worth of bottled up emotion spilling out in that one moment and leaving you weak at the knees.

Only when you pulled away did you notice the way his whole body was shaking lightly, a frown instantly rising to your face as you squeezed your hands tighter to his.

“You’re trembling.” You spoke in a mere whisper.

But it was loud enough for him to hear, getting him to let out a short laugh. “John’s engagement announcement gave me quite a scare.”

You laughed along with him, blushing slightly and cringing at the thought of people actually thinking  you and John were a thing.

Tommy grew serious once again, caressing your cheeks gently with a small frown. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

But you could only shake your head with a wide smile, not able to care about anything other than him in that moment.

“It doesn’t matter.” You told him. “In the end, things that are meant to be always finds its way. It took time, but it was sure worth the wait.”  

[i-read-by-lamp]

Could I get a Roman for collared and chained?👉👈

Indeed you can anon! This is for the prompt Collared and Chained for @badthingshappenbingo I’m honestly really feeling this au. I already have ideas for another part (happy ending if I write it I swear) so let me know if anyone is interested in more!

Warnings: Bruising, Roman is very beat up, Kidnapping, Chained up, there are hints of hope if anyone notices them. Talk of death. Let me know if I need to tag anything I missed!

Also Roman is 17ish for human measure in this.

——————————————————

   Roman coughed, feeling the harsh scraping it caused all throughout his throat. He quietly mourned the harsh treatment of his single most prized feature. His pod always depended on his voice to draw in prey and to protect them from outsiders. What would he do if it was irreparably damaged?

His fathers always said they loved his voice, what if it was gone now because of the mistreatment he was feeling the effects of? He had tried so hard to stay quiet but it had all hurt so much…

Tears welled up in the sirens eyes as he tried to choke down the distressed chirps and clicks forcing themselves out of him.

“Shut up in there!” A loud clanging made him flinch, his sound cutting off and he jerked into the wall, the collar that had been forced on him cutting into his neck. The hunters had put it on him when they had kidnapped him, a deterrent to trying to escape with his voice, it cut into the tender gills along his neck and could tighten painfully to cut off his breathing at the command of his captors.

He had learned that lesson painfully.

“I can’t believe you actually got a siren.” A voice from outside of his cell spoke, a smooth tenor carrying through air, sounding almost too pretty to be human. It almost sounded familiar, but Roman was very tired and very confused, he just closed his eyes and tried to shift so that his manacled hands could provide any kind of comfort. They were chained to the wall, too short to do anything, and Roman had tried. At this point though he just wanted to be able to give himself a hug, but even that small comfort was impossible.

“It wasn’t easy,” A rougher voice replied to the first. “They ain’t exactly the easiest to track, especially this pod. I figure now that we’ve got this one, we can pick the rest of them off one by one. Still gotta be careful though, this one’s just a half pint. The two grown ones won’t be pleased so it’ll be harder to get the other young’uns if we want to pick off the vulnerables first.”

 Roman really only caught parts of the conversation. He’d been starved and dehydrated for days, the bruises stark against his usually tanned skin. He did however, hear vague mentions of capturing young ones. Were they talking about his brothers?

They couldn’t be talking about his brothers! Remus was his age but who knew how he was handling the separation from Roman; they hadn’t been apart in all their seasons in the sea. He would be a wreck, and Virgil was just a baby! He was barely a guppy, there’s no way he could defend himself. He was scared of the coral for heavens sake! And Logan was barely old enough to go hunting with their fathers, let alone fight off crazed humans, hell bent on capturing and hurting him.

Roman tugged himself up, ignoring the painful chafing and reopening of wounds from his wrists. He let out a weak but fearsome snarl.

“Don’t,” He gasped, “Don’t you dare touch them.” He panted from the effort of sitting upright, but pulled himself as close to the monster outside his cage as he could.

“I will,” Gasp. “Tear you limb from limb.” Another heave, and his arms gave out. “And feast on your entrails.” He felt tears form in his eyes when he heard the monster laugh.

“Is that so? I look forward to seeing you try when I finally have one of those other pests in my grasp. I can’t kill you yet, you could still be useful as bait for the others, but don’t you worry I’ll give you a front row seat when I sink my blade into the abominations.”

Roman let out a gasp as he felt his collar tighten in warning, turning his face to the floor so the horrible human wouldn’t see his weakness.

“How… spirited.” The smooth voice spoke again. Roman almost felt comforted by it, but he wouldn’t let himself fall into that trap. “I must say I am impressed with how quickly you’ve reduced him to such a quivering mess. He won’t even look up at us.”

A grunt in acknowledgment. “Yeah it took a while, but a few shocks and a few extended restriction sessions with the collar and it settled down. Still acts up at the mention of its ‘family’ though. A protective little thing I’ll give it that.”

Of course, he was, he had to be. Remus and he had been on their own for so long until Papa and Dad had found them. Their whole guppy hood had been spent desperately swimming from one reef to the next, hiding from big things that wanted to eat them, while trying to find food so they wouldn’t starve. They had protected each other until they both collapsed to the sea floor, desperately trying to lay on top of each other to shield their twin from any predators that could happen upon them. Instead they had gotten Dad and Papa, the first ones to show kindness to them and love them. They didn’t get mad at Remus for the shocks and messy thoughts he couldn’t control, they loved Roman’s overactive imagination and his particular way he had to do things. When they sang together there was nothing more beautiful to Roman’s ears. He would miss that when he died. He hoped the family song sounded just as beautiful without him in it.

He was so tired. He was a few summers shy of being a full adult and while he was mostly grown, he still ached with want for the soft warmth of his Dad. He wanted the calming tenor of his Papa as they both wrapped him up tight in their embrace. Instead he had these chains that were too tight that he couldn’t focus on for too long or he would panic and completely lose any rational thought.

 As he heard the footsteps move on from his cell, he let his tears escape. He didn’t move from his position face down on the floor and he let the exhaustion take him.

[braveclxrke]

Michael Guerin week 2020

Ao3: Day Two prompt - “There’s something you should know,”

Title: When the truth hunts you down.

Summary: While telling Alex about the aliens, Michael decides it's time to finally reveal to him what actually happened to Rosa Ortecho and why Liz left that summer and the part he played.

Preview: 

Alex knew about aliens and was now involved; the truth would come out eventually. He had to tell him.

Michael shifted on the seat, pulling at his trouser leg for a moment, “There’s something else,” Michael quietly said, hoping that Alex wouldn’t hear, and he could avoid this conversation.

“Oh good,” Alex said sarcastically, smiling at Michael. He could tell Alex was nervous, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

Michael swallowed, “There’s something you should know…” Michael started, staring up at the smiling Alex, committing it to memory, unsure after he told Alex this, he would ever get to see it again. “That night…when your dad found us,” Alex instantly tensed up, his jaw clenching. For a moment Michael got distracted by the wave of rage that went through him for Jesse Manes, Michael cleared his throat, ��The night Rosa died,” He said.

*Keep reading for full fic*

Michael stepped closer to Alex, his head tilted to the side, “Do you wanna know who I am? Or what I am?” He asked, a small sad smile on his face. He watched as Alex scanned his face, his eyes flickering from his lips to his eyes.

He licked his lips, his eyes glassy, blinking a few times before answering, “Yes,” his voice confident and sure.

Michael gave a small nod, reaching up and running a hand down his face. Alex knew, Michael didn’t know what he knew, but he knew something.

Michael turned away from Alex, walking over to the chairs that were next to the air streamer. Michael grabbed them and pulled them across the floor, sitting them across from each other. Michael nodded towards the chairs, leaning against his one, “You should probably sit down,” Alex hadn’t moved from his spot, his chest moving up and down rapidly. He gave a simple nod, walking over to the chair to sit down. Michael walked around and sat in his chair, he leaned forward on his knees, “What do you know?” He asked, not sure where to start, the air around them felt thick with tension.

Alex opened his mouth, but no words came out, he shook his head a little, “I don’t know,” the confusion was clear in his face. Michael sympathised, even though he was an Alien himself even he got overwhelmed sometimes, he couldn’t imagine finding out about Aliens and that your ex something was one as well.

Michael nodded, “Well I’ll start from the beginning.” Michael said, trying to give Alex a reassuring smile, ”Guessing you know about the June 14th, 1947 crash.” Alex nodded, his eyes fixated on Michael, “We came on that ship, we don’t know from where or who with.” Michael said, looking down at his jeans.

“Then 50 years later Max, Isobel and I woke up in the Turquoise Mines from pods, they’d kept us alive the whole time and we gestated till we turned around 7.” Michael watched as Alex’s eyes widened slightly before his face went back to neutral. Michael knew that Alex had perfected his calm neutral face over the years, so it was no indication as to how Alex was actually feeling or thinking, Michael continued, having already started.

“We had no idea how’d we got there or anything like our memory had been wiped, some trucker found us and call the sheriff.” Michael licked his lips, finding them dry, he looked off to the side, “Later that year Max and Isobel got adopted by the Evan’s and I…I went into the foster system,” Michael said, still not looking at Alex. He decided to skip over his colourful history in the foster system, deciding to focus on the alien aspect of the story, “Then when I was 11, I came back to Roswell,” He said. Alex nodded again, Michael took in a breath, leaning forward, “You want me to keep going?” He asked.

Alex took a moment, clearly actually thinking over the question, “I think so,” he said, clearly trying to lighten the mood but Michael needed an actual answer. He didn’t want to overload Alex, who was getting 50 years of information in a few minutes. Alex seemed to understand, sitting up straighter in his chair, “Yeah,” he said.

“So quick run-down of our abilities,” Michael said, this clearly peaked Alex’s interest, he pulled his brows together in confusion. “Max can heal people, Isobel can get into people’s mind, influence them and I’ve got telekinesis; blowing stuff up with my mind,” Michael finished.

Alex didn’t say anything, he was just staring ahead at Michael. He gave a slow nod, his mouth slightly open, “Okay,” he breathed quietly.

“Okay?” Michael laughed, “That’s all you got to say?” He said, in all the times he had imagined Alex finding out he was an alien this was never how he predicated Alex would react.

