#I can absorb twice as much angst that way. I guess

[kingofanemptyworld]

in the mood for angst. might fuck around and reread sawamura’s yips arc in daiya

[eleni-cherie]

8 mile ✨ || myg au - chapter 2.0

"Thanks to you I could make my dream come true."

first time yoongi laid eyes on soyeon was eight years ago, at a rap battle in a rundown club. how could they know the effect they would have on each other ever since?

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masterlist: here

— genre: musicians au, romcom, humour, fluff, angst, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

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Yoongi shifted in his seat at the backseat of his car. His arm adjusting to Soyeon's shoulder.

The heater was blasting in full, but they were still shivering underneath their thick coats.  "Guess we should've gone to the bar instead," he sighed, followed by a light chuckle. "Sorry." She shook her head, glancing up at him as she pressed herself against his chest. It seemed like her body had absorbed the coldness of the snow. Shaking uncontrollably underneath her clothes. "It's alright. I liked the place," she smiled, "But next time we should probably come again when the weather's warmer." He nodded, biting down his bottom lip at her words. She said 'next time'. He sensed her trembling under his grip then. "I should drive you home." He wanted to let go of her and open the door, but she refused to move. Her hand gripping his coat. "It's nice like this though."

He pursed his lips and sat back to his previous position. Now embracing her with both arms in an attempt to warm her up. Hearing her giggle lightly. "This is awkward, right?" He cracked a smile as well. Her hair tickling his neck. "Just a bit unusual. But it's okay." She nodded, feeling the coziness of his arms around her. "I kinda feel like a teenie again to be honest," she mumbled then embarrassed. "Really? Why?" he asked confused. "YI don't know.. you don't feel like a teenie again?" "No, why would I? I didn't hug girls in the back of a car back then," he retorted in a joking manner. Making her roll her eyes in annoyance. "You know what I mean," she laughed, nudging his side. "I don't know how to act. I feel all.. jittery. And I don't think I like that.." "Aw, do I make you jittery?" he smirked. Earning another nudge. "A little.. we kissed." She didn't realise she was touching her lips at the thought of their kiss only a while ago.

"We did.." He felt his cheeks burning again at the thought of her pink lips and how they tasted. "Do you.. do you mind it?" "Hell no!" she exclaimed without even thinking twice. Making him grin.

"So you wouldn't mind another kiss," he stated then, matter-of-factly. Soyeon laughed under her breath. She was used to him being straightforward. But since when was he so cheeky? It amused her. "I wouldn't." He hummed, taking a look outside. It had started snowing again. "Soyeon.. you're sure about this. I mean, actually sure that.. that you'd want to be with me." "You make it sound like you'd be some criminal." "You know what I mean." "And I've already told you."

He exhaled deeply. Slightly fogging the car window. It was actually ironic to him.

If it had been any other way and they hadn't been working together, he would have probably been way more flirty and open with his feelings towards her. He would have made it obvious and chased her. However, because they were colleagues and he had worried for the way it would affect her debut, he had tried holding back. Surprassing any kind of romantic feelings that had been rising every now and then. Now looking back, he was unsure whether he had actually succeeded with that or not though. - Probably not, considering how much time he had still ended up spending with her. So perhaps, his subconscious had made him chase her after all.. However, at the end it was her who had confessed first. Unwillingly, but still. And he regretted it hadn't been him.

"Alright. But I'm not taking any responsibility if people do start talking," he spoke up again with a chuckle. Causing her to huff loudly. "Fine. But you know.. we don't have to tell anyone." "You wanna keep it a secret?" "Not really a secret. If someone asks, we can tell them. But otherwise we don't have to go around and inform everyone. Do we?" "Well.. I don't know. Shouldn't your manager know? And Mr. Choi?" She sighed. "Okay, yes. They should probably know? But otherwise we don't have to. Right?" He thought for a moment. His lips being pulled into a straight line. An expression of his reminding her of an emoticon. She found it cute. "Technically, no. It doesn't say anywhere we have to. As far as I remember." "See," she grinned, "And it's not like we'll be all lovely-dovey in the company building either. We're professionals after all." "True."

His arms wrapped tighter around her. It wasn't cold anymore. It was very warm. And not only because the heater had finally managed to warm up the whole car. "We should go," he said then to which she nodded. "Oh, but before I forget.. " She was about to ask what, when he had already pulled her in. Kissing her for the second time that night. And she didn't resist. Smiling into the kiss as she wrapped her fingers around his neck. Pulling him as close as possible on the backseat of his car.

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next chapter: here

[softboywriting]

Almost Lost You | Ex Machina | Nathan Bateman

Summary: It takes Nathan nearly dying to realize he loves you, but he needs to know you feel the same and will take some unnecessary steps to find out instead of just asking you. [TW: Blood] [Following the ending events of the film] [Light Angst] [Fluff] [New AI] [TW: Near Death Situation] [Swearing] [Sexual Innuendos] [F!ReaderxNathan] 

Word Count: 5.1k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Fear. It's not something you would think was in Nathan's repertoire of emotions. In fact in the last year you've been living at the facility and testing his AI with him, you've never even caught a hint of it. But now, you can see he is no God. He is a man. He is a man and he bleeds like a man. The terror in his eyes as he looks to you desperately behind the glass door to his bedroom is not something you would soon forget. His white sweater is staining crimson, nearly black with the contrast of the bright hall lights.

Beyond the glass, mere feet from you is the remains of Kyoko, her face torn apart, system core damaged by a blow from a weight bar. You watched it all go down, stared in horror, screaming to warn him about Kyoko approaching with the knife. He couldn't hear you behind the soundproofed door. What would have happened if you had gone out there with him? Would Kyoko have attacked you too? What about Ava? He saved your life in retrospect. Perhaps you could have stopped them both. Perhaps you'd be dead. Perhaps now you wouldn't be watching your boss, your friend, the guy you've come to care far too much about, bleed to death.

Nathan raises his hand to you, and you lay yours on the glass. He mouths something that you can't quite make out. You'll never hear him behind this door and you've no idea how to override the system and take it out of lock down. He points and you look back at the computer on the desk behind you.

"Computer?" You mouth and he nods.

He makes a sign with his hand and you suddenly are grateful he was insistent that you learn to sign the alphabet when you took the job as his assistant. It was for just such an occasion. Should one of you get locked in a room, or to communicate with him on cams when you're around the AI without speaking. He holds up three fingers. That means three words. You turn and scramble to find a sticky note and a marker on his desk before returning to the window.

You bang on the glass and he lifts his head slowly. Your heart is pounding, he's fading fast. Losing him is not an option and at this point you'd rather be in his place.

Nathan carefully spells out the code to unlock the facility. B E A M.  M E. UP. He's such a Star Trek nerd. It figures that would be his override code.

You get up and pull up the system control program and type in his passcode. Sure enough the lights return to normal and the door latch clicks open. You race from the chair, shoving the door open and sinking down beside him. "You're a fucking nerd."

"Yeah thanks." He barely chuckles. "I'm going to die."

"No you're not." You tremble as you take his hand. It's cold, he's cold all over. Skin turning pale. "Nathan, listen to me you're not going to die like this."

"Honey, we're two hours from anyone else. I'm going to die. If you move me the bleeding will get worse. I can't walk, you can't carry me."

You cup his cheek. "I'll carry you. I-I'll pick you up and we can call emergency services. Hold on just a little longer."

Nathan lays his hand on your shoulder. "You were a good assistant. I know I was a pain in the ass and I told you that you sucked. But you didn't. You're very smart. You're the best I had."

"Shut up." You're crying. "Shut up and stop being nice to me!"

"You want me to be mean?"

"No, just shut up. I want you to stop acting like you're dying."

Nathan glaces down at his torso. "I got two holes in me. I don't know what's been punctured."

"Please." You stand and look down the hall. The landline phone is in his den. "Stay here."

"I'm not moving too fast honey."

"Obviously. I'm going to call for emergency services."

"Mmm. Do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Move Kyoko and Ava before they get here. I don't need to deal with questions."

"W-what?"

"I haven't exactly gone public with the AI."

You stand and pinch the bridge of your nose. "Nathan, if I don't leave them out here the medical staff will think I stabbed you."

"And you think they will believe that a robot did it instead? No. We will say there was an intruder, they attacked me and you hid. Break the glass in the kitchen from outside and make a mess as a cover."

"Jesus fucking Christmas. Okay whatever, just shut up and stay alive okay?" He gives a weak thumbs up and you go to the den to call out for help. You're going to call emergency services and he's going to get life flighted out and he is going to live. He's going to survive if it's the last thing you do.

_____________________

Nearly a month later and Nathan finally gets to go home. You haven't been back since you left in the helicopter with him. It took three bags of blood to keep him alive long enough to get him into the hospital. The doctors said he was lucky to be alive at all and it was a miracle he made it over four hours with wounds like his. Nothing was damaged internally. That's the crazy part. Kyoko just missed his heart by a mere five millimetres. The other wound just grazed his stomach but didn't cause any irreparable damage.

You spent every day at the hospital with him. He tried to get you to go home, to leave him there but you couldn't do that, you love him too much. Without you he had no one. His parents passed years ago. No siblings. No grandparents. You're his family. It's sad.

"You know we have to go to physical therapy twice a week." You say as the helicopter flies toward the facility, trees zipping by beneath you. "That means long flights in and out."

"I know." He rests his head back on the seat. "My work is there though. I can't just relocate without it."

"I haven't been back since we left that night."

"I know."

You shift your feet against the duffel bag of stuff you've been living out of for thirty three days. "It's going to be a mess."

Nathan chuckles. "I'm going to have to get new carpet."

"Yeah."

"How good are you at home renovation?"

"Um...I painted a room once?"

He opens his eyes and looks at you. It's so nice to see that playful spark. The memory of his face, scared to death and bleeding out, it haunts your dreams. "I guess we'll learn to lay carpet together."

"You're not doing anything of the sort."

"I'll supervise."

"Nathan. Just hire someone."

"I'd have to kill them. I can't just let people in the facility."

"Nathan!"

He raises his eyebrows. "You think I'm joking?"

You shake your head. "I'll put in your stupid floor. No Hitman needed. You're ridiculous."

"Careful. I am careful."

"Oh? Careful enough to get yourself sta-"

"Hey!"

You narrow your eyes. "Speaking of which. Will you rebuild them?"

"No. I think I'll try for a male model."

"Why?"

"For you."

"For me? What the fuck do I want with a robot?"

"Companionship. Besides, I've only made females. It's time to change it up. If I'm to release them to the world someday surely people will want all options available."

"Why not make it non gendered. Just a body, no determinate features?"

"That's not fun. You'll like him. I've already picked out a name."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you have."

Nathan taps his head. "I've got all the plans laid out right here."

"Mmmhmm. Gonna make him fuckable too? Like you did the others?"

"Damn right." He licks his lip and grins at you. "I know you're curious."

You would never admit it but you are. You will definitely not be doing anything remotely sexual with the robot male. Absolutely off the table. If Nathan thinks you're gonna do anything he had best start finding a new assistant. You have put up with enough. ______________________

It takes Nathan no time to build this new AI. Everything is all at his disposal. He's made several. All it takes a few adjustments to the body forms, simple enough, some wiring changes and such. New downloads for his AI system to make them male presenting. It's all of a week of almost non stop work but by Tuesday you're being called to the lab to see his pride and joy.

You push in the door to the lab and enter the darkened entry way. It's almost midnight. You were nearly asleep when Nathan came on over the intercom system demanding you come to the lab. You wipe your eyes, sleep heavy in them. The bright blue lights blind you as you step into his work area.

"I'm here. Where are you?"

"In the back! I'm just making some adjustments!"

You wander past the tables strewn with parts and pieces and notes and diagrams. Mostly Greek to you. "I was almost asleep. This had better be g-"

Nathan steps aside and sitting on the table is another Nathan. No beard but a fine five o'clock shadow, short dark hair. If you didn't know better you'd think Nathan was pranking you with his own twin. But you do know that he is an only child. Which, how very much like Nathan to make the male in his own image. How self absorbed.

"Say hello." Nathan, the real Nathan, says as he gestures to the AI.

"Why does he look like you?"

"Who better to look like?"

You shake your head and walk up to the AI. You look closely, carefully. The hair looks real, the facial hair looks real. Like Kyoko he has skin head to toe. He's covered at the waist by a sheet and you presume Nathan is doing so as some sort of ego inflating reveal of what is probably an exact replica of his own dick. But that aside, the AI physically is flawless.

"Tell her your name." Nathan says.

"I'm Nate." The AI says with a soft smile. "Nice to meet you."

You look over at your boss. "You called him Nate? You couldn't even give him his own name?"

"He has his own name.  My name is Nathan. His is Nate."

"You're a jerk."

Nate extends his hand to you. "What is your name?"

"That's a secret." You smile slyly at Nathan and look back to Nate.

"A secret name? How intriguing. Nathan, do you know her name?"

Nathan chuckles. "Yes, but it seems she wants to keep it to herself now. Maybe you will have to earn it from her."

"Earn? Like a prize. Your name is a game?"

You giggle. "Sure. I'm going to go to bed now. I will probably see you two tomorrow?"

"Perhaps."

"Super." You say sarcastically. This is going to be interesting. You've tested his AI many times, spending hours talking with Ava and Kyoko. They were essentially the same AI in the end. This one could be different. You look back as you stand in the doorway. Nate waves to you and you see Nathan turn to look at you, giving a thumbs up. Here you go. Getting in too deep. You should have taken that desk job at the Hilton hotel.

_____________________

"Where is Nate?"

"He is in the test room." Nathan brings his glass of orange juice to his lips. "Why?"

You shrug. "Just wondering."

"Curious?"

"I suppose." You sit back and push your mostly empty breakfast plate away. "It's just weird you introduced me and then just never said anything else again. It's been a week."

Nathan raises his eyebrows. "I've been fine tuning him. Making sure all the eggs are in the basket."

"Uh huh."

"You'll see him soon enough. I've got your first date set on the calendar."

"Date? You mean my first session."

Nathan smirks. "Sure."

"I'm not dating your robot. Get fucked Nathan."

"Oh I hope to."

"Too bad your fuck toys tried to kill you so you had to decommission them."

"You assume I wouldn't fuck Nate."

"You're disgusting."

"Everyone wants to know what they fuck like. Of course I'd fuck myself."

You roll your eyes. "How conceited. By the way, no, not everyone would fuck themselves. You're disgusting. And Nate is not you."

"Isn't he though?"

"No." You push away and stand beside the table, gathering your dishes. "He might have your face but he doesn't have this fucked up brain." You tap your glass to his head and he scowls.

Nathan stands and follows you into the kitchen. "You think he's going to be better than me?"

"No one said that. I just said he isn't you. I know damn well you can't download your consciousness into an AI. So Nate might be your twin but he isn't you."

He just hums. That's it.  No more or less. Just a little hmm. It pisses you off. For some reason you're defensive of Nate and you barely know him yet. He's a robot. He's not real. Not...alive.

_____________________

"Good morning."

You sit up and rub yours eyes, vision clearing to that of Nathan sitting on the end of your bed. No. It's Nate. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Nathan sent me. He said that I should wake you up."

You glare at the camera in the corner of the room. The one Nathan claims is for security purposes only. "This is my private space. You're not welcome."

Nate looks to where you are looking. "Technically the facility belongs to Nathan and this room is borrowed by yourself."

"It's still my space. Nathan! I know you're watching! This is not okay!"

Nate stands and moves across the room to stand in front of your closet.

You get off the bed and go to the door to go find Nathan. If he thinks letting Nate roam the facility unchecked is okay, he's gone mad. None of the AI have been allowed as such except for Kyoko. Obviously we see how that ended up. "Nathan! You better show you're stupid fucking-"

Nathan steps out of the kitchen and you glare. "Did you get my messenger dove?"

"Messenger...Nate? You are serious about letting him just roam free?"

"Yep."

"Did you forget what happened with Kyoko or?"

Nathan pushes his glasses up. "I thought you'd like him to wake you up. You seem pretty taken with him."

"We've barely spoken."

"Yet you were curious about him, defending him and his unlikeness to me. Tell me, why?"

"I don't know. Get him out of my bedroom."

"Talk to him."

"No. I want to be in the test room. I've never been one on one like this besides Kyoko. It's weird and I don't feel safe."

"I promise he is safe. Touch him, talk to him. Seriously, I want to run this experiment differently than the others."

You look down the hall to your bedroom door that's wide open. "What if something happens?"

"Nothing will happen. Go on. I promise he isn't going to hurt you."

You swallow harshly. That's what you're precisely afraid of. Nate could easily overpower you and who knows how strong he is. You take a deep breath and head back to your room. This is what you signed up for. This is your job.

_____________________

"Where were you born?" Nate asks you when you walk in the bedroom.

"Um, I was born here in Alaska."

Nate walks beside your bed and you take a seat awkwardly. "I don't know where I was born."

"You weren't born. You were made. Here, by Nathan."

"Oh, yes. I suppose it's strange to think of being made and not born. What should I call you? I still do not know your name. Nathan would not tell me."

"Whatever you like. I’m still going to keep my name a secret. Names hold too much power."

"Kitten." Nate looks proud of himself. "I will call you Kitten."

You can't help the little chuckle that comes out. "Why Kitten?"

"I don't know. I just chose a random name from pet names I found in a Blue Book search just now."

"Alright. I'll take it."

Nate sits beside you. "Do I look like Nathan?"

"Yes."

"I thought I might. I've not seen myself in a mirror yet."

You stand and grab Nate's hand. It's surprisingly warm to the touch. "Come with me." You take him to your bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. "That's you."

Nate leans in and turns his head side to side. "Am I handsome?"

You cannot stifle the giggle that bubbles out. "Yeah, you're pretty handsome."

"Are you attracted to Nathan?"

"In a way I suppose yes."

"In a way? Does that mean you are only attracted to part of him?"

You sit on the toilet seat and sigh. "It's hard to explain. Nathan is visually attractive to me, and mentally. His intellect is outstanding and I'm fascinated by his brain."

"But?"

"But...he can be harsh. He can be cold and unyielding and stubborn. He is difficult oftentimes. I think he struggles to express himself."

Nate looks at you, staring to the point you feel uneasy.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"You are beautiful."

"Oh. Thanks?"

"You are welcome but it was not a favor. No need for thanking."

"How does a robot gauge beauty? Are you programmed to find me attractive?"

Nate shakes his head and stares at the shower stall behind you. "I do not know. I am not aware of all of my programming. Nathan has restricted access to much of my coding."

"Interesting. Well, I’m going to shower. You can go away and do whatever Nathan wants you to do."

"I will wait."

"Wait? For me?"

"Yes. Nathan wants me to accompany you while he works. So I will wait for you to finish."

"Wait in the bedroom then."

"Okay. Should I pick out some clothes for you?"

"N-no. I will do that."

Nate nods and goes out the door.

You lean against the wall and sigh. This is so strange. If Nathan wants him to pass the Turing Test he is flying through it. You've not spoken to him very long but it's hard to grasp that he's not a person. He's not alive technically. And what's with Nathan hiding his coding? What's that about? Ava and Kyoko knew how they were made and how they accessed information. Why would he keep things from Nate?

_____________________

"So, how's Nate?" Nathan asks over dinner two days later.

You haven't spoken to him since he had Nate wake you up. You assume he's been in his lab or in the office observing you and Nate. There is no doubt he's done that actually. Every moment you spend with Nate is a session, part of the experiment.

"He's good." You say softly. "May be your best work yet."

"Oh? I sorted out those bugs from Ava then?"

"Mmmhmm." You sip your wine and he smirks. "It's hard to tell he isn't a person."

Nathan hums approvingly. "He has already passed?"

"Yeah, I'd like to say so. I have a question though."

"Shoot."

"Why are you restricting his coding? Why isn't he able to access his programming details?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The first day he told me I was beautiful. Now, he's a robot and doesn't have a type or anything without it being hardwired into him. So I asked him if you programmed him to be attracted to me and he could not tell me."

"He lied." Nathan leans back on his chair. "Day one and he already lies like a human. That's incredible."

You narrow your eyes. "Sounds fishy. Maybe his progress should be monitored within the contained setting then. How long before he gets out? Before he decides to take a stroll in the woods and never comes back?"

"You're worried about him leaving?"

"It could happen right?"

"Yes, in theory, but I've programmed him not to want to do so."

"I don't understand why you made him at all. He says he is meant to accompany me while you work, but I am your assistant. I'm supposed to be with you, not your robot."

Nathan leans forward, elbows braced on the table. "I made him because I want to test him in a different setting than we had Ava. I think that's what drove her to revolt."

"You trap and piss off anything with sentience in a box long enough it will snap. How long before Nate realizes the whole facility is a box he's trapped in?"

"There you go worrying about him leaving. Why?"

"Because! He could be dangerous!"

Nathan shakes his head. "No you're worried about him escaping because you like him. You like him don't you?"

"Of course I like him. He's an incredible piece of technology that-"

"No." Nathan holds his hand up. "You have feelings for him."

"Absolutely not. He isn’t a person."

"Mmm. Your eyes give away everything."

You glare at him. "What do they give away now?"

"I'm getting a real fuck you vibe."

"Nailed it."

He chuckles. "Don't worry. I've collected most of the information I need. I'll put Nate away before we get to the point of him wanting to escape."

"What? Why?"

"I can't have a man with my face running around forever. He's a prototype like the rest."

"Oh."

"Don't be so surprised, Honey. You're giving away your true feelings again."

"Fuck you."

"Is that an offer?"

"Shut up." ______________________

The day Nathan comes to your room and takes Nate you realize that he is jealous of his own creation.

You and Nate had been laying on the bed talking as you usually did after you cleaned, scheduled appointments and played housekeeper all day. It was a normal conversation about your life and how you grew up and where and what school was like, but then Nate asked to try something new. That new thing happened to be kissing. At first you thought it was strange, to be kissing something not technically human. But then you found you liked it. His lips were soft, plush, and warm. He felt like any other guy you had kissed before. Then you realized those were Nathan's lips. Nathan's hands on your hip and cradling your cheek. That thought was both conflicting and arousing. So you went deeper, kissing him back, putting your hand in his hair, aching for more. If Nathan wanted this he wouldn’t have put it in Nate’s programming right?

Suddenly Nate was being pulled away from you, and you could see Nathan at the end of the bed holding his creation as he powered down. It was then you realized he was jealous of Nate. The way Nathan said nothing, just looked irritated, the words were all there. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want Nate to touch you like this.

After that everything began to make sense. Nathan made Nate in his image to test your attraction to him. He hid the coding because he programmed his own attraction to you into Nate. This has been an experiment but not for the progression of AI. It's been an experiment for Nathan to gauge if you like him more than an employee employer relationship. He is so stupid. He really didn’t see how much you care for him.

Just hours after Nathan took Nate from you, you find yourself outside the lab. The door is locked so you know Nathan is inside. He always hides in there. You type in your door code to override the lock.  

"System override failed."

You scan your ID card.

"User not permitted."

"Nathan! I know you're in there!" You lean your head on the door. "We need to talk!"

He doesn't hear you. Of course he doesn't. The idiot genius soundproofed everything. You look to the camera and wave at it. There's a chance he has up the camera feed at the desk.

No response.

"If you wanted to ask me out you didn't have to make a fucking robot to do it!"

The door clicks behind you and you press in to open it. Inside is Nathan parked at his computer, eyes glued to the screen while his fingers go a mile a minute.

"You heard me and you know it."

"What do you want? I'm busy."

"Why did you take Nate?"

Nathan doesn’t look away but you can tell he has an eyebrow quirked up. "Take him? I told you I would be putting him away soon. I got what I needed."

You walk around in front of his computer monitors and he flicks his eyes up for just a moment. "What was it you needed?"

"Data. I collected what I needed. You were very helpful. Good job." He sounds so sarcastic it's sickening. "What did you really come here for?"

You sigh. "Nathan, do you like me?"

"Of course I like you. I wouldn't have hired you and let you into my facility if I didn't."

