#That darkness and brought into the light. A boy who did what his mentor couldn’t- a boy who embraced the light. A man who shares it

[carpthecarp]

Jason Todd is such an interesting and complex character, he’s not good but he’s not bad. He was a good kid who was in a tough position and used violence as a means to save himself and others. And then he became a troubled man who went through the unimaginable and came out alive, a man who was ok with using brutal methods to get justice. His actions led to innocent people being harmed and caused chaos, which isn’t excusable, but it does make sense why he was that way. Jason Todd is so interesting because he’s such a scared character. As much as he acts tough and as strong as he is, like every other Batman vigilante, he’s afraid. He’s afraid of his past, of the warehouse, the pit, himself. He’s a “violent” man who’s just a scared boy trying to do his best to help others. He’s not a villain or a bad person, he’s lost and trying to redeem himself (he does). When done right, he’s one of the most interesting DC characters to write about, especially considering what he represents. He’s a robin, in fact he’s the robin directly after THE boy wonder. He’s Batman’s light, the golden boy. But he’s so different from the robin that came before him. Bruce feared that Dick would grow up to be like him. Bruce feared that Jason would grow up to be a ruthless killer. Jason is a good kid who was stuck in a bad situation, and when he finally got a way out, it was taken from him again.

[archies-litterbox]

what’s the greater good worth? (definitely not this)

Summary: Merlin rescues Douxie from some lowlife gang of bandits, and he's devastated by what's already happened to his apprentice before he found him - by what he was too late to prevent happening to his son. But there's more to what happened than simply what lay before him.

Words: ~8.5k

A/N: Finally got this oneshot done! It’s actually based on this post I made a while back, but the idea of fleshing it out into a full-lenth oneshot just wouldn’t leave me alone! (Just like I can’t leave the poor moppet alone 😔) Hope you like it!

[CW: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Temporary Muteness]

--

Merlin sent Hisirdoux on a short errand: go out to the marketplace, buy some ingredient he’d needed, and come straight back. No dawdling, no distraction, and no stopping to make lovesick puppy eyes at that maiden who frequented the market at the same time Hisirdoux himself did. 

He couldn’t remember the exact thing he’d told his apprentice to fetch, for the memory was soon overtaken by worry when the boy hadn’t come back by late afternoon. He’d only sent Hisirdoux out that morning, and even if he had forsaken his instructions and tried to muster up the courage to ask that girl her name…

“I, er… don’t exactly know her name yet,” the moppet had said, “But I think it’s something with a Z! At least, that’s what I heard the person she was talking to call her. I haven’t, er… actually spoken to her yet.”

“Focus on your studies,” Merlin had said, “before distracting yourself with thoughts of courting this girl from the shops, and-”

“But Master-”

“Don’t “But Master” me.”

...He still should have been back at this point. Hisirdoux wasn’t one to wander off when he was out on errands. He knew the dangers of that - of being caught alone by the wrong person, prejudiced against users of magic, without anyone knowing where he really was.

The boy’s familiar shared Merlin’s worry, so Archie kept his form as a mostly-inconspicuous black cat (save for his glasses, for he figured he should have the best sight as he could at this moment) and slinked through the town beyond the castle, following the young wizard’s scent, unmistakably that of burnt cloves.

Sure enough, Hisirdoux had gone to the shops he’d needed to visit, but the scent trail made a sharp turn into an alley - one that he’d been dragged into, Archie had feared, if the signs of struggle and kicking feet in the cobble were any indication.

It was then that Archie resolved to fly back to the castle and tell Merlin to follow him, warning the Master Wizard that it was overwhelmingly likely that Hisirdoux didn’t disappear of his own volition. 

To say that worried Merlin, or even terrified him, would’ve been the understatement of the past twelve centuries.

It only took a few hours to track down Hisirdoux’s trail to some cabin in a patch of forest, but every second was too long - far too long for Merlin to wait to find his son.

The thugs looked rudimentary from where Merlin stood unnoticed outside the clearing. One or two - three at the most - stood lazily outside, near the doors. Merlin tapped his staff against the forest ground, and it was enough to send a little spell through the soil and right under their feet, shooting up their bodies like a reverse lightning rod and knocking them to the ground, unconscious. It didn’t kill them, but that wasn’t a mercy; really, the wizard still hadn’t known the condition of his apprentice, and if something had been done to him that only these men could reverse, ending their lives would've been an unwise choice, to say the least.

But the sound of the men hitting the ground was enough to draw out the last two of Hisirdoux captors, who spotted Merlin in the woods. Fine - he hadn’t been keen on hiding for much longer anyway. Stealth was for wizards whose apprentices hadn’t been snatched up by lowly bandits; who weren’t using a headstrong facade to hide their fear for their sons’ lives.

And right now, while he rendered the last of the bandits unconscious, Merlin Ambrosius was no such wizard.

The door was still open, as Merlin dealt with the last of those men before they could even come five steps out of the shack, so the wizard ran to the opening with Archie flying next to him, stepping over the idiots until he was close enough to see into the dark interior, lit only by rays of light that shone in-between boards nailed into the windows.

Merlin hit his staff against the ground and cast a spell with enough to break the boards and let more light into the hovel - light that shined on his apprentice that lay trembling on the ground, unresponsive on his side, not even fighting the restraints that bound him. With his back turned to his mentor and his familiar, he seemed barely aware of their presence at all.

Merlin never ran faster in his life.

Thankful for his armor’s plating, one of his knees slammed against the ground as he knelt down behind Hisirdoux, looking over his bonds and feeling like, for once in his long, long life, he could barely breathe at the sight before him, even though it wasn’t nearly as bad as what could have been - it was more at the audacity than anything else.

His apprentice had been bound with rope at the ankles and knees, with another few winds of it pinning his arms to his back and metal shackles binding his wrists behind him. Of course, the shackles must have been cast with a magic nullifier infused in the cruel metal, so the boy couldn’t use spells or enchantments to break his other restraints; as if to add insult to injury, the boy was also missing his magic bracelet, which had been thrown across the hovel.

(Again, the audacity.)

Merlin knew one of the bandits must have had the key, so he got back up, telling Archie to stay with him before he went back to the cluster of idiots that lay outside the door.

The wizard watched the boy’s shackled hands grasp at the air as he reached for him in vain, and the weak twinge in his pale, thin fingers made something in Merlin’s cold aged heart ache . He wished he’d been a hundredfold more brutal with those bandits than simply knocking them out.

Anyway, it took only moments for him to get the key, and by the time he came back, picking up the boy’s charm bracelet on the way, Archie had broken the rest of Hisirdoux’s bonds.

The boy still hadn’t said a word, or even made a sound.

Confound it, Merlin loathed this.

Once he’d finally uncuffed Hisirdoux, he helped the boy, now entirely free of his bonds, into a sitting position. He was, indeed, quite conscious, his eyes following Archie as the familiar stepped onto his lap. Hisirdoux started petting the black cat before wrapping his gangly arms around the cat in a desperate hug, still as silent as he’d been when Merlin stormed in. He wouldn’t have any more of this… this vexing silence from his apprentice - not if it could’ve been helped.

(...If only he knew how little it could’ve been helped at that moment.)

“Hisirdoux, say something!”

The boy looked up at Merlin with wide, glistening eyes and a trembling lower lip.

He shook his head.

His lips contorted into a grimace, and he mouthed the words…

“I can’t.”

Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks as he put his hand on his throat, the skin on his wrist raw from the cruelty of those shackles, and shook his head. Those teary hazel eyes that looked at Merlin were exactly those of a terrified child - his terrified child, and Merlin could see the desperation in those eyes, like he was wordlessly begging him to do something.

...But for the first time in his long, long life, Merlin felt utterly and entirely unsure of a way to fix this. He knew how much his apprentice adored singing, humming, blathering incessantly - his voice almost seemed more central to his character than his magic.

And it was…

No, no, no. It couldn’t be - it couldn’t be gone. Those bandits couldn’t have taken this from him - not from his apprentice - not from that innocent moppet who almost always had a tune about him as he bumbled around the castle. No, Merlin couldn’t accept it - he - he wouldn’t accept it -

The old man was pulled from his shock when Hisirdoux sobbed, a heart-wrenching noise even without any vocal influence, and mouthed three words - a desperate plea from a terrified little Wizard, silent but understandable - silent but utterly heart-wrenching .

“Take me home.”

...And how could Merlin put that off?

With a sigh, he raised a hand and mumbled…

“Interminus Nocti Somburso.”

A jolt went through Hisirdoux’s already shaking body as green light popped out from his widened eyes - but only for a fleeting second before sleep claimed the boy. He fell backward, but Merlin caught him by putting his arm behind the boy’s back.

The spell not only made him fall sound asleep in seconds, but it also conjured a green, velvety blanket that draped over the boy. The velvety cloth, brought forth from Merlin’s will when he’d cast the spell, helped to keep the boy warm through means of a rather cozy enchantment that would never let him get cold as long as the blanket lay on him, as well as it would quell his unconscious trembling.

Merlin wrapped the boy up in a blanket-cocoon of sorts and stood up, letting Archie curl up on his human’s abdomen and start purring to soothe the sleeping boy whose head lolled against Merlin’s shoulder, his cheek pressed against an edge on his armor that couldn’t have been very comfortable.

Merlin glanced at the unconscious bandits and cast an immobilization spell as a quick preventative measure in the event that they woke up and tried getting away while Merlin took the boy back to the castle. There was no way in all the realms that these monsters - more monstrous than any troll or goblin - would get away with what they’d done, and the Master Wizard was absolutely sure of that.

So, with that settled, he started back to the castle with Hisirdoux sleeping in his arms. The bandits could wait, for getting his apprentice - his son home safe was his first and foremost priority, and beyond that was finding out how to get his boy’s voice back, even if he’d had to rip the answer from the bandits themselves.

But Hisirdoux, of course, was his priority.

---

Douxie felt more or less dragged back into consciousness by an ache in his… well, it was everywhere. It was low, barely noticeable - a residual soreness from… from… 

Right.

He sighed - a hollow, quiet thing - and trailed his fingers down his throat, still not opening his eyes yet. Douxie’s throat was free of any tightness or pain, but, as he expected, his attempts to mumble out vocal sounds were fruitless.

Beyond the ache, he felt warmth around him. Yes, he felt the familiarity of his bed, his quarters, his - 

A weight he didn’t even know he was still bearing came off of him, and he sighed a shaky sigh.

- his home.

But he also felt something soft and velvety draped around him. It was a blanket, he realized - a new one, and a rather nice one too. He realized Merlin must have conjured it with that sleep spell he put on him right after he found him. That must have been why it felt like it had been magically heated, and it had a uniquely soothing, almost sedative effect that none of his normal blankets had.

Master…

Douxie finally opened his eyes. Even though he knew his master probably had more pressing matters, he hoped that Merlin might have been sitting at his bedside.

Alas, all he saw was empty space in front of him.

The little apprentice wasn’t wearing his vest anymore, he realized when he couldn’t feel the leather that usually weighed on his torso, but he did feel a little purring mass curled up against his abdomen.

Archie…

The boy turned his head a little and saw a black mound of fluff nestled up against him, laying curled up on the green blanket with round little glasses reflecting sunset light from the window.

Douxie bent down and scratched Archie’s little head, right between his triangular ears, causing his familiar to open his eyes and look at him.

“Douxie, you’re awake.”

The boy smiled - a little, shaky thing. Archie got up and stretched before walking closer to his human’s face.

“It’s over now, what you went through today.” he said as he put his paw on Douxie’s cheek in assurance, “Those bandits are in the dungeons now.”

Douxie’s eyebrows furrowed a little. Sure, he was thankful that they’d been apprehended, but if there was a dungeon break, they could come right through the castle, and...

Archie nuzzled Douxie’s head, sensing his human’s worries.

“You’re completely safe.” he said, “You’ll never have to see them again, I promise.”

Douxie only petted the cat again with a nod. He trusted Archie, and if Archie said he didn’t have to worry about them again, then that’s exactly what he didn’t have to do.

Besides, he had a more pressing worry.

With what would have been a grunt if his throat could’ve made the noise, Douxie pushed himself up, despite his grogginess, into an upright position. He could see his vest folded at the foot of his bed, along with his two belts laying on top of it that had his little pouches and a small green journal he liked to keep on hand for little notes.

He might have to use it for more than that now, though. Perhaps if he’d started studying sign, or learned spells to communicate visually...

The boy was pulled from his thoughts by a very light knock on the door. He couldn’t exactly say it was open, so he turned to Archie, eyeing the door with a nod.

“Come in.” the cat said, understanding the nonverbal message.

The door creaked open, and Douxie hoped it would be Merlin standing there. After everything he’d gone through today… he just wanted to see his father.

But it was Morgana, smiling softly as she walked in and closed the door behind her.

But really, the boy wasn’t disappointed with this - the sorceress had been like a big sister to him ever since he’d been brought here, and her presence was comforting, regardless of whether or not she was the person he hoped to see the most. So, Douxie raised a hand and waved to her as she walked in.

“Hello, Little Douxie.” she said softly as she came to stand in front of him, “When I heard your familiar talking, I assumed you’d awoken. Are you feeling alright?”

Although it was a hesitant response, Douxie nodded, thankful that she’d stuck to a yes-or-no question. Merlin had probably told her about his voice’s condition, then.

What he knew about it, anyway.

“You’ve been asleep for about four hours - a long rest to help accelerate your healing.” she explained, “You hadn’t gotten any broken bones, but you did have some nasty bruises when you were brought back here.”

Douxie winced, a little hiss whistling through his teeth as he traced his hand over his hip, where he distinctly remembered getting kicked by a rather angry bandit with a rather hard boot.

Ouch.

He brought that same hand to his chin and stroked an invisible beard, glancing around the room as if looking for someone.

Morgana laughed a soft little laugh, amused by the moppet’s charade.

“Merlin’s down in the dungeons, interrogating your former captors.” she answered, “He’s mostly putting the screws to those bandits about how to reverse what’s happened to your voice more than anything else.”

Douxie nodded in understanding, but he knew the truth; he knew those bandits didn’t know anything about what had been done to his voice.

“He hasn’t gotten anywhere.” she said, putting her hands on her hips, “It’s of a magical nature, and none of those bandits were wizards. They’re sticking to some ridiculous testimony that you casted a silencing spell on yourself.”

Douxie cast his gaze to the floor. All of a sudden, the lint and strands of black cat fur on the floor looked rather interesting. Indeed, very interesting.

“...They are making that up, right?” Morgana asked.

Douxie shrunk in on himself, hugging himself as if caught in a lie, even though he hadn’t actually lied about anything. How could he have? At most, all he’d done was hesitate. Besides, his body language was apparently enough of an answer for Morgana, whose eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Douxie saw as his gaze flickered back up to her, as she realized they hadn’t made that up at all.

Archie’s eyebrows, indicated by the grey patches in his fur above his eyes, raised a bit as that realization dawned on him as well.

“Douxie…?”

The boy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“...Merlin doesn’t know, does he?” Morgana asked.

Douxie shook his head.

After a moment, she sighed.

“Well, he probably should.” she said, ���Not that the way he’s treating those men isn’t undeserved, but he shouldn’t waste his time.”

So, Douxie stood up to go down to the dungeons, his balance just a little askew from his legs’ time out of use. Archie got up with a stretch and stood next to Douxie’s feet, deciding not to sit on his shoulders due to his already imperfect balance.

“I’ll go down with you.” Morgana said, sounding like it was more of an insistence than an offer. But Douxie didn’t want to be a burden; surely, Morgana le Fay had much better - certainly, more important uses of her time than using it to accompany him to the dungeons.

“I know the way.” he mouthed, hoping it was understandable just by reading his lips, but Morgana shook her head all the same.

“It’s not about whether or not you know the way.” she crossed her arms, “You still don’t have all your strength back, and I can tell you’re off balance. What if you fall?”

She didn’t say it, but Douxie could tell what her biggest concern was: if he got hurt, he’d have no way of crying out, and Archie might not be enough to keep him balanced.

Morgana was just worried, and Douxie knew that. It was sort of nice - better than Merlin’s scolding, anyway - so he took the gesture with a nod, and he started down the corridors and stairwells to the dungeons with Archie stepping alongside him and Morgana hovering a hand close to his shoulder in the event that his balance wavered.

Douxie always hated the dungeons - so dark, so damp and dingy, so utterly miserable. But making sure Merlin knew the truth was worth it, and he was glad to be accompanied down. Yes, it was even worth sidestepping puddles of questionable liquids as he stayed next to Morgana. He kept his gaze down and avoided looking into the cells, tuning out the jeers of imprisoned trolls and “waka-chakas” of goblins as Morgana guided Douxie and Archie to the corridor where that gang of bandits was being kept.

It turned out that they were imprisoned in a far emptier corridor of the dungeon, which made sense, considering any sort of interrogation would’ve done well not to involve the taunting and interjecting of other prisoners. As the halls got quieter, it got easier to hear his master’s voice as he got closer, until he finally stood at the end of an almost empty corridor of cells, where Merlin stood listening to one of the bandits - the leader, Douxie realized.

Whoever he was, and whatever he was saying, Merlin looked more than fed up with it; he hadn’t even looked as angry as he did right now when the moppet had slipped and accidentally sent one of Merlin’s favorite books soaring into his fireplace.

“I tol’ ya already, dust-fer-brains,” the bandit said, speaking in a voice that unsettled Douxie to his core, even though he was safe on the opposite side of a barred cell door and on the opposite end of the hall, “He put a spell on ‘imself. Shut ‘imself up.”

Morgana was only a moment away from shouting to the end of the hall in an attempt to get Merlin’s attention. If Douxie had his voice, Merlin most certainly would have known he was here by now; he probably would have mumbled to himself about nonsense, or hummed a tune, or squeaked when something scared him. As it was, Merlin had no idea that Douxie was standing just a handful of metres away from him.

And maybe if he did know, he wouldn’t have shouted…

“Again, with that ridiculous lie! Hisirdoux may be an idiot, but even that level of incompetence is beyond him!”

Those words were a punch to the gut, worse than every time those bandits kicked him this afternoon. At least he expected that from them, but hearing that…

His breaths got shaky. His eyes stung. His feet felt rooted to the dungeon floor, like he was more trapped here than the prisoners.

He was no stranger to Merlin’s harshness, and he knew his master thought he was an idiot, but hearing that this was something of a new level of incompetence…

Was it really that much of a stupid idea?

His lip trembled.

What was he thinking, of course it was stupid. Of course he was stupid. A stupid, incompetent numbskull of an apprent-

“MERLIN!” Morgana yelled.

The Master Wizard whipped his head around. When he laid eyes on the shaking moppet at Morgana’s side, his face fell, as if he wished more than anything that he could’ve pulled his words back into his mouth and made them unheard again.

But it was too late.

In an instant, Douxie didn’t feel rooted to the ground anymore. No. Now it felt like hot coals lay burning under his feet, and he needed to run. Fuzzbuckets, he needed to run.

“Hisirdoux…”

Douxie’s tears fell.

He needed to run, run, runrunrunrun RUN.

So, he ran.

Pivoting on his heel so fast he scraped the heel of his boot against the dungeon ground, he ran away from the corridor.

“Hisirdoux!”

“Douxie!”

His eyes stung so badly with tears that he couldn’t open them, but he knew the dungeon corridors well enough that he didn’t need to see to get out of there. He could tell Archie was at his side, but that was okay. He knew his familiar wasn’t trying to stop him, but only to catch up to him.

By the time he got to the stairwell back into the non-dungeony part of the castle, he’d gotten winded, and just barely in earshot, he could hear Merlin and Morgana getting in a shouting match.

It sounded like Morgana was winning.

Once he’d caught his breath, he ran up the stairwell and half-ran-half-stumbled to his room, making sure Archie slipped through the door before slamming it. His legs shook as he sat on his bed, curling his legs up so his knees almost touched his chest, which felt so tight that he could barely breathe without gasping.

It was too much. All of it, everything that happened - it was too much for one day, and he -

He could feel Archie drape that blanket from earlier over his shoulders - the green velvety one. The warm one. The one from - 

Douxie shook his head and wrapped the fabric around himself. It was fine, he didn’t care who it was from. He just needed warmth; he needed heat that didn’t come from his face feeling like it was on fire and hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

After a few moments, keeping his legs curled up like that started to ache, so he stretched them out and let his feet lay on the floor while he sat at the edge of the bed, leaving a perfect spot in his lap for Archie to sit and start purring in that way that always calmed him down after his nightmares.

Maybe, Douxie thought as he stroked the cat in his lap while his torso rocked back and forth, Archie could calm him down from this nightmare, too - one he couldn’t seem to wake up from.

There was a tightness in his throat now, an awful one - not from the spell, but from being overwhelmed by all of this.

Today was one of the most terrifying days of his life.

He’d been ripped off the streets by bandits and taken where he wasn’t sure if he’d be found, or even be looked for. He’d been bound and chained and beaten and terrified. He didn’t even have his voice, and of course, Merlin thought he was more stupid for doing what he did than usual, even though he only did it because - because -

Douxie hugged the cat in his lap and let more tears stream down his face, and he realized there was one upside to not having his voice after all.

He didn’t need to stifle his cries.

---

Merlin was no stranger to guilt, to shame. He didn’t often make mistakes, but when he did, they were horrendous ones, and despite his sense of pride being strong enough that it could power a whole trollmarket, he’d had many opportunities to find himself well acquainted with the feeling that he’d done something horribly wrong.

But when he saw his apprentice’s wide eyes shine with tears at the end of that hall, shame didn’t feel like a mere acquaintance, but an inseparable companion.

He’d barely gotten the boy’s name out of his mouth before he turned on his heel and ran out of the corridor, his familiar running behind him. Merlin shouted the boy’s name again and started after him, but since he wasn’t weighed down by any armor, the gangly little moppet ran off rather fast, despite how exhausted he must have been.

Stopping at the corner of the dungeon corridor, Merlin put his hand to his forehead and groaned.

“Look what you’ve done, old man!” he heard Morgana shout next to him.

“It’s not as if I knew he’d be down here.” he brought his hand away from his face, “I thought he was still resting. How was I supposed to know you’d taken him down here?”

Morgana’s eyes widened, seemingly at his absurdity.

“So you’re saying that’s a fine thing to say about him when he isn’t around? That there’s nothing wrong with calling that boy - your apprentice - an idiot and making clear just how stupid you think he is, as long as he’s out of earshot?”

“You’ve seen the way that boy bungles every task he’s given. Really, it would be especially idiotic if he’d put a-”

“What do you think he came down here to tell you, old man?!”

...Oh.

Oh, confound it all.

Morgana pinched the bridge of her nose, “Honestly, and you wonder why his magic backfires whenever you’re around! How can he grow his confidence when you-”

“Why would he do that, Morgana?”

“Why would I know ?” she answered his question with one of her own, “As soon as I found out, I figured you should know. Better to stop wasting your time grilling these numbskulls over nothing. If you want to know so bad, go and ask him.”

But facing the most fierce of trolls had been less jarring a task.

His other apprentice crossed her arms, “You owe him an apology, old man. We both know that.”

And, as frustrating as it was, Merlin knew that indeed.

The wizard figured that Hisirdoux ran to his room, and when he got to the door, he found he was right; he could hear the boy’s hiccups and voiceless sobs from the other side, far more heartbreaking in their quietness than if they had been loud.

Merlin knocked on the door.

“Hisirdoux…”

He honestly wasn’t expecting to be let in at all, so he was surprised to see the door glow blue as Hisirdoux opened it with a spell. If this was a lighter time, he would have scolded the boy for using a spell so needlessly. But this obviously wasn’t a lighter time, and he was just glad to be allowed in.

Hisirdoux sat on the edge of his bed with the blanket he’d been given draped over his shoulders and a contemptuous black cat in his lap. His hair was still unkempt from his ordeal, completely loose from the bun he usually wore, and tears streaked his cheeks. His big hazel eyes, puffy and ringed with tears, stared down at the ground.

He couldn’t even look Merlin in the eye, and perhaps that was fair.

As Merlin stepped into the room, Hisirdoux shrunk in on himself, pulling more of the blanket around him as if it would shield him from… well, everything.

“I hope you’re here to apologize.” Archie said coldly, but the feline-dragon obviously meant something else, an unspoken message: If you’re not here to apologize, then leave. The boy’s had enough turmoil today.

But he was here to apologize.

After years of trying to prepare for everything he could as a Master Wizard, he knew as he stood there that he was unprepared for what to say, standing here in front of Hisirdoux. He had no speech prepared, no ageless wisdom or proverbs. He wasn’t ready.

...But he knew that his apprentice sitting on the edge of the bed, staring glassy eyed at the floor with tears streaking his cheeks - tears of the old man’s own doing - had gone through too much today that he wasn’t ready for, that he could never be ready for. Far too much.

And he deserved better than to have to wait for an apology.

“Hisirdoux, I’m sorry.”

His apprentice lifted his head and looked up at him, eyes widened and eyebrows raised as if he never in a million years expected to hear an apology of all things from him. But what did he expect, then? A scolding? A lecture on how dangerous what he did was?

A moment later, Merlin realized that was probably exactly what the boy expected, and on all levels except physical, the wizard was whacking himself in the head with his staff right now.

He knelt down on one knee in front of Hisirdoux, both because he wanted to be on eye level with the boy and because he couldn’t stand the thought of him feeling looked down upon any longer.

“The things I said to those men in the dungeons were products of anger, fabrications of desperation.” Merlin said, “I’d been furious at those lowlifes and their audacity, and I said things that weren’t true. It wasn’t fair to say that, especially not after all you’ve gone through today. Forgive me, Hisirdoux.”

But the boy looked like he didn’t know what to say, even if he could’ve spoken. He looked at the old Wizard with wide eyes that still glistened with tears - tears that seemed to have been there ever since Merlin first found Hisirdoux in that shack. Even his familiar seemed surprised by his apology, and to be completely honest, Merlin didn’t blame either of them.

Hisirdoux broke his gaze away and looked down, to his left.

Patting around, the boy’s hand landed on his little green journal and a charcoal stick he kept with it, both clipped to his belt that lay on top of his folded vest. When Hisirdoux opened the book and started to write in the first blank piece of parchment he could flip to, Merlin looked away. He didn’t want to pry - he’d done enough as it was.

After a few seconds of scribbling, Archie stepped on the parchment.

“That’s not true, Douxie.” he said about whatever the boy had written, “You shouldn’t say that about yourself, especially not now.”

But the boy just sighed and started writing again, the motion in his hand leaving Archie no choice but to take his paw off.

After a few more moments, Douxie flipped the book around to show Merlin.

“It’s alright, Master. I know I’m an idiot.” he’d written in that shoddy penmanship of his.

Right, that must’ve been what Archie denied.

“I know there’s a lot I mess up and don’t think through, and I know that most of the time, I can be awfully incompetent, but using that spell is one of the few times where I know that did something smart.”

Merlin sighed.

“But why did you do it, Hisirdoux?”

Hisirdoux hesitated, but Archie looked up at the boy with the same question in mind, and that seemed to be what convinced him to answer.

But this time, he set the journal and charcoal aside. Instead of using those tools to communicate, he brought his hands out in front of him. With the way his hands started to tremble, he was obviously about to cast a nonverbal spell.

Archie stepped back a few paces, “It seems he’d rather show than tell.”

Merlin didn’t think Hisirdoux was in the right state to carry out any sort of spells right now, weakened as he was, but nonetheless, he didn’t stop the boy.

In the future, Hisirdoux would become capable of more powerful spells as his experience grew, and one such spell would be able to create vivid - albeit ghostly - life-size apparitions that replay events of the past in to-scale space. But this wasn’t the future, and he was nowhere near that strong or experienced yet. All he could manage was a little phantom-ish playthrough of events in the little space in front of him, like he was holding in his hands a hazy, blue-tinted window into the past.

Even then, “hazy” was an understatement. The several figures that seemed to be huddled a bit away from where Hisirdoux must’ve been (Merlin rightly assumed the vision in front of him was from the boy’s point of view) looked distorted and grainy, barely distinguishable as those bandits from before. What else, their voices were fuzzy, dreadful murmurs overlapping on top of each other until they were almost indistinguishable.

Merlin couldn’t tell if this haziness in memory reflected how much of a blur the events were in the boy’s mind, or if this was just the best Hisirdoux could manage.

It seemed not to be the latter though, because he squeezed his eyes shut and curled his fingers a little, obviously trying to use more of his strength to make the events more clear. His efforts actually worked, much to a worried Merlin’s surprise and worry, and the bandits’ voices became much easier to hear, their awful words far more enunciated. 

“This was probably a stupid move.” one of them said, “How’re we s’posed to know that wizard gives a rat’s tail about ‘is errand boy, anyway?”

“If he does, imagine the coin we could get ou’o it.” said another voice Merlin knew was the leader.

“An’ if not, we’re stuck wit’ a brat from the castle.” yet another said, followed by a thwack sound that must have been the leader smacking him in the head, if the distorted movement of the figures was any indication.

“If not , we’ve got a vault o’ information on all those wizard-y secrets they keep in th’ castle. Maybe stuff abou’ the king, too.” the insidious leader corrected, “We can beat it ou’a ‘im if we ‘ave to.”

“Not much to beat though, is there?” another bandit joked, “Gangly little brat.”

Then the view changed, and Hisirdoux’s own trembling hands came into focus. Through the phantom replay, his ghostly fingers’ movements were light but hasty as he tapped his bracelet. This must have been before his captors had the idea to restrain him, but Hisirdoux was clearly afraid they’d get the idea soon (and rightly so, as the condition Merlin found him in made clear that they obviously had), so as soon as his bracelet glowed, he whispered… 

“Vox Silentii.”

Immediately, Hisirdoux gasped in the vision. The noise became more hollow with each passing millisecond, as if - no, because his voice fell away just as fast, sucked away by the enchantment.

And it got the bandits’ attention, shown clearly by the nightmarish figures turning to face him.