Alex gave a small smile, “I’ve known about aliens and the crash for a while I’m just…processing the rest,” He said, his eyes going down to the ground. Michael could practically see Alex’s mind working, sorting all the information he had just gathered into sections and processing it. It was then Michael realised he had missed something, Michael felt his stomach cramp, his heartbeat increasing. Alex knew about aliens and was now involved; the truth would come out eventually. He had to tell him.

Michael shifted on the seat, pulling at his trouser leg for a moment, “There’s something else,” Michael quietly said, hoping that Alex wouldn’t hear, and he could avoid this conversation.

“Oh good,” Alex said sarcastically, smiling at Michael. He could tell Alex was nervous, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

Michael swallowed, “There’s something you should know…” Michael started, staring up at the smiling Alex, committing it to memory, unsure after he told Alex this, he would ever get to see it again. “That night…when your dad found us,” Alex instantly tensed up, his jaw clenching. For a moment Michael got distracted by the wave of rage that went through him for Jesse Manes, Michael cleared his throat, “The night Rosa died,” He said.

“I know she was killed by an alien,” Alex said, letting out a breath like he thought this was all Michael was going to tell him.

Michael just nodded, he took in a large breath, trying to expand his lungs and get more air in but finding it difficult. “After I left yours, I got like a…feeling, like something was wrong with Isobel, Max got it too,” Alex didn’t ask any question, just looked at Michael. He had been hoping Alex would interrupt, that he could stall. “I turned up at the Turquoise Mines and found her…” Michael looked down at his shoes, scuffing them across the floor.

“Michael, whatever it is, you can tell me,” Alex reassured from across the fire pit. Michael wanted to laugh, Alex had no idea what he was saying, what Michael was about to tell him.

Michael looked up at Alex who was still smiling at him, here goes. “I found her with Rosa, Kate and Jasmine,” Alex gave smile a confused look, the smile was still there but only for a moment. Alex’s smile slowly fell from his face, his furrowed brow loosened as he started to process what he was being told, “She killed them,” Michael finally said.

Alex’s face was blank, no emotion, no indicating of anything. “She had been suffering from these blackouts, it was almost like it wasn’t her,” Michael said, shaking his head. “I wanted to call the cops but Max said, Max said we should cover it up, that the police would ask too many questions and discover us…so we did,” Michael could still see the girls lying on the floor, could still smell the fire and gas from the car. Michael blinked his eyes quickly, having not noticed that they grew wetter. “Once Isobel woke up, we told her I had lost control of my powers and had crashed the car with the girls In it,” Michael breathed, he was nearly finished, could almost find out the damage he had done to Alex’s and his relationship. “Max and I promised each other that we’d stay here in Roswell to keep an eye on Isobel,” Michael finally stopped talking. Alex’s face was no longer neutral, his brow was pulled together again, his eyes wide and watery.

“That’s why you didn’t go to UNM,” Alex quietly said, his voice trembling slightly. He looked away from Michael, glancing down at the floor, shaking his head, “That’s why you changed that summer,” He breathed, running his hand through his hair. "I..." Alex trailed off, clearing his throat as the words got stuck, "I always thought it was my dad's fault that you changed," Alex confessed, staring down at the floor, Michael went to speak again when Alex continued, "My fault," Alex finished, a small stray tear escaping his eye.

Michael let out a shaky breath, his face screw up, "Alex, what happened to me that summer..." Michael shook his head, "That wasn't your fault." He assured. What Jesse Manes had done certainly had helped Michael on his way to 10 years of drinking and fighting, but it wasn't what caused it. Michael could feel the mixture of understanding and confusion radiating off of Alex, who’s hands were now resting on the back of his neck, his elbows resting on his knees. “I-I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t,” Michael said and damn it couldn’t be more true. Michael had spent weeks wanting to tell Alex, going over in his mind what he would say, but ultimately realising that Alex would never understand. “I didn’t want you to hate me,” Michael confessed, “but I get if you do,” Michael sadly said.

Alex’s hands dropped from his neck, he let out a deep breath, “I don’t hate you, Michael,”

It was Michael’s turn to look confused, “We blamed Rosa Ortecho for the deaths of those girls, we sat by for 10 years while everyone hated her and her family, Liz included,” Michael said, driving the point home.

Alex nodded, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, before letting his land rest on his knee. “Am I saying it was the right thing to do? No.” Michael looked down at the ground, “But..” Michael pulled his head back up, looking at Alex who didn’t have hate in his eyes or disgust. “You were scared kids, who didn’t want to be dragged off by the military,” Alex said, “You were trying to protect your family, your sister,” Michael looked away, feeling as his lower lip trembled faintly, Michael bite the inside of his cheek, “Is it fair what happened to the Ortecho’s? No, they didn’t and don’t deserve to be blamed for what happened to Kate and Jasmine, their innocent, and so is Rosa,” Alex affirmed, “But you can’t go back and change it, so you’ve gotta do what you can now, to help who you can,” Alex gave a small smile, the corner of his lips just peaking up.

Michael was speechless, his mouth hanging open slightly. Michael reached up and quickly wiped his eyes. Michael had suspected many responses from Alex, but not that. He looked up at Alex who hadn’t run away; who hadn’t yelled but had been understanding and honest. Honest, the relief that Michael had felt was short-lived, “What?” Alex said, clearly noticing the way Michael’s face changed, “What else happened?” Alex asked, leaning forward on his knees, the apprehension clear on his face.

“Remember when Liz left that summer?” Michael started, having kept these secrets for so long he’d forgotten he was holding them, the only reminder being the heaviness on his chest and mind.

“Yeah, a few days before Rosa’s funeral,” Alex said, clearly not understanding the connection.

Alex deserved to know everything, everything Michael had done. “Isobel made her leave,” He confessed, Alex leaned back on his chair, his face visibly distressed. “Max was going to break and tell Liz what happened, and we-we couldn’t let him,” Michael started to ramble, afraid he had said too much, that this was too much for Alex, “So Iz got into her mind and made her leave, it was the only way to protect us all,” That was how Michael had rationalised it when Iz had asked him about it, how he’d rationalised it over the years.  

Alex looked down at the ground, his face wasn’t calm, his brow was furrowed and his lower lip trembled a little. Michael wanted to reach out but knew better, even before this conversation their relationship was fragile, one wrong touch or word could destroy it beyond repair. Alex finally looked up at Michael, his eyes almost pleading, “Did-did you do the same to me?” He asked, “Did you make me leave, so I wouldn’t find out,” Alex gasped. Michael just looked at Alex, Michael leaned as close as he could while still staying on the chair.

“I would have never made you leave for war Alex,” Michael said, his voice solid; he needed Alex to believe this. Michael kept Alex’s glassy gaze, after what felt like an eternity Alex relaxed back into his chair. Michael didn’t say anything, worried he would shatter the seemingly comfortable energy that had fallen over them.

Alex looked off to the side for a moment, wiping the corner of his eyes discreetly before looking back at Michael, “She couldn’t influence my dad not to be a dick?” Alex said with a small smile.

Michael gave a relieved laugh, feeling as some of the air came back into his lungs. Michael leaned back on his chair, “Unfortunately, the person has to want to do the thing before she can influence them,” He joked, one corner of his lip twitching up into a smile.

“Definitely no luck there then,” Alex joked back, resting his head against the back of the chair, the small smile still on his face before he pulled his head back down to look at Michael.

Michael rested his hands against his thighs, pulling the threads on the end of his jumper. He glanced up at Alex, “Well know you who I am,” Michael sighed, he slightly tilted his head to the side, “You still glad you asked?” He jokingly asked, but there was a tinge of seriousness in his voice that even he could hear.

Alex just smiled back, “Yeah, I am,” he said simply and honestly. Michael had dreamt about this day, the day Alex would finally know who he really was, he’d also had nightmares about this day. What had happened hadn’t been close to his dreams or his nightmares, it had been real, and in some way perfect. Alex was still here, he didn’t hate him, he wasn’t scared of him, and at this moment, Michael couldn’t ask for more.

[naivesilver]

Vecpio Week - Day 6+7: Blackout & AU

We did it! We’re at the end of this year’s Vecpio Week, and it was so much fun I’m almost sad to think it’s over. It was an amazing chance to write for this ship again, and the sheer quality of the entries I’ve seen both here and on Twitter nearly knocked me off my feet. Thank you, this is a great fandom and I’m glad I can be part of it.

I posted all my entries here on Ao3 as well. Also, for today I decided to mix two different prompts together, because the chance to write some more angst was too juicy to let pass. See you all next year! (Or, more likely, next week, since at this point I’ve grown so used to posting Vecpio content every day AND I got a bunch of ideas that I couldn’t tie to any prompt, so I might write something new very soon.)

(Soulmate!AU - Spoilers for the current IDW Comics arc)

They say the day you lose your soulmate, your world goes back to grey, as it was before the first meeting.

Espio knows better, now, or perhaps he’s just thinking too much about the choice of words at play. Perhaps by losing they only mean death, and Vector is not dead.

Not yet, at least.

The point stands, though. Stories always seem to gloss over the finer details of what finding your soulmate is really like, probably as not to scare away all those children who are still eager to meet their other half. They stick to the broader spectrum – you’re born, you only see shades of grey; you meet your soulmate, you start seeing colours, and everything in your life suddenly falls into place.

Your soulmate dies, you’re back to square one.

Espio should have known it was a gross oversimplification from the beginning, because there was no sudden moment of clarity, the day he first saw Vector. He doesn’t remember any oh, this is it when he met that other boy’s gaze in a downtown alley that probably reeked of rotten trash, only the air being knocked out of his lungs and the blinding shock of the colours rushing in where first everything had been grey and white and dull. Mostly, above all, he remembers the overwhelming need to escape, to run away from whatever was happening to him.

It’s funny, in a way. If he’d run then, he wouldn’t be here now, having to fight the urge to rush at Vector’s side. He would have lost his soulmate, but he would have saved himself the pain, and a good handful of rough moments down the line, too.

He doesn’t know if that’s a bargain he wouldn’t take right now, as he falls to his knees watching Vector drag Charmy towards the mass of infected bodies inside the bunker. In the split second before the doors close behind them, Espio would rewind it all, erase it like markings on a blackboard.