"That isn't what I mean."

He sighs irritably.

"Use your words genius."

"Go away."

"No. I want answers. Why did you make Nate look like you? Why did you make him attracted to me? Why did you hide his coding so he couldn't tell me if he was programmed to do or say certain things? Why did you bust in when he kissed me?"

"I told you! I needed to collect data! I got what I needed!"

"Data for what?! For what, Nathan?!"

He pushes away from the desk and stands, eyes locked on yours. "For me!"

You fold your arms over your chest. "Answer the questions then. Do you like me? More than your assistant. Do you enjoy my company and are you attracted to me?"

"Yes, yes to all of the fucking above." He clenches his jaw. "There. Happy?"

"Not really. I don't exactly understand why you had to go through all this shit to admit that or bring it up. I watched you dying just over a month and a half ago and I-" your voice stops as your emotions get the best of you. Your chest tightens up and you can't breathe. "I stayed in that hospital every day with you."

"I know."

"I had nightmares every fucking night because of you." You're crying, shaking, hands clenched in your shirt. "I would wake up and lay my hand on your chest to make sure you were breathing because I was so fucking scared of losing you."

Nathan swallows hard. "I know."

"After all that, you had to make an AI to find out if I am attracted to you? To find out that I care about you?"

"I just- I thought you might just have felt compelled to do all of that because of your job."

"My job?! Nathan! You may be a genius but fuck you are moron when it comes to reading people! If I just cared about the job I would have fucking left. I wouldn't have lived in a hospital room for thirty three fucking days if I didn't love you."

Nathan stares over his glasses and it's not condescending at all. In fact he looks floored, bewildered by your words. "You love me?"

"Yes." You walk around the desk and stand in front of him only inches away. "I love you and I'm attracted to you and I want to be here with you as more than your assistant. Nate really solidified that for me because when he kissed me all I could think about was you, all I could imagine was your hands and your lips. Which they kind of were but-"

Nathan grabs your face, hands cradling your cheeks and pulls you in for a kiss. "Couldn't stand seeing him kiss you."

"So you were jealous?"

He licks into your mouth and you let out a soft moan. He kisses far better than Nate, but you suppose it's because he is human with actual experience. "Never thought I could be jealous of my own creation. I knew I couldn't let him fuck you and if things kept going the way they were, well..."

"That wouldn't have happened."

Nathan chuckles deeply. "Oh I think you would have been convinced. You let him kiss you after all and you were getting very into it."

"Sure you didn't wanna see that? Watch your own likeness fuck me?"

"So you would have done it? Would have gotten off on knowing I watched?" He slides his hands up your back and pulls you to his chest. "You're kinkier than I thought."

You roll your eyes. "And you're a narcissist."

"Maybe. But you like it."

"I like most things about you, even your insufferable ego, but I don't know if narcissism is one of the things I like."

"Mmm. Tell me, would you be up for some fun with Nate? You me and him?"

"Nathan! Jesus Christ I tell you I love you and you want a threesome?!"

He laughs. "I'm joking. I love you too by the way. You really wormed your way into my heart and made a little nest." He runs his hand through your hair. "My kitten."

"Wait... that's what Nate called me because I wouldn't give him my name."

"I know."

"But he said he picked it at random."

"No. I programmed him to call you that. It's my favorite nickname." He leans in and kisses your nose. "You seemed to like it."

"I do."

"Then I'll keep it. I like it better than honey or sweetheart." He presses his head to yours and you stare back at him, his eyes such a beautiful amber brown. "Thank you by the way."

"For what?"

"For saving my life. I never thanked you. If you hadn't been there I would have died."

You wrap your arms around his back and grip his shoulders. "If you hadn't locked me in the office we both would be dead."

"I don't think so. You would have been able to warn me about Kyoko. I was outnumbered without you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to watch that all happen." Nathan presses a hard kiss to your forehead and his beard tickles your nose. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Even though I'm difficult and horrible at reading people?"

"Even though you're difficult, horrible at reading people, terrible at socializing and far too egotistical for your own good. You have my heart."

He smiles softly and you think you might melt. "I'll take good care of it. I promise."

"Good. I'm trusting you."

"And I'm trusting you. Finally."

End

-----------

Header by delicate-venus

Thank you for reading. Please reblog if you read or are going to read! Thank you! - A

[avnkin]

THE BET ( jj maybank. )

Chapter 8 - Intoxicating

word count: 2k

warnings: mentions of sex, foul language, alcohol & the usual dash of angst

author’s note: it’s been a while but i’m getting my inspo back finally lmao hope you enjoy this chapter gif is by @heapass also veins oml

series masterlist

You and JJ hadn’t spoken a word to each other after what had happened. You’d just laid silently in his bed, listening to each other’s heavy breaths as you got your heartbeat to slow down from your previous endeavours.

“So what does this mean?” JJ was the first to break the silence as he rolled over to look up at you.

“Uh- i’m not sure, do you want this to mean something?” you hesitantly asked moving down a little so you were at eye level with each other.

“Yeah I do, but I think I may need some time to get over you and Rafe- I just can’t get the image of you two together out of my head”

That sentence made your blood boil, even if you wanted to get back together you weren’t about to let him blame you for everything that went wrong in your relationship.

“JJ are you being serious right now? It’s not like I cheated on you, we were broken up when I kissed Rafe!” you chided getting out of the bed, covering your naked body with his bed sheets.

“I don’t care and I wouldn’t have minded it as much if it had been anyone but Rafe! He’s made all of our lives living hells for the last year- I mean he nearly cost Pope his job! So it’s not because you made out with someone it’s who it was with!” JJ snapped back getting out of bed after you, quickly pulling on his boxers.

“You’re such an asshole! I don’t even know how I thought of getting back together with you!” you retorted hastily walking around the room in an attempt to find your clothes.

Once you finally managed to get fully dressed you went to unlock the door but JJ pulled you back before you could leave.

You quickly snatched your hand out of his grasp not giving him a chance to talk “give me a call once you’ve decided to stop being a self absorbed asshole” you grumbled slamming his bedroom door shut in his face.

You stormed out of the chateau still adjusting your clothes, when Kiara pulled into the driveway with Pope and John B, perfect timing.

“Hey-“ Pope started but was cut off by you crashing into his shoulder as you stormed past your three clueless friends.

“What was that about” Pope questioned turning to Kiara and John B who stood there, bewildered at your sudden outburst.

“Fuck” Kiara mumbled once she remembered the reason you’d been here in the first place, practically running into the chateau to find JJ.

“What the hell happened!?” Kiara shrieked as she pushed open the door into JJ’s room who just shook his head and let himself fall down onto his mattress.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he shrugged her off not bothering to look up at her.

“Don’t give me that bullshit JJ, I drove Y/N here earlier so you two could make up and then I see her practically crying running out of here so what happened!”

“It didn’t work out alright! We’re not getting back together and we’re not gonna be friends again, okay!?”

“was that your decision or hers?” Kiara countered.

“Hers! or- I mean I just told her that it would take time to get over the thing with Rafe and she just lost it!”

“JJ are you kidding me? You dated her for a bet and she was able to forgive you for that and you’ve got the audacity to be mad at her for something she did when you were broken up! Come on JJ you’re better than that”

“But its Rafe-“ Kiara quickly cut him off.

“I know! Do you think I like the fact she chose him of all guys to be with? But she was hurting because she thought that the guy she really wanted was only with her for money, you both need to sort your shit out because this is getting really tiring for all of us” she spoke gesturing towards her, Pope and John B who stood in silence behind her clearly taken aback by her words.

JJ scoffed not bothering to respond simply pulling a shirt over his head and walking past the three pogues towards the front door.

“You’re just gonna leave?” Kiara chided following after him “yeah I am” he replied coldly before slamming the door shut in her face.

Tears were furiously running down your cheeks as you walked the road down the cut that lead to figure 8.

Deciding to walk home maybe hadn’t been the brightest idea you had, it was so hot you thought you were going to pass out but you refused to spend another minute with JJ.

A sudden honk from behind you made you jerk around, only picking up your pace when you saw Wards all to familiar jet black Range Rover, not needing to guess twice as to who was sat in the drivers seat.

“Y/N?” Rafe leaned out the window as he pressed on the break just enough so he was able to drive alongside you.

“Go away” you replied curtly beginning to walk even faster although you knew your chances of outrunning a car were not in your favor.

“Come on Y/N let me drive you home you’re gonna melt out here in this heat” he sounded sincere his eyebrows contorting, silently begging for you to get into the car.

You came to an abrupt halt as you turned to face him arm crossed over your chest. You had two options one walk home in the burning heat which would probably take you around two hours or get into the car with Rafe and have to endure his company for 10 minutes.

You went with the latter huffing before pulling the door handle and getting into the car without a word, although you couldn’t contain the moan that slipped past your lips once the cool air from the AC met your flaming skin.

“Y/N I just wanted to-“ he began but you cut him off raising your index finger towards his face “stop I don’t wanna hear it just drive me home” he nodded obviously disappointed but kept on driving either way.

Once you pulled into your driveway he gave you one last pleading look but you didn’t give him a chance to talk muttering a small thanks before slipping out of the passenger seat and slamming the car door shut in his face.

You were in desparate need of a shower your sweaty skin beginning to stick to the shirt that loosely hung over your body.

You decided to push all thoughts of JJ into the back of your mind as you turned the shower on wanting nothing more than to take back the fact that you’d gone and slept with him.

“Idiot” you mumbled shaking your head the warm water travelling down your body the only comfort you felt you needed right now.

Just as you began to feel the corner of your eyes brim with tears you were startled to hear the bathroom door open.

“What the hell!” you shrieked once you saw Kiara walk in with a large purple backpack slung over her shoulder.

“That door was locked!” you yelled hurriedly grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself.

“I know that’s why I have a knife” she deadpanned before placing the silver object she’d obviously stolen from your kitchen on the bathroom counter.

“What do you want Kie?” you huffed finally stepping fully out of the shower and onto the white tiled floor.

“You, me” she lifted up the backpack she’d been holding “and our dear friend vodka”

“I love you” you gushed grabbing the bag out of her hands and walking into your bedroom gently placing it on your bed.

“What’s the occasion?” you turned to face her “the occasion is a party down at the cut” she smiled sitting down on your bed unzipping the bag revealing the numerous amount of white claws and the huge bottle of vodka.

“God are you trying to kill me? you know i’m a lightweight” you gaped at the numerous beverages but still grabbed a white claw quickly opening it and taking a large sip.

“Who said any of this was for you” she raised an eyebrow an amused smile playing at her lips “shut up” you laughed.

“You owe me this whole thing is your fault” you took another sip out of the can before it was harshly ripped away from you the liquid spilling all over your arm.

“Oh so it’s my fault you hooked up with Rafe” Kiara placed a hand on her hip as she held the white claw up with her other hand.

“No” you snatched the drink back before continuing “it’s your fault that I went to JJ’s which ultimately led to the decision of me sleeping with him and making a complete fool of myself in the progress”

“Fair enough” she surrendered “get ready we need to be down at the beach in half an hour”

Once you’d made it down to the beach you’d already downed four white claws and three shots the alcohol running through your veins making you feel dizzy as you walked alongside Kie towards the crowd of teenagers all packed together around the keg watching as a girl you didn’t recognised stood in a handstand downing the beer without a struggle.

“I could do that” you slurred Kiara’s head turning in the direction you were looking “no you couldn’t” she chuckled dragging you towards John B and Pope who looked beyond shocked to see you.

“Y/N?” John B looked almost panicked as he abruptly stood up his eyes frantically beginning to dart all over the beach before stopping and widening as he looked at something behind you.

You turned to where his eyes were directed and you were horrified at the sight before you. There he was none other than JJ Maybank himself with his tongue shoved down some girls throat.

“That asshole!” you practically growled throwing the white claw you held down onto the sand as you made a bee line towards him, Kiara frantically picking up the can before following after you.

“Real classy J” you sneered a scowl resting on your face as you gave him the most disgusted look you could muster.

“Y/N” was all he said as he turned to face you, he didn’t even look sorry.

“So this is your way of trying to repair our relationship” you shot at him and the girl quickly stood up practically running away from the scene unfolding before her.

“Hey i’m just doing what you’ve been doing all along” he replied curtly standing up to face you.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean JJ” you were surprised at your ability to form a whole sentence since you didn’t exactly see straight, but this whole exchange seemed to be sobering you up.

“I saw you earlier getting into that car with Rafe!”

“What? you were following me?”

“Yes! Because I wanted to come and apologise for how I acted but clearly I was right all along!”

“JJ I didn’t ask him for a ride or call him he offered and I accepted because because I didn’t really feel like walking all the way from the cut back home in the burning heat!” a hint of regret washed over his face at your words but you continued “It doesn’t even matter I don’t have to explain myself to you”

He was about to open his mouth and say something but you didn’t give him the chance. “We’re over and this time I mean it”

You suddenly became more aware of the crowd that had begun to gather around you and you quickly turned around pushing your way past the teenagers that were huddled behind you.

“Are you okay?” a frantic voice belonging to Kiara sounded from beside you.

You swallowed the lump that was beginning to form in your throat and turned to face her pasting on a fake smile as you did.

“I’m fine” you knew she didn’t buy it but she could tell from the look in your eyes that you were silently begging her not to press on it any further, you wanted to have fun tonight and you were not going to let JJ get in the way of that.

“Come on let’s get drunk”

[hashtagdex]

ok ok angst 18 and/or fluff 11 for nurseydex?

thank you so much for these! have Both prompts!

“Leave! Me! Alone!” and “I think I’m in love with you”

-

Usually, Nursey prides him on being a chill guy, but right now he feels like he's going to lose his mind.

He skips the tenth song in the past minute, Tango's knee bumping into his under the table for the third time. It's not like it matters, though. He can hear Tango, Whiskey and Chowder's conversation about last night’s Falcs game against the Devils clear as day even through the music. 

His head is throbbing from squinting down at his notes to try and decipher them, his hand is starting to cramp up as he finishes another page, and he can’t get any damn peace.

With a sigh, he puts his pen down, takes his glasses off, and squeezes the bridge of his nose. Studying in the Haus kitchen really wasn’t his brightest idea, but people would’ve come up to him at the library to talk to him and he wouldn’t get shit done upstairs either.

All he wants is to make it up to his room, crawl under his blanket, and not come out again for the rest of the week. But he can't do that, because he has more than twice as many notes left to copy as he's already gone through.

"Woah, Nursey," Tango starts as he wrestles open a protein bar, and the noise of the struggling wrapper grates even more on Nursey's nerves, "you okay? You look really unchill right now."

Tango's knee bumps against his again. Nursey's head snaps up to look at him, scowling as he forces out, "No, Tony, I'm not fucking okay. I have about a million more pages to do, all of my music fucking sucks, and I can still hear you guys through it! And then you just keep fucking knocking into me!"

Chowder reaches out to touch his forearm. "Nursey—"

"Please just leave me alone!" 

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Tango’s expression crumbles and Nursey’s heart sinks. Chowder draws his arm back with a sigh. He knows he has no right to snap at Tango, but now the words are out there and his frustration is still running sky fucking high.

Chowder sends him a hard look as he herds the Tadpoles out of the kitchen. He’ll apologize to Tango later, once he’s calmed down, but right now he's stressed and annoyed and there’s still a never ending pile of work left for him.

He swallows the guilt that rises up, slips his glasses back on, and returns to the next page of notes.

He gets about half a page in before he feels strong hands touch and then squeeze his shoulders in a way that's grounding instead of grating.

Dex. It has to be. No one else really knows how to help him when he's overwhelmed like this.

Nursey pulls out one of his earbuds and turns to face Dex. "I really have to get this done, man."

Dex takes his hands off Nursey’s shoulders—Nursey kind of, embarrassingly, misses the pressure—and fixes him with an unimpressed look. “How long have you been studying?”

Nursey’s eyes flick over to the clock on the wall and, wow, alright. “Uh, five hours, give or take?”

When he started, the sun was still up and the kitchen was deserted. Sometime around hour two or three, Chowder, Whiskey, and Tango showed and asked if it’s fine for them to join him. He grunted out a sure, deep in the notes he took in class earlier. Now it’s dark out.

Dex shifts his weight. “And how much of it are you actually absorbing?”

“Not much,” Nursey admits, crossing his legs under the table. 

“Okay,” Dex says with a nod, “time for a break then, c’mon.”

“No, Dex,” Nursey protests, “I need to get this done.”

“Nursey, you’re stressed out,” Dex reasons, and yeah, no shit. “If you keep going now, it won’t do you any good. If anything, it’ll make you even more miserable.”

Nursey huffs. “When did you start making sense?”

Dex just sends him a small, soft smile that Nursey only ever sees when they’re alone. “I know your next exam isn’t until next week. You have time, I swear. You can finish tomorrow. Or later, at least. Self care, y’know?”

Nursey tries to say no, he really does, but in the end, he’s weak when it comes to Dex. Yeah, he’s surprised too. “Fine,” he finally relents. Dex’s smile grows and Nursey has to look away.

With a defeated sigh, he collects his stray pieces of paper, puts his pens back into his case, and lets Dex pull him out of the chair, up the stairs, and all the way into his room.

Inside, Nursey drops his stuff on his desk, then pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Do you want me to go? I can get you something for your headache or maybe a snack. I bet you haven’t eaten the whole time,” Dex asks, lingering by the door.

To his surprise, Dex has become one of the most calming presences in Nursey’s life. Dex and calming should be an oxymoron in and of itself, but here he is, craving Dex’s company. “Actually, could you stay?”

Dex’s smile returns. “Sure,” he agrees and steps back into the room as Nursey turns his attention back to his phone.

Nursey starts typing a text to Tango and out of his periphery, he notices Dex pulling something down from Nursey's bunk and settling down into his old bed.

"C’mere.”

Once he’s sent the I'm sorry for earlier, it wasn't chill of me to lash out at you like that, I’m just mad stressed right now to Tango, Nursey looks up. He finds Dex sitting against the board with a pillow behind his back, his legs spread apart, and Nursey’s comforter at the foot of the bed. "What?" Nursey asks as Dex pats the spot between his legs.

“I’m gonna help you relax, c’mon,” Dex says and pats the mattress again.

Nursey quirks up an eyebrow, but he drops his phone and glasses on his desk and makes his way over to the bed anyway. “Don’t massage my face, you’ll just clog my pores,” he warns.

Dex laughs and Nursey feels more tension drain from his shoulders. “I won’t, I promise.”

Once Nursey’s settled in, both of their legs under his comforter, Dex pulls him against his chest. “Is this okay?”

Nursey nods and leans more of his weight against Dex, pillowing his head near Dex's shoulder.

"Good," Dex says and Nursey swears he can hear the smile in his voice.

Dex takes Nursey's right hand into both of his and starts massaging it, applying just the right amount of pressure to ease the pain. Nursey allows himself to sigh and Dex begins to talk.

He launches into a story about his first time on his uncle's lobster boat, five years old and just barely taller than the traps. His voice is softer than it usually is, quiet and soothing close to Nursey's ear, as he tells Nursey about the gentle rocking of the waves. Listening to his steady heartbeat, it keeps getting harder and harder for Nursey to keep his eyes open.

Nursey lets him get halfway through the story, until Dex switches to his other hand, before he interrupts him.

"Dex?"

Dex pauses in the middle of his sentence and hums, but his hands don’t stop moving.

It gives Nursey the courage to go on. “Why are you always doing this? Helping me when I’m overwhelmed? How do you always know what to do?”

“I guess,” Dex starts quietly, it sounds like he’s hesitating, arranging his words carefully, “I guess I’ve been paying attention.”

The thing is, Nursey’s been paying attention too. He’s been paying attention to Dex frowning when he’s working at a particularly vexing project, to Dex’s hands kneading his stress into pie dough, to Dex looking so proud of the team after games and practices, to Dex’s loud laughter when Nursey or Chowder crack a joke, to Dex’s blush spreading across his whole face when Nursey winks at him.

Nursey thought he was the only one paying attention, though.

“Why?” he presses.

Dex’s hands still.

When Dex stays quiet, Nursey prods gently, “Dex.”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Dex whispers then.

“You think—”

“No, fuck that,” Dex interrupts, voice louder and more powerful, “I know I’m in love with you.”

Dex doesn’t move to leave and Nursey is grateful for it. His heart is beating in his throat, the words of I’m in love with you too on the tip of his tongue, but they’ll have to talk about this. Like, have an actual adult conversation about their feelings and what they want it to mean for the future.

Nursey also knows he’s way too tired to have it the way they really need to, so he just tangles their fingers together and makes sure Dex feels his smile as he presses a kiss to the back of his hand. After he pulls back, he squeezes it, and Dex squeezes right back.

“Tomorrow,” Nursey promises.

“Okay,” Dex agrees easily, running his thumb along Nursey’s.

“Do you have any more dumb stories?”

Dex digs out a story about a prank he pulled on his older brother when he was ten for Nursey as Nursey drifts off to sleep.

[mimicteruyo]

Threshold

[Touhou Ship Week Day 5: Overwhelmed. ReiSana, 1.7k, angst]

---

"Here." Unsure of what else to say, Sanae held out the plastic bag. "I wasn't sure about your size, but..."

Reimu's reaction was more animated than any Sanae had seen from her since the disaster. This time, she actually raised her head for a moment before letting her chin sink back down. She still looked like she wished to curl up into a ball on the porch but couldn't quite muster the energy to move.

Sanae chewed her lip, wondering if she should just leave the bag next to Reimu, only to be freed from the decision when Reimu's hand shot forward and snatched it. One of the thin handles tore with an audible rip, but Reimu seemed deaf to it: the next moment, she was already rummaging through its contents.

"I hope you like them. Later we can—" Sanae's eyes shot wide open as Reimu put the bag aside and began taking her top off. "You're going to change here?!"

"Why not?" Reimu's voice was so flat the question barely counted as one. "There's no-one around to see."

"I guess, but..." Sanae averted her eyes. Reimu was right, of course, and it shouldn't have mattered in the first place, but this really wasn't the time for blushing.

To distract herself, she walked to one of the torches lining the courtyard and looked into the distance. Most of the trees nestling the shrine had survived the transition, had in fact grown more numerous, shielding the buildings on the hill from view. They also prevented Sanae from seeing all that lay around it, but then, she had already stood with Reimu by the torii watching the distinctly modern town and its rhizome of roads sprawling through the land beneath the steps.

"The handle broke."

Reimu had stood up and was frowning at the bag on the porch, now bulging with her old garb. The fit of the new clothes was adequate, although the sleeves were obviously too long. Sanae had chosen red and white — red skirt, white shirt, red and white varsity jacket — in hopes the familiar colours would be a comfort. She now realised they might have been a stab, too.

"It's fine. We can recycle it." Sanae picked up the bag and took the opportunity to survey Reimu from a modern day human's perspective. The hair decorations still marked her for an outsider, but she looked more outwordly than Sanae had ever seen her before. She would likely pass for a former Lolita fashion enthusiast clinging to her old ribbons, and as long as Sanae coupled her new hoodie and pleated skirt with her own hair charms, they would at least share the stares. They would be fine.

Things didn't seem fine as Reimu simply stood there, arms slack, staring at the trees past the courtyard but clearly seeing nothing but fog.

Sanae settled the bag in the crook of her arm and choked on half-formed condolences. She wasn't any more prepared to utter words acknowledging the destruction of the Great Hakurei Barrier than Reimu was to hear them. Instead, to hide her rising panic, she focused on the practical side of things. "The train goes twice an hour until eleven o'clock, so we don't have to worry about running late for it. How about we eat something first? I saw a nice little restaurant on the way— or maybe you'd just like something sweet? We still have some—"

She stilled. Reimu had turned to gaze at her, her eyes as vacant and hollow as they had been  while staring at the foliage.

"Um. Or if you'd like to rest here a bit longer, we can do that too."

Reimu continued on with her impression of a member of the walking dead.

