#Which took away a lot of his identity and left him disoriented

[twilight-deviant]

[Echo 1x05 / Daredevil: Born Again 1x01]

[kohanayaki]

.:Time And Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 8

You come across an old photo book full of untouched memories and decide to go through it with Harry, though there are some things you decide he doesn't need to know and some things you'd rather forget. (Takes place mostly through Marauders era flashbacks)

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2   CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

Ch 8 .:Snapshots, Secrets, and Sentimentality:.

“Hey, Harry?” you called out into the living room where said boy was reclined on one of the large charcoal armchairs, “I found something you might want to see.”

His eyes widened behind the round frames of his glasses as you carried over a large, leather bound book that was thick with laminated pages. You sat across from him on the couch, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you.

“We still have a few more hours before the others arrive for the meeting,” you said, “and I don't know when the next time we'll be able to talk like this will be.”

“Wait,” he said before you could open the book, “you aren't staying?”

“I can't,” you smiled at him sadly. A statement that was true for a multitude of reasons you'd rather not get into with your godson. “I wanted to show this to you before I left, though.”

With a wave of your hand the book's pages gently flipped open, revealing a number of old magical photographs. The page you had turned to had a picture of James, and you could see Harry's eyes lock onto it. His father was beaming at the camera, holding up the Quidditch cup as two of his Gryffindor teammates held him up on their shoulders.

“Now you see why everyone always tells you how much you look like him,” you chuckled, “that's him in his fifth year, same as you now.”

Harry stared in wonder at the photo. He really did look like his dad. James was slightly taller, lankier, but he had the same disheveled waves of dark brown hair and boyish grin as Harry. Their faces were nearly identical; except for the eyes, of course.

The photo right next to that one was you wearing a Seeker's crest. You were posed, standing with the rest of your team with a wide smile on your face. Harry's brow furrowed as he spotted an unknown yet somehow familiar boy next to you with curly black hair and light eyes.

“Who is that?” he asked, “he almost looks like—”

“Sirius?” you finished. Harry nodded. “That would make sense,” you said, “that's Regulus, his younger brother.”

“I. . . didn't know he had one,” Harry said in wonder.

“Well, you know he doesn't talk about his family often.”

“Right. . .” Harry trailed off for a moment, “but you knew him? His brother?”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a tug at your heart, “We were friends, for a while.” Your eyes subconsciously looked up towards his room which now stood empty. “He, um. . . he died, some time ago.”

“Oh,” Harry said, not knowing what to say, “I'm sorry. . .”

You gave him a small smile in thanks, trying to shrug off the grim feeling the memories brought up as you turned the page of the book to the next.

This photograph was one that was moving— you and James in your Quidditch captain's uniforms. He was reaching over, ruffling your hair while you were ducking to avoid him, pushing his face away and turning his glasses askew despite the grin on your face.

“We both became team captains in year six,” you said, smiling fondly at the picture, “we'd squared off as Seekers the year prior, so it was only natural. You were already playing Seeker your first year, weren't you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said bashfully, “although my first time catching the snitch was bit rough to say the least.” You laughed at that, recalling the time he told you the story of how he had caught the snitch with his mouth his first match.

“You take after your father, for sure,” you said, “he was always a creative flier; came up with all sorts of purposefully confusing strategies as captain. By the time the other team figured out what he was doing, he'd have already caught the snitch and the match would be set.”

Harry felt pride fill his chest at your words, glad he was taking on his father's good qualities.

“So you were a Seeker your fifth year and played until you graduated,” he recalled, “but I thought you said you played Chaser before?”

“Well, sort of?” you admitted, “Not officially. My introduction to the game was unconventional, to say the least. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James and Sirius huddled with the rest of the Gryffindor team on the Quidditch pitch, gearing up for the match. The energy around them was electric, the stands packed with students and faculty from every house.

“Remember, keep to the left,” Halls, their team captain, said sternly, “and take advantage of Parkinson's blind spot. If Rollins and the rest of the Chasers start scoring above 40 before halftime, we'll go in for the Pincer.”

Sirius nodded, determined to win this match. It was the first one of the season, so a lot was riding on this. However, his attention was diverted as the crowd's cheers suddenly grew louder. The Slytherin team had arrived on the field, marching towards them. Something Sirius didn't expect to see, however, was you, dressed in Chaser's robes next to his brother.

“What are they doing here?” Sirius scoffed as he spotted you, “they're not even on the team!”

“Rollins took a spill last practice,” Vanity said as she stepped forward. The Slytherin captain had a wicked grin on her face, “(L/n)'s a last minute replacement. Don't bother trying to argue, I've already cleared it with Madame Hooch.”

“Convenient of you to tell us ahead of time,” Halls' eyes narrowed.

“Is there a part of 'last minute' that escapes your understanding?” Vanity rolled her eyes.

“Well, no matter,” Halls said, “you've lost your best Chaser, we don't have anything to worry about.”

“That classic Gryffindor confidence,” Vanity smirked, “we'll see about that. I don't choose just anyone to fill in.”

Halls scoffed as Vanity turned on her heels, not bothering to look back.

“Seems you've found yourself another game to lose, (L/n),” James smirked at you.

“Have I?” you arched a brow, “what's our score now? 10-9?”

“10-10 since I got you with that scalene water in the Prefect's bathroom,” James reminded you, “how was being half fish for a day?”

“Marvelous, felt just like you,” you quipped.

“Settle down, everyone,” Madame Hooch said, stepping out onto the field, “Potter, (L/n), I know you two have taken to pranks on each other in class, but I don't want to see a lick of that up in the air, understood?”

“Perfectly,” you said, a smirk sneaking onto your face as you mounted your broom. 

“Wouldn't dream of it, professor,” James said with sarcastic flair.

Sirius eyed you cautiously. Gryffindor had flying class with Hufflepuff, so they'd never actually seen you fly before, but there was no doubt that if Vanity approved of you, you had to pose some kind of threat.

“Take your marks,” Hooch said, and you rose off the ground in unison, staring each other down. “Let the match begin!” With a strong, well placed kick, the Quidditch case was thrown open to release the bludgers and the snitch, and as she threw the quaffle up in the air you lunged forward into a dive. You were just about to grab the ball when a blur of red and gold nearly knocked you off your broom.

“Potter has the Quaffle!” Kingston commentated from the box, “he passes to Longbottom, who evades Catchlove and Regulus Black. Longbottom scores! The first ten points go to Gryffindor!”

The patrons in the red and gold stands went wild, the roar deafening in your ears. This was definitely different from flying class. You had to get it together.

The hair on the back of your neck suddenly stood straight up when something whizzed right past your head as you barely moved to dodge it. Sirius gave you a passive shrug from the other side of the field, a beater's bat resting on his shoulder.

“Tosser,” you grumbled under your breath. You had half a mind to throw him right through the left-field hoops without his broom, but dealing with the bludgers wasn't your job; you just had to evade and score. You wouldn't let your team down.

Your eyes searched the skies for the quaffle again, and found it as you spotted a Gryffindor snatch it out of Catchlove's hands. You built up momentum, lowering your body to your broom handle as you picked up speed, swiping the ball from the red Chaser's hands before his eyes could register. You flew under him before their team could rearrange formation and spun around quickly, swatting the quaffle towards the lower right goal with the tail end of your broom. Their Keeper dove to block it, but was one second too late. The ball flew through the hoop and straight into Regulus' hands, who looped back around and threw it through the top right, leaving the Gryffindor Keeper too disoriented and too low in the corner of the goal posts to do anything about it.

“(L/n) outmaneuvers Johnson and scores!” you heard the commentary box boom, “Regulus Black follows up with another goal, we are 20 Slytherin to 10 Gryffindor, what a quick turnaround to start off the match!”

You huffed, impressed that Regulus was able to make the most of your shot. You knew he was Sirius' brother, but that was about it. He was a year younger than you, so you didn't have any classes together and never really talked to him before.

“Nice shot,” you said, flying next to him.

“Same to you,” he said with the slightest upwards quirk of his lips.

“Oi, keep it up you two!” Vanity shouted, hovering over you before dodging the bludger that flew her way, “Black, keep point on Johnson, he's off his game today. (L/n) I want you on intercept and watch for Potter.”

“Gladly,” you smirked, flying off towards the other side of the field. You were starting to feel more comfortable in the air, like you were when you were just flying by yourself; the sounds of the crowd disappeared over the wind rushing in your ears, and you were able to concentrate on your main objective:

Kicking James Potter's arse.

And that you did. The all too confident smirk that seemed to be permanently plastered to his face disappeared when he suddenly felt the weight of the quaffle leave his hands. A victorious smile graced your lips at his dumbfound expression as you threw the ball long to Regulus, who caught it with ease, swatting Johnson away like a fly before scoring another goal.

“(L/n) passes to Black who scores another ten points for Slytherin!” Kingston announced, “it looks like the two rookie players are really hitting their stride now. Choosing (L/n) as a last second fill in is really paying off!”

Sirius' eyes narrowed, grunting in frustration as he hit another bludger your way. Regulus' head turned at the sound of the crack of the bat and signaled over to one of your Beaters, who tossed the bat his way just in time for the Slytherin to send the ball flying back towards his brother. Sirius cursed under his breath, rolling to the right and spinning out of control for a moment before reorienting himself.

“Hooch, what gives!” he shouted, “penalize them!”

“Fair play under protection,” Hooch denied him, “you've been taking headshots, Black. Be grateful I'm not docking you.”

Sirius grumbled a few choice words under his breath before flying back into the fray.

“Thanks for that!” you called over to Regulus.

“Don't mention it,” the boy said, his expression still fairly neutral save for the slight smirk on his face. How the hell was he so calm during this game anyways?

You continued to work with Regulus throughout the match; you'd found a system that worked, and your captain told you to roll with it. Pass after pass you intercepted and scored, mainly targeting Potter not just because Vanity had told you to, but because it brought you a considerable amount of personal enjoyment.

That's when you saw it— a tiny, nearly imperceptible flash of gold that whizzed by your peripheral vision. Neither of the Seekers had caught sight of it yet, but you watched as it zoomed low towards the ground, hovering just beneath one of the crowd stands.

“Oi, Talkalot!” you shouted over the crowd at your Seeker, “Dive low at Hippogriff, now!”

You'd only had  a few hours to look over the strategies that Vanity laid out for you, but you knew the Slytherin team had come up with code words for each quadrant of the Quiditch pitch so you could alert your Seeker if you saw the snitch without the other team knowing where it was. You hoped to Merlin you'd gotten the code right, and you exhaled in relief as Talkalot zoomed past you, taking a sharp dive straight down.

“Nice eye, (L/n)!” she shouted over her shoulder, her voice trailing off as she went after the snitch at top speed.

Sirius' eyes widened as he saw the sporadic move from your Seeker. That could only mean one thing.

“Halls, they've got eyes on the snitch!” he shouted to his team captain who cursed under his breath, taking off in Talkalot's direction, but her lead was too great.

“She's got it!” Kingston hollered into the mic, “Lucinda Talkalot has caught the golden snitch, scoring 150 points for Slytherin! Our score comes out 50 Gryffindor to 230 Slytherin, and this match is over!”

“Slytherin wins!” Madame Hooch proclaimed from her broom.

Everyone in the emerald stands cheered so loudly you thought their tents would topple. You couldn't believe the amount of adrenaline coursing through your body in that moment. It was a complete sensory overload as you were bombarded by the Slytherin team, mostly comprised of people you hardly even knew, and thrown on top of their shoulders and they cheered for you.

“What a game, (L/n)! I never knew you could play!”

“Where the hell have you been all this time, eh?”

“You better try out next year or you're dead!”

You laughed at the last comment from Vanity, people buzzing around you as soon as you were set down. You broke away from the congratulatory comments and pats on the back, however, as you spotted James across the field. You couldn't help but rub this in his face a little.  

“Why so blue, Potter?” you grinned as you bounded over to him, “what was that about me 'finding another game to lose'?”

For once, James had no clever comeback, and his face flushed as you laughed at his expression.

“I do believe that leaves us 11-10,” you said cheekily, doing an overly exaggerated bow before tossing your broom from your left hand to your right and stalking off.

“Not for long,” James said to himself once you were out of earshot, equal parts impressed and supremely annoyed. It was time for him to pay another visit to Zonko's. He'd show you blue all right. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“After that year I tried out for a permanent position as Seeker,” you said, “your father and I concluded our prank war, Sirius and I put aside our differences, Lupin vouched for my involvement with the map, and the rest is history.”

“I seriously can't believe you became such close friends only two years later,” Harry said, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“Neither could we,” you said, “it was just a series of chance encounters that we learned we were more similar than we thought. I really do believe that friendship can come from anywhere, Harry. Even more so when you least expect it. So if there's anyone around you that you think you might never get along with, I'd say it's worth it to give them a chance.”

Harry paused at your words. There were more than a few people who came to mind.

You turned to the next page, which was a spread of you and the rest of the Marauders in more casual settings. One could clearly tell you had taken them of each other, if the shaky camera movement and blurry rendering were anything to go off of.

You smiled to yourself as you saw a photo of you and Remus asleep in the Hogwarts library, lightly leaning against each other with your eyes peacefully closed. Suddenly the camera flash jolted through the photograph, and you two bolted upright. You glared at the person taking the photo and reached out to smack the camera away, the picture going blurry for a moment before resetting. Harry laughed at the brief repeating scene, as did you.

“Your father took this one,” you huffed, “because of course he did.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1977  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You rested your head in your palm as you transcribed a few spells into your notebook. The lantern in front of you gave you just enough light to read the elaborate Latin, as the sun had long since set. Your eyelids felt annoyingly heavy, attempting to close on their own as you fought against them to stay awake.

“How are you holding up?” Remus asked with a slight grin, catching you jump awake at his remark.

You and Remus had gotten permission from Madame Pince to use the library after hours to study; after all, you two were outstanding students. If James and Sirius had made the request, they wouldn't have gotten so positive a reaction.

“I've been more awake in my life, but I really need to get this done tonight,” you sighed, “NEWTS start next week and I have to be ready.” You stared up at the boy who was looking at you with obvious concern. “I'm fine, Moony. And I don't want to keep you here, so whenever you want to head off to bed, feel free to.”

“It's no trouble,” he said, “I'll walk you back to your common room, at least. At this rate you'll fall asleep in the middle of the hall for Filch to find you.”

You gave him a light but well-meant glare, groaning as you turned your tired eyes back to the parchment in front of you.

“Why the sudden all-nighters anyways?” Lupin asked, “I thought you'd be plenty prepared.”

“My Charms marks haven't exactly been the best lately,” you admitted, “that's kind of important if I want to become an auror, Remus.”

“Really?” the lycanthrope said, surprised, “but you're always in the know on some spell or another I've never even heard of. You've even made some of your own, right?”

“Yes, but the Ministry wants people who can conjure a corporeal patronus, not someone who made up a spell that makes antlers grow on someone's head to make a very specific joke.”

“Well, I thought it was impressive,” Remus laughed, thinking back to James asking him 'why does my head feel so heavy?' “but I see what you're saying,” Remus continued, “Have you thought about Dumbledore's proposal? Joining the cause might call for some more specialized tasks that would fit you well.”

“Right,” you bit your lip, “I just. . . I don't know. It's a lot to take on. A big part of me is scared, Remus. I'm not like you guys. I can't just fearlessly leap into a battle without any second thoughts. James and Sirius gave their answers so quickly and. . . I couldn't say for sure right away like they could. Honestly, I was terrified, and I still feel guilty because of it.”

“Fear is wisdom in the face of danger, (Y/n),” Remus said, “It's nothing to be ashamed of. No one is forcing you to make this decision right away, nor are they requiring you do it alone. There's a war going on out there, (Y/n). No one would blame you for not diving into it headfirst.”

“Always the quoter of muggle proverbs,” you chuckled lightly, “thank you, Remus. Really.”

A quiet yawn snuck into the back of your throat, and you stretched out of your chair to try to get feeling back into your body.

“Maybe I should turn in soon,” you said, your voice already groggy, “just a few more transcriptions. . .”

Remus stayed by your side as you continued to work diligently, and he found himself smiling at your innate stubbornness. It was something he greatly admired about you; when you decided on something you stuck to it no matter what, sometimes to a fault. You fought to keep your eyes open, even as your head began to slope and your handwriting gradually became slower.

Lupin was beginning to tire himself, which surprised him. He was naturally nocturnal, after all, and usually had no issue staying up to the early hours of the morning. But the quiet scratch of your quill against the parchment, the occasional sound of a page turning, and the smell of your shampoo that wafted with the motion, all lulled him into a sense of ease that was much too easy to doze off to.

Just when he thought he might fall asleep, he almost jumped out of his skin as he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder. He looked to the side to see you sleeping peacefully, your head having slipped from your palm and onto the soft fabric of his sweater. His face flushed a deep red, and he thanked Merlin you were sound asleep. He was caught in between embarrassment and slight panic as he instinctualy wanted to wake you but also ensure you actually got to sleep tonight.

He meant to wake you, he really had, but his mind and body betrayed him, and without even knowing when, his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off into quite possibly the best sleep he'd had in weeks.

The flash of the magical camera was blinding, even through your closed eyelids. White spots danced in your vision as you groaned, shielding your face from the camera.

“MORNING, LOVEBIRDS!”

Remus jolted awake, remembering last night's events in an instant and banging his head on the bookshelf beside him in an attempt to put some distance between you two.

James was stood there, camera in hand and doubled over in laughter.

“Prongs, you better start running before I skin you and turn you into a pair of shoes,” you growled.

“How is it that I always catch you two sleeping together?” James chortled, completely ignoring your statement, “Can't be long till you get it on to the other sense of the phrase.”

And that's when you lunged at him. Too bad he didn't take your advice for a head start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That twat,” you said fondly, a statement that about summed up your and James' friendship.

Harry found himself smiling as you recounted your memories with his father. It made him feel that much more grateful for what he shared with Ron and Hermione.

“Oh, Merlin,” you laughed as you saw the next picture. You, Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily, and James were standing side by side, Slughorn smiling in the middle of all of you. “This was the first and last Slug Club party that we ever attended all together,” you said, “Like I mentioned, Lily and I had always gone, and—”

You caught yourself.

And Severus would pretend to be reluctant tagging along, you finished in your mind. After what happened he stopped attending the parties.

You cleared your throat.

“Ahem, well, we'd always gone together as friends but none of the boys ever went with us,” you said, “It was our last year, and Lily finally convinced James to tag along, because by then they were together and he was contractually obligated to do so. I talked Sirius into coming because Slughorn had been trying to get him to come for years, and I made Remus my plus one. So for the first time ever, we were all at the party.”

“So it was the last party of the year?” Harry asked.

“Um, well, no,” you laughed, “it was the last party we were invited to. Let's just say your godfather thought it would be funny to enchant the ice sculptures to chase Lucius Malfoy around the dance floor. I'll admit, watching that stupid blonde ninny run screaming from a rapidly melting octopus to the tune of a classical string quartet was pretty entertaining, though Slughorn obviously felt otherwise.”

Harry chuckled, clearly seeing the spark of mischief in Sirius' eyes, even through a photo. As Harry's gaze drifted across the page, he noticed an empty space near the corner of the book. A discolored square remained where a photo should have been, the caption reading 'Christmas, 1976.' As he saw the way you ran your fingers lightly across the page, he decided against asking you what used to be there. He instead turned his attention to the next photograph, which was one taken in an all too familiar setting.

“Hold on,” Harry said, pointing to the picture, “that's the Gryffindor common room!”

“Sure is,” you grinned, “that secret passage from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower went from being used purely for pranking purposes to a way for us to actually hang out together at night.”

You stared down at the photograph fondly. You all looked so much older than the first pictures. You and James were lounging on the couch, not bothering to hide the overly full glasses of firewhiskey in your hands. Sirius and Remus were sitting on pillows on the floor, caught in the middle of a fit of laughter before all four of you turned to the camera which flashed. A pang of hurt and anger hit you square in the chest as it did. Peter had been the one taking the photo.

“I remember this day,” you said, an expression Harry couldn't quite figure out on your face, “it was the night before graduation. Our last night at Hogwarts. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1978   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A giggle rose in your throat as you took yet another drink of firewhiskey with James and Sirius, something that Remus insisted you were going to regret come morning.

“Oh, don't be suck a stickler, Moony,” Sirius guffawed, “tonight's the night! This time tomorrow we'll be packing up camp and heading out into the great unknown.” He made an expansive gesture with his hand that was cut off promptly by James smacking him upside the head.

“I'll brew a pepperup potion tomorrow if anyone really needs it,” you assured Remus.

“Not really the point, (Y/n),” he rolled his eyes.

As you leaned back to look at the four of them, all grinning like idiots and laughing, you felt a strange sense of sadness come over you. This was your last night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the place you had spent most of your life and where you had met the people you could no longer imagine that life without. As the reality of that fact sunk in, you grew quiet.

“Everything's going to be different after tomorrow, isn't it?” you said.

The boys looked surprised at your sudden and intense declaration, and James was the first to break the tension you'd created.

“Aww, Fangs is getting all sentimental,” he grinned, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“I will toss you out this window, Prongs.”

He laughed, poking you in the cheek, his smile only widening as you huffed in annoyance.

“It won't be different,” he promised, more serious but with that smile ever present on his face, “we'll still be friends. We'll still be a pack. And besides, after we graduate we could go. . . well, anywhere together! Just think, the five greatest heroes Hogwarts has ever seen, going on top secret missions from Dumbledore, saving the world!”

“It'll be dangerous, James,” you said, “there's a war going on, remember?”

“What war could ever break us up, huh?” he said reassuringly. You felt your heart swell at the remark. “And besides, you're gonna have to see me next year for the wedding anyways! Lily wanted it sometime in Spring.”

“. . .”

“WEDDING?!” you, Sirius, Remus, and Peter screeched, practically in unison as if it had been planned and rehearsed. Chaos erupted in the room, and you couldn't care less if you woke everyone in Gryffindor tower.