“Sod it, I thought you stuck the cuffs on ‘im already!” the leader yelled to one of the other bandits, and whether it was at the display of incompetence, or out of sheer relief that his self-destructive spell worked, Hisirdoux laughed. It was a hollow, raspy, voiceless thing, but clearly a laugh all the same - a laugh that carried on until the leader marched over and raised his boot and - 

The spell dissipated, and though it only lasted a few moments, it clearly took a lot out of an already weakened Hisirdoux in the present, whose arms fell to his sides as he started to sway, his eyes rolling back as his eyelids fluttered.

“Hisirdoux!” Merlin exclaimed, reaching out to steady him.

Before the boy could collapse, Merlin put one hand on his shoulder and the other against his head, cradling the side of it. Internally, he cursed himself, for he knew he should have told Hisirdoux not to carry out that vision spell, and to simply stick to writing out an answer. He’d already been exhausted by both the stress of his ordeal and the lingering effects of whatever nullifier was in his cuffs, and his magic, like everything else, was weakened, and the toll it took on him was far higher than usual.

But it hadn’t exhausted him completely. Though it took a moment, Hisirdoux put his hands down on the bed on either side of him to help keep himself upright, and his tired, tired eyes opened again.

“That spell…” Merlin pulled his hands away, “I had you study it in the event that you encountered another wizard with harmful intentions, so you could cut them off from saying an incantation at your expense.”

Fumbling to get his journal again, Hisirdoux quickly jotted something down and held up, “and sirens.”

“And you knew you couldn’t reverse the spell without a vocal incantation, didn’t you? An incantation you knew those bandits couldn’t perform.”

Hisirdoux nodded, and Merlin sighed. As much as the boy bumbled around as he did his chores, seeming at times like there was naught a competent thought to be found in that brain of his, he was clever. Even when it came to sabotaging himself, he was clever.

But somehow, that cleverness coincided with recklessness in a way that only Hisirdoux Casperan could manage.

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? If you’d botched the spell, it could have closed up your windpipe, or-”

“This isn’t the time for scolding him, Merlin.” Archie reprimanded. There had been few times where the Master Wizard adhered to the advisings of a cat with glasses, but for his apprentice’s sake, this was one of those times.

Hisirdoux got his journal again and wrote…

“I’d never been tortured like that before. I didn’t know if I could’ve handled it.”

The thought of his apprentice - that sweet, gangly moppet who’d been bested by his own broom once - enduring any sort of torture made the Master Wizard’s skin crawl. He almost wanted to convince King Arthur that those bandits’ transgressions warranted far more harsh treatment than wallowing in their own despicability in the dungeons, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was focusing on Hisirdoux right now, he would go to the throne room right now.

But as it was, Merlin thought Hisirdoux was probably right; it was obvious that he had never endured torture, or…

Merlin reconsidered when he remembered that the boy knew how to use sleep spells that caused permanent memory loss.

...None that Hisirdoux himself could recall, at least.

“It’s not that I would’ve wanted to say anything.” he wrote on a new page, “I was scared I’d blurt something out. And I got knocked out before I woke up there, so I didn’t know where I was, so I didn’t try running away. It was the smartest thing I could think of.”

...Of course. Of course that’s what this was. Of course the boy would’ve taken such a drastic measure, but for what ? So those lowlife scoundrels didn’t have an upper hand, an advantage over a Master Wizard? No, it was too late for that, for they already had the biggest advantage over Merlin that they could’ve held in their grasp; they had his son, the one individual he would always put above the greater good, as a hostage.

Really, not only was Hisirdoux the only apprentice Merlin ever had who was as clever as he was reckless, but the only one who was as selfless as he was reckless - a combination that Merlin couldn’t decide whether or not he was more proud of or worried about.

“...I can reverse the spell now, you know.” he said, “Now that I know which spell you used, I can use a counterspell.”

The little Wizard’s eyes widened hopefully, as if the prospect of a counterspell was a shock.

“Oh, come now, Hisirdoux. Surely you knew-”

Oh.

He stopped.

No.

“Wait a moment… you did know another wizard can cast a counterspell to reverse the effects and restore your voice, did you not?”

As his eyebrows upturned, making him look like a scolded puppy, the boy shook his head.

...Oh, sod it all.

If Merlin Ambrosius were a swearing man, he’d have a sailor’s tongue right now.

Hisirdoux didn’t think the spell could be reversed, and he did it anyway. He thought it would be permanent, and he did it anyway. For all that boy knew, he’d taken his own voice away forever; he’d taken what he’d always used to blather on about nonsense and sing his heart out (albeit very off-key), and he destroyed it.

Merlin put his hand to his forehead, only pulling it down when he heard the boy scribbling again.

“Making sure they didn’t find out anything about wizards felt more important.” he’d written in frantic scribbles, “Or Camelot, or King Arthur, or Morgana, or you, Master.”

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose.

“So you thought this would’ve been permanent,” he tried to keep his voice level, “that you would have lost your voice forever, and you did it anyway, just to nullify the hair-slim possibility that you might have revealed some secret to those idiots?”

Hisirdoux looked down and wrote again.

“It felt like-”

No.

No, no, no.

Merlin saw the words at the end of that page, but he did not want to read them. Reading them made them real…

...But they would be real whether he read them or not, and he knew that.

“It felt like the greater good.”

Merlin never thought he could hate that concept as much as he did right now.

No, the greater good was something for him to prioritize - him and him alone, and it never came at the cost of the safety and wellbeing of his son. If it did cost him that, then let the greater good fester and crumble to dust.

Hisirdoux curled his arms and hugged himself, looking down at Archie as the feline nuzzled his arm to soothe him. As much as it pained him to see the boy like this, he couldn’t bring himself to comfort him - not when he had a solution right at his fingertips.

“Hisirdoux, do you want your voice back?”

The boy lifted his head and nodded, almost pleading with his eyes, as if there was ever a chance of Merlin denying him the return of his voice.

The wizard raised his hand and said…

“Vox restituet.”

Hisirdoux gasped, just as he did with his own spell, but it’s effect was contrary to that of the former enchantment; the sound became less and less hollow with each fleeting millisecond as the boy’s voice came back to him.

When his breathing fell back into its normal pace, Hisirdoux traced his fingers down his throat.

“Master…”

His voice sounded so hoarse, so little, but it was there , and as soon as Hisirdoux realized that, his whole body seemed to relax in relief that he probably didn’t even let himself feel when he’d first been rescued.

Merlin was relieved too, but it was outweighed by so much - most of all, by the contempt he still held for those bandits down in the dungeons for making his apprentice feel like he needed to do this to himself, and by the guilt he still felt for what he said down there.

Not only was his relief outweighed, but it was also short-lived.

“...I’m sorry.”

No. No, Hisirdoux did not just say that.

Out of all the things Merlin expected his apprentice to say… at best, he expected thanks for restoring his voice, and at worst, he expected him to voice how upset and hurt he still must’ve been for the things he said about him down in the dungeons. But never, never in a millenia, did he expect an apology.

“Whatever for?” Merlin asked. Truly, whatever for? Hisirdoux had done nothing but endure; but withstand circumstances beyond unfit for those as innocent as him, and do what he thought would protect what was important to him at a cost that Merlin himself could barely imagine - could barely conceptualize even now.

“I really really didn’t mean for this to be such a hassle,” Hisirdoux answered, coughing from his voice’s disuse, “and I’m really not upset about what you said in the dungeons. Everything was just too much, and back there, with the bandits, I just didn’t want to put you in danger-”

“No, Hisirdoux.” Merlin declared, putting two of his fingers against one of his temples. It seemed like now that Hisirdoux could speak again, there was a backlog to his blathering. “None of that.”

Hisirdoux’s eyebrows upturned with that scolded puppy look again, “None of what?”

“None of this…” Merlin gestured vaguely, “throwing yourself in harm’s way for my sake. There’s no sense in that. It is not your job to fling yourself into self-destruction in what you think is my best interest. You are my apprentice, Hisirdoux.”

You are my son . Merlin didn’t say.

“And it is my job to protect you, not the other way around.” he told Hisirdoux with no room for argument, “Your job is to focus on your studies and the tasks I ask of you. Should you ever find yourself at someone else’s mercy again, your first priority should be keeping yourself unharmed, or as close to such a state as possible. Secrets can be stopped from spreading, and memories can be wiped, but you are-"

He almost said invaluable, but he stopped himself; though he himself knew the word meant to be priceless or crucial, he feared for the chance that his apprentice could take the word to have a completely opposite meaning, that he was not valuable at all.

"You are indispensable, Hisirdoux.”

Merlin loathed the look of disbelief on the boy’s face when he heard that, but he continued.

“Whatever it entails, self-preservation should come before all else until you’re rescued, because you will be rescued.”

Hisirdoux nodded - a little, minute thing.

“I understand, Master.”

Merlin stood up.

“You must be starving.” he said, “I’ll have something prepared and brought here. You should go back to sleep until then.”

Hisirdoux nodded and pulled the green blanket over his shoulders again, the cloth having fallen off sometime a bit ago, after Merlin came in.

The boy looked down in thought as if remembering something before raising his head again.

“...They didn’t have what you asked for. At the marketplace. Every shop and stand came up empty.” Hisirdoux said, apologetic for the lack of the one thing he’d been sent out to fetch - as if it even mattered after all of this.

No, if anything, the whole errand being for nothing was just another frustration of the day, mundane - no, trivial in the face of everything else.

Also, it brought another pressing matter to the Master Wizard’s attention.

“That’s quite alright.” Merlin said, “If anything, that reminds me: clearly, it’s far too dangerous for you to go on errands in town unaccompanied. As my apprentice, there are many unfavorable people looking to get an advantage over me and use you as leverage to do so, just like those bandits tried today. So, for the time being, you’ll be chaperoned on your future errands outside the castle.”

“But-” he started, but, as if he remembered what Merlin always said when he tried to question him, he cut himself off and nodded, still looking deflated nonetheless.

“It’s a necessary precaution at this point, Hisirdoux.” Merlin said, “Even if it gets in the way of you trying to get the attention of that girl at the shops.”

The boy’s cheeks tinted pink.

“It’s not about her!” he yelped, his voice’s strength obviously coming back rather quickly, “You already told me not to focus on that, and I didn’t even try talking to her today.”

“You never try talking to her, Douxie.” Archie said, pacing around the boy. But Hisirdoux didn’t let himself get distracted by his familiar teasing him.

“It’s…”

He sighed.

“...I don’t want to be a burden.” he confessed, “There are so many more important things to be done around here. Why should anyone waste their time coming with me on errands?”

At this, Merlin realized that it was his turn to sigh. If there was a spell Merlin could use to cast such insecurity from the boy’s head, he would have cast it now. But, much to his frustration, he couldn’t (at least, not without facing something of a moral dilemma over the ethics of mind control). So, simple reassurance would have to do.

“Hisirdoux…”

He placed his free hand - the one not holding onto his staff - on the boy’s shoulder, causing him to look up at the old wizard with wide, questioning eyes.

“Keeping you safe isn’t a burden.” Merlin assured, “I would rather take a few hours out of the day to accompany you, or even complete those errands on my own, than ever have a repeat occurrence of what happened today.”

“...Alright.” Hisirdoux said, although obviously reluctant.

Merlin took his hand off of his shoulder.

“Now, you’re to keep resting the rest of the night, and likely for much of tomorrow, so-”

“But Master-”

“-Don’t “But Master” me.” he said, “Just rest.”

The heaviness in the boy’s eyelids made clear how much he needed that rest, and thankfully, Hisirdoux didn’t contest that.

“Yes, Master.”

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 9

AO3

Prev

Marinette blinks at the house in front of her in shock. She didn’t know what she had expected when Dick had mentioned a trapeze at his house. She definitely hadn’t expected the house to look like...this.

“Your house is freaking huge.” Marinette says.

“Not my house. It’s the guy who adopted us. Me and Dickie bird.” Jason says, slinging an arm over Adrien’s shoulders to reach over and ruffle her hair. 

“Are you sure that it’s okay we’re here?” She asks, frowning. 

“Sure! Besides, B’s probably still at work.” Dick says, grinning as the door opens. 

“Master Dick, Master Jason. I see you’ve brought guests.” An older man says, quirking an eyebrow. Marinette smiles awkwardly. 

“Hi. I’m Marinette, and this is Adrien.” She says, extending her hand. The man nods, shaking her hand. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss. I am the family’s butler and caretaker, Alfred Pennyworth.” He says. Marinette smiles. 

“Nice to meet you as well, Monsieur Pennyworth.” She says. 

“I’m gonna go try and show Mari here some trapeze moves.” Dick explains with a wide grin. 

“Very well. Should I plan for two more at dinner?” Mr. Pennyworth asks. 

“Oh, no, I don’t-” Marinette starts to argue, but Dick cuts her off. 

“Yes please!” He says before hurrying down the hallway. “Come on slowpokes!” He adds with a grin. Marinette looks at Jason pleadingly. 

“You’re the one who said you were gonna adopt Dick as your brother. This is all on you, Pixie Pop.” He says with a smirk, continuing to walk after Dick. Marinette groans, but follows, glaring at Adrien who snorts at her pain. 

“You’re a little bitch.” She mumbles under her breath, glaring at him. He rolls his eyes. 

“You know you love me.” He says. Marinette speeds up her walk, careful to keep Dick in sights at all times. This place was huge. She bumps into Adrien, nudging him with her shoulder as they walk down the hall. 

“Okay, okay, are you guys ready for this?” Dick asks, stopping in front of closed double doors. Marinette nods and Dick grins before pushing open the doors. Her jaw drops as she looks into the gym. It had everything you could possibly want or need. Including a bunch of gymnastics equipment, aerial silks and a trapeze. It was amazing. 

“Wow.” She says, eyes wide as she looks around. This was even cooler than she’d imagined. 

“Man, this would’ve been helpful a year ago.” Adrien mumbles, and Marinette snorts, knowing he’s thinking back to their rooftop training sessions with Jason. And all the times they got scraped up from the rough roofs. She glances over at Jason, noticing the thoughtful look on his face. Probably thinking the same thing, she thinks before turning back to Dick. 

“So, how do we start?” She asks, bouncing back and forth between the balls of her feet. This was going to be so freaking cool!

---

This is so worth a trip to Gotham! Marientte thinks to herself as she flies through the air. Dick was surprised at how quickly she caught on for her first time (she pointedly ignored the snorts from Adrien and Jason who both knew this was not her first time flying through the air). Once they get back to the platform, Dick’s phone starts to ring and he smiles apologetically. 

“I’ve really gotta take this.” He says, darting down the ladder and rushing out of the gym to answer his phone. Marinette shrugs and follows him down the latter, punching Jason’s arm as she walks by him to grab a drink of water. 

“Ow, what the hell was that for?” He asks, rubbing his arm and glaring at the girl. 

“I saw you two idiots laughing at me.” She replies, shrugging. 

“Why do you still punch so hard?” Jason asks, and she can tell he’s starting to be concerned for her. She recognizes the look on his face. 

“Pent up aggression from fighting an emotional terrorist for a good chunk of my adolescence.” She deapans. He raises an eyebrow and she huffs. “Okay, I took up boxing.” 

“So have you both kept up with training?” He asks, visibly concerned. Marinette shares a look with Adrien, trying to decide if she should be honest or not. But...it’s Jason. So she has to be. 

“Yeah….” She draws out the word before sighing, pushing her bangs back from her face. “In our defense, it’s hard to go back to being a civilian after being a hero for several years. It’s just- especially with Guardian shit, right? Like, that’s a lifetime commitment. If I give it up, I give up my memories. I can’t do that, Jay. I’d forget you and Adrien and I can’t do that. So I don’t-” She pauses and lets herself take a breath. “I don’t have a choice.” Jason’s face drops into a scowl, but she knows it’s not directed at her. As much as she admired Master Fu, he was not the best mentor. And he left her without a choice when it came to hero work. Something she knew that Jason couldn’t forgive him for. Even if she tried to.

“Come on, we’re gonna spar.” Jason instructs, not giving her a chance to object. She sighs, but follows him over to the mats, immediately getting into position. 

“I fight better than I did a year ago.” She warns, and Jason grins. 

“That’s what I’m counting on Pixie Pop.” He says, immediately lunging towards her. Marinette jumps back, staying light on her feet as she gets used to sparring with Jason again. He wasn’t slow by any means, but he was much bigger than her, which meant he couldn’t jump around as lightly as she did. She’d have to use his weight against him. She leaps to the side and then brings a swift kick up, using her foot to kick his thigh, hard. He stumbles slightly, grinning widely before throwing a swing. Deciding to use his momentum, she grabs onto his arm and lets the swing of his arm lift her up so that she can wrap her arms around his neck in a chokehold as she clings to his back. 

“Oh come on Jay, don’t tell me you’ve already lost!” Adrien teases from the side. Marinette feels Jason tense and can tell he’s about to throw himself down, which would definitely end the fight for her. Instead of letting him get that far, she moves her hands to grip onto his shoulders and vault herself over him, rolling out of the leap and jumping back up, grinning from ear to ear. 

“You’ve learned some new tricks.” Jason praises, squaring his stance once again. 

“Enough to beat you, old man.” She teases, snorting at the faux hurt on Jason’s face. 

“You wound me, Pix.” He says, clutching his heart and shutting his eyes as if in pain. Marinette decides to use his momentary theatrics to her advantage and delivers a swift kick to the back of his left leg, throwing all of her weight into the kick. Jason yelps in surprise, and falls to the ground. 

“Jump rope!” She calls out to Adrien, knowing she saw one earlier. And also knowing that there was no way she could keep Jason pinned without assistance. She holds her hand up, catching the rope that Adrien tosses to her, using it to quickly tie his ankles and wrists together. She steps back and admires her handy work, snorting at the shocked look on Jason’s face. Slow claps coming from the doorway make her snap to attention, turning and glancing at the intruder. Her eyes widen at the boy, who appeared to be around their age. With dark spiky hair and brilliant green eyes- No. Bad Mari, stop falling for green eyes. Ugh. She blinks, shoving the thoughts from her mind. 

“Er- hi.” She says awkwardly, glancing over at Adrien who simply shrugs. 

“Who is it?” Jason asks, since he’s currently not facing the door. Marinette glances down at him and smirks. 

“Oh, you mean you can’t see, Jay? Why ever would that be?” She teases. He huffs. 

“I don’t know, some crazy Pixie chick tied me up with a freaking jump rope like an angry kindergartner.” He gripes back. She crosses her arms. 

“You do realize that ‘angry kindergartner’ is the only one who can untie you, right?” She asks, choosing to ignore the stranger in the doorway for now. 

“Not true. Someone else came in, and Adrien can also untie a couple knots.” Jason argues. Marinette glances at Adrien who shakes his head, despite the fact that Jason can’t see. 

“Yeah, sorry Jay. I’m not going against Mari. She’s kinda scary.” Adrien says, making Jason whine. 

“Who the fuck is at the door then?” He asks, obviously starting to lose his patience. 

“Tt. As if I would help you, Todd.” The boy says and Marinette feels herself melt slightly at his voice. It was so- NO. BAD MARI. STOP. NO. 

“His name’s Jason.” Adrien pipes up, and Marinette turns to him, frowning. Because, yes, his name is Jason. So then what-

“His last name is Todd.” The boy says, and Adrien’s face turns red. He rubs the back of his neck- his go to ‘I’m feeling awkward right now’ pose. 

“Oops.” He says with a lopsided smile. Marinette rolls her eyes playfully at him before turning back and looking right in the boy’s eyes. 

“Hi, I’m Marinette Dupain Cheng. That dork over there is Adrien.” She introduces with a short wave. 

“Pleasure. I’m Damian Wayne.” The boy, Damian, introduces. Marinette smiles at him, feeling herself start to get lost in his eyes again. It wouldn’t hurt to look for just a minute, besides, he wasn’t looking away either. And his eyes were such a pretty color-

“Could someone please fucking untie me.” Jason groans. Marinette blushes furiously, dropping down and swiftly untying Jason. 

“Sorry Jay.” She apologizes, wincing at the annoyed look on his face as he stands up. He simply grunts and ruffles her hair, making her protest. 

“S’okay Pix. Besides, now you can take me down without using Adrien as a distraction. Big improvement.” He compliments and her annoyed face quickly morphs into a wide smile. 

“Alfred sent me to let you know dinner is ready.” Damian says, an annoyed expression on his face. Marinette immediately blushes again and glances at Jason who simply raises an eyebrow. She groans and falls back in line with Adrien who had a knowing smirk on his face. 

“Shut up.” She mutters, elbowing the boy. He snorts, shaking his head at her. Jason starts to walk out, trading insults with Damian as the group makes their way to the dining room. 

“Whatever you say, Bug.” He says, throwing an arm over her shoulder. She narrows her eyes at him. 

“Say anything, and I’ll beat you with your own arm.” She whispers. He holds up his hands in surrender and she sighs in relief. Hopefully they’d make it through this dinner without Adrien embarrassing the hell out of her. Following Jason and Damian into what had to be the dining room, she’s surprised to see a guy a couple years older than them, and a much taller man who had to be Jason’s dad. 

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met.” He says, extending a hand. “I’m Bruce Wayne.” He says with a wide (but false, Marinette notes, watching how it doesn’t reach his eyes) smile. Marinette’s eyes widen and she glances at Jason who just rolls his eyes. 

“Mari, Adrien, this is my….father.” He says the word as if it’s bitter. Marinette makes a note to ask about that later. They’d already sent one asshole father to prison, she had no problems sending another. 

“Nice to meet you.” Marinette says, shaking his hand, her smile not reaching her eyes either. She wouldn’t give him a real smile, not until she’d talked to Jason about it. He had helped them so much, it only made sense to help him too. Dinner should be interesting.

Next

Tag list (open) @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat @queenz-z @daminette-56 

[tunafishprincess]

Darkening Seas

A DFO Secret Santa gift for Moon_Lantern

——————————

Izuku feared many things in his short sixteen years of existence.

As a child he feared the wails of ocean storms, huddled in bed with his mother as rain and wind pounded their small home, a common monster for the children of his small village. She would whisper spells of protection as he clung to her form, as if the storm itself were trying to get inside.

It wasn’t until he didn’t receive his mark that he learned that there were greater fears, the kinds that haunted him to this day. Fears of losing friends, for one. For another, fear of the village’s suspicions whenever something bad happened. The Markless weren’t a common bunch and in his childhood home, he was the only one in several generations not to be blessed by a god.

In spite of all the fears he had, however, there was always hope. His mother, even on her deathbed, always promised him a better tomorrow. Even if today was bad, there was always a chance that the next day would bring a better outcome. She was right in a way. It was hope that brought him to All Might, a hero beyond compare that bestowed his own Mark onto the boy, a power that still hummed beneath his skin.

His muddy fingers rose subconsciously, patting at the tattoo on his shoulder. Traveling with All Might had been a dream beyond comparison.

Sadly, all dreams must come to an end.

As a teen, he learned to fear more than village discrimination. At fifteen, he discovered that not all gods bestowed gifts.

All Might taught him to respect the old gods, but not to bow to their whims. When the sea attacked the land, Izuku followed his mentor to the battle, ready to die a hero. Instead, his mentor had been swallowed by the sea and Izuku---

Well, death would have been preferable at this point.

Another itch broke out near his neck. He scratched at the spot but the move did little to soothe the real problem: he needed a bath.

Begrudgingly, he stomped out the rest of his fire, gathering his things to make the small trek to the lagoon he’d been eyeing days before. There wasn’t much to pack, though he wasn’t sure whether he should be thankful or not about that. His food rations had dwindled considerably these past few weeks, his fear of exposure outweighing his need to resupply. He still had aways to go before he got back to the great city of Musutafu. Even if his ailment could not be cured he at least had friends who would care for him there.

His throat bobbed. Well, he hoped he still did.

He arrived at the lagoon within a few hours time, the area as empty as the first time he’d spotted it. It set him on edge.

As beautiful and blue as the seawater seemed, the Kamino sea lay just beyond the exposed shoal.

He licked at his cracked lips nervously. His skin ached to be cleaned and he knew he probably smelled horrendous from so many weeks on the road without washing. Peeling off his dirty clothes, he set them aside from his bag, hiding both in-between the rocks high above the waters.

Goosebumps ran up his arms as he approached the waters. The sun was still high enough in the sky, though a few clouds did beckon across the skyline, the promise of rain both a blessing and a curse with his current predicament.

Hopping onto a large rock, he observed the depths before finally taking the plunge.

Fire traveled through his veins as the curse took hold. He closed his eyes to avoid it, but he felt the changes, bones cracking and reshaping to the curse’s preference. Where once were two average feet now had melted together like butter, soon followed by his calves and thighs until it was all one limb. His nails transformed into claws as he clenched his fists. Tiny pinpricks of pain erupted across what were once two legs, the formation of scales and webbing overwhelming to his enhanced senses. By the end, he was a shaking pitiful mess, his now alien tongue running along the rows and rows of teeth inside his mouth as he took in his first breath of seawater.

He hated how much he had craved this.

His ears flipped back and lowered as far as they could go, a subconscious response to his predicament.

Old Gods be damned, he inwardly cursed, lowering himself down to the sand. He brushed his body with the coarse material, ridding himself of the dead skin and grim he’d accumulated. Moments later he rolled over on his back, repeating the process for several minutes until he was clean.

The first transformation he had cried, mourning the loss of his mentor and fearing the loss of his humanity. Now, on his fifth time, he just wanted to get it over and done with, hating all the strange sensations he had now as one of the very creatures his mentor fought back into the sea only a few months prior.

He blinked, second eyelids a half-second slower than his first, observing the underwater world around him with interest. He didn’t have much time to enjoy his surroundings, however.

The scent of food captured his stomach’s attention. Before he even had time to think his body began to move, less the awkward teen he was and more of the predator he had become.

On a normal day, he would not have been so adventurous, but Izuku had finished his last meager rations two days ago and hadn’t had meat in an even longer time. It would be fine, he reasoned, he was still in the lagoon and the sun would be up for several more hours.

The pristine sand landscape slowly transformed into a dense rocky forest of dead coral. It was a beautiful but haunting reminder of how cruel the sea could be, giving and taking away life like the gods who ruled them.

The water tickled his hair as he swam down the slope of the lagoon, the scent growing stronger as the light began to fade.

He hoped it was something edible, perhaps a glow whale like the one meal All Might introduced him to so many months ago after his first battle. His lips pulled upwards at the memory. Even the tough skin of an Armored Squid or a greasy Floor-Feeder Fish would taste like heaven at this point. His stomach gurgled, instincts driving him further and further away from shore.

Strangely, the slope seems to be reversing the further he swims, ascending until he spots a familiar group of rocks he had come across but only a few days before. The problem was, he thought with a nervous gulp, they had been part of the shoal that protected the lagoon.

He shook his head. No, no that couldn’t be right. That would mean the waters had risen by several meters and Izuku would have felt that.

But what about the high tide, the logical part of him pointed out, sending his mind into a frenzy.

His gaze flickered to the sky, noting the sun’s position with alarm. Had it truly been more than an hour? He returned his attention to the rocks. It could be his mind playing tricks on him. It wouldn’t be the first time. Paranoia had been a constant companion since he lost his mentor. The small fading hope that All Might was still alive had battled with the fear of the old gods wrecking further vengeance upon the teen for stepping into their domain.

His stomach ached. This was no longer a want, but a need. His hand glided over the Mark on his shoulder. The warmth pulsed beneath his palm. He would get the food and get back to shore as soon as possible. His tail swished impatiently as he drew out the energy of One for All. Veins of light traveled down his scales. With one kick he was zooming past the white rocks, deeper and deeper into the watery expanse.

The first change he noted was the life in this part of the waters. Tiny fish (not edible, he thought grimly) danced between colorful seaweed, the warm waters giving way to a refreshing coolness as he followed the scent.

The scent ended as he approached a dense forest of red coral, jutting out like tall trees from the seagrass. At the center of the grove, the corpse of a small glow whale lay between two rocks. His teeth sharpened, the needle structures in his mouth extending as he approached. Still, he held back from digging in.

It was a fresh kill. Strangely, however, there was only one cut on the creature’s body, a thin slice between its thick blubber. He scanned the area. It had been out here for as long as he’d been in the water at least and not one scavenger?

His stomach gurgled, overriding his thoughts. Flexing his claws, he cut off a piece from the broken skin, taking a small bite.

He almost groaned. So delicious. He took another bite, then another.

He ate as if on autopilot, human manners forgotten as the creature’s hunger took hold. He was almost halfway through his meal when he noticed it.

The hairs on his neck prickled. A shadow danced across the sands. He froze. The Mark on his shoulder burned, blisteringly so.

He looked above.

The mers he and his master fought were minuscule in comparison to this one. The creature’s tail is the first thing Izuku noticed, four meters in length and the same color as the coral surrounding them. How...how long had it been here? As it drew closer the teen took in its human features. The mer was male, he thought, judging its large upper body that was covered in scars. Most of them were old, but they all told Izuku everything he needed to know: this creature was dangerous.

He drew away from the meal, hands waving frantically as he apologized for taking its food. He hadn’t known it was his. His Mark sent pulses of pain down his arm, urging him to continue his retreat.

“Once again, my apologies,” he said, hoping his words were understandable underneath the water. “You are welcome to have the rest. I’ll just leave you to it.”

He doesn’t get very far. The creature blocked him with his tail, tilting his head as he asked in an oddly deep voice, “Where are you going?”

The sound echoed through the waters, sending a shiver down the teen’s spine. He never should have swam out this far, food or not.

Izuku lied, “My master is waiting for me.”

A dark, foreboding smile played across the creature’s lips. He caught a glimpse of several sharp teeth as he spoke, “Your master?”

“Yes,” he affirmed, pulling away as fast as he could. The more distance he put between them the better. “I have to be going now.”

“Do you now?” The mer inched closer, never allowing the teen more than a meter of distance. “Why not stay? Come. Eat.”

“I can’t. I’m really sorry. I don’t want to worry him,” Izuku replied hurriedly. His Mark sent a burst of adrenaline through his blood. Hopefully, it would give him enough energy to get back to shore.

“He won’t be worried,” the mer said, drawing uncomfortably close as he continued to circle Izuku.