"I could bring you something to eat here, too. Is there anything you'd like?" Sanae's legs already ached from walking — how quickly she had begun to long to be able to fly again — but honest physical pain might have been better than watching this slow winding down that felt like death. "Reimu?"

When this elicited no reaction, Sanae hazarded an approach, then placed her hand on Reimu's arm. This gesture was accepted with the same stoicism as a statue accepts falling rain.

Sanae thought she understood. The evaporation of Gensokyo had been a blow, a physical sensation like someone had punched out her internal organs and replaced them with water. But she could cope. She knew the Outside World, had grown up in it, and she still felt Lady Kanako and Lady Suwako lending her their strength. Reimu had only ever known Gensokyo. Even now, she was probably...

Reimu's head jerked. The movement heralded a sudden release of tension, so complete she began at once to collapse. Sanae caught her just in time and hauled her back upright.

She didn't expect Reimu to clutch onto her and practically drape herself over Sanae until they were hugging each other. Sanae held on, stunned, but not so stunned she didn't catch Reimu mumbling against her shoulder.

"I failed."

"No." Sanae pulled Reimu closer, once again scrambling for words. Reimu felt too small and too brittle, as though her loss had transformed her into a bird. "It wasn't a fair fight to begin with, and you came so much closer than the rest of us."

"And I failed."

The words were uttered with leaden certainty. Sanae saw now that attempting to counter them would only bolster them. She let silence shroud them instead and focused on trying to transmit her body's warmth to Reimu, trying not to think of the fatal wound she was certain she had seen Reimu receive while she herself had lain on the Hakurei Shrine courtyard, too exhausted and stunned to even think of getting up, and which appeared to have simply vanished alongside the barrier.

For a brief blessed moment, things seemed fine. It lasted only until Sanae tilted her head and saw that Reimu's eyes were filled with tears.

And just like that, for the second time that day, something in the universe tilted quietly off-centre.

While Sanae had spent years viewing Reimu as a friend and rival alike, she could now admit to herself that there had always been a dash of hero worship blended into her sentiments. For all of  her foibles, the other shrine maiden had been so attuned to her craft, so determined when the situation called for it, and sometimes almost as supernatural as the youkai roaming the land. She had been someone who obviously never really needed help from Sanae, and so Sanae, living goddess or not, had been just overawed enough to keep the exact nature of the blossom in her heart to herself.

Holding Reimu in that moment, watching her weep, hearing her stubbornly steady heartbeat so close to her chest, Sanae finally truly felt like she was human.

"It's going to be okay." It wasn't a mere platitude; one way or another, Sanae would make it happen. "They won't take this lying down. Yukari and the others, I mean. They're going to fix it somehow. And even if they don't, we'll figure something out. They need shrine maidens in this world, too. And you don't have worry about getting identification papers or anything. Lady Kanako and Lady Suwako will be waiting at the shrine, and I'll just miracle you into a family register if you want, and we can go stay at my old home and—"

She was interrupted by a snippet of strangled laughter. It was mirthless and half choked, but there was no mistaking it even before Reimu straightened up and proved that her tears were now accompanied by a thin smile.

"You never give up, do you?"

"You don't, either." Sanae didn't quite feel like smiling, but she did so anyway and felt it become genuine as Reimu tried to match its wideness. "I can't lose to my rival."

Reimu absorbed this with due consideration. Finally, she extracted herself from the embrace, leaving behind a lingering chill and a faint floral scent from the detergent on her new clothes. "Maybe I should eat."

Energised by this twinge of hope, Sanae clapped her hands together. "Great! Wait here and I'll get you something good!"

She hadn't made it even a single step before Reimu grabbed the sleeve of her hoodie. As she halted, Reimu took the opportunity to wipe her eyes before nodding. "I'll come as well."

"Are you sure?"

"I can't lose to my rival."

Was it normal to feel a rush of warmth at mirrored words? "In that case, we'll go together."

Hand on arm turned into hand in hand as they marched across the courtyard.

Once they reached the torii, Reimu faltered. Sanae turned, prepared to say that it was fine, that their departure could still wait, that even if they missed the final train they'd still manage, when Reimu raised her chin and stepped underneath it.

They halted there on the top step, just past the torii. Reimu stared blankly at the vista ahead, showing neither pleasure nor disappointment at the wealth of buildings and cultivated land. She took a deep breath. "There."

Sanae squeezed her hand. "I knew you could do it."

"Of course I could." How Sanae had missed hearing that particular note of smugness. However, the thought was quickly forgotten as Reimu faced Sanae, no longer despondent but instead intense. "The real challenge comes now."

That was the only warning Sanae received before Reimu leaned forward and kissed her. It was as imprecise as it was abrupt, only brushing the corner of Sanae's mouth. All the same, it lit her blood on fire.

Just as quickly as she had leaned in, Reimu pulled back and began walking down the steps. She would've dragged Sanae along with her if Sanae hadn't shaken off her daze and followed at her own volition, just barely holding onto the bag of Gensokyoan clothes.

The back of Reimu's head yielded no answers. Later, there might be time to ask if the kiss had been a whim, a momentary madness brought on by overwhelming loss. Or perhaps, if it had meant what Sanae hoped it meant.

Until then, Sanae would follow and try not to be too awed by the full bloom of her heart.

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [02]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 3.5k a/n; i know it feels like a lot of bg and internal conflict but y/n!! our girl is struggling! she’s processing and is going through some times BUT things will spice up soon so thank you for all the love +notes, see you again thursday! 

[01] [02] [03]-> masterpost

The two most frequent contacts in your phone (you hope it’s your phone? It’s the same edition and everything) are Jimin and Taehyung. 

Jungkook (or not-Jungkook) high-tailed it out of there as soon as he deemed your reactions unfit for basic human society. He muttered that you were crazy and probably under something, and sped off in his motorcycle just like that. Like you were a stranger. 

It's not easy to ignore the aftermath of your heart after taking yet another rejection, but you're independent and you must stride forward in this strange situation. Taking a cautionary look around the area, you clutch your phone like a lifeline, tethering you together in this unfamiliar place. There's not many people around, but you spot a large library and a playground. Professionals are mulling from building to building, zombies in wrinkled suits and dripping iced coffees. Your phone displays an innocent 7:51, revealing how early it is. Toggling between the two friends in your contacts you take your chances and start with Jimin. The phone rings once, twice, before his dulcet voice chimes in your ear. 

“Babe?” he croons, and your heart drops at the sickly warm tone, “you can’t get enough of me after what we did last night?” 

You’re going to throw up. Scratch that, acid is already bubbling through your throat and you force yourself to tamp it down. There is no, no way in hell could you have hooked up with Park Jimin in your lifetime. 

Unless this is hell. 

“Jimin,” you steel your voice, hoping he can’t hear how absolutely mortified you are. You can picture this version of Park Jimin now, laying around in bed with crossed legs and casually enjoying how much you’re squirming on the other line, “I just need you to tell me where I live so we can move on with our lives.” 

He laughs, giggles bubbling like soft pink champagne. “Wow, I really must’ve fucked your brains out if you can’t even remember where you live.” God, in what life would Park Jimin be “fucking your brains out”? Maybe you should find a trashcan just in case you do puke on the sidewalk. “Y’know, you signed your lease with Taehyung a month ago? You just moved in last week?”

“T-Taehyung?” you stutter, trying to imagine the notion, “I live with Taehyung?” 

A beat passes, and you realize that just like you scared not-Jungkook away, you could be doing the same to Jimin. 

He says your name softly, gone the cocky tone you were initially bombarded with. “Are you okay? You could’ve waited for me to wake up, y’know. We had a lot to drink last night.” he mumbles, almost cutely if it weren’t for the fact the he was insinuating sex two seconds ago, “Did you eat?” 

“‘M fine,” you mumble, trying to chalk up your previous question with inhiberation. “Just loopy, I guess. I almost got hit by a motorbike, so my brain is probably just catching up.” 

“You got hit? Did you call a hospital?” great, now Jimin’s panicked. “Where are you? I’m gonna go get you. Drop your location, I’m leaving now!” 

“I’m fine!” you snip, and you feel bad for nearly screaming on the line. “I’m almost home, I’m just gonna lay in bed and sleep it off. I’ll call you later, okay?” 

You don’t bother hearing his response, and you hang up. You then start to furiously scroll Taehyung’s chat wall, noting that he’s on an academic trip with his students until next week and you have the apartment to yourself. After a good ten minutes of scrolling and reading conversations that you can’t recollect you finally catch the address to your shared apartment. 

The city is the same, fortunately. So are the bus stops, and you’re thankful that your bus pass has some fare money. Turns out you’re starting your journey at the University of Seoul. The bus routes are the same as well, and you manage to take a tour of your side of the city, noting the tiny differences in the town. 

For example, there’s no BigHit Entertainment in its usual spot. Instead it’s an additional practice  space for Cube Entertainment. 

There’s no fanfare to your city tour, and it almost feels like you’re just a normal woman taking a ride home. There’s still the same trees and squirrels, familiar odeng stands and ice cream shops. It feels like you’ve been cut and pasted into this world with no rhyme or reason, a fever dream. 

The bus circles around the usual route once more until you’re in front of your supposed home, only a twenty minute bus ride from where Jungkook almost ran you over. 

It’s a lot, and you realize on the drive over that you’re probably in deeper shit than you could ever imagine. You pull out your keys, and instead of seeing the ramen keychain Jungkook got you when he went to Tokyo Disney, instead it’s replaced by a university ID labeled Assistant Professor under your full name. 

You pin that new fact for later and focus on getting inside.

Your apartment is nice, you muse. Simple black and white furniture, but there’s a definitive home-ness to it. There’s a moss green afghan folded up on the couch, presumably made by the artist himself. You’re glad Taehyung’s appeal for the arts hasn’t been lost, as revealed by the frames on the walls detailing pictures of you and Taehyung’s families, and some of Jimin and Taehyung. 

Deeper into the apartment you find your room. You choke back a sob at the familiar bedsheets your parents bought you at Target, and you even notice some familiar clothing pieces folded haphazardly in the corner. Instead of your bed being filled with shameless BT21 PR however, your RJ and Mang are replaced with simple panda and cat plushies. 

Finally letting your tears fall, you sob loudly into your pillows, hugging and grappling at anything to comfort you. You feel achy and tired, as if your heart has fallen out of your body and nothing can fill the void. As much as your bed sheets feel the same, as genuine as those pictures are in your shared living room, this isn’t your home. 

•━━━━━━»••»💮💮💮«••«━━•

Between your bouts of crying and forcing yourself to stomach cheap ramen, you find out a couple of things. 

You’re an assistant professor at Seoul University. At least this version of you is. A little part of you is pleased by this, you have always wanted to teach at the university level before settling with BigHit. To your chagrin however, you’re not a language professor. 

To your horror, you’re a pre-medical student teaching two “History of Neuroscience” classes. It’s only two classes because according to your Google calendar, you’re also balancing the completion of  your final thesis on muscular dystropathy among low-income neighborhoods. 

Dear god, if your parents ever found out you could’ve been a doctor in another life, they’d be surely choking on their own spit. In this world, you probably weren’t lazy and wholly capable of achieving the impossible. 

You don’t know why you spend the next two hours sending emails to your students about cancelling the next week of classes. Fortunately all your lessons are neatly packaged in your drive, and you send out an email with said lessons citing your mental health and how you’ll resume direct instruction the following week. 

From time to time, your eyes can’t help but travel to the frames and polaroids that decorate your walls. Some of the memories are vaguely similar, a house in the suburbs, an annoying cousin who can’t stop and won’t stop pulling at your pigtails, a movie night with unlimited pizza and breadsticks. 

Some of them are far and beyond your state of recognition. Jimin and you playing hopscotch by the river, Taehyung stuffing his face with fried potato skins in a cheap hole-in-the-wall, you winning the blue ribbon at your high school’s science fair. 

You could very well walk out of this life and just focus on going back home, but something tells you that you need to continue on with this life, at least for now. 

It feels too real to be a dream. When you tug at your hair tie, it’s painful when it snaps across your wrist. Your skin blooms with color upon impact. Could you die in this world? If Jungkook had not skidded in time, would you have survived a motorcycle accident? 

Three days pass like that. You’re contemplating, absorbing information. In-between pints of ice cream and crying your ducts out, you’re drawing conclusions. Could you be in a coma? A very realistic, painful coma? But Jimin and Taehyung are still sending you texts and the day turns to night as painfully slow as it always has. A coma can’t fake a forty person class, all of them vying for your attention through various emails and Zoom calls. It can’t be it. 

And as you rummage through your drawers, check every bit of social media and even your yearbook photos, you also confirm that Jeon Jungkook has no place in this version of your life. It saddens you greatly, and reminds you eerily about the heated conversation you had before all of this. The Jungkook from days ago, the one who looked terrified when you tried to touch him, only met you through happenstance. 

By day four, you get a phone call. There’s no picture next to the contact, only named Biggie Mentor. After a few rings, you finally get the courage to answer the call. 

A deep timbre seeps its way through the line, and you almost whine at how much you missed him. “y/n,” Namjoon says, but he doesn’t sound happy, “tell me why our students said you cancelled all of your classes this week due to mental health?” 

If Namjoon’s your mentor, that means you’re probably in deep shit for cancelling all your classes without his consent. 

“Uh, exactly that,” you say, and it hurts how much you have to strain your voice, trying not to pour any type of affection into this version of Namjoon. You’ve always had a soft spot for his gummy smile. “I’m sorry for not telling you beforehand. Something really traumatic just happened and,” you choke back a sob, trying to cover the microphone, “and I really needed some space.” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” his voice is like melted honey, and you close your eyes and picture yourself back at BigHit, Namjoon’s happy smile whenever he tries to cheer you up. It only makes you even more upset, and your mind is all shadowed and filled with fuzzies as you attempt to picture Namjoon as your boss, “I was just shocked, that’s all. Is everything alright?” 

“No,” you reply truthfully, “and I don’t know if it will be.” 

There’s a terse silence, both your breaths hanging on the line with no move to continue the conversation. If your personality here is similar to your true world, you would understand why Namjoon would have a hard time formulating a reply. You don’t even know how close you are with him here. What remains is that you’re the type to keep your secrets to yourself, and if they truly felt hindering, you’d tell somebody. Not to say you’re the suffer in silence type of person, but you weren’t one to immediately dump your feelings on someone. 

Finally, Namjoon musters a reply, “I have a break at two. Why don’t you swing by our usual lunch spot and we can talk? Their sandwiches always cheer you up. ”

“Joonie,” your voice cracks, and you shake your head despite the fact that he can’t see you. A slip of the nickname comes out before you can help it, and you hope this Namjoon is fond of the manner. “I don’t know where that is. Or what our ‘usual’ spot is. I don’t know what sandwiches you’re talking about either.” 

“Okay,” and you relax at the calmness in his tone, “I’ll swing by after my 5PM then. Set the table for us, yeah?” 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Namjoon smells of dry-erase marker and antiseptic. 

He’s bounding into your apartment like it’s his own home, carrying two paper bags and a stack of leather bound books. The items fly across your coffee table, and you two work together to organize both your dinner and the books. Namjoon looks like a textbook nerd, wearing shades of burgundy and burnt orange as he breaks into your front door. Gone are the boots and sleek outfits that trim his figure, and you can’t help but go a little anti-starstruck at how normal this moment is.

But what remains is the bumbly stance as he makes his way through your tiny space, long limbs and all flailing to help you place his work in a safe space. The curve of his nose and dimples so deep you could fill a lake in them, you can’t help but muster a shy smile as he takes notice that you’re staring at him a little too much for comfort.

The two of you eat in relative silence, and you gratefully accept the bag he pushes in your direction. To your surprise the sandwich inside is a favorite combination of yours, and you wonder if this restaurant exists in your world. 

Your world. 

“Namjoon,” you place your sandwich down, despite the fact that your stomach is protesting for you to finish the first real meal you’ve had in days, “you know that movie, Avengers?” 

Namjoon’s face is puffed with bread, and you hand him a water bottle to chug it down. “Dunno,” he shrugs, “Marvel isn’t a popular franchise, so even if I had I wouldn’t remember.” 

“Marvel isn’t popular—” what kind of fucked up world is this? Your Jungkook would have a field day if he was in your shoes. “Anyway. There’s a concept from Marvel that there’s multiple Earths. Like you can create a rip in space and land yourself in another dimension if you’re not too careful. Do you think it’s possible?” 

Your tall mentor pushes his charcoal hair back, exasperated. “Is this why you’re taking off? Because you believe in some silly comic book series?” 

You feel your heart cracking, desperately trying to keep itself together. In your haste you grip Namjoon’s arm, desperate. “Please, just hear me out.” you warble, “a few days ago I was out drinking with a friend. Next thing I know, I’m in another world where I run into a boy. That boy is my friend, but he says he doesn’t recognize me! But I don’t recognize this life. Namjoon I can’t even imagine you wanting to be a doctor!” 

Namjoon is looking at you funny, and you know he’s really trying to believe you. Instead of the reassuring words you hope for, he instead says, “this isn’t even pseudoscience, y/n. This is supernatural! How could you possibly think you’re from another dimension? I just saw you last week and everything was fine!” 

“I saw you last week too!” you exclaim, clutching your chest, “and you cried again for the umpteenth time because you lost another pair of custom Airpods.” 

A pause. “That does sound like me.” 

Hope blooms in your stomach. “Doesn’t it?”

“Well, in this supposed other life. What is my profession?”

Your face falls. “Uh, you’re in a worldwide K-pop band. You’re making millions and producing beautiful music.” 

That sounded way better in your head. Out loud it sounded absolutely bonkers. You don’t even blame Namjoon when he bursts out laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. You let him, sinking further into your seat and hugging your knees. You really hoped Namjoon would’ve come through for you. 

However you’re not laughing along with him, and he immediately stops at your teary expression. He pushes himself over to you with his long legs, quickly moving to prevent yourself from tucking into your shell. He sees how small your form becomes and he reaches over to place a hand over your hair. “You’re really upset over this, aren’t you?” he questions aloud, and he can’t piece it together, “did you hit your head or something?” 

Defeated, you explain, “I may have gotten hit by a motorcycle the other day.” 

“What?” he squeezes your shoulder, “well, that explains a lot! What if you’re hallucinating? What if you have a concussion? You could be suffering from short-term memory loss!” 

You’re sure it’s none of those things, but you let him ramble. The explanation is clear-cut and so painfully normal that it’s the only conclusion that Namjoon will cling to. Your mentor insists you take a medical leave, and says he’ll take over your classes in the meantime. He gives you a number to call, explains there one of the best doctors for trauma and motor incidents. You don’t say anything to that, but you accept the number and lie when you say you’ll call them in the morning. Namjoon still treats you like a friend however, despite your fruitless confession, and you concede that his comfort is more than enough after such a rough week. 

•━━━━━━»••»💮💮💮«••«━━••

It’s been nearly two weeks since you’ve contacted Jimin. 

Sure, Jimin’s contacted you. A couple flirty texts here, some low-key sexy selfies there. Usually, you’d eat that up like honey and butter. Now, there’s only one-word replies and half-hearted attempts at continuing a conversation. He loosens his tie, thankful he’s working out of the office today. He can look at his phone all he wants, and no one will judge him. 

Jimin finally looks up at the photographer his marketing company contracted, who’s still mulling over the contract. “We’re not trying to jip you, promise.” Jimin assures, and he almost laughs at the comical way the young man’s large eyes catch his concern. “You’ll get all that money, and then some if you need to work overtime. It’s a sweet gig.” 

“Yeah,” the young man nods, and grabs the pen to sign at the bottom. “Looking forward to working with you.” 

“Same to you, Mr. Jeon,” Jimin grins, meeting him halfway across the table, “I’ve seen your work, I’m sure the commercial will be beautiful.” 

“You can call me Jungkook,” the new employee flashes him a quick grin, taking his palm in his. Jimin tries not to twitch at this cute kid, who is both devastatingly handsome and cute at the same time. He’s a little jealous, a little attracted. 

“Great, because Mr. Park is my dad. Jimin’s fine.” 

It’s then that Jimin’s phone lights up, both pairs of eyes darting to the picture of you decorating the wallpaper. 

While it’s not a completely flattering picture (you’re asleep with your wire-rimmed glasses half-off and there’s drool dribbling down your chin.) However it’s definitely you, the person Jungkook nearly killed a couple days ago.

Jungkook’s mouth goes dry, and he lets go of Jimin’s hand like it’s fire. Jimin hardly notices, grabbing his phone in hope that you replied to his text. To his despair, it’s just Taehyung. He ruffles his hair in frustration, letting the slick ebony strands fall out of his hairstyle.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses, shoving his phone in his blazer. 

“Everything alright?” Jungkook asks, trying to be polite. On the other hand, he’s rather curious about the girl from weeks ago, who still hasn’t left his mind. 

In the heat of the moment, Jungkook left the scene with you blubbering on the road. How wide your eyes were with recognition, and almost mother-like as you coddled him like someone to protect. He’s felt bad about it since, but he had an interview with Jimin’s boss and he couldn’t blow a job opportunity. It couldn’t be helped that your sad expression has been his midnight fixation when he can’t sleep or has a creative block. He should’ve at least called a cab to take you to the hospital or something, you were clearly not in the right mind. 

“Yeah, it’s just a friend.” Jimin forces a smile, not wanting to dump his baggage on the new employee. “She almost got hit by a motorcycle the other day,” Jungkook masks a wince, remembering the horror he felt when he saw you, just lying there across the street. “Ever since then, she just hasn’t been herself. I’m just worried. It’s like she’s seen a ghost or something.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook steals a glance at Jimin’s phone again, hoping to see your picture light up again. He does feel a little guilty pushing you off him and running away, but then again it was you that started being weird. 

How did you know him, and why were you so concerned for his well-being? Would he get fired if he asked Jimin about you? That would be the quickest job he ever got contracted for. Instead, Jungkook forces a smile and offers a neutral, “Well, I’m sure things will work out.” 

“Thanks, I hope so too.” 

Jungkook’s palms are sweaty, as if it’s a dark premonition that something will happen. With Jimin around supervising him, he has a feeling that if things don’t work out, things will happen regardless. 

Maybe he’ll understand why you were so concerned for a stranger’s well-being, and why you looked at him like that. 

Like someone in love. 

[fleur-de-violette]

A good butler

A3O

A good butler is often polyvalent, as the job includes many various tasks. A good butler must know how to take care of everyday household tasks, as well as when help is needed to fulfill them. A good butler must know how and where to hire said help and have excellent leadership capability in order to direct the other aids, even in stressful situations. A good butler must have great organizational skills and make sure everything from the house master schedule to the planning of a social event is running smoothly. On top of that, a good butler is sociable and outgoing. A good butler is able to greet guests with a smile and perfect etiquette.

A good butler is also, apparently, supposed to know what to do about crying children.

Or: several times Alfred dried Bruce’s tears over the years.

Whumptober 2020 day 11: crying Note:In case you didn’t guess, this one gets angsty! This is less fluff and angst than fluff and angst and then some fluff and then some more angst. Warning for major character death, and discussion about mourning. Hope you’ll enjoy the story!

-

It’s the beginning of his service, and Alfred wonders if he can be a good butler.

A good butler is often polyvalent, as the job includes many various tasks. A good butler must know how to take care of everyday household tasks, as well as when help is needed to fulfill them. A good butler must know how and where to hire said help and have excellent leadership capability in order to direct the other aids, even in stressful situations. A good butler must have great organizational skills and make sure everything from the house master schedule to the planning of a social event is running smoothly. On top of that, a good butler is sociable and outgoing. A good butler is able to greet guests with a smile and perfect etiquette.

A good butler is also, apparently, supposed to know what to do about crying babies. Because the childminder isn’t there at the moment and mistress Martha Wayne asked him to watch Bruce for just five minutes. Of course, that is when one of the branches outside chooses to move, tapping lightly on the window and frightening the child. The infant, really.

So, Bruce is crying. And Alfred should do something about it. He tries to smile, to reassure him, but nothing seems to work. Finally, he decides to resort to drastic methods.