“You sly git, when were you gonna tell us?!” Sirius whacked his friend over the head with the map.

“I just did!” James said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, “And ow, Merlin, Pads. . .”

“You hit me first!”

“I can't believe you just dropped that on us,” you said, “Lily actually agreed to this?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” James huffed.

“Hey, I'm just saying you tend to drift off into fantasy land when it comes to her,” you said, putting your hands up in mock surrender, “I was just making sure this was rooted in reality.”

Remus laughed at that, lifting the needle on his record gently.

“They have a point,” he chuckled.

“Yes, I actually proposed, and yes she actually agreed,” James said, a lovesick smile on his face, “I wanted to get married pretty soon after we graduated, and she had no problem with that. She said she'd want to start a family—”

“Oh GOD,” Sirius said, drunken horror on his face.

“An actual nightmare,” you joined in playfully, “imagine another one of you running around. Even Lily's DNA couldn't balance that out.”

“Alright, that's it,” James said, “you're not gonna be godparents anymore.”

“I'd be terrible at that anyways,” Sirius chortled.

“I disagree,” James said earnestly, and the comment struck Sirius completely off guard. He chocked up the welling tears in his eyes to the alcohol, taking another sip to mask it.

“You're going soft, Prongsy,” he grumbled.

“Look who's talking, tough guy,” James laughed, clapping his best friend on the shoulder.

“We should take a picture,” Peter suggested quietly, turning red when everyone stopped what they were doing to face him, “I-I mean, since (Y/n) was worried about things changing, and we're all graduating, a-and who knows when—”

“Good thinking Wormtail,” James beamed, pulling you closer and leaning down towards Sirius and Remus so you could all be in the frame.

Peter was looking down at his shoes, fidgeting with his wand.

“Peter, you don't wanna get in the picture?” you asked.

The large framed boy jumped at your voice, looking nervously between the people he had come to know as his friends. There was an oddly fearful look in his eyes that left as soon as it came— a look you wouldn't understand until years later.

“N-no, that's alright,” he said.

And that was one of the last peaceful days of your life you could recall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I haven't even thought about these in the longest time,” you said, staring at the faded photos, “it's crazy to look back on them. It feels both like yesterday and a hundred years ago.”

The next page immediately summoned a lump in your throat.

“This was their wedding,” you said, fighting to keep your voice level, “the year after we graduated.”

Harry looked down at the dozens of photos of the ceremony and party that took place after; James at the altar in his burgundy and gold embroidered suit, and Lily walking down the isle with a bouquet full of the flowers that shared her name. Remus raising a champagne flute to the large crowd of guests as he made a heartfelt speech. You and Sirius dancing under the floating lanterns made to mimic the Hogwarts ceiling.

“Your father never was one for subtlety,” you laughed lightly, “he wanted the ceremony to be as extravagant as possible. He pulled out all the stops. . . and then, the very next year, they announced that they were going to have you.”

You looked up at Harry, and the resemblance he shared with two of your closest late friends conjured feelings of happiness, love, and deep, cutting sadness all at the same time.

Your fingers moved to turn the page, wanting to move on to something else, but you froze as you saw the edge of the next one. So much for that plan.

“I think that's enough for now,” you said quickly, smoothing the page back down, “the others will be arriving soon for the meeting, you best get washed up.”

Harry was curious, of course, but he nodded, not wanting to press for anything else as he reluctantly headed back upstairs.

When you were left alone with the photo book you sighed, bringing yourself to turn the page to see a picture of you and Severus. You were beaming at the camera, proudly holding out your perfectly brewed Draught of Living Death, the photo having been taken by Slughorn to put up on his famous wall. One of your arms held the cauldron haphazardly, the other slung around Severus' shoulders. He certainly wasn't displaying your level of enthusiasm, but a small smile graced his expression, allowing his lips to fully curve upwards, which was as close to 'beaming' as he ever got. He looked so much younger— less burdened.

Right next to that photo was an older one from 1973. It was one you had taken from the top of the oak tree, with Severus and Lily looking up at you. You knew he'd be here soon, and you knew you should talk to him, but you found yourself stuck back in the cycle of doubting every opening spiel you came up with.

You groaned in frustration, snapping the book shut and resting your forehead on the table as stress flooded your being. You refused to live in this perpetual state of dwelling on what happened. You were ready to talk, you just had to take the first step.

Chapter 9 coming soon!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1 @crazy-obsessed-fangirl, @youcantbesirius @pan-pride-12​

[thewayshedreamed]

Maybe ’’you look exhausted, come here’’ for Lysaedion 🥺

Congratulations on 800 followers! ☺️

Hi, anon!

I know it's been forever since this prompt was sent, but I've finally managed to finish this sweet Lysaedion one-shot!

I'd like to give a shout-out to @sayosdreams since 1)Lysaedion is life and 2) it's her birthday! Happiest birthday, Bby! I hope you enjoy! 💕

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

Aedion had a long day.

Training made his job twice as hard since he remained responsible for the task at hand while trying to teach it to someone else. That meant mistakes were inevitable to a certain degree, which meant damage control fell in Aedion’s lap, too. The silver lining was that he’d had worst trainees before, so at least he wasn’t being stretched beyond his usual capacity.

His apartment was blissfully quiet when he got home. Aelin had sent him a short text about her evening plans, and although he adored his cousin beyond reason, he wouldn’t complain about the time to relax however he wanted.

Dinner was easy; leftover take-out that took only a minute to reheat. He inhaled it just as fast with the goal of getting into the world’s hottest shower as soon as possible. He mindlessly went through the steps in his routine and brushed his wet hair back, then padded into his room for a tee and a pair of sweatpants.

His body fell heavily onto the couch. With a sigh, he grabbed the remote and found a movie that he’d seen a million times to serve as suitable background noise for scrolling through his phone. He lay there, content for the first time all day with his phone propped against his chest and an arm curled behind his head. It was enough to make his eyes heavy, and he’d just allowed them to flutter closed when he heard a sharp knock.

He sat up, mildly disoriented in his drowsiness. The TV continued to play the low sounds of the movie, effectively ruling out the possibility that the loud sound originated there. Rubbing a hand down his face, he tossed his legs over the side of the couch and gathered the fragile remnants of his social battery. The knock sounded again, more insistent.

“Coming,” he grumbled, although he wasn’t sure it was loud enough for his visitor to hear it.

If his cousin forgot her key once again and interrupted his nap, he’d throttle her. It wouldn’t be the first, second, or fiftieth time. Although, she wasn’t exactly the cause of his grumpiness, so it wasn’t entirely fair to make her pay for the lot of it. The fight had already left him by the time he turned the knob and pulled the door toward his body.

It wasn’t Aelin’s golden hair or their identical eyes that stared back. Lysandra stood in front of him, looking like she may have had a similar day to his own. The possibility that she was there to see him were as close to zero as one could get, so he leaned his shoulder against the door and waited.

"Where's Aelin?" Her voice was low, almost defeated. As much as he already knew she would be there for his cousin, he couldn’t help a pang of disappointment. That was new.

"She's out. I think she's with Rowan."

Lysandra's shoulders slumped. Wordlessly, she walked past him and padded over to the couch and flopped onto the center cushion. The two of them were friends, but that was largely in part to their shared proximity to his cousin. He wouldn't pretend he didn't flirt with Lys from time to time, but they didn't exactly hang out together intentionally. Or alone.

Aedion eased the door shut and settled back into the corner of the couch, pulling a cushion into his lap for something to do with his hands. Lysandra was quiet, but she looked content in a way he hadn’t expected in Aelin’s absence. Whatever she was working through kept that rounded shape to her shoulders, and he couldn’t help but want to take it away.

"Everything alright?"

With a disgruntled groan, Lysandra folded to lay her head on the pillow across his lap. "No. Today was a fucking nightmare."

Aedion tensed at the action, but he forced a breath and relaxed. Lysandra was hardly a stranger, and they’d been around each other for years. Nothing was wrong with the casual affection, and Lys clearly needed the contact.

“You look exhausted.”

A beat of silence passed, and when he looked toward his lap, he found Lysandra’s eyes fixed on him with an unimpressed glare. His laugh was involuntary, but before he could mutter a series of apologies, her mouth twitched at the corners.

“You always know what to say,” she said, deadpan.

“Finally, you’ve come around to my charm.”

Lysandra, the headstrong woman she was, turned onto her side to give him the cold shoulder. Aedion knew she was likely teasing, but the idea that Lysandra could be angry with him gutted him more than he wanted to admit.

“Lys,” he murmured, grabbing her shoulder. “Come here.”

She resisted his soft tug long enough to make her point. With a defeated sigh, she fell roughly onto her back again to fix her bright emerald eyes on his face, and something clenched in his gut at the defeat he noticed.

“I’m no Aelin, but you can talk to me.”

A small smile worked at the corner of her full, inviting mouth. “You may be more likely to coddle me, anyway,” she joked. “I could use a little coddling.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Lysandra loosed a heavy breath. “It was a stressful day at work. I’ve been working my ass off for weeks on a proposal, only to hear my boss presenting the entire thing to administration with zero credit given to me. I’ve wanted to move up forever, and opportunities are rare enough. Never mind the fact that no one making those decisions would know my name from someone who has just applied considering how my boss hoards the credit.”

Aedion looked aimlessly into the space in front of him, considering.

“How would your boss respond if you brought it to their attention?”

She was quiet for a moment, then rolled to face Aedion’s abdomen, her legs curled up tight between her body and the couch cushion. He didn’t breathe for fear of startling her, but she seemed to settle in fine enough. He’d be lying if he said his chest didn’t swell at her seeking comfort in his lap.

“I don’t think it’s a matter of their ignorance. I think they know exactly what they’re doing, so I can’t imagine that would go well.”

“I’m sorry.” Where was the excess of information he usually felt he knew anytime he had an opinion on Aelin’s life? As insufferable as she found him— and overbearing, according to his cousin— one would swear he’d never given a stitch of advice in his life. His words were lost.

“Not your fault.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m sorry for dumping all this on you. I’ll shut up so you can watch your movie.”

Aedion huffed a laugh. “Don’t apologize. I’m here anytime.”

Lysandra scooted a fraction closer, her nose a hair’s breadth away from the white cotton of his shirt. It was tempting to loop his arm beneath her neck and her legs to pull her fully into his lap. That way, he could dote on her properly.

That would probably be pushing it when she hadn’t shown up for him in the first place.

He was so busy mentally rolling his eyes at himself and trying to ignore the warmth of her exhales across his stomach that he almost didn’t notice how her hand slid to hem of his shirt. It was a mindless gesture, he realized, when her eyes didn’t open at all. She wrapped the fabric loosely around her fingers, her breaths evening out seconds later.

Aedion took a moment to take her in, the elegant lines of her face and the way she clung to him as if he could save her from the woes of her day. Hadn’t that been what he wished he could do upon her arrival? Didn’t it mean something that she’d curled into him and found enough comfort to sleep?

His chest tightened. Wisps of her dark hair danced around her face, either from the ceiling fan or her steady breathing. Aedion didn’t deny himself the itch of taming them away from her face. He couldn’t let something as trivial as hair wake her up.

When his fingers made contact at her temple, he held his breath. He worried that he would wake her despite his goal of the opposite, but Lysandra let out a long breath and nuzzled into his shirt. A smile tugged at his lips.

The movie continued to play in the background, so he rested his temple atop his fist and fixed his attention on the screen. He had no way of knowing how long Lys would snooze, but he was content to allow her as much rest as she needed. Her hair was properly settled, and without a second thought, he rested his other hand against her petite waist. She sighed at his warmth or the weight of the contact, and Aedion’s chest finally relaxed.

Things were certainly looking up.

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

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Civilian

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason Todd is used to saving the innocent. But he’s not used to them saving him. 

Word Count: 3,100 – One Shot

“Fuck me,” Jason groaned as he stumbled across the rooftops.

How he was able to even walk right now was beyond him.

He had Slade on the ropes. Just one more punch to put him off balance and Jason would’ve shoved a knife into his jugular and be done with him. But Slade had a few more tricks up his sleeve and decided to flee instead of finish a losing battle, so he ran like a coward. 

It left Jason utterly irritated and with a huge gash in his side, amongst other various injuries. 

He could’ve called one his “friends” or someone in his “family.” But he was stubborn. He wanted to be stronger than that. He wanted to prove that he didn’t need any of them. He was better than that. He was the best. And he’d risk bleeding out to prove it to them – or really…himself.

But his body wasn’t on the same page.

And it finally had enough.

Jason stumbled to his knees on a rooftop. He groaned as his vision became hazy.

His helmet had a protective system in place so no one could take it off if he was unconscious. They’d get a nice little shock if they tried. His identity would be safe even if someone stumbled upon his injured body… or corpse.

Jason managed to roll onto his back and was met with the smoggy Gotham sky.

“Get the fuck up,” he told himself aloud.

He blinked, trying to straighten and clear his vision.

But it was useless.

The last thing Jason remember seeing was the Bat signal reflecting off of the cloudy sky. Somewhere in the city, there was more crime to fight and he’d just be another asshole who thought he could put a stop to it.

Dying didn’t scare Jason anymore. He’d done it once before, and he could do it again. What did it matter now anyway?

But Jason didn’t die.

He woke up on a couch. Well, if one could even call it that. His 6’4 frame could barely fit on the thing. His legs were hanging off the end, not able to comfortably fit on the thing.

His head felt like it was having the worse hangover of his life. When he opened his eyes, he blinked at the incoming sunlight. Then he realized he wasn’t looking through the programming of his Red Hood helmet.

Then he touched his face to realize that his backup domino mask had also been removed, leaving his identity exposed. 

His eyes widened in slight panic as he looked around.

He appeared to be a in a small apartment – normal, no threats detected.

Then Jason looked down to realize he wasn’t in his uniform. In fact, his chest was bare and he was only in his black briefs. His autopsy scars on full display.

But just half a foot away from him, his clothes were neatly folded into a pile on the edge of the coffee table. His two guns were sitting right next to them.

Whoever had brought him here clearly didn’t see him as a threat. Stupid on their part. There were about two dozen other weapons hiding in the crevices of his clothes too.

But the more concerning thing was that Jason didn’t have a single wound on his body. The giant gash to his side that had made him faint and nearly die from blood loss was nowhere to be found. After all these years, Jason was still figuring out the side effects from being dumped into the Lazarus pit. But this couldn’t be related, could it?

Suddenly there was the sound of the apartment door opening.

On instinct alone, Jason shot up, grabbed one of his guns, and found his target.

What he wasn’t expecting to find was a beautiful woman, probably only just a little bit younger than him, standing with a coffees in a carrier tray and a bag in the other hand. She had earbuds in, further disorienting her from such a welcome. Her eyes went wide and the rest of her body was completely frozen.

After a few seconds, she slowly tugged her headphones out.

“Is the gun really necessary?” She asked.

But Jason could tell from her body language that she was scared.

“Who the hell are you?”

She had enough courage to glare at his tone. “I’m the person who saved your life, asshole.”

“Yeah? And how exactly did you do that?”

She seemed to be getting less scared and more angry with every sentence Jason said.

“If you put the fucking gun down, I’ll tell you.”

Jason hesitated before finally putting it down. Then his behavior caught up to him. Here was this stranger, who was clearly innocent and had helped him…and his first thought was to point a gun at the poor thing.

“Sorry,” he finally gasped. “It’s…a habit.”

She just eyed him, neither rejecting or accepting his apology.

She sat on the love seat opposite of the couch that he’d taken over.

With an innocent look, she slowly put a coffee cup on the table and the bag.

“I’m not much of a cook… so I picked up breakfast. It’s just a black coffee. I figured you didn’t like anything fancy.” 

“T-Thank you,” he stuttered out, trying his best not to sound harsh.

Those words were strange coming out of his mouth. And Jason couldn’t figure out if it was because he’d completely lost his manners or there wasn’t anything someone had done for him lately that warranted any sort of thanks.

“I’m sorry about taking off your clothes,” she suddenly said. “I would’ve given you something. But…well…I don’t have anything even close to your size. Even my oversized clothing wouldn’t have fit.”

Jason was about to tell her it was OK, but she continued.

“Not that I would’ve even been able to put it on you. I hardly got your clothes off.”

Jason smirked at that. “Speaking of which, how the hell did you get my helmet off.”

“Yeah…I managed to get you to come to for a minute or so.” Then she shifted in her seat, clutching her coffee tighter as if it was a security blanket. “I honestly just asked you very nicely. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone what you looked like. You were kind of just…a zombie or something and…took it off.”

Then he took her stature in. Jason knew he was a big guy. He was bigger than the majority of men. He’d only met a few women in his life that were taller than him, and they were all either Amazons or aliens.

This young woman was neither of those things.

“How did you get me off that roof?”

She laughed, seeing that he was trying to add it up in his head. “I’m definitely no Superman. My neighbor doesn’t have any other hobbies besides going to the gym. He owed me a favor.” Then her eyes widened. “Don’t worry, he didn’t see you without your helmet. He’s also sworn to secrecy.”

Jason shrugged. “It’s fine if he did. I can just kill him later.”

He saw her whole body tense up at that.

“Relax. I’m kidding.”

Her tension was released, but she didn’t find his joke very funny.

Then her eyes locked to the floor.

Jason took this chance to study her. 

Her hair was a bit of a mess. But there was still a halo around it as the sun shined from behind her. Her jeans were a bit baggy, but purposely so. She was wearing a band t-shirt that was so worn that there were a few holes in it.

Jason had to acknowledge that she was beautiful. But he had made note of that as soon as he’d pointed a gun at her.

“I ended last night with a life-threatening injury…amongst other things,” Jason said as he looked down at his body. “I woke up with not even a scratch on me. So why don’t you tell me how the hell that’s possible?”

She finally raised her gaze from the floor to him. Then she swallowed and clenched her jaw. It was clear she had been hoping for a scenario where Jason didn’t ask any questions, where he would just give his thanks and move on.

But she wasn’t that lucky. 

“Hey,” he said gently. “You’ve seen my face. You know who I am now. Whatever it is you’re scared to tell me, we’ll be even.”

She stared at him a bit longer before taking in a shaky breath. “I…umm…can do this thing.”

“Uh huh,” he encouraged.

“I can heal people by…umm…touching them?”

Jason sat back, letting the information settle. “Huh,” he said with small nod.

“I saved your life,” she told him. “All I ask in return is that you keep my secret.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he told her.

She nodded nervously, but didn’t seem fully convinced.

“What’s your name?” He asked her softly.

She looked unsure if she should tell him.

“I’m Jason. Jason Todd.” He offered to even the playing field.

She tilted her head, probably because she heard that name before. Everyone in Gotham had at some point. The tragic death of Bruce Wayne’s second adopted son. And then the dead son who had somehow come back, his death misidentified. There were hundreds of rumors about what really happened. But they all sounded ridiculous to her.

“Y/N,” she finally told him.

“Thank you for saving my life, Y/N.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But I have to ask why you did.”

After all, the neighborhood she lived in was weary of Gotham’s vigilantes. Some believed they were keeping them safe, while others thought they were just making things worse. It led to a general distrust of the masked heroes.

“They say the Red Hood used to be Robin,” she told him quietly.

“I don’t pay attention to what people say…”

Y/N leaned forward. “But is it true? Were you Robin back then?”

Jason ground his teeth together. “That was a lifetime ago.”

She watched him for a minute, working out whether she wanted to share something or not. 

“When I was a little girl, I was at the bank with my mom when a robbery went down. Things went bad and quick. They panicked, decided a little girl was the best hostage to grab. We barely got a few blocks away before Batman intervened. I was terrified, even of him. But Robin was with him…and he could tell I was scared. He wasn’t that much older than me, but he was so much braver. He held my hand until the police came. But even then I wouldn’t let go of him. So, he stayed with me until my mom got there.” She took in a deep and shaky breath. “It meant a lot to me.”

Jason controlled his expression, but he knew what she was talking about. He remembered that night. How he did was beyond him. But it didn’t feel long ago. He remembered thinking the little girl was pretty. 

Jason didn’t have a lot of friends back then. He came from the streets but lived in a mansion. He couldn’t figure out who he was back then. And it was hard to relate to other children. 

Back then, it was the most intimate interaction he had with someone his age. 

“Would you still have saved me last night even if I hadn’t been Robin?” 

This was all Y/N would get in terms of Jason admitting that he had been Robin that night.

Y/N shrugged and nodded. Then she cleared her throat. “The only thing saving this shit hole of a city is people doing the right thing.”

Jason stood.

The motion startled Y/N and she followed his action without even meaning to.

Now that he was standing on his own two feet, she truly understood just how absolutely massive he was. She was by no means short and she still felt like she was looking at a giant.

However, Jason misread her gawking for something else. “You don’t have to be scared of me, kid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her quietly.

“I’m not scared of you,” she said as her face suddenly felt hot.

Y/N didn’t know what she had expected to see under that red helmet last night. But she definitely wasn’t expecting a man handsome enough to be a model.

But then her brow scrunched, “And I’m not a kid.” Jason smiled – like, genuinely smiled. The muscles on his face forgot what that felt like.

He eyed the band t-shirt she was wearing: Fleetwood Mac – the Rumors album, to be precise.

“You’ve got good taste in music,” Jason complimented.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled.

A new tension filled the air.

Something neither of them have felt in awhile – if at all.

Y/N cleared her throat again, starting to feel too close to this large and beautiful man who was only standing in his briefs.

“You can use the shower if you want.”

Jason smirked. “Thanks, but I should get out of your hair. You’ve already done enough for me.”

He took a step toward her, realizing that he seemed to like seeing her reaction to his presence.

She stayed in place, but shifted her weight.

Jason lowered his head a bit. “Your secret is safe with me, Y/N. Thank you again…you saved my life.”

——————

Y/N and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about one another since that morning.

