#I think he’d avoid being found due to the fear it would usher him back into the spot light only to be thrown out when something more

[movedtodykedvonte]

Honestly, If this piece of shit would do something like this, give people clues and make them think someone kidnapped him, i hope someone would kick his ass after finding out about it. I mean, it sounds kind of funny in thoughts, but imagine worrying about a missing person, just to find out that this ass was making gun of you the whole time

Though maybe he would actually hide, on be completely oblivious to anything not about mansion, NEO etc ┐⁠(⁠ ⁠∵⁠ ⁠)⁠┌

It’s just thoughts but I think he’s purposely ignore it or think it was a trick. Whatever exactly went down deeply disturbed and traumatized him to the point he doesn’t think he needs anyone despite the constant cries for help and inherent desire to not be lonely. Like in all actuality he might leave little traces of his existence around subconsciously cause the coherent and stable parts of his mind just want security but that’s overruled by whatever corrupted him and his thoughts of heaven/freedom/rebigshotification.

To him it’s all just to mock him, I don’t think he has the ability to see anything not incited by him or that is not a deal that is also beneficial to his well being as a trick. The intentions to ridicule and insult him further. The only way I feel like anyone would know what actually went down is after the fun gang dealt with him or if they put like a $1.50 in a raccoon trap and waited long enough.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

A Heartbeat Away | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.7k

✦ based off the song I Should’ve Kissed You by One Direction

✦ summary — Damian is haunted by the fact that he only said good night when he should have kissed you.

✦ warnings — light angst, mentions of pregnancy (a minor character is pregnant), mentions of food and beverages, fluff.

✦ author's note i — randomly remembered my obsession with this song and couldn’t get it out of my head.

✦ author's note ii — the parts in italics are flashbacks.

════════════════════════

Ever since he started living with Jason, Damian found himself straying away from the things that held him back.

His life would never be normal, but in hindsight, he could admit things weren’t as bad.

The fallout with his father came crashing down in the worst moment possible — Dick was dead and his relationship with Tim wasn’t the best.

As little as he knew Jason, he was sure he could trust him so he asked for his help instead of somebody else’s.

And Jason didn’t say no. Whether he had the heart to do it or not was irrelevant because he still took Damian in and helped him find a job.

He hated said job.

‘It’s a job,’ you had told him, ‘you’re not supposed to like it.’

You.

Damian rarely stopped thinking about you. Calling it infatuation felt like an understatement, and yet he couldn’t find a better word to describe the whirlwind of emotions you gave him.

He still remembered the day he met you for the first time.

Jason paced in the living room, perking up every time he heard a noise outside the apartment.

You’re driving me insane,” Damian said from the small dining table.

”Roy’s late.”

”Why are you surprised?”

Jason glared at him.

Both of them heard somebody stand on the other side of the door. Their steps didn’t sound like Roy’s.

Pulling the door open, Jason was ready to snap at whoever had knocked.

“You ordered something and gave my apartment number instead of yours. Again.”

Damian didn’t recognize the voice so he slanted his body to the side to see who it was. He couldn’t stop staring.

”I’ll make it up to you.”

”Jay,” you sighed. “I’ve told you before, you just need to tell me beforehand if you don’t want things to arrive to your apartment. My roommate could have opened it.”

Damian chuckled, a single elbow resting on the table.

Jason craned his neck. “You think this is funny?”

”I think you’re a moron.”

”Shut up and come meet our neighbor.”

Damian didn’t have to be told twice. He stood up with an eagerness he hadn’t felt since Jason texted him to let him know he had found the materials so he could build a suit and go back to patrol.

”This is my brother Damian.” Jason turned around to place the package under the table next to the door.

He knew you’d either seen him before or heard about him the moment his eyes landed on you. People always had a visceral reaction when they met him, some found him attractive, others attempted to ask for favors, and some recoiled in fear.

But you didn’t. You held his gaze and stood in the same spot you had been since you knocked on the door.

And whether it had been in a newspaper or a gossip forum, he was glad you knew something about him. There was something about the way you stared at him that screamed for him to trust you. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

“Nice to meet you,” you politely said, smiling at him.

Stunned by the fact that you hadn’t mocked him, and now assuming it wasn’t wishful thinking after all, he tilted his head. Most people did mock now that he wasn’t under his father’s wing.

Still, he said, “Likewise.”

Your smile became warmer. “I live three doors down the hallway in case you need anything.”

He felt a pang in his chest at the gesture. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Weird sensations in his chest were normal when he was around you. Befriending you was easier than he’d ever admit and talking to you became the highlight of his day.

The pangs in his chest turned into a fluttering sensation in a heartbeat. You’d make him feel breathless when you did the smallest things — when you smiled at him, when you complained about other neighbors with him, when you asked about his day.

He felt special. For once in his life for being the closest he had ever been to resemble a normal person.

And he also remembered, quite painfully, that night he let you walk away without mustering the courage to tell you —or show you— the way you made him feel.

The deserted hallway was yet another proof of how easy it was to lose track of time around you.

Damian hadn’t expected to get back home past midnight or to skip patrol, but 1:00 AM turned into 2:00 and he couldn’t part from you no matter how many times he tried to remind himself to do it.

He hadn’t even expected to enjoy the state fair as an adult, yet he couldn’t remember a time he had more fun than that evening.

You gazed up at him, waiting for him to either do or say something. Anything other than stare at you in the middle of the hallway.

You had already thanked him for making you company, there was no way you’d say anything. And he froze.

“Good night,” he sputtered.

Your brow twitched. “Night.”

He watched you unlock your door and get inside your apartment with a heavy heart.

You moved out a couple months ago and he hadn’t seen you since then. The texts the two of you exchanged were sporadic and they bordered in formal.

He should have kissed you, he was aware of that. And to make matters worse, Jason chewed him out when he found out.

He still looked for you every morning he left the apartment as though you’d remember you had forgotten something. That you had forgotten him.

Jon said it was for the best, that somebody as sweet as you didn’t deserve to carry with his baggage.

Damian knew his best friend to be right, but how could he let go of you that easily when you made him see he was more than his mistakes and regrets?

He didn’t need anybody to carry him, he could drag himself anywhere if needed.

He simply hated the hole in the pit of his stomach every time he entertained the possibility of having to see you one day with somebody else because he wasn’t brave enough to say what he needed to let out.

The idea of being out of time was killing him slowly, so naturally, he’d sought a quick death.

════════════════════════

You gasped upon opening the door. You weren’t expecting anybody to be outside — much less Damian Wayne.

“Oh!”

“Hi,” he softly greeted.

You blinked rapidly. “Did you need anything?”

“I wanted to... Are you on your way out?”

“I’m just dropping this off for my mom.” You momentarily lifted the bags you were carrying in one hand. “She lives nearby.”

He spared a look to the reusable bags in your grasp. “Is she sick?”

“Pregnant,” you explained, playing with your keys. “It’s high risk due to her age so we take as much care of her as we can.”

Damian walked backward, allowing you to come out of the apartment and lock the door.

As you pushed the door to make sure it was locked, he asked, “Would you care for some company?”

Turning around, you gave him a small smile. “That would be lovely.”

He reached over. “Let me help.”

“They’re not heavy.”

“I insist.”

”Okay.” You handed him the bags and took the initiative to lead the way.

He reached your side immediately.

Not knowing what else to do, aware you’d let something slip if you didn’t find something, you made small talk. “How’s Jason?”

“As annoying as always.”

You still remembered when he meant those words, when he complained about Jason and how often they butted heads. His tone was different now, lighter, almost playful.

“Good to know some things never change.”

You walked the streets with an ease you hadn’t been able to in years. Growing up in that neighborhood meant which streets to avoid, and sadly, most of them were unsafe.

There were many things you could have asked or said, perhaps apologize for being cold while texting.

You were in your right to be cold and you could have just not answered, but you wanted to keep contact even though you were hurt.

Damian was great company. It was a shame you misread the entire situation and couldn’t go back to chat with him like before.

It took you a few attempts to get them to talk comfortably, but once he was able to, he didn’t look back. He even gossiped with you.

Stopping in front of the house, you looked around to make sure your mom had the windows open. Once sure, you walked up the front steps.

You withdrew a single key from your back pocket and extended your other hand so Damian would give you the bags.

The floors were recently mopped which meant your aunt had visited that day.

“It’s me,” you yelled so your mom wouldn’t get up. It was her time to be watching TV in the living room.

Carrying the bags towards the kitchen, you caught the jingle from a commercial.

You filled a glass with water and added a couple of ice cubes.

Your mom was comfortably sat on a recliner, feet up and remote control on her thigh. “Hurry back before it gets dark.”

“Don’t worry, a friend of mine walked me here.” You handed her the glass. “Do you need anything else?”

She ignored your question as she took the glass. “Who is it?”

“You don’t know him.”

“Him?” She lifted an eyebrow.

You hadn’t mentioned a guy to her in almost two years now, her surprise was understandable. “Not now.”

“Oh, so it is like that?”

Maybe it was and maybe that was the issue. She wouldn’t blame you if she knew him like you did, if she heard him laugh or saw him change his demeanor to accommodate to somebody else’s sensibilities.

You didn’t think you’d witness anything remotely close to that when you met him for the first time, but you learned really quickly that Damian was full of surprises.

“I’ll call in the morning in case you need something. I’m working ’til 3:00 PM tomorrow.”

“It’s okay.” She took a sip of water. “Did you bring anything sweet?”

“Homemade muffins and a few chocolate bars. Do you want one now?”

She shook her head. “I’ll wait after dinner.”

You kissed her cheek. “Call me, please.”

“Go, go.” She ushered you to go with a gesture of her hand. “Don’t make your friend wait.”

It was your time to ignore her comment.

Damian was sat on the front steps when you came out, looking up at the darkening sky.

“Is everything alright?” you asked in a whisper as to not scare him.

“No.” He shook his head and stood up. “I mean, yes. How’s your mother?”

“She’s good. Having fun watching reality TV.”

Damian squinted. “Is reality TV really that entertaining?”

“It’s mindless stuff, but it’s fun sometimes. You get to judge other people’s lives without feeling remorse because it’s most likely fake.”

The walk back was way shorter and you didn’t want to part. It was time to swallow your pride and your feelings for him.

He didn’t part ways with you at the building entrance. He walked beside you until you reached the elevator — Damian extended his arm to keep the doors open and allowed you to get in first. He followed suit.

You turned the lights on with Damian on your tail. He did wait for you to invite him in, but you were sure both of you knew there was no way you wouldn’t.

“I made muffins. Do you want one?”

Damian nodded.

You guided him to the dining table where a trippy vase in pastel colors rested with flowers.

He looked around the apartment as he walked towards the table. As he sat down, he fixed his eyes on the vase.

“Green or black?”

“Mmh?”

“Your tea.”

You could swear you saw him smile to himself.

“Black.” He placed his cellphone on the table. “You still have that thing,” he said, referring to the trippy vase.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He huffed a laugh. “Jason said it was ugly.”

“Jason doesn’t have the best taste in the world,” you lightheartedly retorted.

The vase was precious to you, a gift from Damian who spooked you in the middle of a rainy night and made you knock your favorite vase.

You set a plate in front of him and placed the muffin there. “Your tea’s almost ready.”

“No roommate this time?”

“Nope. I miss Lou, but I don’t miss having a roommate that much.”

“I thought the move was temporary just so you could be close to your mother...”

“It is, but there’s still a long way to go. The baby should be here next month and she’ll need help around the house.” You disappeared for a moment as you looked for a mug.

Having found one, you dropped the teabag and poured the boiling water in.

“Sugar.” You put the sugar bowl down just in front of the mug. Feeling his eyes on the side of your face, you gazed at him. “It’s brown, don’t worry.”

He relaxed and uncovered the sugar bowl. “Is the father of your mother’s child around?”

“Yeah.” You sat down on the chair closest to his. “She remarried last year and her husband tries to help, but you know, work gets in the way.”

“Tell me if I can help with anything.”

“Don’t worry, you have enough things to juggle with already.”

“What’s one more? At least let me make you company or walk you home. These streets are dangerous.”

You softly nodded. From the day you met him you knew you would never be able to tell him no — and having his company after a long day sounded nice.

“So...”

“So,” you encouraged him to go on.

“Are you seeing anybody?”

“No. I thought I was a little while ago, but...” You hoped he’d understand what you were getting at. “I guess something got lost in translation.”

“Did it? Or was he too much of a coward to show the way he felt?”

“Don’t.” You hated hearing him talk like that about himself.

“You don’t know how much I regret not kissing you that night. I—“ He sighed, twisting his mouth as he frowned. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“At least now I know you did think about doing it.”

“I did. Many times throughout the night.” He turned to the side to fully look at you. “I wanted to find the perfect moment and became overwhelmed. Sounds like a bad excuse, but I swear it’s the truth.”

“I believe you.”

Damian scooted closer and reached over to place his hand on your face. Softly, he caressed your cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

You leaned onto his touch, tilting your head. “Me too. Sorry for being such an ass.”

“It’s fine. I would have reacted similarly.”

“Similarly or worse?”

“Worse.”

You laughed, making him smile.

“May I?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Damian leaned in, placing his free hand on the back of your chair as his nose brushed yours.

His lips softly connected with yours, but the slow pace didn’t last. The two of you had wasted too much time, thrown away too many opportunities to be this close —or closer— and patience wasn’t a virtue Damian possessed.

The chair was now balancing itself in two legs, making you interrupt the kiss with a squeal.

Damian then made you stand up and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips were immediately back on yours.

Your hands went up to rest on his biceps as he kissed you again. His arms tightened around you as he deepened the kiss and you melted.

You melted into the kiss, onto his warmth, due to the fact that he wanted this as much as you did.

Kissing him had become a mere fantasy for you, and there he was, not only making it a reality but exceeding your expectations.

Grabbing him by the neck, you broke the kiss in search of air. His breath was barely ragged and you remembered he told you he could hold it in for a long time.

You needed him to teach you just to be able to kiss him for longer.

“That was nice,” you said, still breathless.

“Yeah, really nice. We should do it more often.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m telling you I want you to be mine.”

All in or nothing, of course. Jason had warned you that Damian didn’t take things lightly.

But you were okay with that.

[thatkidwholikesthunderbirds]

TAG Mini Bang 2021

Hey fam, This is mine and the amazing @katblu42′s contribution to the @tagminibang. Katblu42 wrote the story, of which I love so much, and i made a couple of doodles to go with it.

We both worked really hard on it, hope you enjoy.

***

Deep Water

The summer is drawing to an end when an almost-twelve-year-old Virgil is lumped with looking after little bro Gordon for the day. When a simple walk in the woods becomes more than they bargained for, the pair must work together to overcome their fears.

Written by @katblu42

***

“Hey, Virgil. Whatcha doin’?” Gordon bounced down the stairs and watched his brother carefully pack his brand-new artist’s set of watercolour pencils, mini easel, and sketchbook into his backpack, using one of his hoodies for padding. “I’m gonna go out on the top track and try out my new pencils. It’s gonna be a really nice day for practicing landscapes. I want to try and capture the way the light filters through the trees and . . .” As Virgil excitedly rambled on about all the things he wanted to draw, Lucy emerged from the kitchen with a lunchbox packed with sandwiches and snacks and two water bottles for Virgil to add to his bag. She ignored the eye-rolling from the younger boy, who obviously didn’t share the enthusiasm for artistic inspiration. Placing a hand on Virgil’s shoulder as she handed him the last of the supplies, Lucy smiled. “Sounds like the two of you are going to see all kinds of wonders today,” she said. Virgil opened his mouth to question, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak. “You’re going to take your brother with you.” “But . . .” was all Virgil managed to squeak out, while Gordon sported a look of surprised incredulity. “It will do you both the world of good to spend some time together, just the two of you.”

Lucy knew these two didn’t always get along, mostly due to Gordon’s talent for finding exactly the right buttons to push to try Virgil’s patience. In fact, Gordon did that with everyone, but it somehow affected Virgil the most potently. Lucy, Jeff, and the other boys had little tolerance for Gordon’s annoying antics, but the fact that Virgil usually had an abundance of patience was exactly why Gordon got under his skin so much. With Virgil, Gordon would keep on pushing, keep needling, insistently nagging until that patience wore thin and caused Virgil to react in frustration. As a result, Lucy had noticed Virgil tending to avoid spending too much time with Gordon. But today she needed to pair them up together. Grandma would be by any minute to pick up Scott, as she was helping him log extra flying hours towards his pilot license while Jeff was away for work. John had already left for the library where they had been running a special summer program in the AV centre focussing on early space exploration because today was the last day he’d be able to see it. “Aw, Mom!” Virgil whined. “If he comes, I won’t get any drawing done.” “Yeah, Mom,” Gordon joined in, wrinkling his nose, “can’t I stay with you?” “Nope!” Lucy ruffled Gordon’s unruly blond locks. “I have errands to run today.” Gordon groaned. He hated being dragged all over town when his mom was running errands, mostly because the entire day was usually spent listening to her tell him he couldn’t run off too far or do anything fun – getting up to mischief, she called it. Lucy knew her day would be difficult enough with a toddler in tow without adding a hyperactive six-and-a-half-year-old to the mix. For a moment, she felt for Virgil. In a way, he had a point. He’d have to keep Gordon occupied, which would take his focus away from his artistic endeavours, but she had faith that the two of them would find a way to make it work. She stood between the two boys and, with a hand on a shoulder of each, pulled them into a hug. “You two go out and have fun.” She placed a kiss on first Virgil’s and then Gordon’s forehead. “Be good, look after each other, and don’t get into any trouble!” She ushered them through the door and watched them head out, turning back to wave goodbye to her from the front gate before continuing westward towards the top track. She would always worry about her boys out there on their own, but they all knew the rules and had repeatedly been warned of the various dangers contained within their little patch of wilderness. Virgil was not inclined to be reckless or break the rules, but the lure of an interesting view could distract him at times. Looking after a younger brother would help keep his attention more focused. It was one of Lucy’s secret weapons. Pairing a big brother with a little one always seemed to make the big brother more inclined to obey the rules and watch for dangers.

The two boys made quick progress across the open paddock towards the trees, Virgil striding out confidently, Gordon occasionally having to run for a few steps to catch up. Once they reached the track that wound its way through the trees, the pace began to slow. Virgil’s gaze wandered as he walked, noticing in great detail the colours of the foliage and tree bark, the stark contrasts formed by shafts of sunlight filtering between the trees and highlighting this branch or those leaves. He would hear the cry of a bird and look up, searching the treetops to see if he could catch sight of the culprit. Despite the distractions, however, Virgil didn’t stop walking. He had a destination in mind, and he was keen to get there so he could start drawing. Gordon found distractions of his own along the track. He’d hear skittering noises in the dirt and leaf litter beside the track and stop to see if he could spot the creature that had scuttled away. He found spiderwebs woven between the trees and bushes, and noted with interest whether or not the spider was home and if they’d caught anything. He, too, would search the trees and sky for birds that called out their various songs. Unlike Virgil, Gordon stopped often and would have to run to catch up to his bigger brother, usually after Virgil called out to him to hurry up. After falling behind for the fourth time, Gordon decided to run ahead along the track a bit. That way Virgil would have to catch up to him! He stopped short when he came to the fork in the track. An idea struck him, and he jogged back to his brother. “Hey, Virgil?” He had a glint in his eye that the older boy knew well enough to be worried about. “We should go down to the lake!” “No.” “Oh, come on! Why not?” His voice was verging on whiny and his expression close to a pout. “We’re not supposed to go to the lake on our own, it’s –” “We’re not on our own, we have each other!” Gordon didn’t want to give Virgil a chance to argue or talk about possible dangers. “We’re not gonna do anything dangerous or anything. It’s nice by the lake. Besides, you said your pencils were watercolours. Shouldn’t you draw something with water?” “That’s not . . . Uugghh!” Virgil sighed, rolled his eyes, and rubbed a hand through his hair. He knew steering this particular brother away from water was going to be a hard sell, and if he was honest with himself, his little brother was right about the lake being a good place to draw. It would give him an opportunity to practice drawing reflections, which was something he’d been wanting to experiment with. And the view across the lake was pretty spectacular. But swimming in the lake could be dangerous. If they went to the lake, Virgil knew his entire day would be spent watching Gordon in the water. Gordon studied the expression on his brother’s face for some sign of what he was thinking. He had that look of intense concentration he used when he was figuring out how to fix something. Virgil slowed to a stop and looked down at Gordon. “If we go to the lake –” As Virgil spoke, Gordon’s face broke out in a wide gap-toothed grin as he sensed he had won. “I said if! If we go to the lake, you have to promise me you won’t go for a swim. I came here to draw, not play lifeguard.” “Aww! Virge, it’s summer! It’s a great day for a swim.” His smile was gone, and he now had to trot alongside his brother as Virgil began walking again, setting a brisk pace. He was going to have to fight hard to get his way. “Pleeeeease!” No reaction. “What if I promise not to go in any deeper than up to here?” He indicated his waist. Virgil’s eyebrows drew down into somewhat of a scowl, but he slowed his walking pace again. “You have to stay dry above the knees,” he said. “Yes! Okay, I can do that.” Gordon’s big, infectious grin was back, and he literally bounced with happiness and excitement at his victory. “I promise I won’t go in past my knees, and I’ll be good so you can just do your drawings.” Virgil tried to keep his expression serious, but his little brother’s glee was so irresistible he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Pretty soon he was grinning too, and they headed down the left fork in the track towards the lake. As they descended the narrow trail, weaving between trees and larger rocks, the hard-packed dirt underfoot gradually giving way to sandy soil, Gordon’s excitement was barely containable. He ran ahead down the track, calling to Virgil to hurry, ran back to his brother urging him to walk quicker, tugging at his hand, gave up, and ran ahead again before he could even see Virgil roll his eyes. The whole process was then repeated. Twice. Soon enough the trees lining the track thinned out, allowing glimpses of dark blue water. The track curved, and suddenly they emerged from the trees onto an expanse of silty sand with the lake spread out before them, rippling and glistening in the sunlight. The dark greens of the trees on the far side of the lake separated dark blue water from pale blue sky on the horizon. Gordon ran straight to the water’s edge, while Virgil took a moment to take in the entire scene. The lake itself didn’t cover a particularly large area, but it was very deep in places. Virgil estimated that it was more than half a mile from side to side, north to south, and possibly as far as three hundred metres to the trees on the other side from where Gordon now stood. The hills to the north funnelled water down into the lake via a network of creeks and streams. The surface of the lake looked relatively calm, but it hid unpredictable undercurrents as the water worked its way to the small stream that trickled away from the natural dam at the lake’s southern tip. There were a few tiny islands dotted throughout the lake, most of them closer to the far side, some large enough to have trees growing on them, others no more than large rocks with their tops protruding from the water. A short walk along the water’s edge northward took Virgil past a small wooden pier with a little dinghy tied to it, gently rocking and bumping with the lazy motion of the water. Beyond that, the flat sand gave way to a series of rocky, sloped banks. Picking his way up over some of the lower rocks, Virgil climbed up onto a large, relatively flat boulder that afforded him a good view and room to set out all his materials. He could see the beach (as Gordon called it) and his brother discarding his shoes and socks so he could explore the shallows and the little boat attached to the pier, with the water stretching away before him. Once he had carefully unpacked his easel and sketchbook and placed his pencils beside him within easy reach, Virgil began to sketch out some rough outlines. It wasn’t long before Gordon popped his head up over the edge of Virgil’s rock platform.