Still. He didn’t run, and he can’t change the past. And as such, he’s stuck here, in this very moment, and all his memories – the good ones, the bad ones, the weird ones he can’t quite place – are in vivid colour.

That first conversation with Vector, stilted and awkward, and golden crocodile’s eyes. Finding Charmy, vibrant yellow and black and screaming as babies ought to. The house as it was before the war, as it probably isn’t anymore, whole and safe and cheap wood brown. The fighting itself, grey like the smoke and red like the injuries that have long since scabbed.

Love is red, too. It’s a naïve fancy, to believe that immaterial things could be of any shade, but Espio thinks he can afford being idealistic, for once, and for him, love is getting hurt not long after they found each other and watching the blood run down his arm and drip from his fingers, sticky and wet and red. It’s Vector patching him up, grumbling under his breath, and then taking his face in one hand and kissing him soundly, thumb stroking his cheek.

The kiss and the blood and the stinging pain in his arm all mix up, muddled together and impossible to separate, but Espio wouldn’t mind taking some pain if it meant having his soulmate back. Pain would be worth it, if it were red and not grey.

Here’s the truth, he wants to scream at all those stories: losing a soulmate doesn’t always mean death. Sometimes it’s much, much worse, the spread of a virus they never had expected to come their way, and when it touches your other half, the world doesn’t go back to the shades of grey it had before. Instead it turns a dark, brassy hue, more black than grey, with a metallic tinge that sends shivers down Espio’s spine. If he had to find a comparison, he’d say it looks the way the agency did when they had a power shortage and whatever emergency source of light they found would cast weird shadows on the walls, draining the colour from the furniture around them and leaving only spots of white in a sea of black.

It’s ironic that Vector’s sacrifice would cause a blackout, as if he’d blown off the money to pay electricity bills again, but Espio can’t bring himself to laugh, no more than he can scream, because his breath gets caught in his throat and

So that’s what happens, in the end: stories and reality blend together, and there’s no happy ending in sight. Vector grins, and meets his eyes, and suddenly Espio’s back where he began – he can’t breathe, and he can’t run, and his knees hit the cold metallic floor so hard they will probably bruise later.

The doors slid to a close, after, and Espio knows it’s over, because everything – the escape pod, the sky, Amy’s hands as she tries to get him to move – everything is grey, a grey so dark he feels he’s going to be sick, and it’s nothing like he remembers the world before Vector.

So, yeah. He knows better than those fairy tales.

He just wishes it could help him find some solace from the mind-numbing pain he feels in his chest.

[the-odd-job]

Oh sideswipe what happened tell me, I worry about you you are suffering and I too😞😞😫😫

7 years ago

“Carrier, what’s that?”

The great big something blocked out the sunlight filtering through the waves. And there was noise, coming from above the surface—strange sound patterns that didn’t remind Sideswipe of anything he’d ever heard before. Even birds didn’t make noises like that, as far as he knew.

“That’s a boat,” their carrier said, swimming up to them. “It’s a human construct.”

Sunstreaker frowned, and Sideswipe followed suit after a beat. A boat? They’d heard of those before, but seeing one for themselves was something else. “It’s above the water?” Sideswipe asked. Sunstreaker tilted his head thoughtfully at the alien thing.

Sideswipe followed suit, after a beat.

“Yes,” their carrier confirmed, staring at the thing with them. “Humans use them to float. They don’t swim very well.”

“You’ve seen humans before?” Sunstreaker spoke up. They shared a surprised glance between them, before both pairs of young eyes turned to their serene carrier.

“Yes,” she said again. “A few times.”

“Are they dangerous?”

“…I don’t think so.” There was a note of uncertainty in her voice that had Sideswipe frowning at her. She was frowning too, before the expression eased away into a smile when she looked back at him. “They’ve never acted hostile when I’ve seen them.”

Sideswipe considered this a moment, and from Sunstreaker’s expression he was doing the same. Some of the other members of their pod spoke very negatively of the humans, but none had ever talked about any concrete bad experiences.

And their carrier knew so much of things.

He wasn’t sure if he would’ve called the situation safe, seeing her caution, but if it had been dangerous, they wouldn’t have even been here anymore. Carrier took good care of them.

As such, Sideswipe’s curiosity won over. “Can we go check it out?”

Sunstreaker shot him a sharp look, but he didn’t say anything as they waited for their carrier’s verdict. She’d gone back into frowning, glancing back at their retreating pod and clearly weighing their options. Sideswipe could almost guess what her arguments for both sides were. On one hand, there was always reason for caution, but on the other, ‘educational experiences were important’, as she always said.

Sideswipe waited anxiously for a response, resisting the urge to approach the “boat”. Sunstreaker kept looking at him like he was getting ready to stop him in case he did try to go.

But he didn’t, not before their carrier came to her decision and said, “I suppose we can.”

The red twin whooped and instantly sprinted towards the dark shape. It was moving gently in the small waves along the water’s surface, and as he got closer, the noise coming from above it got clearer too.

Definitely not birds. Although he could see birds too, circling above the boat, but their sounds were distinctly different from the ones coming from the boat. “Are those the humans?” he asked in wonder, slowing down enough to wait for Sunstreaker and their carrier. Their carrier was smiling, though there were clear tension lines on her face.

Sideswipe knew what that meant. ‘Be careful,’ even if she didn’t say it out loud. “Yes. They communicate like that with each other.”

He could feel his excitement only growing bigger in his chest. “Kind of like us!”

“Kind of like us, yeah,” said their carrier with a small laugh, bravely swimming up to the boat and laying one hand on its underside. Sideswipe’s eyes went wide before a splitting grin spread over his face and he rushed over to do the same.

It didn’t feel like rock or coral, or sand or skin, but it was solid under his hand. Sideswipe patted it a few times, and when Sunstreaker hesitated, grabbed his brother’s hand and laid it on the boat too. “Feel that! It’s… It’s… Very boat.”

Sunstreaker carefully smoothed his hand over its surface. “It’s kind of like an armored fish,” he said, and Sideswipe’s eyes lit up with agreement. That’s it, that was the closest comparison! Armored fish.

An upside down armored fish.

Dead armored fish. Those were upside down.

Their carrier laughed and was about to say something else when a narrow something punched through the surface of the water and struck into the depths. Sideswipe froze and Sunstreaker did the same, but their carrier wasted no time taking action by shoving them towards the direction of their pod. “Go! Out of here, now!”

She didn’t need to tell them twice. When carrier signaled danger, you obeyed or you died, and Sideswipe for one wanted to live to see another day. So he took the prompting right along with Sunstreaker, and they both dashed towards the distant shape of their pod, their carrier hot on their tails. The sounds from above water turned louder and more urgent, and only a few tail strokes later the sound of the water breaking sounded again-

Followed by a wounded wail.

“Carrier!” Sunstreaker’s cry had Sideswipe turning around to the sight of their carrier slowly sinking, a stick of some sort protruding from her chest. There was red in the water.

“Carrier!” Sideswipe parroted, changing course to swim back to her only to be intercepted by Sunstreaker. “No! She said we need to go!” his brother said urgently, trying to push him towards their pod.

Sideswipe fought back. “We can’t leave her!” he shouted, pushing free from Sunstreaker and racing back to their carrier, through the red tainting the water. The smell would attract other predators soon.

They had to get out of here.

“Carrier, come on, we gotta go!” Sideswipe cried, shaking her shoulder.

She didn’t respond.

“Sideswipe! It’s too late.” He could hear Sunstreaker’s voice breaking when he said that, before the felt his twin’s hand in his own. Sunstreaker began tugging on his arm, distressed clicks filling the water around them. “We need to go. Sideswipe, come on!”

The boat suddenly roared to life, and Sideswipe glanced up from their carrier towards it. It was moving.

They needed to move too.

With a sob Sideswipe finally gave in and let Sunstreaker pull him along, the both of them swimming faster than they ever had in their life towards their pod. Its members had turned back around, alerted to something not being right, but they were still so far away.

And the boat was gaining on them. 

“We’re not gonna make it!” Sideswipe gasped, glancing over his shoulder at the big, dark shape behind them. He didn’t know for sure what the humans wanted, but after seeing what they’d done to their carrier, he had a pretty good idea.

“We have to,” Sunstreaker growled back, swimming even faster than Sideswipe thought he could. He fought to keep up, hanging onto Sunstreaker’s arm for dear life. 

But the boat was faster. It reached them, then it went past them, and for a moment Sideswipe thought it wasn’t interested in them after all.

His hopes were shattered only seconds later when with a bang something was shot from the boat. The water’s surface splashed when something broke through its tension and a web spread out around them like the cloud of a squid’s ink. He tried to dodge it, and so did Sunstreaker, but it surrounded them faster than they could get out of its way. Sideswipe wailed when it tangled his limbs, and next to him he could feel Sunstreaker try to wiggle his way past it, but the more they moved the harder it became to get away from it.

And then it began to tighten around them. Sideswipe gasped when his world was tilted upside down when something pulled one side of the netting. He was pressed against Sunstreaker and Sunstreaker was pressed against him when slowly but surely the pull on the net began to lift them towards the surface.

“What are they doing?!” Sideswipe cried, pushing with all his might to get in some direction that would get them away.

But nothing worked. It kept pressing and pulling and lifting, and the sunlight from the surface kept getting closer.

Sunstreaker had no answers for him, only scared warbles that were so unlike his brother Sideswipe thought fright would make his heart hammer its way straight out of his chest.

They flailed to the last moment, but they made no progress towards freeing themselves before water slipped from their scales and the undiluted burn of the twin suns greeted them. Sideswipe squinted against the bright light blinding him, and by the time he managed to reorientate himself, it was no longer water beneath them.

He could feel Sunstreaker’s heartbeat against his tail when they were deceptively gently lowered onto the white deck of the boat. It was wet and sunwarmed when his skin first touched with it. Panic seized his throat and silenced him when the netting began to collapse and loosen around them, but he could hear Sunstreaker hissing and snapping behind him.

The humans, strange, four limbed creatures that balanced on two of their legs, weren’t deterred. When the net loosened and they could again move more freely, they descended. Hands all over him, pressing him down, and Sideswipe found his voice to cry for help in tune with Sunstreaker’s vocalizations of sheer anger and fear.