Jason had trust issues. And because of those trust issues, he learned not to rely on others. He refused to be anything besides independent. But those flaws were also the reason it was so hard for him to get close to anyone. He kept people at a distance so he could never be rejected or get his heart broken. It was problematic, but that was how he survived.

But Y/N had shown him kindness and then expected absolutely nothing in return. She just hoped he wouldn’t shoot her brains out when he finally came to.

Meanwhile, Y/N couldn’t remember the last time a man looked at her the way Jason had. Just thinking about the looks he gave her caused goosebumps to shiver across her skin. She’d seen the scars across his skin and knew he’d lived a rough life. And that wasn’t even including the scars his mind and heart held. She wondered who was the last person to help him or to just show him that they cared whether he lived or died.

It had been a few weeks and Y/N still couldn’t get Jason Todd out of her mind. Even now, as she sat on the rooftop of her building once again, eating a pizza she’d just picked up and washing it down with cheap red wine.

She almost spilled said wine all over herself when she jumped from the sound of someone dropping onto the roof from behind her.

Y/N whipped around to see Red Hood walking steadily toward her.

“Sorry. I tried to be loud so I wouldn’t scare you.” His voice sounded different from the helmet distorting it.

“Well, most people use doors and stairs…so I think the effort is pretty useless.”

Jason ignored her joke and pulled out a thick envelope that had been tucked on the inside of his leather jacket. 

He handed it to her.

Y/N was confused, but took it from his grasp anyway.

She opened it to find two tickets to see Fleetwood Mac on their reunion tour at Gotham City Stadium.

Her gaze shot up to Jason’s and then she did a double take at the tickets, making sure she wasn’t seeing things.

“How - What - Why?” She finally sputtered out the right question.

Jason just shrugged. “I owed you.”

“T-This is too much. I can’t accept this. These tickets must’ve cost a fortune,” she told him as she tried to hand the envelop back to him.

But he wasn’t having it and simply shook his head.

Y/N knew they cost a fortune because she had looked up tickets. Her heart had broken when she saw how far out of her budget the lowest prices were.

“Take them, Y/N. Please.”

She knew there was no point in arguing.

But she slowly looked up at him. “Would…ummm… Would you like to go with me?”

Jason blinked at the offer. “Seriously?”

Y/N laughed at his surprise. “Yeah, I mean, clearly you’re a fan, too.” Then she shrugged, now self conscious that she’d been too forward. “I don’t know. When was the last time you did something fun?”

Jason was shocked at how right she was.

“Oh, my God!” Y/N suddenly yelped.

Jason immediately jumped into action, grabbing both of his guns and stepping to Y/N in a protective stance.

“Jason, you’re bleeding!” She cried out, not realizing that he had just used his body as a human shield for her to defend an attack that wasn’t even happening.

He relaxed and followed her gaze to his forearm – the small patch of skin between his gloves and the rolled up sleeve of his leather jacket. He had been sliced by a knife. He probably needed to clean it before it got infected and stitch it up. 

“Y/N, it’s just a scratch.”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “Come here.”

Then he let her dragged him to the two fold-out chairs she kept on the roof.

Jason realized suddenly that he didn’t mind being bossed around by this woman. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it.

Without asking for permission, Y/N put her palm over his cut.

Jason watched as he felt a comforting warmth wash over the area of skin that she was touching. Within seconds, his cut was completely gone.

Y/N gave it a satisfied smile. No matter how many injuries she healed, the pride and relief never went away.

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” Jason was relieved his helmet hid the dumbstruck look that was surely on his face. 

Y/N didn’t seem to take the compliment very well and slightly folded into herself.

“So, will you?” She changed the subject quickly.

“Will I what?” But as Jason asked for clarification, he knew that he’d probably do anything Y/N would ask of him.

“Will you go to the concert with me?”

He nodded.

The nonverbal answer was enough for Y/N because she gave him a beaming smile.

In that moment, Jason wondered how he could ever push Y/N away like he had done with everyone else in his life. 

And for once, he allowed himself to feel happy.

Maybe he could keep letting himself be happy, as long as it included Y/N. 

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

Really, really loving writing for Jason Todd. I was a little exhausted with Marvel fandom.  Let me know what you think!

[pinkoptics]

Would You Catch Me If I Fall?

aka Cherik Fallen Angel fic

Part 2 of Chapter 2

(Previous parts now on Ao3)

Erik is going to do everything he can to make sure Charles is taken care of. Charles saved his life. That’s why. Right… right???

*

“Mr. Olsen, I believe you will do exactly as I’ve asked.”

Mr. Olsen opened his mouth, to protest most likely, but Erik was well practiced in speaking in a way that left no room for interruption. “You will, because you are aware of the exact amount my firm has donated to your hospital this year and every other before it.”

Mr. Olsen was turning an interesting shade of red. It had nothing on Azazel, but the flush beneath his skin was making a concerted effort.

“You are also aware of what it would do to this hospital’s reputation for being at the forefront of mutant medicine if my firm were to very vocally withdraw its support and place it elsewhere, say... Johns Hopkins?”

“Mr. Lehnsherr—“ Still red, but now also sputtering. “You do not have the authority. Shaw would never—“

Erik smiled in such a way that Olsen cut himself off. Erik’s smile, though the word hardly applied, very early in his career had earned him the nickname ‘The Shark.’ Only used when he knew his prey was very much backed into a corner of their own making and it was time for the kill.

“If The Incident were to suddenly appear on social media again, with a narrative much closer to the truth...”

Red became purple. “We have an NDA! You can’t—“

“When information is out it is out, Mr. Olsen. Non-disclosures only hold weight if the parties involved care about the consequences. I could give a fuck. Besides, whether this hospital is guilty or innocent, reputations once ruined are terribly hard to salvage, aren’t they? Once, tried in the court of public opinion...”

“Shaw would— you’d be—“

Erik simply raised an eyebrow.

Olsen was right. Erik didn’t have the authority to stop donations, Shaw would have his job and his ass if he ever went to the public about any of the firm’s cases. Moreover, he would probably lose his license to practice. None of those things mattered however, not because Erik truly didn’t care, but because Olsen only needed to believe he was serious. If Erik couldn’t sense the man’s weaknesses, and couldn’t exploit them, he would hardly have been the best lawyer at his firm (no matter what Emma said to the contrary). The seed of doubt, once planted in a weak mind, was notoriously difficult to weed out.

“Fine,” Olsen ground out. Looking like he was very much sucking on a lemon.

Erik levitated the paperwork he had prepared by its staple. It was accompanied by one of the disgustingly expensive fountain pens the firm utilized to perpetuate its reputation. It hovered in front of the sour countenance and Erik felt the same sense of satisfaction he did after a particularly shrewd cross examination.

Threatening Olsen in this way was beyond overkill.

However, Erik knew of nothing else that would resolve Charles’ situation as swiftly. As Olsen scratched out his signature nearly hard enough to tear paper, Charles’ need for insurance, identity, and anything else he did not have, vanished.

Besides, he’d never liked this man or this hospital, so if he got to have a little fun while getting Charles what he needed, all the better. The faster he could get Charles out of here unscathed the better. He owed him that much, possibly more. There were few people insane enough, selfless enough, to throw themselves in front of a car for a stranger. Erik had made it his life’s work to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves. Charles had more than earned that same protection until he was back to his former self.

T’s crossed and i’s dotted, Erik left Olsen to fume, so he could share the good news with Charles. The words that had been leaping forward died on his lips when he took in the state of Charles’ room.

“. . . Did you rob a florist?”

Charles graced him with a much less hysterical, much more pleasant sounding laugh than he had any time previously.

“Aren’t people just lovely? This one is from the nurse on call, Ben. He has the most adorable little boy. Teething at the moment, which is trying of course, but he’s so precious one can hardly be cross. I’m sure Ben would be happy to show you the photos too. This one is from Dr. Yousef, whom you’ve already met. She detests flowers, personally, as she’s never home consistently enough to care for them properly. This one is from Saima...”

While Charles no longer appeared to be in a state of hysteria, it appeared to be Erik’s turn, and he became suddenly, hysterically deaf. Had he misplaced a day? Or two? More? Was he the one with the head injury?

“Did you— I mean, do you know them?”

Charles cut off his still in-progress monologue about his sudden and inexplicable well-wishers.

“Oh no. We’ve just met. Nancy would like to get coffee when I’m better though. I believe that is a cultural expression of friendship, is it not? Or does coffee equal sex? It’s so hard to keep track of these things as humans rarely say what they truly mean. Why do you lot insist upon speaking in code? A code that changes every generation no less. Regardless, I’ve never had coffee. Given how utterly obsessed with it you all are I’m rather excited to find out what all the fuss is about.”

Erik didn’t know what part of that to address first, if at all.

Ben, Yousef, Saima... who the fuck was Nancy?

Sex?

Never had coffee?

“Oh Erik, I’m sorry. You look so confused again. I forget myself. I would much rather have coffee for the first time with you of course. At that diner you speak so highly of. I believe diners generally serve coffee.”

Erik blinked. Did that mean Charles wanted to be his friend or have sex with him? Or, did never having had coffee actually mean never having had sex? No. Wait. What in the fuck were they talking about?

What came out was, mercifully, “You make friends quickly.” This was something he and Charles certainly didn’t share.

“Do I?” Charles shrugged. “I love people. All people. They’re so fascinating.” Something else he and Charles certainly didn’t share. In his experience, most people were dull or cruel or both. Except Charles. Charles had been the exact opposite of dull or cruel right from the first. Crashing headfirst into Erik, literally and figuratively, and smashing all his expectations of what people did or didn’t do for one another. It might have also been the head injury/amnesia mitigating the dullness, making him say the most ridiculous things that Erik had ever heard and couldn’t even begin to sort out, but Erik didn’t really think so. He read people extremely well and Charles intrigued him. No one intrigued him.

Shoving the friends/coffee/sex equivalency conversation aside, Erik patted his briefcase. “I’ve sorted out everything with hospital administration. You won’t have to worry about insurance, bills... if there’s anything you need, just ask. They will be sure you get it.”

“I won’t ask how you managed it.” Charles’ look became conspiratorial. Almost as if he did know Erik’s methods. There was no way, of course, that he did unless he was a telepath, which Erik had already briefly mused on. “You really needn’t have troubled yourself, though I appreciate it, you, all the same.”

There it was again. The strange gravity his words seemed to possess. Erik flushed, not something he ever did, feeling that appreciation to his core. Charles’ smile deepened and somehow held the same weight as his words. Looking at it was almost too much, like looking straight at the sun, it warmed parts of Erik he hadn’t even realized were cold.

“You can stay with me,” Erik said, apropos of nothing, then flinched, his own words surprising him. It wasn’t the offer he had intended to make. The Firm put people up all the time for various reasons, and Erik had planned to slip Charles in to one of his current cases with no one the wiser. The doctor felt certain it wouldn’t be long until his memory returned, based on her previous experience of such cases.

Charles’ astonishment seemed to match his own. “Erik, that’s too much. You’ve done so much already.”

Erik rubbed at the back of neck, avoiding Charles’ eyes, which were comically, anime-wide. While he hadn’t meant to make the offer, he also found now that he had, he also had no sense of regret. His flat was large, he practically lived at the firm, so it would hardly be an inconvenience and the less he abused his position, the less tracks he had to cover.

He coughed, “There’s always Nancy.” Erik hoped the joke would break the sudden tension. “You could take her up on her ambiguous offer.” Charles laughed. Success.

“Coffee, and whatever else it may suggest, is a far cry from living together. Besides, I don’t even know Nancy.”

“You don’t know me either. You may have unwittingly saved a sociopath the world would be better without.”

Charles shook his head. “Don’t be absurd. You’re a good man, Erik. Better than you know.”

Everything about this was absurd.

“It’s settled then, when they discharge you, you can stay with me until we figure out who you are.”

Charles’ face, which Erik was already beginning to realize was nakedly expressive, came over suddenly unreadable.

“I—“ Charles hesitated, eyes flicking away from Erik to the window. Erik supposed coming to live with any stranger was enough to give anyone pause, especially someone who was as disoriented as Charles must already be. He was about to shift back to his original, much less awkward, plan when Charles’ gaze focused back on him. “All right. Until... until then.”

“Until then,” Erik echoed and they both fell suddenly silent.

He was inviting someone to live with him when he had never lived with anyone besides his mother his entire life. Roommates? Please. Erik had never had to, but would have rather lived in a squalid apartment than have to share a living space with anyone, even when putting himself through the extraordinary expenditure of american law school. Yet, here he was. Here they were. It felt right. Perhaps he had an overabundance of gratitude and quid pro quo to sate. It was the only thing that made any sense in the face of something that made absolutely no sense.

He’d probably regret it the instant Charles was in his space, but he also wasn’t someone who went back on his word, so he was taking in this stray whether he came to regret it or not.

Mama, at least, would approve.

*

Now on Ao3

Thanks for reading!!

[xenteaart]

Shall We? (Part 2)

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x fem!Reader

Request: Can I request part two for Shall We? Pleeeeaase 🙏!! You can’t just leave it like that.

Word count: 1,7k

Warnings: kind of a fight scene?? and like one swear word idk

Note: Sooo here’s part two of this fic, give it a read if you havent coz otherwise this one is not going to make much sense haha

For the sake of the story, Five disappeared when he was 18 (instead of 13) and got stuck in his 18 year-old-body after coming back accordingly. Also I’ve decided to give the reader and the Handler kind of a Lila x the Handler dynamic

The events are taking place in s1, some details of the canon are obvsly altered.

ALSO THERE’S A LIL EASTER EGG AT THE END MWEHEHE

Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @stitched-mouth​ @startrekkingaroundasgard​

“You do know you can’t win. I really don’t wanna hurt you, Y/N,” he uttered, raising his hands a little as a way to warn you not to come any closer for your own good.

Even though it was supposed to be a sweet gesture of concern, hearing him confirm that he still thought you were no match for him cut you to your very core.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I’m afraid you might have to. Shall we?” you sneered and threw your leg into the air, hitting Five right under his kneecap and making him collapse on the ground with a surprised gasp.

Five truly had zero intention of hurting you, but your determination to have a fight left him no choice, and even his clear advantage of having loads more experience and superpowers on top did not seem to make you hesitate.

“Come on, don’t be stupid, Y/N,” Five commented as he got back on his feet and took a few steps away from you, still giving you a chance to back off before he had to inflict any pain on your person, but all it achieved was winding you up even more.

The problem was - you two underwent identical training at the Commission as the Handler gave both of you her very best mentor, and right now you were basically mirroring each other’s moves, except Five was also using his spatial jumps to disorient you. He was still going easy on you, mostly just blocking your punches and jumping further away so you had to chase him all over the Academy while he was hoping you would simply exhaust yourself before any real damage would be done. Quite frankly, it was a smart decision on his part and a rather thoughtful one as well because, despite all appearances, he actually cared about you an awful lot.

As the both of you gracefully danced all the way to the second floor, you were already out of breath from the endless running around which meant Five’s plan was beginning to work. However, you realized what he was doing soon enough to indulge him into the feeling of being right and played his little game for a while, waiting for the perfect moment when he’d get distracted, and as the moment came you had to act fast.

You threw yourself forwards and promptly wrapped your arms around Five’s waist, knocking him off his feet and pressing your body against his as you pinned him to the floor. He groaned with annoyance and winced at the pain as his back hit the hard wooden surface. The next few seconds sort of happened in slow-mo for both of you as he roughly pushed you off himself and somehow managed to switch places with you, now looming over your body and warningly putting his knee on your solar plexus, threatening to crush your ribcage if you moved.

A mutual silence fell between you as you were processing the last 30 minutes of your lives, both visibly struggling to believe that each of you somehow ended up fighting the person they would never wish to hurt in their entire life. The sounds of your heavy breathing were filling the room as you were merely staring at each other in utter confusion. The weight of Five’s knee on your diaphragm was beginning to give you trouble breathing, and your breaths became shallow and hoarse which finally snapped him out of his trance.

“Gonna tell me what the hell is up now, Y/N?” he asked in his teacher-y manner that you used to absolutely hate and adore all at once, especially when he used to give you lectures on your occasional fuck-ups - whether it was failing a class because you were too lazy to turn in your assigments in time or something a little more serious, like getting into an argument with the Monocle and consequently making life harder for both of you.

You would always roll your eyes and smirk when he would get into his i-am-disappointed-in-you-but-i-still-love-you character and cross his arms on his chest for dramatic effect.

“You were the one telling me to piss off in the first place, remember,” you narrowed your eyes as you were subtly gasping for air underneath Five’s weight. He pursed his lips and looked away, contemplating whether or not to be completely honest. Evidently, his lack of sincerity got him nowhere the last time around, so he sighed loudly; his shoulders dropping and his expression finally revealing all of the exhaustion and regret that he was concealing quite successfully up until now.

“I only pushed you away to protect you.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me,” you replied, clearly unimpressed and palpably suspicious; two years of being brainwashed by the Handler now taking their toll on your perspective.

“God, don’t be so slow,” Five uttered clearly irritated but then quickly realized his offensive implication and added, “Said with respect.”

You stayed silent, raising your brow as a way of telling him to continue.

“I couldn’t risk you becoming a casualty because being involved in my family’s mess as a non-super is dangerous. As in, you’re going to be a target all the time, and I couldn’t and still can’t afford to waste my time worrying about your safety. As much as I’d love to - it’s simply not the luxury I have. I’ve got to stop the end of the world, otherwise everyone is going to be dead in four days, don’t you get it?” Five asked, a waterfall of emotions pushing at the inner sides of his chest, waiting to be set loose and consume everything on its way.

You were quietly listening to his explanation and taking it all in whilst still trying to fight off the suspicion and disbelief that were nagging at your every cell.

“I wanted to keep you safe because I couldn’t bear to lose you again,” his voice trembled a little as the memories of his post-apocalypse life washed over his mind, “The last 45 years have been a fucking nightmare.”

“I’d find it way more believable if you stopped crushing my ribs for starters,” you muttered through clenched teeth and immediately felt the pressure taken off your chest, precious and very much needed oxygen starting to flow through your system the way it should again.

Five got up and offered his hand to help you on your feet as a gesture to show you that he didn’t see you as an enemy and placed trust in you. You took his hand and steadied yourself awkwardly, still slightly disoriented and light-headed.

“I don’t know what the Handler told you but I do know she’s exceptional at manipulating,” Five added as he looked you right in the eye, “Christ, and you’re so naive, always have been. Most days it’s truly adorable but sometimes, Y/N, it really doesn’t work in your favor,” as the words escaped his lips, his gaze became noticeably softer; his expression blossoming with tenderness towards you.

“Prove it. Prove that you care.”

Five chuckled and shook his head, simultaneously annoyed and amused at your stubbornness. The atmosphere between you was shifting and you couldn’t help but notice the familiar overwhelming feeling of comfort and peace enveloping your person from head to toe. You’ve forgotten what it felt like being around Five, and now you were finally getting to remember. At home.

He slipped his hand into the pocket of his uniform shorts and pulled out a grape-sized plastic figure of a golden retriever.

“You gave me this a few days before I jumped and got stuck in the future. I carried it with me all the way. This silly trinket was the only thing I had left of you, the only thing that reminded me you were still out there waiting for me. Kept me going,” he shrugged casually as if it wasn’t important at all which it absolutely was.

“Five, c’mere! Look what I found!” you called for him as you were sitting on the floor surrounded by all sorts of useless crap. You were in the middle of decluttering your bedroom when a little figure of a dog caught your eye, it was the breed that Five was especially fond of and you knew he secretly dreamed of getting a puppy of his own as soon as he was out of the house.

“What’s that?” he asked, unimpressed.

“It’s a doggie! He wants to be your friend,” you replied, playing with your accent a little, rolling you “r”s and shifting the flow of your words to sound more Scottish or ... Russian. God knows where you were going with it but you tended to butcher your accent for fun quite a lot.

“Y/N, are you twelve?”

“His name is Mr.Pennycrumb and he’s gonna look after you whenever I’m not around,” you said with utmost confidence and gave him a wide smile, putting the trinket into Five’s pocket, clearly very proud of yourself and still committed to your silly accent performance, “Treat him well.”

Five scoffed and shrugged.

“Whatever.”

“So did he?” you asked, staring at the goddamn toy as tears were slowly welling up in your eyes.

“What?”

“Did he do a good job looking after you while I wasn’t around?” your gaze finally met Five’s as the realization in his own eyes was starting to sink in. A pained smile touched the corners of his mouth, and you could see Five genuinely struggle to maintain his tough facade.

“Yeah. He did.”

Without saying a word, you stepped closer and rested your cheek on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him, this time with no hostility or murderous intention. If you had to be perfectly honest with yourself, you’d admit you could never find it in you to actually hurt Five, let alone killing him. Both of you knew that way too well.

He returned the hug and pulled you closer, burying his nose in your hair and then planting a quick innocent kiss on the top of your head. Feeling the warmth radiating from you was enough to make him relax further into your embrace, his eyes now closed shut and his breathing steady and deep.

It didn’t last for as long as you’d like, though, a big loud bang from downstairs making you both flinch and pull away from each other, breaking your fragile bubble of comfort and calm in an instant.

“Shit, Hazel and Cha-Cha,” Five whispered, concern and worry crawling back onto his features. He briefly looked at you, and you simply nodded, non-verbally confirming that you were willing to help and were no longer part of the Handler’s plan.

The two of you were going to talk all about that later. His years alone, his and your own involvement with the Commission, the end of the world and loads more.

Of course, right in this moment neither of you could possibly know that your friendship was, in fact, a gateway into a lifelong partnership but you were bound to find out eventually. And the journey you two were about to begin as soon as the apocalypse was dealt with and gone was going to be magnificent.

[mushroommushy]

Enter Bunnix

Pharaoh

“What’s this? Nora Cesaire and Alix Kubdel sprinting full tilt towards the local university with baseball bats?”