“Is that all you’ve done so far?” he asked with curious disbelief. “You should use more colours.” “Gordon.” Virgil’s tone was a warning. “Okay, okay,” Gordon said, raising his hands, palms outwards. “I just wondered if it’s lunchtime yet. I’m hungry.” Virgil resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he looked at his younger brother, searching for any signs of mischief and finding none. He realised Gordon was probably right, it was time for lunch. Virgil had been too caught up in what he was doing to notice how long it had been since they’d eaten breakfast. “All right, let’s see what Mom packed for us to eat.” He dug the lunchbox and water bottles out of his backpack while Gordon climbed up onto the rock and sat cross-legged beside him. Neither boy was surprised to find their mom had provided each of them with their favourite sandwich toppings, and they ate hungrily. Gordon would have polished off all the snacks too, but Virgil prudently suggested they should save those for later. They washed the sandwiches down with a hearty helping of water, making sure to save some of that too. When their little picnic was done, Gordon started to scamper back down over the rocks. “You can go back to drawing now,” he delivered a parting shot with that cheeky grin, “I’m gonna go see if I can find any fish.” “Stay out of the water,” Virgil warned. “You just ate.” “Ugh! I’m not stupid, Virgil! And besides, I’m only going in up to my knees, remember!” “I remember. I’ve just gotta make sure you do!” Virgil watched as Gordon started to clamber down the rocks. “Stay where I can see you!” he called after him. “And be careful! The rocks can get slippery.” “I’ll be fine!” Gordon yelled back, and added under his breath, “Spoilsport.” “I heard that!” Virgil didn’t see Gordon poke his tongue out before he ran off along the sand to go and get his feet wet again. He stood in the shallow water, running his hands over the slimy reeds looking for little fish. He spent some time digging his toes into the sand to see what little creatures came darting out into the water as it clouded around his feet. Virgil’s focus was split between the landscape that was rapidly developing on the paper and keeping tabs on Gordon. Every little, excited exclamation had Virgil looking along the beach, wondering what his brother had found. But his attention was inevitably pulled back to his watercolour sketch. Coming out of the water for a while, Gordon picked his way along the sand, gathering a pocketful of stones before finding a spot to stand and skip them across the surface of the lake. He was pretty proud of the one he managed to get to skip eight times before it sank. The clicky slap of the first skipped stone had Virgil’s head turning to watch, making sure his brother was still keeping out of trouble. He wondered who had taught Gordon to skip stones and fondly remembered Scott showing him how it was done. Gordon was actually pretty good at it, and he kept at it for quite a while. After that, Gordon wandered closer to the trees looking for beetles and interesting insects. He even took one or two of them over to show Virgil. He did the same with some of the smooth pebbles he’d found, especially the ones that had pretty colours or unusual patterns. Virgil liked those ones, he could tell. And every time he returned to Virgil up on his rock, while he munched on a snack or took a drink of water, he took a peek at what his brother was drawing. There was one main drawing of the view across the lake that was more and more detailed every time Gordon saw it, but there were some other smaller sketches too. Gordon wasn’t sure if they were like little practice drawings for things that Virgil wanted to add to the main one or if they were something else. It looked like some of those extra sketches included him, some were of the treasures he’d brought to show his brother, and some he couldn’t quite decipher yet. The afternoon sun beat down on them, too high in the sky for any shadows long enough to provide decent shade. Virgil barely noticed, but Gordon felt the heat. He had climbed back down from Virgil’s perch and was now sitting on the end of the little boat dock dangling his feet in the water. He kicked his feet, splashing and watching new ripples form. The water was pleasantly cool against his legs, but his head and shoulders yearned for that same refreshing feeling. He looked out across the lake, longing to jump in and immerse himself in liquid heaven. He was regretting his promise. “Gordon,” Virgil called down to him, “stop splashing around so much. I don’t want you falling in.” In response, Gordon just sighed. A gull squawked nearby, and he watched it wing its way to a large rock protruding from the water, joining other gulls and ibises sunning themselves. It was the closest island to where he sat, and it didn’t look too far to swim to. It was so hot. It would just be a quick swim. “Hey, Virgil,” Gordon called out, twisting his body around to look up at his brother, “how far do you think it is to that big rock out there?” Virgil took a moment to stand up and stretch muscles that he hadn’t really moved in nearly two hours. He looked where Gordon pointed and couldn’t help doing a rough calculation in his head to estimate the distance, but he knew where this question was leading. “Too far,” he answered. “You’re not going to swim to it. No deeper than your knees, remember?” “But, Virge . . .” “No, Gordon! It’s dangerous. We don’t swim out that far when Mom and Dad bring us down here, I’m not letting you go out there alone.” “But I’m a good swimmer, and the water’s really flat and calm, and it’s so hot . . .” “I said no!” Virgil was almost shouting now. Why wasn’t Gordon listening to him? Couldn’t he see how bad an idea this was? “It’s gotta be at least eighty metres out to that rock, and you can’t see the currents at work under the surface or the reeds or the cold spots or how deep it is. It’s not like swimming in the pool in town.” “Eighty metres is easy! I already have my two-hundred-meter freestyle achievement certificate. I’ll be out there and back in no time.” As he spoke, Gordon started removing his T-shirt. “Gordon, don’t!” Virgil’s heart was hammering at his rib cage like it was trying to break free, and he started making his way down the rocks towards the boat dock, knowing he wasn’t going to be quick enough. “Bet I’ll do it in the fastest time ever. Time me, Virgil.” And with a flash of a wicked grin, he turned and dived into the water. Virgil ran across the sand and onto the wooden dock, heart still pounding fit to burst as Gordon swam away. All he could do was stand there and watch. As scared as he was, he couldn’t help being a little bit in awe of his little brother. Even though he was little, he was a good swimmer. From his very first swimming lesson two years ago, he had been very much at home in the water. He learned fast and seemed to have the knack of skimming the surface of the water when he swam – unlike Virgil, who always felt like he was fighting the water, trying to stop it from pulling him down. He didn’t mind admitting that Gordon was a better swimmer than he was, but the little fish had no experience with open water – or getting out of trouble on his own. It wasn’t long before Gordon was halfway to the rock island, and everything seemed to be going fine. Virgil even managed to start to relax a bit. It seemed like he was going to make it out there just fine. His pace had slowed a little, but that was to be expected. Then suddenly something wasn’t right. Gordon had slowed right down, almost to a complete stop, his legs no longer breaking the surface with his kicks. He rolled onto his back and made a couple of awkward backstrokes, then he went under. Just for a millisecond. But it was enough to have Virgil scrambling to get into the dinghy. Gordon tried to shout, but the effort seemed to cause his head to bob under again. Virgil rowed as fast as he could, his head twisted to look over his shoulder, not wanting to take his eyes off his little brother, praying each time he went under that he’d see blond hair break the surface again. Swear words repeated over and over like a mantra with every stroke of the oars. Strong, long strokes propelled the little wooden boat through the water. He fought back panic. He would get there in time. He had to get there in time. He had to save his brother. Gordon seemed to be losing the battle to stay afloat, arms flailing, panicking, bobbing and spluttering. He knew Virgil was trying to get to him, and he was desperate to keep his head above water until he got there, but kicking was difficult and painful. His left leg was not obeying. He’d never experienced a cramp like this before. Virgil finally reached the spot where Gordon had just gone under again. Leaning over the side of the boat, mindful of leaning too far and capsizing, he grabbed a flailing arm with one hand and reached the other into the water to grab a handful of blond hair. He ignored the shock of the cold mere inches below the surface and hauled his brother up far enough for him to gasp for air. He adjusted his grip and dragged Gordon into the boat, where he lay coughing and spluttering, shivering and absolutely terrified. Virgil sat, boat rocking beneath them, breathing hard and equally terrified, watching his brother, grateful for the coughing because at least he knew he was still breathing. “You okay?” Virgil panted out once the coughing had died down a little. “Cramp!” Gordon gasped out in reply, indicating his left leg. “Calf muscle? Here?” Virgil was kneeling with Gordon’s left foot resting on his thigh, fingers gently kneading into his calf. Gordon responded with a nod and a little groan of pain. Virgil spent a few minutes massaging the cramped muscle. He wasn’t sure if Gordon’s tears were from the pain in his leg or fear or relief, but he suddenly felt like he’d do anything to stop them. All he could offer were words of reassurance. Words that comforted both of them. “It’s okay, Gords. You’re okay. You’re safe now.” Virgil’s fingers worked methodically, gently, gradually relaxing the muscle, relieving Gordon’s agony, and calming both of them down in the process. Gordon was soon wriggling his leg free of Virgil’s grasp to sit up on the floor of the little rowboat. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs, still shivering. “Hold on, Gordon.” Virgil shifted himself back onto the seat and took up the oars. “Let’s get you back to shore and then we can warm you up.” Rowing back to the wooden dock seemed to take so much longer than it had to row out into the lake. Virgil wasn’t sure if this was because there were currents working against him or if he was just a great deal more tired now. Or maybe it was the lack of terrifying urgency driving his actions on the return trip. Either way, he was grateful to make it safely to the dock and get the boat secured. Gordon was adamant he could get out of the boat on his own, but Virgil’s assistance was accepted readily when he found himself unsteady on his feet. Virgil retrieved the T-shirt Gordon had so hastily tossed aside earlier and draped it over his little brother’s back. It didn’t take much convincing for Gordon to remain sitting on the dock in the same knees-huddled-to-chest position he’d adopted in the boat while Virgil raced up to his rock platform to retrieve all his gear. He also made a quick dash across the sand to find Gordon’s discarded shoes before returning. He didn’t like how quiet and still the normally boisterous boy was. The paleness of his skin and the fact he was still shivering – or perhaps trembling – worried him even more. The now damp T-shirt had been pulled on over his head but offered little in the way of warmth. “Hey, Gordon. Arms up,” Virgil instructed, holding his own hoodie ready to slip over the blond head. Gordon did as he was told without comment or complaint, seeming to Virgil a little like some sort of robotic puppet. The hoodie was way too big, but it was soft and thick and most importantly dry. With head and arms now inserted into their correct holes, Virgil knelt in front of Gordon and pulled the hoodie down over his entire tucked-up body. Not even his feet protruded from beneath the hem. He then wrapped his arms around the whole bundle of little brother and rubbed vigorously to generate some heat. “Virgil?” Glossy brown eyes peeked out from beneath the sweater’s hood. The voice was quiet and had a quality to it that felt somehow small and uncertain. “I’m sorry.” The look in his brother’s eyes, more than the words, stung Virgil somewhere deep inside. “What?” Virgil answered. “What for?” “I didn’t listen. You told me not to and I . . .” “That doesn’t matter now.” Virgil’s arms tightened ever so slightly around him, and Gordon rested his head against his big brother’s shoulder. “All I care about right now is making sure you’re okay.” For a moment, the two boys stayed locked in the embrace, Gordon letting the feeling of safety envelop him, Virgil feeling the rise and fall of Gordon’s chest with every breath. He was relieved to find his brother relaxing into an even, steady pattern of deep breaths. There was no sign of any wheezing, and the coughs and splutters seemed long gone. “Come on. Let’s get you home,” Virgil said softly, giving Gordon’s back one final rub before releasing the hug. He slipped his backpack straps over his shoulders, held his hands out for Gordon to take so he could help him onto his feet, then lifted him up into a reverse piggyback hold. Gordon’s arms looped around his neck, and his legs wrapped around his waist without hesitation or protest, and Virgil set off for home at a slow but steady pace. The gentle but constant incline of the path back to the top track gave Virgil quite a workout with the additional weight he carried, but he took it in his stride. Gordon remained so still and quiet, hooded head resting against his left shoulder, Virgil thought he might have fallen asleep. He tried not to jostle his bundle of brother too much as he picked his way up the hill. When he reached the relative flat ground where the lake path rejoined the top track, Virgil took a moment to catch his breath, and Gordon stirred. “Hey, Virgil?” he said quietly. “When we get home . . . we don’t have to tell anyone what happened, do we?” “Gordon, we have to tell Mom. You nearly drowned!” Gordon caught his brother’s gaze and for the first time saw there was fear in those deep brown eyes. It made something in his insides feel fluttery. “But I’m okay,” he pleaded. “You saved me.” “I pulled you out of the water, but . . .” Virgil wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence and sighed. “If you got any water in your lungs, that would be bad. I’m not sure exactly how it works, but sometimes it can make a person have trouble breathing hours after they’ve been rescued from drowning.” “Oh.” The initial response was almost whispered, then Gordon’s features and tone brightened. “But –” “Did you swallow any water?” Virgil cut him off. “Because the water in the lake could make you sick if you did.” Gordon’s brow creased. “No. I don’t think so. Maybe?” Virgil sighed once more, then began walking again. “I don’t want to scare you, Gords, but what happened out there was a big deal.” “I know,” Gordon whimpered, and held on to Virgil a little tighter. “But I’m not scared now. I’m safe. I was afraid. In the water, when I thought . . . when I couldn’t . . . It was scary, but now I’m not scared because you’re here and you saved me.” Virgil remained silent. “Would it be less scary for you if you stay with me until you know I’m not going to get sick or stop breathing?” Gordon whispered. The rhythm of Virgil’s footfalls faltered for a step or two. “I promise I won’t leave your sight until you’re sure I’m okay. Then we don’t have to tell Mom unless I get sick. Okay?” For a moment, Virgil couldn’t say anything. The lump in his throat was too much of an obstacle. He blinked a few times to clear his swimming vision, huffed out a ragged sigh, and hitched his brother a little higher on his hips. “Okay, Little Fish. You got a deal. I won’t tell Mom, and you and I stick together like glue for tonight.” Not long after their deal was struck Virgil’s steady paces brought them out of the trees and into the paddock, with home in sight. It seemed they had beaten Lucy home, as her car wasn’t parked in its usual spot, but John’s bike was neatly leaned on its stand next to the others, and Virgil suspected Scott was already home too.

He was relieved to finally climb the stairs and deposit Gordon gently on his feet on the front porch. Slipping off his backpack and rolling his shoulders to ease tired muscles, Virgil followed his younger brother through the front door and into the kitchen. He might have known Gordon would gravitate towards food. At least this was a good sign – if Gordon was hungry, then he probably wasn’t feeling any ill effects from swallowing lake water. “Oh, look. It finally happened,” Scott said with a smirk and an elbow to John’s ribs. “One of Virgil’s hoodies grew legs and walked away.” “Ha-ha,” Gordon replied as he grabbed the jug of juice from the fridge. “Seriously, Gordon,” John spoke up from his seat at the kitchen table, where he and Scott had been finishing their afternoon snacks, “what’s with the hoodie? It’s gotta be ninety-six degrees outside.” “He just wanted to prove me wrong,” Virgil chimed in, walking straight to the cupboard and grabbing a couple of glasses. “I told him he would disappear completely inside one of my hoodies.” He noted the suspicious looks but ignored them as he poured juice for himself and Gordon. “How was the space thing at the library?” As John began eagerly explaining in great detail the highlights of the interactive exhibition, Virgil met Scott’s expression of curiosity with his best nothing-to-see-here shrug. He knew the innocent look he tried to project wouldn’t be enough to prevent Scott from seeing straight through the change of subject. Scott’s sapphire-blue eyes had the ability to cut like diamonds, and right at that moment Virgil felt the full weight of their scrutiny. He tried to give a reassuring smile and turn his attention to John’s increasingly fast-paced account of the space exhibit. “Actually, that sounds pretty cool,” Gordon said with an air of surprise and a warm smile at the conclusion of John’s animated description. He drained the dregs of his glass of juice and turned to Virgil. “I’m gonna go upstairs and change clothes.” “I’ll be up in a minute,” Virgil replied. Gordon left the room at a trot and bounded up the stairs. Scott and John were both back to studying Virgil intently. “What?” “Why’s Gordon so attached to you all of a sudden?” Scott asked. “He’s practically asking you for permission to leave the room.” Virgil’s gaze flicked between the blue and the turquoise, and he resisted the urge to squirm. “I don’t know. I guess we just had kind of a good day.” It was the only thing Virgil could think of to say. “You two spent the whole day together and you’re not sick of the sight of each other?” It was John’s turn to question the lack of frustrated bickering that would normally have surfaced between them. Virgil just shrugged, finished his own glass of juice, and picked up his backpack. “I’m gonna go put this stuff away.” He left the room, deliberately not hurrying but desperate to escape from the interrogation he felt was coming. As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, Gordon’s bedroom door opened. He was wearing his clownfish pyjamas, and Virgil couldn’t help but grin. “Virgil?” Gordon packed so much uncertainty into just his name Virgil was a little concerned at what might be coming. “Do you think maybe . . . I mean could we, maybe . . . Do you wanna build a blanket fort with me?” “Actually, I think that’s a pretty great idea.” When Lucy arrived home, wrangling a grizzly Alan who had missed his afternoon nap, and exhausted from a rather frustrating day full of unnecessary delays at every stop, she found Scott and John in the kitchen getting dinner started. Neither had seen the other two boys in a while, so she settled Alan in the living room with his favourite cartoon and headed upstairs to investigate. She found them in Gordon’s and Alan’s room. At least, she found evidence that this was where they had been for some time. Half of the room was obscured by a complex construction created out of pillows, blankets, and assorted bed linen supported by various pieces of furniture and some rather ingeniously rigged clothesline string. “Well, look at you two in here together, thick as thieves!” Lucy said as her head emerged from between two blankets that served as the entrance. “Hi, Mom! We’re building a blanket fort!” Gordon explained excitedly. Virgil rolled his eyes. “She can see that, doofus.” “And it is quite an impressive feat of engineering.” She winked and smiled. “What did you boys get up to on your walk today? Lots of exciting adventures, no doubt.” A look passed between the two. “Nothing,” Gordon blurted out, just as Virgil spoke. “Not much.” Virgil added a shrug and a somewhat apologetic expression. “Just . . . boy stuff.” “Yeah, Mom. Boy stuff,” Gordon repeated emphatically. “We can’t tell you because you’re a girl.” Lucy’s head tilted slightly, an eyebrow raised, and the corners of her mouth and eyes began a slow upward quirk into a smile. She wondered what they were up to, but she was happy the two of them were getting along well. “Hmm. Does this boy stuff include any drawings I’m allowed to see?” If they wouldn’t tell her where they’d been, perhaps she could discern something from Virgil’s sketches. “Can I show you later? Tomorrow maybe?” Virgil squirmed a little under the inquisitive gaze of those soft, honey-coloured eyes. Usually he loved sharing his artworks with Mom. She always praised the bits she thought he’d done well and knew exactly how to suggest little improvements without making it seem like he’d made mistakes. Sometimes it felt like she saw more in his drawings than what he’d put in them. “Okay,” she said, changing tack. “Are you two coming out of there to join the rest of us for dinner?” Another look between the brothers. The plot thickening before her eyes. “Can we come back in here after dinner?” Gordon asked. “Could we, maybe, both sleep in here for tonight?” Virgil followed up quickly. Lucy studied the faces of her two brown-eyed boys. These two were not regular partners in shenanigans. There was something going on here that she was not quite sure she understood just yet, but there didn’t seem to be any harm in what they were asking. “I don’t see why not,” she answered, and was rewarded with two beaming smiles. “Go wash up and you can set the table while I help your brothers finish up in the kitchen.” Dinner for the most part was about as chaotic as usual. Alan was still irritable and played with more of his food than he ate, making a mess of himself and the table in front of him in the process. Scott and John both gave lengthy answers to their mom’s enquiries about how they had spent the day. There were all the usual arguments over who would get the last helpings of this or that as plates and dishes were rapidly emptied, their contents hungrily devoured. Virgil and Gordon managed to talk about the more innocent parts of their day, clinging to descriptions of what plants were flowering, the types of birds they saw, the spiders and beetles and butterflies, rather than any specific mention of the lake. As the scrape of knives and forks on plates finally died down, Lucy began clearing serving dishes off the table. “How about tomorrow we all have a day at the pool?” Standing behind her water-baby as she spoke, she gave his hair a ruffle. John and Scott were both quick to answer with excited affirmatives, Alan enthusiastically exclaimed “Swim!”, but she didn’t see the panicked look that flashed across Gordon’s face as he looked across the table at Virgil. “That sounds great, Mom,” was Virgil’s reply as he kept his eyes firmly on Gordon, trying to relay a sense of calm reassurance that he didn’t really feel. If anyone noticed Gordon’s lack of enthusiasm at the suggestion, no one made mention of it. Perhaps his reaction was lost in the flurry of activity as the table was cleared and Alan was escorted upstairs for his bath. Virgil did notice an odd expression cross Scott’s face as he watched Gordon begin loading dirty cutlery into the dishwasher, but he said nothing before leaving the kitchen. John and Scott had helped cook dinner, so Virgil and Gordon were left to load the dishwasher and tidy the kitchen. “Gordon?” Virgil caught his little brother’s attention with a gentle flick of a tea towel, and a sullen expression was his reply. “Don’t you want to go to the pool tomorrow?” Gordon shrugged. Virgil kept his voice low, not wanting anyone to hear the conversation. “You always get excited about going to the pool. You’ve been begging Mom to take us every day for the entire summer. People will ask questions if you suddenly don’t want to go.” The look in Gordon’s eyes was a complicated mixture of fear, sadness, and uncertainty that had Virgil once again wanting to do anything he could to take away the pain. He was about to say something more when he heard John’s voice carry through from the living room and thought better of it. The discussion wasn’t over, but it would have to wait. The rest of their kitchen duty was completed in awkward silence. Chores done, they headed upstairs, back to their blanket fort. They had barely begun to settle into the pile of pillows and cushions when a small hand, followed by a headful of slightly damp blond hair, poked through from beneath a blanket wall. Bright blue eyes sparkled as a giggle escaped through a cheeky grin. “Peek-a-boo!” Alan exclaimed and wriggled his way into the enclosure. “Alan!?” Lucy parted the fort’s entrance with her arms so the blankets draped like a stage curtain. As her eyes came to rest on her littlest, a wave of relief was reflected in her fond smile.  “Say good night to your brothers and I’ll read you a story.” Liberal good-night cuddles were dished out to both big brothers before Lucy ushered Alan out so she could bundle him into bed. “You two – shower or bath, teeth brushing – go!” she instructed. By the time Virgil and Gordon had washed and brushed and were attired for bed (again in Gordon’s case), Alan was asleep, the bedroom was illuminated only by Alan’s star projecting night light, and their mom was holding her finger up to her lips. “Shh. Try not to wake your little brother,” she whispered. She gave each of them a hug and a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t stay up all night!” Virgil and Gordon were soon alone and comfortably secure in their plush fortress. Their flashlights had been propped between pillows and furniture so they provided a soft glow amid the cosy gloom. “Talk to me, Fish,” Virgil said softly. “You’ve been so quiet since dinner. Are you feeling okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” Gordon’s slumped posture added to Virgil’s impression that his brother looked pretty miserable. “It’s just . . .” A huge sigh escaped his tiny frame. “You’re worried about tomorrow?” Virgil finished for him. “Do you think I could tell Mom I have to do some reading for school or something?” Virgil’s eyes widened and his heart dropped into his stomach. His little brother might not be physically sick or injured, but he was not okay. “You know that’s not gonna work, Gordon. You’ve been pestering her all summer to take you to the pool. If you suddenly don’t want to go, she’s going to be super suspicious. And nobody will believe that you would ditch the pool in favour of schoolwork. Especially in summer!” “I know.” Another sigh. A long silence. “It’s just, when Mom said we’d all go to the pool tomorrow I . . . Normally I’d be really excited, but this time I kind of got scared.” “What are you scared of?” Gordon thought Virgil’s question was a pretty stupid one considering what had happened at the lake, and his scowling glare communicated as much. “I mean, what exactly scares you about going to the pool? Are you afraid you might get into trouble like you did in the lake?” Gordon’s expression turned more quizzical as he considered what Virgil was trying to say. “Because the pool is going to be very different from the lake. The water is clear. You can always see the bottom. The temperature is controlled and kept fairly warm. There’s a lifeguard on duty all the time keeping everyone safe, and we’ll all be there with you. You won’t be on your own, far from shore.” “I guess.” “Gordon, you love the water. You always have, even when you were tiny. You’re always happiest when you’re in the water – even if it’s just the bath or splashing in puddles.” “Not anymore.” “You have to get back on the horse,” Virgil said absently, almost to himself. “What? What horse? What does that have to do with the pool?” “It’s a figure of speech. Something Grandpa says. If you fall off the horse, you’ve gotta get right back on. You can’t let one bad experience make you scared forever, and the sooner you get back up on the horse after falling, the easier it is to ride again.” Gordon looked uncertain. “So, you’re saying that I have to go to the pool tomorrow and get back in the water or else I might be scared of swimming forever?” “I’m saying you have to go to the pool tomorrow because swimming makes you happy. You’re good at it, and you can’t let today stop you from doing something that makes you light up like Fourth of July fireworks and grin like the Cheshire Cat.” There was another long silence. Gordon scooted a little closer to his big brother and rested his head against Virgil’s shoulder. “Will you stay with me tomorrow? At the pool?” Virgil wriggled his arm under his brother and tugged him closer. “For as long as you need me to,” he affirmed. “We’ll start off in the shallow end. Mess around for a while, just getting wet, splashing about. Pretty soon you’ll be swimming like a fish and I won’t be able to keep up. But I promise I’ll stay close and watch out for you, okay?” “Okay.” Despite how tired he sounded, there was a brightness to Gordon’s voice that caused a wave of relief to sweep over Virgil. The day’s exploits had exhausted the two boys. Their little nest was cosy and warm, and the close contact between them helped relax them both as they quickly drifted off to sleep. But Virgil’s usually sound sleep was disturbed by unpleasant dreams. Twice he woke suddenly, heart pounding and breathing hard, certain that something terrible had happened and with an unshakable need to check on Gordon, only to find him safely asleep beside him. He lay awake after each nightmare, watching the even rise and fall of his brother’s chest, noticing every little twitch and murmur made as he slept. He had a feeling it would be a while before he could completely shake these nightmares, but it was comforting to think that Gordon had been spared the same kind of disruption through the night.

*** Morning dawned bright and warm, and despite the duvet cover preventing much sunlight penetrating the sanctuary of the fort, Gordon was awake with the dawn chorus. He tried to let his brother sleep, happy to listen to the soft snores and try not to giggle, but he quickly became impatient. Virgil woke to gentle but insistent poking to the ribs and the repeated whispering of his name. When he peeled his eyes open, he was greeted with brown eyes mere inches in front of his own and a beaming smile. “We’re going to the pool today, Virgil,” Gordon whispered with a hint of excitement. “You have to get up.” “Okay, okay,” Virgil managed to somewhat grunt as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. Then he registered the expression on his little brother’s face, the gleam in the eyes and the fact that the smile still hadn’t faltered, and a smile of his own spread from the depths of his heart and across his face. The mixture of nerves and eagerness thrumming through Gordon all morning was enough to give the rest of the family the impression he was full of barely contained excitement fitting for the day of a visit to the pool. He repeatedly asked when they would be leaving and was repeatedly told they would head out after lunch. He offered to pack everyone’s towels and Alan’s floaties into a bag ready for later, and he fidgeted and bounced his way through to lunchtime. After lunch, as promised, Lucy piled all the boys into the family car and drove them to the public pool. She paid their admission, and they all tumbled through the turnstile. As usual, Scott, who had never grown out of wanting to go everywhere at top speed, and Gordon raced away to find them a spot on the grass where bags and towels could be unceremoniously dumped before they hit the water. By the time Virgil and John joined them, T-shirts had already been discarded and comments about the fate of the last person into the water were being bandied about. When Lucy was finally able to set down her load of Alan and the bagful of necessities required for their day out, her four oldest boys were already racing towards the Olympic-sized pool. Scott first, John not far behind, and Gordon practically dragging Virgil by the hand.