“No, he really will be,” he insisted.

“He can’t be,” the creature stated into his ear. “The drowned do not feel.”

Ice filled Izuku’s veins. Without a second thought he swished his tail into the sand, drawing it up to blind the now familiar monster.

He didn’t stick around, the roar of anger more than enough to drive the teen back through the way he came.

One for All bleed through his being, the lines of light providing him distance. Unfortunately, in his panic he had lost sight of his original path, now swimming blind as the light above was fading. How long had he been eating? His breathing grew labored.

That was All for One. It had to be. He remembered those eyes, back on the day his master was swallowed by the sea, staring him down from inside the waves. He had been a lot bigger then, an unseen force of nature that belaid a constantly changing shadow of otherworldly horror.

Of course an old god could take the form of one of its creatures. Izuku would have hit himself if he weren’t swimming for dear life.

His mind worked through realization after realization at breakneck speed. So long as he held the Mark of One for All, All for One would come for him. That was why he’d cursed Izuku in this form. It had been to get him back to his domain.

Black tendrils shot up from the sand. He avoided them by twisting into a narrow group of rocks. He eyed the surface. His energy would only last so long. He needed a direction back to land.

Inwardly, he grasped onto the power All Might bestowed upon him, mumbling a prayer to god. Like an arrow he shot up from the rocky formation, too fast for All for One’s tendrils.

He gasped as he broke through the surface. The sun had been overtaken by the earlier clouds. Faintly, he could smell an incoming storm. Turning about, he frantically searched for land.

Desperation gripped his soul. Nothing but dark gray seas surrounded him. No, he couldn’t have gone out that far. The distance he’d covered was short, unless…

Unless someone intentionally made it so.

His heart rate skyrocketed. The lagoon must have been submerged into the Kamino Sea when he was under the waves. The shoal had been the first clue. How long had All for One been planning this?

The water shifted beneath him. Izuku’s eyes widened as a dark shadow spread out beneath him, steadily growing and rising from the depths. In one last ditch effort he poured the rest of his energy into escaping. He doesn’t get very far.

A tendril grasps his arm, jerking him back. Another joins on his opposite arm. Izuku frantically shifted about to shake off the tentacles. Fear gripped his soul as a hand from the depths shot upwards to grab his right fin, tight and unyielding.

Izuku struggled to escape the old god’s grasp, yet the hold on his tail dragged him deeper and deeper into the depths. Another sharp tug brought him into the monster’s arms. Izuku clawed and bit at the offending limbs. To his dismay, the skin was too tough for him to break. A low vibration from All for One’s chest began to slow his movements, muscles no longer working for him but rather against him, falling limp to the soft hum. Was the old god laughing?

“This has been fun. I haven’t had a good chase in quite a while,” the elder god chuckled.

Izuku growled. Despite how terrified he was, he refused to yield. “Let me go.”

“Now, why would I do that?” The arms tightened around the teen.

“You can’t have One for All,” he ground out.

“Oh? But he’s right here, isn’t he?”

Large fingers grasp his shoulder. His body bucked as the burning from the Mark exploded. Flashes of color invaded his vision. One moment the monster had on a younger face, unblemished by scars and cruelty. The next moment the face returned, though it had been tempered with a layer of curiosity.

“Does it hurt?”

Izuku gasped as the aches continued through his body. “Yes.”

A cruel smile danced across the old god’s face. “How interesting. Even now my little brother continues to resist me.”

They sank deeper, much to Izuku’s horror. In the distance, he heard an unnatural roar, followed by more and more, until the sound nearly overwhelmed him. The teen tried to cover his ears but the elder god pulled them down, refusing to give him relief.

The depths took on an uncomfortable chill. He shivered.

“Where are you taking me?” He asked between breaths.

All for One buried his mouth in the teen’s hair. The needle-like fangs were unnervingly close to his scalp. “We’re going home, my little guppy. Where you always belonged.”

Izuku blinked, energy leaving his body as he thought over the monster’s words.

“My home is on land,” he mumbled.

“Yes, it was. Once,” he whispered as the rest of the light faded from view. “But not anymore.”

The low hum returned. Izuku’s body loosened and relaxed, even as his mind and Mark screamed at him to move. All for One seemed to sense this, pressing him closer to his body so as to block any attempt at escape.

Amidst the blackness, he made out a great shape, a mockery of the castle he and his master once visited. The miasma surrounding it made the teen’s stomach roll with disgust.

“Welcome home, Izuku.”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 126

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,525ish

Summary: Y/N sees her men after saying goodbye to Coulson and the team. Infinity War starts.

Tony’s apartment was dark and quiet, which was extremely unusual for any of Tony’s places of living. 

“Tony?” Y/N called, her body was exhausted. She was trying to hold herself together from also saying goodbye to part of her family. “Tony?”

“The Boss is currently away on a business trip, Agent Rogers,” FRIDAY responded. “I will inform him that you are here.”

“Thanks… Uh, FRIDAY?”

“Yes?”

“I’m… I…”

“If I could step in, it seems like your body is exhausted, running on its last amounts of fuel. May I suggest that you rest? I will order food and work with Mr. Stark to get him here as fast as possible.”

“Okay… I’ll be in Tony’s room.”

~~~

“Y/N?” Tony called. 

When FRIDAY had told him that Y/N was back, Tony quickly ended the meeting he was in and flew home. He had been kept up to date on the SHIELD issues, since they were being broadcast everywhere. The man hunt was on Y/N like nothing it had before. He was concerned and so very worried, Tony was barely making it through the meeting.

“Y/N? Are you there?” He tried again, exiting his suit and searching his apartment.

“Boss,” FRIDAY responded. “She is resting in your room. She came back with extreme exhaustion. I’ve sent her to be and ordered food.”

“Thanks, FRI,” Tony sighed, relieved. 

He quickly, but quietly, made his way up to his room. Opening the door, the light from the hallway illuminated a very asleep Y/N, buried in the covers. He walked over, tucking her into the covers more before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Tony?” She rasped, eyes half opening.

“Go back to sleep,” he urged, brushing his fingers over her cheek. “I’ll let you know when the food’s here.”

She nodded, quickly falling back to sleep. Tony watched her lovingly before changing into something comfier. He was in the living room, waiting for the food, when the elevator dinged. Quickly on guard, Tony stood up defensively. He relaxed slightly when he noticed Peter waltzing in, bags of food.

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” Peter greeted excitedly.

“Hey, kid,” Tony responded. “What ya got there?”

“Oh, FRIDAY told me that you needed me to run and get some food. Even told me where to go and what to go.”

“FRIDAY, huh?” He looked up at the ceiling with a little shake of his head. “We’re going to have a conversation later.”

“Am I intruding on something?”

“No, kid,” Tony sighed. “It’s about time I let you in on a little secret.”

“A secret? What secret?”

“How about you go and get everything set up for three in the kitchen and I’ll be right back?”

“For three? Okay, Mr. Stark!” 

The kid rushed away to the kitchen. Tony headed back to the bed room. He had the urge to leave Y/N sleeping, as she very well needed it, obviously. But she needed to eat as well. He walked over and gently sat next to her.

“Y/N,” he called softly. “Time to wake up.”

“Hmm?” She hummed, stirring from her slumber. 

“Food’s here. And, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Meet?” Y/N was more awake now. “Tony, you know I can’t—“

“They won’t say anything to anyone. I promise.” He grabbed one of her hands and brought it up to his lips for a kiss. “Please?”

“Okay, Tony,” she nodded. Her stomach growled as she threw the covers off of her.

Tony chuckled. “You hungry?”

“A little.” She put her hands out. “A little help.”

Tony smiled and nodded before grabbing her hands. He carefully guided Y/N so that she was standing. Keeping hold of one of Y/N’s hands, Tony began to lead them out of the bedroom. Suddenly, Y/N tripped over her own tired feet.

“Woah, there, honey,” Tony said, steadying her. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Uh… honestly, I don’t remember,” Y/N responded. “It was… I thought happened.”

“And you better plan on telling me all about it after dinner.”

“Yes, Tones.”

Tony wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist to keep her more steady as they made their way to the kitchen. When they arrived, Y/N saw a teenager, one from the pictures on the wall. He was setting up dinner.

“Mr. Parker,” Tony called, the boy’s head snapped to look at his mentor. The boy was clearly surprised to see who was standing beside Tony. “I’d like you to meet Y/N. Y/N, this is Peter Parker. Or, Spider-Man.”

“Hello, Mr. Parker,” Y/N greeted holding her hand out for the young hero to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Peter nervously shook Y/N’s hand. “You’re…” He swallowed. “Y-you’re Lady America. I… I fought your brother in Germany.”

“You did, huh?” Y/N gave Tony a look. Tony looked away, not willing to meet her eye. 

“Yeah! I even stole his shield from him.”

“Well, that sounds like an interesting story. I’d love to hear it sometime.”

“Okay!” / “Let’s not.”

“Miss Rogers, I promise I won’t tell anyone about seeing you,” Peter continued as they sat at the table. 

“Thank you, Peter,” Y/N replied. “It means a lot.”

“How was school today, kid?” Tony asked, taking Y/N’s plate and dishing food onto it. “And patrol? Save any cats?”

“School was school. I spent most of science reworking my webbing. And I didn’t save any cats today, Mr. Stark. Just some old ladies crossing the street.”

Y/N honestly enjoyed the dinner with Tony and Peter. It was a sense of normalcy that had disappeared from her life what seemed like ages ago. After dinner was done, Peter needed to go home to get Aunt May. He awkwardly said goodbye before disappearing into the elevator. Y/N leaned back into Tony once Peter was gone. Tony pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

“Coulson’s dying,” Y/N whispered.

“What?” Tony quickly moved so that he was facing Y/N. “How?”

“I don’t know. But, I said goodbye to him and the team. Only final time.”

Tony pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry you had to do that,” he said softly. “I know how much they meant to you.”

“He was there when I woke up… he was my first friend.”

“Do the others know? Does Daisy know?”

“No. And I wasn’t meant to find out.”

Tony looked down at Y/N. “What do you need me to do?”

“Hold me.”

So that’s what he did, all night long.

~~~

To say Bucky was anxious would be an understatement. Y/N had been gone for about a week, without a word from her. Shuri had tried to cheer him up, but it was only met with grumpiness. He was beginning to worry that something had happened to her. After that worry crept it, Bucky noticed that T’Challa and the others were keeping something from him.

“What do you know?” Bucky asked, marching into the throne room where T’Challa and his counselors were.

“Leave us,” T’Challa requested, and the others quickly left. “This is about Y/N.”

“What do you know?”

“I will show you.”

T’Challa showed Bucky the news footage of Talbot’s press conference and him getting shot in the head by Daisy, only for Y/N to appear moments later.

“The government will stop at nothing to throw her in Raft,” T’Challa stated. “I have—“

“They won’t waste their time with Raft,” Y/N’s voice came from behind. The men spun around to see her standing there. “They’ve already made it clear that they will kill me on sight.”

After spending time with Tony, Y/N knew she needed to go back to Wakanda to see Bucky. She willingly let Tony make her breakfast before fighting him to let her leave. Luckily, she won.

“But I’m fine,” Y/N continued. “Healed it myself.” Bucky began marching towards her, clearly angry. “What? I’m okay, I pro—“

She was quickly cut off by his lips smashing onto hers. With his only arm, he pulled her into him, keeping her tightly against his chest. Y/N could feel all the worry and frustration that was being poured into the kiss.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Bucky growled against her lips. 

“I’m sorry,” she replied softly. “I really had no choice.”

T’Challa cleared his throat, reminding the two that they were not alone. “I’m glad that you are alright, Y/N,” T’Challa said with a slight smile. “I’m afraid Barnes here was about to burn the whole country down to search for you.”

“The whole country, huh?” She looked at Bucky, teasingly. “Wow.”

“The whole country, no,” Bucky defended. “The whole world, that’s probably about right.”

“Cause that would solve the problem.”

“Anything to get me to you, doll.” He gave you a softer kiss. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. And I’m safe.”

~~~

The next year went by in this weird, fast-slow sort of way. Both Tony and Bucky were as understanding as they could be with the situation Y/N was putting them in. But as time went on, the more frustrated and jealous both men became. Valentine’s Day was honestly the least problematic of any of the holidays. And that was saying something.

Alone, Y/N worked to gain more control and confidence with her abilities. She needed to be ready for whatever was coming. At the start of 2018, the Stones slowly began haunting her dreams, concerning both men greatly. Sleeping was becoming a luxury. The Stones showed to her their powers and the vision Wanda showed her three years previous. They kept telling her to prepare, but not exactly what to prepare for. 

The mounting stress of choosing between the men she loved and the oncoming battle that laid ahead, was enough to make anyone go crazy. But Y/N tried her best to keep an even killed head on her shoulders. Both her men could see that this was all weighing on her, but they did their best (somedays) to take a weight off of her.

Y/N also began to grow more angry at Steve. Though she missed him greatly. She was so mad at him. Mad at him for not reaching out or appearing to not care. She was mad at him for not telling her about Howard’s death and for not being willing to see outside his stubborn ass. For that being there when she lost AJ. But Y/N also missed him terribly. Steve was her twin after all. She would always love him.

It was now currently April and Y/N was up late after having visions of the Reality and Power Stones. And a purple giant. She was alone in her Wakandan bedroom, staring at her hands nervously. She had woken up deciding that she couldn’t wait any longer to choose. A choice needed to be made before what ever was haunting her came. In all honesty, Y/N had known for months, who’d she choose. She was just lying to herself.

With a deep breath, Y/N looked over at her side table. There were two clocks on the table, one with New York’s time and one with Bucky’s. It was almost time for her morning run with Tony. 

“I guess it’s time to make the choice official,” she whispered to herself. “Someone help me.”

~~~

Tony was already waiting at the Compound for Y/N. He had bought the property on the other side of the lake months back so that their dates could be outside more. He put in a dirt path so that they could run in the mornings too. Tony was leaning against a tree, waiting for Y/N, with his fingers running over his knew (detachable) arc reactor. Ever since Y/N began to struggle to sleep at night, he knew he needed to do something to protect them. To protect her. The new arc reactor didn’t get placed without a fight. But Y/N eventually gave in.

“You ready to lose again, tin man?” Y/N teased, appearing through a portal beside him.

“I never mind losing,” Tony smirked. “The view’s great.”

“Perv!” 

Y/N playfully swatted him. Tony grabbed her hands and pulled her into him for a kiss. Something was off about it.

“You okay?” He asked, pulling away.

“Yeah,” she responded, unconvincing. “Just ready for a run.”

She pecked his lips once more before sprinting off. He quickly followed. They ran in silence for a while before Tony started talking, but it wasn’t all making sense to Y/N.

“Slow down, slow down,” Tony requested. “I’m totally not kidding.”

“You’re totally rambling,” Y/N laughed, slowing down to a walking speed.

“No, I’m not.”

“Lost me.”

“Look, you know how you're having a dream, and in the dream you gotta pee?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded.

“Okay, and then you're like, 'Oh my god, there's no bathroom, what am I gonna do?', 'Oh! Someone's watching,' ''m gonna go in my pants.’”

“Right. And then you wake up, and in real life you actually have to pee.”

“Yes.”

“Yeah. Everybody has that.”

“Right! That's the point I'm trying to make. Apropos of that, last night, I dreamt, we had a kid.” Y/N stopped turning to face Tony. “So real. We named him after an eccentric uncle. Uh, what was his name?”

“Right… Tony, I think—“

“Morgan! Morgan.” He snapped his fingers.

“So you woke up, and thought that we were…”

“Expecting.”

“Really?”

“Yes?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “We haven’t even had sex in a year. How could that me possible?”

“I had a dream about it. It was so real.”

“I’m sure it was, Tony. But I haven’t even—“

“I know, I know. You haven’t chosen yet. But just think about it, will ya? My dream can’t be far off.”

Y/N sighed and untied the jacket sleeves around Tony’s neck. “Also, if you wanted to have a kid, you wouldn’t have done that.” She tapped the new reactor.

“I'm glad you brought this up, 'cause it's nothing. It's just a housing unit for nano particles.”

“It's not helping your case, OK?”

“No, no, it's an attachment, it's not a—“

“You don’t need that.”

“I know. I had the surgery. I'm just trying to protect us. The future uses, and that's it. Just in case there's a monster in the closet, instead of, you know…”

“Shirts?"

“You know me so well. You finish all my sentences.”

“You should have shirts in your closet.”

“I should have more of your shirts in my closet.”

“Tony—“

“I know, getting ahead of myself again. You know what there should be no more surprises. Let’s have a nice dinner tonight and we should have no more surprises. I should promise you.”

“Actually, Tony, I really need to talk to you about something. I made—“

“Tony Stark,” a man with a red cloak appeared a few feet away. There was an orange portal behind him. “Y/N Rogers, I’m Doctor Stephen Strange. And I need you both to come with me.”

next chapter >

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[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 5: Fairytales

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Fairytales  Rated: T Inspiration: The Worn Out Dancing Shoes

Marinette had every reason to sleep peacefully that night.  She was safe at home and there weren't any Akumas or Amoks wreaking havoc, at least not at that moment.  She was ready to drift into a peaceful slumber.  She looked up and the last thing she saw was a pair of ballet shoes.  Marinette groggily sat up, convinced that she was seeing things.  She hadn't taken ballet since she was a kid, largely because of how uncoordinated she was.  She walked over to the shoes, running her fingers over the peach coloured satin.  She should have turned around and gone back to sleep.  The reason why she didn't, was because inside her closet, she saw a staircase.  She leapt back in surprise, this was just too weird.  She frantically looked around, searching for Tikki, this had to be her magic.  But Tikki was nowhere to be found.  Marinette looked back at the staircase,  her curiousity getting the better of her.  If it lead to something or somewhere dangerous, she could always run away and lock the door behind her.  She grabbed the slippers and put them on.  She was about to lace them up, only for the shoes to do so by magic.  With that, she made her way down the steps.

 She made her way down the long winding stairwell, illuminated by glowing red flowers growing out of the brick walls.  If she had to run from a monster, she was dreading having to run back up all of these steps.  At the bottom of the steps, she came to a large set of double doors.  There was nowhere else to go but through these doors, or turn back the way she came.  She was in no position to defend herself, wearing little more than pink pyjamas and ballet shoes.  Still, she had come this far, she thought as she pried the large door open.  The bright lights from the other side of the room beamed through the now open door, and as Marinette stepped in to the light, everything changed. Her pink pyjamas changed into a red and black ballet dress with a matching red and black mask. Her shoulder length hair had been done up in a top knot and adorned with red ribbons.  She looked down and saw that she was wearing black tights and the ballet shoes had turned red.  She stepped into a brightly lit ballroom with various masked guests all drinking, chatting and dancing with one another.  As Marinette stepped inside, the heavy door closed behind her. She turned around, trying to see if she could get it open again, but it began to vanish into the wall.  Wherever she was now, there was no escaping it like she thought.  She looked around the ballroom, no one else seemed to notice her when she arrived. They were all wrapped up in their own conversations, and dancing with their own partners as if the rest of the world was melting away.  In the corner of the ballroom, Jason was watching a ballerina in a bright red dress weave her way through the dance floor.  The girl in the bright red dress caught Jason’s eye as she made her way through the sea of rusty brown and gold coats and gowns.  It was almost like she was from another world entirely. He told himself that was the reason because these events were usually boring anyhow.  Very few people held his interest and he was intimidating enough that people usually kept their distance.  His eyes kept finding their way back to the tiny red ballerina, who was now slowly making her way towards him.  There were two possibilities, she was either very brave or very foolish.  

 Marinette made it to the edge of the ballroom, where she noticed a tall boy standing to the side of the crowd.  She was about to look away and figure out why she was led here, but her eyes kept wandering back to the mysterious boy.    Marinette got a better look at him as she walked towards him.  This boy was wearing a dark brown coat with a red shirt and black trousers underneath, he had dark hair and a pale white fringe framing his face.  Beneath the simple black domino mask, were a pair of deep blue eyes that were watching her as she came closer and closer.  By the time she made her way over to him, she tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come.  She looked down at her shoes, her hands clutching the tulle of her tutu.  

 Jason looked over at the ballerina standing before him, a blush crept up her face as she looked away.  She looked intimated, but not afraid of him.  The ballerina looked like she was about to say something to him before stopping herself.  It wasn't as though he had anything to say at that moment either.  Which was a shame, the least he could do was ask her her name.  Especially since she had the courage to walk towards him, he usually kept most people from getting too close.  The best he could do in that moment was hold out his hand and give her a slight smile.  The girl  tentatively took it, her small hand felt weightless in his gloved one.  

 Marinette tried not to stumble as the boy gently led her towards the dance floor.  Normally she would have tripped over her own feet by now, probably barrelling into someone in the process.  She didn't, amazingly, and even if she did, Marinette had a feeling the boy would have no problem catching her before she fell. He took a simple delight in spinning her around to face him, watching the colours of her dress spin and shimmer beneath the ballroom lights.  Marinette felt safe, secure, protected as the boy held her close.  Firmly enough to hold her steady, but not tightly enough to trap her.  The longer they danced, the more the rest of the world seemed to fade away.  Neither of them seemed to notice that the world around them seemingly stopped from the moment their hands touched.  They certainly paid no attention to the fact that everything and everyone started to slowly turn into red petals blowing in the wind.

 Jason held her close, she looked so small and fragile in his arms he was worried he might break her.  As they continued to dance they grew closer and closer, he felt as if he was being plunged into her sapphire blue eyes.  His fringe brushed against her forehead, neither of them pulled away just as he was about to kiss her. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he saw red petals floating up towards the ceiling, at least where there was a ceiling.  The world around them had in fact faded away, they were the last remaining people in the room.  The ceiling had given way to a bright white void, and the walls were slowly starting to disappear.  The ballerina pulled away when she noticed it too.  She looked down at her own hands before tearfully looking up at Jason, he was starting to fade away too. She ran towards the steps she came down, but she turned and smiled at him, as if to thank him and tell him goodbye.  That was the last he saw of the red ballerina before she vanished into the white void, fading away before she reached the top of the steps.

 Marinette bolted upright when she woke up.  Her heart was pounding in her chest as she looked around the room.  She was back inside her room, back in her pyjamas and her hair was down.  She looked over at her wardrobe door only to find it was open, but her clothes were on the other side.  No secret doors to magical ballrooms and mysterious fairytale worlds. A pair of flats were at the bottom of the wardrobe, they looked worn and tattered, as if she had gone dancing a few too many times in them.  She thought back to the boy in her dreams, she couldn't quite put her finger on who he was or what Marinette was doing dreaming about kissing him.  She gave herself a mental slap, it was just a dream, that's all.  A very nice dream that she would probably never have again.  

 Jason's eyes shot open, he stared up at the cream coloured ceiling of the ramshackle apartment he was staying in.  The rest of his senses began to adjust to his surroundings, on the bedside table was a dog eared copy of “A Collection of Gothic Fiction”.  The dream started to make some sense, but now the dream had ended and he was brought crashing back down to reality.  In reality, he wasn’t in a grand ballroom dancing the night away with a wide-eyed ingenue, he wasn’t some Byronic hero to be romanticised and sympathised with.  In reality he was being forged into a weapon, a monster, his story would probably end with him taking vengeance on the man who betrayed him. There was a knock on the front door, it was probably Thalia getting ready to introduce him to another mentor.  Whatever tried to kill him next, it most certainly wasn’t going to be beauty. 

[zoellajulien]

come upon morning

(Peter Parker x Reader)

angst - words: 2.1k

OPEN ENDING BELOW

"Alright! Enough from you!" Your friend laughed loudly as he smacked your other friend in the back of the head, turning to face you. "It's your turn. Give us all the details!"

You shifted awkwardly, laughing and rubbing your arms for comfort. The conversation happening between your group was on the subject of 'the ones who got away', which you all had experience in. "Fine, fine. Just be quiet and sit down!"

A hush fell over the room as you opened a book and pulled some photos out of the page. Curiosity spread as the photos were passed around for everyone to look at.

"Why do you keep these on that page?" One friend asked, looking over your shoulder at the highlighted text.

"I keep them close to a quote on it. It says 'you'll always be mine, in the back of my mind. I'll look for you in my next life.' I found this quote when I was in a dark place, and it reminded me of him. Because that's how I'll always feel." You explained to them, passing another picture around.

In the photo, the boy had a straw taped badly to his head with a ridiculous smile spread across his face. His nose was wrinkled too, adding to the joyous atmosphere the picture captured. His brown curls were splattered across his head and face in a mess, along with a hastily put-in butterfly clip. You felt warmth blooming inside you while looking at it. Your friends laughed at the picture, pointing out various (but positive) things about him to one another.

"What are you doing? You look ridiculous!"

"I'm a unicorn! You should be a unicorn too!"

"Wait until Tony sees this. No- I am not sticking a straw to my forehead like a crackhead!"

"Psh, you don't know what you're missing, then!"

"That boy was my whole world. We were best friends before we lovers, but we always did everything together. One time, we both failed an exam on accident, and celebrated! We drove around for hours just because." You reminisced.

"Dude, one kid sitting next to me was all 'I got this in the bag! Studied all night long!'" Peter chuckled, pushing his curls from his face with the hand that held yours. He pushed his lips against your knuckles softly.

"Are you serious? Dude, if you can't even pass the exam, then everyone else definitely failed. Their ego was 100% bruised afterward, I'm sure of it." You snickered, blushing as your eyes cast over his form. His skin glowed from the kiss of sunset colors. "Hey! Careful! You almost hit that bird! Ugh, your driving is the worst!"

Peter's laugh brought a smile to your lips as you teased him, knowing full-well you drove much worse than he did. Poking his side with your finger to tease him more, he squirmed away and began to make faces.

"Oi! I'm trying to keep us alive! Stop that!" He snickered.*

"I hope you know that we are absolutely not listening to this song! My turn to control the cord!" You cheered, snatching his phone away.

"What? No! I'm the driver, I control the music!"

"In your dreams, Parker! And don't take your eyes off the freaking road, you health-hazard of a human being!"

"Oh, please! I drive better than you do! And either way, you know you love me!"

"That, yes, that is very true. I can not deny that." You giggled with a happy sigh.

"What else did you guys do?"

"So much! We went on great adventures and vacations together but also enjoyed simple moments. One day, I was frustrated with everything so I started crying on the kitchen floor when the empty pot slipped from my hand." You laughed at yourself, shaking your head. "He came in with a sympathetic heart and dumped a bunch of pots on the floor. At first, I got even angrier. Because, hello, that was a huge mess! But then he started constructing them together on a mat and grabbed two dowels for the both of us."

Peter cursed when he saw your form, panicking slightly as he tried to come up with a solution to fix the sad mood you owned. The poor brunette had come in, more than ready to defend you from an attacker, after being alerted to the crashing sound of a pan hitting the tiled flooring. Trying to think quickly on his feet, he leaned past you to pick up said fallen pot along with a large group of others.

"What are you doing? I swear to god I will smash your face into the cabinet if you think I'm going to clean this up."

Peter wordlessly grabbed your hand and placed the dowel in your hand, kissing each finger as he twisted them into a fist. He reached up and brushed a piece of hair away from your face, smiling sweetly at your confused face.

"What do I need this for?" You questioned, still slightly irritated.

"What? What was he doing, exactly?"

"We actually started playing them together, on the floor. He cheered me up in less than an hour. I went from crying in frustration to crying from laughter." A blush crept its way up your body as a love-sick smile made its appearance.

Crawling on the floor, Peter gently pulled you by your empty hand next to him. A whine of protest escaped your lungs, but you eventually gave in and looked at the pots in front of you. He reached around you, his arms controlling yours. He began beating the wooden sticks against the metal and copper pots.

"I love you! I love you! My darling!" He sang out dramatically, badly playing out an improvised tune, hiding his smile when he noticed you were forcing one to hide. "My darling! She's oh-so-beautiful!"

Laughter bubbled within your chest and escaped into the air around the two of you. A smirk made its made to your boyfriend's lips at the achievement of making you happy. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before continuing his actions.

Eventually, he moved and sat beside you, using his wooden stick to bang on the pans. He laughed after you made a pun referring to the pots, shaking his head in amusement.

"Come one, sing a duet with me."

"Nooo."

Peter began singing loudly but slow enough for you to try and match his lyrics. You were pretty sure the two of you were bothering the neighbors at this point.

A bubble of snickers filled the room after someone mentioned just how in love you seemed to be even after he left.

"You see, this big teddy bear of a human being loved to travel, so one day he showed up outside my job and picked me up. We ended up driving for a long time until we had a picnic underneath the stars. I taught him a bunch of the constellations."

"Peter! C'mon, tell me where we're going! You're boring me!" You joke, shoulders shaking in laughter when you do.

"No! You can't know yet! It's called a surprise, babe!" He protests, taking one hand off the wheel and easing his foot off the accelerator. Using the empty hand he has, he pokes your side once safely stopped at a red light.

"Ugh. You're a pain. I hope you know that." You paused for a few minutes before saying: "Are we there yet?"

"We are literally still driving! Relax!"

The drive continued for another hour or so before you pulled up onto a hill that sat beside a glistening lake. By that time, it was well past midnight. You would have fallen asleep if Peter's energetic and proding, literally, personality. He sang loudly to you and was constantly poking you in the ribs, although gently.

"We've arrived! I hope you're hungry!"

After the picnic, you rested by his side, enjoying the comforting kisses he left across your face. "I love you, but I'd appreciate it if you would pay attention to my lesson!" You whined*

"Alright, Teach. What do you have for me to learn? Not math, I hope." He replied in turn with a broad smirk.

With a sharp eye-roll, you sat up, taking his finger, and pointing it at the sky. "Big dipper." You drug it over to a separate spot. "Little dipper."

"I like this lesson. Teach me more."

"He sounded amazing. What happened to you two?"

"The part of him yearning for adventure became too difficult to ignore, and he knew he needed to go. Of course, he offered for me to come with him, but my parents refused. They told me how my focus was to be on where I was going in the future, so their force kept us apart." You set down the Polaroid picture to pick up another one, this one of a car. The brunette sat on top of it, clearly singing and dancing. "The night he left was a hard one for us all. His aunt and mentor came over so we could all wish him goodbye. I was angry at my parents, but they were right. My future was very uncertain with him, especially since he didn't know where he would be going."