He puts his hands in front of his face and prepares for what he had planned to do. Finally, he removes his hands, making a funny noise and twisting his expression.

Bruce blinks. Lets out a surprised coo. Alfred does it again, and the kid smiles. He does it one more time.

Bruce is laughing when Martha comes back.

Alfred doesn’t know if he’s a good butler. But he knows he’s not alone.

-

It’s a few years later, on a sunny day, and Alfred is alone inside the manor as everyone else is outside. He’s interrupted in his preparation of the afternoon tea by a noise, followed by a harsh cry from the grounds. Leaving the kitchen, he hurries up to where, sure enough, his youngest master has gotten himself into yet more trouble.

Sure enough, Bruce is on the ground next to the swing that had recently been installed for him. He looks up when he sees Alfred, wailing loudly. The butler crouches down next to him.

“Could you tell me where you’re hurt?” he asks, and Bruce shows him a scratched hand. The boy then stands up to show his left knee where a bruise is already forming.

Alfred sighs in relief; looks like his young master is more shaken than hurt by the incident.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get that cleaned up.”

He extends his hand and Bruce takes it without hesitation. It’s weird, the absolute trust Bruce has in him. Not weird about Bruce, because he’s a child, but weird because Alfred has worked around liars and traitors for so long, he doesn’t really remember what trust feels like. He’s not sure of his place in Wayne Manor just yet.

He puts a Band-aid on Bruce’s hand and checks his knee, confirming it’s nothing worse than a bruise. He then washes the child’s face with a cold cloth, removing the tears.

“Now,” he asks. “Would you like some hot chocolate and cookies to recover from this fright?

Bruce smiles, and Alfred goes to wash his hands.

-

It’s a year and a half later, and Alfred’s hands are full of blood and dirt as he is burying a bird in the garden. Bruce had found the animal two days ago, probably injured by a stray cat. Despite their best effort, the bird hadn’t made it.

“I won’t cry,” says the kid next to him.

“Oh?” he says. “Why is that?”

“Tayler Cobb said boys shouldn’t cry.”

Alfred feels his heart tightening in anger and sorrow. Tayler Cobb is one of Bruce’s classmates, and he wonders absently who put such an idea in the young lad’s mind. He wonders why such belief is still taught to children.

One thing he’s sure of: the child in his charge won’t have it.

He squats down. “You can cry if you want to. Crying helps release emotions. This is not something shameful, or unmanly.”

“Do you cry?” Bruce asks.

“Sometimes,” Alfred answers honestly. “When I’m hurt, or sad, or feel any strong emotion.”

“Can I cry for the bird?” Bruce says, his eyes already filling with tears.

“Oh, my boyn” Alfred puts a hand on his shoulder. “You can cry.”

And Bruce cries.

-

It’s six months later, and Bruce doesn’t cry.

He doesn’t cry, no matter how much Gotham High society and journalists expect him to. No matter how many people gather around him, looking for a sob story.

Alfred pushes them away to the best of his ability. He doesn’t cry either, not until he’s in the quiet of his own quarters. There, he can cry. He can cry for Thomas and Martha, his employers who he wouldn’t call friends but sometimes allowed himself to think of in that way. He can cry for Bruce, the young, so young boy who doesn’t. Who stays silent through the funeral and the months following the tragedy.

The boy who Alfred is scared will never talk again.

-

It’s almost a year later, and Bruce is loud. He’s loud and hurting and he wants to hurt. He wants to punch the walls, to say harsh words, to hurt his teachers and classmates, to hurt Alfred, to hurt himself.

And Alfred doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know what to do about this child who is hurtful and hurting.

So he tries. He tries to talk to him. Tries to calm him down. Tries to absorb his hate and sorrow.

Bruce resists, until eventually, he grows tired.

Until he caves in, buries his head in Alfred’s shoulder, in the only thing he has left in the world beside pain, and cries.

Alfred lets him. He knows it won’t solve things, but at least some of his pain is leaking out of his eyes, lost in the butler’s tuxedo.

Just when Alfred thinks the boy finally fell asleep, Bruce murmurs, “It will never happen again.”

The caped crusader won’t cross Gotham’s night until years later, but this is the day Batman is born.

Born from the tears of an orphaned child and a promise.

It will never happen again.

-

It’s fifteen years later, and it has happened again. Alfred had prepared a meal for when Bruce came back from the circus, ready to hear some of the details of the show and maybe a new project he has to improve his nightly activities.

Instead, he opens his arms for a trembling man. A boy, really, who never ceased to be Alfred’s boy, not since that fateful night. He knows Bruce had been exceptionally good at handling things back at the circus.

He also knows the pressure has to be let go of at some point. And Alfred intends to be there for his housemaster.

For his son.

So, he sits Bruce on the bed after an embrace. Brings him food and water. Lets him stay silent all he wants. Washes his tears with one hand when they eventually fall.

But when he looks up into Bruce’s eyes, he does not see sorrow or despair. He doesn’t even see the anger that will cloud them in the next few months, when they will battle social services.

He sees nothing but utter determination.

“I’m not leaving him alone,” Bruce says. “I can help him.”

-

It’s several months later, and Bruce is lost. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confesses to Alfred in the early hours of the morning. “Sometimes I feel like I can’t help him.”

“My boy,” Alfred says, sitting next to him as Gotham gray down gives them light from the window. “Having a child is hard, especially a child who’s been through so much.”

Bruce opens his mouth to argue but closes it almost immediately. Dick isn’t his child, in the same way Bruce isn’t Alfred’s. But it doesn’t matter right now.

Alfred puts a hand on his back. “I think,” he says. “You know what to do.”

Bruce sighs. He knows what to do. Neither of them likes it.

And Robin is born.

-

It’s more than ten years later, and Robin is dead.

Bruce is silent again. There are no tears for Alfred to dry, every attempt of comfort rejected.

He watches, powerless, as the man he raised throws himself toward death. He watches as he cuts away his other son and friends. He watches as he tries to cut away Alfred. Alfred won’t go away, he’s like a bad weed, there’s no getting rid of him.

But that doesn’t mean he knows what to do.

No child should lose their parent. But no parent should lose their child.

-

It’s several agitated years later, and no child should lose their parent. Let alone twice.

But Alfred isn’t sure how much comfort he has left to give to the new Batman and Robin. He wants to be with Dick and Damian. Wants to help them the same way he helped Bruce, all these years ago. He’s just not sure he can when he, too, feels like he’s dying.

Because no parent should lose their kid.

And every day he wakes up is a day he won’t see Bruce. Every day he wakes up is a day he won’t take his son’s hand in comfort. Every day he wakes up is a day he won’t hear his voice.

-

It’s another five years later and Alfred can hear Bruce talking on the phone in the living room as he enters.

The man seems a little dazed as he puts down the phone and Alfred immediately goes alert.

“What is it?” he asks, getting a chair for Bruce to sit on.

“Nothing bad,” Bruce reassures him, but he still seems a little lost. “Nothing bad at all.”

He takes a deep breath. Smiles. “I was just on the phone with Dick. Koriand’r is pregnant.”

A tear that isn’t born out of sorrow but of the joy of an unexpected new falls from his eye. Alfred wipes it anyway.

“I’m… we’re gonna be…”

He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for Alfred to understand. Tonight, Alfred will open the most precious scotch of the manor, and he will share a drink with Bruce.

To celebrate the fact that the manor is about to become a lot livelier.

-

It’s some long, happy, and less happy years later, and the manor is quiet.

Alfred stopped his duties as a butler years ago, just before Bruce stopped his as Batman. There is a legacy, because of course there is, and Alfred didn’t feel like leaving the manor.

Like leaving his home.

So, it’s in his room, surrounded by his family, that he’s ready to go to sleep for the last time.

Bruce is crying, holding his hand, but he’s not alone. He’s got someone else now, a lot of them, to dry his tears.

Alfred smiles.

Closes his eyes.

He still doesn’t know if he’s been a good butler, but he’s sure of one thing. One more important thing.

He’s been a good father. -

Endnote: The theme is crying for me crying while I wrote this. Hope you enjoyed the story, many thanks to JustJellyJackal for beta reading.

[hopeamarsu]

I Don’t Know

Clyde Logan x reader

Word count 1,1k

A/N: The third part of my angst train has arrived at its station. All maybe be not doomed yet. 

Part 1 can be read here and part 2 here

Clyde finds you on the bench in the park on Wednesday. It's where you’ve agreed to meet, a neutral but familiar place. It’s where you have sat with him for countless dates, watching the world turn and talking about everything between the sun and the moon. It usually brings Clyde some comfort, this place is special, but now you have called him there to receive his judgement. He can only hope that agreeing to this place means something good. 

You haven’t been home since Friday night and all you have communicated is two terse text messages earlier in the morning:

Can we talk?

Yes. Meet me at the park at 1 pm. The bench. 

He should be glad that you’ve given him this opportunity, this chance to see you face to face but when his amber eyes take you in it's clear that the past days haven’t been kind to you either. Your eyes, normally so vibrant and full of laughter, are dull and emotionless. He sees you have borrowed a shirt from your friend, wherever you have been the past days but your pants are the same ones that you left with. You look sad and it makes Clyde even sadder.  

“Thank ya fer meeting me.” He rumbles, but does not dare to sit next to you. Not yet anyway. You glance in his direction and something hardens in your eyes. 

“I guess it was time.” You tell Clyde, your voice void of emotion. It makes him want to curl up and hide, he can already feel this opportunity slipping past his fingers. Clyde takes a deep breath, straightens his spine and steps closer. You do not react to him apart from your eyes that track his movements as he slowly lowers himself on the bench next to you. But unlike before, when you have sat on this very same bench, you do not touch each other in any way. 

“I wanted to… I mean… ‘m... “ His voice is trembling and he cannot find the words. Clyde curses heavily inside his mind, he is certain he will mess this up. He takes a couple of seconds and centers himself, before beginning again. 

“I wanted to tell ya how sorry I am. I didn’t mean tha’ stuff I said t’ ya, none of it.”

You look at him for a moment, taking in the words he has said. He tries so hard not to react, not to give too much away. Clyde’s actually pretty happy with what has come out of his mouth; its not what he practised in his car but its close. He can feel his thoughts gear up inside, all jumbled up in his brains and he wills himself to stay silent. 

“This is not about what you said or didn’t say Clyde. I am a big girl and can understand that under pressure there isn’t always time to consider one's' words or how they came out.” You state, the words carrying over the storm in his mind. He looks down in shame, he knows the words he spoke were clipped and business-like, nothing like he usually speaks to you. 

“But…” He tries to start speaking, but you interrupt him with a flash in your eyes. It’s eerily similar to what happened on Friday night, the small flash of lightning behind your irises. 

“What I can’t understand is how you could forget that I was there. I was there for you. You asked me to help you out, you wanted me to be there and then to leave me in the bar, after closing and locking the place up, is something I cannot wrap my mind around. You left me Clyde. Like I was of nothing importance. We live together, we are partners, aren't we? Wasn’t I enough for a thought?” Your voice raises in anger, letting the hurt bleed out.  

He can’t help the shrinking of his body in a wince, he is too ashamed of himself and his actions. He did those things, he didn’t do enough and he let you down. And he’s beat himself up for it numerous times already but to hear the words fall from your lips, the very ones Clyde loves to kiss, is gutting him.

You look at him, expecting an answer. He gulps down his emotions and nods as he lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Yea, we are partners.”

“If I hadn’t called you, would you have realized that I was left behind? Would you have come for me? Or would you have thought I’d be out with my friends and just gone to bed?” You challenge him, knowing fully well that he would have thought that as it was not uncommon for the two of you to go and do your own thing from time to time. 

“I…. I don’t…” He can’t get the words out, he doesn’t want to disappoint you any further. Clyde knows that he probably wouldn’t have thought twice over you not being there. It was Friday after all and he had a shift at the bar, he cannot expect you to wait for him alone at home all the time. 

“Mmmm, guess that answers me.” You sigh softly, your eyes finally letting some emotion bleed into them. Sadness? Compassion maybe? Or resolution? Clyde cannot tell and he is afraid of the answer. But he must ask before all this eats him up from inside out.

“What happens next?”

“I don’t know. What do you want to happen?”

“I, ah, I want to make this right.” For that Clyde is certain, he wants to do everything in his power to repair this hurt that you are feeling. So he goes on, asking the one thing that he wants, he needs to know.

“Are we still…. Can I still... Can I call ya ma darlin’?”

A beat, then another. 

“I don’t know. You hurt me real bad Clyde. I felt abandoned, lost, left behind.”

He knows this, he’s heard you say it mere moments ago but it's still a knife in his stomach. It's twisting and turning, carving a hole too deep and too painful. He can feel his tears burning behind his eyes.

“‘m sorry Y/N. Truly.” He whispers and his hand twitches. 

“I love you darlin’. Please, please let me make this right. Can I? Is there a way fer me to make it up to ya?” Clyde is not above begging at this point, he knows he messed up badly. But you only shrug and the eye connection is once again lost as you turn your head down. The silence stretches on for minutes, maybe hours. But Clyde is willing to wait, he will give you all the time in the world if you need it. 

Suddenly, you hand reaches out to his and you place your dry, warm palm against his sweaty one. You squeeze it once and it's reassuring in its simplicity. 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Your soft voice, almost a whisper reaches his ears and it takes only a moment for him to absorb the words. It’s like the wind has been knocked out of him. It’s not a “no”. Clyde still has a chance and he will grasp at it, will make it count. And for that he is grateful.

Tagging as requested @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather​ @aloneandsleepless​ @finn-ray-nal-beads​ @iamasithprincess​ @historyandfandoms50​ @a-true-janian-reply​ @clydesducktape​ @morby​ @emeraldsiren19​ @bringbackkylosolo​ @mariesackler​ @sacklerscumrag​ @couldntfuckingtellya​

[mediaevalmusereads]

Master of Crows. By Grace Draven. Self Published (?), 2009.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: fantasy romance

Part of a Series? Yes, Master of Crows #1

Summary: What would you do to win your freedom? This is the question that sets bondwoman, Martise of Asher, on a dangerous path. In exchange for her freedom, she bargains with her masters, the mage-priests of Conclave, to spy on the renegade sorcerer, Silhara of Neith. The priests want Martise to expose the sorcerer's treachery and turn him over to Conclave justice. A risky endeavor, but one she accepts without hesitation--until she falls in love with her intended target. Silhara of Neith, Master of Crows, is a desperate man. The god called Corruption invades his mind, seducing him with promises of limitless power if he will help it gain dominion over the world. Silhara struggles against Corruption's influence and searches for ways to destroy the god. When Conclave sends Martise as an apprentice to help him, he knows she's a spy. Now he fights a war on two fronts -against the god who would possess him and the apprentice who would betray him. Mage and spy search together for a ritual that will annihilate Corruption, but in doing so, they discover secrets about each other that may damn them both. Silhara must decide if his fate, and the fate of nations, is worth the soul of the woman he has come to love, and Martise must choose continued enslavement or freedom at the cost of a man's life. And love.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: sexual content, blood, magical violence

Overview: After being a little lukewarm on Radiance, I decided to give Grace Draven one more try, mostly because her books seem to be popular on tumblr. I picked up Master of Crows on a whim, and though I think it has more plot than Radiance, the main characters were really not to my taste. For me, Martise was too passive and Silhara was too much of a jerk to be likeable, and the massive power imbalance between the two meant that I didn’t really root for their relationship to succeed. Thus, this book only gets 2 stars from me.

Writing: Draven’s prose is fairly straight-forward. It’s easy to get through and it flows well, giving the reader just enough to know what’s going on. I don’t really have any criticisms for its simplicity because Draven is writing within romance, and the point isn’t to be poetic. Rather, it gets the job done, and I think most readers will appreciate that.

Where I do think I can criticize this book is in the repetition of phrases. More than twice, I saw the term “half mast” used to convey when a character’s eyes were half open, and I think I saw “tattoo” used multiple times to describe a rapid rhythm or tapping. It’s not the biggest deal, but I was definitely pulled out of the story when I noticed these things.

I also think I can criticize Draven for telling us some things that should have been shown. We’re told, for instance, that Silhara isn’t a noble man, that he’s selfish and ambitious, etc. but we’re never really shown scenes of him acting out of ambition or being actually tempted to give in to Corruption’s influence. I would have liked to see Silhara be put in positions where he is making choices or doing things that make the reader think he was susceptible to Corruptions influence. Maybe we see him researching spells for making himself more powerful. Maybe something happens on page with Conclave that is so bad, he starts seriously considering Corruption’s offer to give him revenge. It could be argued that we do get some of that, but it felt like everything was told to us, or happened in the past, and we were expected to absorb it.

Plot: Most of the non-romance plot of this book revolves around Silhara trying to figure out how to destroy the god Corruption while Martise acts as a spy, trying to get some dirt on him so the Conclave (a collection of priests/mages) will have an excuse to kill him. To be honest, I thought the initial premise was a good one; I liked the idea of conflicting loyalties and the eventual shift from enemies (of a sort) to lovers.

However, I do not think this plot was handled well, mainly because Corruption seemed to be a background threat. Multiple times throughout the book, we see Silhara be more or less tormented by the god, whether through dreams that keep him up at night, through disrupting Silhara’s magic abilities, through manifestations, and through temporary possession. While scary, I don’t think these scenes had much lasting impact, which didn’t make Corruption feel like a real threat. If Silhara is being kept awake at night, for example, I want to see scenes where his sleep deprivation gets him in trouble. If his magic is out of control, I want to see scenes where he has to decide whether he wants to risk using it or if he should go through his life without his powers. Something other than Corruption just being a lurking boogeyman that occasionally pops up and becomes a nuisance rather than a real, omnipresent force.

I also think Martise’s plot was a bit weak, mainly because we’re never really shown her having conflicting feelings or arguing with herself about whether or not to give Silhara to the Conclave. Martise is a slave, and her master promises to free her if she can get dirt on Silhara. While fine, the desire for freedom never seemed like a driving force for Martise; we never see her digging through Silhara’s study for potential dirt, of trying to eavesdrop or do other things that would show her actively trying to achieve her goal. Instead, Martise is rather passive, waiting for information to come to her, and she never really wrestles with her life as a slave, not the decision of whether or not to report Silhara once she falls in love with him. I would have liked to see more angst or at least more of an evolution where it felt like Martise had an arc independent of her service or usefulness to Silhara.

Characters: Martise, our heroine, is rather passive and seems to exist mainly to be used. I really didn’t like that she seemed to have no ambition or agency; she mostly waited for things to happen to her, and only shows agency towards the end, when the big showdown happens. Even her “gift” - the magic ability which lays dormant in her until Silhara awakens it - seems to be built around her being a tool to be used, and I was extremely disappointed that her arc didn’t seem to be about empowering her as a woman or as an ex-slave.

Silhara, our hero, is the type of love interest I absolutely hate. He’s extremely powerful, but is a complete jerk to the heroine and commits random violence towards other people out of jealousy. While we’re told over and over again that Martise loves him because he’s a good person at heart, I really didn’t see it. He not only beats up someone who speaks poorly of Martise, but he also seems comfortable ordering her around and treating her as a servant until the very end. The only redeeming qualities he had seemed to be that he doesn’t like people treating women poorly (which, ok, I guess) and he’s kind to his servant, Gurn. Other than that, he’s not an alluring figure.

Side characters were fun, if under utilized. Gurn is Silhara’s mute servant who uses a kind of sign language to communicate. I really liked this character because it inserts some disability representation, and I liked his relationship with Martise. The two seemed to bond over their shared status as servants, and I honestly wish there had been more of an arc or exploration about class with these two. Other characters served their purposes. Cumbria, Martise’s owner, is largely absent, but manages to look bad in every way. He’s not a super compelling antagonist just because he’s not on the page too often, but when he is, I think Draven did a good job not making him over-the-top evil. He’s mostly just greedy and petty, and I wish he had been used more deliberately in conjunction with Silhara’s exile as a commentary on corruption within religious orders. Corruption, the god, is a different story. As I explained in the plot section above, Corruption isn’t much more than a boogeyman, and I got really tired of him really fast.

I’m not sure how to feel, however, about the Kurman people in this book. The Kurmans are a nation/ethnic group/tribe/society with some rather odd gender dynamics. Women can apparently own property and vote, and they are supposedly respected, but they are kept separate from men much of the time, wait on men at feasts, can’t meet men’s eyes unless they want to communicate sexual availability, and so on. It was rather bizarre to me, and I seemed to be getting conflicting ideas about whether or not this society was feminist or not. I also wasn’t sure if they were supposed to be modeled on any real-life ethnic groups or societies; they are described as wearing pointy shoes, having swarthy/dark skin, having multiple wives, etc. so I got the impression that they might have been like Arabs, Mongols, or Ethiopians (due to the food they eat, etc), but if so, I didn’t quite like how Silhara refers to them as “barbarian,” even if it was in jest.

Romance: I couldn’t get on board with this romance. At all. Martise was already too subservient as a character, and while I get that some of this could be a survival technique, it didn’t make sense that Silhara would fall for her based on the ways in which she surprised or challenged him. Because she barely did. She never called Silhara out in any meaningful way and seemed to go along with whatever he wanted until the end.

Most of my discomfort, however, comes from two main issues: 1.) Silhara never seems to put Martise’s well-being first, and 2.) there is a huge power imbalance between the two that isn’t corrected until the very end, and Silhara never seems to be interested in leveling the playing field. First, Martise’s well-being: Silhara constantly offered comments that seemed to tear Martise down or, at the very least, be a back-handed compliment. He never seems to want to find ways of making her happy, and he centers his own desire and well-being even after big things happen. For instance, in a scene where Silhara is temporarily possessed by Corruption, he hurts Martise so badly that she cannot speak (as in, he chokes her almost to blackout). When he is freed from possession, he never seems to care about what he did to Martise or how she might be in pain. Instead, the first thing he does is order Martise to get away from him, then he orders Gurn to look after Martise to make sure she’s ok. All the while, he focuses on his own pain and jokes about his balls (which Martise kicked in order to free herself from his grasp). I was flabbergasted - why wouldn’t you want to make sure for yourself your lover is ok after something like that?

Second, the power imbalance. Even though Silhara doesn’t know Martise is a slave for the majority of the book, he does take her into his household as a servant, and has no qualms about ordering her about or taking advantage of her gentle nature. You’d think that if someone fell in love with a servant, much of the romance would be about overcoming class barriers or finding some way to put the two characters on equal footing. Sometimes, this is done by the lower class person having a sharper wit or calling out the upper class person on things that make them change for the better. Martise and Silhara never seem to have that arc. Martise calls Silhara “Master” throughout the whole book, and Silhara didn’t seem uncomfortable with it except when they were having sex. He never stops presuming to give Martise orders and expecting she obey them, not even at the very end when the question of her freedom gets resolved. And there are books out there where this class barrier is done well (Jane Eyre comes to mind), so I think Draven could have put more work into exploring the dynamics and how Martise is a match for Silhara, even given her status and lack of magic (at least, for a while).

TL;DR: Master of Crows has a good premise, but ultimately suffers from unlikeable or passive protagonists, a weak plot, and a romance with uneven power dynamics.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Casting Its Shroud Over All We Have Known

Summary: It's daylight and Edge has no interest in dealing with the secrets of the night. He's got plenty enough on his mind.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Brotherly Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy, More Angst

Warnings:  Implied underage pregnancy. Implied miscarriages. Past Trauma.

~~*~~

Chapter List

What Will Be, Will Be

Something To Say, But Nothing Comes

Can’t Go On, Thinking Nothing’s Wrong

Seldom All They Seem

Voices Are Heard But Nothing Is Seen

Winter Makes You Laugh a Little Slower

That Place Where You Can’t Remember and You Can’t Forget

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was getting harder for Edge to get up in the mornings. Perhaps it was something to do with the differences in the universes that the mattresses were more comfortable. Or perhaps it was that the Swap brothers had a better furnace in their house and better blankets on their beds, keeping the space beneath the covers so toasty warm that it was difficult to leave it behind and head out into the cold Snowdin air in two difference Universes.