Lucy kept an eye on her boys happily splashing about with each other in the shallow end of the pool while she got herself and Alan stripped down to their bathing suits and slid Alan’s floaties on over his head and arms. They had started a game of Chicken Fight by the time she slid herself into the water and lifted Alan down into her arms. John, sitting on Scott’s shoulders and Gordon atop Virgil’s, were locked in grappling combat. Scott and John had the advantage of both height and reach, and it was not long before Gordon toppled into the water. A rematch produced the same result in short order, and Gordon exacted revenge by distracting Scott with an underwater pantsing, causing him to break his hold on John, who overbalanced and slid from Scott’s shoulders into the pool. Lucy and Alan laughed along with the others as Scott protested foul play. Handstand competitions and a game of Freeze Tag followed. Lucy took Alan to the toddler pool where he could splash about more freely, instructing the older boys to behave and try not to bother other pool users too much while she was gone. Virgil was pleased to see that, just as he’d predicted, Gordon was happily swimming rings around them all as they played. He’d stuck close to Virgil at first, but after the Chicken Fights, he was swimming farther and faster in his efforts to escape being tagged and spending longer underwater with every passing minute. It seemed he had slipped right back into his home environment without any lasting dramas. As the afternoon shadows grew long, one by one Lucy’s boys returned to their spot on the grass. She and Alan had grown tired of the water first, and Alan had even had a short sleep amongst the pile of towels as they waited for the others to tire themselves out. Scott was first of the older boys to tire of swimming and return to towel off and dress in dry clothes, with John quick to follow. Lucy was a little surprised at how long Virgil lasted in the water until she spotted him sitting on the edge of the pool with just his feet and lower legs in the water watching Gordon as he shot back and forth across the free-play area, dodging strangers. She gave a shrill two-finger whistle. Virgil, recognising the signal, turned his head to look back at her, and she beckoned with her hand to indicate it was time to go. It seemed to take a while to convince Gordon to get out of the pool, but Lucy was not surprised. The car ride home was a fairly quiet one, the boys having spent a great deal of energy over the course of the afternoon. They brightened at the suggestion of ordering pizza for dinner when they got home, and there was a brief buzz of conversation when she mentioned their father would be home by the weekend. He had only been away for two weeks, but the older boys had never really grown out of getting excited by his return. This latest trip wasn’t as far away as Mars or even the moon, but the prospect of having Dad home again still triggered that same feeling of welcoming someone who had been long absent. He may not visit space for work any longer, and his absences could be measured in days instead of months or years, but it was always great to have him home again. “He already has big plans for this year’s Last Day of Summer,” Lucy mentioned with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “It’s only ten days away now!” While Scott and John speculated on what their dad might have in store for the annual family day at the lake on the last weekend before they went back to school, Virgil felt a small hand slip inside his and squeeze. He looked to his left at Gordon staring silently out the car window and gave a slight hand squeeze of his own in reply. While today had helped, it was obvious his little brother was still harbouring some fear of returning to the lake. There was no chance for Virgil to talk one-on-one with Gordon when they got home from the pool. As was fairly normal in the Tracy household, there always seemed to be someone else around or something that needed doing, and before he knew it, Gordon was already tucked in bed and reading a bedtime story with Mom. Virgil took a little longer than normal in the shower, needing the time alone with his thoughts. If Gordon acted anything less than excited about going to the lake for Last Day of Summer, it wouldn’t be long before their little secret would come to light. He had to find a way to get Gordon’s confidence back, but he was starting to wonder if he could manage on his own. With something like this, he would normally talk things out with Scott. It felt wrong to be hiding something from him and even more wrong to be hiding things from Mom. He was beginning to wonder whether he should just let the cat out of the bag and tell the truth, but he really didn’t want to let his little brother down either. Unable to face revealing how close he’d come to letting his brother drown, Virgil ended up avoiding any chance of conversation for the evening and shut himself away in his room until it was time for bed. John was in and out of the shared bedroom as he began preparing to turn in for the night, but it was not unusual for the two of them to quietly do their own thing without really exchanging words. When Lucy popped her head inside the door to check on her two quietest boys and say good night, Virgil tried his best to act like everything was normal. Her gaze fell heavily on him for a moment, and he had to fight the urge to tell her everything about the day at the lake and ask her advice. “Don’t stay up too late, boys,” she playfully warned them. “Lights out by 9:30 please, Virgil, and John, no more stargazing after lights out!” “Okay, Mom,” they both answered automatically and in chorus. “Good night.” It took a while for Virgil to fall asleep that night, mind whirling with the thought of his little brother being afraid of something that had always been a source of such joy. There had to be a way to fix it – every problem had a solution, you just had to find it, that’s what Dad would say. As tired as he was, his mind kept trying to focus on finding that solution before drifting away into a sleepy fog. Gordon didn’t know exactly what time it was, but he knew it was very late. The house was quiet. The room wasn’t dark – Alan’s night-light saw to that – but he couldn’t hear any voices, any indication of anyone moving around downstairs or in the bathrooms and bedrooms. Everyone must be asleep. He had startled awake, sitting bolt upright, breathless, heart pounding, eyes prickling with oncoming tears and really wishing he wasn’t so alone. He’d been dreaming about the lake, and now he didn’t want to go back to sleep. Slipping silently from his bed, he tiptoed across the floor, careful not to disturb Alan, and crept out into the hall. He hesitated for a moment. Normally he would head for his parents’ room, but Mom would ask what the dream was about, and he didn’t want to tell her about swimming in the lake. He didn’t want to get in trouble – or get Virgil into trouble. Gordon changed direction and headed for Virgil’s and John’s room. Being very careful to open the door without a sound and close it just as silently behind him, Gordon stood in the pitch-dark bedroom for a moment and let his eyes adjust. He couldn’t understand why his bigger brothers liked it so dark, he found it a bit creepy, but he couldn’t turn on the light and risk waking John. It wasn’t long before he could make out the shape of Virgil’s bed amongst the gloom, and he stealthily padded across the carpet to stand beside his sleeping brother. Now that he was here, he wasn’t really sure how to wake him or whether he should. He stood twisting the fingers of both hands around each other, close to tears again. “Virgil?” he whispered, barely above a breath. No response. “Virge?” This time a little louder, a little more desperate, a little more whiney and accompanied by a sniff. He tried tapping Virgil’s shoulder a few times, but his brother didn’t budge from where he lay curled on his side, facing the wall. In the end, not knowing what else to do, Gordon climbed across the bottom of the bed and squeezed his way past Virgil’s knees, wriggled himself under the covers and Virgil’s arm, and curled himself into the space between his brother and the wall. It was around three a.m. when Virgil woke to find he wasn’t alone in the bed. He didn’t know how or when Gordon had come to be there, but he could hear him softly whimpering and feel him shaking with the occasional sob. “Gordon,” he whispered softly, “are you okay?” He tugged his brother a little tighter to him, feeling him struggle to get the sobbing under control and even out his breathing. “Had a bad dream,” came the ever-so-quiet response. Virgil eased his grip and shuffled over on the bed, allowing Gordon to roll over and face him, but he kept his hand resting against his brother’s back. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and the quiet darkness seemed both comforting and ominous at the same time. Gordon heaved a deep breath in and let it out in a sigh before breaking the silence. He kept his voice low, but once he started, the words tumbled out in a torrent. “I can’t go back to the lake for Last Day of Summer, Virgil. I don’t want to go back in the water and everyone will know that’s not normal and want to know why and I don’t want them to know what I did and –” “Shh,” Virgil soothed, rubbing Gordon’s back as he spoke. “We’ll work something out together. I promise.” “You mean so we don’t have to go?” “No, I mean so you won’t be afraid anymore. We have to go. It’s tradition. And I think we both have to go back to the lake and confront our fears.” “You’re scared too? Wait, what are you scared of?” It was Virgil’s turn to let out a sigh. “Gordon, as annoying as you sometimes are, you are my little brother, and if anything happened to you – anything really bad, I mean – I’d be . . .” Another sigh. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. And I guess I’m scared of what might have happened. I keep having bad dreams where I couldn’t save you.” Gordon was suddenly wrapped around him like an octopus, his skinny little arms squeezing tight around Virgil like he was never going to let go and legs twining their way between bedding and body to latch on too. Despite feeling a little bit trapped within the many-limbed embrace, Virgil felt oddly comforted by it. “You don’t have to hold so tight, little octopus. I’m not going anywhere,” Virgil whispered into blond hair. “I’m not an octopus,” came the muffled reply, buried somewhere in Virgil’s neck, “I’m a squid.” “Okay then, Squid. How about we try and get some sleep and work this out tomorrow?” Gordon’s hold on his brother relaxed enough for them both to get a little more comfortable in the bed, but it was clear he wasn’t letting go. Virgil managed to get one arm disentangled enough to trace his hand back and forth across Gordon’s back, helping to lull him to sleep. Slumber quickly claimed the older brother soon after.

*** Morning crept up on them, dawning overcast and gloomy, despite being summer warm. As a result, Gordon slept later than he normally would and was woken by John’s quiet movements as he rolled out of the bed on the other side of the room and shuffled towards the bathroom. If John noticed the interloper in Virgil’s bed, he didn’t say anything, so Gordon took the opportunity to unceremoniously climb over his brother and hightail it back to his own room. Virgil woke with a start after yet another nightmare. Sitting up and trying to reacquaint himself with reality, he realised Gordon was no longer with him, and his heart rate ratcheted up a few more notches in brief panic. Catching sight of the clock and taking a few slow, deep breaths, Virgil managed to convince himself that everything was fine, Gordon had obviously just woken up earlier and was more than likely perfectly okay. But he needed to check. He tumbled out of bed and, after a brief detour to the bathroom, stumbled his way down the corridor in search of Gordon. Finding the tiny two’s bedroom deserted, he headed downstairs and found his target in the living room. Virgil stood in the doorway watching Gordon playing with Alan for a few minutes. Seeing his goofball brother being his normal, animated self and hearing the shrieks and giggles his antics prompted from Alan were enough to reassure him that yes, Gordon was just fine. Sometime after Virgil had found himself some breakfast and begun to consider himself properly awake, John found him sitting at the piano, absently staring out the window. John didn’t recall hearing Virgil play any practice exercises, and Virgil’s brow was furrowed in deep concentration, so John concluded that he was there more for the familiarity than the urge to play music. He did this sometimes – sat there just thinking, wheels turning, gears shifting, working something out in his head – and John always found it interesting to watch the thought process play out through Virgil’s expressions. But the expression wasn’t changing. “Virgil?” John prompted with some concern. “You okay?” With a jolt, Virgil tore his eyes away from the view he wasn’t really seeing out the window and focussed them on John. “Yeah.” Virgil sighed. “I just have something I need to do, something that needs fixing, and I don’t know how to do it.” “Look it up,” John answered with a shrug. “That’s what I’d do. There’s probably a book about it somewhere or a repair manual or instructional video. If I want to know how something works or how to do something, I start with research.” With that, John walked away, leaving Virgil to ponder how to research fixing a fear of swimming in a lake. And then it hit him. Research was the answer, he just had to look up the right thing – not how to fix the fear, but all the things there were to be afraid of. The more information you know about the thing you’re afraid of, the less scary it becomes. So, all he had to do was look up everything that could cause someone to get into trouble swimming in a lake – and maybe rivers, streams, and oceans too – and learn everything about them. If he knew how to spot the dangers or how to prevent them and how to get out of trouble, then maybe Gordon wouldn’t be afraid anymore. Virgil set off at a run to go and find Gordon. At first, Gordon wasn’t sure about this idea of Virgil’s. Sitting in front of a holoscreen looking up information sounded a lot like homework. But Virgil was insistent that they at least give it a try. After all, it couldn’t hurt to know more about different waterways. “Okay, so where do we start?” Gordon asked as they settled themselves at the big desk in the corner of the living room. “Well, what scares you most when you think about going swimming in the lake?” “Getting another cramp.” Gordon’s reply was quiet, and suddenly Virgil hated himself for making his little brother revisit that moment when everything had gone wrong. He put his hand on Gordon’s shoulder and offered a reassuring squeeze. “Then let’s start there. We can find out what causes cramps when you swim and learn how to prevent them or how to manage them.” Virgil found a great deal of information on muscle cramps related to swimmers, which he quickly became quite absorbed in. He had to remind himself to stick to the sites with simple wording and steer clear of the ones that crossed too far into medical jargon territory. The boys learned the importance of warming up before swimming, being careful not to overexert the muscles, and staying hydrated. They also found that cold water could increase the chance of cramping. Virgil physically shivered at the memory of plunging his arm into deceptively cold water to grab at one of the only parts of his little brother he could still see. They researched swimming in cold water, what caused cold spots in lakes and rivers and whether you could spot them, and ways you could avoid them or deal with them. They learned about different types of currents – ones you could see, and ones you wouldn’t know about until you felt them. Submerged objects, reeds and seaweed, rocks and tree roots . . . “What are you guys doing?” Scott startled them so badly Virgil jumped and Gordon squeaked. “Researching water safety.” Virgil decided honesty was the best way to go . . . to a point. “It’s for Rescue Scouts.” “But we don’t go back to Rescue Scouts until a week after school goes back.” Scott eyed both brothers suspiciously. “We know, but there’s no harm in getting in early, and Gordon really wants his Water Safety badge.” Virgil had to resist the urge to squirm under the scrutiny of his big brother’s gaze as Scott remained silent for what seemed like a whole minute. “Well, it’s time for lunch,” Scott finally said before turning his back on them and heading for the kitchen. Gordon grinned up at Virgil, who huffed out a long exhale in relief. He didn’t think Scott completely believed the Rescue Scout story, but it seemed as though they would be able to continue their research unquestioned. In fact, no one questioned the time these two spent together in snatches of an hour or two here and there over a couple of days, continuing to search out information on the best ways to stay safe in just about any body of water. Gordon had even made a scrapbook of notes and pictures so he could keep track of all the things they’d learned. Excuses aside, when Rescue Scouts resumed after the summer break, Gordon would already be well on his way to earning his Water Safety badge in earnest. As promised, Jeff was back home by the time the boys awoke on Saturday morning, and he began dropping hints about his plans for the best Last Day of Summer yet. It was to be bigger and better than ever before because, for the first time since they began making the end-of-summer vacation a celebration, it coincided with Virgil’s birthday. The first hints encouraged the boys to check their tents and sleeping bags. It wouldn’t just be a day out with a picnic lunch this year, it would be an overnight campout. There was a promise of campfire tales and s’mores and a special surprise that required the night sky as a backdrop. There were hints about guests that prompted a whole day of guessing who might be joining them at the lake. Grandma and Grandpa were the first confirmed additions to the guest list, along with “Uncle” Lee and a mysterious extra guest from England and his daughter, who was apparently around Virgil’s and John’s age. Amidst all the building excitement about the big event at the end of the week, signs of Gordon’s nervousness about returning to the lake were easily missed by the rest of the family. Only Virgil saw the signs – the slight frown at Scott’s mention that they’d all need to remember to bring their swimmers and towels, the look of horror at John wondering if he’d see more stars if he rowed out into the lake after dark. Virgil decided he’d have to take Gordon back to the lake before the weekend. They needed to return to the scene of the crime. Gordon, having come to much the same conclusion in his own way, approached Virgil after breakfast on the Wednesday. The day was clear and bright, much like it had been on the morning of that fateful day little more than a week before. It seemed like a good day to go back and face the monster that the lake had become. “Virgil,” Gordon said quietly, despite there being no one else in the living room at the time, “can we go back to the lake today? Can you take me?” “Today seems like a good day to me,” Virgil answered with a gentle smile. “We’ll have to tell Dad we’re going out for most of the day.” Now that Jeff was back from his trip and working from the home office, Lucy was spending more time at work. The boys were expected to look after each other and only interrupt their father if it was important, but Jeff would check up on them all throughout the day. “Do we have to say where we’re going?” Gordon twined his fingertips around each other, raising his eyes to meet Virgil’s from a head trying to look down at the floor. “We’ll tell him we’re going back to the place we visited last week to finish the drawing,” Virgil suggested. “It’s not exactly a lie. We are going back to the same place.” The knock on Jeff’s office door was tentative but loud enough that he heard it over the voice of the colleague on the other end of the video call. He muted his audio to tell his visitor to wait a moment before unmuting and bringing the phone conversation to a conclusion. “Come in,” he finally called towards the closed door. He was a little surprised by the request for this particular pair to spend a day out together on their own, but he remembered Lucy mentioning something about these two having been out on the top track the week before. He gave them permission to go provided they tell Scott and John where they were going and promise to be back by five. “Take something to eat and plenty of water, Virgil,” he reminded the older boy, “and look after your brother.” “I will, Dad.” Virgil gave a solemn nod, and the two boys slipped back out of the office, closing the door behind them. Bag packed with sandwiches and water bottles, art supplies for the sake of appearances, and towels, the boys were soon striding out across the paddock towards the top track. This time there were no lingering looks at the scenery as they walked – the birds, spiders, and bugs were largely ignored. Unlike the last time they had set out together, Virgil had no desire to hurry, and he let his younger brother set the pace. He noted with a small amount of pride the purposeful strides, the determination in the set of squared shoulders, and the fire in amber eyes as Gordon focused his energy on reaching their destination so he could do what needed to be done. Gordon’s determined march stuttered to a somewhat abrupt halt when they rounded the last curve and stepped onto the silty sand of the lake’s beach. With his eyes fixed on the water, shoulders drooping, it seemed Gordon’s fire had died. Without a word, Virgil placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, the simple gesture having the desired effect – lending the younger boy enough resolve to steel himself once again, lengthen his spine, and straighten his shoulders. Virgil steered them over to a patch of sand where he could spread out a towel for them to sit on. Shoes were shed in preparation for the inevitable trip to the water’s edge, but the boys remained seated. “What do you see out there?” Virgil asked. “It’s the same. Calm. Flat. But it’s different from last time too.” Virgil waited for a moment before trying again, wanting Gordon to see past the feeling of fear. “Remember what we learned about studying the ripples?” he prompted. “Is it really flat and calm?” There was silence as Gordon’s gaze focused intently on the expanse of blue stretching before them. The embers of the fire that had previously lit his eyes seemed to ignite anew as he studied the surface, looking for telltale signs. “There are reeds just under the surface over there,” he said, pointing a little to their left, “and the ripples over here are different to that bit farther out where it looks really smooth.” Virgil could see Gordon’s confidence growing as he gestured to various parts of the lake, telling his big brother what the differences in the rippled and smooth areas were likely to mean in terms of what was going on beneath the surface. Pretty soon they were on their feet and striding into the shallows to test the waters. Gordon entered the water at a slow walk, which Virgil thought was through caution or trepidation at first, but then Gordon gently trailed fingertips through the reeds and beckoned his big brother over. “Virgil, come look,” he called, looking up at him with a grin. “There are fish that feed in the reeds.” The next half hour was spent following Gordon through the shallows exploring the aquatic life found therein. As the younger boy got more caught up in watching the fish, finding different types of reeds, discovering eels, and excitedly pondering all manner of life in the depths of the lake, they wandered deeper into the water. Virgil followed and listened, answering questions as best he could when asked, smiling fondly all the while. The Squid was in his element. “Hey Gordon,” Virgil said as he playfully splashed a well-aimed hand scoop of water into the side of his little brother’s head. “You realise you’re getting your shirt wet, right?” Gordon looked down at the water that was now up to the middle of his chest and back up at his brother with a grin. “Oops.” They briefly returned to the little beach, shed their shirts, and laid them down in the sun to dry. “You know, when we come back this weekend, we’ll mostly be swimming out here where we just were.” Virgil nodded his head back towards the little patch of lake they’d just explored. “We could go a little deeper, actually lift our feet off the bottom and swim for a while. This is the only part of the lake any of us have ever really swum in before.” Gordon’s eyes sparkled with light reflecting off the water as he pondered Virgil’s words for a moment. Mom and Dad had always suggested the boys shouldn’t swim out past where they could touch the bottom and definitely never past the end of the wooden pier. Looking at the pier and the dinghy tied securely to its mooring drew his eye to the rock island beyond, tantalisingly close, yet so terrifyingly far. Virgil watched his squid brother scanning the water, casting his gaze over the safe and familiar. He saw the moment the line was crossed and thoughts turned to the challenge just that little farther afield. Once again, he placed a hand on Gordon’s shoulder, hoping to redirect his thoughts. “Why don’t we just go back in, swim around for a while, have some fun where we know it’s safe?” “Yeah, okay,” Gordon agreed, a little half-heartedly. Virgil took his brother by the hand, and by the time they’d taken two steps, they were running towards the water. He only let go once they were in deep enough that a tug of the hand lifted Gordon’s feet off the bottom and propelled him a short distance through the water. He received a splash to the face for his efforts, but his little brother was smiling and treading water. In no time at all, Gordon was literally swimming rings around his big brother, splashing at him and darting away, taunting him, daring him to swim after him. It was hunger that drove them out of the water and back onto the dry sand sometime later. PB&J sandwiches were retrieved from the backpack and devoured. The late summer sun warmed their shoulders as they sat in content silence, listening to the lapping of the water and the cries of the birds. Virgil would have been happy to remain there soaking it all in, but Gordon soon became restless, his gaze drifting back to where water birds were drying their outstretched wings. “Virgil, I wanna swim to the rock.” The fire was back in Gordon’s eyes. Virgil studied him for a moment, seeing that same determination that had driven the march to the lake. He wasn’t asking for permission, he was making a statement. It was what he’d come here to do – the demon he needed to conquer. Virgil wasn’t feeling anywhere near as courageous as his little brother looked at that moment. “Gordon . . .” “I need to do it, Virgil.” He turned his head, those glowing embers burning straight into his big brother’s wide brown eyes. “But I need you.” “I can’t . . .” “Use the boat. I’ll swim, you row. If I get into trouble, you’ll be right there.” Virgil had to look away. The intensity in those eyes, the body language, the strength of will in his little brother were too much. But it was the faith Gordon was placing in him that was twisting his gut. He caught sight of the rock island, out there beyond the boat docked at the pier. He was suddenly very aware of his own heartbeat thumping just a little too hard and a little too fast. Gordon needed this – needed him to do this with him. He couldn’t let the Squid down. “Okay,” he agreed with a sigh. He had expected a look of triumph, a smile, a victory dance . . . something. Anything but the simple nod and determined knitting of Gordon’s brow that he received in reply. The younger boy then grabbed his water bottle and took a long draught. “Staying hydrated helps stop you getting cramps, right?” Gordon asked. Virgil nodded. “And I should do some warmup stretches before I swim out there.” “Right again.” Virgil was gladdened by the amount of thought and preparation Gordon was putting into the task ahead of him this time. “And you’ll stay close in the boat?” There it was, the uncertainty just below that confident façade. “Right beside you all the way, little brother.” Virgil tried to school his expression into one of reassurance, but he wasn’t sure he managed it. They made their way across the sand and onto the wooden planks of the pier, then stood studying the expanse of water for a moment, watching the ripples and trying to read currents. Looking for dangers. At last Virgil could put it off no longer. Gordon was warmed up and ready to go, they had assessed the risks and had plans in mind for just about any eventuality. It was time to untie the boat and take up the oars. Sitting in the gently rocking dinghy, Virgil had to take a moment to close his eyes and concentrate on a few deep breaths to quell the hammering in his ribcage before looking back up at Gordon and giving a nod. He was as ready as he’d ever be. This time when Gordon dived in, he began his swim with a measured pace rather than a burst of speed that he wouldn’t be able to maintain. Virgil didn’t have to work too hard on the oar strokes to keep up with him. Not far out there was a brief moment of panic when Gordon suddenly stopped his forward momentum and started treading water. An odd expression furrowed his brow, then he ducked his head under the water. Dropping the oars and preparing to make a grab for his brother, Virgil was sure his heart stopped beating altogether for a second before the blond head re-emerged above the surface. Seeing the panic in his big brother’s eyes, Gordon grinned and held up the weed he’d just untangled from his leg. “It’s okay, Virge, no cramps, just waterweed.” And with that, he resumed his swim with a flurry of swift kicks and smooth strokes. By the time Virgil could regather the oars – and his wits – his little brother was ten meters ahead of him. It took only a few strong pulls on the oars to catch up again, but Virgil knew his pulse rate was not going to climb down out of the stratosphere until they were both on dry land. It felt like an eternity, but in reality, it was only a few minutes before Gordon was able to lay his hands on the slippery surface of the rock. Finding a decent hold, he clambered up far enough to sit on a crag, feet still in the water, triumphant grin lighting up his features, water droplets catching the sunlight, causing his hair and skin to glisten as he caught his breath. “I knew I could do it!” he panted as Virgil drew the dinghy close beside him. “I never doubted you, Squiddo,” Virgil agreed, practically beaming with pride at his brother’s achievement. “Now, are you gonna swim back? Or do you want a lift?” Gordon’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t really thought about the return trip. Virgil chuckled. “Um, I think maybe I’ll just come back with you in the boat.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, dragging it back from where it was dripping into his eyes. “No problem, Fish. You’ve proved enough for one day.” With a bit of manoeuvring, jostling, and boat rocking, Gordon was able to climb into the dinghy and settle himself into the seat at the prow. To him, the journey back to the dock seemed to take no time at all. Virgil’s strong, steady strokes with the oars propelled them quickly and smoothly through the water as though it took no effort at all. He jumped out of the boat and onto the pier before Virgil had even finished drawing the oars into the boat, then waited for Virgil to climb out and secure the mooring. “Virgil?” It was all the warning the older boy got as he turned to face his little brother, who closed the space between them at a run and launched himself into what became a squid hug, arms and legs tightly wrapped around Virgil’s torso. It took Virgil a couple of backward steps before he could steady himself under the sudden additional weight. “Thank you. You are the best big brother.” Virgil returned the embrace, allowing a chuckle to escape as he rested his head against damp hair. “You are a pretty amazing little brother, Squid.”

*** The Last Day of Summer celebration, and Virgil’s twelfth birthday turned out to be a fantastic, fun-filled event for all involved. Nothing could hold Gordon back from spending as much time as possible in the water, and so no one knew there had ever been a problem. The nightmares had run their course too. Summer vacation came to an end, and with the start of the school term, life returned to normal. A few weeks later a chance meeting at school pickup resulted in a few puzzle pieces slotting into place for Lucy. Gordon’s class teacher spotted Lucy waiting in the Kiss & Drop zone and made a passing comment about his wonderful piece of creative writing for the obligatory “What I Did Over Summer” assignment. When they got home, with the boys all occupied with snacks or homework and various afterschool activities, Lucy dug out Gordon’s writing workbook and found the story in question titled “My Summer Vacation,” with a large A+ written in red at the top of the page. My Summer Vacation I did lots of things in summer with my big brothers and we had lots of fun but there was one scary day. I went swimming in the lake when I wasn’t supposed to and I nearly drowned but my brother was there and he saved me. After that I was scared to go swimming, but he told me it would make him sad if I didn’t swim anymore because he says swimming makes me happy. We looked up all the ways you can get into trouble swimming in lakes and rivers and oceans. We found out all the ways you can look for dangers and get out of trouble in the water and how to be safe. Now I’m not scared to go swimming anymore. Well, that explained a great deal. Lucy smiled to herself and shook her head a little. She would have words with Virgil about the kind of secrets that needed to be shared with an adult, but she was struck once again by how amazing her boys could be and just how far they would go for one another.

***

[elphiej]

Be My Light - Chapter 3: Try to Stay Calm and Move on.

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: references to drug usage/ withdrawal, reference to sexual  situations/ sex work/ trafficking.  

Author’s note: Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy the next chapter. True to my style, it’s a little long but I think it flows well enough. Thank you for those who have commented on my previous chapters. I very much appreciate it. Thank you for your patients as well; work has been busy and I found out I had covid. I’m ok now but it did set me back a bit in finishing this. As always, please let me know what you think or let me know if you have any comments. I love them and all of you. Please enjoy!

Tag list:  @lolalalooo @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng, @barbikatherine, @mrsfortune1306, @lovesick-heart0, @iamnamjoonsbxtch, @deathkat657, @deeepvibes, @sugamonster22 , @weiinihao, @hemmofluke , @rainbow-zebra-unicorns

                              Chapter 3: Try to Stay Calm and Move On

                 Central Mercy was one of the largest and most active hospitals in all the city. And as you followed the EMTs through the trauma bay doors, the floor was full of medical staff moving about assessing patients. True to its name, Mercy didn’t discriminate and took in those that smaller practices were too scared to take: gang related cases. They feared retaliation. But Mercy was only interested in saving people. A team from the surgical floor came up beside the fast-moving gurney, listening as the EMT got them up to speed. You added some details, though your eyes never left the man on the gurney; he hadn’t regained consciousness since the police arrived and he seemed even paler than before. One of the nurses whispered that Doctor Na was waiting in the operating theatre. Henry Na was one of the top surgeons in all of Central and you felt a wave of relief knowing that the patient couldn’t be in better hands. But deep down, you knew you wouldn’t be at complete ease until you saw the young man awake and alright. And the fear of the unknown made you not want to lose sight of him.

               Before you could question why you felt so drawn to stay by the stranger, one of the nurses put her hands out in front of her and forced you to come to a stop right outside the OR doors. The doors slid shut and you were left alone in the hallway. And that is where the connection should have ended. Doctor Na and his staff would take good care of him, then he’d be transferred to another floor, and you would move on to your own patients. But you couldn’t stop the feeling of wanting to be near the stranger you found in the middle of a gun battle. But why? Could it be because you were a kind-hearted nurse or that you had just gone through a horrific experience together? You had asked him to explain what you had gotten yourself into after all. Perhaps on one of your breaks you could go visit? Was that weird? What would you say? ‘Hi, remember me? I’m the idiot who saved you after you got shot. Want to be friends?’

               Honestly, you didn’t think you were so desperate for companionship that you’d try to forge a friendship with some random guy who’s background you didn’t know. What were you expecting- a friendly relationship that could develop into something else? This wasn’t one of those romantic comedies you watched with Amber and, based on your track record, you weren’t that lucky. For all you knew, this guy was just as dangerous as the man with the cane. With the increase in U4-1A cases, was this a drug deal gone bad? It would be a shame if someone that handsome turned out to be a druggie. There were supposedly others that had gotten away; it could be a turf war. There were so many dangerous possibilities that ran through your mind. No, you sighed, it was best just to let it go. If you were meant to see him again, fate would make it so. Then, you would get some answers. But for now, it was time to get to work and move on.

               “I’m sure Jax is pulling his hair out by now,” you wondered, out loud. “Wonder what Amber’s going to say.”

               You didn’t have to wonder long, for as you turned on your heels, Amber was standing right behind you. Nerves still on edge, you couldn’t help but jump backwards. Amber was the definition of sweet but intimidating as her eyes bore into you. She was thin and lanky, completely swallowed by her baggy scrubs. She had a sharp face with short blonde hair that had been styled with an undercut. That, paired with her piercings and elaborate tattoos that decorated her arms, gave her a strong androgynous look that caught a lot of attention. She stared at you with a look of mixed anxious worry and anger.

               She crossed her arms over her chest. “Y/N,” she said, leaning in, “what the Pineapple?! Are you crazy or stupid?”

               “Is both an option,” you countered, trying to lighten the mood.

               Amber reached over and flicked her middle finger against your forehead. “I’m serious, dumbass, you really gave me a heart attack. You didn’t answer my text and I hear from the dispatch that you’re at the scene of a gang shooting?! I can’t begin to tell you the images my brain was coming up with! I thought I’d find you on a stretcher, covered in blood. I mean,” she gave you a meaningful look up and down, “more so than this.”