A stray tear made it's down your cheek, dropping onto the hoodie of his you wore. Your friend wrapped an arm over your shoulder.

"Eventually, after he packed his car for the journey and his weeping aunt gave him one last hug, I was called over. I opened the door to be closer to him and sat, looking at him. His cheeks were damp with tears, as were mine, but we smiled. He put his hand into mine and kissed me, so softly, as if I were glass."

"You look beautiful today, you know. Is that dress new?" Peter's fingers danced up your arm to cup your cheek.

"I bought it just for you, for today. I wanted you to see me looking my best, so you can remember me this way when you go."

"I still don't know if I want to go." He admitted, ducking his head before looking back into your eyes.

"You have to. You need to go because your heart is calling." You whispered, reluctant to admit the truth as much as he was. "And you don't have to be scared, because I will always be with you along this journey." You placed your hand on his heart.

"He pleaded for me to go that night, to go with him. I told him I couldn't, that it wasn't an option."

You set down the picture while standing, grabbing one from underneath a flipped-over picture frame. One of your friends picked up the frame and felt anguish at seeing the picture inside the glass.

The same boy the conversation was about sat somewhere, clearly in a place with bright lights. He wore a white, short-sleeve top that ended with the picture. His eyes were blood-shot, curls messy as can be, but a smile sat across his lips, despite being clearly in pain.

"This noise is going to be the death of me, I swear."

"Kid, you've got a lot more fighting to kill you right now than the lights. At least try to act concerned for yourself." Tony's voice strained, dry from tears. "They are probably the smallest problem you have as of now."

"Don't say stuff like that. Please." Your voice croaked, all the tears you had now gone from crying them away. "It can't be like that. No."

"That picture was taken a few months before he left. This one is a copy of the photo he took with him." You explained, showing it around. "I loved him so much, you know, and he loved me too. I could tell since he had some much trouble leaving us. But I knew he had to go."

In the last photo sat you both, side-by-side, asleep. One of his arms draped over your side while he spooned you from behind with his face buried into the skin of your neck. You had hair flopped over one eye and one hand tucked into his dangling by your front. The two of you had corresponding colors on your nails, a bright red. It had been his idea after a tired sleep-over reached well past two in the morning. It was a fond memory of yours.

Your friend pulled you tight to his chest, noticing the balance you were struggling to keep between sobbing or staying straight-faced. Eventually, the tears came out, but a smile stayed on your lips as you remembered Peter.

You remembered his laughter that was always accompanied by his contagious smile or smirk. Also on the list, you remembered his ability to sweet-talk you into sneaking out to see him on nights he wasn't 100% busy. However, you also remembered how he left you, leaving a longing feeling that turned into unheard wishes.

You just wish his departure had actually happened like that.

taglist: @rorybutnotgilmore @petersasteria @elios-timotea

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye VII — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation 

JEON JUNGKOOK TIES THE KNOT!

‘It’s a sad day indeed as the most eligible bachelor in the city is now officially married! The ceremony took place in a garden like-setting on the grounds of the old Jeon manor where we could see the cherry blossoms falling on Kim Belle’s veil.

The couple absolutely glowed in the afternoon light and Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off his new bride. While this relationship came as a surprise to everyone, many sources speculate that the two had been liaising for years in secret. Leave it the Jeon family to be as extravagant yet discreet as possible.

As per the family’s tradition, they will be staying in the manor for two nights before going back to their shared home.

Belle’s dress had been a little underwhelming to some of us until we got word that her waistline is encrusted with approximately 96 5 carat diamonds, the whole dress designed and created by Madame Saito, her mentor and one of the leading designers of our country. So appearances are quite deceiving as we’re looking at an easily $20, 000 wedding dress adorned by the new heiress.

The whole ceremony moved as smoothly as the falling flowers. Definitely a step up from the previous few articles written for Kim Belle in poor taste. The new Mrs. Jeon takes the award for being the most elegantly majestic bride of the year.’

-

“Sorry, sir?” Yoongi asked to make sure he heard Jungkook ask him to come over to his office for a private meeting. There were two ways this could go. Either a bullet in his head or a bullet he has to put in someone else’s head. Namjoon told him a lot of stories of how newer members of any mafia made you kill someone at least once to test true loyalty. Because really one could die to save themselves from any more misery but living their entire life responsible for a murder was a whole other story.

Jungkooks’ expression did not falter in the slightest, still in his proper wedding attire with a light tint on his lips from Belle’s lipstick. “It’s only going to be a few minutes.” He walked past him having every expectation of being followed.

Yoongi did not hesitate to continue walking along the large regal hallway before turning right into a dark rustic office. A much older man already situated himself on the couch while two guards stood on each side of a figure resting on his knees in front of the table.

The usual bright and luxurious light in the rest of the mansion unfortunately did not reach this room. Scent of tobacco mixed in with expensive cologne and sweat swirling in a dark room adorned with deep brown furniture. This was a place of purely business. Despite the pretty lavenders on Jungkooks’ breast pockets matching the flowers in Belle’s hair.

“Park Jeongsu…he was found in midst of exchanging letters to the mayor.” The older male spoke in a gruff tone possibly from the smoke infecting his throat.

“Thank you, uncle.” Jungkook stared down at the wooden box lined in purple velvet. “Do you see that? That’s what you called loyalty.” Fingers traced the outline of some diagram on the top that Yoongi could quite catch but it shone in gold. “Chul has been mingling with the likes of our own gang…” He scoffed with a smile. “Clever.”

Yoongis’ heart seemed quickly tumble down into a tight cage situated somewhere deep in an endless abyss. There was more sources for the mayor. Just how many rats did they have in this place? The man understandably was given minimal information so it was easy for him to stay unknowing and a little confused.

“I despise disloyal people, Jeongsu. I really do.” He attempted to give the trembling male an apologetic look but anyone could sense there was no sincerity. “Especially on one of most joyous occasions of my life, I expected all my soldiers to stay by my side. To protect me as I have tried to protect you and your families. I’ve always tried to be a gracious leader.” Jungkook shrugged. “If it were my father, your own balls would be stuffed down your throat until you choke to death.”

The mere description and Yoongi saw the male on his knees breathing heavily, the cloth around his mouth inflating at every breath.

“Of course today I can’t get my hands dirty.” He moved both hands away from the box. “I need to be gracious and generous today in honor of my new beloved wife.” Jungkook leaned on the edge of the table by his hands. “Thankfully my uncle was nice enough to question you while I was gone…” He gestured towards his blood soaked shirt and swollen eye. “So if you’ve come this far to me, that means you’re of no use.”

The words barely settled into the room but muffled protesting began from the vulnerable target. Even if the cloth wasn’t hindering his clarity, Jungkook and his uncle probably would not have had any remorse to step away. This wasn’t a family or business of mercy.

Flickering open the wooden box, Jungkook in his most casual aura picked up the shining silver object. Each bullet placed inside with heartwarming care before the older mans’ voice slithered through the intimate moment.

“Jungkook…” His uncle warned with a stern tone, smoke riddling the air around him. “It’s bad luck to execute someone on your wedding day.”

“I know.” He muttered without sparing him a sideways glance. Once everything had been prepared, Jungkook walked around the table and stood in front of the traitor. The gun handed out in Yoongis’ direction.

All eyes were on the male now and he never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life. He had been stuck in a trunk before so that was saying something. Eyes flickered from the older man to Jungkook to the male who clearly had been on his side. Of course refusing to do so would end with both their lives taken and then this whole operation would combust back into nothingness.

You’ve shot guns before. Not at innocent people.

No one was truly innocent. At least that was sentiment he plastered in his mind hiding away all the warnings and alarms from his conscience. Padding closer to where Jungkook stood, his heart raced faster at every step swallowing down any protest struggling to push through.

The thrashing faded away into a meek sob as Yoongi faced the man. Much to his discontent, the lack of lines on his face and the broken brightness in his eyes showed that he was but a boy. Possibly a tad younger than Jungkook himself or his age. Either way his mind now haunted itself with the prospect of killing a near child for the sake of his operation. Was it worth to take a life for this?

He was not the only one risking things however. This boy was one of many who were already victims of Jungkooks’ rule, at least Yoongi knew the one kneeling before him had fought for a cause.

Clicking back the safety, Yoongi tightened his jaw ignoring the tears streaming down their cheek and the giant eyes staring back at him.

For a few seconds the younger male calmed himself to an almost peaceful breathing state. It was brief and hard to truly notice but Yoongi saw the little nod he gave him. Reassuring the older male that this needed to be done. One life to protect the many.

In a rush of adrenaline Yoongi pulled the trigger. It wasn’t as loud as the guns he received in the precinct. Perfect for quick and quiet executions especially during these occasions. For a moment he could pretend that nothing even happened. Though blood leaking from the hole made on the others’ forehead spoke a truer story.

To the side he dropped, light thud echoing in the room before nothing but silence plunged comfortably.

“The den in Gongneung needs to be put under heavy security. I remember him one of the boys who was patrolling there.” Jungkook nodded towards the unmoving figure before fixated his gaze on the two guards who immediately bowed in response. “And I want a private meeting with the person who brought him in as a tribute.” He finally turned to Yoongi, expression softening a little at how frozen the man was. Carefully he patted him on the back. “You did well, Yoongi. I know being a medical apprentice, this isn’t exactly your line of work but I need to see whether it’s safe to have you around.” A small smile played on his lips. “I suppose I can always trust Belle’s judgement.”

Yoongi forced him to meet the younger male’s gaze, an awkward smile flickered but quickly faded away as he dumbly watched Jungkook take the gun away from him and put it on the table gently.

The boy lay limp on the dark wood slowly being painted with blood, deepening its hue into a deep wine glistening in the lowlight. Definitely not a sight supposed to be seen on an auspicious day.

Jungkook watched the blood ooze across the room and merely stood over it to move closer to the door. “Clean this up. No more tasks until I get to the mansion.” He ordered simply. “Yoongi…”

His attention flicked back to reality in a rush of cold air before following Jungkook along like a confused puppy.

As the bright light almost burned his eyes, Yoongi pretended that he just woke up from a really bad dream and nothing ever happened. He learned how to do that very quickly in his career especially after he shot his first person in the field. Not the healthiest way to cope but his pay did not actually cover for therapy.

Jungkook dug his hands into his pockets looking out the window. A bright, perfect day to be married after so long of hearing one proposal after the other. It was finally done. Eyes flickered towards the raven haired male who finally caught up to stand next to him. “Unfortunately I have to ask you another favor as well, Yoongi.”

“Does it involve me killing anyone? Can I have a five minute break first?”

The younger male chuckled before shaking his head. “No…it’s—it’s a little more delicate than that.”

Yoongis’ brows furrowed, all of his attention now dissipated into what he was going to say. Though he hated to admit he had a small idea of who it involved.

Jungkook stammered before glancing around the hallway and sighing. “It’s about the wedding night…”

-

The first thing she took off was her heavy earrings as they were led into one of the private rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Apparently Boyoung wanted to have a small word with the two of them before they went off to bed. Her limbs felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets with how exhausted she was. Who knew just wearing a heavy dress and walking around would take so much out of you.

Belle understand on a whole new level just how models felt having to create such a strong demeanor that even pain could not pass across their features. Hours spent on chatting people up and others admiring the now famous waistline on her dress. The girl loved the dress more because of the fact Saito made it just for her made her happy enough.

Jungkooks’ hand permanently set on the small of her back. The man had disappeared for a while during the party but from the way his face tensed when he walked back here, she knew it had to do with work.

The guide opened a door for them and they were led into a room similar to the one Belle dressed up in for the ceremony.

Giving a kind smile to the guide, she walked and placed her earrings on the small table next to the bathroom. For the moment the couple had finally stood on their lonesome with no one to disturb them.

The young lord took the opportunity to pounce at his new bride and take her lips into his.

Her veil toppled off her head from the force and Belle couldn’t help but giggle a little into the kiss. “Not now.” She whispered.

“A few minutes.” Jungkook breathed out pulling her veil off gently before pressing a few more pecks on her soft lips. Whatever strain tightened up his nerves significantly loosened being around his only source for relaxation.

Belle hummed in protest, pressing against his chest to have him pause. “Your aunt is going to be here in a few minutes. We need to be decent.”

Jungkook merely smirked and gave her another peck just at the moment the door opened.

Boyoung gave her nephew a cheeky smile as he backed shyly before closing the door behind them.

“What did you want to talk about?” Belle asked with a sweet smile gracing her lips.

The older woman let out a sigh but still kept a decent smile gracing her features. She looked over at Jungkook who hung his head for a moment. “Dear…” Her tone rung grim and serious. A rare sound coming from a lady who always looked extremely happy every day. Once again the usual habit of holding Belle’s hands when she spoke of something. “The Jeon family has been around for many generations. Possibly longer than the city itself.” Boyoung chuckled lightly. “So with that age and prestige, there comes…a few traditions that lived on for our family’s continual survival.”

Belle nodded, trying to search her expression with the hope that was just some simple task she had to undertake. Maybe eating more fruits or balancing stuff on her head. Except the other womans’ voice sounded far too serious for something like that. Eyes flickered over to Jungkook who had his arms folded over his chest and his expression softened.

“Family members must be married at 21…” Boyoung repeated the tradition the couple already fulfilled. “They also need to carry on the line of the Jeon family.” Her grip tightened on her hands. “Do you have any conditions that may prevent you from having a baby?”

She stammered lightly. “No—I don’t think so.”

Boyoung nodded before giving her a smile except it wasn’t as bright more consoling.

“Why are we talking about babies now?” Belle smiled nervously.

She glanced over at Jungkook for a moment who tightened his jaw, seemingly unable to look Belle straight in the eye. “You understand the world we live in, dear. At some point, you both will need to dedicate yourself to your own lives just like Jungkooks’ parents did. Which is why we make a point to marry and have children in their brisk days.”

Belle’s lips parted for a moment, sensing where this now dreaded conversation was headed. “When—when do you want us to have children?”

Boyoung took a deep breath as the younger female had the urge to yank her hands away. “There is a ceremony on the wedding night for every Jeon wedding. I’ve done it, Jungkooks’ mother has done it and many of our ancestors. You are to—lay with one another that will give you a child.” She spoke carefully. “Because of a few incidents in the past, there is a strict rule that this ceremony must have two witnesses. Preferably people that the couple trusts not to fib or lie about the consummation.”

Her whole body felt like it burst into flames but no one noticed or cared. A little voice inside her screamed out so loud, Belle was worried she might actually mimic the volume right there and then. She really thought this conversation would not happen until a few years after the wedding, maybe when her heart wore down to the subject. How much more of her naivety was going to be shredded to waste before she realized these people did not care who they hurt. Especially when it came to their ideals.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, dear but—we must prepare tonight.” She caressed her cheek.

Belle could almost feel a slight sting on her skin at the seemingly affectionate movement. Blood curdling screams still echoed through her insides but on the outside, she nodded as any captive trying to live would do. Just nod and hope it ends quick.

Boyoung immediately smiled using the minor response as a reassurance boost before grinning at Jungkook. “I will see you both bright and early tomorrow.” She announced walking out of the door.

The couple now standing in a pit of thick silence.

“You knew about this.” Belle whispered, eyes growing glossier by the second as they stood face to face with one another. “Is that the part you conveniently forgot? The part where I’m supposed to make children for you tonight too.” She winced while Jungkook was trying conjure up words that would be most appropriate to reassure her.

Unfortunately the way their family worked and the way society worked were so far off from each other that even he felt helpless against it. “Belle, we’ve been doing it without protection this whole time. What’s going to be so different now?”

“They want me to be impregnated!” She shouted making the male hurriedly glance over at the door worried someone might be listening in. “With witnesses…” She whispered under her trembling breath.

“Baby, calm down.” He raised his hands to cup her cheeks, give her some form of comfort that he could while still making Boyoung and the rest of his family happy.

Belle roughly pushed him away, her bracelet tinkling and tugging at the fabric of his shirt when she moved back. “No that’s why you chose me, isn’t it?” Voice shook down to her very core as she yanked away from Jungkook attempting to hold her hand. “You wouldn’t feel bad if I was in display as opposed to someone you actually cared about.”

The lord paused in his tracks for a moment feeling his heart clench at the dark thought swirling in his wifes’ head. “I don’t want to do this just as much as you, B.” His words faded more into a mutter trying to keep the conversation private because he knew with all his soul that there was one person pressing their ear against the door. Thankfully most of these doors in the mansion were decently sound-proof. “You think I want people to see us like that?” He grabbed her by the cheeks now forcing to keep her close, noses just brushing against each other. “This is my family. You should know more than anyone that we can do everything for family.”

“Don’t do that.” She shook her head, breathing out a small sob and attempting to pull away from him again but his hands were firm to keep her still. “Don’t do that, this is not the same. It’s a baby—”

“I know.” He whispered, her pulse pounding against his palm making his stomach drop. “I do care about you. I care about you a lot…”

“No you don’t—” Belle hated that she was not just feeling anger pump through her veins but fear. Genuine fear. The permanency of what they were about to do could terrify anyone but at least normal people had the chance to say no or turn back.

“I do.”

She took a deep breath gently pushed his hands away. “If you did care about me…we wouldn’t be married. And I wouldn’t be preparing to be bred like an animal.” Swallowing down the painful lump in her throat despite the tears already trailing down her cheeks. People cried at weddings after all but rarely for this reason.

Before Jungkook could say another word Belle rushed away into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard it almost made even him jump.

-

No. No no no no no no no no no this was wrong. Of all the fucking things Yoongi witnessed in his entire life, this made him nauseous even thinking about it.

Witnessing impregnation. That’s what they called it, the men quietly smoking at the open area near the bedroom it was going to happen. The excited bastards looked to be about the age when it was acceptable in their time to behave in this manner, chin sagging down to their toes.

So along with mass selling drugs, the Jeon family loved impregnating their women in front of other people. How unsurprisingly disappointing.

The worst part was that Yoongi had a feeling Belle wasn’t a long-time girlfriend of Jungkook. He wasn’t even sure if the two were a real couple. But a child is fucking real. This wasn’t a fantasy game anymore for status, this was solidifying a future that the woman probably didn’t even want.

Silence plunged into the room when from the corner of his eye a lavender adorned figure stepped in next to Jungkooks’ aunt.

His plump lips curled up into a smile at the older female, bowing down before a grim expression flashed across his face and Yoongi immediately knew why he was here.

Jimin looked around at the people in the room and his heart dropped seeing the chortling men at the corner. He prayed to the high heavens none of them were going to be in the booth observing this horrendous ceremony. Instead his eyes flickered to the man he hoped was Yoongi. “Witness?” He asked briefly. Much to his somewhat relaxation, Yoongi nodded.

“This your first time?” One of the older man asked the two males.

They both agreed shortly and the older man laughed.

“Oh it’s better than it sounds. In all my experiences, they both loved it. Sometimes it’s a sweet affair.” He smiled.

“And other times?” Yoongi asked daringly.

Unfortunately the men shifted uncomfortably, the slightly younger ones cleared their throats while the older ones looked more grim than normal.

“Virgins are the worst to endure.” The oldest one there spoke up, shaking and sitting on the chair. “Crying…blood…those are the ones you need to worry for the most.”

“We haven’t had a virgin in a long time though.” A more springy man spoke up. “A few of us suggested that the mating ceremony should not be mixed in with losing one’s virginity. Not much fun for the to-be mother or father.”

Yoongi swallowed down thickly, their casual tone about this whole mess making him even more nauseous.

The conversation was immediately paused when Boyoung padded back into the room. “It’s time now, boys. Into the booth.” She muttered almost under her breath gesturing towards to the gap on the left of the entrance.

Taking calculated steps one after the other, Yoongi simply followed the lavender adorned male through the small opening into a tiny booth. Their shoulders brushing against each other as they observed the beautiful designed window, vectors formulating the letter ‘J’ mixed with butterflies and flowers.

However through the window was something far less pleasant.

-

Silence diseased the large room. Belle was left to hear her own hurdling thoughts just to stay sane. From the corner of her eye she noticed the shifting through the open window with a designed barrier to create some kind of class to this horrid tradition.

His hand pushed her chin so her gaze could be fixated on him. “It’s just you and me, okay?” Jungkook whispered. “Just us.”

Like a brainwashing scheme where Belle was stuck in a river between a bank of fantasy and a bank of reality. They were not alone. She could feel the familiar eyes burning right into core. But what was so new about pretending? She pretended this to a point where her entire life was now dedicated to the man before giving no chance of another life.

If Jungkook couldn’t get out this then how could she ever think the same? It wasn’t like she could run away either, there was no one around to help her. No one to stop this.

Hand gently cupped her cheek before leaning in for an initiating kiss, light warmth spreading through her. His lips became so familiar for comfort nowadays that Belle lost a little of her conscious sense for her own peace of mind.

However this was not meant to be an act of love or even attraction. She was reminded of this when Jungkook pushed the fabric of her dress up without warning. “I’m sorry.” He whispered in her ear. No this was a responsibility. A chore to get done on a to-do list curated for the young lord.

Made to lie on her back, Belle’s vision grew blurry feeling her legs being spread apart with the utmost care but hardly any of the warmth she usually remembered. Then there came the burn through her entrance as he pushed in. A trembling breath passed through her lips struggling to keep composure in such a vulnerable position.

Walls ached the deeper he moved in, his one hand gripping at the sheets until his hips stilled once she was completely full with his already throbbing cock.

Her gaze flickered up to the cherry blossom paintings on the ceiling, pretending a cool spring breeze touching her face and the sound of water flowing. This isn’t real. For a second Belle forced herself to drown into a pool of fantasy. This wasn’t real. The pain faded minutes ago and so did her sense of consciousness.

She wasn’t here, arms pinned down by strong hands and hot breath cascading down her neck. No it was back at the boutique. Belle spending hours sewing her favourite daffodil yellow dress with a tall cup of iced coffee and her hair in a comfortable bun.

Her head was pulled back into reality when Jungkook pressed a kiss on her lips and it all poured back into her. Legs aching from the spread, her heat a little numb from the friction while no sound passed her lips except for light heaving.

Yoongi struggled to control his heavy breathing as the scene took place before him. The man felt like a prisoner witnessing his inmate being beaten. He just had to watch cruel reality play out it’s painful dance. Having the stomach for it was not his biggest issue. Except he knew Belle was not here out of unconditional love for Jungkook. He promised himself to always help people in need but truly aiding someone to freedom required a hefty journey in the process.

Right at this moment however that sentiment seemed like empty words.

This was not Belle’s world. The idea itself was what caused a pit in his already upset stomach. She didn’t grow up in this life nor did she choose it. It was never supposed to a part of her but now she had to deal with evil test of fate.

Jungkook intertwined his fingers with her loose ones, pressing reassuring pecks on her jawline as his hips snapped against hers. Sneaking a free hand between her legs he rubbed onto her clit hoping to give her some kind of pleasure while his own orgasm rolled to the edge.

A light tickle shot through her but stopped midway when she could feel him reaching his release. The way his face contorted and his thrusts grew desperate but sloppy.

This isn’t real. Fingers fisted at the sheets. This isn’t real. A light groan uttered under his breath. This isn’t real. More tears burning and gathering at her overflowing eyes.

This is real.

The man stilled as his release burst through his veins.

Her body lay compliant as she felt herself being filled up to the brim. Belle sucked onto her bottom lip, closing her eyes almost trying to turn back time somehow.

Jungkook hesitantly leaned in and tried to press a kiss on her cheek.

“Get off me.” She whispered. “Please.”

The male paused feeling a burning behind his eyes when she still tried to be kind despite what he did. Pulling out of her gently, Jungkook got off the bed with a shaky sigh curling his hands into fists when he couldn’t comfort her. How could he? He was the reason she needed comfort in the first place. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jungkook turned away to the bathroom.

Yoongi didn’t realize he had been gripping onto the grill of the window the whole time, until he felt something wet on his palms. When he pulled away it felt like taking a splinter out tiny little bleeding holes interrupting the lines.

His ears pricked up at the trembling sigh the other let out.

When he looked over at him, his cheeks were already stained with tears while a few more flooded at the brim watching Belle slowly shift to the middle of the bed. “I have—” The male whispered before swallowing down painfully. “I have to go to work after this.”

The both of them helplessly watched the girl shake and force herself to sob quietly as she fixed her dress.

“Please…go see if she’s okay. If you can.” The pleading look in Jimin’s eyes mimicked the ache in his exhausted heart. They both knew Belle didn’t deserve this mess. They both witnessed her kindness and now saw her pain.

Yoongi nodded even though it was clear there was nothing any of them could do for her right now. Not at this moment. God if he could just tell him right there and then that he was trying his best to help her out of here.

But when he saw the way Belle curled into herself and tried to take to deep breaths while tears were still streaming down her face.

He knew he had to do a whole fucking more than his best.

-

Two nights later.

Sun felt warm on her skin, shoes crunched against the pavement as she relished in the murmurs and cheers of the market. How long had it been since the woman had just walked through this corner of wonders? All the high fashion shows, sleek garments and elegant wear were almost nothing compared to the raw simplicity of the red cotton or hand crafted jade jewelry. Belle remembered how she used to create necklaces out of flowers and little stones giving it to Taehyung as a gift because he was the only one who would accept it.

No matter how high she went in this pillar of success, this still brought a warmth in her heart without fail.

Wandering eyes paused on one clothing stall in particular. Padding closer, she saw the smallest pair of yellow shoes shining in the sunny day just at the edge of the display. A smile tugged at her lips when she noticed tiny daisy details embroidered onto it. Carefully the woman picked the pair up almost worried that it might fall apart because they looked so delicate and innocent.

“You have child?” The lady at the stall smiled at her kindly as she waved herself with a fan to waft away the heat.

Belle smiled, relishing the soft fabric under her fingers pads almost acting as a therapeutic substance. “Not yet.” She chuckled softly. “How much is this?”

The lady boxed the shoes up carefully before handing it to her with a bracelet for free. When Belle tried to refuse, she waved it off with that same sweet smile. “It’s for good fortune.”

With slight reluctance the girl thanked her again and moved onto the other stalls. As her eyes wandered, she stopped at the sight of a familiar figure walking out of the market area towards a pay phone. Forehead knitted and curiosity peeking, Belle moved to the more crowded areas so she could see what was happening without being caught. Sneaking around was not the most elegant behavior but at this point, the girl lost all care of what was proper and improper.

Pausing behind the payphone Belle hugged the bag to her chest finally catching Yoongis’ voice speak into the call.

“Jeon family is more traditional than you think, man. They had witnesses to watch the consummation.” Anger was clear in his tone especially in the way it rasped a little more when he tried to lower his volume. “Jungkook handpicked the damn witnesses, what kind of fucked up family is this?”

Belle felt a strange air of relief hearing someone else say those words other than her screaming it over and over again in her mind. Despite the urge to thank him for reassuring her sanity, she stood still to listen when he spoke up again.

“Jungkook is adding extra security to the Gongneung den, all his strongest supplies are there. He knows there’s rats in his empire so we need to get this done before he finds a way to hide all of it again.” His voice was much lower than before.

The woman still caught all the words that were needed however. Heart pounded against her ribcages padding closer to the payphone until the worry of Yoongi seeing her did not resonate anymore.

Yoongi gave a few more words of encouragement to Namjoon before doing his checks again and the sound around him numbed. He saw a familiar reddened and teary gaze fixated on him. For a moment he wanted to believe that she just arrived not hearing a word of their conversation but he knew better than to be so naïve.

Before he could think up a strategy, Belle rushed over to the male in a huff and stood merely a breath away from him with her back pressed slightly against the phone. There was a flash of anger on her face before it faded into something that made Yoongi wish the anger could come back again so he could endure it better.

“You’re a police officer?” Bottom lip trembled and her already exhausted eyes flooded with heavy tears. “And you just watched that happen?” Belle knew why Yoongi couldn’t just burst into the room and stop the event just like she couldn’t stop Jungkook or Boyoung from going on with tradition. But the sensible side of her lost its way that night and now the girl found it far too difficult to find it.

“If I could, I would’ve shot all of them right there and then.” He murmured feeling his stomach drop at the way her voice couldn’t keep any of its usual composure anymore. “I want you to get out of this. I really do. But we need to—we need to work together if this is ever going to stop.” His words dialed down to a whisper now that their faces were merely a breath apart. It took a few minutes for him to realize that his hand was caressing her cheek, sloppily wiping away the tear that flowed down to his thumb.

How long had it been since she wanted to hear someone say those words? Someone that could help her get out of this. A part of her would have agreed in seconds, for the first time falling into another’s arms and feeling like she did not have to do anything. But the tiny yellow shoes in the bag grew heavy on her. “Yoongi—” Belle breathed out staring down at her purchase, hands shaking.

Confused eyes flickered down to follow her gaze and immediately saw the miniscule box inside the bag. “What’s wrong?” He opted to search her expression now. “Belle?” Some side of his mind tried to shout that his hand should be back in his pocket. If anyone saw the two standing this way then they would both be in trouble and none of this would be worth it. But she felt so warm and broken that he was afraid they both would fall apart if he moved even the slightest away.

Belle stammered trying to form the words somehow before sniffling. “I’m pregnant.” She sobbed lightly.

The news lingered heavily in the air between them and Yoongi felt like the wall of his mind close into this one thing. All of the things—all of these goals now stripped down to these two words that he prayed would not be true. He knew it might be possibility. He saw the whole thing happen with his own two eyes but for some reason a more naïve part of him—whatever was left of it—wanted to believe they had time. Yoongi took a deep breath before shaking his head. “It’s okay…we’ll figure it out.” He made her meet his gaze. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

She closed her eyes, nodding while her tears seemed to take their own freedom down her face. “Okay.” Words came out in a whisper.

The older male couldn’t help but mimic her nodding for a moment, slowly moving his hand away and hoping no one in the town recognized them. “Do you need a ride home?”