- The episode still starts with Alya doing the Ladyblog live stream with her following the team for the day

- Ladybug is screaming for help as she desperately hangs off the helicopter as Bunnix and Chat chase her

- Ladybug drops her history notes

- It’s not the actual textbook, but a purse filled with actual notes

- Thankfully none of them had her name on them or school

- Alya was still super excited, stating this was the same subjects she was studying

- And wondering if Ladybug was in the same grade or school as her

- Alix was a bit nervous about Alya’s curiosity, as it may lead to her getting in trouble

- Especially if Hawkmoth were to see it and get closer to Ladybug’s identity

- Marinette was of course panicking and Tikki suggests going to the museum with Alya and being able to potentially get her notes back

- They managed to meet up with Alix when they entered the Louvre, who had an idea on why they were there

- Alix was getting her dad to show them around the Egyptian exhibit when Jalil walked past, looking pretty upset

- Mari and Alya noticed that and was slightly concerned, especially when they heard a few other guys jeering at him

- Alim wasn’t very amused with this

Alim: All three of you boys! Knock it off and leave my son alone!

- They thankfully left Jalil alone, but he was already gone, having went to the Kubdels apartment

Alim: Alix, sweetie. Please go check on your brother.

- Alix had quickly left Alya and Mari with her dad to go make sure her brother was alright

- Alya was a little bit surprised to learn that Alix has a brother but Mari already knew

- Alim smiled, stating that both siblings were very close with each other

- She found him in his room, forcing himself not to cry

Alix: Hey, it’s alright. Those dicks don’t know what they are talking about.

Jalil, with his head on his knees: They threw rocks at me. Said I wasn’t a real historian.

Alix: Exactly what I said. Dicks. They’re just jealous that they don’t get the same privileges you do!

- The butterfly was already sent out to akumatize him though, much to Alix’s panic as it landed in his pendent

- Alix desperately clung to her brother in an attempt to calm him down but it wasn’t enough and he was akumatized into Pharaoh

- Pharaoh was less of an ancient figure this time but more of an akumatized Jalil

- He still vaguely cared about Alix since she was just trying to help

- He didn’t try to hurt her, just looking at her for a moment before hugging her and leaving to hunt down his bullies

- She quickly transformed into Bunnix, rushing after him as time bubbles were thrown all over the area

- She had to stop herself from calling out her brothers name

- Marinette was still panicking and trying to find anything that looked like Ladybug on the papyrus to distract Alya when both were tackled down as yellow bubbles flew over them

Marinette: wHAT THE-

Bunnix: Sorry both of you, but you guys need to get out of here! It isn’t safe.

Alya, fangirling immediately: Bunnix!! Can I get an interview!?

Marinette: IS NOW REALLY THE TIME TO BE DOING THIS??

- Alya is recording already on the Ladyblog

- Adrien sees the livestream and immediately runs off to the Louvre to fight

- He was worried about how Alix would take fighting her brother though as that’s not the best thing for your mental health

- Bunnix is very much ready to kick Hawkmoth’s ass for taking advantage of her brother

- Also about the fact he fucked up the gods powers

- Alim is barely dodging time bubbles and since that’s her father, Bunnix took first priority in getting him to safety

Bunnix: Don’t worry, me and the team will save your son.

Alim: How did you know he’s my son?

Bunnix, sweating: Just a guess by how worried you look.

- Alim does think she looks awfully familiar to him but before he can get a better look she rushes off

- She really wanted to hug him, since she was terrified

- She’s a super hero but she’s still a 15 year old whose about to be forced to fight her brother

- Pharaoh isn’t focused on reviving anyone, as he mostly is after the people who made fun of him

- Bunnix is really reluctant on saving them and lets Pharaoh drag them around a little bit

- Ladybug bonked her on the head for that but honestly didn’t blame her

- When Chat arrived, Pharaoh had the bullies trapped in time bubbles and was throwing them around

- But he checked on Bunnix first

Chat Noir: Hey, do you wanna sit this one out? We completely understand if you don’t wanna fight him, since he’s your brother.

Bunnix: No, no it’s fine. I can handle it. Hopefully.

- Pharaoh eventually got bored of throwing his bullies around and threw them out of the area

- That’s when he started focusing on the hero’s

- He threw Ladybug around the exhibit like a rag doll for a little bit

- He was mostly interested in attacking Bunnix, much to her dismay

Pharaoh: With your abilities, I would be the best historian on Earth! Hand over your miraculous!

- Bunnix had run off momentarily to trigger the security gates, but that didn’t do much with his super strength being able to break them open

- He trapped them inside the Egyptian section and Chat had to use up his cataclysm to break out the bars

- Chat ran off for a little bit to detransform

- Pharaoh was already outside, gathering an army of mummies to attack them with

- Ladybug ended up getting stuck in another time bubble

- Bunnix may or may not have recorded it since she found it pretty damn funny

- Plagg was commenting on how Pharaoh should be worshipping Chat since most Egyptians saw cats as royalty

- Chat got back to Bunnix using her umbrella to break the bubble

Bunnix: I swear that I got cheated out of a weapon.

Chat: I mean, it’s a shield and a sword?

Bunnix: Never thought a yo-yo would be that good of a weapon to be honest. But proves me wrong I guess.

- Alya had to do a double take thinking that Ladybug was literally an ancient goddess after she saw it on the papyrus

- She wasn’t with Pharaoh she was back inside with Alim, still live streaming

- Bunnix already knew that it was just a past ladybug user since Marinette is not that old

Bunnix: Wow, you are immature for your age. *Gets bonked*

- Cue Chat snorting and casually flirting with both of them at once

- This is when Pharaoh ended up hearing them and used his shock waves

- Bunnix ended up huddled on the ground for a moment, ears flat against her head

- Chat’s ears were also flicking in annoyance but he wasn’t as bothered as she was at the noise

- Hawkmoth was already shouting quite loudly in Pharaoh’s ear to deafen them with his sound waves

- Pharaoh wasn’t very amused with this and snapped at him to shut up

- Ladybug didn’t really wanna make Bunnix attack her brother head on so she got her and Chat to distract the mummies

- The mummies didn’t really care about Bunnix however, as Pharaoh wanted her miraculous the most

- The repeated soundwaves were slowing her down a lot, making her disoriented and clumsy with the loud noises and ringing in her ears

- To her it sounded like multiple bangs going off all at the same time

- Luckily she stores her miraculous in a pocket so it’s harder for him to reach

- Both of her team mates had noticed this and told her to get back inside with burrow

Ladybug: Bunnix, get out of there now! This is too much for you!

- Thankfully for them she listened and hopped back inside the Louvre near Alim and Alya

- She was clearly distressed about this particular Akuma which was taken note of by Alya

- She still didn’t see much wrong with learning the identities of hero’s

- Seeing an upset child has triggered Alim’s parental instincts however, and he was trying his best to cheer her up while Ladybug and Chat continued fighting Pharaoh

- Alya was still live streaming, sitting next to Bunnix

- She really wanted to ask questions but since Bunnix didn’t seem to be feeling that well she didn’t prod

- But she did ask Bunnix if she knew where the Akuma was, to which she stated it was most likely in the pendent around his neck

- That’s when Alim realized that he had sent Alix after Jalil right before he was akumatized and panicked immediately and left to go to his apartment

- Alya of course followed after him since Alix is her friend and she wanted to make sure she wasn’t hurt

- Bunnix was cursing like a mad man because she couldn’t really be in two places at once and Alim didn’t want her to be left alone in case Pharaoh came back

- He was extremely worried when they got to the apartment and Alix wasn’t there

Alim, extremely worried: Alix?! Alix you can come out! It’s dad!

Alya, whose also trying to find her and recording: Alix? Are you here?

Bunnix, sweating: Maybe she’s a mummy?

- She wasn’t able to sneak away to detransform so she just has to make up some bullshit about why Alix might not be there

- Pharaoh still tossed Ladybug off the building

- Cue Alim and Bunnix swearing about Hawkmoth not getting the powers right

- Alim wasn’t expecting her to know that

Alim: Wait a minute- You know about this stuff?

Bunnix: …My power is time travel?

Alim: Fair.

- Ladybug jokingly being offended about being called an insect

- The bullies still have the nerve to insult an akuma and get thrown across Paris

- None of the hero’s really gave a shit because if your that dumb natural selection was coming for you anyways

Chat: Ok how can literally three piles of bandages shaped like humans pick up an entire car

- The screaming of the mummies sounded like they came from a horror movie and Bunnix hearing it even from that far was a big: Nope

- They almost got the pendent off of him but he used his sound waves again to blast them back

- Ladybug managed to dupe him by giving him the fake ladybug earrings and snatched his pendent

- Bunnix eventually had to leave the apartment to go detransform and went outside on the opposite side of the louvre, to pretend she was a mummy

- She ran to her brother as soon as possible, nearly crying from relief

- Alim soon joined them after coming outside

- They ended up taking it easy for the rest of the day, not leaving the apartment

- Alix’s ears were still ringing from all the soundwaves

- Jalil however, was a little suspicious

- He has mostly been in control when he was first akumatized as he was around Alix

- She had disappeared rather quickly not even chasing after him but Bunnix appearing very quickly

- He didn’t comment on it though, as he didn’t have enough proof to back it up

- On the other side of the city though, the bullies were cowering in terror as Nora stood over them, cracking her knuckles

- They came in the next day with broken noses and wrists

- But Jalil had caught the eye of a sculpture who went to his school, who had offered his condolences on being akumatized as he was one of the mummies, even giving him a small statue as a feel better gift

- Cue a mini crush starting up that will grow into a bigger one

- The Ladyblog had been commenting on Bunnix’s struggle with this Akuma

- But it was just left off with people assuming it was a hard Akuma since she was still pretty new and had less experience

[wandsandrings]

KACE PETERSON (really outdated)

 [template made by @hogwartsmysterystory​]

IDENTITY

Name: Kace “Kay” Peterson 

Gender: Male

Age: 17 (current) / 28 (MA)

Birth Date: 6th September 1972

Species: Human

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Sexuality: Homosexual / Homoromantic 

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (HM) / Neutral Good (MA)

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: Scottish

Residence: East Linton, Scotland (HM) / Hogsmeade, Scotland (MA)

THE MAGE  

1st Wand: Kind and encouraging. A reliable partner. Naiive but loyal.

> Acacia 

> 12″

> Swishy 

> Unicorn Hair Core

2nd Wand: Unyielding to all but it’s caster. Aged with each threat it overcame. A wise wand. 

> Blackthorn

> 11″

> Rigid 

> Unicorn Hair Core 

Animagus: Pomeranian 

Misc Magical Abilities: Seer

Boggart Form: Jacob (Years 1-5) / Rakepick (Years 5-7), “The Monster” (Years 7+)

Riddikulus Form: Jacob in mom’s dress / Dancing Rakepick / Dolphin 

Amortentia (scent): Heather and fresh-fallen rain

Amortentia (smells): Ink, Fresh Sawn Lumber, Parchment (Rowan Khanna), Mince Pie and Haggis

Patronus: Dog (previously), Aardvark (current)

Patronus Memory: Himself and Rowan stargazing at the farm / His first kiss 

Mirror of Erised: Himself, his brother and his friends happy together (HM) / An older, carefree, happy Maple (MA)

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

Lumos: It holds a special place in his heart by lighting up what he could not see.

Diffindo: His go-to attacking spell.

Accio: Useful for fetching things out of his reach. It’s pretty useful when you’re this short.

APPEARANCE 

> Left: HPHM ; Right: HPMA

Faceclaim: N/A

Voiceclaim: TBA

Game Appearance: 

Height: 5′2

Weight: 140lbs

Physique: Stocky

Eye Colour: Blue

Hair Colour: Ruby

Skin Tone: Tan

Body Modifications: N/A

Scarring: 

> Left forearm; a gash from fighting with the ice knight

> Torso; a large gash after being whipped by “the monster”’s tail.

> Right arm; burnt by the vault dragon

> Abdomen; hit with a spell while fighting Rakepick

> Chest; hit with a spell while fighting the assassin

> Left shoulder; hit with a spell while fighting Rakepick (again)

> Right thigh; splotches of a potion turning into an acidic disaster

Inventory:

> Kace’s Wand

> Horned Serpent Tooth Necklace

> Friendship Ring (Wedding Ring in MA)

ALLEGIANCES

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff 

Affiliations/Organizations: 

> Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

> Order Of The Pheonix 

Professions:

> Curse Breaker (1984 - 1991)

> Three Broomsticks Server + Cook (1991 - 2000)

> D.A.D.A Teacher (2000 - )

HOGWARTS INFORMATION

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: A Charms: O DADA: O Flying: E Herbology: A History of Magic: A Potions: A Transfiguration: E

Electives:

COMC: E

Muggle Studies: O

Quidditch: N/A

Extra Curricular: N/A

RELATIONSHIPS

Brother: Jacob Peterson

> 5 years older than Kace

> Hufflepuff

> Legilimen

> Roderic Ivory’s most recent (and last) re-incarnation

> Jacob is impulsive but strong-willed, never one to give up even at the toughest of times. He is also very protective of his younger brother, Kace. 

> After the Cursed Vaults are locked away, he briefly leaves to work as a curse-breaker overseas. Jacob returns for the second wizarding war to fight alongside his brother, and after he briefly becomes D.A.D.A teacher before he goes back overseas and the position is given to his brother. 

Father: Hunter Peterson

> Muggleborn

> Scottish

> 49 years old by 1991

> Ravenclaw

> A cunning, intelligent but serious man. When his eldest son went missing, Hunter tried to make sure his youngest would not go down the same path. This meant sometimes closely monitoring Kace to make sure he wouldn’t run away or try to hide anything from him like Jacob. When Hunter learns that Kace was also involved in the vaults, he was both outraged and afraid for his youngest son. However, he ends up supporting Kace when he sees how much of a capable wizard his son is.

Mother: Margot Peterson

> Half-blood

> American

> 48

> Used to be in Horned Serpent before becoming an exchange student at Hogwarts, where she was placed in Ravenclaw.

> A witty but devoted and careful mother. Once she found out Jacob had ran away, Margot was crushed, and doted on Kace to be careful, but also uncover the secrets and his brother’s whereabouts once and for all.

Love Interest: Rowan Khanna

> Kay started crushing on Rowan in year 2. Rowan started crushing on Kace at sometime in year 5.

> They confess to one another in year 6 when Rowan wakes up from his coma. However, both of them acknowledged they shouldn’t start a relationship at that moment. 

> They actually get together after Kace slays the vault monster, and have stayed together since.

> Kay proposed to Rowan in 1996, but they never got to have an official wedding.

> They adopt Maple at the end of the second wizarding war in 1998. They both try their best to give him guidance and make him happy. They become a very content and close family.

Adoptive Son: Maple Peterson Khanna

> Kay and Rowan adopted Maple in 1998 after the war.

> They are pretty close and Kay has bought gifts for him from the Muggle world in the past, such as his treasured game boy and Walkman, and even let Maple keep Crumpet as the family pet.

> Kay is somewhat obsessed with making sure Maple doesn’t go down the same road of obsession, self-sacrifice and trauma that he went through as a Hogwarts student. Because of this, he imposes some pretty standard rules, but also some weirder, very specific rules that Maple would purposely have to go out of his way to break (which he wouldn’t). He’s also more hesitant to tell Maple off when he gets into trouble because he believes Maple should have fun, which he barely got to do as a student. It’s up to Rowan to make sure that Maple actually follows the rules. Thankfully, Maple is an easy kid.

Best Friends:

> Talbott Winger

> Chiara Lobosca

> Tulip Karasu 

Rival:

>Merula Snyde

Enemy:

> Patricia Rakepick

> R

Dormmates: 

> Rowan Khanna

> Diego Caplan 

Pets:

> Bumpsy is an orange tabby cat Kay adopted in 1984 when he was just a kitten. 

> Crumpet is a spotted cream and brown crup. Maple found her in 1995 as a stray wandering around Hogsmeade, and the family decided to adopt her.

Closest Canon Friends:

> Rowan Khanna

> Talbott Winger

> Chiara Lobosca

> Tulip Karasu

> Bill Weasley

Closest MC Friends:

> Candy Vigiere ( @immagrosscandy​ )

> Paula Vigiere ( @immagrosscandy​ )

> Robert Flores ( @gayandvibin​ )

> Ryan Altman ( @young-avenger )

> Sarahi Silvers ( @dat-silvers-girl​ )

> Cato Reese ( @catohphm​ )

> Flavio Ceccere ( @sirfluffig​ )

> Luna ( @aaaaaagayghost​ )

Scarlet Bianchi ( @immagrosscandy )

BACKGROUND/HISTORY

PERSONALITY

> Devoted

Kay is very loyal and committed to what he does or those who have gained his trust and respect. He is not one to abandon others without great reason, and he is not known to give up on his goals and his journey, no matter who or what tries to stop him.

> Perceptive 

Kay has a skill to be able to read someone or a situation. For his own safety, he’s memorised the social cues of those he’s around with, and he can usually tell if something is wrong with someone. He is also able to tell if his surroundings are safe or not.

> Questioning

Kay is both curious and cautious. He’s grown rather doubtful over the years, and asks questions and spies on others. This is because he’s trying to make up for all the times he’s been lied to and used by making sure nobody is able to do this again to him. Whilst this can be good in ensuring his safety, it sometimes comes across as outright suspicious and, at worst, paranoid.

> Serious

Kay, over the years, has become a more serious person through his experiences. He doesn’t leave a lot of time for fun, which is the total opposite of how he was just two years ago. He thinks being serious is good; that nothing will be able to escape past his radar. However, this can have consequences on his social life, as he barely laughs or lets himself have some real fun with his friends... even if he wants to.

> Volatile 

Kay can be emotionally charged and get riled up over some small things. He might be completely calm one moment, and then act defensive and hostile the next. Over the time, his patience has worn into almost nothing, and he finds it hard to control his emotions. After he gets engaged to Rowan, he tries to curb his emotional outbursts, and has success in doing so.

> Obsessive

Kay is stubborn to the point of outright obsession at times. His obsession with the vaults, his brother and R was so controlling over his life he didn’t give himself time to be a real Hogwarts student until it was far too late. He never got to join any clubs, never took any extracurricular activities, and, even though he probably had skill for it, never even got to try Quidditch once. It was only when he was an adult did he realise just how damaging this was for him, and he wants to make absolutely sure that Maple does not go down the same path of obsession.

MISC

> He recognises words and sentences from very old or dead languages, or important places where his past lives have been before. However, remembering these places or words causes a ‘De ja vu’ effect and leaves him feeling very disoriented and confused afterwards. 

> Kay has a very Scottish accent, more specifically an Edinburgh accent. 

> He’s got really bad penmanship. Because of this, he often writes in capital letters to help both himself and others understand his writing.

> He is surprisingly knowledgeable in Muggle items. For example, his family own a television, and in Magic Awakened, he is shown to have knowledge in video game consoles and CDs enough to buy them for Maple and be able to enchant them so they always work around magic. This is most likely because he grew up in a very Muggle town and had Muggle friends, and his father is also a Muggleborn wizard.

[ritsunaru]

palettes and princesses

hi! here’s my entry for day 5 of @doubletroubleweek. it’s a bit unique, since it’s not a one shot, but a part 2 to my fic “feeling blue” on archive of our own. before you read this, please check out the first chapter on there! my username is estrellaaa. check the reblogs for a link! no trigger warnings for this fic but major spoilers for everything after season 2! if you haven’t watched season 4 i don’t know why you’d be reading double trouble fanfiction, but you never know ;) i hope you enjoy! 🦚

Double Trouble took their assignments very seriously. Well, as seriously as they could manage. The only thing that really mattered in the end was that the money ended up in their palm by the end of the job, and their gig as Prince Peekablue certainly paid the bills. In addition to imitating the handsome heir to the throne of Pavonia, they had crafted several all identities based on random Etherians to populate the stage. The poor stage manager never seemed to notice that only one of the performers was in the same room as him at any given time, and they received an individual paycheck as each person. Considering how little a non-Peekablue performer was paid, it wasn’t a lot, but they made enough.

Unfortunately, they had been caught by the princesses and effectively held captive until the war was over. Scorpia of course had to sting them (despite all they had been through with the Horde and their mutual abandonment of Catra), and for some reason they, of all Etherians, had to react abnormally to it. They wanted to reconcile with her, but it was really their fault that she had been chipped in the first place. However, it wasn’t all that bad back in the reimagined outpost, and they were protected from the threat of being chipped (although the princesses argued that it was because they would be too dangerous in the hands of Prime)—but they were a wanderer, and rejoiced when the war had ended if not only because they would be freed.

With the royalty on Bright Moon, however, things were never so simple. In order to repay the time and people lost due to their mimicry at the Enchanted Grotto, Queen Sparkles had ordered them to track down the real Peekablue and bring him back to her castle. There was no time frame, but they would be required to check in nightly with the “Best Friends Squad,” consisting of the aforementioned Sparkles, Blondie, and Bow. Kitten had been invited, considering her and Blondie had finally become a thing, but she declined for obvious reasons. Thankfully, they had some basis for the Prince’s whereabouts. Locals reported seeing a hooded figure within Pavonia’s borders (it was technically a territory of Plumeria at the time, but Double Trouble didn’t care to get into the intricacies of land division). Sparkles seemed convinced that it was who they were looking for, and even if they disagreed, they were at her mercy.

The first week of their stay in Pavonia consisted almost entirely of observation, perfecting disguises of several locals to blend in while they got into the more active portion of the quest. Double Trouble managed to catch a glimpse of a cloaked citizen running into some secluded doorway but ultimately decided to wait a few days before breaking into someone’s living space unattended. They likely only had the one shot at identifying Peekablue; otherwise, they could be arrested for breaking and entering. Technically, Sparkles’ very mission encouraged crime, but she wouldn’t like having to bail them out.

A few more days of observation and Double Trouble had concluded that no normal Pavonian citizen wore a cloak around during their daily tasks. This left them with only one suspect, and they had to make their move when the door was still unlocked. Peekablue didn’t usually go out, except for when he purchased food from time to time, leaving few opportunities to strike. The shifter remained vigilant, however, functioning on small amounts of sleep and finally spotting the prince as he returned from a late night haul.