               You followed her gaze and, finally, got a good look at yourself. Your simple grey hoodie was covered in dark, splotchy patterns. The cuffs of your sleeves were dried dark from when you had tried to apply pressure to his wounds, there was a large stain on your side that had soaked through to your scrubs from carrying the young man behind the counter, and splattering decorated all over the rest of you. You were glad that the EMTs let you ride along in the ambulance; it would have made your bus ride more interesting looking like a slasher movie victim.

               You held up your hands, defensively. “It’s not mine. I promise, I didn’t get hurt. It’s from the real victim.”

               Amber sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Come on,” she said, ushering you away from the Operating rooms, “let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll tell Jax what’s going on after I get rid of these clothes. There’s no saving them.”

                ~*****************~

               Having skipped your shower this morning due to time, you were quite thankful for the warm water that eased the anxiety still rampant. Once Amber was satisfied that you weren’t injured, she brought you some new scrubs and bagged up your soiled ones to dispose of them. You were annoyed that you were losing your hoodie, since it was the only one you had since coming to Central and you hadn’t had time to go buy new clothes yet. At least you had packed the extra long sleeve shirt to help against the seasonal chill. Amber had left you a pair of grey scrubs that would help you blend in to your work shift. Once you changed, you made your way to your supervisor’s office. Jax was an older gentleman who always seemed to be on the edge of some emotion. The second he saw you, he flung himself at you and made you swear you were to never scare him to the point of turning his hair grey ever again. It took you promising five times before he let you head to your station.

               You weren’t surprised to see Amber sitting at the desk. However, you were surprised to see that she had surrounded herself with a wall of binders and notebooks while she typed away at the computer.

               “Are you preparing for an invasion?”

               “No, you have to stay away,” Amber cried in the most melodramatic tone she could muster. “You can’t come near me. Flee while you can!”

               You tried to contain your laughter with truly little success. “Okay? What happened since I showered? Were you exposed to something or are you just being weird?”

               “No, you just have to avoid me! I’m dangerous! I’m a girl with tattoos,” she exclaimed, holding her heavily tattooed arms out for display. “You have to avoid me!”

               You almost fell over from how strong you rolled your eyes. “You must have seen Mr. Young this morning.”

               “Well, someone had to since you decided to be an action star. And he was extremely disappointed to not see you.”

               You sat down in the chair next to her and wrapped your arms around her and rested your chin on her shoulder. “I’ll pop in on him later. For the record, I like your tattoos. I think they’re super cool.”

               “Don’t think you being cute with all those compliments are gonna distract me from your stupidity. What the heck were you thinking?”

               “I know,” you sighed, “I’m sorry that I worried you.”

               “Worried? That doesn’t even begin to describe that. You didn’t answer my call this morning. Then, I get a text from a random number, apparently you. Only to find out about the shooting. I had a feeling something bad was gonna happen this morning. Spill it, Y/N. What happened?” You gave your friend a quick recap from when you left your building to when the police found you behind the counter trying to keep the young man conscious. You decided to leave out the creepy encounter with the man with the cane and the encounter with the other gang member you had hit with the crowbar; you didn’t want her to worry any more than she already was. The entire time, Amber’s face was stern and she had crossed her arms over her chest. “See, this is why you should have just stayed with me at my loft. You’re all alone down there. Clearly I was right about it not being safe.”

               “Don’t be like that. I know you keep saying that you didn’t mind me staying with you, but it was time for me to start trying to live my life again. It may not be as nice as your place but it’s mine. And, this incident excluded, nothing bad has ever happened. It’s just that I couldn’t stop thinking about what I went through and being stronger than the bullies. You taught me that.”

               “Yeah but I didn’t mean going against a gun wielding psycho. It was a metaphor for the nightmares and that piece of shit you call an ex.”

               “I’ll remember that for next time.” You flashed Amber some pleading eyes and pouting lip. “I’m really sorry.”

               Amber groaned, but smiled back at you. “You’re lucky I like you. But I get one more bad feeling, I’m dragging you back and never letting you out of my sight.” She slid you a cup of coffee that you greedily took. You were sure that you had lost your tumbler somewhere at the bus stop, never to be seen again. “By the way, what was the random number you texted from? Did you get a new phone without telling me?”

               You almost choked on your coffee. You had hoped she wouldn’t have asked about that, knowing full well she was not going to be happy about the answer. You cursed at yourself for texting her from it. But with her staring at you, you knew you couldn’t get around it. You reached into your pocket and handed it to her. She, instantly, knew what it was and snatched it from you.

               “Why do you have this still? I thought you got rid of it?”

               “I didn’t mean to grab it. I was in a hurry this morning and it fell into my bag. I left the one you gave me at home and didn’t have time to go back up and get it.”

               “But you had time to run after gun shots?” She tapped around on the screen. “All the settings are back to normal. The locations and notifications are back on, too. Did he call you? Look at all the voice mails.”

               “I didn’t call him. The last message was days ago. I just texted you and read a couple messages. Don’t give me that look, Amber. I was just curious. I have no desire to call him or see him. I’m starting to get somewhat normal. Last thing I want is to fall back into a bad mind set. I just read a few texts to see what he was saying while I was walking. I swear, that’s all. Don’t worry about the settings. He’s not as smart or as tech savvy as you. He couldn’t grasp the concept of emojis, I doubt he’s gonna try anything you’re thinking of. I honestly just needed a phone for today. When I get home, it’s getting shut off and it’s going away for good.”

               “He’s such a scuzzball, trying to still contact you after all that.  This would be less stressful if you gave me his address. I’ll kick his ass up and down the coastline for what he did.”

               “I don’t doubt that. But I have to listen to the group’s advice and just let it go. And I think it’s time I try to focus on other things. That’s the way I’m gonna start to really get better, right?” You had been saying that for a while now, not really knowing how to move on or if you could. But something had changed. You couldn’t help but think back to the gang member, and how he reminded you of Daniel in those last moments you were together. There was a sense of relief and freedom that you just couldn’t help but relish in. It had almost been a cathartic experience that your body needed, the strength to take back yourself. To give back what you felt, to let all that rage and hate that you held deep inside out. It may not have healed you completely, but it was a start.

               The two of you started going over the case load for the day. Even as short staffed as you were, Amber had taken care of most of the early duties: checking on patients, dropping off medicine, and dealing with Mr. Young. You started going through the new files that were stacked on the station while Amber read the report from some of the other floors. It was interesting to see what was happening elsewhere in the ever-busy hospital. There was nothing about your gunshot victim yet, and you crossed your fingers that he was going to be alright. No news was good news, you figured. Amber had started talking about the new U4-1A cases that had been admitted since you were last there. There were four more cases since your last shift. And one of the new cases didn’t make it past 2 days. U4-1A was a highly addictive drug that played off of peoples’ want to feel good and exploited it to deadly consequences.

               “I can’t believe how many cases there are now.”

               “Tell me about it. It’s the new hot thing on the streets. Everyone wants to find ‘Euphoria’.”

               You gave Amber a confused look. “Find ‘Euphoria’? Is that what they call it?”

               Amber grabbed a paper and wrote it out. “Yeah, it makes sense when you look at it and read it out. Change the 1 to an I, and it says euphoria. It sounds better when you’re trying to score without drawing attention, I guess. Remember that one guy who was going through withdrawals at the underground club? He kept asking me if I could ‘help him find Euphoria’.”

               “Seems way too intense for a club drug. If it’s supposed to be like ecstasy and make you feel really good, why does it make you go through the worst kind of side effects and an even worse withdrawal?”

               “The theory the cops believe now is that it was made, primarily, for the sex trade industry.  Very little doses make you feel nice and all that. But pure U4-1A does all that and more. It needs to work its way out of the system fast else it causes heart failure and other bad things. Whoever made it added chemicals that affect the brain and senses, so the user loses all inhibitions and is in a constant state of intense arousal.  So much so that the user is willing to do anything to find a release with anyone. I heard Mary, the lady who’s been on the most U4-1A cases has had to do a lot of things just shy of actually fucking them. That considered, it makes sense that it would have started in the sex industry; a willing participant is better than one that fights in their eyes.”

               It was true that U4-1A, or Euphoria, made people feel euphoric and intensified the pleasure of touch. But from what you had heard from Amber and some of the other nurses, when the patients are under the influence of the powder, they beg anyone to do any kind of sexual act to help them chase the feeling. Whatever sick bastard who created it made it so the user couldn’t find relief on their own, either.  Another hospital had thought that if the patients were aroused that it should be enough to let them handle it on their own, since it seemed release was the way to increase the heart rate and move the substance through the system. But the first few patients were in distress for hours until their hearts gave out from the effects of the chemicals in their blood. Doctor Na had been trying to see if any kind of physical activity, outside of sexual, could be the key to rehabilitating the Euphoria addicts. But it hadn’t seemed to be working. With more cases rising, there didn’t seem to be a treatment unless you had only the smallest amount. And survivors from the withdrawal seemed to be just as slim. The patients went through intense fevers, tremors, breathing problems, and pain without the substance. One of Central’s patients didn’t last two days of withdrawals.

               “I’m telling you,” Amber went on, drawing you out of your thoughts, “I don’t care who or how many are rocking my world or how long since my last date. No orgasm is worth dying for.”

               You let out a small chuckle at her attempt to push away from a not-so-fun topic. You nodded your head in agreement, though you couldn’t really remember the last time you had experienced anything other than a kiss from your ex. You could feel Amber’s eyes on you as you shuffled through the rest of the files.

               “So, speaking of orgasms,” she segwayed, leaning over with an eyebrow arched, “since you seem to be ready to start making some changes in your life, when are we gonna get you out for a date night?”

               “I didn’t say I was ready for a relationship.”

               “Whoa, who said anything about a relationship? I’m just saying have some fun, get a dinner, meet someone and start getting more confident with yourself. I have some friends I could set you up with. All of them are sweet and know I would kill them if they tried anything.”

               You hadn’t really thought about dating or anything like that. You had been so focused on healing your mind and getting settled into a new routine that it hadn’t even crossed your mind. You want to tell her ‘No’ but you found yourself considering it. Maybe it would be a good idea to just try to hang out with someone other than Amber. “I don’t know…,” you mused.

               That was all Amber needed. “Let’s just imagine. What’s your type? I mean, besides the complete opposite of your ex.”

               “I don’t really think I have a type. I know that Daniel was my friend and we were always together, so I think that’s why we started dating. But I don’t think I have one other than being a nice guy.”

               “Okay, let’s think about this. How about my friend Bryce?” You made a face, remembering the one time you met Eric when Amber and you went shopping and he spilled his drink all over you. “Okay, maybe not. How about Lee or Michael?”

               “They’re nice, I think.”

               “Oh, what about Dean from the kitchen staff? He’s so hot!”

               “The guy with the guitar and the smooth voice? The one who flirts with everyone and shows off his tattoos? Yeah, he’s definitely hot. Maybe too hot for someone like me. I feel like you two would fit together better.”

               “Stop that, you are so cute. I’d date you. I’d even give you a kiss goodnight.” Amber moved in to kiss you on the cheek, only to find her rolling chair being pushed by your foot. “Fine, see if I kiss you ever again. How about Eric from the pediatric ward? I’ve seen you two talk and he’s really easy to be around. Ooh, or Chris? You know, the one with the cute accent and hot body to match? I think you two would be able to reach your own version of euphoria.”

               “Ok, I’m done with you. You are ridiculous. I have patients to get to. And, even if I didn’t, I would rather get hit on by Mr. Young than have you start talking about me and some random guy.”

               Amber busted out laughing as you grabbed some charts and all but ran from the desk. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep workshopping it. This is just the next project in the ‘make my precious friend feel normal’ plan.”

               Despite the way your day had begun, your shift was free of any real excitement. And to be honest, you were happy to have a normal shift. You handed out medicine when it was time, changed the dressing of a girl who had been in a car accident, and took the time to pop in on Mr. Young since he was so upset that you hadn’t been there that morning. You figured listening to the old man’s reveries from his youth was a good punishment for your tardiness. Though, as you sat there, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the blond man. You wondered if he was still in the O.R. or if he had been moved. Were his injuries as bad as you thought or worse? You wanted to go see if Doctor Na was out of surgery and if there was any news. Stop it, you scolded yourself, stop focusing so much on that. Just do your job. Stay calm. You pushed yourself to go through the motions of your job, putting your body on autopilot as you tried not to think about him anymore. For the most part, it seemed to work; every time you blinked, you were off to the next task. Even as Amber dragged you away for a quick lunch, you focused extra hard as your friend excitedly recounted her night of online gaming, and her ever continuing feud with Seagull-eye97. Based on the color in Amber’s cheeks as she complained about them snipping her during their last dual, it was a struggle.

               By the afternoon, you had enough distractions to not think too much about the blond stranger. Amber had found out that Dr. Na was no longer in the OR, and it seemed like everything was alright. You felt some relief from such small information. While the thought to check up on the stranger popped back into your mind, you decided to stick to your plan to let the universe decide if you were going to meet again.

               And the universe had it’s funny way of making that happen.

               You were back at the station helping one of the patients get discharged. She was a nice girl who had been in a car accident and was finally being released. You were printing out the doctor’s orders and getting her prescriptions in order when one of the girl’s friends, one you had seen during visiting hours often, came to take her home. As you handed the friend the paperwork, you noticed they had matching tattoos, a Roman numeral II, on different parts of their arms. They called them friendship tattoos and you thought that was cute. Though, you weren’t sure if you would get one with Amber anytime soon. Once the girls were gone, you sat back at the station to finish up your paperwork.

               A voice caught your attention and made you look up towards the hallway that led to the elevator. Doctor Henry Na stepped off with a few other nurses, talking quietly and laughing about something you couldn’t hear. You couldn’t help but find yourself smiling at the sight of him. And not just because it further proved that he had finished up the surgery. Henry was someone you had come to be friendly with, like with Amber. He was one of the nicest people you had been introduced to and he made a point to see you on your shift. He was tall and broad, with a smile that was just as kind as his demeanor. He had shared many coffee breaks talking about things, getting your mind from whatever was making it panic, never making you feel like he was just going through the motions. You couldn’t help but feel a certain way whenever he was around, something you couldn’t remember feeling before. A feeling of safety and happiness. Amber’s conversation from earlier seemed to pop into your mind about your type of man. Based on the excited feeling that crept up into you, you couldn’t deny that you liked him. But so did everyone else in the hospital and he probably didn’t see you that way. He had glanced over towards the station and gave you a little wave as he finished his conversation. And that butterfly feeling intensified.

               “Why do you look like that?”

               Amber had the strangest ability of just appearing out of nowhere at the worst moment. You felt yourself jump and heat rise in your cheeks. You tried to hide yourself in your hands but Amber followed where you had been staring at. And a teasing smirk appeared as she put the pieces together.

               “I guess I figured out your type. Look at you going for the most eligible bachelor in this hospital. I like it;  skip the boy and go right for the man.”

               “You are so embarrassing! We’re friends. He’s just nice to me. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to be with someone with such baggage.”

               “I don’t know. You should have seen the way he looked at you when you started blushing.”

               You went to shove her away as she started making kissy faces at you, when you noticed Na shaking hands with one of the nurses and starting towards the station. Your body acted on its own in an excited and nervous frenzy, as you reached into your pants pocket and pulled out a small bottle of body spray you had brought with you after changing and ducked down. You sprayed the lily scented water over yourself, trying to rid yourself of the sterile smell of your clothes. You froze when you felt Amber’s smug and judging glance. “What? I like to smell nice and I forgot to spray some this morning after I changed.”

               “Sure, honey. Hi, Henry,” she greeted and you sat straight up.

               “Hi Amber, Y/N,” he greeted back, his gaze fixed on you. “How are things going up here?”

               “Oh you know, same old stuff. Though, I think I left my pen somewhere. I should go find it. You two talk.” And she abandoned you, throwing you a thumbs up and some faces that you had to remember to beat her for.

               “Hi, Doctor Na,” you said, “did everything go ok this morning?”

               “I feel like I should be asking you that. I heard you ran into the building with an active shooter. That’s something I never thought I’d hear you doing.”

               “You and everyone else it would seem. I just wanted to help and let my body run on autopilot.”

               “Well, it was tough in there for a bit but, because of you, our John Doe is going to see another day. He’s responding well and I had him moved from post op. He lost a lot of blood and he’s gonna be in some pain for a bit. We have him on some pain medicine that’s going to have him out for a while. But he was responding to the outer stimulus. I think they’re moving him to the room at the end of the hall. Can you just promise me that you won’t worry me like that ever again? I don’t like the thought of someone as sweet as you doing something so dangerous. How are you feeling, honestly? Anxious at all? Anything you want to talk about? I haven’t had any luck identifying that prescription yet, and my friend in the pharmacy hasn’t gotten back to me yet. So, I just want to make sure you’re good.”

               He knew your anxiety had been active since you had come to him to try to find exactly what your medicine was. His calming eyes looked down at you with concern. “I’m alright,” you said, trying to control the color in your cheeks as you tried to maintain eye contact, “when I got here, I just jumped into work so I didn’t have time to think about anything else. I’m okay, thank you, Doctor Na.”

               “I thought we talked about you calling me Henry, remember? See that’s what I like about you, Y/N. You care so much about everyone else. You really are a good nurse. I just wish you’d do the same for yourself. I suppose I’ll have to make sure you’re really ok. How about we talk about it over dinner this week?”

               You’re sure you must have looked like a deer in the headlights. “What?”

               “Well, someone who risks their own safety to help others should get some kind of reward, shouldn’t they? Figured why not let me treat you for once. How about it? Maybe we can talk about other things, too. Not work related? Maybe get to know each other better?”

               You felt like the whole world had just turned upside down. Was the most handsome doctor who you had been friendly with over the last few months just asking you out? You, out of every other good-looking person in this hospital? Did he actually ask you out? The way he was looking at you, like he was nervous you’d say ‘no’, made it seem that way. He had been extra attentive recently. And Amber was always saying you were kind of oblivious when it came to flirting having not really experienced it. You, suddenly, found yourself too nervous to say anything, and nodded. His smile returned, all wide and excited, which made you shyly smile back.

               True to her fashion, Amber came slipping back into the conversation, which you were happy with, fearing you’d burn a hole in the ground with how hot your cheeks were. “Okay, you guys look far too cute over here. Time to get back to work. Did you have a reason for coming to our side of the floor, Henry, or are you just gonna make goo-goo eyes at everyone?”

               Henry cleared his throat, trying to hide his slight awkwardness. “I was telling Y/N that we moved that patient to this floor for recovery. He should be in the last room down that hall. And I was hoping she wouldn’t mind taking this to his room?” He placed a clear bag on the station. It had the patient’s personal effects in it. “I figured that since she was with him, he might be more comfortable with someone he recognizes.”        

               You nodded and took the bag from him. “I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

               “I’d appreciate that. Umm… I’ll get back to my rounds now, before I’m banished by Amber here. I’ll talk to my friend about that prescription and see you later, Y/N.” He turned to leave with a little wave at you and Amber. Before he got too far, he turned over his shoulder. “Nice perfume, by the way, Y/N. It really suits you.”

               He made a quick exit as Amber made a funny noise and you were alone with her gaze on you and a smile on your face.

               “You two should really get a room. Like the one at your apartment or his. I can just imagine it.”

               “You are so awful. He just asked me to get dinner. It may not even be a date. He’s just being nice, I’m sure.”

               “Please, he wants to talk about non work related stuff. Plus, I saw the way he was looking at you. He thinks you’re cute. And you are still blushing. Trust me, I know.”

               ‘We’ll see about that.” You looked at the bag in front of you. It had ‘John Doe’ written on it. There was a wallet, cellphone, a watch, and a few pieces of jewelry. The EMT’s had cut his shirt open to get to his injuries, and you were sure the rest of his clothes were being held for the police, whenever they came to get evidence and statements. You thought it was odd you hadn’t seen any since you left the construction site. You opened the bag and pulled out the wallet, hoping to find some kind of name. The wallet was empty, save for a few dollars and a key card. You reached for his phone. It was dead. You reached into your desk and pulled out a spare cord and power bank. There had to be something on there to figure out who he was or get ahold of someone who did. You plugged it in and put it back in the bag. You pushed off from the desk and made for the room at the end of the hall.

               The room was dark when you entered, save for the dim light above the bed and the glow from the heart monitor. You pushed the privacy curtain aside, and were welcomed by the sight of the blond stranger that had occupied the edges of your mind. The bed made him seem so small and his pale skin made him appear so fragile. His eyes were closed, but the steady rise and fall of his chest gave you some relief. His hair was still damp from where the staff had rinsed the blood from his hair. There was a bandage near his hairline. The cuts on his face had been treated and the bruising was much more visible now. There was an oxygen cannula tube strapped across his face and nose. And you could just see the edge of bandages peeking out from under the patient’s uniform they had dressed him in. He looked awful but he was alive, and you were so relieved you thought you might cry.

               “So, this is the man you ran into gun fire for?” Amber followed you in with his chart in her hand. “I can understand why.”

               “I’m so happy he’s ok. He looked so bad when the ambulance came. I promised him he’d be ok, that I’d get him out.”

               Amber patted you on the shoulder, giving you a sympathetic smile. “He’s gonna be fine. Hopefully, he wakes up soon, then you can stop worrying so much. And we can get a real name for him. He doesn’t look like a John. We should give him a nickname. With hair like that, I’d rather call him ‘popstar’.”

               “I think his name is Agust. Someone kept saying they were looking for Agust. I assume that’s him.”

               “He looks more like an Agust than a John.” Amber took out her pen and started making some changes. “Agust Doe. No, that sounds weird. How about just Agust D? Sounds more like a pop star name doesn’t it?”

               You nodded your head; Agust D sounded better than a blank identity. Amber placed his file at the end of the bed, and patted your shoulder. You gave a reassuring smile before she decided to leave the room. And you were alone with the blond stranger, or Agust. You took a couple steps closer to the bed, worried that he might wake up. But he didn’t; he continued to sleep in the drug induced state. In this forced, relaxed form, you couldn’t deny he was more handsome than your initial thought at your first meeting. Leaning forward over his form, your fingers reached out to check the bandage near his hairline, moving some of the stray blond hairs aside. You had no doubt that the others had done an exceptional job, but an odd sense of protectiveness made you look at everything extra close. Must be because of what happened earlier, you had concluded. There was an IV bag hanging above the bed, along with a transfusion bag replacing what he had lost. Absentmindedly, your fingers had slowly moved across his hair and down to his cheek. You were glad that it wasn’t as cold and clammy as it had been.

               “See, I told you I was gonna get you out. Now, you need to make sure you get better soon so you tell me everything,” you said with a small smile. The boy in the bed inhaled deeply, before pressing his cheek further into your light touch. The sudden movement startled you. “Agust? Can you hear me?”

               But he was still again. And your question was overtaken by the soft beep of the instruments around him.

               Suddenly, a shrill ring exploded in the room, making you jump back away from the bed as if you had been shocked. You whirled round trying to find what was causing it. Your eyes caught the flash of light on the end table beside you. It was the cell phone. Had it turned on by itself once it had enough power? Odd as it was, someone was trying to get a hold of him and you knew you should make sure they came to be with him. Maybe they knew what he was doing at the construction site and who had attacked him. You reached into the bag and pulled the phone out. The screen was flashing with a contact name, ‘God of Destruction’, and with a notification that this number had called multiple times, as well as other numbers over the last few hours. You slid your fingers across the screen and brought the phone up to your ear.

               Before you could say anything, your ears were bombarded with multiple voices all speaking in a chaotic chorus. One voice, whomever had the phone, spoke loudly over the din. “Hyung! Finally, I was so scared. Where are you? Are you okay? Tell me what the bastard did and I’ll fuck him up so bad.”

Someone else had pulled the phone closer to them. “Hyung, I’m so sorry. We should have never split up..”

Another struggle for the phone and another voice that sounded older than the last rang in over the continuing strings of conversations they were all trying to have. “Yah! Where have you been?! What were you doing, getting a coffee instead of giving us some kind of sign that you were alive?! You prick!”

The first voice must have got the phone back, as his was the most dominant voice again. “Guys, shut up, I can’t hear anything. Hyung, say something. Where are you?”

“Hello,” you responded in a small voice.

The chaotic voices all stopped, and for a moment you were scared the call had dropped. The voice seemed to drop into a serious octave. “Who is this?”

“Umm… my name is Y/N. I’m a nurse at Central Mercy Hospital. We brought the owner of this phone here after he was involved in a shooting.”

“Is he okay?” It was a different voice, sounding genuinely concerned.

“He needed emergency surgery. But we have him stable now. But he’s gonna need someone here. Are you his family or someone who can get here?”

“You said Central Mercy? What level is he on now? Who’s the doctor who saw him?” You gave him what he had asked for. “Alright, listen to me very closely. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Stay calm but do exactly as I say and it’ll be okay. Do not let anyone enter that room but you or this Doctor Na until I get there, do you understand me?”

You felt a little annoyed that he was ordering you around, but there was something in his tone that gave you the sense that this was not a joke and something to take seriously. “And who are you.”

“Call me RM.” Then the line went dead.

[roguerogerss]

Hi babe! I saw you wanted some requests so here I am! Could you do a Bucky x reader where the reader has secret telekinesis abilities (or whatever Wanda can do lmao) and is forced to use them on a mission. Bucky is just in shock bc his secret crush is a even more of a badass, so when he compliments her powers, she gets flustered and disagrees bc they’re dangerous, so Bucky helps her see the beauty in them? Tysm ❤️❤️

His Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

W/C: 3.9k (eek sorry!)

Warnings: Language (??), that's literally it.

(A/N: This one got away from me a little and I wrote wayyy more than anticipated. I hope u like it though? Idk. I had so much fun with this request, thank u sm bb! Praying that someone reads this, even though it's a whole ass novel.)

————

"Bucky, where are you? We have a minute and eight seconds until this place blows."

Y/N was worried, and, upon hearing her frantic voice in his intercoms, Bucky was too. He was aware that he didn't have long until the bomb detonated, but unaware of just how short that amount of time was. He was caught up in a fight, one that was frustrating in the way that he couldn't shake this guy. "Yeah, be there in five?"

He was being sarcastic, he must've been being sarcastic, Y/N shook her head and pressed her fingers to her temples, agitated. "Five what? Five seconds? Minutes? Bucky, I have to ask, are you insane?"

She seemed angry - no, she was most definitely angry - and Bucky silently cursed himself and allowed the Hydra agent to get a hit in, he thought he probably deserved it. "Look, I'll get out. Is there anything you guys can do to buy me some more time?"

Tony had chimed in by this point, telling Bucky that he was 'fucking crazy', ranting and raving to the heavens above about how the entire motive had been messed up and they might as well have stayed home. Y/N knew that she could help him, but that would mean using them - she didn't like to call them by the name that most would use - and she wasn't sure if it was really worth the risk. Bucky would get out, right? He'd work something out.

But time was ticking on, fifty-nine seconds now, and she was unsure of just how right that assumption was. She wasn't even entirely sure that she still had her powers, since she'd avoided using them or telling anyone that they existed since she'd escaped from the grasp of Hydra. Even as she doubted her abilities, she found herself rising from her seat behind the control panels of the Quinjet, next to Steve, and sprinting to the exit to the aircraft.

"Y/N, where are you going?" Steve asked, getting up and following her. The rest of the team were staring now, Natasha and Tony also standing from their places and looking expectantly in Y/N's direction.

"I have something that'll help. Something that you guys don't know about." She said sheepishly, slamming her palm down on the button that opened the exit hatch. "Don't worry, I've got this."

Even though she was promising her friends that everything would be okay, they seemingly didn't believe her, as all five of the other Avengers on the ship - Tony, Nat, Steve, Sam and Thor - followed her out onto the streets of Bucharest, where the public was in awe at the huge, futuristic ship that was sat in the middle of a narrow, cobbled street. Natasha had told them to go home, she'd made the best effort she could to make sure that everyone was safe. However, no one had listened, and so she desperately ushered them away from the place that she knew would soon be rubble, while Y/N ran in search for Bucky.