Quickly the girl shook her head feeling an ache in her belly calling the place ‘home’. It would be their child’s home. She would have to accept that someday. “Can we—” She glanced over at the bustling market. “Can we walk through the market for a little bit?” A sad smile tugged at her lips though her eyes glinted with desperation to capture any sense of false joy that came across the path.

Yoongi swallowed a small, unexpected lump in his throat before glancing at the market. “Yeah…of course.”

Maybe a few more minutes of blinded excitement could redeem that little piece of sanity.

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[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 14

Chapter 14: You Can Run

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Language, fighting verbally, sadness

-Words: 3.4k

Chapter 14: You Can Run

Words: 3.4K

When Tom was mad, it was hot. His anger sometimes made you weak at the knees but now, he was fuming. There was nothing remotely sexy about Tom abandoning Parker, his only son.

Parker had been working with Angus Wilson, a sworn enemy of the Hollands, in an attempt to hurt Tom. Parker had been taking out Tom’s men, one by one by the order of Wilson. From the beginning there had been an unspoken rivalry between Wilson’s mob and the Hollands.

Wilson always trying to weasel his way into the inner workings of the mob and cause chaos. Nobody never knew he’d take as far as killing someone innocent just to get to Tom.

Tom’s feelings were divided straight down the middle. He was seething with anger from Parker’s reveal but he had never been so fearful in his entire life. For the past fews months, everything only escalated.

Starting with a somewhat threatening note to the death of Charlotte. In the end she was just collateral damage on a one-sided war.

To the planned murders of Tom’s soldiers. People he had chosen to protect him and his family. People he was close to.

To the death of a close friend. Jazz meant a lot to Tom, her being one of his first friends after joining the mob. They came up together among the ranks. Learning the rules one by one.

To orchestrated murder attempts on you and Tom. You multiple times. Seeing you half-dead lying in his arms, changed him. Only thinking about, coming home and having to tell Parker and Rosie you didn’t make it. He wouldn’t allow himself to be put in the position, he couldn’t.

Tom was selfish the day of the helicopter accident. Vowing to follow you, to be with you, if you died and leave everyone else behind. But his mind couldn’t just allow him to forget about Parker and Rosie though. He didn’t want to leave them, but he felt as though he didn’t have a choice.

At the moment he was granted the liberty to be selfish. Being free of the guilt of choosing to leave his kids. As you slowly lost the life inside you, his mind flooded with what if’s. What if he decided to die alongside you? Leaving Parker, Rosie, his family, and even Harrison and Henry distraught. But Tom had never known happiness where you weren’t in his life. You brought light and laughter into his dark and gloomy existence. You were someone he couldn’t live without.

Tom vowed to only to protect you, Parker and Rosie from now on. Torn by all the thoughts that roamed through his head, if Parker deserved any of this. Parker’s very soul has been tainted with blood and death. Exposing him to the mob might have been a mistake, one you will have to live with.

Tom didn’t see an outcome where someone didn’t end up shattered. Broken down by betrayal or loss. Parker had already broken his heart once today and he wouldn’t let him be the reason you or Rosie had lost their lives. Tom was now looking out for himself, you and Rosie. Parker was nothing more than a traitor.

“You can’t kick him out Tom,” you yelled, trying to calm Tom down.

“The hell I can’t,” Tom shouted, greater in volume.

“He is my son and I won’t allow it,” you said, holding your ground.

“Y/N, he has been working against me this entire time. Against us.”

“He stays.”

“He killed half my men. He killed Jazz.”

“So that’s what you’re really upset about your dead mistress.”

“I never slept with her and you know that. Parker can’t stay here, I can’t even at look at him.”

“I say he can. What are you gonna do? Hurt me? Because you didn’t get your way,” you quipped. You knew Tom would never lay a hand on you.

“No, love. I could never. But know this, from this moment on he is no longer my son,” Tom explained. It was up to you to mend the bridge Parker burned.

You walked out of the office, suddenly craving a drink. Something strong and potent to drown yourself in.

In some way, you understood where Tom was coming from. The mob lessons only started about 2 months ago and you realized that Parker was no longer your sweet loving boy.

Parker, as a child, was always carefree. Never desired the mob life. Scared to hurt even the most delicate butterfly. But now, you had lost sight of who your son was. Lying, sneaking out, back stabbing, all these things were something you and Tom never instilled in Parker.

When Parker first turned down the offer to take on the mantle, you were relieved, ecstatic actually. You knew it would crush Tom’s soul but your son would get to live a rather normal life. Tom definitely wouldn’t stand for it and banish Parker the moment he turned on him but at least Parker would be happy living a life on his own. Not living in the shadows, scared of what lurks behind every dark corner. He could find love and happiness, somewhere far away from here.

Hearing about all the horrible acts Parker has committed broke your heart. That night a few months ago, corrupted him. Inviting him to be a part of a table that he was never ready to play at.

“Mom, is dad in his office?” Parker asked timidly.

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s such a good idea you go in there,” you said, trying to comfort Parker.

“He has to talk to me eventually.”

“He will, he just needs time.”

“How long?” Parker asked. Tom refusing to acknowledge killed him.

“I don’t know —“ you said, but was cut off by Tom slamming his office door shut, hard enough to shake the paintings that adorned the walls.

“Dad, I’m sorry. Everything started when Charlotte died.” Parker stammered, trying to explain himself as quickly as possible as Tom came out his office for a brief second to freshen up glass of scotch.

“Not now Parker, I just ran out of scotch,” Tom said, brushing him off. “Dad please. Talk to me. Let me explain,” Parker begged.

“Parker, you put all our lives in danger. Your mom’s, Rosie’s and mine. I think you understand I can’t trust you anymore.”

“Dad, can we just talk?”

“No.” Tom said retiring back into his office. You didn’t see him for the rest of the night, until he finally stumbled his way up the stairs to your guys bedroom.

Having drunk himself silly though the hours. Finishing every bottle found in his office bar cart. Mixing various liquors such as, whiskey, scotch, bourbon, vodka. If it was in the Holland household he drank it dry.

The next day, he repeated the same process. His men would funnel throughout his office, mainly Haz. And Tom would only leave to freshen up his drink or retrieve the meal you had cooked for him. One time when Tom came back, he found Parker waiting for him in his office.

“Parker what are you doing in here?” Tom asked, annoyed to the last person he wanted to see.

“I need to talk to you,” Parker pleaded.

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what? Ignoring me,” Parker quipped.

“No. I’M FIXING THE MESS YOU FUCKING CREATED!” Tom screamed, letting all his frustrations out.

“Good.”

“What?”

“Yell at me. At least you’re acknowledging me. I’m here. Yell at me,” Parker encouraged.

“You’re only here because your mother insisted you be. If it were up to me you’d be long gone. Parker, I’m not ready to talk about this. Please leave,” Tom begged.

He couldn’t face Parker yet. Not until he had a plan to deal with Wilson. Parker had conveniently left out the part of Wilson being dead.

Parker’s standing with Tom only grew worse. Coming from a normal father and son dynamic, morphing into a mentor and student to now pure chaos. Parker had no clue as to where he stood with his dad.

So he came to the person who knew Tom better than he knew himself, you. Parker knocked on your cracked door, finding you laying in bed invested in a book.

“Mom?” Parker murmured with teary eyes, hiding in the shadow of the doorframe. Shielded from the light.

“Parker? Oh baby come here,” you said, as you saw your son fighting back tears. How matter how old he gets he will always be your baby.

“He hates me,” Parker whispered, crying into your shoulder.

“No, your dad loves you,” you reassured.

“No, he doesn’t. He wishes I was dead,” Parker cried.

“Did he say that?” You questioned, a little agitated with Tom.

“No, but I know. Everything that has happened is my fault.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Mom, it was Wilson who caused the helicopter crash. You almost died. How do you not hate me also?” Parker exclaimed. He knew he really screwed up and didn’t know how to fix it.

“Like this. I love you. I’m your mom and I will always love you. I know you didn’t know Wilson was using you. You made a mistake,” you told him.

“Thank you mom, I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I wish dad believed that.”

“I’ll talk to him and you’ll never lose me.” You held Parker in your arms a little longer. Cherishing the moment. It didn’t matter if he old he grew, you were still able to comfort him.

You made your way downstairs to confront your husband. Parker was more of an adult than Tom at that moment. Tom pouted like his toys had been taking away.

“Tom, we need to talk,” you said, coming into the office.

“Now’s not a good time,” Tom asserted, barely acknowledging you.

“When is it ever? You need to talk to Parker.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t be in the same room with him let alone look at him. What makes you think I can talk to him?” Tom explained. “Tom, he’s your son. Please just talk to him, for me. He thinks you hate him.”

“Y/N, I don’t understand why you aren’t mad. He almost got us killed!” Tom shouted, annoyed that you didn’t feel the same way. It was you who fought for your life the most in the helicopter accident.

“Tom, you can’t blame him for that. Wilson would’ve done it with or without him,” you exclaimed.

“I thought you were fucking dead. And that entire time we sat waiting for someone to come. All I could think about was how I encouraged you to go on the business trip. You couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me but, I made you get on that helicopter,” Tom cried, finally allowing the guilt to get to him.

When you came home, he was only focused on getting your memory back. And if he needed to be everyone’s shoulder to cry on, then he would. Not allowing himself to break. “Tom, you didn’t know—“ you tried to say but were cut off.

“You asked for a separate room at the hotel and refused to eat dinner with me. I thought we could make up on the flight back. Because you’d be confined to a space with me. That’s why I switched it to a helicopter ride instead the jet. Cause the view would be pretty. Give you one last nice memory together before you divorce me.” “I would have never, Tom.”

“I thought I was the reason, I almost lost you. The kids almost lost you. I blamed myself.” Tom cried, a few tears falling. “Tommy, I’m here now. I’m okay,” you whispered.

“Yes you are, but are son is actually the reason. And I can’t look at him without knowing he almost took away the most important thing to me. I’m sorry.”

“Tom, he was just a kid, still is. He needs you to tell you love him and forgive him. If I can forgive him, for almost costing me my life, twice. Can you?”

“Yes, darling. If you need me to, I can. Can you just come here for a second first?” Tom questioned, just wanting to forget everything and have you comfort him for a second.

“Yes.” “I just want to hold you,” Tom said, grabbing a hold of you. You always felt sane in Tom’s arms. Finding solace in the darkest of places. The warm embrace last a while as Tom would shift to get a better hold of you. Nuzzling his head in the crook of you neck as you fiddling with his hair and rubbed soothing circles into his back.

You were the only person Tom could be a hundred percent vulnerable with, besides himself. He complete broke in your arms. A few tears fell down his face as he moved to press soft kisses to your forehead.

“Tom, I love you and we will get through this,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his. “I love you too, darling. I never knew love until I met you,” Tom soothed.

Rosie tried to avoid the family drama as much as possible. She was off in her own little world. Going on supervised dates with Henry around the city of London. Tom required men to be with them at all times. Henry refused it be his dad and Tom needed Haz at the mansion twenty-four seven.

Rosie would try to ditch her security as much as possible. Running from them and tell them she was going to the bathroom when she was going to the alley to make out with Henry.

As she and Henry were coming out a movie. They asked to take the back exit, pretending they were being followed.

“Excuse me miss, but do you mind if we take the employee exit? We think we are being followed by those men over there. Do you see them?” Rosie asked the concessions lady at the theater.

“Not at all. Yes, I see them. Want me to call the police?” She responded.

“No it’s ok. We just need to get home, our car is outside.”

“We lost them. Slow pokes,” Rosie chuckled as they exited to the alley.

“No I don’t feel guilty kissing you in front of them,” Henry muttered breaking away from the kiss.

A black SUV slowly pulled up next to them. It came to screeching halt in front of them and out came two tall, muscular men dressed in all black and one young man, dressed rather dashingly.

“Rosie Holland?” Barked the handsome mystery man.

“Umm… Who’s asking?” Rosie quipped “Someone who really needs to talk to your brother.” “My brother. What did he do know?” Rosie snapped annoyingly. “Oh believe me, something heinous…. Grab her.” Both the men, snuck up behind Rosie and Henry. Knocking them out with a swift knock to the head by the butt of their guns. They stashed Rosie in the backseat and left Henry alone in the alley.

Back at the manor, Tom swallowed his pride and finally approached Parker.

“Hey, Parker. Can I talk to you?” Tom asked. He’d been shutting Parker out this entire time, what would want to make him talk to him.

“Dad, I’m really not in the mood to be yelled at right now. I have made my peace with you, hating me,” Parker explained. “I’m trying to apologize.”

“Oh, sorry. You can continue,” Parker faltered.“I was over reacting, we’ve all

done things we aren’t proud of. I was just mad when I found out you were behind the murders of my men and the helicopter crash. But I realized you couldn’t have known about the crash. You never intended to hurt you mother and I. It’s my fault you went to Wilson,” Tom began. “Actually, I was trying to hurt you,” Parker interjected.

“Well, mission accomplished. Let’s just move on from this,” Tom assured

“Done and done,” Parker said with a tight lipped smile.

“I need a cigar,” Tom said, opening his humidor, pulling out a crisp cuban ,and lightning the end. “Mom, doesn’t like it when you smoke in the house. I specifically remember her saying Tom if you smoke in the house one more god damm time, I’m going to—” Parker mimicked you but was cut off. “Hey. Don’t talk about her like that. We owe our lives to your mother. Okay? What she doesn’t know won’t kill her. Want one?” Tom offered. “Are you sure?” “Yeah, I’ve kind of always wanted to share your first cigar with you. First time smoking anything.” “Well it’s not my first,” Parker mumbled, hiding his face. “Don’t ruin the moment.” Tom blurted.

“TOOOOMMMMM!!” You called out, busting into his office.

“Y/N? Honey, what’s wrong?” “They can’t find Rosie. Or Henry. Jared lost them. He just called the house to tell me,” you hyperventilated, talking so fast Tom and Parker could barely understand you.

“Woah baby, slow down. Take a few breaths. In and out, ]” Tom whispered trying to calm you down. Rubbing you back to soothe you. “Now, tell me. What happened?”

“Rosie is missing. Jared can’t find her. She and Henry went to the movies and then they got lost for a little and now they can’t find either of them.” You explained, tears prickling at your eyes.

“What? Haz, get in here!” Tom whisper-yelled, trying not to blast out you ear drums. As he was still holding you.

“What’s up? Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Haz questioned.

“Rosie and Henry are missing. I’m sorry Haz, but I need you to take the car and go around London looking for them. Take Parker with you. I’m going to stay here with Y/N.”

“Ok,” Haz couldn’t barely manage to speak two words. His son’s life was on the line. “Tom, we have find him. I can’t lose him. He’s all I have left.”

“Haz, we will. I promise,” Tom concluded as Haz left without saying another word.

Haz and Parker immediately got in the car and went to the movie theater, the place Rosie and Henry were last seen.

“Rosie? Henry? Enough games, come out!” Haz screamed, growing more worried by the second.

“I’m going to check behind the theater.” Parker informed Haz. He walked through the emergency exit, the same one Rosie and Henry did 30 minutes ago. He opened the door to find Henry unconscious, lying on the cold concrete.

“Oh my god. Hey, hey, hey. Henry get up. Come on Henry. UNCLE HAZ!” Parker yelled. Henry was knocked out cold. Haz and Parker drove him home but Rosie was still nowhere to be found.

Tom was sitting in the living room, still comforting you. You knew Rosie’s disappearance wasn’t a good sign. Rosie missing was exactly like your kidnapping years before. Mobsters only used you as leverage to get to Tom. They never intended on letting you go, their only agenda being to kill you but Tom had other plans.

You and Tom received a video chat message from an unknown number and decided to answer it. In hopes that it would lead you to Rosie.

“Who the hell are you?” Tom spoke first, alerting the mystery man.

“Oh, how rude. Let me introduce myself. I’m Carter Wilson. As in the son of your dearly departed foe, Angus Wilson.” Carter, Angus Wilson’s son, informed Tom of his demands.

“He’s dead?… What do you want?” Tom barked, trying to dwell on the important parts.

“Someone in your family has done something unspeakable and I’m here to return the favor. Tom Holland, give up your son or face the consequences.”

“He’s not going anywhere.”

“Fine, I see you need a little convincing. Oh, Rosie,” Carter said, snapping his fingers to have one of his goons bring over a battered and bruised Rosie. She had duck taped across her face and red puffy eyes most likely from tears.

“You monster. Let her go. What do you want? Money?” Tom pleaded. The very sight of his daughter in such agony made his heart clench.

“You know what I want, more specifically who. The clock is ticking,” Carter concluded, ending the video without a word more.

“This ain’t a fucking rivalry anymore. This is a war,” Tom muttered, he sure as hell wouldn’t let his daughter’s blood be added to the lives lost.

A/n: Sorry, this is definitely a filler chapter. Even my brother said it was his least favorite chapter.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @dummiesshort @adriannauni @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy @quaksonhehe

[dadsbongos]

Hey, Arvin?

Movie/Game/Show: The Devil All The Time Dynamic: Arvin Russell/Reader Warnings: spoilers for the movie? idk, post-ending time Summary: Self-doubt is often clouded as banter, and Arvin knows that better than anybody - especially after growing close to a certain farm girl. ~~~

Arvin didn't know he would wind up on a farm in the outskirted heart of Terrace Park. He truly did mean to sign himself to war in Cincinnati but it just never happened. A lot of things just didn't seem to work out for Arvin, so he didn't bother himself over it too much - not after everything he'd already done. Besides, his work was good and honest and the people who'd taken him in were good and honest.

Father, uncle, sons, and daughter. They were tight-knit - they had to be with the distant lands they'd been handed as a living space. No neighbors for miles, the children only had each other and the animals to play with until he came along. When the uncle came into a bar within town at sundown and convinced Arvin that being a farmhand was a good life. Now, Arvin was up before the sun with calluses burning at his hands and two young boys clinging to his boots as he went around the farm. But he can't say he hated it.

The two boys, only one year apart from each other and over ten years from him, were like little brothers to Arvin at this point. They were balls of sunshine throughout the home and if they wanted to lend a sinner like him some light, who was he to refuse?

The uncle, the man who'd found him that night, was deceptively sweet. A hulking figure with a soft heart beneath all the muscle. Deceptively smart, too. He'd gone to a life of education before coming to his brother-in-law's side at the farm. He was like a mentor and guiding hand, a kind one, a patient one. One who wanted the best for his loved ones; his nephews and niece, his brother by marriage, and for Arvin himself.

The father was largely unknown to Arvin. Gone away on matters that nobody seemed to know. Personal business. According to the boys, he used to be an involved and loving man until their mother fell ill and eventually died. And Arvin felt sickened upon that news. He felt pity for the children, he knew what it was like to be young and not understand why your mother had to go and your father was bent on going too. He could only pray that their father didn't go down the path his own had.

The daughter, their ages matching, was his favorite to spend time with. She wouldn't do her chores when the others were around, preferring to sit and watch her family as they did theirs. She would trail Arvin around the farm and talk as he worked. Sometimes she asked about what the town was like, other times she would tease him about being so quiet. Playful. Had enough heart to apologize if she ever felt that she crossed a line. He liked that about her. He liked a lot of things about her.

"Hey, Arvin?"

It was a simple phrase, one he'd heard countless times, but it was different from her. A teasing tone and a smile to match - her legs kicking out as she sat atop a stack of hay and watched Arvin brush the horses' manes.

"What is it, darlin'?"

"You ever take Arkle out for a midnight ride?"

She knew he did. She had to have. Why else would she bother with such a question?

"Just askin' since I hadn't found him out here last night. Figured he'd gotten out until I saw you out in the field with him."

Arvin pulled away from May's dirty brown mane to give the girl a quirked brow, "Why bother askin' if you already knew the answer?"

"I like seein' ya get all flustered. Thought you'd figured that out by now."

"Well, what were you doin' out here so late then?" Arvin returned to the horses as he asked.

"Just thinkin' was all."

"That right?" he spared the girl a quick glance, "What was that head a' yours so troubled with?"

She ignored his question and that didn't surprise him. She didn't like exposing her thoughts to anyone. Kept her worries and doubts to herself like they were precious gems, and with as little as this family had, they might as well have been. When you don't have much to call your own, your thoughts and feelings start to feel like little treasures. Arvin knew that first-hand and he wasn't about to steal someone's treasures by digging where he didn't belong.

"You ain't gotta tell me," he only said it to ease the tension of having been brushed over, "Just know I'm here. You follow me around all day, might as well talk to me if you need to."

The last thing he needed - or wanted - was to lose another person in his life. Especially if just talking to them could've prevented it. He knows he should've been keeping a better eye on Lenora and he hopes beyond hope she forgives him for that. He prays that her and her baby are well-cared for in heaven. If anybody deserves to be in the eternal sweetspot of God's domain, it's his dear sister.

"Hey, Arvin?"

Today, he was shucking corn, seated on a barrel, when she called to him from behind. He turned his head and nodded to let her know he was listening.

"You were awful quiet at breakfast this morning. Barely spoke to the boys at all."

"Just thinkin', darlin'. You ain't gotta worry 'bout me."

"I'll always worry 'bout you, Arvin," he feels her hands settle on his shoulders, "You came into Terrace Park alone. You got brought in by Uncle. You're around my baby brothers all the time. My boys, Arvin. My boys. We might share an age but we ain't share a brain. All I can see into your head is all I know about mine. It ain't just for you, Arvin. My daddy hasn't been the same since Mama passed and someone's gotta take care of the family. Uncle loves you to death and I don't blame him, but I'm still worryin'."

He got it. He understood. He was that way with Lenora, and he just wishes he could've done better to protect her. He wishes he could've keep his father around. He wishes his mother wasn't robbed from him so soon. He wishes he had less blood on his hands.

"Can I ease your worries at all?" he returns to his task of shucking corn.

"Where'd you get in from? Why're you here?"

"Knockemstiff. Coal Creek. Nowhere too far," he inhaled sharply as he went to begin his tale of why he left, leaving out certain unsavory details, "I had a sister. She was sweet. Lonely. I left her alone with the wrong sonofabitch," he felt anger begin boiling inside his veins as he relived that day, "she killed herself over him so I… I left. Had nothin' else there for me than makin' sure she was okay and I couldn't even do that."

"Arvin," she leans forward and presses her hands over his, "you didn't hafta tell me if it was so personal. 'M sorry I pried. Sorry about your sister, too, that's awful."

"No," he drops the corn when he realizes how shaky his hands have gotten, "I needed to get that out," he feels his heart burn the longer that her hands rest on his, "I still miss her. I shoulda been there."

Earskell should've kept tighter watch like he'd said.

Those bullies should've known better than to pick on Lenora.

Teagardin should've followed the book he read by.

"Can I hold you, Arvin?" it's barely a whisper.

He doesn't nod. If he wasn't the one to take initiative and press himself back into her chest then she wouldn't have gotten an answer at all. Her arms come around Arvin's shoulders and circle his chest tighter as his eyes water.

"It ain't your fault. It's that bastard, you know that, don't you?" she pressed her lips to his forehead and rested a cheek to the top of his head, fingers running through his hair, "It ain't your fault. Never was. Never will be."

He appreciates the sentiment even though he knows, deep down inside himself, that he'll never truly believe it. It's kind of her to care so much about a boy like him. He hopes she never has to feel the pain he knows so intimately and he hopes he can protect her brothers like he never got to with Lenora. If not to protect the softness in his own heart for them, then for the sake of a farm girl who's holding him so close as he cries in a cornfield.

"Hey, Arvin?"

It's hours past late and he hasn't been able to catch a wink of sleep. The dining table he's seated himself at is swamped in darkness and he's surprised she can even make out his figure.

"Late night, darlin'?"

"Heard you gettin' up. What're you doin' out here? I know it ain't eatin'."

"How can you tell?"

"Eatin' so late with not even a candle is just sad, Arvin. We got more to worry about than sleepin' if that's what you're doin'."

He grins at her answer and shakes his head, "Just can't sleep. You go on to bed; need your beauty rest."

It's that idea that has her feet practically cemented to the ground and her brows furrowing in her self-consciousness. She feels her gut twist at the mention of her needing beauty sleep even though she knows that's not how he meant it.

"Hey Arvin…?"

He nods before remembering she can't see him, "What is it, darlin'?"

"Do…" she presses her lips into a thin line before finally spewing out the question, "d'you think I'm pretty?"

"Well, what kind a' question is that? Wouldn't your daddy kill me for somethin' like that."

"Daddy ain't around long enough."

"I think you're plenty pretty, darlin', but don't worry 'bout what me or what any other boy has to say on your looks, you hear me? Ain't no boy in control of your body, so don't let any of 'em take anythin' from you," Arvin's quiet, voice rasped, "Nobody livin' in that body 'sides you, so you just make sure you like yourself before worryin' on what anyone else has to say."

He thought she was breathtaking, intelligent, fun - he wouldn't ramble on it for as long as he wished only because he wanted her to realize what truly mattered. She was clearly nervous in awaiting his response, if the quivers in her voice were anything to go by, and he wanted to answer this right. He wanted her to know that at the end of the day, all that mattered was her opinion on herself - because she, and she alone, was inside that body until it died. She had to love herself before someone like him had any say. Arvin's learned how to handle such situations since losing the only people he's ever cared for.

"You really think that?"

"Absolutely, darlin'," he nodded before coming to a stand and beginning to walk out of the kitchen, "You should get to bed now."

"Arvin," she reached up and took his shoulders into her hand before pressing a kiss to his cheek once she could make it out from the darkness, "you're a real sweetheart, you know that?"

"I'm just me. Ain't the best man, ain't the worst. But I appreciate the compliment," he swallowed down his nerves and kissed her forehead gently, "Sleep well, now, darlin'."

"Hey, Arvin?" she murmurs as he begins his trek back to his room.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you… for everything. I know you haven't been here the longest, but I can't imagine us without you now."

"I can't imagine me without any a' you either, so don't worry about thankin' me, darlin'."

[heliosthegriffin]

The Adventures of Shota Jaune, Ep II

Chapter Two

---------

Two Months have passed.

---------

The last couple of months had been absolutely wild for Vernal.

First, the woman she respected the most and thought was the strongest in the world was beaten by three children... and Vernal, after it turned out Raven was a complete psycho bitch. In a moment of sheer panic she had just swore allegiance to the strongest thing in the vicinity. The little aura monster that had knocked her old boss's teeth out.

Jaune Arc aka The Boss

It had been a whirlwind of a week, getting her own room with new clothes and an actual bed, people who seemed to care about her, three meals a day and a completely stocked kitchen and someone to follow that wasn’t a complete psycho.

That was the good stuff, that was what kept her going. That and if she wanted to be the world's strongest Huntress it was probably a good idea to train under a actual huntsman, and who was training the human equivalent of a Fire Dust Bomb. While Vernal didn’t consider herself Branwen anymore, the ideals didn’t fade.

‘Nature has only one rule; The Strong owns the Weak.’ Her old mentor’s words came to her again.

Vernal scowled. ‘So much for being the strongest huntress there is.’

Her time at the Arc House had really opened her eyes toward how big the world actually is. 

Raven was strong, really strong. She was a former Huntress and Beacon Alumni, she was fast, strong, high aura levels and control, along with a versatile semblance that made long distance travel her bitch. All of that, to top of all that, to just further put herself outside of the realms of warriors and huntress and huntsman she had Maiden Powers, fucking magic.

But, she lost, not just, because there's always either a hard counter, or a bigger fish, that wasn’t the only reason. Despite her power, despite her being the most notorious criminal in Mistral, despite her experience, she lost...

Because... because...’ Vernal thought. ‘She’s a coward.’

Vernal had seen her kill before, huntsman, brave civilian, or Grimm, or even other tribes. But, never from anything other than a position of power, she always waited till there was a moment of weakness to strike, less warrior more assassin, and if things got too tough she’d whip out her Maiden Powers.

More often than not, when more than one hunter came after them, Raven would have them move out. Saying, “They're too weak for us to bother with.” Now, Vernal was sure it was just her cowardice… Like her inability to stick around with her real family.

Why she took Vernal in to begin with. 

‘Because, she’s a coward… I’m just a replacement, so she doesn’t have to think about…’

The time with the Arcs had definitely taught her that there was more to strength than fighting ability, and Raven was lacking in conviction, the thing Mr. Arc and The Boss had spades.

The Boss was way stronger than anyone she’d ever met, in terms of Aura and physical strength, yet his sisters, mother, those two lackeys of his, and his own father weren’t the least bit afraid of him.

They had conviction, that they knew their family.

Darkness be damned, those two lackeys could even put up a decent fight with him.

The oldest Arc child, Gris could even match her little brother in raw strength for a little while and even hold him down, even if he got up right afterwards. 

Then there was Mr. Arc, if his son was a dust bomb, an all direction and all consuming blast of destruction, then he was a high powered, high precision plasma beam. Not as powerful, sure, but no less dangerous or devastating when used correctly.

Mr. Arc was still teaching his son and his two lackeys… and Vernal even. His skill, aura manipulation, and physical conditioning was insane. Sure, he didn’t have even a tenth of her Boss’s reserves, but he had more than twice Ravens, and he had the skills to manipulate it like it was just another limb of his body.

He could probably beat Raven if he wanted to, and didn’t lack the courage to stand his ground.

Actually, Vernal was entirely sure he could, considering he was fighting her little monster of a Boss right now, and controlling the fight handily.

Mr. Arc practically danced around his son, as the boy tried to land a hit on him, swinging wildly and kicking up small windstorms as he did so. The boy got nowhere close to landing a hit on his father, as the man anticipated blow after blow, stepping out of his son’s range and enduring the shock-waves his son released with practiced ease.

He stepped into his son’s range and stuck his leg out between his son’s moving feet, tripping him, then shield bashing him in the back and sending him flying into the ground. The Boss bounced off the ground, leaving an indent where he hit it, and landed on his back.

The Boss got back up, his face red, and smashed his practice sword into the ground, breaking the ground where it landed, sending boulder sized clumps of earth into the air, Arthur Arc deflected and evaded the earth as it flew at him. Redirecting the earthen shrapnel back at his son with small controlled bursts of Aura Deflection.