Or perhaps it was the fact that Rus was beneath those blankets with him and Edge was finding it more difficult by the day to leave Rus behind.

With great reluctance, Edge forced himself to climb out of the embrace of covers and Rus’s arms, hissing at the chill against his bare bones as he skinned into his trousers. Still in the bed, Rus made a dissatisfied little sound as he rolled into the warm spot Edge left behind without even waking up. And no wonder, he’d been up far too late last night on his talk with Red, he needed his rest.

Edge refused to think too deeply about that particular conversation. Last night’s secrets were best left in the darkness they crept out in. That was a door his brother closed a very long time ago and Edge had no interest in forcing it open. Red was his brother, he would always be his brother, and soon, he would be an uncle. Edge could only hope that he was willing to step into that role when the time came.

By the time he was finished dressing, Rus managed to somehow swathe himself into a ball of blankets and sheets, the top of his skull barely visible above the tangle. Hopefully, he’d sleep for some time yet. The baby was growing in leaps and bounds, Blue had already let out Rus’s normal pants twice and now Rus stuck with a pair of pajama pants and a very oversized sweatshirt that still didn’t manage to hide his rounded belly. Carrying around that unaccustomed weight was visibly exhausting for him, along with the constant drain on his magic that no amount of rest or food seemed to fully replenish. Despite Blue and their Undyne’s assurances that Rus was healthy enough, seeing him so worn was disheartening, especially since there was little Edge could do to help.

Soon, Edge told himself, soon the baby would be here, and Rus would never need to endure this again.

As unlikely as it was that anything would wake Rus, Edge shut the door carefully and made his way downstairs. He stepped out into the bracing cold and started to walk around the house to the basement stairs, his mind on his patrol, his scheduled training with Undyne tomorrow, and not at all on the happenings of the night before. He did not want to think about crouching in the dark, listening as Red slurred out the answers to the rumors Edge heard whispered around New Home whenever he was forced to meet with Asgore, he didn’t, and—

Years of living on the streets in Underfell ingrained in him a sense of constant awareness and Edge turned instinctively towards the figure coming up behind him at the first crunch of a boot through the crust of snow.

“Hey!” He only caught a glimpse of hulking yellow shouting at him before it moved in a blur, hands lashing out as they hurled axes formed from magic at him. Edge knew a killing attack when one was coming and this one was not. He dodged the axes easily and they struck the house without so much as denting the siding, dissolving in a burst of lightning. Edge dove for cover behind a tall pine tree and crouched down in wait, his own burning magic pulled forth and ready to sally an attack of his own as he eyed his opponent warily.

Alphys.

But not any Alphys he’d ever known. Edge hadn’t met this world’s version, he’d only seen her picture in passing, but there was no mistaking her. The facial resemblance to his own was uncanny and that was where the similarities ended.

No thick-lensed glasses for this version of Alphys. She was taller, close to Edge’s height, but much broader, a massive, hulking size. The arms of the jacket she wore against the cold strained, bulging muscles concealed beneath the cloth and one of her eyes was scarred and unseeing, milky white in contrast the blue blaze of the other. The claws on her hands were longer, sharper, and so were her teeth, every inch the ferocious Monster of Human legends.

She drew closer and Edge watched calculatingly, noting that her size certainly did not inhibit her movements; she walked with the grace of a predator and had the intelligence to stay out of arm’s reach. This was a formidable foe and from the way she eyed him up and down, she did not return that sentiment, saying bluntly. “You must be the baby daddy. You look like someone Papyrus would hook up with.”

Well, then. Edge stood up and stepped out from behind the tree to glare at her, since the rule of the day seemed to be rudeness given and rudeness returned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She ignored the question, stamping in closer to loom in front of him. “I got something to say, so listen up, deadbeat. Papyrus can be a shitty brother and he’s a worse sentry. But if you hurt him, I’ll twist you around so hard you’ll be able to see your tailbone by looking up, you get me?”

He supposed she expected him to be irritated, angry, perhaps even to attack her. The thrumming static of magic was heavy in the air, she was braced and ready to absorb anything he sent her way. But Edge was already letting his formed magic drain away, he wasn’t angry in the slightest. On the contrary, it was comforting to know there was at least one person in Underswap who dealt properly in threats.

He lowered his head in a slight bow, allowing a small concession. “That’s good to know,” Edge said honestly. “Thank you for looking out for him.”

That must not have been the reaction Alphys was expecting. She blinked and every emotion she felt was on display as it ran across her face, confusion, irritation, a bare hint of cautious respect. It was so like his Undyne that Edge fought against a smile; her inability to keep her emotions properly under wraps was at least one of the reasons Undyne’s helmet had a face shield. Edge’s ability to school his features to bland unreadability was impeccable and he did, meeting Alphys’s scowling glare with calm sincerity.

“Guess you must not be too bad,” Alphys conceded grudgingly. She gave him a hard poke in the sternum with a finger that protruded from a fist nearly the size of a canned ham, “I’m watching you, deadbeat.”

“I’m sure you—"

Alphys didn’t wait for him to finish. She spun on her heel and tromped away, tail dragging in the snow as she headed in the direction of Underswap’s Waterfall.

The childish temptation to send an attack between her shoulders to knock her face-first into the snow was nigh on overwhelming. Edge resisted it; to begin with, Rus would likely not appreciate him going to war with the captain of the Underswap guard over a simple shovel speech. He also didn’t have the time to deal with the inevitable aftermath right now and regretfully, he turned towards the back of the house and headed to the basement stairs. Perhaps he could ask Blue to bring him along on one of his training sessions, a chance to spar with an unknown Monster was tantalizing, he might even learn a new move or two to use against his Undyne—

He spun around, magic surging to the fore again as words came out of nowhere around him.

“good thing you didn’t kill her, woulda pissed the blueberry off something awful.”

The speech was echoing, directionless, and Edge turned slowly, searching, until he caught sight of crimson eye lights peered slyly around the side of the house, Red’s serrated teeth curved in an irritating smile.

Edge shook away the attack and lifted his chin, stalking past his brother to the door. “You’ve hardly spoken to me for weeks and you think now is the time to interject your opinions?”

Red only shrugged and fell into step behind him through the door, their boots plodding heavily on the stairs. “what’s it matter? ain’t like you listen either way. you headed back home?”

“I am headed back to Underfell, yes.”

“uh huh.” Red shoved his hands into his pockets, watching as Edge turned on the machine. It hummed obediently to life and he keyed in the coordinates for their universe. “so this’s what you’re planning’ on doing, then? keep hopping back and forth, hoping one day you don’t zig instead of zag and get your ass dusted?”

“I don’t have an expansive selection of choices.” The moment the whine of the machine hit its highest pitch, Edge stabbed the button to open the portal. Shimmering, silent blackness formed in the gateway and Edge stepped through it and into his own universe. Perhaps it was the lingering chill of the void but somehow their basement always seemed colder than the Swap brothers’.

Red was still following him, stomping his feet as if trying to knock off any lingering void as he trailed behind Edge up the stairs. His voice rose over their echoing steps. “maybe not, but you got at least two, all nice and simple; stay here in the dust or stay there with rus and the kid.”

Edge stopped at the top of the stairs, his gloved hand resting on the doorknob. On the other side of the door was Underfell, with its promise of death and dust. And other children, other Monsters who were too weak to defend themselves against the LV hunters. People who needed the guard to protect them and the guard needed a Captain. “We can’t abandon the people of Snowdin.”

“you can’t abandon them,” Red grumbled out. Behind him, Edge could hear the rustle of clothing, the creak of the stairs as Red shifted his weight. He sighed heavily. “but i can’t abandon you. whatever you decide, boss, i’m with you.”

Edge closed his sockets and let his head drop, his forehead resting on the cold steel of the door. Not that he ever thought Red would abandon him, he hadn’t, but the last few weeks had been…unsettling. His brother had never been so cold to him before, his anger so unyielding towards Edge even as he kept watch over Rus and their child. His brother.

kid was a pain in the ass, but he was mine

“Thank you, brother,” Edge said, softly, and he meant every single word.

Then he firmly turned the doorknob and stepped out into his world. Only to be immediately grabbed and slammed back into the side of his house, and the only thing that spared Undyne’s good eye from a bone spearing through it was Edge aborting it so quickly that he felt the burn of backlash in his soul. He fought off the pain, hissing out, “What the fuck are you doing!”

“Me?” she snarled back. She was breathing too hard, agitated and angry, her teeth clenched around a sneer. Her clawed hand was icy around Edge’s cervical vertebra, she hadn’t even bothered to put on a jacket or gloves against the cold. “What the fuck did your brother do to Alphys?”

Ah. That explained the anger. Edge didn’t struggle in her grip, relaxing against the side of the house as he asked calmly. “Is she hurt?”

In her good eye, a tinge of red light suffused her pupil, her voice a near subsonic growl. “Guess that depends on your definition of hurt.”

“Then I suppose she should have considered Sans before she offered me her ‘congratulations’ on my child and asked after my significant other.” Acid fairly dripped from the words, as poisonous as Alphys’s offering of tea.

It took a moment for that to pierce Undyne’s temper but when it did, the manic redness in her gaze faded. Her grip loosened, then she let go entirely, her head dropping down between her shoulders as she hunched down, muttering out a string of curses, each more vile than the last.

Edge straightened his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles from her grip even as he discreetly dissolved the thin stiletto of a bone that had been concealed in his palm. One of her nails must have torn through the fabric and he scowled, poking a finger through the hole irritably, “I take it she didn’t mention that.”

“Nah, she didn’t.” Undyne offered him a thin, toothy smile. “But she wasn’t talking much, anyway. Don’t think you need to worry about her pestering your skitten.”

For now, Edge did not say. “You might consider going back to her, it could be she’d appreciate your specific brand of comfort.”

A blotchy, ruddy blush infused her cheeks and she barked out a laugh, “I can get laid on my own, I sure as fuck don’t need any favors from your brother or advice from you, nerd.” A certain gleam rose in her eye, the very opposite of her earlier anger, “’course, it’d be stupid not to take advantage of a mood, wouldn’t it.”

“Do enjoy and do not tell me anything about it,” Edge said, dryly.

She laughed again, raucously loud, but it faded into an unexpectedly sober look. She glanced around, belatedly lowering her voice as she murmured, “Papyrus? For what it’s worth, I didn’t tell her about the kid.”

“I know.” He hadn’t, but it was good to hear her say it.

“See you tomorrow, nerd.” She turned on her heel and walked away before he could say another word and it was a moment of mirrored déjà vu, watching as she tromped off in the direction of the Riverperson; Undyne giving Edge her back was a deliberate show of her trust, as opposed to Swap Alphys’s insult.

“you believe her?”

This time his brother’s voice coming from nowhere was not a surprise. “I do, which means you may need to check over the audio distorters.” He finally turned to look up at his brother, who was lounging on the snowy rooftop, his sneakers braced against the gutters and a slender sharpened bone dangling idly between his fingers. Trust him to always be able to find the high ground. He glared at Red sourly. “Care to explain what you did to Alphys?”

Red only shrugged, tossing the bone to dissolve in the air and sending a miniature avalanche of snow to the ground. “heard about your tea party with her. been a while since i saw alphy, thought it might be time we had a chat, reminisce about old times and all.”

“And where did you hear about it?”

His grin widened mockingly, “always tell you, little brother, around here, the walls ain’t the only thing with ears.”

“Nor are they the only things without them, unless you’ve grown a pair. Can you at least assure me that it was worth antagonizing our allies?”

“doubt it. but she ain’t gonna hurt your kid.”

“Did she tell you that?” Edge asked. Red’s confidence was about as trustworthy as his rare promises, honest only to a point. “And do you believe her?”

Red’s grin was a sharpened knife, his eye lights glittering with blood-red sparks. “i do now. better get goin’ on patrol, little brother, those fancy traps of yours won’t check themselves.”

“You—” Red was gone before Edge could remind him that he needed to get to his own damned sentry station.

He blew out an impatient breath and stalked up the barely cleared path from their basement to the walkways of Snowdin proper. None of the citizens greeted him, instead scurrying out of his path and that was as it should be. His duty to the people here was to protect him from the XP Hunters and the LV-maddened Monsters that haunted the depths of the woods. He was not here for friendship or any companions past those he commanded. He was the Great and Terrible Papyrus and they would do well to remember it.

He did not spare a thought towards Rus, hopefully still sleeping in the cozy warmth of the bed they’d been sharing, their child still cradled safely in his belly.

His patrol went as perfect as was possible, considering the events of the morning. All the traps were clear, the Dogs were at their stations. Red’s post was empty but there were fresh footprints in the snow so he’d at least gone there earlier and then vacated before Edge could gripe at him for sleeping on the job. There were only a couple traps left on the very outskirts and he was headed to them when his phone began to ring, a distinct ringtone meant for emergencies only.

Edge took the moment to check his surroundings, scanning the woods. As anxious as he was to know why Rus was calling, he couldn’t afford to allow himself to get sloppy, especially not when he was alone. Only then did he press the answer call button, lifting the phone to his auditory canal, “Rus? Are you all right?”

The voice on the line was staticky this far away from Snowdin proper, “do you have any pillows?”

Edge nearly asked Rus to repeat it, half convinced that he couldn’t have possibly heard that right. “Pillows?” he echoed doubtfully, fully expecting to be corrected.

“yes!” Rus snapped back testily and that in itself was strange. Even at his most aggravated, Rus kept a firm hold on his temper, offering insults with lazily brutal precision instead of shouts. Anger was effort and he’d always kept his expenditures low. Until now. “pillows! do you have them or not!”

“I…yes?”

“good.” The relief fairly dripped from Rus’s voice. “i need them.”

“You need…pillows?” Edge repeated.

“did i stutter?” Through the static on the line, he heard Rus suddenly heave in a clotted breath, so wretched and teary that Edge’s soul clenched in sympathy. “i need pillows!”

“Shh, calm down,” Edge soothed. All right, so it wasn’t a traditional emergency, but Rus’s distress was real enough. He gave his surrounds another glance and turned back to town, his long strides eating up the distance. “Pillows, I hear you, I understand, you need pillows. Yes, we have some, several.”

“can you bring them with you tonight?” Again, that unhappy, hitched breath. “please. i need them.”

“Of course,” Edge said, trying for reassuring even through his confusion. “They’re yours, any we have.”

Rus let out a shuddery breath, whispering gratefully, “thank you.”

This was passing strange on an already strange day. “Rus? Are you all right?”

“yeah, i’m fine,” Now that he had secured a promise of pillows, he sounded distracted. “i gotta go. stay safe, okay?”

“I wi—” The line went dead before he could finish. Under his breath he muttered again. “Pillows?”

There was really only one way he was going to get an explanation. Edge headed back towards Snowdin, making mental plans. He could send the Dogi to check the last traps; if he phrased it as a show of trust rather than asking a favor, they would do it eagerly, always prepared to demonstrate their loyalty.

The pillows themselves might prove to be another problem. Despite his assurances, he only had a single pillow on his own bed and he wasn’t about to subject Rus to any of Red’s without a chance to sterilize them. They did have a couple of throw pillows, but that meager offering didn’t seem like enough for Rus’s level of upset and Edge could only picture his expression if he brought a mere three pillows as a contribution. No, he’d need to secure extras from somewhere else and there was only one place Edge could reasonably consider.

He could only hope to survive unscathed.

~~*~~

“heya, edgelord,” Sans yawned out. He looked up at Edge from where he was leaning against the doorjamb with as much interest as he could muster. From the vague sleepiness lingering over him like a miasma, it wasn’t much.

“Hello,” Edge said curtly. “I’m sorry, I don’t have time for niceties. Do you have any extra pillows I can borrow?”

Truthfully, he had no idea how much time there was, though the chances of Rus dying for a lack of pillows did seem unlikely. What he did know was that speaking with Sans was always simultaneously better and worse than talking to his brother, each tipping to the furthest end of their scale. There might be very little that could work Sans up enough to put the effort into making someone bleed, but his stare was like Red’s, direct and unflinching, always seeing far too much.

There was nothing in him that Edge wouldn’t allow Red to see, no secrets to keep hidden from him. Sans might resemble his brother, but he wasn’t and Edge was always deeply uncomfortable beneath the endless depths of his gaze.

That gaze was settled on him firmly now, sleepiness vanishing as Sans’s brow bones climbed up his forehead. Wonderful, now he was intrigued. “pillows?” he echoed.

Suddenly, Rus’s earlier frustrations made much more sense. “Yes, pillows! Soft square things that people lay their heads on. Pillows!”

“yeah, yeah, i get you, don’t get your panties twisted, it’ll ruin the leather.” Sans left the door open and wandered back into the house, leaving it for Edge to close behind him. He was wearing one slipper and trying to slide his foot into the other, socks sagging down his ankles. “lookin’ to cosplay as the stay-puff marshmallow man?”

“They aren’t for me, they’re for Rus.”

That got him a shrewd glance, Sans’s teeth parted in a silent ‘ah’. “gotcha. welp, anything for the upcoming mama.”

“I don’t know why you and Red insist on calling him that,” Edge said irritably, “he doesn’t like it.”

Sans frowned slightly, as much as he could around the constraints of his skull. “no? sorry ‘bout that, he never said. i’ll stop, but i’d guess for your bro that’s the main reason he does it.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“how’s things goin’ with rus, anyway, haven’t seen him lately.”

Hardly a surprise. Rus wasn’t supposed to use the machine any more than he should be teleporting, and Sans never seemed particularly fond of it himself. He’d always been perfectly content to allow visitors to come to him and whether that was simple laziness or something else entirely, Edge did not know.

“well?” Sans prompted. “you two doing all right?” His eye lights were pale white, nothing at all like Red’s crimson and yet, somehow, they sent a tremor down Edge’s spine.

Enough of this. Perhaps Rus’s need for pillows wasn’t a fatal issue, but that didn’t mean Edge wanted to hold off getting them to him. “If you’re warming up for a lecture of some sort, I’ve already spoken to a version of Alphys, my Undyne, and my own brother today. I’m full up, so I’d appreciate it if you could save it for a day when my self-esteem is particularly high and might need taken down a peg or two.”

Sans only looked at him in mild surprise. “no lectures. not really seeing a need for it, seems to me you’re doing okay by rus. ‘course, i’m not privy to all the details, but i don’t really need ‘em. none of my business, unless you’re planning on knocking up my bro, too.” The way his eye lights flickered out was nothing close to mild, and the darkness in his sockets only resembled blackness. “don’t recommend that, by the way.”

As if the same trick his brother often pulled was anything close to a threat. “I’ll keep it in mind if I get any sudden urges to impregnate anyone else,” Edge said dryly.

“’preciate it. pillows,” Sans said decisively. Between one step and the next he disappeared and then returned only moments later, announcing. “help yourself.”

The mass of fluffiness was worth a brief stare, if only for the shock that the Tale brothers seemed to have an unexpected collection of pillows stowed away somewhere in their home. Edge took Sans at his word, piling in as many into his inventory as would fit. Sans’s easy expression never changed, even as Edge tried to force in yet another. “Won’t your brother mind?”

“paps?” Sans only gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “nah, not if i tell him they’re for rus. he’s pretty excited to meet the kiddo.”

“So am I,” Edge murmured. “Thank you.”

“sure. do us a favor and give ‘em a wash before you bring ‘em back? it’s gonna get a little messy when the baby finally decides to make an appearance, yeah?”

There was something peculiar in Sans’s voice, something that didn’t match his normal lazy ease. It gave Edge a pause and he hesitated, giving Sans a scrutinizing look. Without his hoodie, Sans looked smaller and that too was reminiscent of Red. Even Edge usually only saw his brother without a hoodie when he was too unconscious to prevent it. Sans met that gaze evenly, his smile never faltering. But then, it really couldn’t, could it.

“I’ll wash them myself,” Edge told him slowly.

Sans snorted and shook his head. “you know what, don’t make it a priority, you’re gonna be busier than one-armed shit-shoveler pretty damn soon. guess you better head out, if rus’s asking for pillows, he’s getting close.”

“What do you--?”

It was fascinating really, to be steadily herded towards the door by someone who never bothered to take his hands out of his pockets. Edge was standing on the porch with a pillow in his arms before he even noticed he was through the front door and Sans was on the other side of the threshold, offering him an easy little wave. “see you around, edgelord.”

“Thank you agai—” The door closed with a firm click. Edge sighed and said to no one at all, “It would be nice if someone let me finish a single sentence today.”

But as strange as Sans’s pronouncement was, Edge took him at his word. Rus needed pillows for something and if that something was the birth of their child, then time might be at a more of constraint than he suspected.

Edge headed back to the Tale brothers’ basement at a jog, pillow in hand and Rus was the only thing on his mind.

~~*~~

tbc

[infantbluee]

title: count to eight

summary: in another timeline, maka is killed on the moon and the world descends into madness. five years later, a reclusive soul stumbles across a girl who claims to be his dead best friend. 

pairing: soul/maka

rating: explicit

warnings: angst, smut, canon-typical violence, sort of love triangle (though not really because it’s just between maka and two souls) 

links: ao3 // ffn

—

oh my gosh, this is my second resbang fic ever and i still can’t believe i got so lucky! this year i was paired with the amazing, brilliant, hilarious, and adorable @ochako999 and @maevenneverland who had a full-time job making me laugh-cry over their shenanigans while also making GORGEOUS art for my fic. (links can be found here and here respectively.) please excuse me while i sob over their talent for the next 84 years because they are perfect.  

even more hugs to my ridiculous discord family for keeping me insane, as well as all the other wonderful people i’ve met on tumblr, twitter, and even just by exchanging reviews on fanfics! there’s a reason i’ve been so glad i joined this fandom and it’s because of every single one of you that make it so warm <3

please enjoy the short excerpt below! 

—

It’s surprisingly cold this year.

Soul blows into his hands, rubbing his palms together to retain warmth. Normally he can escape Kid’s annual Christmas party and hide out in the gardens without any sort of penalty, but apparently Mother Nature decided she was bored this holiday season and wanted to take a turn punishing the antisocial hermit.

That, or she’s calling him a coward.

It’s probably that last one.

“Hiding already?” a familiar voice calls. “This must be a record.”

Holding back a grimace, Soul maintains a blank expression as he turns his head to see his girlfriend approach him along the cobblestone path.

She’s too pretty to be real in this setting, surrounded by glazed tree branches and the twinkling lights strung all over to make up for the blackened moon. Wearing a dress like that with her hair so long and loose, she might as well have “serenade me, you coward” plastered all over her forehead.

“Idiot, you’re going to get frostbite,” he scolds instead, already scowling as he shrugs off his suit jacket to drape over her shoulders. “What are you thinking, coming out here without a coat on?”

Maka smiles sweetly. “I was thinking my weapon always takes care of me.”

Stupid. He thinks the word twice, both times so pathetically filled with affection. “Did Kid send you to hunt me down?” he asks. “I swear I was gonna go back inside. Continue wooing those foreign emissaries or whatever the hell he expects me to do. I just needed a break.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s Christmas; he doesn’t expect you to spend the whole time working.” Her eyes twinkle. “Besides, I already handled it. The dignitaries love me.”

He snorts. “Of course they do.”

“Hey, one of us has to be doing our jobs right,” she teases.

“Suck-up.”

“I prefer the term eager to please.”

Soul is incredulous. “How the hell did you manage to find the one phrase that’s dirtier than suck-up?”

Her smile is angelic. “It’s a talent.”

He responds with a growl as he nuzzles his face against her skin, his hands sliding under the jacket he covered her with to trace the artfully exposed curves underneath.

“Soul, stop!” she giggles. “We can’t do it out here. It’s cold.”

“So keep me warm then,” he grumbles. “And anyway, is that really the first thing you worry about when I’m trying to cop a feel? Not ‘oh, someone might catch us’ or ‘what if your dick shrunk too much in this weather for me to feel it?’”