The ones there to hear, didn’t care. Their pod was beneath the waves, and they were above them, and the boat was still roaring and moving. Birds flew after it.

Sideswipe stared at the blue sky deliriously when four hands pressed his tail down, two his neck, and another two grabbed his arms and tied them behind his back with something soft that still wouldn’t budge when he tugged at them.

Sunstreaker wouldn’t quiet, but Sideswipe couldn’t see him. He gasped for water, but there was none to be found, and all he could do was pull the searing air into his lungs and hope it was enough.

It didn’t feel like enough.

And the suns were so hot. Carrier always warned them not to get out of water entirely during the day, because the suns were scorching and felt no mercy for their thin skins. 

Carrier was right, Sideswipe found out. He could feel his scales drying by the second and whined in discomfort, as if that was the biggest of his worries.

The humans made sounds all around them and gestured at them and at each other. Sideswipe didn’t understand it and didn’t particularly care either, at least not before one of them took a bucket and poured water over him. Based on Sunstreaker’s reluctant hiss of relief a moment later, they did the same to him.

It was a momentary comfort that the suns instantaneously began to undo, but the humans proceeded to repeat the motion every few minutes.

Minutes. The boat continued to roar and Sideswipe continued to tug on his bindings every few moments, to no avail, wiggling when he thought he could get away with it only for knees and hands to press more firmly on him to keep him in place and still.

Clouds were forming in the horizon and the suns were deep in their downward arc by the time something changed. The boat turned more quiet and the humans more active, and when he rolled his eyes he could just make out trees.

They were close to land, then. Very close to land.

If he’d calmed down any, that was all undone with that knowledge. Sunstreaker had quieted a while ago too, but now he could hear and feel his brother vibrate with deep growls.

Something was happening. Changing. He tugged at his arms again and flapped his tail, just once, but the humans’ reaction to that hadn’t changed. They pressed him down more firmly and said something to each other. Some of them left the boat only to come back moments later carrying… Something.

They spread it on the deck of the boat next to him, then grabbed him and rolled him onto it. Sideswipe took a cue from Sunstreaker and hissed at the handling, snapping at hands too close to his mouth, but he missed when they moved their hand away at the last second.

He wished he could’ve tasted their blood.

They didn’t let him wiggle off the sheet they’d placed him on, and then they lifted it, sandwiching him between the sides of the sling. Sideswipe froze at first before he began to flail with all of his might, but it was no use—he couldn’t get any purchase, and they merely carried him off the boat and onto the back of another human construct he had no name for. Sunstreaker joined him moments after, and Sideswipe… Mostly he felt too numb to care, but a part of them was so deeply relieved they were still together.

Even if they had no idea where they were being taken. “Are you okay?” Sideswipe whispered when the humans weren’t paying as much attention to him, turning to glance at his twin over his shoulder. He saw Sunstreaker staring back at him, eyes wide with stress.

Sideswipe suspected he looked the same. “Yeah,” Sunstreaker responded. “You?”

“Fine,” Sideswipe said, turning away before he bit his lip for the lie. He didn’t think Sunstreaker was that okay either.

But the humans hadn’t hurt them. Yet. It was really only a matter of time before they would, though, Sideswipe was sure of that.

They were left to wait with the occasional wash of water over them while the humans did whatever it was humans did. Sideswipe thought he was going to die from boredom before the construct they were laying on came to life like the boat had, and after it did he wished he had died from boredom. Anxiety spiked up high again and he couldn’t help the distressed chitter that Sunstreaker responded to with a croon that didn’t sound anywhere near as reassuring as it was meant to. 

The thing they were on began to move. Sideswipe could feel it beneath him, and see it in the passing of the trees and other, human made structures.

Off to where, he still didn’t know.

They moved for too long with the suns quickly setting and the air cooling to degrees that didn’t threaten to dry him up within seconds. The humans continued to pour water over them at steady intervals, kindness that Sideswipe didn’t understand the purpose of. What did they care?

But obviously they cared in some way for them to keep doing it. They kept it up until it was mostly dark and they came to stop in front of a large, looming structure that Sideswipe could only stare at wide eyed. Its height competed with the trees around it, but nothing about it looked natural or like it fit in with the above water vegetation.

The humans began to bustle again, moving around here and there and doing this and that. Sideswipe could only watch and wait, a tense ball of nerves that had nowhere to go.

Then they came for him. Again they lifted the sling and him in it, carrying him from the strange vehicle that had transported them, and through wide doors into the structure. It was lit inside with light that looked nothing like sunlight and was placed in strange dots, like stars, but larger and far brighter.

Sideswipe had no words for any of it, but they carried him through the mazes that reminded him of underground cave systems until they came to a great, great opening.

He couldn’t see the sky, there was something blocking that from sight, but it was so, so far above them. It had more of the strange light sources, beaming down at him.

He was so focused on the strange grandeur of it that at first he didn’t notice they were lowering him. But then he could feel the ground beneath him again. They laid him on it, and for the first time in too long he could see water. Not just a little bucketful of it, but an actual expanse of it.

Instantly he began to struggle, the urge and need to be submerged in that liquid of life overwhelming him. 

Again they pressed him down, though. Sideswipe screeched his offense and saw them wince, but they didn’t budge.

What they did do was cut his arms free, and as soon as they did, they released him.

For a heartbeat he couldn’t believe it and laid there, shocked and disbelieving.

Then he could see something yellow flash from the corner of his eye and turned just in time to watch them cut Sunstreaker free too.

They all backed away.

Sunstreaker stared back at him for a second before the both of them took their arms underneath themselves and raced each other to the water, diving beneath its surface to cheers from the humans behind them. 

Water blissfully muffled those sounds and Sideswipe swam as fast as he could away from the noise, ready to get away from the humans and their strange vocalizations and unwanted touches. Relief pumped in his veins when he could just swim again, and breathe like he was supposed to, and there was nothing restraining him or stopping him.

Freedom.

The heady feeling was only there to hit a wall, though. Literally, when Sideswipe swam straight into the obstacle that rose up ahead of him. He glanced up, but it continued above the water’s surface.

So he dove.

And it continued until it reached the bottom, without any hole or a passage through it.

So he turned left, and swam.

There was a wall there too.

His heart was beginning to race again, but Sideswipe turned left and continued swimming.

Until he came to a wall. “No no no no,” he chanted to himself when he turned left, again, and swam, again, and came to a wall, again. “No!” One last time he turned left, but in his heart he already knew the outcome.

He came to a wall. “NO!” In a last ditch effort, Sideswipe broke for the surface and against all reason stuck his head above water to have a look around. Everywhere he could see, walls. Ahead him, behind him, left of him, right of him.

Below him, above him.

There was no open air. No ocean.

He dove again, and driven by desperation, swam the outskirts of the container again.

Four corners.

Nothing but four corners. There was no way around it, through it, over it or under it.

Four corners and a floor deep below.

One last round and he came back to Sunstreaker who was staring at one of the walls with his arms crossed, a vacant expression on his face. “Sunny,” Sideswipe gasped. “There’s-”

“I know,” Sunstreaker interrupted him. “There’s no way out.”

He’d already known it, but hearing it out loud sealed it. With a whimper Sideswipe let himself sink all the way down, until he came to rest on the tiled floor and curled up against one of the four walls of the tank. Sunstreaker swam after him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and pulling him against his side.

Sideswipe went willingly and returned the embrace, burying his head against his brother’s chest. “What are we going to do now?”

Sunstreaker didn’t answer for a too long moment, and when he did, Sideswipe almost wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want to hear that quiver in his voice ever again.

“I don’t know. Pits, I don’t know.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Femslash February day 23

Prompt: Glass Fandom: Voltron Pair: Acxa/Allura Summary: Cinderella AU with Acxa as Cinderella and Allura as the prince.  

Once upon a time in space a baby was born. A baby of half blood; one part human and one part Galran. The babe had delicate skin of a soft blue hue and a sweep of hair the color of sapphire. She peers at her parents with eyes as soft blue as her skin. Regardless of blood, the babe grew up loved and cherished. The child loved watching the stars twinkle and blink and would often sit under them with something to read. The child grew up kind and caring with a mother who was just as so.

It wasn’t until the child turned thirteen that her life seemed to shatter. For their house nestled in a hidden corner of Daibazaal had been found. For the crime of marrying a human and birthing a halfblood, the child’s mother was killed.

Only after serving ‘justice’ did the crowd leave. In their wake was left a grieving husband and a timid child. The man thought that he wouldn’t know happiness again. Desperate was he, enough to fall for a cruel, cold Galra woman who had no love for a lowly half-breed. In his anguish, the man was blind to the mistreatment of his daughter.

The man was a trader and as such he was prone to travel for extended periods of time. During his travels, his daughter grew lovelier still. She was small for a Galra but it suited her well. At thirteen years, her horns had grown in, elegant and cut like polished obsidian. Mostly they were buried under waist long locks of deep blue. Her eyes were as warm and kind as her complexion was cool. For it, her stepmother and sisters hated her twice over. When the girl’s father was gone, the last scraps of false kindness fell away. They dressed the girl in rags and exposed her to various cruelties and neglect.

Mostly, they made a slave of the girl. They shut her away from the stars that she loved so, confining her to the dark and dusty underbelly of their home where the life and hope in her eyes diminished. And where her health deteriorated.

It became a pass time for the eldest sister to fling one of her opulent rings or ornate necklaces into a particularly large pile of comet cinders and have the girl sift through them to find it. So she was nicknamed Cometcinder.

More often than not, her complexion was blotted out by splotches of comet dust. “You should thank her, Cometcinder, she helps you cover your halfbree’s skin.” Says her step mother.

But Cometcinder feels no such gratitude.

On a night where the cosmos were particularly spectacular, Cometcinder could bear no more. The constellations were enticing, beckoning her outside. So she answered their call. In the cool night air, her heart fluttered with the joy of finally having a serene night, free of demands and demeaning words.