They had what they'd came for, but that didn't mean that there were no Hydra agents willing to get into altercations with the team. Thor and Steve were frantically fighting off a pack of them, while Tony and Sam helped Y/N, hopefully getting a better view of the streets and where Bucky might be. "Hey, Y/N, I got him. Turn right, next street over. You'll see him." Sam spoke into the intercoms. Y/N thanked him, hurrying off in search of the super-soldier to whom she'd taken more than a liking to over the few months that he'd been fighting with them.

"Buck, I'm on my way, you better be ready to get the fuck out of here." Bucky's eyebrows furrowed as he wondered why Y/N, of all people, was the one who was coming to save him. He had to admit, he was more embarrassed than anything else, needing the help of the one girl who he'd felt anything for in seventy years. But he tried to brush it off, mostly because he had to focus on not letting a Hydra agent rip his arm off, and answered her.

"What are you gonna do? If I can't fight him off, no offence, but what makes you think you'll be able to?" Bucky sounded breathless, and she could hear the obvious sounds of strain and struggle as he continued to tussle with the agent. Y/N took a deep breath and turned the corner, close enough to hear the ominous beeping of the explosive device that a Hydra agent had planted there in hopes of causing harm to one of the Avengers.

"You know what, maybe don't question it. I have my own doubts, but it certainly doesn't help that you have them too."

The agent, who was currently deep in a brawl with Bucky, noticed Y/N, but all that she was able to think about was the amount of time that was left on the clock. She asked FRIDAY, and a rush of adrenaline and fear coursed through her when she realised that they weren't going to get out in time.

Ten, nine, eight, seven,

Y/N drew her gun and shot the Hydra agent, not missing as usual, and Bucky snorted. "Couldn't have done that earlier?"

Four, three, two,

She knew that this was it. It was either expose the world to her powers, probably be deemed as a weapon and certainly become even more wanted by Hydra, or die, and let her friends die too. She took a deep breath and felt the horribly familiar surge of - what was it, electricity? She wasn't actually sure - coursing through her body, and watched as Bucky ogled at the purple wisps of magic that extended from her hands and the way that her irises seemed to ignite.

One.

Bucky ducked and shielded his face, but looked up again when he didn't hear, nor feel anything that would signal an explosion had happened. Y/N had it under control, holding the bomb together with just her fingertips. She'd thought that it wouldn't happen, that her abilities would've simply subsided into nothingness due to being unused for so long, but she was wrong. She'd done it, and there was no going back now.

And then? The small explosion turned huge, and lurched forwards, setting a civilian apartment building completely alight. Y/N stood, watching, mouth wide open and quite unable to understand the circumstances of what the hell just happened. Bucky was at her side, a hand on her shoulder as he, too, watched the destruction take place. The rest of the team had rushed straight there, each one of them with hands over agape mouths while Steve called for Fire and Rescue and Tony wondered aloud, 'What the fuck is going on?'

Y/N found herself on her knees. She could see and hear Bucky in front of her, worry in his eyes as a few tears dripped from her chin onto her chest, but she didn't have it in her to decipher what his words meant, they all just sounded muffled and like he was speaking a language that she didn't understand.

She didn't know what she'd done, how bad it was, but she could hear the screams of the residents of the building, she could feel them vibrating through her body and ringing in her ears, and that was enough to convince her that her enhancements truly were the worst thing about her, that she really was the weapon that Hydra had deliberately mutated her to be.

--------

It had been hours. How many, Y/N was unsure, but a considerable amount of time had passed since they'd gotten home. The flight back from Bucharest had consisted of Y/N locking herself in a cabin, and the rest of the people on the Quinjet taking it in turns to try to speak to her, to try to understand.

No one, apart from Bucky, (who only had a vague idea), knew what had happened. There wasn't a single person on the jet who could fully understand it, Y/N included.

She was now sat on a sofa in the lounge, chewing off parts of her nails while everyone murmured and tiptoed around her. Tony was speaking quickly on the phone and glancing at her every couple of seconds, Steve was pacing back and forth along the length of the room.

Y/N wondered for a minute what would happen. Would she be arrested? Would something like the accords happen again? Was she about to become the cause of another civil war? Would Tony disown her? Send her back to Hydra? She didn't know. She didn't think she wanted to know.

Wanda and Natasha had come to comfort Y/N at first, sat with her and braided her hair like they did often, and it was nice to think that Wanda knew exactly what she was going through.

However, she'd told them that she wanted to be alone, and they'd dispersed and were sitting quietly in two separate armchairs, watching a movie with Sam. The truth was, she didn't really want to be alone. She wanted Bucky. She didn't quite know why, but she'd always felt calm around him, which was one of the reasons why she'd taken such a shine to him, and she made it very clear to herself that she was at least a little bit in love with Bucky, in a way that was less platonic and more romantic.

She couldn't lie and say that she was happy with the way that he'd handled things, though. As soon as the jet landed, he mumbled something about taking a shower and hurried off to his room, like he couldn't stand to be around her for any longer, like he was afraid of her.

And, honestly? She wouldn't be surprised if he was.

The truth, of course, wasn't that Bucky didn't want to see her, it wasn't that he was afraid of her, it was that she was evidently upset. It was tearing him apart to have to see her like that. He felt like he was obligated to be alone to think about what had happened, because he knew that - realistically - it was his fault that she'd had to use her powers. He'd been caught up in a fight, the bomb that had been planted was seconds away from detonating, she had to do something. Of course, he had no idea that something was going to be exposing hidden telekinetic abilities to the world, but close enough, right?

"I just got off the phone with a higher up." Tony stood in the middle of the lounge, everyone looking at him as he began his speech. "Everything's gonna be fine. Just, maybe don't turn on the news for a couple days, Y/N doesn't need to see that."

"Don't act like I'm a kid, please." Y/N spoke up, making it clear that she was annoyed by the fact that everyone was seemingly ignoring that it was her who had done this. "I did this, Tony. I want to know how much damage I caused."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, shaking his head at her. "No, this is not the time to get all Steve-y on me, okay? You don't need to see it, you don't need to know, so you're not going to. Is that clear to you?"

"Mistakes happen, Y/N. It's not your fault." Steve said from where he was standing, next to the breakfast bar. "What matters is that you tell us what actually happened at some point."

"So, what I'm going to take from that, is that it's bad." She turned from Steve, back to Tony. "I'm not weak, I can deal with what I did, Tony."

Tony snapped, the stress of the situation and the argument from his daughter-figure becoming too much for him to handle, "Goddamn it, Y/N, you really wanna know what you did? Let's see, first of all, you used whatever powers you have, something that you clearly knew about but warned no one of. Second of all, you essentially bombed an apartment building in a poor part of Romania, you literally took from the poor. And now what? Fifty-five people are dead, kids have been left without parents, and that's on my back. Plus, you're being publicly deemed as a weapon until they figure out what's really going on there. So, do tell us, what is really going on there?"

"Tony. Stop." Wanda said, but Y/N was already halfway out of the room, with Tony realising that he probably shouldn't have said what he did and following after her.

"Y/N, hey, I'm sorry, okay?" Tony called, but she wasn't listening. She got in the elevator and left Tony alone in the hallway without a word, tears threatening to spill from her eyes the whole time.

And then, finally, they did. When the doors of the elevator closed, when she could no longer hear Tony's voice, when she was alone, oh they did. She found herself on the floor, face cradled in her hands - the same hands that killed fifty-five people just hours before - and there were tears falling from her eyes, past her chin, soaking her black catsuit.

She felt empty, like her body was a shell and she was simply there, watching herself fall apart. It was a kind of guilt, one that ate at her from the inside and seared through every nerve, every part of her, until she could think of doing nothing but curling up and ceasing to exist. She wanted to yell, scream, punch something, run. Anything that would distract her from how she felt. She wanted to sleep for a week, maybe two, forget about everything and ignore her responsibilities until it hurt less. Most importantly, however, she wanted Bucky. She wanted now more than ever to be his girl. For him to lay with her and tangle his fingers in her hair and whisper sweet things in her ear until the bad things in the world simply melted away.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, but Y/N didn't get up, not until FRIDAY asked if she wanted to go to another floor. When she did, however, she found herself taking the wrong turn, to the left instead of to the right, and walking away from her room instead of towards it. Without thinking, she'd already opened the door to Bucky's room, where he was reclined lazily on his bed, a pair of sweatpants on and nothing else, focused on the ceiling.

He furrowed his eyebrows at her when she gave him a tiny little smile, but sighed when he noticed the remnants of her somewhat breakdown on her face. Bucky held his arms open, "Hey, c'mere."

She stepped into his embrace, tears finding their way onto her face again, and let him caress her back and play with her hair until the crying stopped. When Bucky held her, everything felt different, like she could put things into perspective and understand that maybe it wasn't all her fault. "Look, I know you think that this is the end of the world. I know it's scary, but Wanda learned how to use her powers for good. You can do the same." Bucky's attempt at comforting Y/N wasn't exactly superlative, but she knew that he was trying.

"I'm a weapon, Buck." She pulled away from him and sat on the end of the bed, wanting to cry and clawing at the sleeves of her suit in an essay to calm herself down. "That's how Tony worded it, anyway. I shouldn't have used them."

Bucky knew that his next question was stupid, that he probably shouldn't have asked it, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he was speaking before properly thinking over the consequences. "How did you get them?" He reached out for her hand and she let him hold it, getting a rush of exhilaration from the affectionate gesture.

Bucky wasn't usually one for showing how he felt, much less for saying it out loud or doing anything to communicate his feelings, and he wasn't quite sure why he had had a sudden change of heart and almost wanted her to know that he liked her, that, really, he would do anything for her. She didn't meet his eye as she began her explanation. "Well, before Tony found me, I worked for Hydra. Actually, less worked for them and more became their personal lab rat. They did a lot of experiments on me, tortured me, really, made me more destructive than any enemy organisation would know how to handle. And then, I escaped. And here I am, talking to you."

She gave him a sad little smile, one that he would swear had broken him. "I'm sorry." It was a lame excuse for comfort, really it was, but he racked his brain once, twice, and couldn't for the life of him find the right words to say.

"Don't be." Y/N shifted in her place, gaze on her hands which were clasped in her lap. It was quiet and Bucky wished that he knew what to say to her, that he could think of something that would make her feel less alone or soothe her in some way. A minute went by, two minutes, three minutes. The silence might've been comfortable between the pair, but it was certainly uncomfortable between Y/N and her own thoughts. "I should go." She said, standing from her place on the bed without looking in Bucky's direction once.

He knew that he had to say something, anything that would make her stay. The thought of her alone in her room was heartbreaking to him. He grabbed her wrist before she could take any more than a few steps towards the door and she looked down at him, lips slightly parted and one eyebrow raised in a silent question. "You're not a weapon. Sure, Stark said that, whatever, the guy's an asshole. But you're not a weapon, Y/N."

She gave a little humourless laugh, blowing a puff of air out of her nose. "The government apparently seem to think so."

Bucky smiled at her and said, "Fuck the government."

"Oh, so you're an anarchist now? Classy." Y/N sat back down and Bucky's heart felt like it was doing summersaults in his chest, all fluttery. She was smiling, he had made her smile, and it was genuine. As far as he was concerned, nothing else really mattered.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't, actually."

Bucky sighed and cocked an eyebrow at her, eliciting a laugh from her lips. "You're really going to make me explain myself, huh?" He joked. "Look, You're not a weapon to me. I think you're a badass, actually." She snorted.

"Bucky, I killed a lot of people."

"So have I." Bucky's tongue darted out to wet his lips as he placed a tender hand on her thigh. "You don't see me as the bad guy. You never have, actually. What I'm trying to say, is that all of us have done bad things. Made mistakes, lost control, that doesn't make us bad people."

"I feel like a bad person." Y/N had her eyes trained on Bucky's face, bottom lip held tightly between her teeth as she tried to avoid letting herself word-vomit about everything that she was feeling at that moment. His hand squeezed her thigh gently, and she let out an embarrassing and involuntary gasp that made her cheeks turn bright red.

"Don't. Y/N, I know it's cheesy as hell, but you did it to save my life, right?" Y/N nodded slowly, "So how does that make you a bad person?"

"You're grasping at strings, here."

“What can I say that'll make you feel better?"

Y/N knew what she wanted to hear, that he liked her as more than a friend, that he wanted to be with her like she wanted to be with him, that her fantasies weren't just fantasies, that he really did love her. But she couldn't say that. God, of course she couldn't say that. So, instead, she simply shrugged.

Bucky knew what he wanted to say to her, that he liked her as more than a friend, wanted her to be with him, of course he loved her. He couldn't drop all of that on her when all she'd given was a shrug, right? Wrong, apparently, because the words spilled from his mouth anyways, like he couldn't control himself.

And really, he couldn't. But he figured that she already knew that.

“I love you." He spluttered, and her eyes widened in shock. "Okay? God, I love you. And what you did today? Made me love you even more. I know you probably don't want to hear this, you don't want me to ruin our friendship, and I get it, I do. But, right now, all I wanna do is protect you, and let you know that you're really not the monster that you think you are."

She stayed silent. What could she say? Her head was swimming with ideas, but none of them really seemed fit. She thought that, if this day ever came, if somehow it came down to confessing her feelings for him, she'd know exactly what to say.

She really couldn't have been more wrong.

So, instead of speaking, she found herself simply staring at Bucky, into his eyes. Had he moved closer? Had she? Either way, their noses were soon bumping together and he was searching her face for any sign of disapproval, one that wasn't there, and so he kissed her.

She felt dizzy, lightheaded, like she couldn't quite figure out where her body ended and Bucky's began, and she didn't think she really wanted to. Lips on lips, his hand on her waist and hers roaming his hair, it felt like heaven.

She was on a high, he was too, and the comedown was breathless and just as euphoric as the real thing. "I love you too." Y/N said.

Bucky couldn't help the plainly stupid, goofy grin that had spread across his face. Did he look like an idiot? Unequivocally. Did he care? Maybe, but that wasn't the point.

"I should get back to my room." Y/N said quietly, a small smile on her lips. "Thanks for...uh, the talk."

Bucky laughed and let her get up, walk to the door and open it while he watched in a daze, and then he stopped her. "Let me walk you."

"I can handle myself."

"Oh, I know, sweetheart. But I'm not entirely sure that you should."

Really, she was already his girl. She always had been.

[spartanguard]

two doors down

Summary: Emma's just had her heart broken—again. But she's going to distract herself by finally going to her friends' party, two doors down from her apartment. The party—and the dashing gentleman she meets at it—prove to be just what she needed.

3.2k words | rated light M | AO3

A/N: Here I go again...back on my Dolly Parton bs. But I make no apologies because Dolly in an inspirational queen. I’ve wanted to write a one-shot based on Two Doors Down pretty much ever since I heard the song, and the @csconcertseries​ seemed like the right opportunity to scratch that itch. (and then Dumb Blonde demanded to be included as well because it’s a bop.) so...have fun!

“Really, Emma?” Walsh sneered when she confronted him. “You thought I was serious about you? I guess you really are a dumb blonde.”

In case anyone was wondering why Emma was crying, it was that. She shouldn’t be—it was dumb, he was dumb, not her—but that didn’t seem to matter, apparently. The asshole had somehow managed to find a crack in the walls around her beat-up, bargain store heart and, once inside, found an old bruise and punched it. Or something like that. She wasn’t great with words.

Or emotions, apparently, or men—though she was already aware of that one (thus: the walls). (Well, okay, and being abandoned by her parents and growing up in the shittier parts of the foster system. But that’s besides the point.) Anyways. She had thought that maybe, finally, she’d found one guy who wouldn’t hurt her—who was safe enough to consider giving her heart to. 

And then she’d caught him sleeping with a coworker. On a mattress in his furniture store. On their anniversary. 

And he apparently had the gall to call her dumb. What a dick.

After giving him the rightful slap he was due, she stormed out and ran home. Then she grabbed the wine she’d been saving for tonight, popped the cork, and drank right out of the bottle.

What a fucking loser.

(She wasn’t sure if that applied more to her, or to him.

Because, at the end of the night, she was the one drinking alone while he was probably still having too much fun on his own merchandise.) 

With about half the bottle gone, she finally hit the point where all her tears were gone and she was probably some level of dehydrated. Her apartment was eerily quiet without the sound of her sobs, it seemed, but she could hear loud music coming from down the hall. 

Oh yeah—Dave and Snow’s party.

They were her neighbors—well, they lived two doors down, but she definitely talked to them more than the grumpy dude who lived between them. They were easily the nicest, most outgoing people on the planet, and had been trying for as long as Emma had lived there to come over to one of their parties. 

Usually, Emma was able to use work as an excuse, or a date (like she was supposed to have had tonight), to explain why she couldn’t go. But it was really fear—fear of rejection, of not measuring up, of plain old awkwardness—that kept her away.

It always sounded like a good time, though, and she could hear the music pumping and people laughing whenever they hosted these get-togethers. Apparently, they were at the drunk-enough-to-sing-loudly part of the night, because she heard the lyrics perfectly as the crowd shouted them:

Just because I’m blonde, don’t think I’m dumb ‘Cause this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool

She laughed, albeit watery, at that, considering Dave was the blond of the two of them. But then she thought about it again, and what her ass of a now-ex had said: there was nothing dumb or foolish about Emma. Maybe she should have listened to that voice that had told her she was out of his league when he’d first asked her out, but right now, she just needed to tune out his grating words and focus on Dolly’s—about kicking trash to the curb and moving on.

And, you know what? She was gonna go to that party.

She blew her nose (rather noisily), then quickly washed her face and changed into something a little more presentable than her pajamas. She probably should be bringing something over, but her wine was gone and Walsh had drank the last of her beer the other night. She briefly considered the half-empty box of Pop-Tarts in her cupboard, but that was breakfast.

So, empty-handed as she was, she headed out the door, locked it, and wandered down the bit of hallway to the Nolan’s place. She could hear the sounds of revelry and pounding bass on the other side of the door, and was nervous—would they think she was intruding? Her knock was equally timid, and probably not even heard by the crowd inside. 

To her shock, though, the door was thrown open a few seconds later. “Emma! You came!” Snow shouted, then launched herself at Emma in an inebriated hug. “Oh, I’m so glad you finally made it! Where’s Walsh?”

Emma cringed, and not just from Snow’s alcohol-elevated volume. “He’s fucking his floor manager. So he’s busy. But I’m not now!” she added, trying to make it sound not terrible.

But Snow gasped anyways, covering her mouth in shock. She ushered Emma in, closing the door behind her, and then dragged her to the living room. “You need wine.”

“I had, like, half a bottle already.”

“Okay, well, you need more.”

“I won’t disagree.”

Snow left her in the middle of a throng of people that thankfully included David, who wrapped her into a bear hug (that only slightly smelled like beer—beer hug?) and made some introductions. Snow returned shortly with a pint glass full of pinot, and the next hour became a blur of booze and dancing. 

She quickly made friends with girls named Ruby and Belle who, once they heard about what had happened to Emma that day, got some shots involved. The music was a solid mix of girl power anthems (there may have been more screaming to “Since U Been Gone” and “Wannabe” from partygoers of all genders) and Emma found herself seriously wondering just what the hell she’d been doing the past few months—both with Walsh and in her avoidance of these parties; she was having way more fun here than she ever had with that douche.

Eventually, she did have to take a respite to visit the restroom and get some water—she wasn’t about to blackout over a breakup—but when she left the bathroom, she wasn’t watching where she was going and slammed into someone else.

“Woah—you alright, love?” the lilting voice attached to the firm body asked. She could feel his hand squeezing her shoulder, but given her very recent track record, was scared to look this guy in the eyes. The last thing she needed was a face as pretty as that accent, or as enticing as the bit of chest hair peeking out through his button-up, or as alluring as the scent of his cologne (which she got a good whiff of when her face collided with his chest).

“Seriously—are you okay?” He sounded so concerned—her head was moving before she could think otherwise.

And that was either the best thing she’d ever done, or the worst.

Dark, messy hair hung over his forehead, where thick brows were furrowed with worry. A strong nose pointed to full lips, surrounded by gingery scruff that led her mind other places. But his eyes—holy crap; even in the dimness of the hallway, they were a bright blue, and she’d had just enough to drink that she thought she just might be swaying along with the waves in their oceanic depths.

(She got poetic when she got drunk; this was a well-established fact.)

“Lass?” Oh god--she’d been staring, hadn’t she? 

“Fine! I’m fine. Sorry. Are you?”

“‘Fine’ is definitely something I’ve been called,” he quipped back, concern melting into cockiness with a wink.

Ugh, she didn’t need any more of that in her life. She rolled her eyes and stepped back, putting enough distance between them to not feel the warmth coming off of him (she was producing enough of that herself--or, at least, the shots of vodka were). “Good to know. I’m just gonna get back out there, then.” Avoiding his gaze, she did her best to slip around him in the narrow hallway.

“Wait,” he called out, and grabbed her wrist as she slipped by. “Sorry; that wasn’t very gentleman-like.” He was definitely being sincere, she could tell. “I, uh, I’m rusty at all this. Let me back up: I’m Killian; I’m a friend of Dave’s from college.”

Of course his name was sexy, too. He’d stuck his hand out amiably; she’d be the asshole not to take it. So she did. “Emma; I live a couple doors down.”

“Ahh, yes--I’ve heard of you: the mysterious neighbor,” he said, running his thumb over her knuckles. “Delighted to finally make your acquaintance.”

Who was this guy? And why did he talk like he had stepped out of a Jane Austen novel? “I bet you tell all the girls that.”

He shrugged. “There haven’t been any of those lately.”

“Guys, then?”

He laughed—a deep chuckle that she wouldn’t complain about hearing again. “No, none of those, either.”

“Good. They suck.”

“What, all of them?”

“Most of them.”

“Well, hopefully I find myself in the minority.” He was still holding her hand, and brought it to his lips to place a kiss on the back of it. Were it not for the slight shiver that went through her at that, she’d be running for the hills (or at least her own apartment); but she was usually good at spotting a lie, Walsh notwithstanding, and she could tell he meant it. 

“Wanna get a drink?” she asked, a bit breathless.

“Absolutely.”

They grabbed another round of wine and took a seat on the couch, which was somehow unoccupied—everyone was still busy dancing and drinking and socializing. Honestly, Emma was a little surprised that so many people fit in a two-bedroom apartment (but it wasn’t like she’d ever tried to have more than a couple people in hers). 

“So, what’s your story?” Killian leaned in close to ask. They were practically nose-to-nose in order to be heard over the music, but she didn’t mind it. And, for some reason, she found her entire life story spilling out to him; not even Walsh had learned everything: about growing up in the foster system, her first heartbreak and the baby she gave up, the reason she’d gone into bailbonds work (so people like Neal couldn’t continue to break hearts). Even the sordid tale of her very-recent breakup.

“He’s a right arse,” Killian said, clinking his glass with hers. “But I’m glad his absence has brought you into my presence.”

“Me too,” she said.

His past was equally tragic: mom died, dad left, then brother died; lost his hand, his girlfriend, and his naval career in the same accident; but he still got to work as an engineer, and still got to go sailing on the weekends.

“God, Killian...you poor thing,” was all she could say.

He averted his gaze—and was either blushing, or flushed from the alcohol and heat of the room—and just said, “It’s in the past, where it belongs. And, honestly, the future is looking pretty good right now.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, I hope so.”

She wasn’t bold enough to say it—or confident, given that she was just coming out of a relationship—but she was thinking that, too.

The music switched from girl pop to Disney tunes—it was only a matter of time, considering that Snow was only a few steps away from being an IRL Disney princess—which prompted a conversation about their favorite Disney films, then movies in general, then books and music and all sorts of things. It was casual and easy and, honestly, she didn’t think she’d ever connected with someone so quickly; not since she was a kid and still had some innocence about her.

A slow song came on, and Killian set down his empty glass. “Would you care to dance?”

She gaped a bit; no one had ever asked her that. “What—for real? To this?”

“You just told me you’d seen Enchanted, and I believe that’s what they did to this song. So yes: will you, Emma Swan, dance with me?”

Somewhere, lonely teenage Emma was yelling at her to say yes and fulfill all her wildest prom dreams. Oh, who was she kidding—grown-up Emma still had those dreams. “Yeah, I will.”

He stood and offered her his prosthetic hand; she set her empty glass aside and took it, then followed him up. Gently, he guided her to an empty spot in the room—about 2 feet away—and then put his hand on her waist; she was probably supposed to put hers on his shoulder or something, but she did the same (and definitely noticed the firmness of his core).

They didn’t have much room to move—Dave and Snow were making out a few feet away, as were Ruby and Belle, and another couple—but Killian somehow managed to perform some actual dance steps. 

“What the heck is that, and how do you know it?” she wondered aloud, trying to keep up.

“It’s called a waltz, and there’s only one rule,” he explained, then leaned in to whisper in her ear: “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

She’d definitely had a bit too much to actually memorize the steps, but she managed to keep up for a bit, until she lost her balance a bit after hitting the edge of the coffee table. Once again, she fell into his chest, but this time, he wrapped his arms tight around her to stabilize her—and she did the same.

“Is this a habit of yours?” he joked, but the twinkle in his eye told her that he wasn’t complaining.

“Just with you,” she tossed back.

“And what makes me so special?”

“You get it.”

He gave her a shy smirk that cut an adorable dimple into his scruff. 

And she couldn’t help it: she kissed it.

The wide-eyed stare he wore when she pulled back told her that it was as much a shock to him as it was to her; she never made the first move. But there was just something about him that made her want to throw caution to the wind—or maybe she just knew it was okay to do that with him. 

Feeling even bolder, she grabbed his shirt and pulled his lips down to hers. He didn’t hesitate to respond in kind and god, he was good: the right amount of pressure, the scratch of his beard, the feel of his hand on her back...oh man.

She normally wouldn’t have done what she did next—not when there were feelings involved, at least—but hey, it was a night for doing new things, right?

“Do you want to take this somewhere else?” she murmured when they eventually broke apart for air.

“Where did you have in mind?”

“My place.”

“Lead the way, love.”

It didn’t seem like anyone noticed as they slipped out, and she’d never managed to get her door open faster. It had just clicked shut before she was on him, pressing him back against it, her hands wandering over his upper body while her tongue picked up where their earlier dance had left off.

Her fingers found themselves near his belt, and before they went too far, his warm hand gently stilled hers. “Are you sure, love?” he asked, panting. “I...I don’t just want to be a rebound,” he confessed.

God, she hadn’t even thought of that. Walsh was already a distant memory. “I don’t want that, either.”

“Alright, then. Proceed.”

“God, you’re a dork.”

“Guilty.”

“Good thing I like it.”

Her lips found his again as her fingers danced over him, and his over her; a trail of clothing marked their path to her bedroom (with only a brief stop against the back of her couch), and they landed naked on her unmade bed.

His large hand and deft fingers found their way to her entrance and were lightly teasing it--the gentlest of brushes that nearly had her seeing stars, and definitely distracted her from fishing the condoms out of her bedside table.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not; might need an extra hand, though.”

She almost came back down to earth just to glare at him, but the cheesy grin he wore just made her laugh. It wasn't like she minded, anyway.

She used the opportunity to do a bit of foreplay herself, stroking his considerable length before, during, and after gliding the sheath on. The guttural groan he let out went straight through her.

Enough foreplay—she needed him. She grabbed his shoulders and pressed her chest against his; the brush of his chest hair against her nipples had her arching into him, and his hard cock was pressing right where she wanted him. “You ready?”

“Gods, yes,” he breathed.