This time when she laughs, he hides his own smile against her skin. She doesn’t stop him, letting her head fall back with a sigh as he presses kisses along the base of her neck. Even when it’s this cold, she’s so soft. It’s really unfair. He’s seen her moisturizing routine. She hasn’t done anything to deserve this level of silky perfection.

“Soul,” she gasps when he nips particularly hard at her throat. Her hands grip at his shirt, desperate, and he decides that maybe getting a little dirty on a garden bench wouldn’t be the worst thing after all.

But then the lights flicker.

That in itself wouldn’t have been enough to tear his mouth away from her skin, except that it’s accompanied by a deep tremble beneath the earth which causes Soul to stumble into his meister. She catches him, always so impressively steady on her size-five-hidden-by-giant-boots feet, and the speed at which she goes from horny girlfriend to calculating meister is seriously impressive.

And hot. Really hot.

Soul’s never been as adept at switching off his hunger as she is.

“A pre-kishin attack?” she asks with a frown as they rush back towards the party. It’s been a long time since they’ve encountered a pre-k without actively hunting one, and even longer since one has existed within the walls of their city.

“Maybe a demon,” Soul guesses. They’re also rare these days, but they still exist. Though the Witch Treaty has significantly put a damper on their confidence.

As they approach the mansion, they can already hear a commotion brewing. Plenty of shouts, glass shattering. A horrifying, almost unearthly slithering sound as fluid shadows spill out of the windows like overflowing bath water. They pick up their pace.

When they finally burst into the room, they’re horrified by the sight in front of them.

“Kid!” Maka cries.

The chandelier is history, now scattered around the dancefloor in a million tiny little pieces. The decorations are torn; the tables cracked and thrown about. The civilian guests have all been ushered to the sides of the room as several witches hold up a barrier to keep them safe, but the real terror is the enormous entity in the middle of the room that seems to have no problem fending off the advances of half a dozen meisters.

It’s like nothing Soul’s ever seen before, even during the worst of the war. A giant, oozing ball of shadowy flesh with these sharp, jerking limbs that regenerate and extend from its body whenever someone tries to attack it.

Accompanying it is this smell, putrid and awful—but even worse are the low, chittering moans coming from its repulsive form, over and over and over again, filling the room like a sickening hum.

“Maakaa. Maaaaaaaakaaaa.”

Soul feels his blood run cold.

Kid, who is currently trying to hold back several of its limbs from further attacking the civilian barrier, jerks his head up at her call for him, his face flashing with horror. It’s obvious how long the creature must’ve been moaning her name by the intensity of the reaper’s panic.

“Maka, get back!” he screams.

In the same moment, she gasps as Soul tackles her to the side just in time to avoid getting pierced by a flurry of sword-like limbs. He then rolls and grabs her hand, jerking her to her feet as he starts off in a sprint, squeezing to get her attention. “Maka!”

“R-right!”

He shifts into weapon form just in time for her to swing him in defense. She manages to block two of them, slicing off three more, before being forced to jump back as another wave rushes at her. The monster seems to have forgotten about the others completely now that it has her in its sight, its several dozen eyes turning to train directly on her.

“I don’t understand,” she says as she blocks more of its attacks. “Why does it keep coming for me?”

“Doesn’t matter,” growls Soul. “I’ll die before I let it take you. The only priority now is to kill it.”

“But how?”

“To your left!”

She twists to the side, barely dodging the next stream of violent hands as they scrape off Soul’s blade. But instead of relief, he can feel her horror, because those same regenerative limbs that had just tried to rip into her heart somehow jerk to the side with enough force to shatter one of the barriers protecting the guests.

He hears Angela among the screams.

“Maka, no!” he cries out.

Too late. She flips over one of the creature’s arms to run against it, slicing at the others with a ferocity that would impress him in any other circumstance. At the end of her sprint, Maka dives, pushing Angela out of the way from an attack and twisting in a way that cushions the young girl’s fall.

Through their bond, Soul can feel the pain shoot up Maka’s spine and he cries out for her, demanding to know if she’s hurt.

She forces a smile as she sits up. “I’m fine,” she lies terribly. She glances down at the young witch and looks relieved that she’s unharmed.

Before she can say anything else, she’s yanked away so quickly that Soul is literally whipped from her grip and clatters to the floor. He shifts back to human form in an instant, scrambling for her with a cry, but it’s too late.

The monster has Maka dangling by her ankle over its main form, the rest of its extensions retreating as well. Black Star and Kid both try to charge at it only to be swatted away like flies and held back with the pressure of mutated shadow limbs.

Then it does the worst thing possible.

It drops her.

“NO!” Soul screams.

It’s like a detonator is pressed. The moment Maka’s body is absorbed into its inky flesh, the creature begins to twitch a jerk violently, pulsing and moving so rapidly that even the meisters have no choice but to back up.

With a horrifying screech, it’s sucked into the earth through an invisible exit, like some sort of oversized blob of goo being sucked through a vacuum or forced down a drain. The whole fleshy monstrosity continues to be pulled through that tiny unseen gateway until it has completely disappeared from the ballroom. Gone.

And Maka along with it.

[ read more on ao3 or ffn! ]

[onelungmcclung]

Hello <3 Could you share what behind the scenes goodies are making you interested in Welsh/Roe? Also, could you share some more about the W*bgott dislike? Specifically how W*b comes off as anti-Semitic? I genuinely want to be educated and appreciate it in advance!

hey!

re welsh/roe: haha, sure thing.

re My Soapbox: that’s a more serious question, but you asked very courteously and I’ll do my best to answer. I hope it will taken in good faith by everyone who reads it. I haven’t discussed it publicly before, and I’m unlikely to do so again.

[nb. I’m going to request no rebl/gs on this, just because it’s a two-part answer dealing with two entirely unrelated subjects.]

i. welsh/roe: it came to me in a vision (it did not)

It’s Not That Deep: sometimes I like to pick two characters and speculate what their dynamic would be like in canon and how it might play out as a ship. (sometimes my experimental oneshots backfire on me horribly and I lose sleep over what is suddenly The Love Story of the Ages. I still think the basic approach is... fun? no I have not “learned better”.) so, that’s a mindset in play.

I think perhaps it was this that made me realise that they don’t have much onscreen interaction and thus wonder what their dynamic would be like. I guess baberoe being such a popular ship (and I do like it!) means that most of the roe fic is written through the lens of that dynamic (much angst, much fluff), and I just like to try out other angles. rarepairs are a great way to investigate characters’ less-explored facets. roe is often written as angst-ridden; welsh is probably one of the least angsty characters in the show; he’s a tiny fearless powder keg of energy & humour. what would they bring out in each other? this is for research purposes. (they certainly share a tendency to charge headfirst into danger without hesitating.)

roe does shout at welsh (“an officer & a grownup”, etc). I think welsh respects it, tbh. and I think that’s pretty much their only interaction apart from when welsh is injured.

which brings me onto rick warden’s quote about shane covering him while harry’s injured - he’s discussing it more in the context of acting choices, but the character implications are what I care about. roe is trying to protect welsh while he can’t protect himself; welsh feels protected by him. which is something welsh very rarely seems to need.

of course this is just what roe does. but for both of them, it’s a crucial moment. and for me, I’m always interested in small, potentially revealing interactions between characters who don’t have much screentime together.

ii. so you hate w*bgott

oof. ok.

a disclaimer: it’s only recently I analysed why I’m Not Into this ship. when I first discovered its popularity, my initial thought was “why?” but I didn’t dwell on it. (ship hate means it’s time to go outside.) coming back to the fandom made me think about it a little more closely. 

admittedly, I find webster self-absorbed, entitled and privileged in almost every scene he’s in, so that doesn’t help. but I’m capable of taking an interest in his friendships (1st platoon, for example); I just do not think he and liebgott are friends, at any point in the narrative, and I would ship liebgott with literally anyone else in the company before w*bgott would ever occur to me. frankly I think it’s as plausible as martin/webster or guarnere/liebgott, and it never did occur to me. (that is, of course, just me, but this is my Opinion Hour and everyone has to live with it.)

firstly, I dislike the scene in wwf when he pulls a gun on the german shopkeeper. to some viewers, I think this reads as righteous anger. to me, it reads as self-involvement. what he should be doing is helping the prisoners, not threatening random shopkeepers. (lesniewski gets that. web doesn’t.) no doubt the shopkeeper is complicit in local antisemitism and his business has likely benefited, but he’s not important. the wellbeing of the jewish prisoners is the priority. 

(his anger towards the german troops also comes across as self-indulgent and rather... unearned. the rest of the company has gone through a much more brutal war than he has. I’ve tried, for the sake of argument, to read his anger as altruistic, but that is not how it comes across to me.)

liebgott prioritises the prisoners completely. when he realises the nature of the camp, he reins in his feelings - of horror, grief, anger - in order to focus on the man he’s talking to. he knows this man has seen horror, cruelty and death beyond anything he himself has ever seen or imagined. this is the first time in a long time he has been around other jewish people, and it is nightmarish, and all he cares about is helping them. these people could be his friends, his family, his neighbours, himself: they are his people. at first, he refuses a direct order to tell the prisoners they have to remain here. when he relays it to the prisoners, he tries hard to be calm, not to distress them further. when he cries, it’s only for a few moments, because they are still what is most important: not his own grief for them.

I emphasise this as the emotional context of the mountaintop scene in “points”. liebgott feels unable to show his grief in front of the other soldiers, because they don’t share it, but he can show anger. the commandant mission offers the possibility of some catharsis, of a glimpse of revenge. (what he needs, I think, is to be among other jewish people, to grieve with them, to know that his feelings are understood, shared, recognised, accepted; but he wants to avenge his people.)

webster has lashed out at germans twice: the shopkeeper, the troops. he views that anger as justified. and yet in this instance - an order to interrogate and kill a nazi commandant - he balks. he argues the man might be innocent. the commandant is more culpable than anyone else they’ve encountered, but webster treats liebgott’s anger, which is far far more personal than webster’s, as disproportionate and irrational. he has no understanding of liebgott’s grief and rage; he makes no attempt to understand. he’s uncomfortable with it; he dismisses it. it’s deeply privileged and condescending.

part of me thinks this is just bad writing: it’s a contrived moral debate; webster wasn’t on the mission irl and his presence seems unnecessary; if he’s so opposed to the mission, he should have voiced that to speirs, not liebgott. but bad writing or not, this is the show and characterisation we’re all working from as fans. 

(I think this ship is somewhat responsible for fans mischaracterising lieb as “angry”, for... reacting to antisemitism?. but because I don’t read anything for this ship, I have limited engagement with that.)

just for the record, while I’m pouring out my heart, I don’t see any evidence of a friendship, even a volatile one, in tlp. web didn’t know the men in 2nd platoon particularly well before, and still less post-bastogne. I think he plays politics with jones to try to get off the patrol, and then plays politics with 2nd platoon in order to be more accepted by the group. (the fact neither plan works is... quite entertaining, really.)

I know people point to their conversation about plans for the future as evidence of a friendship, but to me that interaction seems fairly one-sided. liebgott is looking forward to getting home; he wants to talk about it. web isn’t particularly interested in the conversation. that and their scenes together in “points” seem scripted to emphasise how little they have in common. and, of course, that their backgrounds have little in common isn’t necessarily a barrier to friendship, but webster dismissing liebgott’s anger over the camps is. there’s no way to write them being friends that doesn’t involve a heartfelt apology and a lot of slow relationship development.

I don’t lose sleep over what other people write/ship; that’s their prerogative. I don’t have to read it (in this case, I haven’t and won’t). I’m not telling anyone they can’t write this - or any other - ship. I’m simply uncomfortable with its popularity. 

liebgott has some great onscreen friendships (mostly implied, as is the way of the show): tab, popeye, grant, ramirez, babe, mcclung, alley; maybe dukeman, jackson, tipper, luz, martin, malarkey, roe... I could even make an argument for liebgott & lesniewski. personally, I would much rather see more attention given to any/all of those.

[sunflower-swan]

Wolfstar Chapter 10

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius. It also takes place more or less in present time, minus Covid-19.

This is chapter 10 of a multi-chapter work. If you’d like to start from the beginning, here is chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I just like to play with them.

Day 10 Prompt: Bunnies

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 1542

Tags: language, angst, fluff, original character

Chapter 10

Sirius

Panic! At The Disco, “Mad as Rabbits”

Come save me from walking off a windowsill

Or I'll sleep in the rain.

Don't you remember when I was a bird

And you were a map?

Sirius hurt. It felt like there was a hole in his chest where his heart had been. He went with Remus to the Tattoo Lounge because it was better than drinking himself into a pickle at home alone. In truth, he was quite thankful for Remus. The day ended much better than it began, which wasn’t saying much considering how the day started. But Sirius would take any improvement at the moment.

He found he enjoyed watching Remus run his shop. Lily had taken a few messages for him in his absence, so he rang those people first. After that he had a steady stream of customers the rest of the day. Some by appointment and some by walk-in. A few were consultations, and Sirius was impressed by his friend’s compassion and professionalism. In the lull between customers Remus and Sirius would chat, or sometimes they would sit in comfortable silence and Sirius would watch Remus sketch.

One woman had an appointment for her very first tattoo. Sirius remembered being nervous when he got his first ink, but this woman seemed over the moon excited. She brought a friend with her. The friend waited on the leather couch that sat back in the tattooing area of the shop while Remus discussed tattoo plans with the woman. In the end they developed a plan for a half sleeve involving a Mammoth Sunflower, a few common daisy blossoms, and a Monarch butterfly. The sketch Remus created was beyond beautiful. Even though this would be the first of at least three sittings, Sirius was sure the end result would look so realistic, one would expect the butterfly to flap its wings and fly away.

Remus took a break mid-day and explained, “People are looking for more than a tattoo. They’re looking for an experience. The customers I like to work with are looking for a one-of-a-kind piece of art to display on their body. Every piece I do is an extension of myself. And these people walk around the world with it for the rest of their life.”

Wow. Sirius placed his right hand over the rose tattoo. There was not another exactly like it in the whole world. For the first time in many days, he felt a tiny light flicker inside him. A tiny light of hope that told him he would make it through the pain and heartache in which he had been absorbed.

Later on around mid-afternoon, Sirius and Remus were chatting about nothing in particular while Remus cleaned up his equipment from a walk-in. The walk-in had requested a geometric mandala design between his shoulder blades. It wasn’t Sirius’ style, but the man had seemed pleased with it. Then the bell over the door dinged, and in sauntered Logan. Sirius was beside himself, giddy with excitement to watch him interact with Remus. He tried the best he could to blend in with the wall, and watch the show.

When the door opened, Remus looked up from his cleaning. His expression turned to one of surprise to see Logan moving stealthily toward him. Logan didn’t even notice Sirius sitting in the corner. From the moment he walked in, he only had eyes for Remus.

“Hey, Remus,” Logan said.

Remus blushed. “Uh, hey, Logan.” He nervously wiped his hands on his trousers.

“You never called me.” Logan was within arm's distance of Remus now, and he stopped.

“Erm…” Remus scratched the back of his head. “No...I guess I didn’t. No that, um...not that I didn’t want to, but…”

He’s so awkward! Sirius thought to himself. He’d never seen Remus so flustered. It was kind of adorable.

“It’s ok,” Logan said with a chuckle. “I am still interested in a tattoo though.” The corner of his mouth lifted.

“Right! Yeah, of course,” Remus said. “Just uh…” He cleared a space for them to sit, and grabbed his sketchbook and a pencil. “Here, have a seat.”

They took a seat on the leather couch. Sirius was covertly pretending to flip through a magazine in the far corner, and was therefore too far away to make out much of their conversation. But he could see, and that was enough. Logan was so obviously flirty.

He started off on the opposite side of the couch from Remus. But after about fifteen minutes or so, he had slowly worked his way closer to Remus. Then there was the way he kept brushing his hair back. And any excuse to touch Remus: his shoulder, his elbow, his knee...Godric, this guy was a bit much.

Logan was throwing everything he had at Remus, but Remus seemed oblivious. Remus maintained an air of professionalism throughout the entire consultation. Sirius was surprised Logan hadn’t jumped into Remus’ lap by the end. It was about the only thing he hadn’t done to get Remus’ attention. There is such a thing as coming on too strong, but this Logan fella never got that hint.

Finally Logan cleared out, and Remus approached Sirius. “Do you trust me?” he asked. He was holding a sketchbook to his chest, eyebrows raised.

“Yes.” Sirius didn’t need to think twice.

“Come over here.” Remus motioned with his hand and walked toward the chairs. “Pull up your right pant leg, and lay down on your stomach.”

“Excuse me?” Sirius laughed and put his hands on his hips. “What is happening now?”

Remus tapped his foot and repeated himself, “Pull up your right pant leg, and lay down on your stomach.” He gestured toward the padded bench. “You said you trusted me, right?” He tilted his head down with a smirk.

Why do I feel like I might regret this? Sirius asked himself as he did as Remus directed. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what you’ve decided needs to be permanently marked on my body.”

“Nope.”

Brilliant.

A couple silent hours later, Remus announced he was done. “Before you look at it, I want to tell you something.” He came around and crouched down in front of Sirius and looked him dead in the eyes. The intensity Sirius saw there was intimidating, but he did not break eye contact. “What you have gone through, and what you have yet to go through, is really hard. This is just a stumble in your road, it’s not the end of your journey. Haruki Murakami once said, ‘Such wounds to the heart will probably never heal. But we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever.’ I hope this piece can be the beginning of your healing.”

Sirius's mouth had gone dry. The tiny light grew a little brighter. He twisted to look at his calf. Is that a fucking bunny? “Is that a fucking bunny?!” Oops, I said that out loud. “A bunny and a...crescent moon? Why?”

“Calm down, shut up, and listen.”

I’ll shut up and listen, but that doesn’t mean I’ll calm down. Sirius fixed Remus with a stare and tried to convey a hurry-up-before-I-lose-it expression.

“What do you know about rabbit spirit animals?”

“Remus, my animagus is a dog...why would I care about a rabbit spirit animal?”

“A rabbit spirit animal symbolizes a person who has no problem expressing happiness and affection when it comes to people they love. You have so much love in your heart Sirius, that is why it hurts so much right now. Your animagus form may be a dog, but I think that dog’s spirit animal is a rabbit.”

Sirius mulled Remus’ words over in his head. No problem expressing happiness and affection to people I love. It hurts so much, because I love so much? No...because I have so much love to give. I give my love freely. Too freely? No...the people I love deserve my love. But why does it have to hurt so much? Kind of ironic that a dog’s spirit animal would be a rabbit since the two are natural enemies.

“Ok, then what about the crescent moon?” he asked. That bit didn’t really make sense.

“Well,” Remus said, “the rabbit is an animal of the moon. And I thought it looked cool.”

It was a cool design now that he looked more closely. A tribal hare, rearing on it’s back legs. It sort of looked like it was playing with the crescent moon. Why did Remus not quite meet his eyes with that explanation though?

“You can stay here tonight, if you want.” Remus offered, disrupting his thoughts. “I just mean...on your own didn’t pan out so well...you’re always welcome here anytime…” His sentence sort of wandered off after that.

“Um…” Sirius knew he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts tonight. He had tried being alone the past few days, and look where it landed him. He also didn’t want to be a burden on his best friend. He also remembered with vivid clarity that Remus walks around in his boxers in the morning.

“Let’s at least get a bite from Potter’s,” Remus said, “I’m starving. Then you can decide what you want to do.” Remus swished his wand and his equipment flew back to their respective shelves. He cast a disinfecting Scourgify and turned to Sirius with a smile.

Next Chapter: Chapter 11

[emma-nation]

Within You - Bloodbound AU - Chapter 14

Summary: One year after defeating Gaius, the gang has finally found peace… Until a tragic incident awakens the ultimate and most dangerous threat they ever faced.

Genre: Angst/Adventure/Romance

Rating: T - Warning for violence and language

Amy

"Congratulations, Bloodkeeper. I had to come and see your accomplishments with my own eyes. In only six weeks you managed to do what I never could, to unite vampires and humans."

Amy stood paralyzed as Rheya entered the box, acting like if she owned the place. She gritted her teeth in anger. How could she be so innocent to believe she was truly gone? Especially upon the perfect scenario she had created for her comeback. One where Rheya could murder thousands of humans and vampires in order to obtain more power. Peace was never her goal. The First Vampire always had a greater purpose in mind, to become a Goddess with powers that could overcome anything, even death.

"Rheya..." she finally spoke. "Get out of here. Now!"

She ignored her, sweeping around the room and observing each one of her friends. She paused at Lysimachus, cocking her head confused.

"Curious..." Rheya furrowed her brows. "How could you survive Demetrius' blood? You were supposed to be dead."

"I guess I had to stay around and watch your downfall," Kamilah's brother answered, "bitch."

The First Vampire replied with a sarcastic smirk before keep moving, watching carefully all her surroundings.

"What are you doing here, Rheya?" Kamilah asked, frowning her face.

"Leave those people out of whatever you're planning," Adrian added. "If you've got anything to deal with us, we can solve it somewhere else."

This time they didn't have a plan, or even a weapon to use against Rheya, but Amy didn't feel intimidated. She felt angry, thirsty for revenge. She could feel that power burning at the depths of her soul, ready to unleash all its strength and defeat that woman once for all.

She walked to the glass, pointed to the crowd and spoke:

"This is how you create peace, Rheya. Not by putting a species above the other, making them believe they're superior. Or by starting an endless cycle of bloodshed and violence. Tonight we both win, humans and vampires."

"You're wrong, Amy," Rheya approached and stood by her side, touching the glass windows. Her eyes were shining red as fresh blood. "Humans started this war, when they killed Demetrius and took my daughter from me."

"You still can change it, you know? You can end this cycle. We can live in peace," Amy tried to reason with her, counting that inside the dark shell, a little bit of humanity remained intact. "Rheya, I'm your granddaughter. I'm a part of Iola and... a part of you."

Rheya grinned and looked at her. Amy gazed deeply into her eyes, diving into them. For the first time she could feel it. The link they shared. The part of Rheya that was running in her veins. The part that screamed for power.

In that moment everything stopped. There was no music or chanting coming from the crowd. All her ears could detected were all those heartbeats... thousands of them. The blood being pumped from their hearts and flowing inside their veins. Their lives... so weak and so fragile. And they all belonged to her.

"Don't fight it," the First Vampire said, "embrace the blood, Amy. Join me and together we can build an era of true peace and reign as the goddesses we are."

"N-No!" Amy resisted those thoughts. "I'm not like you. I won't..."

"Too bad, darling. I don't need you anyways."

Rheya lifted up her arms, ready to take and absorb all those lives. The visions quickly returned to Amy's memory. She needed to act before it was too late. Without thinking twice, she pulled the entire group into a memory void. The only place where Rheya's powers were limited and she was restrained.

"What do you think you're doing?" Rheya angered, noticing the invisible chains holding her down. "So clever, but it's a matter of time until we have to go back to the real world."

"But right now we're in my world, bitch. You'll stay and watch."

"What are you talking about?"

"I was searching for you through my Bloodkeeper abilities the other day and I discovered the truth..." Amy walked behind Rheya, and though she was much taller, she seemed completely vulnerable and small in that moment. "What happened to Iola, Rheya?"

"The Sons Of Ares kidnapped her, making me believe she was dead," some hateful tears filled the First Vampire's eyes. "Depriving me from seeing my own daughter to grow up!"

"You never saw her again?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because I found this inside your memories, something you can't quite remember..."

All of them were taken to a port city in Ancient Greece, where an adult version of Iola walked on the streets in company of her husband and daughter.

"When she turned out to be completely ordinary, the Sons Of Ares simply raised her as one of their own. She lived. She aged. She had a family on her own, until..."

Sounds of slaughter started to be heard, screams of panic and cries for mercy were heard across the streets. The group spotted a familiar figure holding a blade, not sparing a single life that stood his way.

"Die!" Gaius snarled. "Die for the Goddess!"