The best night of her life was followed by the worst. For her misdeed of skipping chores could not go unpunished. Her step mother dragged her by the hair into the house where her step sisters waited, sneering. “Maybe we should make her sleep outside.” The youngest suggests. “Since she likes it out there so much.” That night, they took a pair of scissors to her long locks, chopping away at them until her hair was fashioned into a scraggly and uneven bob.

They kicked at her and spat on her and stole the compass from her pocket. She’d fought furiously to keep her cherished item--the one thing that truly belonged to her--but they had pried it from her fingers. They crushed it before her eyes, so taking from her, the last thing she had of her mother.

But they did not take without giving. That night they gave her the news that her father’s craft had been blasted by the ray of a weeblum.

Even still, the kindness didn’t flee her soul. Though terribly shrouded in sorrow and reduced to finding companionship with space mice, she maintained generosity and patience.

Days turned to weeks and weeks into months, before news came of a gala. A supposedly flashy ball to celebrate the auroras and the birthday of the young princess Allura.

Meek and quietly, the girl inquired if she could attend. “Looking like that?” her mother sneered.

“You can dress me nicely and…”

“You’ll embarrass us.” The younger daughter commented.

Cometcinder swallowed, her belly tingling with heartache and yearning. Just this one night, she only wants this one night. As her step family departed, their space pods the girl hugged her knees to her chest and fought back tears.

If only to occupy her mind, she took to polishing the houses metallic floors and upkeeping and managing the data on the house’s computer.

With most housetasks aside, the girl wandered out to view the night sky. It must have been an hour before a voice like an electrical hum sounded in her ear. “You’re going to be late.” It commented.

The girl tilted her head and tried to find the source.

“Over here.”

She turned to face the computer. It had taken to projecting a hologram. An image of a small, iridescent orb that flashed softly and occasionally shifted color. “I have run through various simulations of realities and have decided that it is most optimal that you meet the princess Allura.” The robotic voice declared. The orb drifted nearer and Cometcinder took a reflexive step back.

“I’m mean only to help. I will make sure that you will impress.” The orb made its staticy promise. It hovered over to a dressing pod. “Step in please.”  

Reluctantly she does so. The machine whirred to life a soft green light scanned her up and down, taking in her measurements before producing an outfit for her. Replacing the rags was a slee one piece suit of midnight blue latex, outlined in vivid neon blue. She barely had time to appreciate it before the orb said, “now let's do something about this.”  In a series of zippy motions, the orb singed off locks of her hair until it fell evenly. The orb halted before shedding small beads of electric blue light. It fixed them into her hair and accented her horns with them. At the ends of her hair they dangled like glow-worm threads. It completed her look by placing a glass helm over  her head.

Satisfied and having completed its task it buzzed, “follow me.”

The girl nodded and allowed it to lead her down the hall to where her family stored their spare parts and discarded devices and machines. “Do you prefer a V-style craft or would you like a more classic spherical model?”

“Something simple.” Cometcinder answered.

The orb grew in size and flitted about, moving pieces and parts until an elegant black craft shaped like a jagged triangle sat before her. “I implore you to enjoy your ball. But my power has its limits.” The orb paused. “The system will glitch and shut down at precisely midnight. For an optimal ending, I advise that you leave before then.”

The Galra stroked the craft’s steering wheel, still skeptical of its reality. She smiled to herself; she will meet the Altaen princess after all.

.oOo.

The ballroom was nothing like she had ever seen. Vast and made of black titanium, UV veins of purple streaked the walls and ceiling. The floor glimmered and sparkled with chips of amethyst. She saw all manners of dress from simple one piece jumpsuits like her own to elaborate gowns with glowing hems and tall collars lined with LED lights. Hues popped and flashed from all ends of the color spectrum.

But most eye catching of all was the princess herself. She stood in a tiered white gown. Each layer had a ring of magenta light outlining it, creating glowing halos on the layers below. Her hair was fashioned in an updo adorned with various crystals in shades of violet and pink.

For as much as Cometcinder was compelled to strike up conversation, she couldn’t bring herself. It had been years since she’d spoken to anyone save for a space mouse and she feared for her social competence and mannerisms. All in all, the setting and its extravagance overwhelmed her.

She met the princess’ eyes and she flushed. The noise in the room seemed to swell as Allura broke away from Cometcinder’s eldest sister. She found herself shaky with nerves and her nerves whisk her abruptly away from the jubilant chaos of the ballroom.

Palms still shaking, she sat beneath the silently enchanting bursts of the auroras. She wished that she weren’t so terribly shy.

“Hey!” A voice greeted. “I was hoping to catch you!”

Cometcinder took to staring intensely at the back of her hands.

“I’ve never seen you at any of my balls before.”

“I don’t get out much.” She confessed. An understatement, considering that she hadn’t been beyond her yard in several years.

Allura laughed. “Well, welcome to the outside world! You picked a great time to see it.” She gestured to the sky and its drifting, dancing splendor.

“I’m more taken by you than the auroras.” Cometcinder admitted.

Allura smiled. “You have a name?”

She nodded. “I am Acxa.” It was weird on her lips, for it was the first time she had said her name since her mother died. Somehow, saying it made her feel less like an object.

:”That’s a pretty name.”

“Not as pretty as Allura.”

This time the princess blushes. “Hey, you’ve never gone to a ball before, does that mean that you’ve never danced?”

Acxa’s face grew hotter still. “I have not.” she confirmed.

“Can I teach you?”

“Yes please..” She paused. “Can we dance out here, away from everyone?” It would certainly make her feel less nervous.

“Dancing under the lights does sound nice.” Allura nodded. The princess walked her through the steps of The Weeblum’s Waltz and The Daibazaal Ditty.

As she did so she told Acxa of the bustling spacecraft travel center and of her favorite places to stray to when running a kingdom become too heavy a burden. In turn, Acxa spoke of her father’s ventures as a tradesman and of the cute space mice.

“Oh! You’ll have to show me one day.” The princess gushed. The way her eyes lit up almost caused Acdxa to forget the orb’s warning.

“I would love to show you them.” Acxa said as the half hour bell chimed.

“Can I?” Allura asked, her fingers traced over Acxa’s glass helm.

Acxa didn’t know what she was asking until she began lifting the helm. Acxxa curled her fingers around her slender wrists. The bell chimed again and that tiem Acxa jerked and sprung to her feet. Her sudden movement caused the glass helm to fall to the floor. She heard it crack but she had no time to be embarrassed, much less to mourn the semi-shatter of her beautiful helmet. She didn’t stop to pick it up.

“Wait!” Allura’s calls grew distant as she sought out her craft. “I’m sorry! I thought that you wouldn’t mind.”

Acxa’s mind spun, through her jumbled thoughts, she felt horrible for departing so hastily and without explanation. She couldn’t even say why she was so eager to get home when there had been a perfect chance to find freedom from it and from her tormentors. She took a moment of pause, considering letting the system shut down. But she couldn’t imagine that Allura would be captured by her scruffy and unkempt appearance. She wished that she hadn’t looked back. Allura stood in the vacant spot where Acxa’s craft had been, with her head hanging low.

By the time she made it home she was in rags again and her craft crumbled into trinkets and spare parts. There was no glamor in that house. It was empty and silent.

.oOo.

“She is smitten with you.” Acxa’s stepmother says to her eldest daughter. “You are going to be a royal”

It was all Acxa hard in the next several days.

“She’s smitten with a stranger.” The youngest scowled.

“Who abandoned her.” The stepmother reassured. “I can’t imagine she still has any love for the stranger.

Acxa’s eyes burned with tears for her lost opportunity and chance at love. Confined to her room for disopadiance and negligence of her duties, she was only able to get snippets of rumors regarding her rude departure. From them, she assumed that the princess must not think fondly of her anymore.

She thought it cruel that she had been given a taste of freedom, at what life could have been, only to have it so rudely yanked away from her.

“The princess is trying to find the stranger.” The youngest informed glumly.

“Then your sister shall try on the helm and insist that it is hers.

Acxa bunched her fists.

“She should be here soon, so get yourself ready, Ethnor.” Ethnor nodded. “Dress yourself well.” She turned to Acxa. “And you keep out of sight. We can’t have anything unsightly just prancing about.” Her demand came just shy of a knock at the door. The Galra woman cursed. “Stick to the kitchen she hissed. “And keep your ugly, half-breed mouth shut.”

Acxa sighed. “As you wish, mother. The word sat ill on her tongue.

The girl made her way to the kitchen as the door opened.

“Good evening princess!” Her stepmother greeted her with a false sweetness. It sickened and unsettled Acxa. She yearned to scowl and out the woman for the beast she was. And what was stopping her? Decidedly, she was a coward.

“Oh thank you, princess! I didn’t think that I’d find it again!” Ethnor exclaimed. She could practically see her fitting the helm over her bulbous head. A moment’s pause. Following it was a forced and gritted toothed, “I can’t get it on.”

“She is not my love.” Allura declared.

A warm tingle of hope swelled in Acxa’s chest.

“Give her a moment.” Her step mother hissed. And then, “are you sure that that’s not your sister’s? Give Ragna her helm back.”

Acxa couldn’t hold back a small snicker as she listened to the girl struggle. Her embarrassing predicament gave Acxa just enough courage to step forward. She lingered in the doorway fighting her brain for words. They didn’t come so she only stood there dumbly.

“Who is that?” Allura asks.

“Oh that’s just Cinder.” Ragna dismissed. “Our servant.”

Acxa bit her lip. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” She said at last.

“Again?” Her step mother asked.

Acxa nodded and reached for the cracked helm. “May I?”

“Please.” Allura said as her stepmother cried, “absolutely not.”

Acxa closed her eyes and pulled the helm over her head.

Allura looked as cheery as her step family looked outraged. But that time they had no power to act on their simmering wrath. Acxa stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the small princess, taking comfort in her warmth. “I apologize for leaving so abruptly, I had to make it back home before they did.”

Allura nods. “It’s alright. But a goodbye would be nice next time.”

“If you will…” She stammered. “If you will have me back at the castle, you won't’ have to worry about a next time.”

[queercapwriting]

Endgame Fix-It

Prompt from Anonymous for a multi-pronged Endgame fix it (featuring an Agents of SHIELD crossover). The prompt and the fic are beneath the cut. 