And when they came together, she couldn’t remember anyone she’d ever been with before. She was completely aware of the hyperbole but honestly, he just felt so good inside her.

Then he moved, and she forgot her own name, and his, and anyone else’s.

She’d had the kind of sex before where time seemed to stop, but with Killian, it seemed to stop even longer, if that was possible; once they found their rhythm, every press of their hips brought her nearer and nearer to the edge of oblivion, but not so fast that she couldn’t enjoy it.

When she finally fell off, she hadn’t even realized she’d been that close—and let the waves of pleasure wash over her with abandon.

Killian wasn’t far behind her; she felt him still within her as he came with a shout. Normally, she’d be worried about how much noise they made, but she could still hear music coming from the Nolan’s; they were safe.

He collapsed beside her just long enough to catch his breath, then excused himself to clean up. God, he really was a gentleman; a lot of the guys she’d been with hadn’t been so polite about that. He came back a couple minutes later with a washcloth for her to use--seriously, no guy had ever done that. Then he flopped back on her creaky mattress and wrapped his left arm around her.

“You’re bloody incredible, love...and bloody gorgeous,” he said softly, then pressed a kiss on her bare shoulder.

“You’re no slouch, either,” she replied, and hoped the light was dim enough that he couldn’t see how furiously she was blushing. 

“You know...I almost didn’t go to the party tonight,” he said. “It was a long day and I wasn’t sure I felt up to people.”

“Yeah?” Logically, she knew other people had had shitty days, but it was easy to forget about in the face of her own. 

“I’m very glad I did, though,” he continued.

“So am I.”

He pressed a gentle kiss against her lips then, and pulled her a bit closer with his prosthesis. “Think we should head back?” he proposed.

“Mm, nah,” she answered. “They’ll have more parties.”

“Aye, they probably will.”

“And I like the one we’re having right now.”

“Mm, as do I.”

The other party continued into the wee hours of the morning, but Emma and Killian’s went even longer: all through the night, through part of the next day, and for a very, very long time thereafter.

Some time later, she heard that Dolly song again, and another set of lyrics stood out to her:

And you know if there's one thing this blonde has learned Blondes have more fun

She looked over at Killian and smiled; damn right they do.

-------------------------------------------------

thanks for reading! tagging some friends: @kat2609​ @thesschesthair​ @optomisticgirl​ @xpumpkindumplingx​ @shipsxahoy​ @amortentia-on-the-rocks​ @mryddinwilt​ @cocohook38​ @annytecture​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @distant-rose​ @wellhellotragic​ @welllpthisishappening​ @let-it-raines​ @pirateherokillian​ @bleebug​ @its-imperator-furiosa​ @fergus80​ @killianmesmalls​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @effulgentcolors​ @laschatzi​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​ @nfbagelperson​ @stubble-sandwich​​ @killian-whump​ @lenfaz​ @phiralovesloki​ @athenascarlet​ @kmomof4​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​

[nazyalenskyy-archive]

mini big bang!

written for the grishaverse mini big bang, run by @grishaversebigbang ​ 

Thanks to my other gang member’s @punchsomeoneforme-willyou ​ and @6crowgang ​ for their amazing art!! (x)  (x)

also known as i try to write crack. i also don’t know how to dye things or what the slat is like or what the van eck manor is like or if they have the word goth in grishaverse. I also don’t care. AND I don’t know how to put cuts in tumblr posts i’m very sorry.

At the time, letting Nina give out the dares had felt like a good idea. Now Jesper wasn’t sure he wanted to do any dare remotely involved with Kaz. She would have been better off getting Inej to do it, frankly. He was more suited to being a distraction – it was the charming personality no one could resist – and she was more suited to climbing into windows and sneaking around the slat. They’d been playing truth or dare and Nina’s idea – and it was brilliant – had been to dye the entirety of Kaz’s wardrobe a vibrant lime green. It would have their names written all over it of course, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be fun.

The lime green dye, that Inej had flatly refused to tell him where she procured, was carefully balanced in his outside pockets. Due to the colour of said jacket, spilling it was hardly a catastrophe, but it might ruin the prank. With some flimsy excuses and much avoidance Jesper finally reached the room where Kaz slept. The wardrobe, he discovered as he opened it, was full of Kaz’s typical black clothing. Saints, this would be hilarious. He frowned and pulled out a jacket of Kaz’s and tossed it onto the bed. It wasn’t exactly something you were ever taught – how to put dye onto clothing. Kaz’s whole wardrobe consisted of the black tailored suits he insisted on wearing ironically to spite mercher’s or whatever. It was terribly boring in Jesper’s opinion.

He sighed and glanced at the jacket on the bed. According to Inej, you had to get a bucket of water (prepared by the Wraith herself), squirt the dye in and then the clothes followed. Inej hadn’t sounded particularly sure. Eh, there wasn’t much to lose. Pulling the dye from his pocket and unscrewing the lid, he somewhat carelessly emptied it into the bucket in front of him. The green of the dye fused seamlessly into the water, it looked like magic. Maybe it was. He hoped Inej could keep Kaz distracted for long enough, and dropped the first piece of clothing in. At this point he was stuck, again. Did you just leave the clothing in there? Take it out instantly? Who could say? Staring at it was unfortunately not going to yield him any answers.

He was pretty sure he’d heard somewhere you were supposed to stir it too, but there wasn’t exactly anything to use. In the end, deciding he’d get the job done a bit quicker if he did three garments at a time, he just left each in for ten minutes. The first set didn’t look all too bad. Aside from the fact they were soaking (Jesper had hung them up on hangers in various places on the top floor of the slat which was still mercifully quiet), they definitely looked like some form of green. After an hour of somewhat boring dyeing of clothes Jesper was satisfied Kaz had nothing left in his wardrobe that wasn’t at least a little bit green. The boredom would be worth it for the look on his face, which Jesper would be preferably seeing from a distance.

Grinning, he made to leave but instantly stopped in his tracks. There were footsteps. Kaz. Followed by laughter. Not Kaz. He breathed a sigh of relief and popped his head around the door.

“Inej?” He frowned as she and Nina reached the top of the stairs and  slid past him into the room holding arms full of red and purple dye. “Nina?”

“We thought we should help,” Inej said, casting a pitying look at Kaz’s room. “But it looks like you have it covered.” Her eyes caught onto one of Kaz’s suits, which was now drying and proving to be a very neon shade of green, and she burst out laughing. “He’s going to me so mad.” Jesper and Nina both snorted.

“I would have liked to see him in a pink suit too,” Jesper mused, eyeing the dye Nina was holding. He scanned the room for something else to dye and found the stack of paper on Kaz’s desk. Nina grinned.

“Anyone know how to dye paper?” she queried and went over to the stack. They did not, but the concept of Kaz sending all his letters and memos and doing his paperwork on bright pink paper was far too much of an opportunity to pass up. So they could at least try.

Nina tried squirting the dye on the paper. It didn’t go well. Inej just dropped it straight in the bucket. That didn’t yield much either. It was finally Jesper who tried using the sink and slowly dipping the paper into the dye. It truly was vibrant pink. Brilliant.

“Pink paper is the only proper way to send threatening correspondence,” Nina remarked approvingly. Jesper turned to Inej, but she was gone. All that was left were a set of purple footprints where she’d been.

“Oh saints, Nina,” He pointed to them, and for a moment considered being concerned. But honestly, it just added to the joke. With a glance at his own shoes he realised they were coated in the garish green paint he’d begun with.

“You know,” She said slowly, eyebrow raised, “This, this could definitely be exploited.” Both red and pink dye was very abundantly on the side of Nina’s boots. They were not experts in cautiousness, clearly. She ran out the room and back in, leaving reddish footprints in her wake. The wooden floor of the slat was in dire need of a spruce up.

The two of them followed Inej’s purple footprints down the trailing stairs, and Jesper couldn’t help but wonder why she’d left. Then it hit him.

“If you and Inej are here, who’s distracting Kaz?” He frowned, Nina looked a little guilty.

“We didn’t want to miss all the fun.” She admitted.

“It's hardly fun! I was not especially good at that dying business. It's more complicated than it looks. And it took me ages.” He grumbled.

“Sorry,” She muttered. “But that’s a good point. No one is distracting Kaz.”

“Brilliant.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Jesper couldn’t resist a glance back at the stairs, now coated in gaudy dyes. Anika was leaning against the wall ahead of them, a very confused look on her face. Jesper merely grinned, and Nina put a finger to her lips. Jesper barely had time to blink, before Inej slid soundless around the corner and stood in front of them.

“Kaz is on his way back. Closet.” She said quickly. Then glanced at the floor. “Actually, run around a bit first.”

So, looking undoubtably extremely stupid, they began do run in circles around the floor. It was coated in multicolour by the time Inej finally usher them towards the closet that Jesper wasn’t entirely sure was supposed to be there.

“Go on! He’ll be here soon. It will be boring if he sees us before the rest of it.”

Jesper looked warily at the closet. It didn’t look like all three of them would fit.

“Please just get in the closet.”

“Oh not again,” He muttered before he could stop himself. Inej pulled the door shut from the inside, somehow, and Jesper had been right. It was a little left of comfort. Not that he would have wanted to be anywhere else the moment Kaz walked through that door. The look on his face, which Jesper could just about see between the doors of the closet, was priceless.

“What the fuck?” Kaz spluttered. It was all Jesper could do to not burst out laughing. Kaz began to angrily head towards the stairs, and by the time he was halfway up, Inej, Jesper and Nina had slipped away into Ketterdam.

***

They’d been out for waffles, as a celebration for their hard work. None of them could be bothered to go back to the Van Eck Manor straight away, and well, this was fun.

“Maybe we should have painted the bedsheets in the shape of a waffle,” Nina mused, as she finished second plate. Inej glanced at the various plates that had once had waffles on them scattered across the table.

“Maybe, but I think eating them is more fun.” Nina nodded in agreement.

“What do you think he’ll do?” Jesper mused.

“He’ll either not speak to us for a week, or Inej’s boat and your house will be bright orange by the time we get back. It’s a toss up.” Nina shrugged.

“I could live with the house being orange. Not sure what Wylan would think…”

“I could build a brand out of an orange boat,” Inej added.

“Not exactly scary though is it. Not instilling fear into the hearts of your enemies. Oh dear god, here comes the fearsome captain Inej Ghafa and her orange boat.” Jesper snorted.

“Hey!” Inej protested, snatching a waffle from his plate. “I’m plenty scary enough myself.”

“You sure are, that was my waffle!”

“Care to steal it back?” She smirked, taking a bit. He did not.

They probably kept the waffle place open past the closing time, and by the time they trudged back to manor sometime that evening, Nina’s predictions were almost true.

Wylan stood outside the manor, arms folded and a sceptical look on his face. He looked quite cute if you asked Jesper, if a little annoyed. The manor looked fine from the outside. Same as it always was.

“Did you think it would be funny to provoke Kaz so much that I return home to an entirely different coloured house?” He grumbled as they approached.

“I feel like I’m being berated by a puppy,” Nina remarked and Wylan glared at her.

“Oh come on merchling, it can’t be that bad?” Jesper raised an eyebrow, but the look on Wylan’s face suggested otherwise. To be fair, he’d made a similar face when Jesper had been trailing green around the house that morning.

“Kaz has Gothified the house,” Wylan retorted, pushing open the door. Jesper blinked incredulously. The entire thing was a strange shade of black grey that completely sucked the colour out of it. Again trailing green footprints around the place, he dashed through the house. Room after room was the same. Hell, even the food was dyed. Or painted. Whatever this was.

It would have been funny, if it wouldn’t be so bloody hard to undo.

“How did he manage this?” Nina was saying incredulously as he returned. “We were only gone a few hours.” Inej looked smug.

“What did you do Wraith?” Jesper asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at her.

“A magician never reveals their secrets. Kaz won’t, and nor will I,” She retorted smugly. Behind him, he heard Wylan snort.

“You complained when I put a few footprints in the house this morning,” Jesper protested. “Now the whole house is painted.”

“Well, you could put them in now. It might add character.” Even Jesper had to snort at that. He glanced at the black bucket of dye left outside the door, and he could have sworn he’d heard a click of Kaz’s cane in the distance.

“Very subtle,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“This is insane,” Nina said pointedly to Inej.

“Maybe so,” The smaller girl said, but she was grinning.

Behind them, Jesper heard a muttered “Demjin.”

He didn’t know where Matthias had come from, but maybe this time he was right.

[louvel-roche]

24. — agony

Stillness. Silence. Louvel found himself with his own thoughts, free of the endless din of the Flock. How long would this last? Would he be able to keep this freedom? The birds had not come calling, but he assumed it was only a matter of time. For now those voices were gone, and he intended to keep it that way.

There was one voice that was missing that shouldn’t be though. One that had been missing for a while now, and it was the one he wanted to hear. The Abyss was quiet. Even before the ink the darkness had been there, murmuring in the back of his head, whispering into his ears. Now it was silent. Even with Vulture removed, the Abyss had not risen to take its rightful place again. 

Why? Louvel couldn’t help but ask himself. He could still feel it. That weight was still there upon his shoulders. That unsettling itch behind his eyes. That rattle in his ribcage. He knew it was still there, deep seeded. One was never free from the Abyss; there was no unseeing it once you had decided to look in.  Yet still it remained silent.

For days.

Sennights.

Moons.

Solitude. Isolation. Silence. Louvel paced through his home, hands tracing rough familiar walls. He could finally settle back into this dwelling again, free from prying eyes and ears. And yet that silence had grown suffocating. What could be done? What might bring back that all too familiar murmuring in the back of his head?

It was only after a line of Serendipity that he’d lay himself down to rest, knowing full well he wouldn’t be dreaming. Any other time he wouldn’t have bothered; rest rarely came easy, but for once there was a goal beyond a failed attempt to sleep. How long had it been, since he settled into that meditative state? When was the last time he had willingly walked through the Abyss?

Familiarity washed over him in waves, rolling like water over his skin and drowning his senses in free falling oblivion. Bottomless. Empty. Darkness unending surrounded him. With every inhale the air grew heavy, smothering, drawing everything to a stop; and every exhale ushered in that falling sensation once more. 

Silence wrapped around him, coiling up to his throat and flooding his ears. Something about it made his skin crawl. Something in the dead air around him brought a sense of unease. All he could hear was the pulse in his chest, and with it a slow growing ring. There had always been sound here, voices whispering in the distance. Even if he couldn’t understand them, they were still there. Now they were gone. He had nothing to chase in the dark. 

How long would this last? Was this how things would be forever? It made no sense. Perhaps he was being impatient. So he’d wait, feet firmly planted, eyes cast out to the endless void around him. His ears poised to hear something other than his own heartbeat.

“Was it worth it?”

That gentle baritone pressed up against Louvel with all the discomfort of having someone in his space without directly touching him. Unwanted hands hovering over skin. Hearing his own voice here was unfamiliar and more unnerving than he had expected.

“Do you miss the lie you were living?” The dark spoke again when no response came for the first inquiry. 

“No.” Louvel ushered the word off his lips with barely a second thought. “I don’t.”

“You should have known better than to trust a parasite to help us.”

“I had thought -” 

“No, Little Wolf, you didn’t think. Therein lies the problem. After all I have done for you, you repay me by allowing that thing to use me. To use us.”

“It was a means to an end that was worth it at the time.”

“Was it? Was it truly worth being a pawn for their amusement? Was it worth making enemies of those around you? Was it worth the danger you’ve put the Moon in?”

No answer came. How could he answer any of that? He didn’t know, and he knew well enough that wouldn’t be a satisfactory answer. 

“I am done sitting by watching you make a mess of everything. I want out of this cage you’ve put me in. Fix this.” 

“What cage?” The notion that this thing was restrained seemed so alien to him. Had it not always been here, free to speak? Free to act?

“You have snuffed out everything I needed to help you. To help us. You’ve taken away everything I could have used to do the things you were too weak to. I have only ever wanted to help, and you have trapped me here, and left me starving. Fix this.”

“I don’t-” No. He knew exactly what the voice meant. He knew it in the impact of his pulse and in the twisting, writhing unease in the core of his being. In that smothering, all encompassing numbness that he had known for so long. He knew what should have fed the darkness, and what it was he lacked.

“Fix this.”

“I will.”

“Fix this.”

“I’m trying.”

“Fix this!”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Fix this!”

“I need more time!”

“Fix this!”

“What if I can’t?!” Louvel shouted into the endless abyss around him, the words echoing into the empty expanse, drawing acute attention to every terrified note. Every syllable sounded so authentic yet none of that fear truly seeped into him. It was a possibility he never wanted to acknowledge, a potential reality he never wanted to live in. It was a question he had avoided for so long. “What if I can’t..?” It tasted bitter on his tongue the second time, sinking in deep as if simply saying it made it real, made it a genuine factor he had to face.

Silence once more wrapped around him, bringing a cold crawl of goosebumps up his limbs. Still all he could see was darkness, yet he could feel the air around him shifting. Louvel could feel something moving endlessly just out of sight. Always at the fringes, always just at the edge of his peripheral. 

It hit with the startling impact of a hammer strike, yet it was something so small. So harmless. A drop onto his shoulder that made him flinch. One, then two. The third coaxed the pooled liquid to roll free on down his chest where a hand lifted to meet it. The deep crimson coating his fingers was a strangely welcomed contrast to the overabundance of shadows he was encased in. More droplets rained down onto him, and for a moment, he could swear he felt something breathing down his neck. 

Don’t. 

Don’t move.

Don’t look.

Don’t breathe.

Against every instinctual alarm bell ringing in the back of his mind, Louvel shifted upon his feet, twisting to peer up at a snarling lupine visage. The beast stared down at him, with eyes mirroring the blue and yellow of his own, baring blood soaked teeth still endlessly dripping. There was something wrong with those fangs. Something terribly off about the set and shape of each one. It was all wrong, and much too familiar.

Pulling lips back further from those teeth, The Wolf’s snarl grew, and it did not stop. The skin and shadowy wisps of fur peeled back in sinewy layers until there was naught left but scales, horns, and those still dripping teeth. 

Louvel knew them; each and every one of those sharp, jagged fangs still soaked with blood. His blood. He didn’t have to look up any further to see it. He didn’t have to face it directly to know. That dragon stared down at him with one eye, and unspeakable malice. It exhaled another downpour of blood and with it came the slow bloom of pain. 

A hand lifted to feel at one of the sources of that growing torment, and where Louvel expected to find scar tissue, instead his fingers sank into his flesh until they hit his breastbone. The following cough that cracked out of his lungs was nothing short of involuntary, painting his lips and teeth with a spray of blood to match the unending fountain of crimson that looming head bared in its snarl. 

Like reliving each and every sensation from that moment in slow motion, he could feel the growing pressure around his ribs. He could feel the burrowing of teeth into skin, and he could feel the crack of bone after bone, the grinding scrape of those misplaced jagged pieces bringing a nauseating itch to the pit of his ears. He couldn’t fathom how it was he managed to stay on his feet or why he wasn’t screaming. Surely, there had to be a way to make it stop.

“Fix this.” The darkness breathed, ushering in the oppressive, painfully nostalgic cold of Coerthas to add more discomfort to this reliving memory.

“I don’t know if I can.” Honest, mournful words. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt something so real, and somehow, it hurt more than the punctures those teeth had left in him and it sank deeper than the cold laced around his limbs.

  T̷̺͎̖͉͓̱̪̗͕̳̖̥͙͈̓́̍͂̈̑̇́̿̈́̌̕͝͝h̴̲̣̙̼͉̘͈͚͕̥͓͓̪̅̀̅̔̇̍̂̇̚͝e̸̡̛͕̠̘͓̩̮͚̩̬̾̈͌ņ̶̨̛̥̝͓͉͔̘͕̪̣̼̲̮̝̗̫̺̾̃̃͊̋̍̒̃͂̓̿͌̌͝͠͝ ̸̢̣̫̥̹̳͉̞̘̤̳͛̔́̌͑s̵̢̢͖̹̤̺͍͉͎̞͉͇̖͍̖̲͔̲̬̈́̏̓̏͊̔́̒̽̍̒̀̈́̋̃̃͛̚͝ͅŭ̶̡͚̣̼̫̬͖̤̻̺̈͛́͑ͅf̵̙̮̙̟̠̲̯̀̒͘f̴̢̡̟͖̳͚͈͍̝͕́͆̔̌̎͑̒͜͠ë̶̡̨̟͎̖͚̩̫̫̬̰̈́͜͜ŗ̴̛̘͖̦͉̟̱͕̼̪̘̗̩̱̩͖̲̈́͗͌͐͊̊̔̓͒̃̿͛̚͜͝       

    Everything shook with the sudden roaring cacophony of a hundred incoherent voices. Booming, muted, distorted, hitched, crackling, trembling. Friends, lovers, enemies, family. They screamed. They all screamed.

Louvel barely had time to clamp his hands over his ears. Barely had the focus to notice those jaws before him open. The solid ground below his feet gave way to an empty void, and those teeth came for him as he fell into oblivion. They came for him, and they stopped his fall. 

With a jolt he was awake again.

Louvel tried to gasp, tried to fill tight lungs only to find himself choking on the very air they already carried. Panic held tight to his chest like a vice. Like dragon teeth. He could feel them. He could still feel each one buried in his flesh and bones. 

Hands grasped at skin; nails tore at scar tissue. Those fangs were still there. Everything in him hurt. Make it stop. He had to make it stop. Frantic, wild; it was a feverish fit as he struggled to breath and fought to rid himself of this torment. If only he could claw those phantom teeth out of his flesh.

Finally a full fresh rush of air filled his lungs. 

Finally he was able to breathe. 

Finally his lungs were freed just enough from the weight of panic. 

Finally.

He could howl in agony.

( So this is like, months over due, but at least it’s done now. Ty for the ask! )

[stories-sometimes]

Bedtime Stories

40s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You tell your son the story of his father.

Word Count: 1972

Masterlist

~~~

“Can you tell me about Dad?” Her eight year old son asks as she tucks him into his bed. She was aware that this question would come eventually, but wasn’t fully prepared for it. She waits a second before starting the story, composing herself.

“He was an amazing man, one of the bravest people I’ve met. And he fought for us and everyone else you know to have a safer life. He was fiercely loyal, protected those around him. Sometimes he could come off as cocky, but really it was a facade, he was nothing like that once you knew him.” She smiles at his memory, thinking back to the time she first met him. Initially she wasn’t fond of him, brushing him off as another arrogant ladies man, used to getting his way with a few smooth words.

~~~

“What’s a pretty dame like you doing here all alone.” She heard his voice for the first time. She'd gone to the dance hall with her friend, although the girl soon abandoned her for a date. She opted to reside at the edge of the room, perched on a bench wishing she’d stayed at home. She looked up to see him. He was tall, well dressed, too handsome for his own good. She'd seen guys like him before, overly-confident, a new girl every week - she was determined not to be one of them.

“Trying to avoid guys like you.” She retorted.

“Well what’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, a smirk growing as he sat down next to her.

“I’ve dealt with guys like you too many times, you play around with all the girls, but never stick around. You sir, are a heartbreaker.” He gasped, placing his hand over his heart, feigning hurt.

“How do you know that? You’ve only just met me.”

“You look the type.”

“Tell me about that type.”

“They’re always tall, strong,” She said, running her hand up his muscular arm, just because she didn’t want to be with him didn’t mean she couldn’t tease him a little. “Far too good-looking.” That boosted his ego, she reached up a little so she could whisper her last point in his ear, “and they know exactly what to say to get any girl on their knees.” His breath hitched as she sat back down. It became her turn to smirk, knowing she'd got him to react how she wanted.

“You doll are a grade-A tease.” He replied in an attempt to regain his composure and the upper-hand.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m just saying what I see.” She continued the teasing.

“So you’re saying I could get you on your knees.” He grinned, clearly enjoying where this conversation was going. She looked him up and down, smiling without giving him a definite answer. She kept the innocent look in her eyes she’d managed to master, conflicting with the flirtatious smile on her face.

“You’re trouble,” He stated, she cocked her head to the side, keeping up the sweet act, “don’t pretend you don’t know it. Bet you leave a trail of hearts in your pretty little wake.”

“Your compliments aren’t gonna work on me.”

“Worth a shot. But don’t try to change the subject. You’re the kind of girl who acts all innocent, sitting here, looking all gorgeous. When in reality you’re as bad as the guys who chase after you.” She smiled subconsciously, unsure of how she should’ve reacted.

“You’ve read me wrong.” She responded.

“Have I?” He brought back that smirk. “How about I get you a drink?”

“I’d love one.” He left to grab them, but she’d vanished before he returned.

~~~

“The second time I saw him I decided to give him a chance, best decision I ever made.”

~~~

She strolled into her usual cafe, ordering a drink before settling into a seat. Only a few minutes had passed before she heard the door chime, she glanced to see who’d come in. Shit. It was the man from the dance hall, accompanied by a smaller man. She immediately looked away from them, praying he wouldn’t notice her. Just her luck, they had sat directly behind her, the only silver lining being that the man was faced away from her, less likely to spot me if she didn’t draw any attention to herself.

“I’m tellin’ you Steve she was perfect.” She overheard him say to his friend. 

“Bucky you just meet her, you don’t even know her name.” So that’s his name.

“And still she hasn’t left my mind. She was like my perfect dream, looked like an angel and knew exactly what to say. But she disappeared too soon.”

His friend groaned, “Why are you gettin’ all dizzy over a girl who clearly isn’t that into you?”

“If you saw her and she talked to you like she did, you’d get where I was coming from.” She listened intently to the rest of their chat. Maybe she was wrong about him, maybe he wasn’t the player she thought he was, maybe she could try it out. Fuck it, she was gonna give him a chance. She scribbled down my name and home’s telephone number, dropping it down in front of Bucky as she walked out. She winked playfully over her shoulder as he recognised her, watching starstruck, but still she didn’t stay as long as he would’ve wanted.

“Who isn’t that into me now.” She heard him brag to his friend as she walked out the door. She giggled, a stupid grin grew on her face. He wasn’t so bad.

She got my first call that evening.

“Hey doll, it’s Bucky.”

“Hey mister, someone’s impatient, couldn’t even wait 24 hours to call.”

“What can I say, you’ve sure as hell left an impression on me. Have you eaten yet?”

“No, not yet.” She replied.

“Good, cause I’m taking you out.”

“And why would you think I’d say yes?”

“You wouldn’t have given me your number if I didn’t have a chance, plus I’m paying for your food.” There he went again with the confidence.

“Alright then.”

“Yes!” She heard an over-excited shout down the phone line.

“But only because I want a free meal.”

“I’m sure that’s why. I’ll pick you up at eight.” She gave him my address before she hung up. Sge searched through her wardrobe to find a suitable enough outfit, suddenly caring about what he thought about her. When eight rolled around she found herself far more excited then she thought she'd be. He knocked on the door, looking as dashing as ever.

“Hey doll, you ready.”

“Guess if I have to be.” She shrugged, lying through her teeth, this is exactly where she wanted to be.

“How long are you gonna play hard to get, you like me enough to agree to a date, but still you act like you don’t want me.” He smirked, watching as her cheeks started to glow red.

~~~

“He took me out for a meal, then we walked around in the moonlight for hours. Everything felt so perfect, we were young, happy and fell in love faster than I ever thought I possibly could. He would keep his friends safe as well. You know Captain America wasn’t always as strong as he used to be.”

“Really.” Her son says, looking confused.

“He used to be this skinny, sickly little kid. But that didn’t stop he standing up to anyone he saw treating people wrong. Your Dad was constantly pulling him out of fights. ” She stands up, grabbing an old photo album from the hallway. “There he is.” She points to a much smaller Steve.

“No way.” It was a picture of them at a carnival, Steve was awkwardly smiling next to her whilst she had a bright grin plastered on her face, holding onto a large teddy from one of the booths. “That’s my bear.” He says, pulling it from the side of his bed and into his chest.

“Your Dad won that for me and I know he would have wanted you to have it. He was so excited when he found out about you.”