The flashback appeared so real and close some of her friends drew their weapons, thinking they were being seen and would have to face that man one more time in their lives.

Meanwhile, Iola turned to her husband, pushing their daughter into his arms...

"We need to get onto a ship! Now!"

The three of them rushed for a merchant vessel. Ajax, Iola's husband, was first, hoisting up their daughter, Minerva. A hand grabbed Iola from behind, preventing her from joining her family in safety.

"And where do you think you're going?" The figure was Rheya herself.

"No," Iola tried to plead for her life, "wait, I-"

Before she could even finish, her head was slammed into a wall, crushing it. Blood spilled in the group's direction. Someone let out a horrified scream. In front of them, Iola was lying dead on the ground.

"Pathetic human," Rheya said, before resuming the slaughtering.

Back to the real world, the First Vampire was on her knees completely destroyed.

"No!" She screamed, while she began to sob. "I killed her. My little girl. My baby. I killed her."

"You did," Amy told. "And all these centuries you blamed it on humans, generating so much hate, so much violence."

"Everything I did... everyone I hurt... all of it was a lie. It was me. All along. The monster. The killer. The abomination."

The others stared at the scene in silence, completely shocked.

"Amy," Kamilah threw her one of her daggers, "end this. Kill her now."

Amy grabbed Rheya's hair and pressed the blade against her throat. She could feel through their connection, in that moment she was hurt, broken and scared. There was nothing left inside of the First Vampire, except for a desire of ending her own life.

"Rheya, I'm sorry. You can't change the past and erase all you've done, but... I promise to honor your legacy. There will be peace among humans and vampires, but no lives will be lost in this process, not anymore."

"I still..." Rheya panted hard, barely breathing between her sobs. "I still can bring her back! I still can fix this!"

In a flash, she used her psychic powers to throw Amy across the room with the dagger buried in her stomach. The others immediately reacted. Kamilah lunged forward, only to be hit by a fire blast that sent her flying across the room. Adrian grabbed Rheya from behind attempting to hold her, she entered his mind, causing an intense pain that made him collapse.

"No," Lysimachus threw one of his daggers, preventing her from absorbing Adrian's life. The blade hit the First Vampire's shoulder. She scowled and jerked her hand, trying to force him on his knees. However, it didn't work.

"Demetrius... he's protecting you. How dare he?!"

"Even Demetrius grew tired of your bitchcraft," Katherine stepped forward, whirling her sai.

"Your useless little mortal..." before Rheya could made any moves against her, a ring on Katherine's finger blasted an intense light that involved her as a shield. The Nighthunter successfully stabbed her in the chest.

It didn't affect her much. Rheya pulled out the sai, wincing in pain. She approached the glass again, lifting up her arms and ready to collect all those lives in trade of power.

"I need to stop her," Amy crawled, trying to reach her. She was still weak from the blood loss, yet she managed to stand on her feet. "Rheya... stop..."

"You're not worthy of my genes. Once again, I failed on my creation!" Rheya kicked her legs, making her fall on the ground again. Using the sai removed from her chest, she pointed it to Amy's throat. "Good riddance, granddaughter."

Like a blur moving through the room, somebody managed to tackle Rheya, getting her away from Amy. She lifted up her eyes in time to see...

"You!" The First Vampire grabbed Lily by the neck.

"No!" Amy yelled and tried to hit Rheya with a psychic blast, but she had no strength. She watched as the First Vampire buried the sai directly into Lily's heart. The girl glanced Amy one last time with a small smile on her face, before her body converted into ash.

"Weak as an insect. Her life barely served for my purpose."

Rheya laughed and turned around, ready to return to her mission.

Amy kneeled down, her hands covered by Lily's ashes. Her eyes filled with tears and she started to tremble. In that moment there was no pain or weakness. Something else had ignited inside her. Something ancient, powerful... and terrible. She felt like she was consumed by an intense fire. The wound in her chest healed immediately as the new source of power took over her body. A power deeply moved by anger and loss.

"Rheya," she ordered. "Stop."

----------

Kamilah

"A-Amy..." Kamilah clutched the spot where Rheya hit her with a fire blast. Her chest hurt intensely. She opened her mouth to speak, noticing her wife was completely out of herself. Her eyes were glowing like two fireballs, exactly like Adrian when he took an excessive dose of his serum. "AMY!"

She couldn't hear Kamilah's voice or even notice her presence. Her mind had succumbed to those powers completely.

"She was my best friend," Amy walked in Rheya's direction. "How could you?!"

"Do you understand now, Bloodkeeper?" Rheya said. "How does it feel to lose someone you loved so dearly? Don't you desire enough power to bring her back? Wouldn't you trade all those mortals' lives for your friend's?"

"HOW COULD YOU?!" Amy screamed loud and powerful enough to make the entire box shake. The impact sent Rheya flying against the wall. The girl grabbed her by the neck, exactly like she did to Lily. "I could make it fast and painless as possible but for all you've done, all the pain you caused... you deserve to suffer."

Kamilah couldn't tell exactly what was going on, but she seemed to have entered Rheya's mind causing an excruciating pain inside her skull. The First Vampire attempted to fight for her life, but Amy's influence had weakened her.

"Farewell, Rheya," using her psychic powers, Amy moved Kamilah's dagger back to her hands before slicing her head off her shoulders. In a few seconds, the legendary vampire became nothing but ash. Like Lily, or any other vampires she murdered before. Everyone in the room exchanged glances, trying to process what had just happened.

"It's over," Adrian was the first one to speak. "She's dead. The First Vampire is dead."

"And so is Lily," Jax lamented.

However, Kamilah still could feel her essence, her power lingering in the air seeking for the next host. A body that could accept and embrace all its darkness. Suddenly she saw as it began to surround Amy's body and slowly get absorbed.

"No," Kamilah muttered, forcing herself to her feet. "Amy, y-you did it, my love. You defeated her. Rheya is gone."

There was no answer. Amy approached the glass windows, staring down at the crowd again. This time, her look was hard and completely cold.

"I can do this," she said, staring down at her hands. "I have the power to control, to manipulate, to shape... and the power to create."

The girl waved her hand, making a flower blossom in the middle of the room sparkling with beauty. She fixed her eyes on it, fascinated.

"I can make life! I can bring Lily back. I just... I need more power..."

"Amy, sweetheart," Katherine interrupted. "You're starting to sound exactly like her."

"You don't understand," Amy told her. "I can bring back what you've lost. Katherine, I can bring Ava back to you."

"Amy," Lysimachus shouted, attempting to get her attention. "You don't want to do this. This is unnatural!"

"You... you don't understand. None of you!"

The way Amy spoke those last few words showed how angry she felt about them all. She turned back to the crowd extending her hands, ready to mimic Rheya and draw in all the lives of the thousands of humans below.

"Amy, no!" Kamilah yelled. "Stop. This isn't you!"

"This has always been me, Kamilah," Amy gripped tightly on the dagger she still held. "You just couldn't see it before, because you were blinded by what you call 'love'."

"No, love never blinded me. Actually it made me see clear. Amy, when I met you I could finally find myself again. I could get back what I had long lost. I realized I'm worthy of redemption, love and happiness. We are."

"You once told me love was only a chemical reaction."

"I was wrong and you showed me. Because you have the most beautiful heart I've ever known."

Kamilah closed her eyes and reached out, touching her shoulder. Without any fear Amy would injury her. She knew the real Amy, her Amy was still in there. She wouldn't be capable of hurting her. Ever.

"Come back to me, Amy," she smiled. "I love you. Now we can finally have that future we always dreamed of."

She hesitated for a moment, before a single tear ran across her cheek. Kamilah slowly involved her wife in a tight embrace and she started crying against her shoulder. That dark energy rushed out her body, vanishing in the air.

"This is okay..." upon her wife's desperate sobs, Kamilah couldn't hold her own tears. "Everything will be okay..."

"She killed her. She killed Lily, Kamilah! And I didn't have time to say goodbye or to say how much I loved her. She saved me, even when I treated her so badly."

"Lily knew it. This is why she did it."

The others gathered around them, huddling together exhausted and destroyed from the fight.

"What do we do now?" Amy asked.

"We go home," Kamilah answered, kissing her forehead.

----------

Lysimachus

A few days passed since Lily's death and Rheya's defeat. For the crowd present at the concert, a minor accident happened at one of the VIP boxes. They didn't know about the battle or even about the deaths. Humans and vampires were still in peace. However, for some of them the world seemed to have stopped.

Lysimachus stared at the mirror while finishing to get dressed. He hadn't sleep in days. The adrenaline, the memories of that night made his body unable to get any rest. His dreams were often disturbed by Rheya's presence in the air, just seeking for another opportunity to rise again. Something told him that wouldn't be the last they'd see of the First Vampire.

"I hate funerals," Katherine spoke as she entered the room, wearing a black dress.

"So do I," he said. "Listen, I know this brings you some painful memories. You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"It's okay. I want to be there for Amy, as she has been helping me a lot. Besides, I've been in her shoes. I know how she's feeling."

She squeezed his hand, trying to bring some comfort. Lysimachus turned around and kissed her cheek. Together, they went to Kamilah's penthouse. His sister was alone in the living room, contemplating the streets through the window.

"Hey, sister," Lysimachus squeezed her shoulder. "How are things going?"

"Still the same," Kamilah told. "She's locked inside the bedroom, refuses to leave or even speak to me. I can't get through her. And there's those powers... I fear her emotions will bring them back to surface at any moment. I feel I'm losing her, brother."

Since Lily's death, Amy had been severely depressed. She wouldn't speak to anyone about her grief, refusing to eat or even leave the bedroom. As they opened the door, they found Amy sitting on the bed holding the urn that contained Lily's ashes. She barely noticed their presence until they approached.

"Hello, sweetheart," Katherine sat down by her side, wrapping an arm around the girl's shoulders. "How are you?"

"It hurts so much," the tears Amy had been fighting so hard against started to run across her cheeks. "I feel like a part of my soul has been ripped off."

"I know. It will take a while to feel better, probably will never fully heal. But Amy, you don't wanna get into this hole. You have an amazing wife and friends who love you. Most of all, you're strong."

"Yeah," Lysimachus joined them at the bed, "besides, that was what Lily wanted the most. She wanted you to live and be happy."

"Was it? I mean, I'll never know. I-I... I didn't even had a chance to have a final conversation with her. I pushed her away for all these last few weeks."

He sighed. Rheya wasn't the only presence he could feel. Lily was still around, for some reason. From his brief knowledge about his new found powers, she still had something pending that prevented her from moving on.

"What if... what if there's a way for you to say goodbye? If we unite both of our powers, it's possible you can see her one last time."

"Really?" Amy's tearful eyes finally met his, a hint of hope shining on her green irises. "Can we do that?"

"We can try."

Katherine gave him a small and supportive smile, indicating she was leaving the room to grant them some privacy. Lysimachus took a deep breath and held both of Amy's hands firmly.

"Okay..." he told. "First thing, we need to connect our minds."

"Got it," for such a skilled psychic as Amy, that was the easiest thing to do.

Once he felt they were in sync, Lysimachus channeled the powers that came from Demetrius blood. The air suddenly got colder and a heavy wind wrapped around them, taking them both to another level of the mindscape, one that had grounds in the Realm Of Death. When they opened their eyes, both of them were standing in some kind of forest with a dense fog that prevented them to see much further.

"Do you think she's here?" Amy asked, examining her surrounding for any clues.

"I don't know," Lysimachus answered. That place was absolutely creepy and he had no idea of who they could run into by accident. "Do not move. Let's just... focus on her."

"Okay. Come on, Lil. I just wanted to say goodbye."

They both closed their eyes, thinking of Lily and their purpose in there.

When they opened their eyes again, the forest had disappeared, giving space to a completely blank space. Lily was standing in the middle, wearing the same clothes from the night of her death. She opened a grin as soon as she saw them.

"Lily!" Crying, Amy ran straight to her best friend's arms. Lysimachus watched from distance.

"Amy!" Lily also broke down in tears. "Girl, you did it. You defeated Rheya. You're the boss now, baby!"

"But... you died. You died to protect me, even after I was so mean to you."

"I understand. In your place, I'd be probably be mad too. Trust me, I'd never do anything to separate you and Kamilah. You guys are OTP."

"Do you..." Amy took a deep breath to recompose herself. "Do you forgive me?"

"You don't even have to ask," Lily wiped off some tears from her face. "But you gotta promise me one thing okay?"

"Anything."

"First of all, you need training. For your own safety and for all those around you. You have a great potential inside you, Amy, but you need to use it correctly. Then, be happy. Live your life with Kamilah at fullest. And if someday you two have kids, make sure to tell them about their aunt Lily."

Amy let out a laugh followed by some sobs.

"Of course," she hugged Lily again. "I'll make you proud, Lil. And I'll honor you, for the rest of my life. You'll be my best friend forever."

"Forever," Lily grabbed both of Amy's hands squeezing them tightly.

The scenario started to fade, suggesting they didn't have much time longer. Lysimachus gave the girls a signal.

"I love you, Lil. Goodb-"

"No, not a 'goodbye'. It's an 'I see you soon'."

"See you soon."

With Lily's last words of "I love you too", both of them got pulled back to reality.

"Oh man," Lysimachus fought a few tears himself. "That was intense."

"Thank you so much," Amy embraced him. "It was all I needed."

"You're welcome. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, only if we can have this massive party with lots of gaming later. In Lily's honor."

"Sure! We can arrange that."

Katherine and Kamilah were waiting at the living room. Amy greeted them with a smile, looking a lot better than before.

Before they left for Lily's funeral, Lysimachus' spoke in private to his girlfriend:

"So when you will say goodbye? It worked for Amy. Removed a burden from her shoulders."

"Someday," Katherine sighed. "Someday I'll be ready. I let you know."

----------

Kamilah

"No," Kamilah spoke over the phone, rolling her eyes, "I do not wish to model for your new line of hair products."

Amy quietly watched her from the couch. Lily's death had a great impact in her life. She was no longer that usual upbeat and optimistic young woman. Like, Kamilah she decided to stay away from the spotlights and social media for some time. Together they decided it was the best for her protection and for her mental health in that moment.

With the consent of her parents, Kamilah took Amy to her hometown. Being away from New York's never-stopping action and find some peace and quietness could be helpful to restore her mood. They'd be staying on the family's lake house for a few days.

"Oh, #Kamilahshair is also trending on Twitter. Again." Amy's father announced, making the female vampire almost drop her coffee.

"Excuse me?!"

"Your hair is becoming quite famous," Amy said as she sat by her side on the couch. "It's not exclusive for me to worship anymore."

"You know every part of me is exclusively yours, my love," Kamilah placed a kiss on her lips.

From the kitchen, Amy's mother cleared her throat, interrupting the moment. Though she was more tolerant, she still wouldn't accept any affection displays in her house.

"You two are almost as popular as the Twilight couple," Kamilah's father in law continued with his jokes. She learned where her wife had inherited her sense of humor from. "There are fandoms dedicated to your ship, thousands of fanfiction too."

"I don't understand any of these terms, Mr. Parker, but I suppose it's a good thing?"

"Come here to check it out."

Kamilah approached the man, who showed some of the work of their online fans. Some were very pleasant to read but some...

"Oh," Kamilah blushed in embarrassment. "This is... very detailed. And accurate."

"Okay," Mr. Parker closed the browser. "This is more information than I wanted to read."

"Guys!" Amy finally broke into a laugh. Kamilah closed her eyes savoring that moment. It was so good to hear that sound after so many days of silence and tears. "Stop, please."

After finishing breakfast, they returned to the lake house where Kamilah took the moment to appreciate the view in front of her.

"Remember the first time you brought me here? I was so frustrated I'd never be able to enjoy this place in your company during the day."

"Yes, then I showed you how fun it still could be at night. By breaking into the neighbors' hot tube."

"I'm feeling a little criminal today," Kamilah raised a suggestive eyebrow at her wife. "Aren't you?"

"Not really," Amy took a moment to answer. "It's Summer. The kids must be around."

They hadn't shared many romantic moments or any intimacy since the fight against Rheya. The girl turned around and headed back to the house. Kamilah could tell by her voice she was about to cry. She decided to follow her.

"Amy, what's happening? Is it because of Lily?"

"It's more serious than that. Those powers... I can sense them calling for me. Everytime I get angry or sad I feel I'll slip out of control and succumb to darkness again."

Kamilah sighed and joined her wife by the window. She tucked Amy's hair behind her ear and kissed her wet cheek.

"If that happens, I'll be by your side, making sure you'll come back."

"No, Kamilah. You don't understand... I could've killed you! In that moment I felt absolutely nothing. I was consumed by anger and hate."

"We can find a solution..." Kamilah spoke softly in her ear. "Together."

"Actually," Amy moved away from her, "we can't. I think we should follow separate ways for a while. It's the best for both of us."

"Amy..."

"Go back to New York, please. I'll stay here."

"Y-You can't be serious. We've been through so much together."

"I know," Amy approached again, holding both of her hands. "But this is something I must go through alone."

Respecting her wish, Kamilah packed her bags and entered the car. There was no goodbye kiss, Amy briefly waved her hand from the porch and returned inside. She thought it'd be better this way.

Kamilah felt like she had been punched in the stomach. In fact, a punch would've hurt less. All the times her enemies attempted to stake her or even extract her heart still didn't hurt that much. She felt crushed. In the end, Rheya had gotten exactly what she wanted.

"I absolutely hate this place," Kamilah complained inside the car, before starting to drive away.

----------

Amy

At night, Amy walked around the woods surrounding the lake house. She needed to clear off her head. Some kids were having a party somewhere nearby, she watched them from a distance. Only a few years back, she used to be one of them. In Summer, the whole family would reunite in the lake house, where she and her cousins threw great parties that gathered people from all over the town.

Those were good times without vampires, evil villains and sociopaths that wanted to take over the world.

"That's it, Amy. How it always meant to be. You brought back the First Vampire, defeated her and brought an era of peace. But... what now?"

Feeling sad and completely lonely, she stopped by the lake. The night made it appear dark and bottomless. She stared at her own reflection in the water.

"Demetrius, if only you could talk to me again. I could really use some advice."

Being without Kamilah was the last thing she wanted. God, she loved that woman so much. She could spend the eternity by her side and she knew she'd never grow tired or bored, Kamilah made it impossible. They had so many plans for the future, so many dreams... now everything seemed so distant again.

Footsteps behind her made her quickly react and turn around.

"Sorry," Katherine spoke. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"What are you doing here?" Amy asked. "Did Kamilah send you? Because I was very clear when I said I didn't want to see anybody."

"She didn't. Last time I saw her she was drowning in some fancy bourbon with Lysimachus. Actually, that may be the best bourbon I tasted in my entire life."

Amy forced a small smile. Of course Kamilah was drinking. Whenever she was too upset or too happy, alcohol was always present. She gave Katherine a sign to follow her inside the house.

"So," she grabbed the only thing she found inside the fridge, two cans of soda, "why are you here?"

"For a job," Katherine opened the can, drinking some of her soda. "You've been helping me to fight my demons, I'll help you to fight yours."

"How? I mean, there's nothing we can do. Rheya is gone, but her powers are eternal, immortal. They'll always linger in the air, seeking for a compatible target."

"We can't destroy it but we can banish it, and trap it inside of some container."

"And how much is it going to cost?" Amy let out a chuckle. "I mean, you always say your time is precious."

"Nothing," Katherine sighed. "Let's make it a girls night thing. Deal?"

"Deal. Where do we start?"

"Find us a container where we can trap Rheya's essence. I'll be outside preparing the ritual."

Amy searched the bedrooms hoping to find something, but as the house was rarely used in the last few years, there was nothing that could serve. She searched the kitchen's cabinets next, where she grabbed the only thing she thought that was appropriate for the purpose.

"Did you find anything?" Katherine asked while she finished placing some runes in a circle.

"Yes," Amy grinned ear to ear,s what she had in hands. "An empty jar of strawberry jam."

The Nighthunter broke into a laugh.

"Such a decadent ending for a Vampire Goddess, huh?!"

"Exactly. I thought my grandma's cookie jar was still too much for Rheya."

"Great, now give me the jar and stand in the middle of the circle."

Amy did as told. Being the most viable target, Katherine ordered her to attract the powers to herself. The girl bit her lower lip, feeling insecure.

"Are you sure this is safe?" She asked.

"No, it's not. I won't sugarcoat it for you," Katherine replied, bold and direct. "But do you have any other choice?"

She was right. If Amy wanted any chances of having a future by Kamilah's side, her only option was to trap those dark forces forever. She started to think of everything that made her sad, frustrated and especially angry. She remembered Lily. She pretended to desire for those powers to bring her back. She called for them. Suddenly that familiar cold breeze made all al her neck's hair spike up.

"It's here," she warned Katherine. "I can feel it."

"Stay in the circle until I tell you to leave." Katherine focused and started mumbling a few words in an ancient language. Amy could sense it coming closer and closer, starting to wrap around her body like dark tendrils. "Now!"

As Amy left the circle, Katherine switched places with her. The dark fog started to surround her, as if it was scanning for a vulnerability.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm not a viable host. It won't get me."

"That's what you think! Rheya was a mortal when Goddess Phampira granted her those powers. Katherine, get out!"

"Only a little longer."

After a few seconds, Katherine opened the jar and the dark force was immediately drained to the container. She quickly closed it, safely sealing it inside.

"Is it... over?" Amy asked in disbelief.

"I think so," Katherine concluded, examining the jar. "Now we must bury it somewhere no one will find."

"There's some rocks by the other side of the lake. Me and my cousins used to bury stuff there all the time. No one ever found them."

"If you say so."

With a shovel and a flashlight, Amy confirmed all their childhood treasures were still there, inside a deep hole among the rocks. She carefully placed the jar in there and covered the hole again.

Both of the women returned to the lake house, where Amy set up a fire outside. They both sat down in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

"You can come back to New York now," Katherine was the first to speak. "For your relationship's sake and mine too, Lysimachus gets really annoying when he drinks."

"He does," Amy laughed in agreement. However, there was something else that still prevented her from running back to her wife. "I can't go back. We banished Rheya's powers that remained loose on the universe, but I carry some of these powers myself too. Look what I did to the Order Of Dawn soldiers. I can lose control again."

"Oh about that, I have some contacts in Japan. There's this psychic vampire named Kano Yoshimasa, he's kind of a legend. You could appeal to him and ask for help with your powers."

"Really? I mean, Kamilah told me the vampires from Japan are far from friendly."

"Sweetheart," Katherine rolled her eyes, "you're kind of their leader now. Want them or not. They will have to accept you in their territory."

"Would you come with me, as some sort of mediator?"

"Okay but..."

Amy knew what the Nighthunter's face meant.

"I'll pay. I've earned more than enough selling details of my life to that movie."

After driving as fast as she could, Amy used her vampire speed to move faster. She didn't have to care anymore if mortals would notice it. With a smile on her face, she knocked the penthouse's door. Her heart pounding anxiously inside her chest.

When Kamilah opened the door, the first thing she did was pull her for a long and passionate kiss.

"Amy," her wife was kinda shocked by her sudden return. "This was quite a surprise."

"I know," she blushed and smiled. "I've got everything solved. Would you come to Japan with me?"

Kamilah took a moment to answer. She involved Amy in her arms, holding her very close to her chest.

"I'll go wherever you go. I'd follow you into hell itself."

----------

Lysimachus

"I thought we had an actual job here," Katherine complained inside the car. "And I only agreed to come because I know these lands."

"Really?" Lysimachus gave her an ironic look. "Or is it because you wanted to be here? It is an actual job, except that my employee is... not alive."

Lysimachus decided to accept Adrian's offer. In a few weeks when he started his campaign, he'd be taking the lead of Raines Corporation. Before that, he would be traveling Japan along his girlfriend and friends. Besides Amy and Kamilah, Jax agreed to follow them too.

Until then, he decided to enjoy his time by doing a few last jobs as a Nighthunter, together with Katherine. Their final stop was at a small town in New Mexico.