The stones and dirt clumps being flung back at the speed of bullets and pelting The Boss, making a show of light when they hit his aura, the light bursting from his aura and creating ripples on top of it.

Mr. Arc was fast too, he moved from one position to the next like he was teleporting, Vernal couldn’t track his movements, his sword striking precisely into The Boss’s chest faster than Vernal could see, Vernal only being able to track his movement based on how The Boss was being knocked backed and where his Aura was flashing, and then with one last lightning quick slash The Boss was knocked onto his back, Arthur stomping his foot onto The Boss’s chest, putting his blade on the boys neck.

“Another victory for me, son,” Arthur said, smirking. “If you had less aura than you did, I could take your head off.”

Jaune pouted, struggling fiercely under his fathers boot, his own strength only barely lifting his father’s foot. Showing off the man’s immense strength as he barely budged, the strength of a real Hunter, and despite how much strength his son had, it didn’t matter if he couldn’t get any leverage to take advantage of it.

“I’ll beat you one day.” The Boss said, red faced and sweating.

“Yes, I’m sure you will.” Mr. Arc smiled. “But, first you got to land a hit on me.”

Vernal wasn’t sure if that was normal father-son conversation, but her definition of normal had long since been warped.

Arthur took his foot off his son and pulled him up. “Good for another spar, son?”

The blonde boy nodded, and then tried to pull his father into a headbutt, but Arthur didn’t budge and then flipped The Boss over his shoulder into the earth.

Vernal would watch late into the evening as the father-son sparred, taking notes mentally on what worked against The Boss for when she’d have to spar with her boss again. He may be her boss, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t give it her all in trying to surpass him, he deserved nothing less than a subordinate who was useful.

The Arcs told her she was priceless, but the only way Vernal knew that she had value was by proving it, and the only way she could was by fighting.

------

Three Months later.

-----

Three Arcs step off of a bullhead, all immediately throwing up their lunches on the ground.

“The family curse, haaah, it strikes again.” Arthur said, being the first one to recover.

“That it does, that it does father.” A platinum blonde who was nearly as tall as her father said putting her hand on her father’s shoulder for support.

The father and daughter watched as Jaune continued to puke his guts out all over the ground, the curse was particularly bad on the youngest, and it truly was a curse, as neither aura manipulation, meditation, or medication helped in the slightest. It was as though the sky’s and heaven’s had a grudge against the Arcs.

Eventually though, they all recovered.

Arthur grabbed both children by the shoulder. “Alright, I trust you two to remember, why, I brought you two with me on a mission.”

The platinum blonde nodded. “You said, I needed more field experience, especially in foreign environments and learning in person was worth more per hour than a day in class could ever teach…. also I forgot father’s day and this is my way of making up for it.”

“That’s right, Gris.” Arthur said with a smug smile.

Gris looked at her only brother. “Why’s he here?” Pointing at the blonde boy next to her.

Arthur smiled nervously. “Because, if neither of us is home to watch him, we won’t have a home when we get back.”

Jaune was fast asleep on his feet, a small stream of drool leaking from his mouth, and loudly snoring.

Arthur pulled his son into his arms, holding him securely and tossing Gris the boy’s luggage.

Gris nodded. “That is a fair point, but why not take his groupies too?”

“Because, I already have enough to worry about with Jaune, who is more than likely going to put someone else in our family by force before we head home, and those two are enough trouble by themselves and I don’t want them picking fights or causing trouble on a mission. Your mom, with her semblance, can handle them no problem, even less so with Vernal.”

“Fair enough, let's get going… What’s it called again?” Gris said with a tilt of the head.

Arthur hummed. “I think it’s called Kuroyuri, apparently rumors of an abnormal grimm have appeared. Something more than the local Hunter can handle.”

===

It had taken a couple hours of walking, through exotic forests and mountainous trails, but the Arc trio managed to make it to Kuroyuri a little after lunch. The Arc boy still sound asleep during the trip, being swapped between his father and elder sister as the situation demand, even when being carried up sheer cliffs,  when they were fording through shallow rivers, or the many fights between the Grimm, Bandits, and Aura Animals on the way to Kuroyuri, nothing of which way enough to prompt his Aura sense that there was enough danger to wake him up.

The Father and Daughter duo were thoroughly famished, and immediately beelined it to the first restaurant they could see, ending up running over to have lunch at a local tea house, Kazehana or something to that effect, The Arc duo were many things, linguist is not one of them.

The Arc’s sudden entrance to the Tea-house was quite sudden, the waitress quite shocked to see two hunters and a sleeping child look at her with a terrifying hungry expression. Needless to say they were quickly seated and served.

 Arthur and Gris finished their meal, several plates of local noodles, boar meat, and some local plants, letting out a satisfied groan of fullness, looking up while stretching and Arthur making eye contact with one Li Ren, the local hunter who requested a seasoned Huntsman investigate the rumors of an abnormal grimm.

There was a moment of eye contact, Arthur’s mind slowly grinding out the details, before realization sets in. His eyes widen and waves the man over with highly animated gestures, pointing down at an empty seat on the floor.

Li Ren stoically processed the actions before calmly making his way over to the table, taking the empty seat. In a matter of moments they were sitting, discussing the details of the contracts, over a cup of steaming tea, while Gris watched and observed, noting important details her father might miss and studying how her father negotiated and asked questions, weaning information out.

“So how long ago was this Grimm sighted?”

“Two or three months ago, It was sighted in the aftermath of a fallen village to the southeast with a horde of Grimm making its way out of the ruins.”

“Hmm, any possible thoughts on it’s species or is it a aberrant?”

“I have talked with those who have observed it from closer, they have described it as being around fifteen meters tall, with a equine bottom half, resembling a fully formed Uma Sama and Elder Imp like grimm’s torso growing from it’s mid back, the sight being quite… disturbing, it seems quite old having many battle scars and weapons stuck inside of it…. I do not know of any species it might belong too, but its too familiar to be a aberrant, Sir Huntsman.”

Arthur frowned, wrinkles creasing his forehead. “This is quite concerning, have you reported this to Haven?”

Li Ren scowled. “We of Kuroyuri, founded it in an attempt to escape Mistrals… less than savory nature, this did not make many friends or allies when we left, any attempts to have contacted Haven have been met with silence.”

“I’ll contact Beacon when I return, this behavior is unethical and unbecoming of a Huntsman institution.” Arthur said, his facing taking on a dark and stormy expression.

The talks between the two men then fade into the background as two children walk into the establishment, an orange hair girl and a black haired boy walk in, only to see their father talking with a blonde headed man, the orange hair girl sighs then spotting a sleeping blonde next to him her father and zips over to him and starts poking his cheek.

Ren sighs and goes to try and stop her from causing trouble, only for the blonde boy to casually wake up and slap her across the room and outside into the street.

The room goes silent in shock, as Jaune rises up yawning, Ren just stands there horrified, Arthur, Gris and Li all looking shocked for different reasons.

‘Did he do it? Did my son just kill a girl by accident?’

‘If he killed that girl, that means we’re probably going to have to waive the fee, and it’ll probably go on Jaune’s record,’

‘Damn-it Nora, how many times do I have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself!?’

Ren though, while horrified, was also quite awed. Nora was the strongest kid in town, he had never even seen her winded outside of training with dad, and she hit him hard enough to break his aura in just two to three hits, and it took him dozens of hits to just bring her down.

This blonde boy just socked her out of the room!

Nora laid on her back, a manic smile on her face. A tingly numb feeling all across her body, with some kind of scratchy feeling beneath the numbness. Awesome. Her aura never felt so low before, outside of Papa Ren fighting her in training. Nora’s aura felt like it was more than half gone!

Nora's smile didn’t fade as she contemplated the sheer strength behind, it didn’t just knock her around, it sent her flying! How far could he make her fly? 

“Jaune,” Arthur said to his son. “Please go make sure she’s alive?”

Jaune yawns, and rubs his eyes. “Who? Did I hit someone?”

“Yes.”

He nods “Ok.” Then he walks to the person with a damaged aura signature outside.

Nora looks at the boy in awe, as he looks down at her. He knees down and puts a hand on her cheek where he hit her. “Pain pain, go away.” Then a surge of light overtakes Nora, and her aura is completely restored and then some.

“Who are you!” Nora says, grabbing Jaune by the shoulders and putting her faces really close to his making intense eye contact.

“I’m Jaune.” The boy says pushing her away, her breath smelled like syrup, and it was making him hungry.

“I’m Nora and this is my brother Ren!” She said dragging the boy over to her brother who still was processing the fact that his sister had just got slapped out of a building.

Jaune thought they didn’t look anything alike, but then thought about his new adopted sisters. Realizing that Nora must have adopted Ren, he nodded.

“Oh cool, he’s like my sisters.”

Nora nodded. “Yeahs my brother, but not my brother-brother, but we’re blood-brother and sister, because we cut our hands and shook hands!”

Jaune’s eyes widen, and made note of what to do when he got home. He had to make sure his sister were has much of his sisters as possible.

“You’re really strong! Want to be friends? Wait, wait, I have a better idea, you want to be me and Ren’s new blood brother?”

“Sure!” Jaune didn’t really have any friends outside his family, he looked at Ren. “Can we be friends too? I mean blood-brother?” 

Who needs friends when you have family!

Ren looked at his feet nervously, the idea of cutting his hand again didn’t appeal to him, but nodded anyway. Nora hugged them both. “That’s his way of saying, yes!”

The three adults looked at the children in amusement, Li and Arthur sharing a knowing look.

“Feel welcome to stay in my home for the duration of your contract.”

“That would be great.”

Gris couldn’t stop smiling at her little brother and his new friends. “They're so cute!” Taking out her scroll and snatching several photos as Jaune and Nora, plus Ren got to know each other.

Only for the adults to scream once Nora brought out the knife and tried to cut their hands.

------

After the knife incident, and Nora finding out she couldn’t open Jaune’s hand no matter how hard she tried, they finally managed to settle down.

An Ren immediately took a shine to her children’s new friend and easily welcomed the Arcs into her home. Despite the fact the two other Arcs and her husband were scarcely in the house as they went out looking for the abnormal Grimm. Taking the time to spoil Jaune and her children, eventually managing to slip them all into matching Yukuta before letting them slip out to play for the afternoon.

Arthur and Li took several days to locate the Grimm, traveling around Kuroyuri looking for tracks and trails to indicate where it was, Gris traveling on the further outskirts acting as a scout.

During that time Jaune had spent all his time playing with Nora and Ren, investigating all over town, now that they’re dads were gone they were going to explore a mountain near the town.

“Be careful in the mountains. Also don’t stray too far into the forest or the lord of the mountain will eat you!” The old man said as Jaune walked into the forest, Nora and Ren followed him.

Ren and Nora followed behind Jaune, grabbing his long kimono sleeves. The kimono was something his eldest sister and Mrs. Ren and the Village girls managed to force on him in his sleep last night.

“What’s the lord of the mountain?” Jaune said, swinging his practice sword in front of him crushing through the brush and tearing up anything in front of him, but also creating a cool breeze behind him that Nora and Ren took advantage of.

Nora laughed. “It’s just a stupid folktale, beside I heard there’s really tasty peaches out in the forest.”

Ren sighed, tugging on Jaune’s sleeves. “Actually it’s a tale about a dangerous animal that lived on the Mountain centuries ago, long ago a there a enormous wild boar that lived on the mountain, the king of a nearby city wanted  to take the mountain, but no matter how many solider he sent none ever came back, so the king himself went, and came back wounded, he declared no man may ever rule over the mountain, as it had its own Lord. The Lord of the Mountain.

An electric look went through Jaune’s eyes, “Awesome, do you think we can find it?”

Ren looked nervous though. ‘This isn’t going to end well…’

A couple hours passed, as the trio totally wandered around the mountain before somehow ending up at the top of the mountain, which instead of peak it hosted a large depression that sunk several dozen feet into the width of the mountains top, home to only wild grass, boulders, some bushes, a large grove of peach trees. 

Nora elbows Jaune, smirking. “See I told you there were peaches at the top.”

Jaune snorts. “Yeah, but you haven’t proven that they were tasty yet!”

Nora frowns. “Fine, I’ll race you over there, and I’ll show you how tasty they are!”

“Fine!” Jaune said as he sprinted towards the peach trees, with Nora hot on his trail.

Ren however, felt quite nervous, as something was making his Aura sense crawl. This place was weird to him. He walked around, trying to find the source of the weirdness here.

He wadded through the waist high grass, noting the grass that had some large passage through it that neither Jaune or Nora caused. Nature trails all over the top.

Then he found it as he walked over to the grove. 

Skulls and bones, all over the ground, shattered into pieces and fragments, and the roots were all over them. The tree had been eating the bones.

Ren felt his blood turn cold, as he noticed the rusted and shattered weapons all over the top now that he looked closely.

He quickly looked around for Jaune and Nora, seeing them eating peaches from the tree in the center. Despite how happy they were, they had to leave now.

Calmly as he could, somehow managing to make himself feel numb, the world taking on a slightly muted color, he walked over only to feel the ground shake behind him. Dust and dirt falling behind him, and the warm breath of air on his neck, on the high mountain top. His calm disappeared.

“Jaune! Nora! This is the Lord of the Mountain’s lair!”

A scream from behind him, pulled Jaune and Nora out from their fun to see Ren on the ground before a huge boar.

Jaune and Nora stood in awe of it for a moment, before Nora realized the danger and ran to protect Ren, Jaune close behind her.

However, he couldn’t help but be awestruck by the big piggy behind Ren that was absolutely leaking aura, it almost had as much as his dad did!

It was also so cool looking! It’s fur was black and thick and hairy! Like it was made of black iron. With one blood red eye and one milky one with a scar going over it. It had a bunch of scar actually, over its sides and on its neck. Jaune bet it fought a bunch of strong guys and piggies too. And it’s tusks were ginormous! Like instead of growing tusks it grew two clay-mores instead!

Jaune put his hand under his chin. Could he tame it? Only for him to scowl as the foul smell of the boar fell over to him. ‘It needs a bath. Otherwise, mom won’t let me keep him.’

“SQUUUUUEEEELLL!!!” The Lord of the Mountain bellowed at the three children who invaded it’s lair as it stomped the ground and got ready to charge. 

Only for it to take notice of Jaune, it’s eyes further narrowed in rage, it was the one who had been stinking up it’s mountain with his aura, now dared come into its home! The Lord of the mountain bellowed out of rage and challenged the boy in front of it, then charged forward intent on brutalizing the boy who dared leaked it’s smelly aura all over his mountain. The one who dared to wake him with his offensive smell. It’s beady eye then saw the discarded peach pits on the ground.

It snorted in pure wrath, they dared to eat it’s sacred peach! The one’s that granted The Lord his longevity?! He would grind their bones into dust for his grove and rend their flesh off their muscle and have the rain’s dance with their blood!

The pitch black boar’s singular working eye glowed with a diabolical spirit, as then blood-crimson lightning sparked over it’s black fur, as it galloped it legs forward in blinding speed, going ahead like a black missile, barreling at the seven year old with all the force of a runaway train. Jaune in a split second decision grabbed Ren and Nora, tossing them into some nearby bushes as he was hit hard enough to be sent flying away, the impact turning making the sky around them shake, the light exploding around them nearly blinding them as Jaune disappeared.

Nora and Lie Ren watch in horror, shivering silently as the boy they just befriended, their new brother flew into the mountainside impacting it with a blood-chilling crunch. The pair’s eyes went wide as they went into shock.

The rock-face shook, and the pig squealed in triumph as Jaune seemed to have been defeated.

“That was mean mister piggy, I don’t like mean people.” Jaune walked out from the dust and shattered rocks falling around him surrounding his impact sight, the rocks bouncing off his aura, and looking no worse for wear, if anything he looked incredibly angry.

His golden aura burned around him causing his clothes to float on etheric currents. The boar snorted at him and bellowed again, unimpressed, in it’s long, long life, it had defeated many opponents, from aura users, to soldiers and bandits, to warriors and huntsmen, and even centuries ago the king of this valley and his army, what was one child to his many fallen foes?

The Lord of the Mountain snorted again, summoning it’s lightning to coat him, and then shot it at the insolent child.

Jaune saw it all though, the sneer in the animals eyes, and the hostility riding it’s aura, and the deathly intent in the creature's semblance. It was all too easy to read it and step aside from where the red lightning hit next to him.

With a flourish Jaune then unsheathes his training sword holding it defensively, ready to fight the old boar.

The Lord of Mountain’s tusks glimmered menacingly in the evening light.

Nora and Ren held their breaths hoping not to give away their positions.

Clank! Klink! Crack!

The boar charged into Jaune, with Jaune blocking the beast with the flat of his sword, being pushed back several feet. The boar lashing out with it hooves that almost knocked Jaune flat before deflecting the blow, it’s tusks swiping at him only to be ducked under, and finally it tried to bite him in half, only for Jaune to hit’s teeth with his sword in a silver flash.

Bzzzzt!

The boar’s fur began to stick up on end as currents of electricity gathered across its body, collecting between its tusks briefly, then exploded in a blast of lightning at Jaune.

Jaune’s eyes went wide as a column wide blast of lightning was shot at him knocking him onto his back spasming, mere feet from Nora and Ren.

The boar saw an opening and charged at him coated in auric lightning power, Nora saw it all in slow-motion, Ren’s heart seized with fear and tried to stop Nora, but she moved faster than she ever moved before grabbed Jaune to pull him out of the way, the boar only grazing him, but still blasting bolts of electricity as it brushed them, a wayward zap hit Nora, knocking her onto her back, Ren quickly running to her side as his sister was laid out on the ground smoke drifting off of her.

The boar gave a evil look at the children as it turn around and charged at them, only for the boar to be punched in the nose before it could run them over. The huge animal reeling back, as it was knocked back, Jaune then rose up, smoke rising off of him, then he jumped up and socked it. Anger in his eyes, as he grabbed the blade of his sword and hit the boar in it’s head with the hilt, sending it rolling across the ground and into the trees, destroying several in the process, Jaune then chasing fast behind it.

As the Lord of the Mountain and Jaune continued to fight, Ren was trying his best to tend to Nora, only he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her as she kept laughing. “It tickles Ren! It Tickles!” Then jumping up onto her feet, grabbing the largest branch see could find then running at Jaune and the Lord of the Mountain.

The Lord of the Mountain and Jaune had fought from the forest line back into it’s den, leaving a trail of destruction and broken rocks behind them, the boar discharging lightning at him and Jaune summoning orbs of Aura to take the blows instead of him, several bright aura orbs orbiting around him at high speeds.

Lightning collects on the boar again, making the boar too bright to look at, wayward bolt striking everywhere blasting Nora back again, as it disappears behind a veil of electricity, then faster than the children’s eyes could follow, the boar flashes out towards Jaune in a series of brutal hits, only for him to deflect every blow in a shining silver strikes, with is Aura taking the blows he couldn’t deflect. 

Then in a matter of moments the fighters became invisible, until an ear-splitting shriek cut the air in two, as a shock-wave cut the air in two, razor sharp winds shearing across the air, cutting all the around in a twenty foot circle in half.

The Lord of the Mountain was breathing heavily, blood-seeping from it’s mouth and nose, mighty as it was, boar weren’t built for this kind of fighting, while Jaune staggered around erratically as electricity stilled flashed over him, his hair standing on end and smoke waffering off of him. Jaune with as much aura as he has, was just as vulnerable to electricity as any aura-user, especially to one such as the Lord of the Mountain, who had honed it’s semblance in many battles, he could heal yes, but the effects on the body were noticeable and quite damaging.

The fighters met eyes with each other, a brief contact, but one that conveyed the tangible amount of respect they had for another.

The Lord of the Mountain scraped the ground with it’s hooves, gathering more of it’s semblance than it had ever before, collecting the red power into its prized tusks, turning them into glowing red and white sabers of energy that zapped with lightning around them.

Jaune held his sword with both hands in low stance, his sword’s tip pointing at the ground behind him, four aura orbs floating around him then one after the other they circled around the blade faster and smaller, till the blade was obscure in white and gold colors.

The two fighters charged, they met, they clashed.

All was still, all was silent, they froze meeting like a still frame image, the small blonde boy wielding an equally small sword meeting a building sized boar in a charge, clashing together, it would look comical if not for the serious look on boys face and the obvious power being thrown around, and the wrecked environment around them.

The clash held for a scarce moment, then the world caught up, as light overtook the senses, followed by an all encompassing boom that echoed across the providence like thunder, that nearly deafened Ren and Nora. Finally was the bone-cracking snap, as the victor was decided.

For a brief moment Jaune and The Lord of the Mountain became visible, the sword biting into the fangs, the rotating sheath of aura diverting the condensed semblance back into lightning bolts around Jaune digging a foot deep furrow for tens of yards behind him. Then,

KA-CRACK!

As the Lord of the Mountain’s tusks were broken in two. The two ivory natural weapons spun in the air and then stabbed into the earth, still crackling with its power, and blood leaking at the base of the shattered ivory.

The Lord of the Mountain thrashed about wildly as it’s mind was overloaded with pain and phantom sensations.

Jaune frowned sadly at it. His dad’s voice then echoed in his head. ‘Never disrespect your opponent with mercy if they come to kill you, give them the warrior’s end. Its the end they deserve.’

Ren and Nora could only watch in awe as Jaune then ran at the Lord of the Mountain, stopping it’s wildly flailing with a running sideswipe at it’s head, knocking it onto its side. Quickly he grabbed a broken tusk holding it firmly, holding the beast still he aligned his blunt sword with it’s eye with a lightning quick motion he plunged his sword, followed by his entire arm, and then part of his shoulder deep into through its eye into it’s head. Completely obliterating it’s brain, and the top of its spine.

In an instant, he broke its aura, cutting’s life away in one ending move.

The beast shutters weakly in pain, once, twice, and then never again.

Jaune frowns as he puts his foot against the head and kicks off, pulling his arm out in a spray of gore, showering the forest floor in red, pink and grey. He then swipes his sword through the air, in an attempt to remove the boar viscera off the blunt sword.

Nora and Ren looked on at Jaune, unable to take their eyes off of him. HIs movements were like nothing they had ever seen, powerful, without mercy, terrifying, and awe-inspiring. They fell to their knees without hesitation, bowing before the great one before them.

“Teach me, oh great one!” Nora said, suddenly latching onto Jaune’s leg. “Show me the way, so that I might break enemies! Those that would be unworthy of you!”

Ren hugged Jaune’s waist. “Show me the ways to manhood, Great Master!” Looked up at him. “Allow this one to have the power to serve you, and protect those I care for.”

With a casual pat to their heads. “Sure, you’re my brother and sister, right?” He said, with a bright smile and face dripping with blood.

Ren and Nora could only hug tighter in excitement, this would be the beginning of a long, long, and deep bond.

--------

It had taken most of a day to get to the creature’s lair, but it was well worth it.

Arthur had Gris play interception, leaving her to fight any Grimm that tried to attack Arthur and Li as they fought the Nuckaleeve as they found it was called.

Gris watched in amazement, as she finished the last of the fodder grimm, cutting a deathstalker in half with her zweihander, as her father and Mr. Li Ren fought the Nuckaleeve.

While Li Ren did not have much power behind strikes, he could shoot dozens of arrows near instantly, laced with some type of dust or another, and could easily dodge the blows that the Nuckaleeve tried to hit him with.

Her father just kept proving why he was the patriarch of the house, as he matched the monster blow for blow, overpowering it and laying it back as Li Ren froze, burned, and electrocuted it’s limb.

Till Arthur finally knocked it to the ground and sawed off the horse like head off the abomination as Li sniped the head off the top of the thing they called a Nuckaleeve.

Arthur stretched as he popped his body. “What a work out, haven’t fought something that strong in years, even if it was a little disappointing.”

“A little much for me,” Li said, taking a seat. “I would prefer it if I never had to see something like this ever again.”

Arthur shrugs. “To each their own,” He then smiles at the man. “How does it feel to longer have that monster hanging over your head?”

Li gave a wide smile. “Like a boulder has been lifted from my shoulders, ah, it feels like I just regained ten years of my life back. My Ren and Nora, will now be able to grow up in relative peace, hopefully.”

Arthur gave him a pat on the back, nearly knocking the man onto his face. “They will grow up in peace, if you ever have any other trouble, do not hesitate to call the Arcs.”

Li’s eyes started to water, but he quickly rubbed them away. “Then, I suppose there is one thing I have concerns about, in your time here in Kuroyuri, have you heard of the Lord of the Mountain?”

--------

Arthur couldn’t be prouder of his son if he tried as he lugged a two story tall boar through the town square whilst that little girl Nora shouted out a story that would probably fit right in with a Mistralwood movie, the boy Ren giving out details to smooth the story along.

“The Lord is dead, the Lord of the Mountain has died!” An old man shouted.

“It was real?”

“I thought for sure, that the old man was full of shit!”

“I’m not that old! I'm forty five, I just smoke a lot!”

“You should really quit, it’s bad for your health.”

“If I wanted your opinion I’d bloody well ask for it! Anyway the Lord of the Mountain is dead!”

Arthur gave his new friend a sly look. “So, about that problem… I don’t think you need to worry about it.”

Li grabbed his head and shook his head from side to side, a tears of happiness running down his face. “I suppose I do not.”

He rubbed his face dry, then grabbed Arthur by shoulder. “Tonight we party! Kuroyuri is safe again, and these are our champions! Tell the mayor we are celebrating tonight!”

Cheers erupted around the plaza.

--------

The party lasted for several days, as the news made its way around the neighboring villages who went to join and congratulate the Arc’s and the Ren Family.

Positivity at an all time high, fun was had, merriment too, but all good things come to an end.

A Bullhead sat on the outskirts of the village, which was being loaded up with gifts, and some of the remains of the Lord of the Mountain.

Nora and Ren clung fiercely to Jaune, tears running freely down the trios face.

“I don’t want you to leave!” Nora dug onto him tightly

“You’re our brother, don't leave us!” Ren buried his head into the blonde boys shoulder.

Jaune was silent, despite his teary eyes, then he flicked them both on the head. “Quiet! You’re my brother and sister, aren't you going to be strong?”

The two shut up filled with shame.

“This isn’t me leaving, this is me going somewhere else, I’m going to be back and stronger than ever, so don’t think I won’t be back! I would never abandon by brother or sister, so don’t insult me by saying I would leave you forever. So, promise me you two will get stronger, so when I come back we can go on more adventures, promise me!” Jaune looked at them firmly, his eyes still red and puffy.

Nora dried her eyes, and Ren blinked away the tears.

“Yeah! I’m going to get stronger than ever, if you don’t come back I’ll break your legs and bring you back!”

“I’m going to be a real man, Jaune! I’ll show you how strong I can be, so you better come back, or we’ll track you down and bring you back with us for good.”

Jaune looked strong for a moment, then broke down in tears again and hugged them tightly. “I’ll miss you guys.”

Gris looked at them through her scroll, recording the whole thing.

“Couldn’t we, you know, take them with us? We already got the other three groupies, what are two more?”

Arthur swatted her head, “I’m a serial adopter, not serial kidnapper. Anyway, I like Li enough, but not enough to steal his kids, so no, I’m not taking his kids.”

Li gave him a narrowed eye glance. “I’d prefer to keep my children,”

An Ren then carefully puts away a kitchen knife. “I’d cut a bitch, if you tried.” An Ren then smiles. “Anyway, the Arcs are always welcome in our home, you three better come back soon with the rest of your family.”

Arthur gulps, but nods. “Yeah, the misses wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t take her here. So, will come once I get the children settled.”

Gris smiles. “We’ll be back for the junior Mistral Regional Tournament, Dad wants to put Jaune in it. Thinks it’ll be funny.”

Arthur looks off into the distance. “Damn right it will.”

It took some effort, but they separated the children, and loaded up the Bullhead flying home.

------

The three Arc got off the Bullhead onto the Arc Estate, then promptly emptied their stomachs.

The curse striking hard, the one thing the Arc will never defeat.

Airsickness.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 30

A/N:  Okay, so, special announcement.....

The President Wears Prada is ending at Chapter 35.

I know a lot of you weren’t expecting this, but that is where I have planned it to end.  It’s a natural end.  Nothing will be forced.  There’s still a lot left to go, a lot to happen with Aberdeen, Willy, and everybody else, and a lot to write about.  I haven’t written up to it yet, but I know exactly what is going to happen.  I didn’t want the end to come as a shock to you, which is why I’m announcing it now.

In the meantime, enjoy this chapter!

July 1st, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was with William on the rooftop of his condo building.  

She’d spun a wild web of lies to make sure she could be with him after he begged to see her for Canada Day.  It was a bit awkward this year, because it landed on a Wednesday, right in the middle of the week, but she’d managed.  She’d told Kasha she was with her family.  She’d told her family she couldn’t stay the whole day, and because they spent the morning and the afternoon together already, they were okay with that.  

She was getting too good at lying.

“What are you thinking about?” William asked as they lay together on a recliner they had dragged from underneath pergolas so they could see the night sky.  Though there was too much light pollution in Toronto to see a sky full of stars, there were still some bright stars in the sky along with the glowing moon.  From all the way atop the building, they could barely hear the noise from the city below.  

She smiled.  “For the first time, nothing,” she said, cuddling her head onto his chest even more as he held her hand against her heart.  “My mind and my heart are at ease right now.”

She could feel him smile.  He liked how she felt so at east with him.  He liked how he could make her feel that way in between the stress of her job and moving forward in her career.  He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

She raised her head from his chest to cock an eyebrow up at him.  “We’re not having sex on the roof of your condo,” she deadpanned.  

He snorted.  He didn’t blame her for thinking that’s what he wanted.  Ever since he got back to Toronto, they fell back into the habit of sneaking around.  Most of it happened at his apartment now, in between skating at Scotiabank Arena and Aberdeen telling Kasha she’d have to be there the whole day and not just the few hours when they boys were in.  “No, minskatt.  Something else.”

“What something else?”