~~~

She knocked on Bucky’s door, shaking with nerves. It was confirmed - she was pregnant. A little scandalous, they were engaged but not yet married, she knew some would look down upon it. It was due to a celebration from when he proposed, both too caught up in the excitement of the moment to remember to stay safe. Don’t get her wrong, she wanted a family with him. But with a war arising around the corner it didn’t seem like the best time to bring a child in the world.

“Hey doll,” He smiled seeing me, but his expression turned sour as he saw her shake. “What’s wrong.” He ushered her into his house.

“I’ve got something to tell you.” The anxiety building up in him was clear.

“You’re not breaking up with me.” He whispered, looking terrified.

“God no,” She paused, mentally preparing myself, “I’m pregnant.” His face froze, staying deadly still for an uncomfortable amount of time, “Bucky, please respond.” She whispered, showing the fear in my voice.

“I’m gonna be a dad.” He murmured softly. She nodded. “I’m gonna be a dad.” He said louder this time, his face growing brighter, “I’m gonna be a fucking dad!” He was shouting now.

“Yes, you’re gonna be a dad.” She laughed, reassured by this reaction. He grabbed her around the waist, picking her up and spinning here around. She shrieked. “Bucky, put me down.” She said, lightly punching on his shoulders.

“Right, gotta be careful, there’s a baby in there.” He said, placing his hands over her stomach, barely able to contain his smile. He rested his forehead on hers letting her stare into his blue eyes. “I love you so much.”

~~~

“Then he left for the war, it was difficult but we wrote to each other as much as two people possibly could. I’ve kept every last one.” She says, thinking of the box she had stuffed under her bed since the day Bucky left. She pauses glumly, “then one day they just stopped, he was gone. Steve had left, I had no contact with him, I was all alone. It felt as though that side of my life had been completely cut off.” She looks up to be met by her son’s sympathetic eyes, resting his hand over hers as a show of comfort. “But one day he appeared, he was saved by Captain America. I got a letter telling me he was safe, that he was being promoted to work with Steve and other elite soldiers. I thought we were gonna have that perfect life we’d always dreamt of.”

“What happened?” He whispers softly, watching as tears well in her eyes.

“Life doesn’t always work out how we want it to.”

“Where’s he now?”

“He’s up in the stars, with all the other heroes, he protected those around him for all his life, and if he was still here, he’d be out fixing the world as best as he could.” She saw her son glancing up at her, a slight wonder flickering through his eyes.

“Am I like him?”

“You have his eyes,” It was true, he was the spitting image of his father, the blue eyes and dark hair, the same cheeky, boyish smile he pulls when he knows he’s in trouble, “and you treat those you love with as much care as he did.” She saw the signs of a protective friend, the way he would scare off the bigger kids on the playground when he saw them picking on someone who couldn’t defend themselves. “I love you kiddo, now go to sleep.” She say playfully, kissing his forehead as he yawns sleepily.

“Night mum.” He says as she reaches his door.

“Goodnight James.”

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Langdon’s Test

Pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!Reader 

Words: 2.3k 

Summary: (requested)  Reader loses her virginity to none other than the anti-Christ himself, Michael Langdon

Warnings: SMUT, oral, unprotected sex, fluff, short time jumps (***)

A/N - This is my first ever imagine for Michael Langdon, sorry if it isn’t as amazing! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK if you can :)

Outpost 3 was not at all what you had thought it would be: luxury, grand nor splendid. In fact it was most miserable, particularly with the company of strangers that you’d grown accustomed to. Each of them had their flaws and their strengths, though mostly their flaws. The starvation, the boredom and the sheer eeriness of your newly found home, was taking a toll on everyone. It hadn’t helped either that you were part of the greys: used consistently by the rich, by those with perfect genetic composition, and by the one and only Miss Venable had at first been unbearable. Now that weeks had past to months, you’d grown accustomed to the schedule, which if you looked at it in a positive limelight was of most need, as it kept you busy throughout the day, contrast to the purples who simply whined day and night, about the same thing repeatedly. Them just simply reminiscing how amazing life was before the nuclear attacks, how they wished they’d have perished, too ungrateful to have survived.  Nothing had changed for a while…

That was until the screeching sounds of the sirens had rung, the red lights beaming through the hallways, as Miss Mead and her counterparts bustled through each room, advising everyone to remain in their designated rooms. As each hour had passed, your anticipation grew louder and louder, your patience beginning to run thin. A sudden knock to your door triggered your head to snap towards its direction, anxiously awaiting for an intruder to burst through, your breath hitched, unable to even question who it was…Though yet again, why would an intruder knock?

“Get up, we’re about to be serving dinner!” Roared Miss Mead’s familiar, agonising voice.

Instinctively you lifted yourself from the discomfort of your small bed, reflecting over yourself in the mirror, ensuring your grey dress was proper and that your hair was kept tidy, before sighing away, wanting nothing more than to isolate yourself for the night, if it meant avoiding the criticism of your new-found family. Serving the freshly cooked stew, the pungent smell instantly preventing you to eat, as you served the plates to each purple, you stood as far as possible in the corner away from the repulsive aroma. 

“So who’s in your office?” Emily intrigued.

“I beg your pardon?” Miss Venable snapped, unaccustomed to inexcusable behaviour.

“The alarms went off before someone came inside” Emily persisted, ardently trying to uncover the truth, that no one else seemed bothered by.

“Who else is here?” Timothy ushered.

“All questions will be answered in due course…Now eat” Venable retorted, her stern tone signalling everyone to lift the lids of their bowls, only to be greeted face to face with the disguise of the Devil himself…

***

The unexpected fright everyone had uncovered during dinner, left everyone in shock: including yourself. How the snakes had managed to penetrate their way through the walls and into the facility, greatly puzzled you. But you’d hoped all would be answered, since Miss Venable has advised everyone to move through to the living room: prepared to inform us all of our unforeseen guest. Standing beside the entry, the dissonant sound of closing footsteps against the silence, made your heart race. Each exhilarating beat grew strenuous, as the footsteps closed the distant between the guest and you, until from the side view of your eye, a tall figure came to a halt beside you. Exhaling calmly, your face slightly began to turn towards the stranger, attempting best not to stir his attention unto you: you had to see that you failed in doing so. His piercing gaze, his fixated mesmerising blue eyes that were accentuated by the glimmer of red eye-shadow, were already focused unto you: a wave of curiosity filtered through your body…You swore you’d witnessed a faint smirk growing on his face, before he continued to walk through the crowd overtaking Miss Venable’s position in front of the smoking fireplace.

“My name is Langdon and I represent the cooperative. I won’t sugar-coat the situation…Humanity is on the brink of failure…However, I’ve been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us, in the sanctuary…To see if you belong” He retorted, as his gaze since travelling from person to person laid directly unto you…Still, you felt a sense of intrigue as to who he was, his purpose figured: though the idea of being tested by him alone, was deeply intimidating.  

“I volunteer to go first!” Mr Gallant exclaimed, raising his hand into the air with enthusiasm, knowing for certain that he’d be begging to secure a spot in the sanctuary for himself, and himself only…

Typical, you thought. At this point, you’d known for certain that the likelihood of you leaving the outpost, only to survive in the security of the sanctuary was minimal… A grey compared to a room full of purples, the ones that were left the responsibility to procreate a civilised society were greatly against your favour. Your hope to be completely entrusted in the hands of Langdon, and the sheer thought of that, finally sent the overdue shivers crawling down your spine.

***

Walking through the office that had previously been occupied by Miss Venable, left you shuddering with curiosity. You were one of the last remaining candidates left to be interviewed, or more so ‘tested’, and each person you witnessed that had left the interview, except for Coco, who simply remained as arrogant and as shallow as she had been since she entered, was changed. Each person left with a blank expression, left all tensed and rigid and bombarded by their own concerning thoughts. You’d been worried that some sort of physical experiment was to be fulfilled, that would leave you as blank as a vegetable.

“Y/n, is it?” the familiar voice retorted, behind you, as the doors finally shut before you.

“Yes” you uttered, making your way over to the seat near the fire, distancing yourself from Langdon as much as possible, without seeming too anxious. Although, seeing as he’d edged closer, seating directly opposite of you, you knew your plans had backfired.

“You see I have a talent…Call it a night vision of the soul. I can see into the dark places that people desperately try to keep hidden.”

“And this relates to me, how exactly?” You question, confused as to how his revelation about himself, was needed as part of the examination with you.

“I know what it is you want. What it is that you’ve undoubtedly been trying to hide behind that brave facade of yours. I know that your intrigued about me, yet scared. Having been with these people for the last 18 months, the idea of meeting a stranger now seems more daunting than evee. So let me make this as clear as I can be… I want to know as much about you, just as you want to know as much about me.”

Inhaling the deepest breath of fresh air, failed in relieving the nervous conscious growing within you. Surely there was no hiding any secrets now, you felt completely exposed both body, mind and soul were completely at the reach of his hands. His instant action, lifting himself off the seat, only to edge closer to you before kneeling down, aligning his face closely to yours, had you never felt fear as much as you did now.

“Still trying to be brave?” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. You’d never had so many mixed emotions gush through your body.

“What is it that you exactly want, Mr Langdon? Cause I see no point in interviewing a grey if there are no more spots left for the sanctuary” you exclaim, you breath hitching mid-sentence, only to have hastily redeemed yourself.

“So persistent you are…Unlike any of the others. What makes you think there aren’t any spots left?” he chuckled, before returning to his seat opposite of you. Before you could even formulate an answer, the topic had rapidly changed and to much of your surprise, sex was it.

“Would you consider the possibility of fucking me, Miss Y/L/N?”

“If need be…For the sake of humanity: I-I’d have no choice.” You answer, having a great certainty that his arrival was simply to seek ideal candidates necessary for procreation.

“But if you were, if you had a choice…Would you find me to be an ideal partner?” He demanded, hone becoming firmer, as he raised himself once again off the seat.

“Perhaps…” you whisper, your eyes lingering over his towering figure, as his steps grew closer to you, closing the tension between, until he stood behind you.

“Then prove it to me…” he uttered, as his large hands moved down grasping your breasts delicately, causing you to breathlessly moan.

Your body instinctively raised itself from the seat, turning to face Langdon, before you both no longer withstood the hesitation. His luscious lips plummeting unto yours, his arms gliding their way unto your hips, as his steps guided yours. His hands hastily gripped your ass, as he lifted you slightly from the ground, only to place you before the desk. Breaking off the longing kiss, his hands gently clasped your flustered cheeks, staring intently into your e/c eyes.

“I’m your first, aren’t I?” he breathlessly exhorted, your eyes remaining fixated onto his lips, as you nodded against his words: only to resume back to kissing. Your fingers gliding through his long, soft hair, tugging at it as you pressed his face down against yours, deepening the kiss. His lips once again parting from yours- “Off” he instructed, his attention diverting unto your grey apparel, which you immediately began to undress: not wanting to displease your superior.

Taking a step back, only for him to scan and process every inch, every detail, every flaw of your body his eyes lusting with hunger, seemingly wanting to devour you and only you. His eyes growing with infatuation the longer he remained observing you head to toe, only meet your attention once more. Licking his lips, as he stepped closer to you, one hand managed unzipping the traditional, black pants he wore, finally revealed his bulging manhood, that you felt was what had evidently been stroking your thighs, just minutes ago.

Before you knew it, having been immensely distracted by the way his hands snaked through your body, unto your thighs, spreading them wide: you helplessly felt utterly submissive towards him. Your cum already oozing from past your thighs unto his fingers, as he released his lips from yours, whilst aligning his cock against your walls, his tongue began to lick through his dripping fingers, making sure he took every inch of you in: wanting to refine this moment.

The entry of his thick manhood inside you, left you instinctively inclined to embrace him, grabbing his shoulders through the velvet jacket for balance, as he smoothly began to pace himself.

“Cum for me, princess. Prove how much you want me, how much you need me.” He groaned, as he movements began to quicken: leaving you uncontrollable and vulnerable against his stature, as moans consistently left your mouth.

“Langdon” you whimper, only to be answered by his deep, hoarse groans: the table beneath you felt was sure to collapse at any second.

“Cum, princess”

And as he commanded, you no longer could refuse the pleasure of his manhood throbbing within you. Your juices gushing over his cock, causing him to helplessly relieve himself with a slight moan. Still he remained buried inside of you, knowing well enough that in turn he’d return the favour. After your cum had painted over his manhood, some of the juices spilling through unto your thighs, his dick finally relieved its tension, as you’d triggered him to release. His cum filtered through your body, its warmth pleasing you as a high pitched moan escaped your mouth: his lips pressed slightly against your cheek as he leaned in, feeling him smirking. Suddenly, removing himself from you, his hands remained on your knees, resisting your legs from closing, he began to kneel down, his face aligned against your entrance. Gradually your attention diverting from where he towered over you, to where he knelt beneath you, before you could comprehend what was to come, he’s head instantly buried itself against your thighs, the touch of his silky hair delicate against your skin was satisfying. His tongue however, was what was most extraordinary of all. Travelling, licking through your walls as it made its way deeper, soaking in the remainder of your cum.

“Delicious” he uttered against your folds, before devouring you ever more. One hand still putting pressure against your knee to remain wide open, whilst the other held unto your hips for support, he could feel you squirming against his grip, unable to keep composure as you gripped the table ever so tightly. His tongue gradually moving back towards the entry, licking both sides of your thighs, cleaning you completely, his head snapped towards the direction of the ceiling as his eyes remained closed whilst his tongue licked whatever remained on hips lips. Easing himself up, as he reached for his trousers, wearing them once again, walking over to the seat near the fire place: as you also attempted to quickly dress, you caught him beckoning for you to accompany him near the fireplace, his hands slapping his lap for you to rest on.

“I’m assuming that was the test?” you insisted, still the sanctuary haunting your mind.

“Only for you” he remarked, as he gently ran his fingers through your damp hair, glaring intently at your face, mesmerised by what he believed was the epitome of beauty.

“So what does this mean?” you longing question, your face anxious, wanting nothing more but for a definite yet comforting answer.

“I don’t like unpredictability, unless I’m responsible for it…And it seems that now I’m responsible for you” he smirked, embracing your body against his, as you both enjoyed the solace of the fire, each other and the thought of your future together in the sanctuary.

[shazyloren]

Snowed In

Summary:  The Winter's storm traps Dany and Jon in a cavern, and it's not an atmosphere she'd gotten used to with Jon. Bran's reveal was proving tough to process...

Notes: As you know, I am taking part in a challenge on tumblr by user @jonerysfics and @mhysaofdragons in which for seven days from Valentines day I am uploading a new one shot. The prompts have been provided and the stories have all been written and I gotta say you're in for a lot of Jonerys content. So Day 5, 18th February, which is when I'm uploading this, the prompt I chose was 'Snowed In'. Argument's anyone?

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841860

----

She knew they should not have embarked on the mission, but there had been sightings of stranded northerners on the kingsroad due west from Winterfell and now, a snow storm meant herself and Jon Snow, were trapped inside a cavern, waiting until the snow passed before they could get out and find the King in the North's subjects.

It would’ve have been okay, had the King in the North not been ignoring her for the past week after they had been told by his younger brother, Bran, that they were related. Jon Snow, King In The North, True Heir to the Iron Throne, hidden in plain sight under snow.

Daenerys had plenty of time to think on the revelation, and in all honesty wished there was some way she could curse her forgotten, older brother in the beyond for being a stupid idiot and causing a war which could have been avoid had both himself and Lady Lyanna told the truth.

The ruin of my house…

“We should get a fire going, if we’re here overnight we’ll freeze before we can see tomorrow” She states, brushing the snow out of her houses hair and reaching to the back of the horse and pulling some logs of wood they’re packed for the small journey. Daenerys wasn't going to put up with it if the moping continued.

They’d lost the men they’d rode out with, everyone going off in separate direction but Daenerys staying hot on Jon’s tail as not to be completely out in the wilderness by herself. She’d made a good decision, even if Jon was just communicating in grunts and huffs.

On cue, he sighs in frustration and they both begin to work away at setting up a camp inside the cavern, which when you had two horses inside it with you, did not make for much room. The half an hour they spend getting things set up gives Dany a chance to think things over.

She’d spent her life in foreign lands, running and fleeing, city to city for fear of death and the end of the last two remaining Targaryens. She hadn’t known a mother or father, she’d only know Viserys cruel contempt. Somehow, after all these years, on opposite sides of the world, she’d found someone, someone of her blood, someone she loved very much, someone who understand that outcast feeling.

The fall of her house, all of it was a lie. Robert Baratheon, the piggish bastard, thinking with his cock as so many men do. She did not love him back, she loved her brother, Rhaegar, a man who supposedly kidnapped her and raped her, a man who she was told by many that was a man who loved singing and playing his harp.

She did not know if the gods were real, in her eyes they were all vicious and spiteful, but there was something said of a destiny in which the last two dragons find each other and defeat the darkness that is coming for all of them. She always thought she’d marry Viserys, or perhaps Aegon had he been alive and the Targaryens still ruled.

Maybe if everything hadn’t gone wrong, she’d have married Jon anyways, cruel a fate to leave a boy in the dark for so long, in the frozen north and unaware of the power he holds, unaware of his birthright. But he’d would’ve been raised in the capital, like the royalty he was, like the dragon blood than ran through his veins. She would’ve too. Maybe they would’ve married, who knew?

“You should get some rest” His voice is void of emotion, an order more than a phrase of concern. It doesn’t sit well with Daenerys, in fact it make her want to unleash her tongue and give Jon a piece of her mind.

“I will”

That’s all she says, unrolling a padded mat so as she can lay down on it and sleep. She careful takes a seat by the fire, and feels the warmth roll over her skin. She looks into the flames of the fire and wonders if the day will come where she is burn by it. She feels steel look back at her and a resolute feeling sweeps across her skin.

I’m Daenerys of House Targaryen, and this idiot will listen to me .

“Okay, that’s enough” She decides. “We need to talk”

“I don’t think we do” He gruffs.

“Jon Snow, you will not continue to ignore your queen” She’s harsh but it’s called for. Her gaze catches his and in the firelight, she sees a wall he’s built up around himself. She wants to be able to communicate with him. “We are to lead our people into safety, lead them away from danger and defeat that oncoming storm together and you can’t even look at me?”

Jon is frozen in his spot.

“Are you ashamed of me? Is that it?” She demands to know, she can take the heartache if he’s ashamed of it, but she is not. She loves him and he knows it, they both do. But the fact that he was blocking her out completely…

“No, of course I’m not ashamed of you, ” He softens slightly.

“Then stop shutting me out” She demands again.

“I’m not, I really not trying to” He softens more.

“Then stop acting like you can’t even look at me, it hurts, Jon. Please tell me why you are shutting me out?” She’s brave, even if tears threaten to be exposed to their cold encounter. “Does it occur to you that I am in the same boat as you? That finding out your heritage is as much of a difficult thing to process for me? Perhaps not…”

“You don’t understand” He countered. “It is different for you”

“How?”

“It just is, okay?” He throws his hands up in defence, his voice hoarse and gruff. “All my life I’ve dealt with the shame that came with being a bastard, yes a high born bastard, but a bastard nonetheless. Lady Catelyn treated me like horse shit and I never blamed her for it, I got to the Night’s Watch thinking things would be different, a place full of outcasts, and it wasn’t. I was abused for that word, and it was all for nothing. All the shame that came to our family, all the horror it has endured is because, that piece of Baratheon Horsepiss couldn’t use his eyes instead of his pecker!”

“Jon-”

“And I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, I really don’t, but my mother died birthing me, she was alone, she had no one! All because that man meddled in a love he didn’t understand, all because he killed my true father. My father, died with my mother’s name on her lips, that's what Bran said, his rubies floating in the river, and never knowing a son that he would have. Everything that wretched King did, House Stark was over as soon as he was crowned”

“But House Stark isn’t over, it’s stronger than ever and under tremendous leadership. And where are the Baratheons? Dead in the ground where the usurpers belong!” She scooted over to sit closer to him. “He hunted me down too, remember? A girl pregnant with a son, a girl no older than his own son, and he sent assassins to stab her in the belly. I have as much reason to hate that man as you do, but there is no point anymore, he’s dead. And we’re alive”

“And related, he never suspected” Jon never striked Dany as a man who would process feelings well, and yet so much of why she liked him was because of his kindness, his moral compass. And that wouldn’t change, she loved him all the same.

“I don’t care that you have Dragon blood, I don’t care that you have a higher claim than me to the throne, I care about you, only you” She warms her hands by the fire. “I always thought I’d marry my brother, and then I was alone. I’m not alone anymore”

The truth rang through the room like a bell clear as day. It was one she was hoping would be clarified, and she knew he couldn’t deny the attraction and affection he had towards her too. You’re an idiot, Jon Snow, but I understand you so well.

“My lord-father lied to me” He says out the blue.

“To protect you” Daenerys countered.

“I know that” He huffs again. “Doesn’t make me any less unhappy about it”

“This truth, is difficult to process. I found you, across the entire world and living completely separate lives, and I still found you. We were meant to meet, Jon, we were meant to save this world together and start a new one, where we’re all free and where justice and democracy matter. No lions and Krakens or Snakes and Eagles, just the Dragons and the Wolves, ushering in a new era of peace”

She placed her hand on his knee, wanting to touch him like they had each other so many times before. But she’s gentle, loving like a woman could be and as forgiving as she’s ever learned to be. “I don’t want any part of the throne, or power. I never have”

“I know, but it is your destiny, Jon Snow”

“Destiny is what you make it, all I try to do, is the right thing” He shrugs.

“Then you might want to start by being nicer to your future wife and family” She kisses him softly on the cheek before laying down on her mat and preparing herself for a wait until the snow storm let up. Could be hours or a few days, but at least that issue was resolved.

[tcohs-messenger]

Listen (Fluffy!Yooran)

(Warning! There’s a description of a panic attack in this fic. If that makes you uncomfortable, you might want to stop now!)

(Also, this is a continuation of my last YooRan fic ‘A Little Danger Goes a Long Way. You don’t have to read it to get the plot, but it would help solidify their relationship better!)

Listen

(A Part of the Danger Goes A Long Way series)

Panic attacks suck, they really, really suck. Saeran hated being sucked into that spiral of what ifs and what do I dos, but even years after Mint Eye, he still had to suffer with them. Even years away from home, he was still scared.

It was silly really, he knew it, he knew he shouldn’t have to be scared of this or that, but try as he might, that fear would still trickle away, still eat away at him, and still make him fear for his life. Would tomorrow even come?

.

Things had progressed rather smoothly between Saeran and Yoosung since he had confessed his feelings, their days peppered with scattered pecks, playful pushes, and gentle whispers of ‘I love yous’ only solidifying that such a day was not a dream. It was new, and of course frightening, but this different experience was something that only brought a pounding heart and bated breath of excitement from Saeran. Even through their joy, they kept their relationship a secret from the RFA, especially from Saeyoung, but it wasn’t out of embarrassment or fright, but as a sort of game.

“Let’s see how long it will take them- don’t you think that would be fun?” Yoosung was shocked when Saeran brought it up, a mischievous little smile on his cheeks as he suggested the idea. “Imagine their surprise when we finally tell them, maybe months later… ohh…”

“Why though? Why should we be do sneaky? Isn’t that a little bit cruel?” Yoosung had excused awkwardly, brow knitted up and almost a bit insulted that they couldn’t announce their relationship to the world.

Saeran frowned a little, disappointed that Yoosung wasn’t completely on board. That is, until he relived, “Didn’t Seven trick you into thinking you had a life-threatening disease once?”

Suddenly, Yoosung’s expression morphed into a sneaky one. “Yeah, you’re right… let’s see how long it takes them.”

That’s how they found each other in this situation, sneaking off to be alone with each other, all while giggling like little children at the bewildered and halfway worried stares from their friends. Hell, Saeyoung was wondering if Yoosung was getting possessive as a friend, maybe even abusive.

That only made Saeran nearly bust a nut laughing.

So, the one day that Saeran had told his brother to drop him off at Yoosung’s place, and even told him to not worry about picking him up until the next day, Saeyoung was worried.

“Are you sure? You’re actually gonna sleep over?” A part of him wanted to be proud of his brother, having a friend so close to him that he was okay with being alone with them for an entire day. Then again- with the way Saeran was avoiding questions of ‘what did you guys do?’ and ‘did you have fun?’ it was a little worrying.

“Uh, yeah? Gee back off…” Saeran nearly spat, brow curled into a forceful glower. It was so hard to just admit it, just yell, ‘I fucking love kissing him alright?!’. Besides, Saeyoung would never let him hear the end of it if he did…

Saeyoung came a little closer, fumbling with his fingers awkwardly. He could never imagine Yoosung being abusive. Although more in the romantic sense, the idea of him hurting his friends was even more astonishing. He was usually so sweet, so inviting- but maybe that was just a facade? “Is he hurting you, Saeran?”

“What?!”

The word comes out a lot more harsh than he expected, so blunt and almost in a growl, it shocks Seven into stumbling back a step. Saeran gulps, looking away. He knew he should just tell his brother what was really going on, how close Yoosung and himself really were, but when the words tickled at his lips… they were suddenly gone. And all there was left in him was a pit in his stomach.

“Can you just take me over there now?”

The ride is thick in silence and tension. Saeyoung doesn’t dare to look at his brother, thoughts running wild and trying to think of what he could do to help. He had looked so offended at the thought of Yoosung abusing him- but what else was Saeyoung to think? It had to have been that, right?

And how was he supposed to help?

Saeran was thinking about something else entirely, wondering why exactly it was that he couldn’t just say… we’re- in… we really…

That apprehension, that fright of admitting it, that dangerous feeling. Saeran was feeling it again, but why? Why was he so scared to admit it? Why could he find it so easy to kiss that cute, blonde head of his, stare into his eyes, press his head into his chest and nearly fall asleep on him? And yet- he couldn’t just say that…

“We’re here.”

Saeran shakes his attention back, gripping at the small backpack he brought with his clothes and a few other necessities. He doesn’t look at his brother as he gets out, and he doesn’t say anything ether. He’s almost surprised that Saeyoung doesn’t leave with a parting word, something to keep him close, and instead lets him go (albeit, with a look in his eyes almost longing, almost scared).

When Saeran enters the little apartment, he’s greeted by the scent of cinnamon and smoke around the entire abode. He was surprised that he wasn’t also greeted by the blaring of a smoke alarm, but it was rivaled when he shut the door and heard a loud yelp from the kitchen.

Yoosung pokes out, in an apron nearly coated in still wet batter and some even on his cheeks. He’s holding a pan dotted in dark clumps. “You’re early! Wait!” Saeran looks a bit perturbed, glancing around as if to ask where he should go. Yoosung scrambles for him, grabbing his bag and tugging Saeran by the arm to guide him to his room. “I- I was doing something just… just wait here!”