Prompt here:  “Hey Cap, how’s it going? I was wondering if you could write an Endgame fix-it for Natasha because I feel cheated that the first female superhero in the MCU was not included in that final badass fight scene.”

They’d bonded almost immediately. Carol and Natasha. An assassin and a Kree lie, surviving through the end of the world.

The irony of it all wasn’t lost on either.

Because Clint was wrong, but he was also right: some of the best people disappeared in the snap, and some of the worst were left to survive.

Carol knew she was a hero: Natasha used to believe something like that.

But they’d both failed to stop this.

And it showed in their eyes.

So they’d bonded right away.

But she wasn’t heading off to change reality because they’d bonded.

She was doing it because it was the right thing to do, and Carol Danvers was nothing if not a sucker for the right thing to do.

“Okay Lieutenant Trouble. I’m trusting your intel here. You say this Fitzsimmons is the best?”

Monica giggled a little and rolled her eyes, fiddling with her NASA jacket the same way Carol had a habit of fidgeting with her Air Force one. “Fitz and Simmons, Ma. They’re two separate people. And yeah. They’re the best. They’ll be able to help you bring her back, if anyone can.”

Carol kissed her daughter - so grown, now - on the forehead and her wife on the mouth, deep and slow, until Monica threw a paperback at them and Maria and Carol devolved into the parents of a three-year-old, tickling their child all the way into the back of the couch cushions.

It was the first time any of the three of them had laughed like that in years.

And then Carol was off.

She hadn’t told Clint what she was going to do, on the off chance that it didn’t work.

She hadn’t told anyone except Maria, Monica, and Fury. Fury was the one who’d told her that her own daughter could give her some underground SHIELD contacts that would be able to help.

That kid might not be a kid anymore, but she sure was on her way to building her own spaceship.

And a spaceship was where she found one half of this Fitzsimmons, and the legendary Daisy Johnson. 

Because even across the galaxy, people whispered about Daisy Johnson.

“I found this pod in space, and I kind of thought you’d want what’s inside. Or um. Who’s inside,” she stepped back as Jemma sprinted toward the pod, Daisy close behind her.

She watched as they unfroze their best friend, their something much more, and she averted her eyes slightly as they hugged and kissed and apologized and forgave.

And sobbed.

Lots of sobbing.

She couldn’t blame them.

Her own reunion with her once-dead lover had included a lot of sobbing, too.

“Did Jemma say you flew through space? With... with just your body?” Fitz pointed and asked after a long, long while.

“Sure did,” she answered, tilting her head and wondering about the intensity of both horror and hope she saw in this man. In all three of them, truth be told.

“And you brought us back Fitz as, what, some kind of exchange for helping you bring a friend back?”

“Not an exchange,” Carol shook her head at Daisy. “Nothing ulterior. But yeah, Jemma told you right. I do wanna bring a friend back. From the Red Skull’s clutches.”

The looks the three of them exchanged, even as Jemma fussed over Fitz’s vital signs, over whether someone named Enoch had set him up with enough nutrients and testosterone to last the journey, told Carol that they’d had their fair share of experience with Hydra.

“And how would we be able to help with that?” Jemma asked, simmeringly polite but just as protective as Monica had described.

“I heard you got brought back from the brink with Kree blood once,” Carol nodded at Daisy. “Me too. I was hoping we could use that to create a solve for the woman that saved the galaxy.”

She watched Jemma work on the biology, and she watched Fitz work on the physics.

She watched Daisy work on hacking the databases the two needed to keep their work going and she watched time go by with all these people around her, these people who were chosen by this life just like she was.

She watched until they had enough to give her instructions and best wishes and invitations to come back, because Jemma definitely wanted a chance to learn more about her biology.

Carol arched her eyebrows and smirked, just as Daisy and Fitz did, thanking them before flying toward Vormir.

“Your logic is flawed,” she told Red Skull before he had the chance to identify her, to tell her why he thought she’d come. “If someone willingly murders someone they claim to love to get their hands on a Stone, they don’t really love them, do they? And even if you argue that they do, if they’re willing to kill someone they love for the Stone, what else are they capable of? It should make them unworthy to retrieve it, if anything.”

“You cannot reverse what’s been done,” Red Skull warned her, and he opened his mouth to say more words.

Except, Carol was done hearing words out of the mouths of Nazis.

She was faster and she was stronger.

And his sick little guardian game hadn’t counted on Carol loving herself.

She hurled herself down, off the cliff and into oblivion. Not flying.

Falling.

The moment before rocks broke her fall - just next to the body of her old friend, still broken, still bloody, but miraculously, perfectly, there - she injected herself and Natasha with the serum Fitzsimmons had come up with.

Everything hurt, and then nothing hurt, and the waiting began.

It was Natasha who woke her up.

Natasha, looking none the worse for wear. 

Carol laughed and whooped and pulled her in for a hug, even as her own body burned with having died and then having not died.

“Science, biatch,” she remembered hearing Fitz mutter as he’d worked, and she laughed some more.

“Let’s take you home,” Carol slung her arm around Natasha’s shoulder as they both stood on shaking legs. 

“Did we beat him?” is all Natasha wanted to know.

“You better believe it,” Carol smirked, transferring her helmet to Natasha’s head and speeding them both back to Earth.

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title : N/A

Author : @aquila-and-altair

For : @bidoofgodofdestruction

Rating/Warning : None

Prompt : Post-canon

Author’s note : N/A

Izuru, or Hinata as they he decided to call himself, finished his work on Nekomaru’s pod for today. There was only a couple of students that were still in a coma, which meant that soon, hopefully within the week, all of their class would be awake.

Some students took more time to wake up, but Hinata had expected it. Nekomaru was the hardest to manage, as he essentially died twice in the simulator, and had a different body in the end. Mikan needed a more complex and meticulous work, due to her despair taking over her mind in both reality and the simulation.

Fortunately, Hinata was not the only one working to wake up everyone. From the beginning, he had Souda’s help for the pods, to lessen his work. As many talents as he had, he hadn’t found a way to duplicate himself (yet). And now, he had extra help. From someone he cared about in the game, and whose death had saddened him greatly.

It took him a lot of work, but he finally found a way to recreate her code.

Chiaki.

Chiaki, who helped him creating a new future. Who believed in everyone. Who sacrificed herself, by revealing herself as the ‘traitor’ sent by the Future Foundation.

Hinata, after waking up as Izuru, realised that Monokuma couldn’t have completely destroyed an AI, so after checking the other students’ wellbeing, and arranging things with Naegi and the others, he got access to the code for the simulation and managed to find the remains of her code, and got her back.

Now, more and more students were waking up, only a couple left, and their class would be whole again. As many of his classmates reassured him, they all appreciated their time at Hope’s Peak Academy, but it wasn’t the same as the time in the simulation. After all, in Hope’s Peak, they didn’t communicate much with each other, and this how she…

No time to remember that wretched girl, Hinata stopped his train of thoughts.

After all, he had decided to create his future, independent from his past as despair. This was why he decided to live on as Hinata Hajime.

To him, the situation was the best achievable for all of them. When he figured out the way to wake up everyone, he almost couldn’t believe it. When they tested it out on the first patient and saw the face of their classmate they thought to be dead, Sonia cried, Kuzuryuu looked hopeful, Owari jumped everywhere, Souda was somewhat wary, but in the end was too happy to care. Of course, the patient themself was confused. After being given a recap of what happened, it took a while, but they eventually reached a mutual understanding. The others were worried (even if some did not admit so), but Komaeda understood and accepted the situation easier than anticipated.

Komaeda spent some time alone, however he eventually reached out to Hinata. After a few weeks, they shared memories of their time in Hope’s Peak Academy, back when life was simpler, and yet their relationship had been complicated. Komaeda, who thought talentless reserve course students would bring less hope, and Hinata who admired the Ultimates. They had somehow formed a weird friendship, but in was meaningful to both of them.

They eventually had to bring up a touchier subject, which was their time as Ultimate Despair. Komaeda talked about the Warriors of Hope (Hinata had to stop himself from raising an eyebrow at a group influenced by Enoshima called the Warriors of Hope), and how despair allowed him to understand that who he considered to be talentless people could bring hope. At that time, he was making bad decisions, Junko had twisted his already obsessive take on hope to serve her own objectives, which was to bring more despair.

However, with a new perspective influenced by the three main parts of his life – his time as a student of Hope’s Peak Academy, his time as Ultimate Despair, and his time in the Neo World Program – he created for himself a new perspective on his dear hope. Hinata was quite content with his much healthier and sane way of coping.

With a small smile, Hinata went looking for Komaeda, as they had made plans to spend some time together. They still had to label their relationship, as they had kissed multiple times, and admitted to being attracted to each other and liking the other as more than friends, but with the mess that was their lives, they were taking things slowly, to their own pace.

Komaeda was in the library, patiently waiting for Hinata to arrive while reading a book. The islands were not connected in the real world, so they had to take a boat to get to the different islands. While none of them minded much, it could take some time to navigate between the different islands, which was why he had arrived in advance to their meeting? Date?… Once again, Komaeda did not know how to qualify their plans.

Still, he was waiting in the library, reading a book that was missing some pages. It made for a new way to read a book, trying to guess what happened in the missing pages. Each time Komaeda turned the pages, he could see the brand-new hand that had been offered to him by Souda and Hinata, as a token of apology and as the foundation of new relationships between them all.

He was glad to be rid of the rotting hand, that reminded him of the ways Enoshima found all of his weaknesses – his diseases, his only friendship with Hinata that had just disappeared, his loneliness, and his desire to be understood and loved – and used them to manipulate him. And he let her, because he had given up on his life, and his classmates’ hope that had once been shining had disappeared, starting with the double murder of Kuzuryuu and Koizumi’s family and friend.

But now, he had found new hope, and everything looked like it was getting better.

He looked up when he heard footsteps from the entrance of the library. Oh, it seemed he had been reminiscing for too long and had not paid any attention to the ever-flowing time. Hinata stood in the entrance way, smiling fondly at Komaeda. The luckster could not stop himself from blushing at that smile, and those gorgeous red eyes that looked like they were looking at his soul and cradling it up… he had to stop himself there.