William shifted his body so he was sitting up more, causing Aberdeen to shift too, straddling his lap to face him instead.  She ran her hands over his chest quickly before he took them, kissing them both, before she watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.  “You weren’t the only one I was talking to during quarantine.”

She furrowed her brows at him.  She knew he wasn’t cheating – he wouldn’t be risking her career and her reputation if he was just going to cheat on her – so she had no clue what he meant by that.  “What does that mean, exactly?”

“I thought you deserved some good news during the lockdown…quarantine…whatever,” he began.  “So I got Kyle to send me Max’s number.”

“Who’s Max?”

William rolled his eyes and giggled.  “Max Kerman, minskatt.  From the Arkells.”  He watched as her face lit up before he continued.  “He told me to tell you they’re coming out with a new album.  Well – new.  It’s, like, an acoustic album.  They’re re-imagining all of their songs as if you’re singing them around a campfire,” he explained.

“Really?” Aberdeen was excited by the news.  “That’s so cool.  I love when they do acoustic sets.”

“Mhm,” William nodded.  “They’re releasing it in August.  But they’re actually including one new song.”  He paused for dramatic effect.  “Want to hear it?”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out of their sockets.  “What do you mean want to hear it?  You have it?!”

William nodded.  “Max sent it to me.  I told him about how much of a fan you were, and he remembered you from the mentor’s trip, so he didn’t mind so long as we were the only ones who heard it.”

He could see her eyes light up like fireworks.  “Well—well of course!  I’m not gonna leak it!” she said as if Max were standing in front of them.  “Is it acoustic too?” she asked.  William nodded.  “What’s it about?”

“Let’s see,” he smiled, fiddling around with his phone, shaking slightly.  “I’ve listened to it once or twice.  I think it’s a love song.”

Aberdeen waited impatiently as William found the song.  He turned the audio up on his phone to the highest level as she heard Max’s voice count the beat in.  When the acoustic guitar started, she automatically fell in love with it.  Melodic, as always, sounding like a perfect Arkells song.  She swayed back and forth gently, and at that point, she saw William staring at her.  

I think about you all the time I can’t get you off my mind

Aberdeen’s body seized up immediately.  I think about you all the time.  I can’t get you off my mind.  I think about you all the time.  I can’t get you off my mind.  I think about you when I’m not even thinking.  I think about you when I’m not even thinking.

A rush of emotion flushed her entire body.  “Willy—” she tried to get out, her voice strained as she pushed away from him.

“Minskatt—” he grabbed her hands on his chest as she pushed away so she couldn’t push away any further.  “Minskatt, come on—”

“—Willy what did you do—”

“—Minskatt, minskatt shhhhh,” he cooed as he saw tears begin to fall down her cheeks.  “Minskatt, listen to me—”

“Willy,” she stressed, looking him in the eye.  “Willy, is this song about me?  About us?”

He nodded softly.  “I got him to write a song about you.  Like your dream.”

Aberdeen burst out into tears, covering her face with her hands as she sobbed into them.  William stopped the song and leaned forward to wrap his arms around her, bringing her into his chest to cry.  He held her tightly and placed a kiss on the crown of her head.  “Why are you crying, minskatt?” he asked.

She didn’t respond at first.  But when she lifted her head from his chest and wiped her eyes to be able to see him clearly, she finally did.  “Are you joking?  Why am I crying?” she asked rhetorically.  “My boyfriend just got my favourite band to write a song about me!” she exclaimed.

“But you like that I did that though, right?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes.  That at least made her smile.  “Of course I like it, you Costco hot dog,” she said, making him chuckle.  “But I don’t – how did you – I mean what – how—”

“I called Max, and I told him about how there was this girl,” William said.  “I didn’t tell him too much.  Don’t worry.  I didn’t tell him it was you.  But I told him what was important, and some things to include.  And he wrote it, and sort of filled in the rest with his own stuff.”

Aberdeen couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  William had gotten Max Kerman to write a song about her.  About them.  Without even revealing their secret.  And he’d recorded it.  Mastered it.  Put it on an Arkells album.  Would tour with it.  Sing it to crowds—

“The best part about it is whenever we hear it on the radio, we’re the only two people in the world who know it’s about us,” William said softly, looking her in the eye.

Aberdeen started crying all over again.  She let her face fall back into his chest as he held her again.  She cried her eyes out.  This was, bar none, the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her, let alone a boyfriend.  She was so overwhelmed with emotion that she almost couldn’t handle it.  William, for his part, let her cry until she was all cried out – until she lifted her head again and wiped her eyes again too look at him.

“Can I play it?” he asked.  

She nodded her head, preparing herself.

I think about you all the time I can't get you off my mind If they only knew Who I've been talking to You got a place off the park I'll come on by after dark Was nervous then When you let me in

We were hanging at cross town parties, oh Just killing time until the main event

And it hurts All throughout my insides I couldn't stop if I tried Loving you I'll never learn So I'll call you when I'm outside You said, "The key's behind the porch light for unit two" I thought of maybe quitting But there's no quitting you

You said that the fridge is dry But you got some red, you got some white The drunks outside Singing lullabies Slow dance swaying back and forth Whispering "What's mine is yours" When you say my name Hits in a different way

You call me out when I'm talking nonsense, oh And I'll kiss you when I got nothing to say

And it hurts (oh oh oh) All throughout my insides I couldn't stop if I tried Loving you I'll never learn (oh oh oh) So I'll call ya when I'm outside The key's behind the porch light for unit two And I thought of maybe quitting But there's no quitting you

My whole life I'm scanning for the exits, oh Lying next to you I don't wanna leave

And it hurts (oh oh oh) All throughout my insides And I couldn't stop if I tried Loving you I'll never learn (oh oh oh) So I'll call ya when I'm outside The key's behind the porch light for unit two And I thought of maybe quitting But there's no quitting you There's no quitting you

By the time the song finished, Aberdeen had stuffed her face into the crook of William’s neck.  She let some last tears fall.  “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said in his ear.  

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, minskatt.  Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker.”

“Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker.”

***

July 10th, 2020

The NHL announced its Return to Play Plan on May 26 with 24 teams in competition for the Stanley Cup.  The tournament begins with the Stanley Cup Qualifiers, which include 16 teams paired in eight best-of-5 series and a round-robin among the top four teams in each conference to determine seeds for the Stanley Cup Playoffs. "I want to make clear that the health and safety of our players, coaches, essential support staff and our communities are paramount," Commissioner Gary Bettman said when announcing the Return to Play Plan. "While nothing is without risk, ensuring health and safety has been central to all of our planning so far and will remain so. "Let me assure you that the reason we are doing this is because our fans have told us in overwhelming numbers that they want to complete the season if at all possible. And our players and our teams are clear that they want to play and bring the season to its rightful conclusion." The format was determined in meetings of the Return to Play Committee, which included executives from the NHL and NHL Players' Association, and five players: Ottawa Senators defenseman Ron Hainsey, Edmonton Oilers center Connor McDavid, Winnipeg Jets center Mark Scheifele, Toronto Maple Leafs center John Tavares and Philadelphia Flyers forward James van Riemsdyk. The qualifiers are being held at two hub cities: the 12 Eastern Conference teams are in Toronto, and the 12 Western Conference teams are in Edmonton, also the site of the conference finals and Stanley Cup Final.  A comprehensive system for testing is in place in each hub city, and each team was permitted to travel a maximum of 52 personnel, including players, coaches and staff. "Obviously, we anticipate playing over the summer and into the early fall," Commissioner Bettman said in May.  "Obviously, these are extraordinary and unprecedented times.  Any plan for the resumption of play, by definition, cannot be perfect. And I am certain that, depending on which team you root for or which team you cover, you can find some element of this package that you might prefer to be done differently.  But we believe we have constructed an overall plan that includes all teams that, as a practical matter, might have had a chance of qualifying for the playoffs when the season was paused. And this plan will produce a worthy Stanley Cup champion who will have run the postseason gauntlet that is unique to the NHL."

***

This was Aberdeen’s second training camp for the same season.  She never thought she’d ever experience a professional sports team’s training camp in her entire life, let alone two.  But her life had taken a turn one year ago (thirteen months now, if we were really counting) when she met William at that bar and had slept with him.  Everything she had experienced this year was…surreal, to say the least.  And that was just in her personal life.  Never mind her professional life.

Although the lines were blurred these days between her personal and professional life.

At Scotiabank Arena, she knew the entire team was on the ice a few floors below Brendan’s office.  She knew Sheldon was putting them through drills, making them skate laps around the rink, shoot at the net – whatever they needed to do to feel like hockey players again.  Whatever they needed to do to go all the way.  Whatever they needed to do to win the Stanley Cup.

“Aberdeen,” she heard her name being called by Brendan.  She shot up from her seat and made her way into his office.  He looked up at her through his glasses as he continued to focus on his laptop screen.  “Close the door behind you, please.  And sit.”

Suddenly her nerves got the best of her.  He never usually needed her to shut the door unless they were talking about something confidential.  “Is everything okay?” she asked, sitting.

He sighed, taking off his glasses and laying them beside his laptop.  He took a good look at her before he began speaking again.  “Aberdeen, I’m going to ask you a serious question, and I need you to think about it before answering me.”

She gulped.  “Okay…”

“Do you want to come into the bubble?”

She was shocked.  He hadn’t spoken to her about the bubble yet, and on the first instance he did, he was asking her to go into it.  This was a grand total of three days before the clubs had to submit the final list of the 52 personnel who would be going in, so she was sure she wasn’t being considered anyway.  “Me?”

He nodded.  “You’d fulfill roles for both Kyle and I, and you would be helping the content creator with the social media aspect of the bubble,” he explained.  “But Kyle and I were speaking, and as we were going through the list of employees to bring, your name came up.”

“I…me?”

“You’re reliable.  Your hard-working.  We know you’re not going to break any rules.  And fuck, there’s some extensive rules,” he picked up a heavy duotang, wagged it at her, before plopping it down on his desk again.  “But it’s going to be tough going in there.  Psychologically.  It’s not going to be easy.  Especially if we go all the way.  And believe me…we want to go all the way,” he stressed.  “That’s why I want you to think about it.”

***

“Brendan asked me to be in the bubble.”

Aberdeen and William had a bad habit of asking things or blurting things out after sex while they were lying in the bed, she with her tits out, trying to catch their breaths.  When she looked over at him, his eyes were bulged out.  “What?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head.  “He wants me to fulfill my role and help the content creator with the social media aspect.  But yeah…he wants me in there.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what she was expecting to hear from William, considering the information they already knew about the bubble and knowing that much more information was to come, but it definitely wasn’t a decisive, stern, “No.”

It was her turn to whip her head to look at him.  “Excuse me?” she asked.  “No?”

“No,” William shook his head.  “I don’t want you in there, Aberdeen.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows, not understanding why William was acting like this and saying these things.  She shifted so she was propping herself up on her elbow.  “William…I…what?”

“You…I…listen,” he began, sighing, “as much as I love you and as much as I’m gonna miss you when I’m quarantined in there, I don’t…I don’t know if I want you being in there.  I don’t want you to experience that.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve already gotten the rules.  We can’t be in each other’s rooms.  Aberdeen, we can’t even speak in the elevators.  It’s…I don’t know if I’d be able to do all that knowing you’re there too.  But even more important than that, I don’t want you to risk anything.  Your safety, your health.”

“Willy…” she cooed, bringing an arm up to drape around him.  In turn, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, placing a quick kiss on her shoulder.  “I know you want me to be safe, but I’ll be safe in there.  If you’re safe, I’m safe in there too.  What’s the difference?”

William continued to shake his head.  “I don’t want you to have to go through, psychologically, what I’m gonna have to go through.”

She brought a hand between them to cup his face.  “You don’t have to be the martyr here, Willy.  It’s not like I want you to go through it either.”

William sighed, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.  She could feel his lips graze her skin on her neck and shoulder, but he stayed silent.  He didn’t say another word.

***

July 12th, 2020

“I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do what?”

“I’ll come into the bubble.”

Brendan looked up from his desk, finally.  He took off his glasses.  “You’re sure about this?”

“Positive.”

“Because once you say yes you can’t back out.  We have to submit the names to the NHL officially tomorrow.  And once you’re in the Royal York, you can’t leave unless it’s a family emergency – death, birth of a child—”

“I know.  I read the package,” she nodded her head.  “I understand what I’m getting myself into.  I’ll do it.”

***

July 16th, 2020

Aberdeen walked gingerly into the coffee shop Brendan had sent her to.  In the middle of a pandemic.  She understood cases were now fairly low in Ontario, but she was still apprehensive.  People shouldn’t just be…going places.  Walking into offices that weren’t their places of work or coffee shops that weren’t their regular coffee shops or grocery stores that weren’t their regular grocery stores.  Places that they didn’t know.  That they weren’t used to.

Yet here she was.

She stood at the door awkwardly.  There were exactly three spaces for indoor dining when, in regular times, she knew there would be much more.  At one table, a couple sat with masks on and coffees in front of them staring at their phones.  At another, a girl who couldn’t have been older than here was sneakily taking a Snapchat selfie.  At the third—

“Aberdeen Bloom?” the woman sitting at the table asked.  Her eyes crinkled slightly, signaling to Aberdeen that she was smiling behind her mask.  “Please, sit!” she motioned to the chair.  

“Hi,” Aberdeen said awkwardly, extending her hand but then pulling it back violently before half bowing as a form of saying hello.  She was so fucking awkward.  She didn’t even know what this was for.  “That’s me, Aberdeen Bloom.  I’m Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.  And your name is…”

“I’m Beth Zadakis, the major features editor of Toronto Life magazine.”

Aberdeen’s breath hitched in her throat.  She was going to fucking kill Brendan.  She was going to go back to the office and murder him in cold blood.  “It’s so nice to meet you,” she said politely, thinking about the gold-plated envelope opener in Brendan’s desk she could use to stab him.  “You’ll have to forgive me, but Brendan didn’t really give me any information about this…uh, meeting,” she said.  “What is it that he needs from you?  Or you from him?”

“Nothing, actually,” Beth’s eyes crinkled again.  “It’s actually more so about you.  Brendan tells me you’re a writer.”

Aberdeen gulped.  “I’m definitely trying to be.”

“Have you submitted to us before?”

Aberdeen nodded.  “Just to the memoirs section.  I think it was Sandy who read my work, but it was ultimately rejected.  At least, that’s who I got the email from.”

Beth nodded.  “Sandy’s actually left to take a job with The Globe and Mail.  And due to some promotions and transfers, there’s actually an opening for a contributing editor – it’s what we call our writers.”

Aberdeen knew very well what Toronto Life called their writers.  She had dreamt of seeing her name on that list for years now.  “Why…I mean—how do I factor into this?” she stuttered out.

“Brendan tells me you’re going into the NHL bubble.”

“I am.”

Beth leaned in slightly.  “We’d like for you to write a feature for the magazine about life in the bubble.  The hotel, the boys, the games – everything.  Hockey in a pandemic.  A full feature, anywhere between five to ten thousand words.”

Aberdeen’s body felt like it was on fire.  She was sure her eyes were bulging out dramatically, but at this point, she didn’t care.  “I can do that,” she said, nodding her head.  “I can do that.”

“If you can pull it off, Aberdeen, you’ve got a job with the magazine.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest.  “I can do it.  I won’t let you down.”

Beth shifted slightly in her seat and took out a piece of paper.  “I’m going to write you the name and contact information of my senior editor, Alec,” she said.  “He’ll want to meet you and speak to you about the piece.  But it’s a go, Aberdeen.”

***

“A major feature, minskatt?” William’s eyes lit up at the news Aberdeen had just shared, her giddiness and excitable energy rubbing off on him quickly.  “That sounds important.”

“Is is important!  It’s the longest feature of the magainze!  Willy, it’s usually the cover!” she exclaimed.  “The—the cover!  Do you know how much of a big deal that is?!”

“I can tell from how much you’re freaking out about it,” he smiled.  He reached to grab her hands and intertwined their fingers.  He pushed them and crossed them at the small of her back before moving closer to her body and giving her a quick kiss.  “Look at you, minskatt.  I’m so proud of you.”

“Well, I haven’t written it yet.”

“Yeah, but you’ve shown me your writing.  And it’s fantastic.  So you’re gonna knock this one out of the park.”

Aberdeen knew how lucky she was to have someone like William in her life, always supporting her and always being her biggest cheerleader.  While other people had told her to pursue other things, he was there encouraging her – the silent support she always wanted and needed.  “I love you.  D’you know that?” she asked tenderly, looking up at his big blue eyes.

He could only smile.  “Not as much as I love you.”

She chuckled slightly.  “You realize if I knock this out of the park, that means I become a contributing editor at the magazine.  I become a writer.  My dream.  And that means I leave the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

“That means I can finally kiss you in public.”

Aberdeen smiled.  It did mean he could finally kiss her in public.  It meant a lot of things.  They could finally be open with their relationship.  They could go out on dates publicly.  They could go out to dinner.  She could bring him to San Remo Bakery.  They could have picnics in the park.  They could walk along the lake.  They could post on Instagram about each other.  She could finally have the name set as ‘William Nylander’ on her phone as opposed to ‘Head Empty’ (maybe she’d keep it that way).  They could do so much.  So so so much.  “It would be bittersweet leaving…” she bit her lip.  “I mean…I love my job, Will.  I love all the guys.”

“Brendan wouldn’t have put you up for the job if he didn’t think it would be a great opportunity for you,” he shrugged his shoulders.  “The guys would miss you but they know you want to become a writer.”

“But what if I can’t deliver?”

William shook his head.  “Brendan wouldn’t have put you up for the job if he didn’t think you’d be able to deliver, either, minskatt,” he said.  “I know you can do it.  We all do.”

***

July 17th, 2020

“You must be Aberdeen Bloom,” Alec Young said with no hint of any emotion in his voice as Aberdeen stood in the doorway of his large, expansive office.  As per COVID-19 protocols, there were very few people in, but apparently Alec was important enough to be in the offices working instead of working from home.  She imagined he had piles and piles of articles to edit for future issues.  She was surprised he even had time for her – granted, it was a quick lunchtime visit, but still.

“Yes sir, that’s me,” she nodded quickly, clutching her purse handles in her hands.  

“Beth tells me you’re going to be writing a feature for us, possibly,” he said.  “About the NHL bubble.”

“That’s the plan, sir, yes.”

He eyed her.  “Sit.  And close the door behind you.”

Aberdeen did as she was told, sitting in the plush chair more than six feet away from his desk – his office was that big.  She settled in but he made her wait as he typed away furiously into his laptop before he finally stopped and turned towards her.  “She told you the length?”

“Yes.  5,000-10,000 words.”

“And what we’re looking for?”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows slightly.  “I…I assume about life in the bubble.  Playing professional sports during a pandemic,” she said.

That was when he smiled.  “No Miss Bloom.  We’re looking for…more.”

“More?”

He clasped his hands together on his desk.  “We know what hockey players are like, Miss Bloom.  You’ve been working for the team for about a year now, right?  I’m sure you’ve seen the shenanigans they get up to.”

“Shenanigans?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.  The booze, the drugs, the women.  They’re professional athletes,” he said.  Aberdeen thought back to a hotel visit in Calgary where she found Mitch Marner and Jake Muzzin playing mini-sticks in the hotel hallway like they were a peewee team on their first-ever road trip; she also thought back to the snowball fight a bunch of them had in Montreal where they were giggling like schoolgirls while also deliberately aiming for each other’s nuts.  If Alec only knew.  “That’s what you’re covering for us.  The shenanigans.  Sneaking women into the bubble, the fights, the booze – everything.”

“I…” she began to protest, not knowing which words should come out of her mouth first.  “They’re…they’re nothing like that anymore.  They’re just not,” she said.  Alec looked unconvinced.  “These are guys that are bringing their gaming consoles into their rooms at the Royal York.  They’re worried about the wifi being too weak when everyone’s gaming that it’s gonna lag or something.  They’re not sneaking in women—and drugs?  I don’t even know where to—”

“Listen,” Alec said firmly, holding his hand up to get her to stop talking.  “Either you get us the scoop, or you don’t.  If you get it, you have a job here, and the guarantee that your article will be on our cover and be front page on the magazine racks and newsstands.  If you don’t get the scoop, you don’t get the job.  It’s up to you.”

Aberdeen thought back to when Mike Babcock got fired.  She thought back to getting called by Brendan late at night and less than an hour and a half later she was on the MLSE private jet.  She thought back to just before going into the locker room, and what Kyle had said to her.  “You know Aberdeen, Brendan trusts you.”  She thought back to what he said after he thanked her for not leaking the information.  “You could have sold that information to any newspaper or reporter and they would have offered you a job.  But you didn’t.”

She remembered what she told him.  “I would never burn this bridge.  I’d never sell Brendan or the team out like that for personal gain.”

And then, what Kyle followed up with.  “This city is rife with opportunity for people who take advantage of others.  But you’re not like that – at least yet.”

That was before everything.  Before she had sex with William.  Before she carried on a secret relationship with him behind everyone’s back.  Before she started lying to everybody.  Had she changed?  Was she a person, now, who would take advantage of others?  Would she take advantage of the organization that had given her so much for her dream job in writing?  Was she that person?  A person who would lie to get what she wanted?  Fabricate entire stories just to secure a dream job?

The answer, to her, was immediate.

No.

But she looked at Alec.  “I understand,” she said instead.

He smiled.  “Good.”

[inkweaver22-blr]

Welcome to chapter nine! This one was meant to just be another filler with one of my own AU’s, but Tang just had to be introspective and have a moment of character growth. Hope you enjoy!

EDIT: This chapter has been edited to include some new info dropped on the same day I originally posted this! More info in the End Notes!

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Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Nine: Rocks and Roles

Tang knows how to act. That doesn't mean he likes to play every part.

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Tang liked to think of himself as a decent actor, at least back in the original timeline. He had been part of the theater class in high school and telling stories required a bit of a dramatic flair if you wanted to keep your audience entertained. Convincing Pigsy he was a popular food critic hadn’t been too hard back then.

The many cycles he had been through had certainly helped polish his skill into a genuine talent. That one time where he and everyone else had been professional actors playing the roles of themselves from the original timeline as part of a show had especially allowed him to hone himself to a greater degree than before.

Being stuck jumping through time had practically made it a necessity.

It wasn’t that Tang enjoyed what was essentially lying to his family. It was more for their protection. He had almost broken the “No Interference” rule a few times when he hadn’t properly reacted to events that, while shocking or upsetting to his family, were simply part of his routine by now. He couldn’t allow the repetitive nature of the cycles to make him slip up and potentially cause more harm by being confronted by his lack of surprise or fear.

So he acted. He gasped at all the right moments or screamed in fear when in danger. Every laugh, every sigh of exasperation, every freak out over something related to Wukong was perfectly performed so as to not to raise suspicion. So long as the proper reaction occurred in response to the correct effect, everything went smoothly.

It wasn’t too hard or taxing as he never needed to fake his enjoyment of being around his family. Luckily for him, he also didn’t have to act exactly as he had been in the original timeline, or he may have gone insane from the monotony of it.

The cycles where his background was entirely rewritten were blessings in disguise, really. They were new. Fresh experiences for Tang to have and not have to work as hard to realistically react to.

He treated them like a method acting exercise. The new memories as part of Tang’s new backstory was the motivation for the ‘character’ he was playing. He didn’t have to fully adhere to them, but they certainly helped him play the role provided to him for the cycle.

He still disliked playing the villain however.

It happened a few times before already. The most notable had been when Zhu Bajie was in the role of Sun Wukong as MK’s mentor.

Tang shuddered at the memory of that timeline.

Saying that version of him had been unhinged was severely downplaying the many atrocities he had performed on both himself and others. Committing suicide to erase his name from the books of the dead, killing demons to absorb their lifeforce, and cutting open his own chest to manually insert the gem holding that lifeforce into himself for power were simply the tamer actions he had committed.

He supposed that heartbreak, jealousy, and internalized insecurities could drive even the most benign people to madness so long as they properly justified their actions to themselves.

It had been the first time in quite a while that Tang seriously considered intentionally breaking the interference rule and just running off to live in solitude for the entire cycle. Getting “redeemed” had been one of the most difficult things he had tried to pull off.

Tang dodged a swipe from the Monkey King’s staff as he was brought back into the present.

He was the villain once again this cycle. Luckily though, he was much less of a threat to his family this time around.

He was replacing Red Son as the demon child of Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan.

Tang, Son of the Earth.

He wasn’t the only one who was switched around. Pigsy, who went by Bajie, was a human who had become Wukong’s successor. MK was a boar demon who ran the noodle shop. Red Son was a scientist and engineer who frequented the restaurant.

It was almost an opposite reflection of the cycle he had just been musing about.

“You’ll have to do better than that, noodle boy,” Tang taunted as he swung his arms to pull chunks of stone from the ground, his hands and the Earth he controlled both glowing with a golden-yellow light.

He supposed that it made sense for him to have some sort of elemental power if he was this timeline’s Red Son. Earth fit as he had certainly mellowed out over the course of the cycles, becoming more focused and self assured. His original self would have most certainly been associated with air with how flighty he had been.

Tang made sure to keep his full concentration as he attacked Bajie. Earth may be the element of the sturdy, but it had the potential to be much more volatile than fire. It was easy to let loose and cause a catastrophic earthquake. It took precision to control smaller pieces of rock without causing too much collateral damage.

Bajie batted away the earthen projectiles with ease and rushed into an opening Tang had intentionally left. He had to do his best to not rely on the fighting skills he had from previous cycles and use only what his memories knew when playing a villain. Otherwise he’d easily beat the fledgling hero and that certainly would be treated as interfering.

Tang winced as the staff connected with his ribs and sent him flying. He coughed as he pulled himself up, holding his injured side as he glared at the now smirking Bajie.

“How’s that for better!”

“This isn’t over,” Tang cried out dramatically. He activated his powers, this time summoning a whirlwind of sand to teleport away.

Another scene as the villain successfully played out.

----------

Tang sat in his workshop, calculating the specific size of a rune circle he would need.

It seemed that similarly to how Red Son was a genius that incorporated magic into science, this version of Tang was one who incorporated science into magic. Not a big distinction, but important in how the process worked. It still took an impressive amount of knowledge on both subjects to work them together in the end.

Setting his pen down to take a break, Tang looked around as he stretched. He caught his reflection in a nearby piece of metal machinery he had been fiddling with and examined himself once again.

He didn’t look too different from his human self, his face remaining the same. His hair was now a dark brown with yellow highlights and his glasses were much smaller. The biggest difference were the bull horns sticking out of the side of his head.

He didn’t mind them too much, but having to give up any pull over shirt for button downs was a hassle.

Looking at his horns lead the demon scholar to think about his parents in this timeline.

Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan.

Tang frowned as he recalled the less than comforting welcome he had received after returning from his defeat. The disapproving dismissal from his father and scathing taunts from his mother had been demoralizing. It would have hurt more if he hadn't had the years of time jumping behind him.

If this was how Red Son was commonly treated, it was no wonder he worked hard in everything he did just to gain a scrap of approval and praise.

And yet he knew they loved each other. The moments he noticed didn’t happen often, but he could tell that his parents held some affection for him, and he obviously cared for them. He just didn’t understand why they acted so cruelly to one another.

Was it a demon thing? Were they afraid that by showing their love they were showing weakness?

That was certainly possible, but Tang disagreed with the sentiment. He had been through enough cycles to see that love made one stronger. It wasn’t the weakness their enemies thought it was.

Tang was already planning on becoming redeemed in this cycle. It hurt to think his parents would disown him, but what if that didn’t have to happen?

He thought about that one specific cycle and how he had become so twisted. All of it could have been avoided had his past self simply let go of his long held beliefs and went with Bajie.

Now he just had to make two powerful demons do just that.

Tang was an amazing actor.

He also had many years of watching the people around him and knew most of them almost better than they knew themselves.

His current parents were no exception.

He could see the potential for a loving and healthy family, buried just beneath the surface.

It would take some work, but he was sure he could unearth it and polish that potential until it shined.

With renewed energy, Tang pulled out a blank scroll and began planning.

He had a family to save.

----------

Welcome to what I’m calling the Noodle Swap AU! It is named that way because the only change is that the pairs that make up the two most popular noodle ships (SpicyNoodles and FreeNoodles) swap places!

Shout out to @winterpower98 for their amazing Actor AU and Dad Swap AU mentioned in this chapter! Go check them out!

Yes, yes, I know I’ve basically made Tang here Terra from Teen Titans. Most people would give him Air as an element, but 1) we already have an Air user in Princess Iron Fan and 2) Tang has changed quite a bit since the start of this Time Hopping experience, as he states himself in the chapter.

I do genuinely believe there’s a loving family hidden somewhere underneath all the cruelty the DBK crew throw at each other. It’s already been hinted that Red Son will get a redemption arc in the show, but I want one for his parents too.

That’s all for now! See you in the next chapter!

:IMPORTANT EDIT!!!!:

There's been a few paragraphs changed and added to include the new canon lore for Tang in the Dad Swap AU! Go check out @kitkat1003's absolutely ASTOUNDING work, When the Tide Pulls Away and the Earth Sharpens to Steel! It is INCREDIBLE and if it was finished, you'd absolutely know there would be an entire chapter dedicated to it here.

[galladerocksgamer]

Okay so I love the Paranormal Liberation War arc, it does so much fantastic stuff, dang near perfect across the board. But I think it’s pretty widely felt that the pacing got a bit off the rails near the end, we had big reveals and character moments stacking up and half of them barely even felt relevant. And me being the person who just thinks about things in depth and for long periods, I’ve still been dwelling on it for months. And now as the manga has continued, I’m finally seeing how some of the aforementioned War moments could have been better executed in different situations, because honestly this latest arc seems like it would have been tailor-made to address them all. So lemme take a closer look at three different components here: Mirio/Eri, Bakugo, and Hawks.