He looked almost panicked, checking the surrounding area to see if anyone was watching before unlocking the door. Clearly, he was still paranoid. Did he even know that the war was over? The chances were slim, but that wasn’t important right now. They shifted back into their true form, nearly breaking their ankle upon landing. Cobblestone paths really did not work with three-inch heels, but fashion is fashion. The door was ever so slightly ajar, and Double Trouble opened it as quietly as they could muster, which elicited an atrocious creak.

The figure turned as soon as the door made a sound, eyes widening as he backed against the nearest wall. Definitely Peekablue.

“Please don’t kill me, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt me!” the prince shouted, squinting and rummaging around on his bed for something. His voice grew softer, more desperate. “Please.”

The shapeshifter looked around, taking in the sight before them. The missing Prince Peekablue, long blue locks tied into a messy ponytail and wearing an oversized tunic. Upon closer inspection, he was trying to grab a pair of glasses. His living space wasn’t terribly messy, but there was barely anything there, just the essentials. He certainly had deteriorated since their last meeting.

Before doing anything, Double Trouble picked up the glasses and clunkily positioned them on the seer’s face. Once he recognized who they were, he certainly would stop resisting. Perhaps he would even greet them with a smile. They were still waiting on that next Princess Prom, which had been graciously awarded to Frosta as retribution for what had happened with the Horde at her first ball. Scorpia had been promised the one after that, but that was long in the future, and they didn’t like planning ahead.

Much to the shifter’s shock, the prince only struggled further, shoving them away and blushing a deep violet. “Get your hands off of me!” That certainly wasn’t the reaction they were hoping for, but they could work with it. That was one of the many things they prided themself on—masking their true emotions in favor of a very convincing facade—so they plastered a smirk on their face and set to molding this interaction, an artist in their own right.

“Darling, really, you live like this? I would’ve expected better from the prince of Pavonia—but then again, you aren’t really the prince of anything anymore, are you?” Double Trouble made themself comfortable on the edge of his bed, watching as he finally caught up with the situation. It was a little amusing, seeing him so disoriented, but it wasn’t like he would normally be any more sociable. The old man glasses suited him, though.

“Wait, you?” Peekablue finally made out the intruder, and it was definitely not who he was expecting. Why would Double Trouble want to see him again? All he did was waste their time at Princess Prom years ago. Not to mention the rampant identity theft he had witnessed on their part. “How did you even find me here? Show me your neck.”

The reptile burst into a theatrical laugh, throwing their head back. “Oh, haven’t you heard? Big Brother took a tumble. Whole empire’s gone. I heard She-Ra used all that new magic to plant some trees around the ships. Oh, and Blondie finally got together with Kitten. Did you see them at Princess Prom? I have no idea how they couldn’t realize earlier.”

Peekablue stood still for what felt like hours. The war was over, Horde Prime had been defeated, and he was still here? As for “Blondie” and “Kitten,” those names had no significance to him. He figured that was a question for a later date. There were more pressing matters to attend to. “Why are you here? To kidnap me for ransom?”

That same laugh chimed through the room, and the prince felt his heart melt. “Oh, not exactly. I’m on assignment from Bright Moon. Repayment for my war crimes. Sparkles wanted me to find where you were hiding and bring you back to Bright Moon. I’m getting paid, so I suppose you could call this kidnapping for ransom. No need to worry, darling, I treat my captives well. But if we’re going to be bringing you to an audience before the Queen, we have got to deal with all of this.” Double Trouble gestured vaguely at the man before them.

“You’re supposed to be kidnapping me.” The gravity of the situation finally sunk in, and Peekablue’s heart rate spiked almost instantly. “Just get it over with. Please.”

Double Trouble raised an eyebrow. “Me-ow. I didn’t think you would’ve developed a death wish in solitary.” The prince scrunched his face defiantly, but the shifter didn’t budge. “Let me make this clear. If you want to have an audience with Sparkles, you have to let me make you look presentable. To be considered a prince, you have to look like one, and I have to say, solitary chic really isn’t working for you.”

“What are you going to do if I say no?”

“Darling, no isn’t an option. Now, where do you keep all of your things? We have a lot of work to do.”

Peekablue didn’t like the idea of Double Trouble wielding a pair of scissors near his neck and face, but they were insistent. What did he have left to lose? They were the only one who had bothered to check in on him, and they hadn’t threatened him at all. “How do I know I can trust you?” 

“You can’t, darling. That’s the fun part.” The shifter worked gently, far more gently than the prince would’ve imagined. They seemed to know what they were doing. Perhaps that was something they had learned from their shapeshifting—the delicate intricacies of the body, the exact way the vocal cords of a person develop their voice, the way that the composition of muscle contributed to strengths and weaknesses in combat. Any other person and he would’ve been squirming in his seat, but Double Trouble had an almost soothing presence. He didn’t think they would try to hurt him.

Peekablue felt a significant amount of weight drop off of the back of his head and flinched the slightest bit. He had asked Double Trouble to go for the haircut he had at Princess Prom, but the actual experience was something different, and it was far more significant than they would probably ever know. He was finally going to see other people. He was going to be a prince again. He could see Perfuma and ask Scorpia what had happened before the Fright Zone had fallen. If the Horde was gone, would that mean that she was restored the control of her kingdom? By turning back to Princess Prom, could he repair the damage he had done?

“Hey, uh—thank you. For this. You really didn’t have to.” The seer turned back to look Double Trouble in the eyes. “I know I’m the prince everyone’s given up on, but...I want to make things right with everyone. Hiding was wrong.”

The shapeshifter flinched, pupils widening and refusing to meet his gaze. For as much as they shopped around when it came to finding a partner, the idea of genuine intimacy was one they were wildly out of touch with. It was commitment, and when they chose their profession, it was the first thing they had let go of. “Yeah, well, you enjoy that. I’ll probably head back to the Waste once I deliver you to Sparkles anyway. There’s nothing left for me in Bright Moon.”

Something shifted on Peekablue’s face, but Double Trouble couldn’t pinpoint it. He shook his head, turning back and standing up. “I can do my own makeup.”

The shapeshifter watched as he worked, erasing the dark circles under his eyes and practically becoming someone else entirely. “Believe me, darling, I know.” They hadn’t really bothered learning how to do makeup, considering their abilities, but he was likely just as good at replicating a face as they were. He had gone from an exhausted disaster who hadn’t seen people in years to someone who could pass for royalty, all with just a few creams and powders. Blue finished with that same shade of lavender lipstick and a pair of contact lenses and stood, shoulders rising as he inhaled sharply.

Wordlessly, he walked to the closet, pulling out the infamous outfit and making his way to a separate room. This was it. Put on a leotard and a jacket and it would be like nothing had happened.

He wished it was that easy. He had a lot to fix. He would probably never be the same person he was before all of this. Peekablue eyed the binder staring back at him from the other side of the room, weighing his options. On the one hand, Double Trouble had said that he needed to look like a prince for his audience with Princess Glimmer (he assumed that was the identity of “Sparkles”). On the other hand, he hadn’t worn his binder in years, and he didn’t really feel uncomfortable without it. What were the rules for this kind of thing? Turning away from the binder, he dressed in the outfit, finishing with his shoes and holding the jacket in his hand as if it would disappear the moment he let go. What was he waiting for?

Prince Peekablue pulled his arms through the sleeves, smoothing out any wrinkles. That was who he was again. A prince. He stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him, turning to Double Trouble.

A blush rose up and covered Double Trouble’s face, and they didn’t even attempt to hide it. For the first time in years, the shapeshifter was rendered speechless. It was like nothing had changed, and they were just going to continue their conversation. The Horde wouldn’t have shown up, and they could have maybe shared a dance.

Neither of them spoke on the walk through the shadows of Plumeria and back to Bright Moon. By some miracle, Blue’s jacket wasn’t torn to shreds by briars, and after a trek through the foliage, they stood on a ledge looking out on Bright Moon Palace. The prince instinctively grabbed for Double Trouble’s hand, and despite their initial reaction, they didn’t let go. The two walked across the bridge, grip tight and steps succinct, arriving at the doors after what had felt like an eternity. Double Trouble confirmed their identities and led him through a labyrinth of hallways, stopping only before what Peekablue knew was the throne room.

Double Trouble pulled him close, whispering, “You still remember how to address royalty?” The prince had to stop himself from laughing. He doubted that they would even consider using formalities, regardless of the stature of the person they were speaking with.

Prince Peekablue rounded the corner, dipping into a low bow and holding for three seconds before raising his head to gaze upon the throne.

“Your Highness–” he rasped, managing to maintain his composure despite the difficulty breathing he was experiencing. “Queen... Glimmer. My condolences.”

“Thank you, Prince Peekablue. Thank you, Double Trouble. You’re dismissed now.” Without any sort of formalities, the shapeshifter complied, sauntering off and leaving him alone to face the younger woman. “Prince Peekablue. How do you intend to answer for your inaction during the war against the Horde?”

“By putting all I… all I have into my kingdom. I’d like to… strengthen our trade agreements with Salineas and Bright Moon, and I’d like to assist Plumeria in whatever way Princess Perfuma requires. I’d also like to offer my services to other kingdoms, to protect against any unprecedented threats. That is, with your consent, your majesty.” The prince took another deep breath. Glimmer was younger than him, but she also had more power and was far more intimidating. “I think I could be of help to the Princess Alliance… if you’d let me join. Hiding was cowardly, but I choose to do everything I can to help Etheria from this moment on.”

Glimmer’s stern gaze broke, and a smile took the place of her frown. She stood from her seat, stepping down the miniature platforms and approaching him. She stuck out a hand, and he accepted it, shaking gently. “Thanks, Peekablue. We really need you.”

[joochansimp]

Wanted | Chapter Two

> synopsis: a ‘vampire knight’ inspired fic in which the human reader goes to a prestigious university, home to both humans and vampires. she catches the attention of a group of vampires and chaos ensues. > genre: fantasy, angst, fluff, uni, very crack & au. also very indulgent lol > pairing: readerxjuyeon, readerxrowoon, readerxseonghwa, readerxjaehyun (it is complicated... KJSDHFKSJ) (also more pairings/characters might be added later) > warnings: descriptions of blood, mild wounds, memory loss, manipulative behaviour sometimes.  > words: 3.1k > previous chapters: chapter 1 > people who have asked to be tagged: @mango-bear

‘’Nice to meet you, princess.’’

The raspy yet smooth voice almost made you melt. You now knew it was a male, though other than that you had no indication of knowing his identity—especially since you hadn’t met any male vampires yet. You weren’t sure what to say to him, your breath stuck in your throat and your hands clutching onto your skirt from the nerves. You had your eyes squeezed shut, adrenaline rushing through your body.

‘’Your scent is…abnormally attractive,’’ he continued as he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, his lips now connecting with your skin as well. He placed his hand on the other side of your neck with enough pressure to keep you in place should you move, though not so firmly that it hurt. He brushed his thumb over the nape of your neck, giving you goosebumps all over your body. His lips pressed against a sensitive spot on your neck that you didn’t know you had, and you nearly gasped when you felt what had to be his tongue gently brush over your soft skin.

‘’Breathe, princess…’’ he murmured against your skin in little more than a whisper, and you tried to do what he said, though that was a lot harder than he made it sound. You took a deep breath and let go of the hem of your skirt in an attempt to relax your body, and you felt his lips smile against your skin.

‘’That’s it…’’ he encouraged, and you felt his lips part. You held your breath, knowing that this was where he would bite you, when—

You nearly jumped out of your seat when the door behind you flung open and the vampire’s touch disappeared from your body, all within one second. You almost fell forward but you managed to keep your balance, gripping onto the seat. You heard a loud thud accompanied by a groan and you wanted to turn around to look what was going on, but you found yourself frozen in place.

‘’What the hell do you think you’re doing,’’ an unknown voice demanded angrily, to which the other one scoffed, and from the sound of it he got back to his feet.

‘’Get out,’’ the newcomer ordered the other, and with a light woosh, the vampire who had almost bitten you disappeared from the room, pulling the door closed behind him. It was silent for a few seconds, and you began to wonder whether both vampires had left the room, but that suspicion died when you heard footsteps behind you.

‘’Sorry about that. He…wasn’t supposed to be in here,’’ the new voice explained to you.

‘’It’s alright,’’ you said back, surprised at your ability to talk at this point. You felt his presence behind you and lightly jolted when the vampire placed his hand on your shoulder.

‘’Easy…’’ he told you softly, and strangely enough it actually had a calming effect on you.

‘’I want you to feel comfortable…don’t be afraid.’’

As if a switch had flipped, you felt the fear in your stomach disappear and your muscles relax. You should feel afraid, especially after the dispute that had just happened, and if not that, you should at least feel alarmed about not being afraid, but your body and mind refused. You were calm, you were comfortable.

You felt his breath on your neck and without a warning, you felt the sting of two sharp teeth breaking the delicate skin. A soft gasp escaped your lips but you remained relaxed in your seat. Opposite from what you had feared, a euphoric feeling slowly spread from your neck through your entire body. You remained comfortably on the stool, your head tilted to the side a bit and your eyes closed, as the vampire pressed his lips against your skin and lightly sucked at the two small wounds he had created.

You felt the blood leave your body, but you didn’t cringe. Your breath remained steady, your heart beat at a normal pace, and the comforting hand on your shoulder, which was now placed on your neck as to keep you steady, all made you believe that donating blood wasn’t really that bad of an experience. In fact, you might have been inclined to call it pleasurable. Your body felt warm, your mind slightly clouded, as if you were in a warm bath, in the half conscious state after just waking up when everything is still peaceful and you don’t remember anything except how comfortable you’re feeling. If this was what it was going to be like, it would be a breeze.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when the vampire pulled away and pressed his thumb gently over the two small punctures in your neck, making you wince slightly. You felt him reach out to the table and grab a band aid, which he skillfully placed over the two dots on your neck.

‘’There…’’ he said as he stepped away from you, and now that his touch was gone, you realized that you had gone a bit dizzy.

‘’Steady… the nurses will give you something to get your strength back.’’

There was something about his voice that soothed you, though you weren’t sure whether it was because his voice was sweet like honey or if it was something more magical.

‘’Until next time,’’ he added, and you could have sworn you heard him smile as he said it, and just as quickly as he had entered the room, he left again. You sat in silence for a few seconds, when the lights slowly turned on, allowing your eyes to adjust. You blinked a few times, then got up from the chair. You were steady, but a bit woozy, and you rubbed your eyes before walking out of the room.

‘’You alright, dear?’’ a nurse asked you as she walked over to you. You squinted your eyes a little, disoriented slightly by the loss of blood and the daylight that shone through the wall that was made up entirely out of windows as tall as the room itself.

‘’Your blood pressure was a bit uneven at the beginning, though not alarming or even uncommon,’’ the nurse added as she pressed a cookie into your hand.

‘’Yeah I’m fine,’’ you replied honestly. You felt fine. The first few minutes had been strange, to say the least, though the rest of the experience had made up for it.

‘’Oh good,’’ the nurse smiled, satisfied. ‘’If you’d please take a seat with the others, your class representative will escort you to your dorms shortly.’’

You sat next to your classmate Lia, who had just donated blood as well, and absentmindedly took a bite of your cookie. The sweetness felt good on your tongue and you could almost feel it giving you a bit of your strength back.

‘’Did it hurt?’’ Lia asked.

‘’A little bit, though not as much as I expected it to,’’ you replied. ‘’And after that I didn’t feel a thing anymore. How about you?’’

‘’Mine did…I think it was because I was so nervous. The girl who drank from me kept telling me to relax, but I couldn’t help it. Only at the end did it start feeling better.’’

You thought about what the vampire had said to you. He had told you to be comfortable and not to be afraid, and that’s exactly what had happened. Were they really just words? The other girl hadn’t been affected by her vampire’s words of comfort, so why had you? Were you just that impressionable?

‘’Alright, that was everyone. Please follow me to your dorms, you will have the rest of the day to get your strength back. Normally feeding takes place in the evenings, so that you have the evening and night to recuperate, but as today was your first day, the schedule has been flipped a little,’’ Changmin informed the group. The friendly second year student was growing on you. He was like a steady factor of little tips and tricks on how to survive vampire school.

You smiled a little to yourself at the inside joke you just made, earning a few weird glances from your classmates, though you didn’t mind. You got up with the others and followed Changmin back to your dorms, where you immediately crawled into bed, not even bothering to get out of your uniform, to get some highly needed shut-eye.

~

‘’What the hell did you put that stunt for?’’ Rowoon asked the black haired vampire who sat before him on the leather couch. Rowoon intentionally ignored the little voice in his head asking him why he was so protective over this human girl, and focused on the third year instead.

‘’I changed my mind, wanted to give feeding from the vein another try,’’ Juyeon smirked as he leaned back, placing his arms on the backrest of the couch. ‘’Why do you care so much anyway?’’

‘’You know why,’’ Rowoon said, knowing for a fact that Juyeon knew what he meant. It had been her scent. It didn’t happen often, but once in a while a human would come along that simply smelled so good, they practically made all vampires crave their blood. He had felt it, he knew that Juyeon had felt it, he knew that Seonghwa, San and even Jaehyun had all felt it.

‘’Still. You had no right to walk in on us like that. You can’t claim her,’’ Juyeon challenged him as he got up from the couch. Rowoon slightly squinted his eyes at the defiant tone of the younger vampire.

‘’You would have killed her. I did you a favor.’’

‘’You just want her all to yourself, don’t you? Well, next time-‘’

‘’Oh there isn’t going to be a next time.’’

‘’Gentlemen…’’ Jaehyun interrupted the two vampires, who were now directly facing each other, so close that Jaehyun could barely step in between the two of them.

‘’I think that’s enough,’’ he soothed the two, placing his hands on their chests and gently pushing them back. Juyeon chuckled softly and walked away to join Seonghwa and San, who were seated on another couch in the room. Rowoon pushed Jaehyun’s hand away, but Jaehyun grabbed his wrist in return. The two locked eyes and Rowoon knew immediately what Jaehyun’s stern eyes were demanding.

Stay calm. Stay in control.

Rowoon gave him the slightest nod with his head, and Jaehyun let go of his wrist in return.

‘’Boys, boys, boys…you can cut the tension in this room with a knife,’’ a female voice remarked, causing all five vampires to look up.

‘’Ah, Seungyeon. I was starting to wonder when you’d show up,’’ Rowoon said with false hostility, causing the female vampire to smile.

‘’I know you can’t go a day without me.’’

The other vampires chuckled at her joke and Rowoon merely rolled his eyes.

‘’Please tell me you did actually spend time apart over the summer,’’ Jaehyun inquired, though with an interested smirk on his face.

‘’Of course, I couldn’t sit around and babysit Rowoon all day,’’ Seungyeon scoffed. “Besides, at this point I’m pretty sure that we’re both in control enough that Mr. Kim doesn’t need us to keep an eye on each other the whole time anymore.

It so happened that when a human wanted to become a vampire, they couldn’t just be turned and get on with it. They had to be chosen by a highly valued member of the vampire community to be ‘’adopted’’ into their coven. Usually these vampires only choose one human every few years to turn, though in Rowoon and Seungyeon’s case, they had both been chosen by the rich business man, mister Kim, with only a year between them, and had developed what could best be described as a brother/sister bond as they went through transition around the same time.

‘’Do you want me to fight you?’’ Rowoon demanded, making Seungyeon laugh.

‘’Ha! We both know who would win, anyway,’’ she smirked.

‘’Please, I just broke up a fight already. Surely I don’t have to teach you manners, too, Seungyeon?’’ Jaehyun pleaded, though the amusement was thick in his voice.

‘’You’re right. I’m above all that squabbling nonsense,’’ she said as she sat herself down next to Seonghwa, pulling out a small bottle filled with a red liquid.

‘’I still can’t believe you willingly drink that,’’ Seonghwa said, shaking his head as he eyed the bottle.

‘’Of course you don’t, if you understood why I did, you wouldn’t drink human blood,’’ she said back with a sweet smile, before downing the synthetic blood. San snorted, highly amused with the level of sass Seungyeon never failed to dish when she addressed the other vampires, and dodged a pillow that Seonghwa threw at him in return.

‘’Now now, is that a way to speak to your brothers?’’ Seonghwa asked innocently, referring to the term Seungyeon often used for all five of them, though right now Seungyeon simply rolled her eyes.

‘’Don’t siblings bicker?’’ she defended herself.

‘’Fair enough,’’ Seonghwa chuckled.

‘’So anyway. Did I just walk in on you two fighting over some human?’’ Seungyeon asked, averting her attention to Rowoon and Juyeon now.

‘’Not just some human. This one smelled amazing from across the courtyard,’’ San elaborated.

‘’Ahh...,’’ Seungyeon mused, intrigued by the whole situation.

‘’It’s nothing worth talking about,’’ Rowoon said in an attempt to stop the conversation, and surprisingly enough it worked. He had no interest in talking about her with them. He wanted to keep her to himself, and if he could he would claim her immediately. Because her blood had been the best thing he had ever tasted.

~

‘’Huh. That’s really strange. My session was fine, exactly how they describe what being bitten is like. I felt like I was floating. I didn’t even feel dizzy at all afterwards.’’

You put your steaming cup of tea down and studied Jeno, who sat across from you at the table in the dining room. It was pretty late, and you would be heading to bed soon, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep early anyway so you and Jeno had gone down to the hall to have some tea and talk about your first donating experiences.

‘’You don’t even look like you donated blood,’’ you snorted, shaking your head slightly. Your dizziness had subsided after you had taken a short nap after dinner and all that was left now was a mild headache, which you had been told was normal.

‘’It’s probably because you’re so tall. You have more blood than me,’’ you speculated out loud, at which Jeno chuckled.

‘’You actually might have a point there,’’ he agreed. You both sat in comfortable silence, which was something you both liked a lot, you had learned today.