With a few ushered pokes, Saeran sits down on Yoosung’s bed and waits until the blonde had shut the door before he’s snickering under his breath, only assured of Yoosung’s activities when he starts screaming about all the smoke.

It’s calm then, Saeran sitting numbly on his bed while he waits. He realizes that he hasn’t been in Yoosung’s room yet, despite having hung out with him numerous times. And it’s exactly what he’d expect, the covers a mess, socks dotting the floor, a pile of school books and papers off to the side. It’s inviting and reminiscent.

In another time, he wouldn’t have felt comfortable laying back into the bed, it was an invasion of a personal space after all, but Saeran couldn’t help himself now. He adjusts a bit until he finds a good position, nuzzling into the pillow and sighing. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable bed (as comfortable as a college student can afford), but something about it was comforting. The room is just a little too warm, warm enough to prompt him to take off his sweater and leave him in only a tank top. This leaves him laying back and a little discomforted by the fleece blanket Yoosung had, but still very cozy.

It’s almost as though his encounter with Saeyoung hadn’t happened.

Saeran grimaces and bites his tongue, feeling his eyes burn slightly as they threaten him with tears. Subconsciously, he reaches out, pulling back with him a soft chunk of fabric and nuzzling into it. The smell is intoxicating, and remarkably like Yoosung.

After a while, he opens his eyes and recognizes the color, a light baby blue. Oh god this is his sweatshirt. He holds it tighter, just about shoving his face into the fabric and sniffing it more, indulging in the scent of Yoosung that it had. It was like he was right here with him…

“Sorry- I didn’t want to make you worried. I have a new batch in, so we’ll have to wait a bit…” Yoosung opens his bedroom door and is greeted to the sweetest sight, Saeran curled on his bed, halfway covered by his blanket and holding his sweatshirt in a death grip. The slight moment he has to look at him just before he sits up flustered, he notices the peaceful look on his face, eyes squeezed in a manner of near sleeping, cheeks a faint pink, this cute smile spread across his cheeks and the dimples they bring with them. Yoosung smiles a little, his cheeks burning. “Do ya… want to come out?”

“Yeah yeah, shut up. I’ll be out in a second.”

With a renewed energy, Saeran follows Yoosung back out into the living room, now clear of smoke and with a sweatshirt in his grip. As per tradition, they fall onto the couch and turn on the television to their favorite channel before shuffling closer and waiting for the commercials to end. When Yoosung glances down at Saeran, with his head on his shoulder and just about using the sweatshirt like a blanket, he can’t help the small laugh.

“What?” Saeran, of course, gives him a hard glance, only his eyes peering up at Yoosung from underneath the fabric.

His reaction only makes Yoosung laugh more. “If you want, you can wear it. You seem a little- cold.”

When the words pass his lips, he squeezes Saeran a little tighter, and then slowly brings his arm back so Saeran can make his choice. And he pauses briefly, giving Yoosung that same hard look, but eventually pulls the sweatshirt over his head. It fits him a little too well, only slightly bigger due to his small frame, and the fabric covering most of his bare skin was enticing and soft. Saeran shudders at the sudden warmth and buries his face into the collar a bit, reveling in the smell once more.

Yoosung’s reaction is priceless. With bright red cheeks and wide eyes, he just stares at Saeran. Seeing him wear his sweatshirt is too endearing, too cute, and seeing Saeran merely enjoying wearing it was taking his breath away. Yoosung shuffles closer to him on the couch, head dipping to press his lips against Saeran’s cheek as they fall back to lie on the couch.

The commercials were done, but they weren’t paying attention to the show. Yoosung’s kisses traversed onto Saeran’s throat, giving sweet little pecks as his grip tightens around his waist. Although the kisses don’t gain intensity, Saeran is pleased with merely being in the blonde’s arms and feeling his warm breath upon his somewhat cold flesh.

They lay there for a while, Yoosung continually giving sweet kisses along the red-head’s neck, only escalating it to gentle licks every now and then, but Saeran appreciated every bit of it. For some reason, the feeling of those lips caressing him so gently, so thoroughly, and so lovingly, was more comforting than he could have anticipated. Eventually, Saeran was reduced to hushed hums, eyes closed and halfway dozing off, and that was when Yoosung finally eased into merely nuzzling into his shoulder and closing his eyes along with him. It was so easy to do this- so easy to be kissed and held like this.

He’d stay this way forever if he could.

Saeran sniffed a little, catching the scent of Yoosung and- something else.

“Are the cookies burning again…?”

Yoosung screamed.

.

They settled for ice cream instead, which gave them the excuse of cuddling closer to share warmth as the cold treat chilled them. This time, their attention was trained on the television, watching a recent episode of a cooking competition. Yoosung found himself muttering what he would do in this situation or in that situation, bewildered at how these people were making such trivial mistakes while he himself had burnt two batches of cookies.

Saeran, meanwhile, was stuck with his thoughts again. Sure, it wasn’t as bad being at Yoosung’s side and eating something sweet, but it was still a little bit appalling to him as they continued. Do you really care about him like that? Do you really feel that way? He cares so much about you, he says it freely, why won’t you say it? Why won’t you admit how you feel? What is wrong with you that it won’t come out?

He had been chewing on the edge of his spoon for a long time. Yoosung only spared him a glance once a commercial break appeared, and even then, it was just to try to sneak a kiss, but he realized something was wrong at the sight of Saeran’s distant gaze. “Hey, you okay?”

Saeran shudders and looks away. He hated being seen like that, so lost, so unsure, and especially by Yoosung. He shouldn’t have to deal with someone like that, someone so weak, so lost, so unsure, so…

Horrible.

“Saeyoung thinks you’re abusing me.” Time stops suddenly. The air becomes thin, and Saeran becomes aware of the coldness that envelops him. Yoosung gets to his feet, staring down at him with wide and scared eyes. And Saeran looks away, afraid of giving in to that sad look.

Yoosung shakes his head, peering down at his hands curiously, no, that look is fright. “Did- am I…?”

No, no! Saeran shoots up as well, taking himself off guard as well. “No- no! You aren’t! You’re too good to me! You’re not hurting me at all…” And the last sentence he mutters come out, assured yes, but also taken aback, as though he were… confused why he wasn’t hurting him.

Yoosung whimpers, the beginning of tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. Saeran doesn’t think, he doesn’t have to, pulling Yoosung tight against his chest with a hand landing in his hair, rubbing his scalp and keeping him tight against him. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just trying to hush the cries that Yoosung produces, holding him until the tremors begin to die down. Once they do, they collapse once more on the couch, watching as they enter the dessert round, but things are a lot less sweeter this time around.

.

They’re not quite comfortable sleeping in the bed together. Yoosung blames a good majority of it on being that the bed is too small, barely fitting him, but they both know the hidden reason behind it.

Saeran nestles onto the couch with just a pillow and an old throw blanket, staring at the ceiling as Yoosung dozes in his own bed. It’s hard for him to get to sleep on any particular night, but on stressful nights it’s even worse.

That’s why he found himself in the early hours of the morning still awake, feeling cold despite the heat being turned up, and surrounded by something odd in the air, taunting him, threatening him.

Then the questions begin again. Why won’t you say it? Why did you let Saeyoung believe that he was hurting you? Why didn’t you tell him? Why did you let Yoosung believe he was hurting you? Why did you tell him that? Why did you tell him what Saeyoung said? Why don’t you know what you’re feeling anyway?

“Why isn’t he hurting me…”

Those words came out like venom and choked him. The air was too hot, was too thick, it was suffocating him.

Saeran kicked off the blanket and sat up, head ending up in his palms, frame trembling. This was it, he was panicking. If he caught it now, maybe he could do something. Water. He needed water. His throat was so dry.

Before he knew it, Saeran was in the kitchen, scrambling for a glass in the cupboard, hands trembling as he grabbed a plastic cup and tried to fill it with water from the sink. It was so hard- so difficult to turn the little knobs on the sink. And even when he got a glass full of water, it was difficult to drink, and too warm to do much.

Maybe there was something cold to drink in the fridge?

If he was having a panic attack before, this was something devastating.

It didn’t hit him at first. Saeran opened the fridge and first saw a carton of eggs, open on the top shelf, it only had one egg in a middle compartment. He also took note of the empty jar of pickles in the back, only holding the leftover juice- and then the milk jug with barely a cup left. Saeran’s throat tightened, and his grip on the fridge door tightened. On the side, there was an expired jar of mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, soy sauce, a variety of unopened salad dressings…

It was honestly, in Saeran’s eyes, a very simple image: the fridge of a college student. Something about this image was striking with Saeran, and he couldn’t place it. His stomach growled, painfully, despite having eaten dinner a couple hours ago. It got so painful, in fact, that Saeran gripped at his stomach and groaned at the pain, falling back against the nearby wall and slowly sliding down as the pain grew unbearable.

“I love you.”

It whispered against his ear, and the sound brought shivers up and down his spine. The cold from the still opened fridge wafted toward him, arising goosebumps on his exposed ankles and arms. The cold stung him and made him recoil further, stomach coiling tighter and tighter, and then the searing warmth of his tears dribbling down his cheeks like molten lava.

“You better understand that. I’m doing this because I love you. I want you to become stronger. How else are you going to survive out there?”

Saeran wept, his lips quivering with the effort to silence himself. His entire body shook as the pain continued to absorb him. Why didn’t Yoosung see all of this? See his weakness? His boney frame and thin stature? Why couldn’t he see his illness and fragile immunity? Why didn’t he hurt him over it…

Why didn’t he hurt him?

“Saeran?” The voice was sleepy and very confused, at least this time around. Warmth around Saeran’s side was shocking and a little bewildering. “Hey- hey what’s going on?” Yoosung mumbles mostly into Saeran’s hair as he hugs the smaller one tighter.

Saeran sucks in a breath through his teeth, the whimpers in his chest finally letting go in one exhale. It all comes out in a flood of word vomit, the pitiful whines and questions. “Why do you love me? Don’t you see how gross and weak I am? Don’t you see how pitiful I am? How do you even love me? Why- why don’t you hurt me like you should- if you really love me- shouldn’t you be hurting me…”

In all reality, the words shocked Yoosung. It shook him to his core and made him really think about what Saeran was going through. It wasn’t explicitly explained to him, how Saeyoung and Saeran had grown up, just simply put that their mother was ‘a bit fucked up’. Maybe it was her actions that brought Saeran here, weeping in front of the fridge, wondering if Yoosung, someday, would hurt him too?

That idea had made him sad, but also very angry. Yoosung wanted to punch that woman square in the face, or perhaps even better, make her go through the exact same pain that she had put her sons through.  But he shouldn’t think of that now- right now, there was Saeran, held tight in his arms, weeping, scared, confused…

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. Here- sit down on the couch.” Yoosung helps Saeran up with a calmness and genuine gentleness that Saeran was not used to. As they sit, Saeran’s stomach grumbles, and Yoosung shoots to his aid, “Are you hungry? I can make you something.”

Saeran doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. The way he is clenching his stomach is enough for Yoosung to get up and head to the kitchen again. Saeran sits numbly on the couch as the minor clinks from the kitchen hushes to the sound of boiling water and frying oil.

Yoosung returns quickly with a bowl of ramen and fried egg. And Saeran eats it slowly. They sit there in the thick silence on the dingy couch, Saeran nibbling on the noodles with Yoosung’s palm on his knee. Eventually, the silence is a little too daunting, and Yoosung turns on the television to help ease their nerves.

When Saeran finished his food and sat the bowl onto the table, Yoosung had finally decided to try talking again. “You feeling a little better, Saeran?” The other boy nods slowly, clearly just a little bit more relaxed. There’s still a tensity that he holds, one that Yoosung hopes he can help ease.

“Want to snuggle a bit? How about in my bed?” It takes Yoosung a moment to realize what it sounds like he’s implying, and at that point, color is enveloping his cheeks and ears, and he starts to sputter. “I-I mean- it’s more comfortable in my bed than the couch, with all the springs and- and gee- ah…”

Finally, Saeran smiles.

“No, I understand. Yeah, let’s snuggle.”

So Saeran found himself lying in Yoosung’s bed, smiling just the slightest bit as the humor of Yoosung fidgeting shyly just beside him had resonated with him. Even with his weakened state, exhausted from crying and empty from his emotions, he was still able to smile.

He pinned it on Yoosung.

Yoosung eventually settled next to Saeran (and by next to, we mean at least a couple inches apart, decency!), turned so he could still see Saeran’s bright, gold eyes. That little smile on his face confirms that he was able to succeed in his goal, and so Yoosung smiles back.

“Hey…” Yoosung’s gaze travels up to Saeran’s eyes, watching him intently as the red-head speaks to him. “I… I love you.”

When he says the phrase, the warmth around them seems to melt into something even more comfortable. Then Yoosung smiles, and Saeran swears he can hear his heart in his ears. “I love you too.”

The touch of their lips is soft and gentle. It doesn’t go anywhere, they merely break apart after a few moments, but the comfortness and the inviting nature of their bond is suddenly engorged with even more adoration and love- and Saeran just can’t believe he found something so good.

Saeran closes their distance, pulling Yoosung closer to him by his pajama shirt before nestling his hands into the blonde’s sides. Yoosung had only squeaked briefly, soon settling into his new position with a hand landing upon Saeran’s cheek, playing with the soft strands of hair drifting near his jaw. His touch is intoxicating, Saeran soon finds out, as he leans into Yoosung’s palm and invites him to continue the gentle petting.

He loves me. I love him. Saeran was pleased with these thoughts, very sure of them, in this exact moment. It made him wonder why he doubted before? Why- sitting in front of the fridge- he doubted Yoosung’s feelings. Not anymore- he was sure of it. Yoosung loved him.

“Hey.” Their calm and gentle atmosphere breaks at Saeran’s very sudden excitement. Yoosung opens his eyes and looks back expectantly. “We should tell them. That we’re dating- in the messenger.”

Yoosung sits up suddenly, a big smile on his face, violet eyes shimmering excitedly. “You mean it? You want to tell them?”

Saeran nods and sits up as well as Yoosung pulls out his phone and opens the app. With a new chatroom opened, Yoosung pauses. “Should we just say it? Like- ‘guess what? We’re dating, lol’ or something?”

“Let’s send a picture.” Saeran’s suggestion is very out of the ordinary, very bold, and it excited Yoosung even more.

Yoosung giggles a little, trying to adjust his phone camera a bit. “Us cuddling right? That should be enough proof.”

Saeran shrugs, his confidence and boldness building even more. “Maybe- or we could do something straight to the point. Maybe a picture of us… kissing.”

Yoosung breaks. His phone plops onto the blankets as he drops it, squeaking softly at the suggestion. After a moment, he moves to grab the phone back. “You- uhh- really want to send everyone a picture of us kissing…?”

The way he phrases it isn’t from unsureness, but for pure confirmation, wondering if Saeran was really okay with an outing like that. But Saeran nods, very sure, very determined suddenly. When Yoosung adjusts the phone again, capturing both of their faces in frame, Saeran’s hands do the work, gently grasping the blonde’s cheeks and holding him close as their lips connect.

Snap!

They pause, their kiss connected now out of desire. Saeran’s lips move suddenly, moving in fluid motion against Yoosung’s. The hands brought up to Saeran’s cheeks pull him closer, and they slowly ease back into the inviting pillows, still softly kissing, still with bated breaths.

The only sounds besides the hushed smack of their lips was the continuous dinging of Yoosung’s phone, still lit up and still receiving updates from the chatroom. He’d answer later, Yoosung assured.

They were busy right now.

[selenelavellan]

Weeeeell since you're asking for prompts/questions... I was re reading all the Dirthalene frat AU reincarnation stories, because nothing says "I'm avoiding my responsibilities" like binge reading fanfic that I love, and I was wondering how/if the twins come into the picture after Kel is found. Are they encountered under less traumatic circumstances, or does the Institute have them too?

Thetwins are indeed found under less traumatic circumstances. Let’s skipahead to them, shall we?

Reincarnation AU

Quick recap; This is the first Reincarnation AU family, so Ana is Selene’s adopted daughter, Dirthamen and Selene are married with a dog named Ein, and they have had a son already! (Who I will be filling in the story for…eventually.)

Dirthamen, Pride,and Uthvir belong to @feynites

Elanna/Ana belongs to @lycheemilkart

Melarue belongs to @justanartsysideblog

Eda belongs to @palindromekomori

Here we go!

–

Seleneand Dirthamen both take Pride to school for his first day of pre-k. 

They’re allowed to walk him up to the entrance of his classroom, andhe clings to Selenes hand the whole way there. He’s nervous, hisother hand fumbling with the long webbing strap hanging from hiscartoon-wolf adorned backpack. It’s stuffed full with crayons andglue sticks and paper and anything else Pride was worried he’d need.

“You’regoing to be wonderful,” Selene assures, bending down to give him akiss on his forehead.

Dirthamennods, and ruffles the dark hair atop his sons head with a smile “Ifyou require us, your teacher has our cell numbers, and we will ensurethey are turned on all day.”

Pridenods, with a slight sniffle before straightening his shoulders “Okay. And you’ll be here after?”

Selenenods as she stands “Yes. Your father and I will both be here topick you up at the end of the day.”

Pridenods again, and steps into the classroom. Selene takes a deep breathand Dirthamen slips his hand into hers, gripping it tightly. They’reboth nervous. The first day of school is always terrifying, but it’snice to go through it together.

Thedrive back to the house is quiet, neither of them willing to give into their unvoiced fears first. What if he gets picked on?

Whatif he doesn’t make any friends?

Whatif his magic manifests and his teacher has a bias?

Whatif he picks on others?

You’rebeing ridiculous. Pride will be fine.Des supplies.

Selenepointedly ignores him, because nothing makes him more smug than whenshe tells him he’s right. Instead she finishes the drive back to thehouse. Eins tail wags hard enough to shake his whole behind as theywalk inside, but he sniffs and makes a pointed whining noise whenonly the two of them enter.

“He’llbe home later,” Selene explains with a scratch behind his ears“Honestly, you’re worse than we are sometimes.”

Dirthamenlets out a quiet laugh at the remark as he removes his shoes.

Theday drags on, Selene handling some overseas affairs in her officewhile Dirthamen types away at his latest first draft behind her.

Einfalls asleep on his pillow in the corner, and after an hour or two,Selene lets out a loud huff.

“It’s too quiet.”

“Thatis because we have become accustomed to having a small child bouncingaround the house.”

“Prideis hardly much of a bouncer, unless Ein gets him riled up,” Selenepoints out.

Dirthamenraises a skeptical eyebrow and closes the lid of his laptop. “Ifyou insist.”

Selenesfingers tap against her keyboard.

“Doyou miss him?”

“Yes.But we are not permitted to stop in for visits. It could bedisruptive to the other students.”

Selenesmirks “Did you look that up?”

“Iwas emailing the principal about it, in fact. They were very clear onthe schools stance on the matter. They assured me that our concernsare perfectly normal, however.”

Selenelets out a soft sigh and stands to join him on the couch. The two ofthem make adjustments, Dirthamens laptop ends up on the table andSelene ends up straddling his lap with her lips kissing a trail upthe length of his neck.

“Isuppose there are…benefits to having the house to ourselves,”Dirthamen murmurs between quiet gasps, his fingers trailing up andunder Selenes shirt, tracing patterns over her skin.

Selenehums a quiet agreement, one hand slipping down to unbutton his pantswhile the other glides through his hair. They shift around untilDirthamen is reclined on his back with Selene over him, nippinggently at his ear.

“Thecondoms are in the bedroom…” he reminds her, even as he unzipsher skirt and slides it down and off her legs to permit her a morecomfortable position.

“Wedon’t need them,” Selene hums, unbuttoning his shirt while shenuzzles her face into his neck.

Dirthamenblinks, propping himself up on his elbows with a slightly furrowedbrow. “Unless you want to get pregnant again, I believe we do.”

Seleneraises an eyebrow at him in response, and he turns slightly red asrealization dawns on him.

“Youwant another?” he inquires anyways.

Selenenods. It’s something she’s been thinking about for several monthsnow. They’re in a good neighborhood for families already, neither ofthem have a pressing need to be somewhere else within the next fewyears, and with Pride in school now, he won’t be taking up quite somuch of their day.

“Ithink it’s a good time for it,” she informs him.

“Areyou going to say that each time one of our children goes off toschool?”

Selenefrowns “What do you mean?”

“Youagreed we should have Pride only after Elanna left for college-”

“AsI recall, you were the one pushing for that particular pregnancy,”Selene points out.

“Yes,and it was not a smooth one,” Dirthamen reminds her.

Selenesits up fully. “Try again, because that was very close toinsulting.”

“Myapologies,” Dirthamen amends “I meant only that you had adifficult time with your first pregnancy. I do not wish to put youinto a situation that would be uncomfortable, again.”

“Well,I appreciate the concern,” Selene admits, hands trailing absentlyover his chest and casually unbuttoning his shirt “But I have beenthinking about this for some time now. If you need time to considerit though, I understand. We can move to the bedroom if you’d prefer.”

Dirthamenconsiders his options, hands ghosting over Selenes bared thighs,before he flips the two of them over. Selene blinks, surprised at thesudden shift before he begins nipping at her neck. She lets out aloud groan, back arching up from the couch while Dirthamen drags herpanties down and off her legs. He mumbles something about not needingmore time, as he admits he had been considering the idea as well, but was unsure how to bring it up again. Theireyes lock as he pulls up, and his lips press against hers before theyare lost in each other for the rest of the morning.

–

Itis approximately three months later when Selene begins to feelqueasy. Her favorite foods now smell too strongly, and her sheets aretoo scratchy and she can not seem to stop having to use the restroom every hour no matter how much she restricts her liquid intake.

Dirthamenpicks up a test on his way to get Pride from school. He’s started toadjust to the new learning environment, and has even made a fewfriends already.

Dirthamenis very proud.

Selenetakes the test, and bites down on her lower lip as she reads theresults in her bathroom that evening.

Pregnant.

She’spregnant.

Shetells Dirthamen first. He’s thrilled, and they have their own privatecelebration that night. Selene schedules her first ultrasound for aday where Pride has a field trip, about 12 weeks in, and tries not tolet her nerves show. Her husbands hands grips hers reassuringly asthe technician moves the transducer over her stomach.

Twins.

It’stwins.

Apair of perfectly healthy twins.

Seleneis practically in a daze as she steps back to the car.

Thediscussion with Pride that night goes more smoothly than they couldhave hoped for. He’s still excited from his schools visit to thepetting zoo, and excited over the three of them going out for pizzafor dinner. Selene hands him a slice of cheese and asks him if he’dlike to be an older brother.

“I’m already an older brother,” he states.

Seleneraises an eyebrow, but Pride just explains “We have Ein.”

Seleneand Dirthamen both chuckle and smile at their son, and Seleneexplains the situation. That they will have two new babies in thehouse, and Pride will have two younger brothers soon. His eyes gowide, and he absorbs the new information, nodding along excitedly.He wants to help pick out the decorations for their room, and newgames for the house and says he’ll teach them how to be nice to Einand most of Selenes lingering worries melt away. 

They’re going to beok. 

Everything is going to be fine.

–

Anais similarly excited to learn of her new baby brothers. She offers tocut her trip short and come home to help with preparations (a college graduation gift from Selene and Dirthamen made up of a prepaid cardfor expenses, a passport, and a years worth of travel around Thedas)but Selene waves her off. Tells her to make the most of her trip, thebabies aren’t going anywhere, and they’re still months off anyways.

The line of calls to be made continues once the first trimester has passed. Uthvir offers their congratulations,but is too preoccupied with their own child to muster up much timefor a phone call. Melarue also offers their praise, and asks for thedue date before they suddenly have to go take care of something theydon’t give any details about. Selene rolls her eyes at the obvious dismissal, and calls Eda, who insists on coming to visit and help, and Selene agrees thata visit would be nice, but the dragon must stay at home. Eda pouts,but when Selene promises to take the children to visit when they’reold enough, she seems forgiven.

Thenext few months are a blur of sleepless nights and back pain andfurniture assembly. Dirthamen ushers her out of freshly painted roomsand away from sushi and deli meats, and for the last few weeks Selenehas to stay off of her feet because of the added weight and theswelling of her feet.

Itleads to a lot of sulking on her end and fussing on Dirthamens. It does allot her plenty of time to read to Pride, and watch his favorite showswith him and play through an assortment of board games, though.

They’reabout to eradicate the final virus in Pandemic one afternoon when Selenes waterbreaks.

Pridepanics, and Selene calmly asks him to go get Ana from her room, whileDirthamen loads up their overnight bags and double checks that thecar seats have been secured in the new van.

“Doyou want me to drive?” she teases, and Dirthamen practically glaresat her in response. 

But he takes a deep breath and helps her hobbleinto the passenger seat, on top of a towel while Selene instructs Anato call if she has any problems, and please make sure Pride gets toschool on time in the morning, and to give Ein plenty of time in thebackyard before bed. Elanna nods along, waving her off and remindingher that she is an adult now, and she knows how to do all of thesethings and to please just focus on having her babies and to call whenthe two of them can come to the hospital as well.

Dirthamenis silently panicking as they pull into the parking lot and he helpsSelene out of the car.

“It’sgoing to be fine,” she assures him, with a kiss on the cheek.

“Iknow that is the most likely outcome,” he agrees.

Selenesighs. “The babies are perfectly healthy, they’re facing the rightdirection, and this is right around when we were expecting to be due.Everything is running as smoothly as we could hope for.”

Dirthamennods and carries the bags into the hospital, despite Selenes offer tocarry her own.

Thewoman at the front desk is kind and soft-spoken, and explains that untilSelene’s contractions pick up, they can’t give her a room. Dirthamentries to argue the point, but Selene just shrugs and starts walkingup and down the hallway. 

Well. 

Waddling, up and down the hallway, shesupposes, with one hand on her lower back and the other above the swelling of her stomach.

Ilove the kids but I’m ready to have our body back,Des gripes.

Youaren’t the one with heartburn radiating down to your kneecaps,Selene shoots back.

Touchy.

Desquiets down suddenly after that, and when Selene turns she finds outwhy; Melarue and Uthvir have arrived.

“Welcometo the party,” She jokes.

Melarueoffers her a quick hug, and asks why she hasn’t been given a roomyet. Selene explains the situation, and Melarue tsks and runs off tofind out how much longer it will be. Meanwhile, Uthvir finds anot-in-use wheelchair and drags it over for Selene to sit in.

“Walkingis supposed to help induce labor,” Selene argues.

“Andyour doctor ordered you to stay off your feet to avoid back damage,”they retort.

Selenefrowns and glances over Uthvirs head towards Dirthamen, who looksunashamed of his tattling and just offers her a not-at-all-repentantshrug. She plops down into the chair, and refuses to admit how muchbetter she feels just sitting down, when Melarue turns the cornerwith a nurse in tow.

“Herewe are then,” they announce “Right this way.”

Dirthamentakes the wheelchair from Uthvir, pushing Selene to their room andhelping her into her gown while Melarue and Uthvir go to retrievesome ice chips.

Selenewishes she could say that she was as calm and composed throughout therest of the process as she had planned on being, but the truth isthat her head was swimming with all the ways things could go wrong.Something could happen to Pride and Elanna back at the house, or oneof the twins could be tied up in their cord, or they could end uphaving to give her a Cesarean section. Anesthetic wouldn’t even workon her, would she have to pretend to not notice when they slice heropen, and what if-

You’vedone this before, Des remindsher. This is just twice the fun, if anything.

Youridea of fun has truly warped over the years, did you know that?

Ohhush. You’ve been waiting centuries to see them again, and you’regoing to back out now? That’s not like you. You’re panicking overnothing. Your friends are here, Dirthamen is here, your children aresafe, and you are about to expand our family again. Everything isfine. You wanted this.

Selene lets out a long breath, and turns her head to look atDirthamen through the haze and the heat of her labor. He smiles, andsqueezes her hand gently, reminding her that he is there beside her,and it eases a tightness in her chest. She can do this. She can dothis.

She just has to get through the screaming.

–

She does get through the screaming, as it goes. A quick and cleandelivery, on all accounts.

It doesn’t make Selene want to strangle the doctor any less when theygo “See? Nice and easy.”

But they wash her children and hand them back to her. Their eyes aremore green than they were the last time she saw them, and Felasels hair is all white right now,but she recognizes them all the same. 

They both do.

“Hello again,” she whispers. “I missed you,”