1. Mirio and Eri

Probably the most random moment from the war’s climax, don’t think anyone was predicting the sudden return of Mirio to battle. I love Mirio, he’s one of my favorite characters, but it was a pretty anticlimactic way to bring him back into the fold. He doesn’t even really bring anything special to the battle, nothing uniquely Mirio. His role is just backing up Best Jeanist against the Nomu, and anyone could have done that. Burnin could’ve arrived sooner, or Manual and Rock Lock could’ve come back after getting the injured heroes to safety. Heck, if you still wanted the Nighteye agency to be involved, then Bubble Girl and Centipeder could’ve been the cavalry to help Jeanist. But instead Mirio returns unexpectedly and none too remarkably.

And on top of that, we’re basically just told “oh by the way Eri has some control of her power now.” Something that the series had been building up toward for awhile just … occurs off-screen with no forewarning. Really feels like a disservice to Eri and her development to not give that intense moment any real spotlight.

It felt extremely weird for me at the time, but I also kinda wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the coming arcs just couldn’t afford to place focus on Eri and Mirio, so their respective developments were tied together to lend an extra surprise to the war’s final bout. But instead this most recent arc has gone the opposite route … through the return of Chisaki.

The man once known as Overhaul, now thoroughly broken and wanting nothing more than to fix his one great regret. With Nagant’s defeat, he winds up back in custody, but having now once again met with Midoriya and made his wish known. So indeed, the opportunity arises for Eri and Mirio to be brought back to the forefront. I don’t doubt that we will indeed have at least a brief glimpse at Eri healing Chisaki’s boss as Midoriya promised, but the potential for that scene could really have been through the roof if it was the impetus for Eri to willingly use her power on a person for the first time.

Imagine Midoriya coming to Eri with that heavy request, of Eri deciding to offer this kindness toward Chisaki of all people, using her power to heal before the man who always told her that she could only destroy. Because really, I don’t think there’d be a question of that, we know the kind of kid Eri is, and she won’t let anyone suffer if there’s any way she could prevent it. Even if Chisaki was the person asking, there might be hesitation and fear, but is there any doubt she’d offer what aid she could in the end? And for Pops to be the first person she helps, to undo the harm carelessly inflicted by Chisaki … well, it’d certainly be poetic.

As for Mirio in this scenario, that could go a couple ways. Route 1: Eri is hesitant to help Chisaki with Pops because she would rather help Mirio get his Quirk back, and we know that her power seems to have a bit of a limit on it via the energy stored in her horn. So what if it did work, but she ran out of juice healing Pops and then made Mirio wait even longer? Well, of course that’s exactly what he’d insist on, he wouldn’t let himself take priority over another person in need of Eri’s help. And he’d take it all in good spirits as always. Or Route 2, if there was concern that Eri’s power could run wild while trying to help Pops, then they could go the complete opposite direction and have Mirio offer to go first, to be the guinea pig for Eri in case of emergency. But of course, he’d have full faith in her all along and coax her through, ensuring her of just how helpful and brave she always is.

So yes, can see how Eri and Mirio’s development could have taken a more satisfying route, and cap us off with some good ole Chisaki angst to boot (though at least we’ve still got a decent serving of that). Now moving on …

2. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight

So Bakugo’s long and arduous journey of personal growth reached a new peak during the battle with Shigaraki, where his body moved without thinking and he underwent his true heroic awakening to protect Midoriya. Such a sacrifice seems like a perfect cap for his development for the War arc … and then a couple chapters later he forces himself right back into action to back up Best Jeanist, and as promised he reveals his over-the-top hero name to his mentor. In this case I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with the reveal, but in light of his preceding big heroic action, it really feels like a hat on a hat.

It’s not like Bakugo’s hero name heralded some major turning point for the battle; Jeanist’s arrival (and subsequently Mirio’s) had already assured that. And like Mirio, there wasn’t any real special reason for Bakugo to rejoin the fight with the Nomu, especially with Iida and Hado on the scene. After getting skewered by Shigaraki, it would have been pretty simple for Bakugo to just spend the rest of the fight bleeding unconscious on the ground, rather than complicating matters by shoving him back into the fray. And ultimately, the moment feels a bit anticlimactic. All the suspense waiting for Bakugo’s hero name, and then it’s revealed at a time where he barely even has the spotlight.

Of course, such a bombastic name as “Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight” doesn’t particularly lend itself to a quiet or emotional scene, so it wouldn’t be thematically fitting to move that revelation to Bakugo’s hospital bed or his somber apology to Midoriya. That said, given his decision to announce the name first to Jeanist, there would at least be precedent for him to have a “Dabi says secrets in a black speech bubble” moment in the hospital in which he talks to Jeanist but leaves the readers in the dark, before coming back to the actual audience reveal later on.

And there must certainly be other opportunities to present the name appropriately. Bakugo is a master of making an explosive entrance, after all. And when Class 1-A finally catches up to Midoriya, if Bakugo really wanted to make a big impact on his friend/rival before getting into the sentimental stuff, then it would be a prime chance to reveal his hero name in grandiose fashion, both to Midoriya and the audience.

Or if his hero name had been Kacchan, then that reveal would have fit right in with his apology to Midoriya, but that’s neither here nor there

This could be one scenario, of course, but it hardly feels like that would’ve been the only option. And compared to the crammed-in reveal in the final fight with the League, it’s easy to say that there could have been plenty of smoother roads to take.  But setting that aside, moving onto the final touch:

3. Hawks

The long-awaited Hawks backstory doesn’t really disappoint. Admittedly, there weren’t really a lot of holes necessary to fill in there; we’d had enough bits and pieces provided before this point to pretty much put together the whole picture of his crummy childhood. But even without any really surprising turns, the flashback is welcome and hits some good emotional beats. But really, the glaring issue in this area is the timing.

We’re presented this backstory at an instance where Hawks is hardly the most relevant character. Shigaraki is undergoing a personal crisis as All For One seizes the reigns of his own body, Endeavor’s dark history has been exposed and the Todoroki family is in turmoil, escapees from Tartarus roam the streets, and Midoriya consults internally with the vestiges of One For All ... and the narrative decides to take a chapter to look at Hawks. Practically nothing from his flashback directly relates to present events, serving only to further emphasize his already well-established devotion to Endeavor and his (misguided) understanding of Twice’s feelings. The timing is just kind of baffling, especially with some other more appropriate places being readily apparent.

For instance, only a dozen chapters later, we’re properly introduced to Lady Nagant. As Hawks’s predecessor within the Hero Commission, the two have a lot in common, and the similarities and differences between the two could set up some interesting comparisons if Hawks’s backstory was saved to follow up Nagant’s. Two idealistic young children, handpicked by the Commission and groomed into assassins, yet whose outlooks in the present day are starkly opposed? Nagant's guilt driving her to turn on the Commission, while Hawks holds few regrets despite the blood on his hands, longing for freedom from the Commission’s grasp? That kind of parallel could really have built a more solid foundation for Hawks’s past to be laid upon.

That could be an effective setup, but there’s another approach I’d actually much rather have seen, one that brings Hawks’s backstory not later, but earlier: during the dramatic confrontation between Hawks and Dabi. The instant that Dabi reveals he knows Hawks’s real name, the story opens itself up perfectly to dive into his past. And the timing would be superb, showing Hawks at his worst as he murders Twice, then turning back the clock to look at the innocent child who just wants to save people. A little boy whose feathers tingle with the need to rescue those in need, superimposed against the man whose same feathers are used to deliver the killing blow to a victim of hero society’s ills. You want angst? Now that’s how you do angst. Placing the backstory there would play up the tragedy of both Hawks and Twice simultaneously: a “hero” raised by the Commission to cut threats to their control short at the root, and a “villain” who could have been a kindred spirit but instead suffers for their would-be friendship.

And that’s not even the icing on the cake. The real matter of interest here comes in Hawks’s view of Endeavor. By the time we get to Hawks’s backstory, all of Japan has already learned of Endeavor’s history from Dabi, and the result of the timing feels a smidge tone-deaf, and fails to realize the full potential resonance of the situation. The flashback to young Hawks as a victim of child abuse, who is rescued (unwittingly) when Endeavor arrests his father, is presented to us as the moment when Hawks realized that heroes are real, not merely a fantasy. We see why he developed such an ideal view of heroes, and why he is so specifically loyal to Endeavor ... so just imagine if all that was presented during his showdown with Dabi. Imagine if all that came before the tragic revelation of Toya Todoroki. The true terrible irony, that Hawks was rescued from his abusive father by someone secretly guilty of the same crimes, that Hawks’s whole epiphany of “real heroism” was founded upon one of the most corrupt enforcers of all.

The end result would be the same, I’m sure. After all, this is certainly the same thought process Hawks was going through all along, and his decision to maintain his faith in Endeavor’s personal growth would presumably remain unchanged. But presenting Hawks’s backstory before Dabi’s would have opened up a lot more room for us as the audience to actually see Hawks’s views be challenged. If there’s one real complaint I’ve got about Hawks’s character, it’s that we don’t really tend to see him questioning himself or his actions; whatever happens, he rolls with it and presses on, no matter how his ideals are brought into question. But this simple matter of timing could go a long ways to remedying that, granting the audience the chance to watch Hawks grapple with his personal image of and approach to heroism, and his relationship with Endeavor, rather than allowing most of that to pass unseen in the wake of the war’s end. Even if he would ultimately come to the same conclusion, at least such a narrative structure would provide a much more satisfying presentation of his struggle up to that point.

So, I’m not great at endings, but that brings us to the conclusion of my rambling though process here. To recap, the more I’ve thought about it, the more obvious it is that the backloaded War arc could be remedied, and the following arc only made that more obvious. Why force Mirio’s return so soon when he could be tied in later with Eri mastering her powers and the desperate pleas of Chisaki? Why shove in Bakugo’s hero name when the boy has already made a tremendous impact on the arc, and will be more open to further focus during the conflict with Deku in the next? And why throw in Hawks’s backstory as a standalone chapter at a time when it’s largely irrelevant, when there was such great potential to emotionally contrast him with the backstory of Nagant or Dabi? These are the kinds of things I think about. Little things, really, and honestly the whole reason they stand out to me is just that the rest of the arc around them is so dang fantastic. So … yes. This is the testament to my love for this manga, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk, byeeeeee

[themoonlitsojourner]

Chapter 2: Need you here ‘cause I’m a mess

Emotions are messy, unruly, and a complete mystery to Raven. But she can't leave her friend to endure this alone. Not once she sees the state Gar's in.

Emptiness. One word, but a whole world of hurt behind it. How can Gar feel nothing and the throb of his bleeding heart at the same time?

‘How.’ It’s the only question on his mind.

How could she? Did the months of teamwork and friendship, of welcoming Tara into their home with every reassurance and smile mean nothing to her?

Gar bites down on his lip and tastes blood.

Didn’t their nights spent stargazing, their shared glances and whispered secrets mean anything to her, when they meant the world to him? Was every shy brush of her hand against his fake? Was every kiss a trick?

He’ll never know. The worst part isn’t the betrayal. It’s the fact that she’s never coming back. She’s never coming home.

A scene flashes through Gar’s mind, the memory that plays over and over every time he closes his eyes.

A katana piercing the bandages wrapped around Tara’s stomach, the vicious twist as Slade yanks the blade from the last wound he will ever give his apprentice. Tara’s shocked expression as she collapses, Garfield’s terrified cry as he cradles his first love in his arms. As he watches her bleed out with every throbbing heartbeat and gasping breath. As Tara dies in his arms.

In just a few hours, she betrayed him and died. He lost her twice that day.

The anger Garfield worked so hard to stoke and feed fizzles out, replaced by the sharp ache of pure loss tearing through his chest like a wild beast, ripping into his heart and lungs until he can’t breathe. Why couldn’t he save her? Why wasn’t he enough?

Tears roll down his cheeks, soaking his fur as his shoulders tremble. He wants to stop, to take control of himself and shut down. Anything to stop the pain.

Anything to stop missing her.

~~~

“He’s been in there all morning.” Richard sets the TV remote down and sends a worried glance at the hallway leading to the team’s living quarters. “Do you think we should…?”

“He doesn’t wanna talk about it.” Victor passes an empty soda bottle from hand to hand, never once looking up. He tried to reach out to Garfield again yesterday. When he returned, his expression told the others exactly how it went.

Raven’s gaze flicks to Koriand’r as the redhead sighs loudly and props her chin on her hands. “There is truly nothing we can do to help?” She sends Richard a pleading look, undoubtedly wanting to make Garfield another present. It’s a sweet thought, but ultimately futile. Just like everything else they’ve tried.

“Not if he won’t let us,” Victor replies. He finally lifts his head, turning to catch Raven’s eyes. “You tried yet?”

“I’ve been giving him his space.” He wouldn’t want to see me. Not if he turned away Richard and Kori. Not if he won’t even talk to Victor.

“It has been two days since he has emerged from his room,” Kori points out, voice and thoughts drenched in sorrow. She’s right to be worried.

“I’ll try.” Raven stands. “But I don’t think it will help.”

“Will it hurt?” Victor says quietly, gaze returning to his soda bottle.

The question is rhetorical, of course. Nothing could hurt Garfield any worse than what’s already happened.

With each step toward his room, the pain in Raven’s head grows. She closes her eyes and stops to lean on the wall, bracing herself against the waves of guilt, regret, anger, sorrow. And grief. So much grief, in every shade and variation she’s ever sensed, present all at once in a single boy.

Taking a deep breath, Raven centers herself. She closes the distance to Gar’s room and knocks on the door. No answer. Not even a rustle of movement. If it weren’t for the hurricane of emotion flooding from him, she might think the room was empty.

“Garfield,” she says to the closed door. “It’s Raven.”

Nothing changes. Not with the door and not in his mind.

She didn’t come before because he needed time to process and mourn. But now that she’s here… Garfield’s in too much anguish for her to just turn around and leave. He shouldn’t be alone with this.

“I’m coming in.” Raven’s hand rests on the doorknob for a few seconds, giving him a chance to protest. Silence. She opens the door and steps inside, shutting it quietly behind her.

The room is dim. The only trace of light seeps through the half-shuttered window, filtering between storm clouds and raindrops to drench the room in an even gray. Garfield lies on his side in bed, the covers tangled beneath him. He stares out at the downpour, expression distant and blank. Tired. Empty.

Raven closes her eyes again, just for a moment. Her head pounds, her chest tight and aching with the agony pouring from him like the rain from the sky. She forces herself to open her eyes.

“I don’t wanna get out of bed.” Garfield’s voice breaks the silence, raspy and flat. “I don’t wanna do anything.” His dull eyes trace a raindrop trickling down the glass. “That’s never happened to me before,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry.” Raven’s throat feels thick, like a knot has tied the middle shut, and breathing past it is difficult. Her thoughts slow and blur, a numbness settling upon her. This… this is how Garfield feels. The sensations that plague her mimic the heaviness of grief upon his chest, the darkness of apathy draining the color from his being. This is the extent of his pain.

If Raven had the words to comfort him, she’d give them freely. If she knew how to help, she would stop at nothing. But that is an ability her mentor Azar never taught her. A skill she’s never learned, despite the years spent surrounded by caring, whole people who do know how to soothe and comfort. It’s yet another area where she has failed them.

Dark streaks trail the fur on Gar’s face, marking the path of tears. Another falls as Raven watches.

“Why can’t I just hate her?” he chokes. “Why do I have to miss her?”

“Because you care, despite what she did. Because that’s who you are.” It’s the truth. She knows how to give him that, at least.

Garfield inhales shakily. “Yeah. And it’s how I got hurt.”

Without that openness and trust, you wouldn’t be Garfield. But even if Raven argues, she won’t be able to make him believe. Not when he’s still so deeply wounded.

She searches for something to say as Gar falls silent again. He crosses his arms and pulls his knees to his chest, curling into a fetal position. “There’s so much I never got to tell her,” he whispers to himself.

Watching him feels like an intrusion and there’s nothing she can do to help. Raven turns to leave and give him his privacy, but his voice stops her.

“Please.”

When she glances back, Garfield is looking at her for the first time since she stepped into the room. His emerald green eyes, normally so full of joy and mirth, are dark and pained. They reflect the ache throbbing inside him, the one pulsing in Raven’s head.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers. “I don’t want to be alone.”

His words hit Raven like a shot to the chest.

After Tara left, in more ways than one, after what she did to him… He’s afraid to be left alone again. And he’s asking for Raven, of all people, to stay.

The pressure in her head builds until she wants to scream. “Let me get you something to eat.” She needs an escape.

Garfield’s shoulders drop. His head falls back to the pillow, eyes returning to the gray sky. “Sure.”

Just like that, any emotion in his voice disappears as he slips back under the numbness. Another dagger pushed into Raven’s heart. She shuts the door behind her with shaking hands, working to calm her breathing. His pain, his grief… It’s too much.

She walks to the kitchen without thought. Kori looks up hopefully as soon as she enters, Richard and Victor following suit.

“How is he?” Richard asks.

“Not good.” Raven wrenches the fridge open, searching for something Garfield would never turn down, not even in his current state. “He’s depressed.”

The word lies sour and dark on her tongue, the reality of it sending dread rolling over her. Sunny, ridiculously optimistic Garfield, depressed. Beast Boy, the light of the team, caught in the dark of his own mind.

Her fist slams down on the kitchen counter with a crack. “Curse you, Tara,” Raven hisses.

Sharp pain travels up her nerves, the sensation delayed by her anger. Feeling her friend’s wide eyes on her, Raven snatches a container of last night’s garlic tofu and rice out of the fridge and marches from the room.

No one will ever put Garfield through this again. Not on her watch. If she’s the one he’s reaching out to, then Raven will do whatever it takes to make him whole. To bring back the smile to her friend’s face and the light to his eyes. If it means hours of extra meditation afterwards to maintain her control, then so be it. It’s more than a fair price.

“I brought garlic stir-fry.” Raven sets the container on his bookshelf, next to a picture frame turned face down. Her gaze lingers there. It isn’t hard to guess who’s in the photo.

“You came back.” Gar glances at her, then away when she faces him. “I thought that was just your excuse to get away from the mess in my head.” He makes a finger gun and taps it against his temple. “Not that I blame you.”

A shudder runs down Raven’s spine. Her mouth goes dry. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m just joking.” His voice is small and quiet.

The dark part of Raven is angry that Tara will never see what she did to him, the shell she reduced him to. Gar cares more than anyone else can ever hope to, and Tara used that. Troubled or not, a victim of manipulation or not, nothing can ever change that truth.

Raven pushes the darkness back and locks it away in a far corner of her mind. Tara is not her concern now. Garfield is.

“How can I help?”

Gar blinks. “You can’t. Not unless you can take away the pain, like when I get beat up on a mission.” He laughs once, a bitter huff.

Raven steps forward. “I can’t.” She sits next to him on the bed. “But I can share it.”

Garfield’s eyes widen and he jerks to sitting, showing the first bit of life she’s seen in two days. “Raven, no.” His ears droop, his brow furrowing. “That’ll hurt you.”

“If you can handle it, then so can I.” The situation calls for comfort she doesn’t know how to give. But her friends do. So she mimics the way she’s seen Victor reassure Kori and cups Gar’s cheek, fingertips finding still damp fur. She lets her concern show, her lips falling into a frown. “And I’m more worried about you, Gar.”

His eyes glimmer. Just a spark, for just a second. “You called me Gar.” Slowly, he shakes his head, gaze still fixed on Raven. “You never use nicknames.”

Despite her teammates’ best efforts to the contrary, Raven always uses their proper first names. It makes it easier to pretend she isn’t as emotionally involved, as attached to them as she knows she is. It’s silly, honestly. She uses the nicknames in her head anyway.

“Yes,” Raven confesses. “I did.”

“I knew you thought it was cool,” Gar mumbles, curling up on his side again. But this time, he lays his head in Raven’s lap.

She freezes for a moment, scrambling to comprehend this new turn of events. Her hand ends up in his hair, so she tentatively smooths it, careful to avoid the knots. She’s never been comfortable with touch. It’s a strange and unfamiliar sensation to her, having experienced it only rarely on Azarath. But she tries to set that aside now.

“Promise you won’t leave.” Garfield’s vulnerable like she’s never seen him. So small and afraid compared to who he usually is. Or maybe he’s always hidden it well, even from her. “I just… I need…”

“I need you here.” His thoughts say what he can’t. “I need you.”

No one has ever needed Raven before. All her life, she has brought this world only darkness and the promise of death and destruction at the hand of her father. But somehow, Gar sees something different. That ability to find the best in people, regardless of who they are… it’s his greatest quality.

“I promise,” Raven answers. “I won’t leave.”

Closing her eyes, she bows her head and lowers the walls around her mind.

Emotions seep in, flowing from the broken boy with his head in her lap. Forceful, potent feelings, far stronger than any she’s ever experienced through her empathy before. They whip through her mind in blinding colors, mingling with and amplifying each other, complex and interconnected. When she lets herself appreciate them, they’re almost beautiful, despite the monumental effort it takes to keep them from overwhelming her.

Raven breathes carefully and slowly, the tightness in her chest returning threefold. Inhale… Exhale… The sound is her point of focus as she works to channel the pain from Gar and release it into the void her powers come from, allowing herself to be a conduit.

A hand reaches up to touch her cheek, the contact pulling her mind back to this world. Gentle fingers wipe away a single tear that managed to escape her control. “Rae…”

Raven opens her eyes to see Garfield watching her with concern. Just two days ago, he endured tragedy that no one should ever have to experience, trauma that would break most anyone. Yet he’s concerned for her.

“Get some sleep.” Raven brushes Gar’s hair from his face and he obediently closes his eyes, too exhausted to fight. She feels his tight muscles ease as she pulls the brunt of his emotions into herself, taking the edge off his pain.

The technique is beyond dangerous and it hurts. But if she can offer Gar any comfort, she won’t withhold it. No matter the ferocity of the storm within her.

As Garfield’s breathing deepens and he drifts into slumber for what she suspects is the first time since Tara died, Raven repeats her promise.

“I won’t leave you.”

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 3)

(Previous fic in series: Slow dancing in the Darkness)

(Next fic in series: The Sound of the Sword)

[catxsnow]

MY MISTAKES J.C.

Request: Could I request a oneshot for John Constantine with a protege/child figure where they get hurt during one of the many shenanigans they've gotten up to? Reader is in their middle to late teens. Either gender neutral or female reade. Please and thank you! P.s I love ur writings.

Warning: canon-violence, swears

A/N: Did - Did I just post a fic in the middle of the day?? Yes. Yes I did. You know why? Because I’m posting a SECOND one tonight to make up for last night :) 

Alright look, I’m not gonna start writing for Constantine but this was cute so I couldn’t say no. 

Word Count: 2k

John Constantine was insane.

You had been saying it since the start of your adventures with him and the more that you were with him, the more you kept saying it. He was a crazy old fool who kept putting himself in situations what always came back to bite him in the ass.

When Zatanna dropped you off at his front door, he had no desire to take care of you. What the hell would he want with some saucy teen that would only get in his way and stop him from doing what he enjoyed most - liquor and sex. Unfortunately, he couldn't exactly say no to Zatanna, and when he saw just how powerful you were, he didn't have much of a choice.

You were young, and if that power within you wasn't controlled early, god knows what would happen. Constantine had fucked up a lot in his life, but maybe helping you was something that would make up for some of it.

So, he taught you everything that he knew - at least the not so dark aspects of it. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the rest of your life with tainted magic that would haunt you forever. Life with you as his side wasn't all bad. He had someone to watch his back, keep him company, even boost his mood when he was down.

John faced a lot of hardships with you. A lot of the time he had no idea what the hell do to with you - comfort you, give you advice  - he wasn't good at any of that. He had to help you get through your first heartbreak, the doubt within yourself, hell he even struggled with looking you in the eyes and telling you everything was going to be okay.

He lied a lot.

You liked to consider John as more than just a mentor to you - he was your best friend. Even though there was a considerable age gap between the two of you, you were on the same level of humor and wit. A lot of the time you felt as if you were meant to be at his side. Zatanna finding you was pure accident, but being under John's protection almost seemed too good to be true.

Sure, he was fucked up in almost every way possible. He pissed everybody off, drank too much, his past was horrifying. Somehow, none of it scared you off, and in some ways, you made John a better person. To be responsible for just a kid - a 'I'm only a year and a half away from being an adult go fuck yourself' - made him get his act together.

Between making fun of his clothes, the way he talked, even his rudimentary way of living, the bond you formed was unbreakable. You would never admit it, but you looked to him as a parental figure. A fucked up parent who didn't ask to be or know what he was doing, but a parent nonetheless.

Your little 'missions' would usually leave some scrapes and bruises - most times blood of whatever victim you were killing off. For the most part, the most severe pain you had to put up with was John's hangover's. He had a lot of those. After being in this line of work for only a few years, you couldn't blame him.

Then there was the time that it was more than just a cut that could be magically healed. It was supposed to be an easy exorcism. You and John had done dozens of those which meant you went in there confident. Your guard was down and you weren't prepared for things to go sideways.

Things went bad, really bad.

John was left to make the tough call of saving the little girl that had been possessed, or saving you. He couldn't do both, he wished he could do both. However, he knew if he had saved you and not the innocent kid, you'd rip his head off. So, he had to bite the bullet and watch as you fell to the ground screaming and he saved the girl.

Sitting in this hospital with you unconscious on the bed, wires hooked up to you that weren't really doing anything against the magic coursing through you, he wished he made the other choice. Throughout all his years he had sacrificed lives to save his own skin, why did he start now with saving you?

"Shoulda never let Z to convince me to take you," John scoffed to himself. He wasn't strong enough to heal you, not by himself. His energy was already drained from taking care of the demon from earlier, he wasn't sure if he could do any magic at that point. "Can't tell if it was me or you that was the dumb one, huh?"

He felt like a fool talking to you. Obviously you couldn't hear a word he was saying, but part of him was just hoping you did. Maybe it brought him comfort, maybe he was just an old coot who didn't know how to accept this worry running through him. Either way, grabbing onto your cold hand sent chills up his spine.

"I'm sorry," John's eyes sealed shut. His fists gripped the edge of your bed as he tried to keep himself level headed. The demon that did this to you faced a fate worth than death for what it did. "I shouldn't have dragged you along, you deserve a better life. Not one with me leading you. I've made a fuck ton o' mistakes and I guess now you're one of 'em."

When his eyes peeled back open, a few stray tears slipped down his cheeks. John had faced a lot of evil in his life, he was so used to death and destruction that it no longer fazed him. Guess you made a little weak spot in his heart. For the first time in a long time, John felt grief for someone who wasn't even dead yet. He was scared.

"Never thought I'd see the day that John Constantine cries over someone." John looked up in the reflection of the window. He hastily wiped away his wet cheeks and scrambled up to his feet to see his visitor. Zatanna looked between him and you. "How are they?" Concern filled her voice.

"Needs help," John stared down at you. Zatanna stood on the opposite side of the bed. She placed her hand over yours, the unfamiliar lack of power caught her off guard. "Your help, I'm too drained to do any magic, at least by myself. I can't let them suffer like this, not for my mistakes."

"I know, John," Zatanna assured. Constantine wasn't sure how she knew that the two of you had gotten in trouble or exactly which hospital you were in. At that moment, he didn't care. He was more happy to see her than he ever had in his entire life. Zatanna could save you, if there was anyone out there that could, it was her.

"Let's get to work."

><

"I'm fine John, would you fuck off?"

John never thought he'd see the day where he was happy to hear you lip him off. In all your time together the second that you retorted any snide comment towards him, he would scowl. Now, he couldn't hold back a smile. He had been worried about you, more worried than he was for anyone.

Zatanna was the one to really save you. She had overworked herself to bring you back to the land of the living. It was worth it, she saw a lot of greatness within you. You rubbed off on John, he was becoming a different man than she knew a lot of her life. He was better with you at his side. Zatanna feared what he would become if he lost you - especially when it was his fault.

When you finally made it back home, John hovered over you like a mother bear. He didn't let you leave the house and he certainly didn't allow you to join him for any missions until you were 100% again. It was beyond frustrating for you, but you had to admit you were glad to see that someone cared about you this much.

You were bed ridden for a few days. Too weak to get up unless necessary but strong enough to get yourself out of the damned hospital. John became your 'bitch boy' for those days and you made sure to take well good advantage of it. By the time that you were up and walking, you had gotten annoyed of his hovering.

"'scuse me for being worried," John rolled his eyes. "Don't happen to often you know, you should be considered lucky."

"Lucky?" You scoffed. You hadn't tested your magic yet, your whole body still felt weak and you weren't about to put yourself back into a comma just to see if you could light John's cigarette with the snap of your fingers. "Anything involving you is far from lucky. I should be considered dead is what I should be."

He pulled a smoke out of his pocket, he forgot how peaceful it was without your comebacks. You narrowed your eyes as he lit it up and took a drag. Constantine knew that you hated when he smoked inside and yet he continuously did it anyways.

So, to test out how strong you were getting, you tried to disintegrate his cigarette. Your eyes narrowed with concentration and somehow, it had worked. John cried out as his cigarette suddenly burst into flames and fell to dust on the floor. You felt fatigued by the small spell, but at least you were getting back to normal.

Constantine glared at you. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out another one. Without breaking eye contact, he lit it up and took another breath of the nicotine.

"Twat," you muttered. The petty side of him was something that would never go away - no matter how close to death either of you were. It was who he was. John missed seeing your smiling face in the few days that you were out. He never realized the comfort that it brought him.

Without another word, you sluggishly walked back to your bedroom. You needed rest, as much as you tried to deny it. Zatanna had done a good job of fixing you up but you still had a long way to go. It was going to take time, but you knew damn well that John was going to be at your side through it all -whether you wanted him to be or not.

"Berk!" Constantine yelled after you. A smile toyed at his lips. As much as you did fight and bicker with him, he couldn't imagine what his life would be like without you in it now. Never in his life did he imagine he'd be some sort of father figure, with you... he enjoyed it. He was proud of you.

The thought of losing you to some stupid mistake that he made nearly destroyed him. He took you in to make his wrongs right and he would have lost all of that alongside with you. But, it was more than that. Constantine cared for you, losing you meant he would be losing a piece of himself.

There was already so much of him tainted by the evil of the world, he couldn't bare the thought of losing the little good part of his soul. As much as he hated to admit it, John needed you far more than you ever needed him.