‘’Did you hear about those abilities?’’ Jeno asked, breaking the silence after a while.

‘’Abilities?’’ you repeated.

‘’Yeah, the vampires. They all have these… special abilities when they become vampires.’’

You raised your eyebrows in question. ‘’You mean like really fast speed, all that kind of stuff?’’

‘’Well, that too,’’ he nodded, ‘’but the unique ones. You never wondered why some of those vampires are so popular?’’

You had to admit that you didn’t even know which vampires he was talking about. You hadn’t talked to many people and you had spent a lot of your time sleeping already on your first day.

‘’Alright, well most newborn vampires get a special ability, like being able to detect body heat or something else useful for vampiric survival. Some, though, get these very rare and in my opinion, really awesome abilities. You know that third year representative, Jaehyun, for example? Telekinesis. How cool is that?’’ Jeno gushed, and you had to chuckle at his enthusiasm.

‘’That does sound pretty cool…how is it decided how you get what ability though?’’ you asked.

‘’Nobody decides it, you just wake up as a vampire and you will have one, or if you’re lucky, two abilities. Some are very rare, others are very common. The group I mentioned earlier, the most popular vampires in school, basically, have the rarest abilities. I think they choose who gets to hang out with them based on their abilities… Another one of them, Seonghwa, produces actual venom. I think he can control whether or not he uses it when he bites someone, but to me that’s a pretty impressive ability.’’

‘’How do you know all this,’’ you askes, as you were certain no teacher had mentioned any of this before.

‘’Oh, you know. Word in the hallways. Gossip travels fast here. Like how Kim Rowoon and Lee Juyeon fought over who could drink from you.’’

You felt your body stiffen and you sat up more straight.

‘’People are saying that?’’

‘’Oh yeah, pretty much everyone is talking about it. You do know who Rowoon and Juyeon are, right?’’

‘’Should I…?’’ you ask hesitantly, suddenly feeling stupid for knowing so little while Jeno already seemed to know so much.

‘’They’re part of that group. Rowoon is pretty much the most popular guy in school. He has all the girls swooning over him, and if there are girls who aren’t pining for him, they’ll have their eye on one of the others in his group.’’

Your mind was swimming with all of this new information. Rowoon. Juyeon. Fight. Gossip. Before you left for Sagong Academy you had fantasized many times about what your first day would be like, but this sure as hell hadn’t been one of your made up scenarios.

‘’Holy sh—‘’ Jeno started to say, but he stopped himself. You looked up at him and saw that his eyes were fixated on something behind you. When you turned around, your eyes fell upon a grey, tailored blazer with orange details, right behind you. You nearly jump and quickly look up to identify the person standing behind you. He had voluminous, deep red hair which was parted on the side, a mischievous look in his eyes and a contagious smile.

‘’Hello there,’’ the student greeted you, and it took a moment for you to reply. What was it with these vampires who kept approaching you?

‘’Hello…’’ you replied, smiling up at the boy.

‘’I have a message for you,’’ he continued, holding out a golden rimmed envelope. You took it from him.

‘’Thank you…’’ you said, trailing off into silence as you didn’t know his name yet.

‘’San,’’ he said, to which you nodded with a smile.

‘’Thank you San.’’

‘’My pleasure,’’ he said, smiling at you with a light bow. In the blink of an eye, San had disappeared again, and you turned back to look at Jeno.

‘’That was…weird,’’ you said, inspecting the envelope.

“Extremely… you really seem to attract them, huh,” Jeno said, tilting his head to the side a little. 

Ignoring his comment, you looked down at the envelope again and opened it. You pulled out a white card with elegant looking handwriting.

Dear Y/N,

Please meet me at the gardens, Friday evening at 8:00.

[starwarsfic]

Gai'se bal Mande 1: Alpha-17

Originally posted September 4, 2020

Summary: There's one basic fact of the galaxy that lots of people agree on: Qui-Gon Jinn does not deserve to raise Obi-Wan.

Details: Alpha-17 & Obi-Wan. Time Travel AU. Mandalore Mission AU. For the Punch Qui-Gon and Adopt Obi-Wan challenge.

xxxxxx

Death came in battle, it was all that Alpha-17 could hope for.

That it was battle against the Vod'e, the younger siblings he'd raised and trained and who'd gone suddenly, horrifying blank-faced before turning on the Jedi around them, left something to be desired.

He thought of the ones off Kamino, legions of Vod'e that could very well be doing exactly the same thing. Trusted--some even loved--by the Jedi around them.

He thought of Kote. And how he'd entrusted him with Obi-Wan.

His heart ached.

And then he hit the water, the impact knocking him out, the current sucking him under, and stopped thinking.

***

Alpha-17 came awake with a gasp. He hadn't expected to come awake at all, so he did as he had been trained to and accessed the situation before allowing any signs of waking. He was lying on grass, somewhere with moderate temperature on the cold side. There were at least two people in the immediate vicinity, he could smell the faintest fumes of blaster fire but not hear any of the telltale sounds of armor.

"Hey, are you okay?" The voice was on the young side, the words were Mando'a, the accent familiar--achingly familiar, he realized.

He opened his eyes and a too-young version of Obi-Wan was leaning over him, staring down at him. Was this the afterlife? Were one of the religions that said there was some sort of 'heaven' after death right? But he'd think he'd be staring into Obi-Wan's face as he'd been when they first met, that those eyes would be alight with recognition.

This...this kid was younger than a shiny and definitely didn't recognize him. He had the telltale Padawan haircut, which looked somehow extra ridiculous and extra adorable on his fluffy red hair. He wasn't wearing robes, though, instead dressed like some sort of spacer.

Beside him was a girl, a little older than him, light colored hair and--oh.

Oh.

The Duchess. His General and the Duchess.

"What--what year is this?"

The two exchanged looks, clearly concerned for him. "You fell out of the sky, there aren't any ships around. Whatever happened to you--you're disoriented."

"I'm not," Alpha-17 insisted, sitting up and inspecting himself.

The blaster marks were there on his armor, but the wounds were gone. His bucket was missing, too, but that was probably for the best--the armor he might be able to pass off as Mandalorian style, but he couldn't do that with the helmet.

Neither of them recognized him--neither of them would have seen Jango Fett before, he didn't think. How old would Jango have been right now? Would they be too close in age and looks to risk showing his face?

He spared a moment to think about tracking him down, it wouldn't be hard to get a slip on him, he wouldn't be expecting anyone to know as much about his skillset as Alpha-17 did.

"It's 7938 CRC," Padawan Obi-Wan finally says, watching Alpha-17 for a reaction.

"Right, that scans," he stated, in acknowledgement, remembering his General liked that sort of thing. "I want you to reach out with your Force banthashit, and ask it if the next thing I say is true or not." Obi-Wan's eyes widen and, after another quick look at Kryze, he nods. "I'm from the future."

Kryze lets out a disbelieving noise. Obi-Wan, who'd been crouching beside him, falls flat on his ass, still staring. He believed him, then. That made things slightly easier.

"Duchess, you're dead. I'm dead, or was. You...Obi-Wan, you probably are, too. There was a war," before Kryze could say anything about how there was currently a war, he waved a hand, "a galactic wide war. Lots of people died. If I'm back here, now...it's so we can prepare for it."

All through his words, Obi-Wan's eyes hardened, his face chilling into the determined look Alpha-17 recognized from battle. He'd been in battle, he realized, now, and before now, even. He'd said as much when they'd talked about his past. Obi-Wan might be missing a few decades of experience, but he wasn't missing his earlier knowledge of warfare.

"You believe him?"

"The Force is--it's hard to explain, Sat'ika. It's ringing with truth all around him, screaming at me to believe him."

Kryze had the resigned look of someone who had worked with a Jedi for long enough to know they were all completely crazy and also actually did have mysterical powers.

"Fine." She stood up a little straighter, looking down at him with an air of authority at odds with her dirty spacer disguise. "What's the plan, then?"

***

He told them enough, Obi-Wan confirmed anything with the Force that Kryze thought was just too unbelievable. It wasn't hard, after that, to get their help tracking down Jango (Alpha-17 remembered just enough about his stories to have a good guess of where he might be) and, even though neither of them seemed too hot about it, killing him.

Taking his identity felt creepy, but they needed it--the Duchess of the New Mandalorians and the Mand'alor of the traditionalists working together? Yeah, they needed that.

And if anyone noticed the gaps in "Jango's" memory, well, there was a lot of trauma there. No surprise he'd repress most of his old life.

Eventually Jinn tracked them down, too, clearly not knowing what to make of the fact his charge had gone so far off the rails she'd allied with a missing political rival.

Definitely no one was surprised that "Jango" didn't want a Jedi involved in anything (Obi-Wan didn't count, of course, but there were lots of reasons people could give for that), and he blocked him out of their planning meetings.

Frustrated and petty, Jinn drew Obi-Wan away just a day after they all reached Sundari. "I...suppose our work here is done, then. Padawan, it's time to return to Coruscant."

"So you can send him off alone in another warzone?" Alpha-17 challenged and the people around them tensed in anticipation, knowing how much "Jango" liked the apprentice. "Let him starve for a few more months when he's supposed to be growing?"

Jinn's eyes flashed with anger, his expression reminding Alpha-17 of Anakin--who'd been nineteen, not some old man entrusted with raising multiple kids. It was impossible to believe this guy raised someone like Obi-Wan Kenobi, though he figured that was because Obi-Wan mostly raised himself.

"Obi-Wan is my Padawan learner, as his Master--"

"You're supposed to take care of him, not treat him like a neglected strill that will keep obedient because it doesn't know better."

"Jango," Obi-Wan tried to interrupt, but Alpha-17 shot him a look and he backed down and shuffled away, Satine gripping his arm, both seeming more curious than concerned.

Maybe it was Obi-Wan's easy obedience towards Alpha-17 or maybe it was the protective anger Jinn was feeling in the Force, but he stepped forward, looking down at Alpha-17 like his height was something to be intimidated by and not just a quirk of genetics.

Alpha-17 had spent too long dealing with the longnecks to give a shit about Qui-Gon Jinn being taller.

"Our mission is over, Mand'alor," the title was hissed in displeasure, "and it is time to return to our home."

Alpha-17 turned towards Obi-Wan, whose eyes were wide. They'd discussed this--the need to prepare Mandalore for what was to come, the fact that the Republic, the Jedi Order, couldn't be as ready. He took a breath, let it out steadily, as he did when he was releasing emotions in the Force. Then he nodded.

"Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad," Alpha-17 stated, the room erupting into chaos as "Jango Fett" adopted a child.

Jinn clearly didn't know what that meant, but knew there was some significance. He strode forward and, instead of stopping in front of Obi-Wan to speak to him as Alpha-17 had been expecting, he grabbed Obi-Wan's arm.

"We're going, now, Padawan."

He didn't get more of a tug in before Alpha-17's fist landed cleanly in his kidney. Letting out a wheeze, the older Jedi stumbled away, Obi-Wan just managing to get out of his grip. Satine was whispering frantically to him, glaring at Jinn as she did, probably telling Obi-Wan how unacceptable Jinn's move had been even if Obi-Wan had been conditioned to think that was alright.

"You're leaving, Jinn. And you're not taking my son with you."

The Mandalorians around them weren't the Vod'e, would never be as close or know him as truly, but they were still Mando'ade, and quickly filled in the space to block Obi-Wan from Jinn's view as he turned his attention back to them.

The Jedi Order would protest the whole thing, probably fed some lies by Jinn about what actually had happened, but there were more than enough people here to know and spread the truth through the sector. There was nothing more Mandalorian than fighting the Jedi and with any luck this might even get Death Watch interested in "Jango's" rule.

xxxxxx

"gai bal manda" is the Mandalorian adoption rite, it means "name and soul." This is me doing my best to pluralize that into "names and souls"

[willowistic22]

"He urgently needs soup" for Ikeshot?

I got that school project done yayy which means I am back to writing my heart out in newsies fanfics JAHFJNFJKSNJSDF. i wrote this from start to finish for like 3-4 hours straight lol i wish i was this productive every day. one of my favorite and very underrated ship btw so i was soo excited to write it. and also might be a little too long than my other drabble request but hey ive been saying that for almost all of my drabble requests so im sorry not sorry  ✌🤪

requests are still closed for now till i have the motivation to reblog another prompt list but that also just applies to requests in general lol. till then, enjoy this and my next drabble request still in the works. 

He lets the cool night breeze be his company, sitting on the outdoor table of the restaurant his date told him to meet him at. Hotshot didn’t want to order till his date arrive, despite the loud grumbling coming from his stomach. Hotshot isn’t sure how long he has before starvation gets the best of him. Because it’s been well over an hour and a half, and his date hasn’t arrived yet. 

He bounces his leg frantically, the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach worsens with every passing moment of not knowing. Hotshot puts all his energy and focus on the small details around him, ruffling his dark brown hair, fidgeting his fingers together. Doing all that just to distract his brain from what’s most likely happening right now. 

This can’t actually be happening, can it? Why would Hotshot get stood up on the third date? The one where his date had chosen what to do and promised to pay for it? Besides, it seemed that his date was showing genuine interest in him. Or did Hotshot just got too excited and read it all wrong? Is this suppose to be some sort of sign he needs to decipher? 

God, he hated those intrusive thoughts. It gave him a sudden headache, forcing him to pull away his focus from the tiny lights the restaurant had hanged for decorations. Putting his elbow on the table, Hotshot uses his palm to support his heavy head. 

“Are you ready to order now?” The same waitress came back to ask the same question for the seventh time, or is this the eight? Hotshot can only shake his head, the same answer he’s been providing every time that question is thrown at him, turning his face away just to avoid seeing the pity the waitress showed.

Hotshot still wants to hope for the best outcome, but him and every other people noticing his loneliness knows what’s happening. Still, he pulls out his phone to see if his date had responded to his text or he had missed a call. Nothing. Hotshot moves to text his friend Spot, asking him for a second opinion on what to do. 

It fucking sucks because I really like him. Hotshot had texted. He has to have a proper explanation for being this late, right?

He waits for the texting bubbles from Spot to turn into readable text, which didn’t took too long. 

You call two hours late? Look, I’m sorry I have to say this but he stood you up! 

Hotshot doesn’t respond for a moment because he doesn’t want to believe what his friend said. More texting bubbles starts to appear. He places his phone on the table to wait what more Spot has to say. 

I’m saying this because you’re my friend, Hotshot. Come over and we’ll talk about it

That offer looks tempting in Hotshot’s eyes. Before he could reply, the screen of his phone switches to the call display. The name on it confuses him, seeing that he had been ignoring Hotshot for the whole night. 

Hotshot was hesitant to answer it at first, but maybe it’s worth to listen what kind of sorry excuse he had for his lateness. That is, if this still counts as being late. 

“Hello?” Hotshot hesitantly spoke as he put his phone up to his ear. 

“Hey, uhh... a-are you still waiting at the restaurant?” The voice asked, tone nervously shaking. Hotshot could pick up some background noises from the callers end, it’s quite loud but it sounds like there’s too many things happening there to the point he can’t really tell what is what. 

“Yeah, yeah I am. Where are you?” 

There was a little pause for a second before he finally responded again, “So... remember I told you that I have a twin brother?” 

“Yes?” 

“And how I exaggerated about him being a total dumbass and an overall useless human being?” He continued on with a little awkward laughter following after, “Well, you’ll never believe what just happened and where I’m at right now” 

Ike’s in the hospital. The emergency room to be exact. Ike’s brother, Mike, had gotten himself into a drunken accident while he was at a bar. Ike didn’t fully explain what happened because he has no idea what happened there himself.

Hotshot thought Ike genuinely felt bad for leaving him hanging like that. He wanted to tell him but he was just too caught up with what’s happening at the moment. Things had just calmed down on his end, which is why it took him two hours to call Hotshot. 

He told Hotshot to come see him at the emergency room and get takeout for them to enjoy, plus a little something for Mike. Hotshot briefly explained to Spot what was really happening before he head to the hospital to make sure he doesn’t leave his friend hanging. 

The ER is packed with people. Whether they’re there as a patient or as a health worker in the middle of doing their night shift. A strong smell of latex and other medical scents filled his nostrils as soon as he stepped through the automatic doors. The lights are nearly blinding, but it didn’t took long for him to adjust to it.

He scanned the place to look for a small specific boy in the midst of the rush. He finally spotted a familiar face in the far back, hunched over a hospital bed. Hotshot caught his attention with a wave of his hand, which made him stand up from his seat to walk over to him. 

Hotshot makes his own way to him and they meet in the middle of their path. He bends down a little to give Ike a hug once they’ve gotten close enough, but Ike parted with an awkward smile, “I’m sorry. I really didn’t planned on having a date at the ER!” 

To which they both laughed as they make their way to Mike’s hospital bed. 

“What did you get?” Ike asked, finally noticing the takeaway bag Hotshot was carrying. 

“Nothing more than what you suggested on getting” Hotshot replied. Ike had suggested on getting the seafood dishes because that’s their specialty. But he specifically directs Hotshot on what to get for Mike. 

“That means you ordered something for Mike?” He asked, and got a simple nod as a reply, “Good. ‘Cause from what I can tell with his current condition...” 

He moves the hospital curtain to reveal an identical figure lying helplessly on the bed, a cast on the left arm and another cast wrapped around his head. Ike leans his weight against the bed railings with his hands before adding on, “... he urgently needs soup” 

“Is this the guy that keeps on kidnapping you from me to go on corny dates?” The boy on the bed managed to speak up. He looks a little disoriented but his consciousness is present. 

“Mike, we’ve only been on two dates” 

“And he’s gonna keep on doing it, is he?!”

Hotshot laughed at the brotherly interaction before Ike finally pulled a second chair for him. Mike gets his soup, despite still not being able to function properly, while Hotshot and Ike gets to have their third date. The two eat their respective dishes accompanied with a small chat but mostly getting entertained with Mike who’s either still under the influence of anesthesia or the alcohol. Maybe they’re lucky and got both. 

“I’m so sorry our dinner date had to turn into... ‘this’...” Ike put down his wooden spoon in the small food container to gesture his hands towards his brother, “And I’m sorry that it looked like I stood you up” 

“It’s okay. I mean, at least this isn’t another corny date like what he said” 

To which, Ike responded with a small laugh. 

“I should step up my game and get my friend to third wheel us on another ER date next time” Hotshot joked, earning a laugh from Ike, “Taking you on corny dates would piss your brother off” 

“Mike’s an idiot but he’s harmless” Ike explained after he stopped his laughing, “And... I don’t mind the corny dates. I just enjoy going out with you in general!”

Hotshot smiles at him sweetly and Ike returns the favor, ignoring the reality of where they actually are. It made him feel warm to know Ike felt the same way about hanging out with him. Because Hotshot clearly likes him. A lot. 

“Jesus, guys! Get a room!” Mike called out. He might still be a little dysfunctional but he’s sober enough to realize the tension between them, “Don’t gotta make me and my soup feel single while you two make out in public!” 

Hotshot looks down to his food to hide his laugh, whilst Ike gives his brother the stink eye but manages out a laugh. He face Hotshot again, “I swear, this isn’t how I wanted you two to meet” 

[alarawriting]

52 Project #12: Mephistopheles

“Mephistopheles is not your name...”

- The Police, Wrapped Around Your Finger

The car jerked to a halt, jolting Alan awake. He opened his eyes to darkness, disoriented. The car reversed, went back, went forward again, and he realized where he was. "We're there?"

Diana spun the wheel, put the car into reverse again. "Quiet," she said sharply. There was a frightened tension in her voice.

Alan looked out the window. Though the only light came from a streetlamp across the road, he could see enough to determine that Diana was trying to park, and having a miserable time of it. 500 years old, scholar, mage, and she still doesn't know how to park a car, he thought blearily, and started at a bulk looming in the rear view window. "Watch out for that truck!" he shouted.

"I told you to be quiet!" she snapped. "That's as good as it gets. Hurry up out!"

He fumbled his seat belt open, and pulled the door handle. "You want me to get the bags?"

"Alan, for the love of God, just get into the building!"

He was still disoriented, half-asleep, and there was barely enough light to see by. Which building? Some of Diana's panic communicated itself to him, but it only paralyzed him, and he stood on the sidewalk for several seconds trying to figure out which Diana meant. He turned to ask her, and noticed the car sticking out from the curb at a crazy angle. "What if someone hits the car?" he asked.

She grabbed his arm and dragged him up the steps of a massive shadow. "Do you want to get us both killed?" she hissed, pulling open the door and yanking him into the blackness beyond. "Wake up, Alan!"

Killed? The idea woke him up fast. Diana switched the lights on, and he closed his eyes against the sudden brightness. "Sorry I'm being so slow," he said, opening them again. They were standing in the center of a foyer, on a shabby pink carpet. Against the wall stood two equally shabby pink chairs. They looked as if they might have been expensive once, maybe forty years ago. To the left he saw a staircase with an ornate but ancient wooden banister; to the right, and at the top of the staircase, two dark, heavy wooden doors with battered gothic carvings on them stood. "Are we safe now?"

"Not yet," Diana said. "Alan, they were almost on us." She turned away from him, trembling slightly. In a detached sort of way, he was surprised at her reaction-- he hadn't thought anything could scare Diana.

"And now?" he asked.

"This building is-- protected, to some extent. They won't pinpoint us as quickly here. But we won't be truly safe until-- Alan!!"

Her cry came before he felt it himself. Then a sickening wave of paralyzing numbness drove vision and speech from him. A haze of dizziness clouded all of his senses, even the position of his body. From somewhere very far away, he heard Diana shout, "Donald, it's Diana Faust! Release him!"

And then it was over, and the world was normal again. He staggered, more in shock than pain, and Diana caught him. "A spell?" he asked as he straightened up, and she nodded.