“I’m sorry Hinata-kun, I guess I did not pay attention to the time,” Komaeda apologised, as he placed a marker and shut the book.

“Don’t worry, I had expected it anyway. Now, let’s go to that beach house!”

Hinata’s voice was soft, and Komaeda followed him as they went to the beach. The evening sun was beautiful, and formed, if they ever admitted it, a quite romantic place. They sit in the sand and stated looking at the setting sun. When one wasn’t looking, the other tried to look the sun reflected on their figures. After a while they both looked at the same time. They were startled when their eyes connected, but after a few seconds of total silence, they both started laughing at their awkwardness.

“Hey…” “Tell me…”

They both said at the same time. They chuckled again, Komaeda made a ‘go one’ gesture with his hand.

“Komaeda, do you… want to go back to my cottage?”

“Am I boring you already?” Komaeda asked, cheekily.

“No! I… was thinking… if you wanted to, we could… Stop smiling like that.”

“Am not.”

“Of course not. We could spend the night together, if you are okay with that?” Hinata felt uncertain.

“Mmh… Am I okay with that?” Hinata shot him an unimpressed look, and Komaeda grinned. “Of course. But we are going to cuddle, and I want to be the big spoon. You have been hogging that place for a week now, and I want it now.”

“Fine, fine!” Hinata relented, putting his hands in the air with a small smile.

Komaeda stood up, offered his robotic hand to Hinata to help him get up, and then started to run towards the boat.

“Wh- Komaeda! I know your illnesses are not life threatening anymore, but that does not mean you can start exhausting yourself for no reason!”

Hinata had indeed found a way to stop the spreading of both of Komaeda’s illnesses – he of course immediately sent his results to the Future Foundation to help other sick people – as his break from helping his classmates. Because, as Kuzuryuu put it, of course the bastard’s way of taking a break is working on other just as hard projects. It was a habit that came from both the original hard-working Hinata and no-hobbies Kamukura.

After catching up with Komaeda and giving him a short lecture, they got on one of the boats – the other would simply stay until another person retrieves it – and went back to the first island, where the cottages were.

As they left the boat, they intertwined their hands, and walked towards Hinata’s cottage, taking pleasure in each other’s presence.

Once they were inside, they changed into night clothes, finished their preparations for the night, and went under the covers. Komaeda had been in Hinata’s cottage multiple times, so he had his own belongings in Hinata’s cottage, and Hinata had his in Komaeda’s.

As promised by Hinata, Komaeda got to be the big spoon, at least until Hinata turned over, to look at Komaeda’s face intensely. Komaeda blushed again – he really blushed easily, didn’t he – and put his forehead against Hinata’s. They took in each other’s presence, and no words were necessary.

Hinata gave a peck to Komaeda’s lips, then rested his lips for a few seconds against Komaeda’s blushing cheek. They basked in each other’s presence and went to sleep with light hearts.

After all, it was their choice to make a better future, and they would take any chance they had at happiness.

[bellarnyblakc]

let’s stop running from love

For anon who asked for bellarke finally having a quiet moment to process the fact that they’re both here.

Bellamy and Clarke don’t wake the others from cryo-sleep immediately, and instead use these few minutes of peace and quiet to talk and attempt to resolve all the things that are broken between them. explicit, 3.9k, [ao3]

Jordan slips out around the same time they stood staring at the sunrise of the second sun over their new planet, their new home, their new chance. Bellamy looks around in concern, but before he can make to follow Jordan, Clarke grasps his hand in hers.

“Leave him be – he needs a few minutes.” She urges, and she can see Bellamy’s conflicting feelings, his heart telling him he shouldn’t leave someone who was in pain, and his head telling him that Jordan needs time to process. Slowly, he nods and the tension in his shoulders abates slightly even as the redness in his eyes doesn’t disappear. “So, what now?” she asks, slightly breathless from the sheer impossibility of it all.

“We wake Raven,” he says decisively. “She’ll know how to get us down.” Clarke tries to ignore the flare of hope at his words. We, he’d said and maybe he didn’t mean it the way she did in her thoughts but maybe, just maybe, he did. Maybe his we was the same as hers, the two of them together again. Partners and companions despite everything that had come before.

“How do we tell them all?” she wonders aloud, hoping he’ll put the tremor in her voice down to this overwhelming path in front of them instead of her yearning and hoping for them to be okay again.

“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

“I guess first we need to figure out how to open the pods.” She takes a bracing breath and makes to go back to the cryo room.

“Wait,” he says, and this time he’s the one who grabs her hand. “Just. They’ve been asleep for a hundred and twenty-five years. What’s a few more minutes? Let’s just be -” he trails off but she immediately understands the desire for a few more uninterrupted, peaceful minutes of no responsibility before they faced whatever was down there.

“Be what?” she prompts with a smirk. Lazy, she thinks he’ll snark back, but when she looks at him, his eyes are full of a myriad of emotions that makes her heart clench and arms ache to pull him to her, if only to let him know that whatever he was going through, he wasn’t alone. Bellamy, who had closed his eyes for what felt like only a moment and opened them again to find out two of his closest friends had lived and loved and died while he was asleep.

“Let’s just be Bellamy and Clarke for a bit. No sides; no wars; no decisions; no betrayals. The way it was always meant to be.” She feels hollow at his words, longing for a universe in which they could have been normal, with nothing pulling them apart over and over. It’s almost incomprehensible, how easily she’s able to imagine a happier life with him and how much she mourns the way it could have been, should have been when her relationship with Bellamy has been nothing except full of trials and tribulations.

His eyes are boring into hers, searching and hesitant and her whole body feels wound tight; the air around them electric; the two of them just waiting for the lightning to strike.

She swallows and looks away, edging away from the precipice she’s become so familiar with since meeting him. There’s still too much between them, too much uncertainty and hurt that they’re both holding back. She feels, rather than sees, his sigh and casts around desperately for something to lighten the mood.

“Funny,” she huffs a laugh, “Longest sleep I’ve ever had and I feel like I could use a nap right about now.” All traces of melancholy hidden, he grins at her; boyish and charming and something aches in her stomach for all the time she lost with him in which to watch him grow and evolve into the spectacular man he is today – time she’ll never be able to get back.

“Come on.” He pulls her by the hand back to the window and settles down on the cold metal floor, her hand still in his resting on his thigh, sending warmth all the way down her arm to her whole body. They sit in contemplative silence for a few minutes.

“Do you think we’ll be better, this time round?” she asks quietly despite her previous disinclination to talk about anything gloomy, she can’t help but seek reassurance that he still has hope that they won’t make the same mistakes and underneath that; a subtle, unspoken question of whether they both will be able to find their way back to each other across the chasm of misunderstanding and miscommunication and six long years apart that had opened up between them.

“We have to. For – for Monty and Harper and everyone else we’ve lost along the way.” He says earnestly. “We have to. We will.” He pauses to swallow and glances at her from under his lashes and answers her “We have each other.” She nods, and this time even her natural cynicism can’t dampen the flare of hope she has for their relationship to mend and take them back to when they trusted each other implicitly.

The silence between them is companionable and easy, despite everything unsaid and hanging in the air. She’s able to study him for the first time since he returned; the indentation between his brows has smoothed, his shoulders were more relaxed, his movements freer and less tight. The mantle of responsibility still lay heavy his shoulders but the blame he used to carry had been shrugged off. The darkness in his eyes had gone, and though there is deep sorrow, there is also a brightness to his gaze that hadn’t been there six years ago, a galaxy unveiled in his tired eyes.

“I really am sorry, you know.” She murmurs quietly, half hoping he was too preoccupied in his thoughts to hear. His gaze catches hers and the vulnerability in them makes her breath catch in her throat. “There wasn’t enough time to – to think. I had to protect Madi.” His thumb strokes across her skin, giving her the strength to carry on and let her walls down. “I didn’t think Octavia would actually…” he gives a sardonic, bitter laugh.

“Yeah, bit of a hard pill to swallow when the sister you’ve given up your whole life for sentences you to death.” She can hear the undercurrent of anguish in his voice and she can’t stop herself from surging to him and taking him in her arms, bodies pressed together, her nose resting in the hollow of his throat, his head resting on the crown of her head.

“You deserve so much better than her.” She says fiercely, slightly muffled by the warmth of his bare skin. “You deserve…” she trails off, unable to find words to articulate just how incredible she thinks he is. “You deserve the world.” She finishes lamely, aware of how meagre it is, but the way his embrace tightens around her, like no one’s ever told him this before makes the hole in her chest widen. God, she wants to press her hands to his chest and push all the love she has for him into his skin so he will never forget it. “You deserve someone who adores you and knows what an incredible man you are. I hope Echo is that person for you.”

He clears this throat awkwardly and pulls away from her slightly, hands settling on her shoulders.

“Actually, Echo and I broke up.” She makes a small, shocked noise, searching his eyes for any sign of pain, feeling wretched for the wave of happiness and relief. “It just wasn’t working. Not with… everything else.”

“Oh, Bellamy. I didn’t know.”

“It is what it is.” He shrugs, and pulls her closer again. “Everything changed when we got to the ground.”

She tries not to let this knowledge change anything, but she can’t help but be hyper-aware of every point of contact between their bodies (of which there are many – she’s practically sitting in his lap). That same feeling of electricity hums under her skin and she grows hot when his hands brush the small of her back.

“I still can’t quite believe you’re here.” She says in a whisper, and hesitantly brings her hand to cup his jaw in the same place that – just a few short days ago – she had slapped. His rough stubble abrades at her sensitive palm. She can’t help the thrill that goes through her as, despite herself, she imagines what it would feel like on other, more sensitive parts of her.

“Madi told me you used to talk to me on the radio.” His voice is gentle but even so, her face burns at Madi laying her soul bare for him to see. “God, Clarke. If I’d known you were alive, I wouldn’t have stopped til we fixed that radio. I’m so sorry-”

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry…” He places a finger to her lips, quieting her and she looked at him in surprise.

“Don’t apologise again. We’ve both done things that we would take back if we could. We can’t change the past, we just have to make a better future.” She swallows as the magnitude of his words hit her. He was granting her – not forgiveness, exactly – but a chance to prove herself to him and earn the trust that he had already given back to her.