"I haven't visited since I left to New Orleans, about ten years ago."

"Come on," he placed a hand on his girlfriend's knee. "She want you to do this."

They left the car and he handed Katherine some flowers.

"Violets," she smiled, touching the petals. "Ava's favorites."

"Yeah, she was very specific."

Together, they followed into the cemetery. Despite the long years, Katherine still knew the way very well. They stopped at Ava's grave. The emptiness suggested no one had visited in a long time.

"Can you give us some privacy?"

"Sure."

Lysimachus sat down at a near bench, observing as Katherine kneeled down to place the flowers and caressed the picture in the tombstone. Then, she closed her eyes for a few minutes, muttering some words.

"Done," she returned to his side. "I told her how I feel, apologized for the millionth time and even said a prayer."

"Are you religious?" He asked. "I didn't know."

"I used to be, a little. Even if my parents..."

"Would you like to visit them?"

"No, we didn't part in good terms. They wished to never see me again. I'm respecting this wish."

Back to the car, Lysimachus couldn't understand how Katherine's parents could be so cruel and abandon her at the most difficult time of her life. No wonder she was so closed about her past and her feelings.

"It's not enough yet," Katherine broke the silence. "I can feel it. What's next?"

"Let me see," Lysimachus was pensive for a moment, remembering all the things he heard Ava's ghost saying. "There's one thing. I think we'll have the perfect opportunity for that."

They arrived in New York just in time for the party to honor Lily's life and to celebrate their next journey in Japan. Everyone was reunited at the Shadow Den bowling station. A few arcades had been installed, as well as a karaoke machine.

"Hey guys," Amy greeted them excited. "I thought you wouldn't be coming."

"Are you kidding?" Lysimachus messed up her hair. "We wouldn't miss it for anything."

"Can I steal Katherine for a minute?"

"Sure."

As soon as they left, Kamilah approached him bringing a drink. She looked happy and relaxed. Things between she and Amy were finally back to normal.

"So brother, are you ready? Have you ever been in Japan before?"

"Once. I must say I faced some trouble. This woman, Aiko Nakamura, wanted to capture me and throw me inside a dungeon. She said I remembered her of somebody she knew."

"Oh," Kamilah nearly choked with her drink for some reason. "I'm sorry about that."

"Anyways," Lysimachus shrugged. "I hope they're more friendly this time."

"And so do I."

Lysimachus reflected about everything they went through in the last couple of years. He let out a laugh.

"Due to our history, I doubt it. Trouble will always find us everywhere we go."

"Exactly. But as long as we're together everything ends up alright."

"To victory," he extended his glass to his sister. "And to family."

"Always," Kamilah clicked her glass against his.

"A minute of your attention please," Amy's voice, coming from the small improvised stage where the karaoke machine was set, got their attention. "To attend a very special request, I'll be singing Party In The USA. And Katherine will be helping me with this one."

A furious and embarrassed Nighthunter emerged from the middle of the crowd, playfully punching Lysimachus' arm.

"What is that?" She asked. "I know you're involved!"

"You said you'd do anything for Ava to move on," he started pushing her in the stage's direction. "Go. She wanted you to sing again."

"I hate you guys..."

"Welcome to the group, Katherine," Kamilah smiled. "I've been there too."

While the twins watched their significant others to playfully sing and dance at the stage, they exchanged one final glance and a smile. Their journey was far from over but after 2000 years of pain, both of them had finally found peace and love.

----------

Note: It's NOT over yet. Stay tuned!

[arigatouiris]

daughter of artemis // p.p — [09]

c h a p t e r  n i n e

Pairing: Peter Parker x Demigod! Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; greek mythology rewritten [completely my interpretation of it, oops]; slightly based off the games god of war and assassin’s creed odyssey; hurt/comfort; cliche; fluff [on later chapters sometimes]; mentions of sex and gore; slight alternate universe

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Author’s Note: Finally things are moving, I suppose? Do let me know what you think of the story? Nothing motivates me as much as people coming back to me saying they like this :”) Ughhh I wish I wasn’t such an attention seeking potato~

Word count: 4351

09 // λύκος wolf

❅

It wasn’t hard to find out that (y/n) was a student at Midtown High. Girl from Greece, having not blipped, facts matched together and Natasha had hit the jackpot. She was one of the best spies in the world, so obviously, this was easy as eating pie. The difficult part was to get Tony to do anything about this, and since Pepper had already decided that she would speak to the girl, all that Natasha had to do was tell her. However, there was still hope in her heart that Tony would suck it up and take responsibility.

Tony’s cabin wasn’t too far from the city, and even if the man never really visited the Stark tower as much (ever since it started functioning again), Pepper would go and come in every time. Tony had retired from the Avengers, as had Steve, and was now trying very hard to spend time with his daughter, while Steve went around travelling by himself.

As soon as Natasha entered the cabin, she saw Tony point a water gun at her. She rolled her eyes and ignored him, as she sat down on the couch in the living room.

    “Are you even allowed to walk?” Nat snapped.

    “It’s my hand that’s gone, Nat, not my legs. And I just moved like, three steps from the bedroom to the couch. You can’t be that worried about me, can you?”

    “Her name is (y/n), and she’s a student at Midtown High.” Nat said, bringing it back to the subject.

Tony narrowed his eyes but he wasn’t going to tell Nat off for mentioning her. He knew that each time Natasha came home, it was about the girl who claimed to be his daughter. Scrunching his eyebrows together, Tony wondered out loud.

    “Does she know she’s my daughter or are you the one guessing?”

    “When have my guesses been wrong?” Nat said, folding her arms, confidently.

    “Alright, but does she know?”

Natasha shook her head, “The last time I met her, she didn’t know. Something tells me that if she did, she’d have come to you.”

Tony sighed. “Midtown, huh? That’s where the kid goes.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows, “Peter?”

    “Yep.” Tony popped the ‘p’ at the end.

    “Then you can ask him about her—”

    “F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you call Peter for me?”

Natasha felt relieved. “At least meet her, Tony. She deserves that much. And I trained her, so I can tell she’s a good girl.”

    “You trained her as in?” Tony said, as the phone rang. “Oh, hey. Pete. Great. My home. Dinner. Tonight. See you.”

    “That’s how you invite him to your house?” Natasha asked, judgingly.

    “The kid gets me.”

Natasha was there when Peter arrived. He was wearing his suit, which must have made it easier for him to travel all the way here without a car. Morgan waved at Spiderman before Pepper took her inside. Peter opened his mask and looked at Peter confusedly.

    “Mr. Stark, I thought—”

    “Dinner later, kid. You go to Midtown, right?”

Before Peter could even answer, “Right. So you must know someone named (y/n)?”

It was at this did Peter’s eyes widen. For some reason, his heart rate accelerated, and it showed on his face. Natasha observed his facial expressions and turned to Tony, who was sitting on the couch, eating doritos.

    “(y/n)?” Peter’s voice came out as a whisper. “W-What about her?”

    “Not the question here, Spider boy. Tell me about this girl.”

She’s mysterious but that’s because she’s been alone for so long, she has no friends and maybe MJ is her friend, but she didn’t want to watch Star Wars with me and maybe that’s why I think she doesn’t want me to be her friend; she fights like a pro and has beaten me twice, “She’s… uh, nice?”

Tony blinked at him. “Nice.”

Peter gulped before saying, “She’s uh, no one really talks to her. She’s reserved. Um… Not to say she’s weird or anything, I meant, she just… she focuses on classwork and uh… She definitely doesn’t know me but knows Spiderman… Nothing very weird—”

    “So you’re not friends?” Natasha asks, narrowing her eyebrows.

    “No!” Peter exclaimed, surprising everyone in the room. “No, I-I mean, I know her name because we share homeroom and a few classes.”

He had no idea why he was keeping her personality and her training routines a secret. For some reason, he felt as if she needed to keep it a secret and it wasn’t his to share. It wasn’t as if she was going around telling everyone about Peter being Spiderman; this was the least he could do, even if he didn’t want to confront her about knowing him.

Tony let out a sigh before saying, “Let’s have dinner and call it a night.”

The next morning, Peter didn’t see (y/n) in class. The class didn’t have English literature class either but that was because Professor Alec had reported in sick. Peter’s heart dropped, suddenly worrying about (y/n)’s whereabouts, and if Tony and Natasha were inquiring about her, was she a threat? She knew how to fight, rather well in fact, did that mean she was trouble? Worry clouded his mind and even Ned couldn’t take his mind off things.

There was no way she’s a threat, right? He thought to himself as he exited school that day. I’ll go see her, he thought, panic rising in his system as he changed into his spidersuit. Swinging by buildings, Peter travelled as fast as he could to (y/n)’s rooftop, before realizing she was not there. Landing on her roof, Peter’s heart rate remained escalated, and he let out a shaky breath.

Where are you, (y/n)? He thought, rubbing a hand across his face. Please, tell me you’re not a threat, tell me you’re not bad.

However, (y/n) was at the park that day. The park that led to the forest clearing. Waking up from a dream that she was in a forest, (y/n) had had enough of the city. She was the daughter of Artemis, the goddess of the hunt—and by its name, she was not meant for city life. Removing her shoes at the entrance of the forest, (y/n) walked inside and breathed in the chilly air. The atmosphere was damp ever since her uncle had gone missing, the skies were cloudy and drizzling most of the time. This was not weather usual to New York, but that didn’t matter.

She could picture her mother laughing by her side, teaching her the ways of the wilderness. She missed her mother so much, it broke her heart—being alone for five years without a parental figure like her for so long, without a friend who she could confide in, it changed her. (y/n) was starting to think tragedy was her default state, and all the appreciation she could nurture for her uncle was slipping away.

She was alone in the world, the only demigod alive. She had no life as a human and she had no life as a god, so therefore this prophecy gave her the only hope she could cling to. By becoming a God, at least she wouldn’t be half of something. And to her, being half of something made her feel less than anything.

Her eyes widened when she spotted a lone grey wolf at the far corner. The wolf sensed her, and because she was the daughter of the hunt, it didn’t run away. Wolves were shy creatures, much like herself, wouldn’t open up to the world until the world proved itself to them. The grey wolf watched her, its eyes shone a bright yellow, its poise majestic. A smile appeared on her lips as she tried to connect with the animal mentally, wanting to communicate with the animal as she had many years ago with other wolves.

A second later, a spear lodged itself into the side of the wolf, earning an ugly shriek from the animal as it fell to the side. (y/n)’s eyes widened and she let out a scream, before turning to see where the spear came from. At the right side corner, stood a man, holding another spear, his eyes shining a bright yellow as well.

The wolf was whimpering in pain, and the yellow-eyed man approached it; angry out of her mind, (y/n) took out her dagger and held it tightly in her hand, but the man didn’t even notice her. Or if he did, he didn’t care. (y/n) ran to the wolf and sat by its side, saliva and blood oozing out of its wounds and mouth. (y/n) was crying at the pain that the wolf was in, but the man merely crouched down and put his hand on the wolf, before something unusual happened. He drained it of its blood, as if it was an easy task—his hand seemed to absorb the blood of the wolf, (y/n) was too shocked to even react.

However, just as she held her dagger and was ready to attack, she smelled him. He smelled exactly like the Hyena did, but there was blood in the air. And this smell ignited fear in her heart, as the girl stood up and walked backwards. The Wolf then met her eyes and smirked, before howling once, summoning four more wolves that appeared in the shadows.

She knew of a wolf’s wrath, and she was not going to mess with it. Gasping, (y/n) made a run for it, the fear only escalating in her heart. She ran to the park but she was too deep inside the forest to reach the clearing quickly. Turning back, she noticed the wolves chasing her, but the Wolf henchman stood, his spear by his side, smirking at her. What the hell? She thought, tears leaking out of her eyes due to the wind hitting her face, as she ran out of the forest. She knew she could get into the city and the wolves would leave, they wouldn’t follow her into the city, this she knew for sure.

But, what she didn’t know was that the man could. Running back to her house, she locked the door and placed a chair in front of the door, blocking anyone from entering. She didn’t know why she was this afraid. She couldn’t think straight, all she knew was that she was not ready.

The Wolf had used her own ability against her. As the daughter of the hunt, (y/n) always had the power of the animals with her, but now, it had turned against her. She couldn’t understand how the Wolf could make the animals turn on her, but whatever it was, she knew she was not ready.

A second later, the door was kicked open and there stood the yellow-eyed man. He licked his lips a couple of times, like a wolf would before a hunt, and stepped inside. (y/n) tried to attack him, but he kicked her strongly in the chest, sending her flying to the wall behind her. Just before she could get up, the Wolf threw his spear at her. The weapon grazed the side of her hip sharply, earning a blood-curdling scream from her, it was the same area where the Boar henchman had thrown a javelin at her, five years ago. Unable to move, (y/n) sunk to the ground and shut her eyes, the pain was too immense, and there was blood everywhere. She could barely see, and her mind was replaying every image of her mother and Peter and her uncle on repeat. She didn’t know why she saw Peter, she didn’t know if he was important, but she saw him.

A moment later, the Wolf grabbed her by her throat and raised her in the air. She gasped for air, but the gasping gave her more pain. Her hands fell limp by her sides and her vision was turning dark.

In a last moment of strength, (y/n) clutched onto her dagger and stabbed with every ounce of strength she had left, but the Wolf caught her arm before the dagger was anywhere close. As the Wolf was choking her neck harder, she prayed to her uncle, and waited for a sign.

The sign came through the window. The Wolf was thrown off her, as (y/n) fell to the ground harshly. She was now lying on her back, her wound bleeding out. She had lost a great amount of blood, but even then she knew who had saved her. Spiderman had jumped in through the window and kicked the Wolf when he wasn’t watching. Gathering her life force, (y/n) knew this was her last shot. Grabbing her dagger, she made her way to the Wolf as he was on the ground and stabbed his neck, slowly, pushing the blade into his neck smoothly. No blood came out of him, not even the red hot mud that usually would.

The yellow-eyed man simply vanished.

(y/n) fell back, coughing. She felt someone hold her and she knew who it was, but her eyes could barely see him. She couldn’t tell if he had removed his mask or if she was actually seeing his face as an illusion.

    “H-Hey… Peter Parker.” Was the last thing she remembered saying before falling unconscious.

❅

The wound was bad, Peter knew bad wounds when he saw them. The house was a mess, it was as if a tornado had landed inside her living room and had displayed everything in sight. Luckily, in the mess, he had managed to find a first aid box and could patch her up in time. Peter was so confused as to who or what had attacked her, and all that training now made sense; but this revelation led to a whole other mystery as to what those things were.

It was 1:30 a.m in the night when she regained consciousness. Peter stuck around, he had gone on a few patrols before coming back. He tried to clear things in her apartment to the best of his abilities, but even then, he knew it wasn’t a great job. At least it doesn’t look like a tornado just danced in here, he thought before looking at a sleeping (y/n).

She shifted in her sleep and said random words like ‘Apollo’ and ‘Zeus’ and Peter thought it must be because she likes Greek mythology.

When she opened her eyes, Peter was almost asleep. She groaned once, not wanting to wake him, but that was enough for him to break out of his almost slumber.

    “How do you feel?” Peter asked, his voice low.

    “Thirsty.” Her voice was raspy, and her face was very sweaty.

    “You have to sweat this fever out, (y/n).” Peter said, giving her water.

The girl tried sitting up, but Peter shook his head. He helped her a moment later, and placed a couple of pillows (some he had brought from his house when she was asleep) behind her.

    “(y/n), what the hell was that?” Peter asked, his eyes full of fear.

There was no answer.

    “I’m sorry I figured out who you are.” (y/n) said, turning to him. She felt weak, but she knew this feeling. It was like five years ago. A clean up and a few tight bandages would enable her ready to go to school in the morning.

    “It wasn’t a well kept secret. I freaked out when you mentioned Star Wars. That’s how you figured it out, wasn’t it?” Peter asked, smiling a bit.

(y/n) chuckled dryly.

    “(y/n), please,” Peter turned the subject around. “MJ knows, doesn’t she?”

(y/n)’s eyes met Peter’s brown ones and she could think of her vision again. Eyes that begged her not to go, only she didn’t know where they were begging her not to go to. Once again, another dream where Spiderman appeared before her, holding her hands, placing his forehead to hers and saying ‘You can have a life here, with me’.

    “Why is Tony Stark looking for you?”

(y/n) shrugged. She knew Tony Stark was Ironman, the man who saved the whole world. Oddly, she had more respect for this man than she had for most of the Gods. She could feel Peter’s eyes on her; she knew his frustration, the fact that he didn’t know anything about her, the fact that Tony was looking for her, the fact that MJ knew and he didn’t—all of this frustrated him. Does she not trust me? Peter thought, dejectedly.

    “(y/n),” His voice was merely a whisper, “I can be your friend too.”

All she could do was smile at him. Peter was a soft person, wanting to do good to everyone around him. She knew he wanted to help her, she knew that was who he is as a person. With him sitting there without his mask on only showed that he trusted her.

    “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Peter,” (y/n) whispered back herself. His hand was on the bed, dangerously close to her own. “It’s best for you if you don’t know.”

Strangely, he understood this sentiment even if he didn’t like it. However, he knew it was not his call to make. Maybe there was a reason she could tell MJ and not Peter, and with Tony Stark looking for her, maybe she’s only being cautious.

    “You’re such a good guy, Peter.” (y/n) whispered, smiling to herself. Her eyes landed on how close their hands were, and thought that maybe, one day, she could gather the courage and close the gap.

❅

When Peter saw (y/n) come to school the next day as if nothing happened, he immediately stood up from his seat, with his eyes wide and jaw dropping. Ned looked at his friend like he needed help, the rest of the class looked at Peter like he was losing it. (y/n) waved at him before sitting down at her desk, smirking at Peter’s awkwardness.

After homeroom, Peter rushed to where (y/n) was and slammed his hand on her desk, earning her attention. She merely chuckled before looking up at him with an amused expression.

    “What are you doing here?”

    “Getting an education like the rest of us, Peter Parker.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

    “Why? I actually don’t. Care to enlighten me?”

He knew she was teasing, but he was relentless.

    “(y/n), that wound was bad. You know it was, you can’t be here,” Although his voice was a whisper, Peter knew she heard him. “You should rest.”

    “You’ve come here after getting badly hurt as your alter-ego, haven’t you?”

    “Y-Yeah, but that’s different—”

    “How is it different?” (y/n) placed her chin on her hand, rested on her elbow.

    “I’m asking you to rest because I care about—”

    “Actually, it’s internalised patriarchy that makes you want me to rest and not show up to class, while you think you can do literally the same thing and be fine.”

Peter glared at her. “I am not—”

(y/n) placed her hand on Peter’s and said, “Relax, Peter Parker. I’m fine. Thanks for worrying.”

Peter was used to people making him blush, since he almost blushed for everything. As a person who got embarrassed too quickly, and too easily, Peter was used to blushing out of embarrassment. However, this was something else. It was not like when Liz made him blush, this was something else entirely. As he felt her hand on top of his, Peter finally took a good look at her sparkling eyes. He began to question if they were always this shiny, he began to question if her smile always sat on her face that way, if her voice always sounded so soft when she said his name—God, he loved the way she said his name.

    “You there?” She tilted her head slightly and shattered his heart.

    “Oh shit.” Peter understood what this was, and pulled his hand away abruptly.

    “You’re looking quite hot there, Peter Parker. You alright?” (y/n) asked, concerned.

But, obviously, Peter took it in another way. Turning his back to her, he walked back to his desk, ignoring her questioning gaze. She smiled at him amusedly, before shaking her head to herself.

That day, she ate lunch with them. This was the first time she ate lunch with someone else in five years, as MJ, Peter and Ned sat there, talking animatedly about something. MJ focused on her food and sometimes looked at her, before smiling briefly. (y/n) felt warm, a feeling she hadn’t quite understood or experienced before. She had read books on friendship and even managed to watch anime regarding the same, but had never experienced it.

To her, friendship was like space. She knew what it was, she knew it existed, but had never really witnessed it first hand. And whatever this was, what she was feeling that day while eating lunch with them, made her forget about being a demigod. Right at that second, she was (y/n), a human being, a school student, a friend. She caught Peter gaze at her, a soft smile on his lips as Ned was arguing with MJ about something, and she smiled back—feeling a jitter in her stomach.

She immediately looked away, feeling warmth envelop her cheeks. It was uncomfortable, but for the first time, she didn’t mind it.

When MJ and (y/n) headed to the library after lunch, (y/n) told her that Alec was her uncle, Apollo, who was masquerading as a human.

    “He’s the God of the Sun?” MJ whisper-yelled, causing (y/n) to chuckle.

    “But, something’s wrong. He hasn’t been listening to my voice for days now. I managed to kill the Wolf henchman yesterday, which marks two henchmen down, but he’s nowhere to be seen. And it’s been strangely cloudy these few days. I hope nothing happened to him.”

    “Maybe he went back home for a while?”

(y/n) shook her head, “Not without telling me.”

What was worse was how (y/n) was aware of weather changes all over the world. Two of his henchmen were gone, Zeus was angry, and whenever Zeus was angry, he would let it pour on the mortal world. This was always the question, whenever the Gods were angry, they would let it out on the humans. Bridges had collapsed in Greece, it rained for three days straight in India, there were cyclones near the Maldives.

She knew what this was. She had sensed and felt this before, she was sensing it once again. Zeus was angry.

When she reached home that day, she noticed Zeus standing by her window. She was injured, she knew she couldn’t take on the King of the Gods, but she would try. But before that, she knew what she had to ask.

    “Where’s my uncle?”

    “Took you long to figure out that Apollo is dead.”

The first word her mind conjured was ‘no’; there was a feeling of disbelief that came over her, that took over, and she kind of went through the motions. She did what she was supposed to do, but in fact she was nowhere close to accepting it.

    “No. You’re lying. He’s literally the sun—”

    “A God’s death works strangely, doesn’t it? Artemis is dead, but the moon still lives.”

Tears filled her eyes and her heart sank. She was suddenly breathless, and the feeling in her knees weakened. However, before she collapsed to the ground, Zeus turned around, his sword, Thunderbolt, right at his hand. She knew it was him. She didn’t need proof, she knew. Her eyes narrowed, the tears now spilling down, as she seethed,

    “You killed him.”

Zeus scoffed before walking toward her, and in an instant, he attempts to stab her; however, her wrath was far stronger, and she was no longer the scrawny little 13-year old that Zeus had his henchman throw a javelin at. She was the one throwing javelins now.

In a brief moment, she kicked Zeus’ sword off his hands and pushed him away from her, before walking over to him. Zeus’ eyes widened, and he evaporated, knowing his efforts were futile right then. This shocked her. (y/n) let out a scream, angry of Zeus’ cowardice, angry of her uncle’s death, purely angry for her own weakness.

    “You told me you couldn’t die!” She screamed, placing her head in her hands and sobbing.

Blinking away her tears, as a last sign of hope, (y/n) ran to her roof before looking at the sky. Once again, New York was cloudy, the sun was nowhere in sight. Her heart sank at the realization that her uncle was truly gone, Zeus had killed his own son for siding against him. Breathing back sobs, (y/n) sat down on the ground and wept, before falling asleep on the terrace itself. What felt like a few hours later, (y/n) woke up to birds chirping.

The sky was clear, and it was sunrise. Groaning, (y/n) realized she had slept on the ground all night. As if it was a late realization, her eyes shot open wide and she turned to the east, seeing the sun rise.

    “I cannot die, you idiot. But, if someone stabs me in the chest, I can get hurt.”

Suddenly, when she turned to spot her uncle, sitting on the ground not too far from her, she felt a strange feeling; it was as if her mother had come down and held her for a minute, and everything she had ever looked for had appeared in front of her magically. She rushed to her uncle and engulfed him in a hug, feeling his arms wrap around her weeping form. It was strange; and if only she had thought that the feeling she had felt was merely relief and not an actual blessing, she might have uttered a few more words than just her uncle’s name.

❅

series taglist:

Those I could not tag, I’ve added your urls here!

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