On the staircase stood a newcomer, seemingly little more than a boy, though Alan knew better than to go by appearances. The newcomer was short, sallow, and thin, with dark uncombed hair all over his head and mirrored shades hiding his eyes. Alan guessed that this was Donald Ward, the arcana mage they'd come to see. Somehow, he'd expected an ancient sage, or at the very least someone professorial. This man looked somewhere between 16 and 19 years of age.

But then, Diana herself looked like a 22-year-old model, when she was actually older than Shakespeare.

"Diana," Ward said wearily. "It's past two o'clock. What are you doing here?" His voice was unpleasant, high-pitched and nasal with traces of a Brooklyn accent, and very weak. As he spoke, Alan had to fight the urge to cough in sympathy.

"Emergency." Diana sounded brusque. "I'll explain later. Right now, though, I need you to put up a protection sphere."

"In the middle of the night?" Ward asked disbelievingly.

"I've been driving since 7 this morning-- don't tell me how tired you are," Diana said sharply. From her attitude, Alan could see that she was senior to Donald, elder, more powerful, whatever term you wanted to apply to a higher-status mage. "I've come to offer you what you need. Put up a protection sphere first."

"I haven't got the energy," Ward said faintly. Alan could believe it.

Diana opened her pocketbook and drew out a bag full of faintly glowing crushed leaves. She held it toward the staircase. "Free of charge," she said.

For a second, Ward stood frozen. Then, slowly, he began to move downstairs, never taking his eyes from the bag. "How much is in there?" he asked, hanging onto the banister at the bottom of the stairs.

Diana walked forward and handed the bag to him. "Eight drachms."

Ward suddenly snatched the package like a hungry animal and ripped it open. By now Alan had recognized it-- flos corde, heartflower, the most powerful substance in the arcana universe, an extract of pure energy. "Aren't you supposed to brew that?" he asked tentatively as Ward crammed the leaves into his mouth.

With the sunglasses, it was hard to discern Ward's expression, but Alan thought the man was giving him a disgusted look. Diana said, "We're supposed to brew it. Donald has different needs." She took his hand and pulled him past Donald Ward, onto the staircase.

"What about the protection sphere?" Alan asked.

"He's done it already," Diana said. "I told you. The words of a spell are only a way to focus the mind. Once the mind knows how to make a certain spell, words become superfluous. Ward's an adept-- did you expect him to stand in the lobby and chant 'Om'?"

She opened the door at the top of the stairs-- and they entered a different world.

Donald Ward's apartment was plants, all plants. They covered the walls, creeping vines and multicolored ivies and thick ropes of blue kudzu. They hung from the ceiling in pots and baskets. They grew thickly in the moist soil that covered the floor. A few graceful fountains burbled among bushes and dwarf trees. Two globes of light hung in midair, about twelve feet from the floor, with no apparent support. The light they gave off was brilliant, like a summer day, and Alan had to shield his eyes-- but even when they passed directly under them, he could feel no heat coming from them.

"My God," Alan said.

"The miracles of an arcana education," Diana said dryly.

"Where does he live in all this?"

"He doesn't. He lives over here."

She led him through the maze of vines, around occasional support pillars and ceramic statues, to an area beyond some bushes, where a raised floor came out of the dirt. On the floor stood a stove, a refrigerator, a table with two chairs, and a couch. The couch and one of the chairs had books piled on them. Here, the walls were nearly devoid of plants, covered instead with shelves and cabinets and odd-looking appliances, but the ceiling was still covered with evil viney growth. It stayed off the walls, mostly, except at the very top, but it dipped down in many places to dangle in loops that could catch a person’s head. A tiny door was nearly hidden between the stove and the refrigerator. The whole room was tremendously cramped and claustrophobic. "I guess he doesn't do much entertaining," Alan said.

"Donald is rather uniquely alone." Diana sat in the empty chair. Alan took the books off the other one and followed suit.

"I thought you said most arcana live alone," Alan said. "The ones that don't form covens."

"Stop saying covens. I use the word once, to make a point, and you adopt it. The word is schools."

"All right, schools," Alan said. "But if most arcana live alone, why is Ward unique?"

Diana played with a button on her jacket, snapping and unsnapping it. "He's the only arcana who lives alone and doesn't want to."

Ward came in then, sliding past the shrubbery with the ease of long practice. "All right, Diana," he said. His voice was very fast now, almost tripping on itself. "What's the emergency?" He perched on the couch and glanced sideways at Alan. "You're not usually one for taking in strays."

Diana pushed fine blond hair out of her eyes, looking up from her button. In the shadiness of the nook, Alan noticed for the first time an unpleasant pink tinge to her eyes, almost a glow. "Let me first tell you what's in it for you," she said. "Agree to help me, whatever I say or do, and I'll cure you."

Ward stood. "You said two decades ago you couldn't cure me."

Cure him of what? Alan wondered. Ward didn't look healthy, it was true, but what sort of disease could bring an arcana adept down? Did his devouring the heartflower have something to do with it?

"One can learn a lot in two decades. Do you agree?"

"What can I lose?"

"They might sanction you."

"So what? What can they take, my life?" He laughed sharply, without humor, and sat on the table. "What did you get involved in this time, Diana? You've never been threatened with sanction in my lifetime."

Diana put her hands flat on the table and looked directly at Ward. "Several months ago, this young man, Alan Michaels, tracked me down. He'd discovered that I was an arcana, and he wanted to be one too."

"So you taught him. Where's the problem? Did he break taboo?"

"I'm not a certified teacher."

"What?" Ward slid off the table and stood. "How can you not be certified? You have to be more than 50 decades old, and you must know more than any other arcana I've heard of. More even than Marcus. How could you possibly not be certified?"

Diana half-smiled and shrugged. "Too much trouble."

"WHAT??"

"You heard me quite well, Donald."

"I heard you, I just don't believe it. Why not?"

"My name is Diana Faust." She stood up, drawing arrogance around her like a cloak. "I didn't just pick the name at random, Donald. Faust sold his soul to the devil for knowledge. I've spent the last forty years studying at various colleges, changing identities, learning all I could. I never wanted to play Mephistopheles. I don't interact well with people, and my habits force me to take new bodies almost as often as you do. I don't need students for security or energy or companionship or any of the other reasons ring-bearers teach, and I didn't want to take the time from my own studies."

"So why did you go ahead and teach someone anyway?"

"Curiosity, mostly. I wanted to see how it'd come out-- an uncontrolled arcana. And I'd found someone who was as desperate to play Faust as I was."

"What are you talking about?" Donald said, echoing Alan's thought. "We don't sell our souls to become arcana."

"Don't we?" Diana said softly. Her face became serious. "In any case. What have you decided, Donald? Will you do it?"

Ward sat down on the table again. "Diana, I really would sell my soul to the devil if I thought it would cure me," he said. "I've been to the Frozen World, I've been everywhere, and nobody can help me. So you can consider yourself protected. You two can live in the downstairs apartment-- it's smaller than this one, but it's got two beds--"

"--And no plants. I know," Diana said. Suddenly she seemed very weary. "You can expect results within the week. Let's go, Alan."

They got the bags out of the car in silence, and Alan parked it up the street, properly this time. Diana had told him that arcana could go for up to 72 hours without getting tired, but after only a day, he could see that she was dead on her feet, her movements dragging and lethargic. Alan didn't feel much better-- sleeping in the car was not the best way to insure a restful night. And they hadn't ever had a chance to stop-- Diana kept saying that if they stopped, the other arcana would find them. After a while, as the need to stretch his legs increased, and as more time passed without any visible signs of the danger they were in, Alan had stopped believing her.

He had been quickly reconvinced by the attack on the thruway, the one that had left two carfuls of smoking bodies behind them.

Obviously, they weren't going to be able to unpack everything tonight, but some things needed to be done. As Alan began moving toilet supplies into the tiny bathroom, he asked, "How is Ward sick?"

"I don't know if I can explain," Diana said dully, folding clothes like someone half-asleep. For a moment, Alan thought he should leave her alone-- she sounded thoroughly drained. But curiosity won out over politeness.

"You can explain anything," he said, with forced cheer. "Go ahead."

"Oh, all right," she sighed. "I told you that most arcana need to take a new body every twenty to forty years, most always someone who voluntarily exchanges their life for some feat of magic. Our magic is powered by the energy of life, and one body only contains a finite amount. So we make our deals with our clients prime, and grant them whatever they want in return for their lives and bodies. Right?"

She was getting repetitive, perhaps due to her exhaustion. "I know all that," he said, slightly irritably. He was tired, too.

"Well, Donald Ward requires a new client prime every three to five years," Diana said. "His life energy bleeds away too fast for any of his bodies to replenish it. I have an idea about the cause, but it's too technical for you and I'm too tired to paraphrase it into layman's language." She finished putting the clothes away and sat down on the bed. "You may have noticed that when we get tired, or our bodies start to wear out, our eyes turn pink."

He paused, coat hanger in hand, and looked at her. The room was lit only by windows, and Diana's back was to them. Alan perceived a definite pinkish glow, defining the hollows in her face that were her eyes. "I see."

"His are a blinding bright pink, all the time. That's why he wears those glasses." Diana yawned and pulled off her shoes. "We've done enough work. You get dressed in the bathroom, I'll stay out here."

"All right," Alan said. He got a sweatsuit out of his suitcase to sleep in, and carried it into the bathroom. Sometimes Diana's modesty seemed a little bit funny to him. Three years ago, he'd seen her nude often enough-- but she'd had a different body back then, and she had been careful to keep their relationship professional since she'd become his teacher.

That was one restriction that bothered Alan. Diana's slender model's body was not as much to his tastes as the tiny form she'd worn when they were college students together, but she was still the only woman in his life, had been practically the only person he'd associated with at all for two years, and a man could build up a lot of frustrated desire in that time. He never asked-- he knew quite well that she knew his feelings, and that she intended to maintain a teacher-student relationship, free of sexual entanglements, whatever he might want. The thought floated through his head that he could open the door to the bathroom a crack-- from this angle, he should be able to see her without her noticing. It wasn’t a serious thought, though. In the first place, it’d be disrespectful, and if she caught him at it, he would be in serious trouble.

Alan leaned on the sink and stared into the mirror. He looked like death warmed over, with stubble on his cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and overlong reddish brown hair flopping every which way over his head and face. But it was his face. That was the hardest thing to get used to-- that when he became an arcana, this body would die, and he would have to take another. Morbidly, he tried to imagine it-- would it be fat or thin? handsome or ugly? blond or brunet? Maybe it would even be a woman's body-- Diana had been a man more than once, according to her, and she claimed that many arcana no longer cared about the sex of the bodies they acquired. The idea of becoming a woman bothered Alan, though, on the deep levels where the unease could not be purged by rational thought. He didn't think taking a woman as his first client prime would be a good way to start his career-- he should get used to the weirdness of body-switching itself before dealing with the further weirdness of sex-changing.

A cold feeling suddenly burned through Alan. The body he was so casually imagining already belonged to a man somewhere. A man who would have to die for his sake.

He quickly left the bathroom, dragging his dirty clothes with one hand, not caring if Diana was dressed yet or not. He had to talk to her, ask her about the clients prime. Did they really know what they were getting into? Did they really, voluntarily agree to die? What magical favors would be worth dying for?

But Diana was already asleep, the covers pulled tightly around her body and her head buried in the pillow. Alan turned away and sat down on the other bed, making it sag with his weight. Trust Diana to take the best bed.

Well, that was her prerogative, he supposed. She was the teacher, he the student, and he trusted her completely. She might have lied to him in the past, but never since becoming his teacher. Diana claimed that most human emotion was alien to her, that she had never truly understood or experienced human emotion even in the days when she, too, was bound by human limitations. She further claimed that her sole motive in teaching Alan was curiosity. But Alan was fairly sure that was bullshit. Whether she wanted to admit it, even to herself, or not, Alan knew she really cared for him, somewhere inside. She would never have let him become an arcana if she'd thought it would harm him.

Although he would have found another way even if she'd refused him. Alan was as obsessively curious and as indifferent to the outside world as Diana herself. They were very much alike. For example, he thought of Ward's comment-- "We don't sell our souls to become arcana--" and of Diana's ambiguous reply, and knew she felt the same way he did. Even if the price of knowledge had been his soul, he'd have paid it. He was as much Faust as Diana was. She had to care about him, for he cared about her, and fundamentally, he was sure, they were the same.

Alan had first met her as a college student. His parents had recently died, leaving him a large trust fund to continue his education, as well as a monstrous emptiness in his life nothing had been able to fill. He had decided, not entirely consciously, to cut himself off from human contact, to live solely for intellectual pursuits. As a result, he'd become obsessed with the pursuit of knowledge. He'd changed his major for the third time, giving him another two years before he had to graduate, another two years to fill his life with classes and seminars and cultural events instead of facing the fact of his awful loneliness. The only contact with people he'd had was over the Internet, with people he never saw. He hadn't even looked at women – not as women, anyway. People who were women were all around him, but looking at them as potential sexual partners had been too much work.  

But he'd found it increasingly harder to ignore Diana. Then, she'd been a tiny, wild thing with tangled-briar black hair and gypsy green eyes. He hadn't known then what she was; all she'd been then was a fellow student, classmate in a philosophy seminar. At first, he'd hardly noticed her body (well, be honest; he'd tried not to notice her body)-- it had been her mind, powerful and original and more knowledgeable than anyone else's, that had attracted him.

They'd become lovers, and he found himself drawn by her more and more, as if she were his only connection to the humanity he'd all but rejected. He clung to her desperately, but never admitted to himself or her how much he needed her. He'd accepted her arrogance and unconscious assumption of superiority because to him, anyone with a mind like that was his superior. Brilliance was the only thing he respected, and he hungrily desired all she could teach him, wanting her knowledge even more than her body.

Then they'd gone their separate ways over the summer, with what Alan had thought was the tacit understanding that they would get back together the next year. Diana had been there three years, and had at least another before she could graduate. There had been every reason to assume she'd return to the same school the next year.

She hadn't.

Searching for her, for the reasons why she'd left, Alan had discovered that she was completely gone, erased from the computer banks as if she'd never attended that school. He'd called on all his computer skills, plundered the databases of American colleges-- and had found her, in places she could not be. In the past decade, she had attended three schools as an incoming freshman. Her age had been listed as eighteen in each case. Prior to that, he found evidence of her as a graduate student, at multiple schools, going back another twenty years or so before the records went offline and were unavailable to him. Finally, working day and night, he'd found a student named Diana Faust, a freshman at a new university. He'd gone to meet her-- and found a tall, slender blonde with a model's body and Diana's mind.

It was then that he'd learned of Diana's immortality, of her magic powers. He'd begged, cajoled, groveled, and finally persuaded her to teach him, with no understanding of the dangers he faced. Of course, Diana had warned him that if they were discovered she would be sanctioned, that dozens of powerful magicians would try to kill them for breaking the arcana's most sacred law, but he couldn't quite believe that. What could be so horrible about teaching without certification?

Now Alan believed it, even if he still didn't understand why. To the arcana, the concept of "teacher" meant something far different, far older than the usual concept held by ordinary people. "Teacher", to arcana, held overtones of "master" and "elder" and "parent" and "superior". The teachers of the arcana formed a sacred elite, and like most sacred elites, they tried to destroy anyone who infringed on their prerogatives.

This whole mess had made him respect Diana even more. She could have cut and run, abandoning him to the others' fury-- she'd told him that his death would absolve her. She could even have killed him herself. But she hadn't, and Alan loved and admired her for it. Diana might claim to be totally heartless, but Alan knew better. She cared for him-- she had to, or she never would have protected him. And she was brilliant. She would find a way to protect them both, forever.

He only wished he knew enough magic to help her.

Alan climbed into bed, exhausted. It was six in the morning-- aside from a fitful three hours or so snatched in the car, he had been up for longer than 24 hours. He turned away from the window, toward Diana, and arranged his covers to block out as much light as possible without covering his nose and mouth.

***

Alan woke with a start. The room was totally dark.

He fumbled for a light, clumsy with irrational panic at having slept through something important. As he turned on the light, the groggy terror of waking began to pass. How could he possibly have slept through something important? There wasn't anything that important anymore, not anything that ran on a schedule, at least. It wasn't like he still went to class or anything.

Diana wasn't in the other bed.

By itself, that was nothing. Alan was independent enough to take care of himself, he didn't need Diana holding his hand all the time. But now, coming on top of the fear, her absence had a distinctly sinister flavor. The panic was too great to equal a simple missed class. He felt still as if he had slept through something vital to his survival.

"Trust your hunches," Diana had said once. "As you grow in power, you will begin to perceive things, understand parts of existence that few mortals comprehend. Mortals have hunches based on half-remembered facts in the subconscious. You'll start to have hunches based on psychic power. You won't understand them, they'll seem irrational, but trust them. They're your arcana senses, beginning to bud."

Analyze. The windows showed only darkness, and it felt very late. But it had been six in the morning when he went to bed. Alan went to his bags and pulled out a clock. For several minutes, he couldn't comprehend what it was telling him. Then it came clear, and he stared at it in disbelief.

It said 4:00 AM.

He padded out into the threatening shadows of the kitchenette. On the range was a tiny lit clock. It confirmed what the digital had told him. He really had slept nearly twenty-two hours.

The bedroom felt more secure, so Alan walked back to it, trying to master his irrational desire to run. He had been charmed to sleep, that was certain. He hadn't been that tired. And, since Diana had no motive for putting him to sleep, that left two choices. Either Ward had done it-- or some other arcana had.

"Oh, shit," he whispered. "Diana..."

He couldn't yield to panic. The other arcana were here, he was sure. Either Ward had betrayed them, or his protection sphere hadn't been enough. That didn't really matter now. Diana was either dead, or a hostage, or trying to negotiate with her fellows. In any case, he should probably run. People who could kill or capture Diana would eat him for breakfast, and if she were negotiating, he should get out of the enemy's reach so that he couldn't be used against her.

He had already gotten dressed and pocketed the car keys before he realized that he wasn't going anywhere. It might be stupid, it was probably insane, but he had to find Diana, had to find out what had happened to her. After all, how could he seriously attempt to run from arcana? He didn't know how to put up a protection sphere, didn't know how to defend himself from attack. He'd be candy if they wanted him dead.

So he would get some answers before he died. And maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny chance that the few spells he knew could swing the balance in Diana's favor, especially if Ward were still on their side. Alan chanted the words of a spell of invisibility, knowing it wouldn't fool any arcana who was looking for him. But if they weren't looking, the spell might save his life. He felt the spell take effect, warming him, and the shadows of the tiny living room, the glaring empty light of the kitchenette, no longer seemed as threatening.

Alan stepped out of the apartment. The foyer was dark and silent, and it took all his courage to walk through it to the stairs. But Diana was in Ward's apartment, he knew without knowing how. If he was going to learn anything, he had to go up there.

The doorknob of Ward's apartment was terrifyingly cold, and Alan began to tremble. He thought again of fleeing, bolting down the stairs and out to the car. But he stayed where he was, and finally, silently, turned the knob.

Voices came to him, then. He stood in the doorway, moved a bit deeper into the room, but couldn't hear clearly enough-- all the plant life was muffling the sound. Very slowly, Alan moved forward, making no motion without checking first to see that it would make no noise. There was Diana's voice, strangely low and calm-- of course, if anyone could remain calm in these circumstances it would be Diana. He made out Donald Ward's voice, but couldn't hear any others. They're the only ones, he thought, surprised-- he hadn't thought Ward was powerful enough to defeat Diana.

He moved forward again, until he could see their faces. They weren't speaking any language he could understand-- silently, he cursed himself for not engaging the translation spell. He couldn't do it here, of course-- activating a spell would be like sending up a flare to them. So he remained silent, and waited, watching. It didn't look like Ward was threatening Diana. As usual, Diana seemed to be explaining something. And gradually, Alan realized he had been wrong.

Diana wasn't in danger at all. They were talking shop!

Then why had he been spelled to sleep?

For a moment, doubt froze him. Maybe nobody put him to sleep. He had fallen asleep naturally, after all, and he'd been tired, and under great strain-- but 22 hours of natural sleep pushed the boundaries of credibility until they snapped. No, someone had put him to sleep, and the reasons were coming clearer.

"You could have told me, Diana," he whispered soundlessly, his lips forming patterns without voice. "You didn't have to put me out." She might occasionally want to be alone with someone of her own kind, after all. In comparison to her, Alan was a little child, and Donald was an adult. Even if she'd had a vocation for teaching-- and she didn't-- it made sense that she'd want to spend some time with an adult of her own kind. But she didn't need to put him to sleep, as if he were a baby to be gotten out of the way with a nap. She could have simply asked him to stay downstairs. He'd have been hurt, sure, but not nearly as hurt as he was now.

Angry, and no longer particularly caring if they noticed him anymore, he got up and pushed his way out of the foliage.

"Alan?" Diana called.

Let her call. She'd hurt him-- he didn't particularly feel, at the moment, that he had any reason to be considerate of her feelings. He shoved his way toward the door.

"Alan, wait!!"

***

Diana caught up with him on the stairs. "What did you hear?" she asked savagely.

"Enough to know you were right, and I was wrong. You are totally cold. It was a mistake for me to think any differently." Alan tried to push past her.

She grabbed his shoulders and fixed him with swirling blue eyes, glowing in the darkness. "What did you hear??" she hissed. "Now!"

Frightened, Alan twisted away, trying to hold onto his righteous anger. "I couldn't understand a damned word of it!" he snarled. "Happy now? Your precious grownup games are safe, the kid didn't hear. Why don't you just put me to bed with my bottle and go back upstairs?"

Diana sighed. "Madonna preserve us from hurt feelings." Normally Alan found it amusingly incongruous, that an immortal mage should swear by the Catholic religion of her youth 500 years ago, but he wasn't in any mood to be amused. Diana took his hand and led him down the stairs. "Why were you eavesdropping, Alan?"

"Why did you put me to sleep?" he countered. "Diana, you could have simply told me you wanted to be alone. I trust you not to plan a human sacrifice behind my back-- Diana, what's wrong?"