In the light of the two suns, Bellamy’s eyes are sparkling, the golden light revealing flecks of amber. His eyes dart to her lips and self-consciously, she licks them, watching as his pupils blow wide.

She wants to lean forward, let their lips meet. She’s tired of fighting this magnetic pull between them but she doesn’t want to ruin the fragile, tentative balance they’ve found. If it was a choice between having Bellamy in her life as friends, or not having him at all, she’d choose his friendship every time.

“Clarke,” he breathes, and his voice is shot. Clarke has to dig her nails into her palm to ground herself, remind herself of all the reasons that this shouldn’t happen. But, Echo was out of the picture now and even though they’d both hurt each other more than they’ve ever done before, after laying it all out in the open, she knows it was never a question of whether they would find their way back to each other, only whether they would take the long way round or the short way. There was nothing in this world – in this universe – that would keep the two of them apart, not when they had both proved time and time again that they would fight their way back to each other through battles and betrayals and heartbreak. Bellamy was right, all they needed was a bit of time to just be Bellamy and Clarke.

But it was her who would have to take the first step, the first risky jump into the unknown. For all the times that she’d taken the first step away from him, all the times she’d turned her back and left him, it was her turn to take that first step towards him.

She presses her lips to his so gently it’s barely more than a brush of skin. She pulls back and stares at him searchingly. His hand comes up to cup her head and he pulls her back in for a deeper kiss, lips opening under hers, tongues sliding against each other desperately.

“It’s not too soon after Echo?” she asks against his mouth as she breaks away for air. She can taste his chuckle as he presses soft kisses against the corner of her lips.

“It’s been a hundred and twenty-five years, Clarke.” He murmurs. “And six years before that, and God knows how long before that.”

“Really?”

“Of course, Clarke. How could you not know?” and she did, she does. Six years ago, she knew without a doubt that he felt the same as she did. Six years ago, she saw the same love and admiration in his eyes that she felt in her chest every time she looked at him. Six years ago, she thought they would have had half a decade for them to reach their inevitable conclusion and their new beginning. But six years happened and so much had gone wrong after their reunion. She can’t help the burn in the back of her throat at the incomprehensibility that he’s loved her through it all, just as long, just as deeply as she does him. She burrows her head into the warm skin of his neck before he can see her eyes growing red.

He can sense her tears and nuzzles into her hair.

“What’s wrong?” he urges.

“I just… I love you.” She confesses, like it was ever a secret. His fingers clench on her waist and he brings one to tilt her face up so he can kiss her again, deep and searing.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I love you too.”

Clarke draws his lower lip into her mouth, sucking with enough force that it makes him shiver and groan. His hands work their way under her shirt, deft, calloused fingers exploring the divots of her spine.

“I want this off.” He murmurs distractedly as his lips map out the expanse of her neck. He growls when her fingers twist tighter in his curls and she barely pulls back enough to let him wrestle her top off her.

Her heart beats unsteadily in her chest as he gazes at her, full of adoration and openness. She wants to say something, wants to tell him everything she’s kept locked up for so long, but no words will do justice to the enormity of her emotions, so she just pulls him to her again and locks his lips in hers, nibbling and licking, trying to pour the depths of her love into his mouth so he will taste it.

He hauls her onto his lap so she’s straddling him, wrapping his arms around her like a vice so tight she almost can’t breathe. She feels close to tears again, not quite able to process that he’s here, he’s in her arms and she can touch him like this.

“I love you.” She repeats, stroking the dimple of his chin affectionately and her eyes are so soft and so blue and heartache and happiness bloom in his chest. He can’t find his voice to return the sentiment so he presses a light, lingering kiss to the swell of her breast, right above her heart. He mouths his way to her nipple and takes the bud of it into his hot mouth over the threadbare bra. He sucks lightly and she arches into him, unable to quell the moan that slips out.

Suddenly, she needs to feel Bellamy’s skin on hers, needs to feel the reality of his presence, let his skin burn itself into hers and she tugs at his shirt until he lifts his arms obediently for her to toss it away.

Softly, like he’ll disappear if she touches him too hard, she traces the lines of his muscles, swallowing his huff as she traces over his nipples and mesmerized at the way his abs twitch under the gentle scratch of her fingernails. When she reaches the soft trail of dark hair under his belly button, he takes her hand and presses it to his lips, not quite kissing, just holding it there so she can feel his breaths, coming unsteady and shaky. His chest feels hollow and full all at once and he wonders how he can feel such contentment and sorrow at the same time.

“I missed you, so much. Every day.” And really, there is nothing she can say to that. She missed him too, so much she ached with it but he knows, and she knows and now all there’s left to do is to speak out loud everything that was raw and bleeding inside them so they could heal.

He runs his hands gently down her arms and up her torso, over the swell of her breasts, mesmerized by the soft skin of her and she sighs dreamily against his mouth. He can’t help but rock up into her, seeking friction and her sigh turns into a gasp as she feels his hardening cock against her centre.

“Bellamy,” she whimpers into the skin of his temple and he silences her with a scorching kiss. His hands snake around her back to work at the clasp her bra and he pauses to pull it away from her body, air leaving his lungs in a soft whoosh as her breasts are bared to him, nipples flushes and beaded. When he meets her eyes, his gaze is tender and soft and something in her heart feels bruised with longing.

“You’re gorgeous.” He mutters as his teeth nibble the sensitive skin, hard enough to leave a mark “I can’t believe I get to…” he trails off, closing his mouth over her nipple and caressing the other between his finger and thumb, watching her expression to see what she likes. Heat builds between her legs, the slow working of his hands and mouth not nearly enough sensation for her. She bucks her hips against him, feeling him hard and hot underneath her.

“Bellamy, I need – I need –“ she rocks faster desperately searching for the right angle to soothe the ache between her legs, but Bellamy places firm hands on her hips to slow her movement.

“Shhh, s’okay. I’m gonna take care of you.” He breathes.

She bites at his chin, hoping the dirty flick of her tongue over the cleft and the hard sucking will encourage him to speed up, to lose control a little but when her hand snakes down to dip below the waistband of his trousers and jerk him off, quick and hard, he grasps her face in his and peppers kisses lightly over her jaw.

“Wait, let’s just…” Bellamy trails off against her temple, unable to express what he wants, but she slows down and searches his eyes and seems to understand anyway. He wants to savour this moment, wants to etch it into his memory, wants to catalogue her every gasp and moan and shiver, wants to memorise exactly where he should touch her to make her twitch against him. He wants to hold her in his arms and never let go, he wants to climb inside her and make a home for himself in her chest, like she has in him. He wants to touch and touch and be touched and pour every ounce of himself out for her to see. He wants so much he burns with it.

When he looks up and meets her eyes again, he has to bury his nose into her heaving chest, breathing in her scent, unable to face the raw honesty and love. He busies himself with tracing a path across her collarbone with his tongue instead, sparks racing down his spine as she rubs his scalp with her fingertips.

They kiss again, a slow, sweet slide of tongues, biting and sucking. He lets himself get lost in her again, the slow roll of their hips keeping pace with their kisses, the friction maddeningly sweet; too much and yet not enough at all.

Soon, Clarke can’t stand it, the pressure between her legs too much to bear. She kneels enough that he can pull her leggings down. He ducks down to nose at her bellybutton as he does so, then dips his tongue inside so that she gasps with it. She has to do a weird, awkward contortion to remove her leggings completely whilst not breaking contact with Bellamy, but when his fingers brush over her wet cunt, she grasps his shoulders and dips her forehead down to rest on his. His fingers circle her clit, and she keens, low and lingering, keyed up so much that even just his gentle touch makes sparks fly behind her eyelids.

“I want your dick inside me.” She gasps as his fingers just barely dip into her entrance. She urges him to lift his hips so she can slide his pants down and when his cock springs free, she takes a moment to trace the vein with her fingertips reverently. His harsh gasp punctures the air, hand flying to her hip leaving a smear of her own wetness on her skin and she lets herself smile, meeting his eyes.

He pulls her to him again, resting his head in her neck, feeling her pulse against his temple. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, I’m alive, it beats against his skin, and God, he thought she was dead for so long, but she’s not; she’s here in his arms, alive and warm and soft and pliant under his hands. If his eyes grow glassy with tears, she doesn’t mention it, just presses a soft kiss to the tip of his nose as she positions herself over him, hovering, the head of his dick just barely brushing her centre.

“Clarke,” he exhales, that one word loaded with so many things she can’t begin to comprehend.

“Bellamy,” she responds softly, and sinks down on him, taking him completely.

She’s slick and tight and mind-numbingly warm. His mind blanks out for a second. Her arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair and he just wants to hold her and never never never let go.

“God, you feel so good,” she pants and jerks her hips so that he drags inside her.

They find a rhythm, her barely lifting off him enough for him to thrust back, instead just soft rocking of hips so he’s nudging a spot inside her that makes her vision spotty. She clenches around him and he moans with it, biting his lip to try and regain some semblance of sanity as she murmurs his name like a prayer.

Clarke begins to lose track of time, lost in the grind of his pubic bone against her clit and how the head of his cock is angled in just the right way to drag against her in just the right place. Her vision begins to grow hazy, her awareness narrowing down to just them, just this; Bellamy’s heavy breaths against her neck, his arms banded around her waist, holding her impossible close, the slick of sweat and her own wetness between them.

Her orgasm creeps up slowly, a fire in her belly that grows and grows until it encompasses her whole body, warm and slow like syrup. She’s clenching around him, breath stuttering in her chest and it’s drawn-out so much that she doesn’t know when it begins or ends, only that it grows hotter and more intense when she feels him twitch inside her, spilling out into her while his hands press so hard into her hips she knows they’ll leave marks.

They stay joined for a while, nuzzling into each other, basking in the afterglow. When she lifts off him, Bellamy hands her his t-shirt to clean off and then raises his chin expectantly with half lidded eyes for a soft, lazy, satisfied kiss, and they dress languidly, grinning at each other stupidly as they hand each other pieces of clothing.

“We’re okay, right?” she prods once they’re standing next to each other fully dressed once again. He tugs on a loose, sex-mussed strand of hair and nods.

“We’re okay.” He promises. “We’ll all be okay.”