She had stiffened at the door to their apartment. Now there was a faint tremor in her voice. "Nothing. I'm just-- all right, I understand, I hurt your feelings. But there are-- important things I needed to talk over with Ward, things regarding his cure, that are too advanced for you. I didn't want you asking questions I couldn't answer."

"You've always answered my questions before," Alan said. "What makes this different?"

"Knowledge can be dangerous," Diana said, but she said it in a small, almost trembling voice, not the pedantic voice she habitually used. Was she crying? Could she be that affected by his hurt? That hardly seemed like her.

"Diana, what's wrong?" he asked, concerned. "Something I said upset you." He thought back. "Was it the comment about human sacrifice? That was really tactless of me, I guess." After all, how did the arcana survive, but by the sacrifice of others' lives? "But I didn't realize it bothered you. You never said--"

"It has nothing to do with anything you said," Diana said sharply, but the tremor was still there. "I just-- I don't feel well. Do you know how many spells I had to perform yesterday, how much energy that drained from me?" Her voice had taken on the hard edge of defensive anger. "I'm just tired, that's all! So could you please leave me alone?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"Che Dio mi perdoni!" Diana cried suddenly, and ran for the bathroom. Alan listened, but could hear nothing at all. She must have cast a soundproofing spell.

"Happy now?"

Alan hadn't heard Ward come in, but somehow he was not too startled. Possibly Diana's uncharacteristic behavior had used up his quota of surprise for the night. "What do you mean?" he asked, conscious somehow of vulnerability. In this light, Ward's spindly limbs and mirrored glasses reminded Alan of an insect. "This is between me and Diana."

"You're not one to complain about people being nosy," Ward said. His voice was tired and slow, and Alan had to forcibly remind himself that Ward had taken the heartflower over twenty hours ago. "You must really have some hold on her, if you can make Diana the Ancient show human feeling. How did you get that kind of power?"

Alan frowned. "What do you mean, that kind of power? Do you think I cast a spell on her or something like that?"

Ward shook his head slowly, exhaustedly. Alan could not see his eyes, but had a feeling the man was staring at him with hostility. "Don't be stupid. I know better than that. But if you can make Diana weep.... you have a lot more power than I do."

"We're not rivals," Alan said carefully. "If Diana's your lover or something--"

"Merciful Lord, no!" Ward laughed harshly. "She's an elder. And she feels nothing for anyone. Except maybe you. Probably not even you. But if she does feel for you..."

Ward trailed off and turned on his heel. Alan shouted, "What do you mean? If she feels for me, then what?"

"It could come to war," Ward said, and slipped out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Alan ran after him, but the door was stuck, and by the time he got it open Ward was gone. Damn! Alan hated riddles. He wanted to know the answer, he didn't want to have to figure it out.

Why would Diana's caring about Alan lead to war? War between who? A real war, in the outside world? An arcana war? War between Diana and Ward? Alan and Ward? Alan and Diana, for gods' sakes? What did Ward mean?

Diana was asleep, or doing a good imitation of it, when Alan finally went into the bedroom. He got out her spellbooks, carried them into the kitchen, and began studying the protections against sleep charms.

***

It was two days later before he and Diana were awake and together long enough to talk. By unspoken agreement, the subject of the sleep spell and the eavesdropping had been dropped. Alan hadn't even told Diana he was practicing against sleep spells; it would have sounded petulant, like a small child's attempt at revenge.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asked.

"Eggs. Scrambled." She sat at the table in the kitchenette, reading Scientific American.

Alan got out the materials. "I've been thinking," he said. "Once you've cured Ward, what's to prevent him from turning us in?"

"It doesn't work like that," Diana said. "In the first place, if you deal with somebody who's sanctioned, the blow falls on you as well. And in the second place, he'll be bonded to me, as he would be to a teacher. A student can't possibly kill his teacher-- the two are bonded, and the teacher can end the student's life at any time. That's how sanctions are usually dealt with."

"But then-- in your case-- don't you have a teacher?" It was bizarre to think of Diana ever being in his position, ever needing someone to teach her, but she had to have learned the disciplines from someone.

Diana looked up at him with a somewhat quizzical expression. "Actually, that's a good question," she said. "My teacher's dead. That happens, to those of us who've been around a long time."

"Aren't you immortal?"

"No. We don't age-- there's a difference. And our magic usually protects us from mundane accidents. My teacher, Petrius, died in a battle with his rival Huo Tian. Of course I killed Huo Tian shortly afterward-- it was my obligation to avenge Petrius, and Huo Tian didn't have any students of his own, so the pendulum of revenge ended with that final swing. This was shortly after I became an arcana, what-- almost 500 years ago. I was Petrius' first student, and Huo Tian made the mistake of thinking I was inconsequential because I was a woman. Well, he never made that mistake again." She laughed softly, sounding for the first time like the old woman she really was, reminiscing. "I did grieve for Petrius, but his death set me free. The intricate systems of control that govern our society no longer applied to me, and I was still too young to have been buried under the weight of tradition. Older arcana don't have anyone to control them, as their teachers usually choose to die after about a thousand years or so, but they'd never dare break from the establishment. Whereas I was young enough to conceive of being a maverick, and free enough to do it. That's the real reason I never became certified as a teacher, although I didn't tell Donald. I'm an elder, but the others don't really trust me. I don't think they'd ever let me wear the ring."

"It must be lonely, being a maverick," he said. "Is that why you agreed to teach me? Besides curiosity."

"Maybe, in a way," she said. She sounded very sad.

"But it hasn't worked out, has it? I mean, either we live under Ward's protection all our lives, or we skulk in the shadows for the rest of eternity. Are the other arcana ever going to get off our backs?"

"Someday," she said, "I had hoped... I would have presented you as a full-fledged arcana, a fait accompli. I don't think they'd have destroyed you then. It's only now that you're vulnerable... But of course, it's now that they caught us."

"They know your habits, your lifestyle," Alan said. "Are you going to give up everything, just for me?"

"I'll think of something," Diana said, playing with a button on her nightgown.

It sounded to Alan almost as if she had thought of something, and didn't want to tell him. "Are you sure you haven't already?" he asked.

"What does that mean?" She looked up at him.

Diana had never lied to him since she became his teacher. "Never mind," he said, not wanting to accuse her of having started. "Diana-- you once said that if I died, you'd be free. What if we faked my death?"

"What then?"

"Send me to another teacher. I'll use a pseudonym or something. The experiment's failed, I think you can see that. I could still be an arcana, and you'd be reinstated. The best of all possible worlds."

Diana was staring at him. "They'd have a matrix lock on your physical form, since you're not strong enough to change bodies... but if I rematrixed... Dio mio, se noi egli possiamo..."

"What?" Alan hated it when she slipped into Italian, as he didn't speak the language.

Diana got up, shaking her head. "That is an interesting idea," she said calmly, "but I really can't discuss it with you now. I have to go talk to Donald about this project." She abandoned her uncooked breakfast, put on her slippers, and left the apartment.

Alan watched her go, with something very close to jealousy gnawing at him. Donald, again.

***

He sat with the spellbooks for several hours, sensing the argument upstairs more with his arcana seventh sense than with his ears. He had no idea what it was about, but hoped Diana was winning.

The door upstairs slammed, and Diana came stalking down. As she entered the apartment, he went to meet her. "Anything wrong?" he asked lightly.

"Shut up," she said savagely, her voice tenser than it had been even on the morning she'd told them they'd been discovered and had to run.

"Diana, what is it? Is Ward going to betray us?"

"Just shut up!!" She grabbed a few spellbooks off the couch, scooped them up and wheeled for the door. "Don't follow me!" she shouted as she slammed the door.

Alan stared after her, almost blinded by a surge of rage. What had he done to deserve this? Her argument was with Ward, not him.

Ward. He was so important that an argument with him destroyed Diana's relationship with Alan. What could possibly be so important? This wasn't any minor quibble over a technical detail, that was certain. And anything that affected Diana this much affected Alan as well. He had a right to know what was going on.

First he spoke the words of a translator spell, so he could understand whatever the language was. Then he placed a sphere of protection about himself, left the apartment, and headed upstairs.

Ward's door blocked out the meanings but not the noise. He could hear screaming and shouting inside, far too close by to risk opening the door. Well, he hadn't trained two years as an arcana for nothing. Diana had told him never to use this spell on calm arcana, because they'd detect it with no trouble. But from the sounds of things, those two wouldn't know it if all the arcana in the universe zeroed their locator spells in on them at once. Alan spoke a spell to eavesdrop.

"You go back on this and I'll personally track you to the Worlds of Darkness!" Ward shouted, close to sobbing.

"I'm not saying I'll renege! Just another year!" Diana raged. "I refuse to kill that boy for your sake while there's another solution!"

Alan froze. That boy?

"In a year I'll be dead!"

"You're exaggerating the situation. You can survive indefinitely at your rate of--"

"Damn you, I'm dying now! I took a client twenty weeks ago and already I need a new one! My next client will be my last, can't you see that? I'm dying!"

"Six months, three months! Long enough to get a new client for you! Donald, I can do it. I just need another person to use as a client prime."

"What happened to the old one? Did he find out? Go back on his consent? Get fried? Or are you in love with him or something? You're going to let me die, for the sake of a mortal!"

"He's not a mortal, he's a student of the arcana and he never truly made the deal. I had no right to offer him to you!"

No – she can’t mean – but she does, doesn’t she. That’s exactly what she means.

"Yeah, but then your life was at stake. Well, let me tell you this! I offered you protection, wasted my energy, for a bona fide deal. You go back on it, and I'll tell everyone where you are! Not only that but that you went back on a deal with a fellow arcana! Not only that but you tried to use someone who hadn't consented as a client prime, on a technicality! Save me now, or God help me I'll destroy you!"

"You'll destroy me? Don't you dare threaten me, child. I've killed far more powerful arcana than you!"

"So? What's my life worth? Is it worth yours, Diana? Are you going to gamble your life that I couldn't get a burst of mindspeech off to my teacher before I died?" There was silence. "Answer me, Elder! Will you gamble your life on my death?"

"And if I save you?" She was much quieter.

She was going to accept, Alan realized. She was going to go on with the deal, and kill him.

Oh God ohgod what am I going to do?

He'd learned that consent was required. The link between arcana and client, that drained the client's life energy at the completion of a bargain, could only be established by voluntary cooperation by both parties. Just like the bond between teacher and student.. "I will obey all my teacher's commandments, with my life forfeit if I disobey..." But what if his teacher commanded that he forfeit his life? What could he do? Diana could kill him anywhere. She'd said so herself, the teacher could always kill the student. It would do no good to run.

If he confronted them with what he knew? They'd kill him. Ward would kill him. He remembered the burning numbness of Ward's protective spell, when they'd first met, remembered Ward's hostility and mention of war. Ward would kill Alan rather than let him live to see Ward die. And Diana? What about Diana?

He heard, as if in a fading dream, Diana agree to kill him for Ward's sake. Then he canceled his spells and went running down the stairs, into the apartment. With a speed born of desperation, he threw clothes into one of the luggage cases. Diana was willing to let him die, to save her own life. Had been all along. She'd been playing with him, lying to him, making him think she loved him despite the obviousness of her callous nature. He hated her for that, and yet... Diana had been arguing for his survival. Did she care about him, Alan, or was it more like a pet that a little girl wanted to keep? Did it even matter, now? If he were a pet to her so be it-- anything to stay alive.

He had grown giddy with the exertion. Now, a bag of necessities thrown together, he leaned against the wall of the bedroom, catching his breath. Then Diana came in.

Alan walked into the living room and stopped her with a hand.

"I didn't bargain with you," he said. "I didn't make a deal, or offer my life in exchange for knowledge. I'm not Faust, and you're not Mephistopheles. I might have given my life to be an arcana, to know what you know, if that had been the price you quoted. But it wasn't, and I didn't, and I'm not your client prime."

She stood looking at him for several seconds, her expression blank. "You listened in," she finally said tonelessly.

Careful, Alan. Better be careful, if you want to live. "Yes," he said.

"Then you don't understand anything," she said. "Alan, I don't need your consent." She walked over and sat down on the couch. "I wear the ring, that's all I need."

His mouth was almost too dry to shape the words. "What ring?"

"There isn't any. It was a metaphor," she said tiredly. "I don't wear a literal ring. Only certified teachers do that. The difference between them and me is that they live off their students, take small quantities of life energy from them always. It's one of the reasons for my power, because I have no one riding on my back, leaching my life into a ring. I have the bond with you, but I take nothing from you." She corrected herself. "Took nothing from you. That's why they were out to kill us-- because you could have been the most powerful arcana that ever lived, and under no one's control, not even mine."

She looked down at the sofa, and began playing with a button. "But I could kill you now as surely as if I wore your life around my finger. I don't need your consent. That's what the plan hinged on. Ward's life is bleeding away, because his soul isn't fully connected to his body. We planned to matrix your body into a replica of the body he was born with, and fix him in it permanently. That would have stopped the energy bleed, and the next time he took a client prime, it would be as a normal arcana. Since you are my student, I didn't need your consent for the plan, the way I would have for an ordinary client."

"Then why are you talking?" he asked, and was ashamed to hear his voice break. "Get it over with, will you?"

"But I'm not going to kill you." She looked up at him. "I thought you realized that."

He expelled a very long breath. "You are heartless, aren't you?"

"You would have preferred to die?" she asked sharply.

"You lie and act and pretend-- it's all a game with you, isn't it? First you play with me, to make me think we'll escape. Then you lie to Ward, and tell him you'll kill me. Then you act like you're about to do it, and then you change your mind again. Why are you playing this cat-and-mouse game, Diana?"

She looked back down at the sofa.

"I trusted you completely, and you would have casually taken my life to reinstate yourself and pay Ward. Now you're equally as casually planning to betray Ward for my sake. Why? What's in it for you? How do you expect to manage it, without Ward turning you in? Or is this just another turn of the screw? Are you doing a thesis on the emotional patterns of mortals and arcana who're close to death?"

"You could take a new teacher," Diana said, almost inaudibly. "I'll tell them that I was pretending to train you, so I could cure Donald. But you died in a car accident, and Donald went back to the Frozen World. It'll be decades, if ever, before they realize the truth. Donald doesn't have many friends, and I can concoct a story for his teacher Marcus."

"But what'll you do about Donald himself? He won't take off to the Frozen World just because you tell him to."

Diana sighed. "You're being dense," she said. "Whose body do you think I'll use to throw them off your trail?"

It took a second to sink in. Then, "You are the most callous individual I've ever met."

"Why do you care?" she asked. "Donald wanted you dead."

"That's not the point. What am I worth to you, that you'll kill one of your own to protect me? How does this fit in your master plan?"

"He threatened me. I can't let him live."

"But why did you provoke the situation in the first place? You could have just done it, and I'd never have suspected you, or been able to stop you even if I had. Ward would've been in your debt for life. Why didn't you kill me?"

Diana stood up. "You never learn to leave well enough alone!" she said angrily. "Always questioning, everything I do. Isn't it enough that you're going to live? Must you ask why?"

"Yes! I trusted you before, took your word and your motives for granted, and you nearly killed me. Why have you decided to let me live?"

"Because I don't want you to die, you idiot!"

"I don't believe you."

"It's true. I never wanted to kill you."

"But you were planning on doing it anyway."

"I had no alternative! There wasn't any other way to solve the problem, I thought-- I didn't realize, not until you told me, that there was another way!"

"That's terribly likely."

"Alan--" She faced him, swallowing. "I care about you."

The frightening thing was that he believed her. Another time, he might have gladly died to hear that. Now, if he let himself pay attention to her, there was a good chance he would die. "I don't believe you," he said again, as if by saying it he could make it true. "You don't care about anything but the pursuit of knowledge. You can't. You're Faust, remember?"

Alan grabbed his bag, walked out of the apartment and slammed the door behind him. His anger propelled him to the door of the building, which he yanked open as if another second in this building was unbearable to him. But before he could push through the door, something intangible stopped him. Something like an wall he could neither touch nor see, but that he knew was there. He turned, knowing who was blocking him.

Diana stood in the doorway of the apartment. "Do you still want to be an arcana?"

"That's none of your business. Let me go."

"There's a teacher named Mirelda Jones, living as a high school teacher in Poughkeepsie, New York. She's in the phone book. Another maverick, but a certified one. She'll teach you without caring about any of this. Tell her Diana Faust said you need to be awakened as fast as possible, so the other arcana won't be able to track you down and kill you."

Alan looked back at her. He wanted with all his heart to go back, to stay under Diana's protection. But there was Ward-- he doubted Ward was dead yet-- and all those other arcana. And he knew he could never trust Diana again.

"Thanks," he said, not particularly graciously, and shoved his way through the door. The intangible barrier didn't stop him. He was on his own now.

Maybe, if he went to the Jones woman and she made him an arcana, he could find Diana someday. In a hundred years maybe the hurt would be gone.

He wasn’t going to hold his breath, though.

Alan got into the car with his bag and pulled out.

[neuro-whump]

Lost In Transit, Part 3

This is my entry to the Box Boy Extended Universe which was originally created by @sweetwhumpandhellacomf and written by @shameless-whumper and I’m using a lot of world-building which was done by @ashintheairlikesnow. Still somewhat vague on hospital procedure here, only semi-deliberately.

CN: Dehumanization, human trafficking, mass casualty events (referenced), dehydration, amnesia, mistaken identity, box boy universe, vomiting, bed-wetting, IVs

Part 2

Kenna was already having a bad second unsupervised day of work ever when she left their nameless patient to run his blood to the labs, and and do all the things that her regular assigned patients in the neuro ward still needed even when there was a all-hands-on-deck, honest-to-god mass casualty event filling the ER and flowing out into the hallways, failed to get the charge nurse to find an empty bed, and finally to go back to the ER, which was still overflowing - but maybe, finally, was beginning to overflow less - and managed to look in on him for just a moment before rushing off to take care of all the tasks and people who were more urgent than the scared, disoriented kid huddled in a corner behind a hastily erected curtain.

He didn’t seem better, and she made a note in his chart like she’d been taught and meant to find Joey or Dr. de Courcy and ask about it but Joey was up to her elbows in a code and she couldn’t even find Dr. de Courcy before the next set of ambulances arrived and then she was pulled into a trauma bay with a medical resident and neither of them knew where the burn dressings were and by the time she had time to check on or talk to anyone she had blood spattered on her scrubs and their mystery patient was doubled over being violently sick.

No one else really seemed to have noticed. He was out of the way without a call button and, compared to the general hubbub, not making much noise. And sitting, terribly precariously on a gurney without the side rails up (she should have put those up, why did she forget to put those up). She went over to him and braced his shoulders so he wouldn’t tip off onto the floor. Finding a basin seemed like a waste of effort anyway, he was already a mess.

“I’ve got you,” she said to him, “I’m right here, just just let this happen. It’ll be over soon.”

“I need a hand,” she yelled, and she hoped her patient was too preoccupied to notice how squeaky her voice had come out.

One of the ER nurses - Dana, or was it Carla - stuck her head around the curtain.

“I need -“ Kenna started, then took a breath and tried to sound like a professional, “Joey and Dr. de Courcy assessed him earlier but he’s deteriorating, and de Courcy wants him admitted to neuro and I can’t find a bed.”

Dana-Carla nodded briskly and left again and Kenna, who went back to trying to comfort her patient.

He was still retching periodically, even though he didn’t seem to have much left to bring up, and sobbing pitifully.

“S-sorry,” he gasped, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, “you just got a bit sick, is all.”

Really, he was more than a bit sick, and covered in vomit and dried-on salt and amber coloured urine. Why was he still so dehydrated?

“Is that why you’re upset?” she murmured to him, “because you had an accident? These things happen, no one’s mad, we’ll get you cleaned up right away. Just hang in there.”

She leant over to check his IV, but it was working fine. She opened it up wider anyway and hoped it would help.

“I’m sorry, I - ow,” he started again, and then shuddered and trailed off into a thin, pitiful whine and gagged again, curling up with his arms around his stomach.

Kenna stroked his shoulder a little bit, and tried to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do. He needed a bath, before the stomach acid started burning his skin, and clean bedding and a damn hospital gown because he was still naked under the soiled sheet, and she knew that and knew how to get all those things done in a real ER room, but to get any of those things right now, she’d have to leave her sobbing, disoriented patient unattended because she was actually standing in a corner of the waiting room with a curtain around it which hadn’t come up at any point in training because this whole day was insane.

Kenna was still standing around being an indecisive lump about what to do when Dr. de Courcy swept in. She’d been hoping for Joey.

“There’s an open bed now in 281,” she said, with no preamble, “don’t let them brush you off just because you’re new. When did this start?”

“Sorry,” Kenna sputtered, “um, he was about - that is, unchanged about an hour ago, and he was vomiting when I next saw him.” She could feel herself blushing, she felt like an idiot.

Dr. de Courcy looked them both over, and bent down to talk to their patient. He was already looking at her, he’d quieted and had his eyes fixed on her since she walked in.

“Do you remember swallowing anything before you arrived here 798591?” she asked.

He nodded miserably, with tears streaming out of his eyes.

“Can you tell me what it was?”

“There was some water,” he whispered, “and I thought I was supposed to.”

“And did that taste salty, or unpleasant?”

He nodded, “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I was bad, I’m sorry.”

“You’re just confused,” said Dr. de Courcy, soothingly, “I don’t think you’ve done yourself much serious damage, now, I need you to lie down so I can examine you, and then Kenna is going to take you upstairs and get you properly settled, and hopefully more comfortable.”

It was pretty clear that the last thing he wanted was to have someone press their hands into his obviously tender abdomen and Kenna wished she could stay and hold his hand through it, but he needed the be admitted properly and the ER needed the space and she could, occasionally, take a hint.

When she got back with a wheelchair he was sitting back up with his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach, still staring at Dr. de Courcy while she wrote out a prescription.

“You can give him an H2 antagonist for a few days, for any lingering gastritis,” she said, and handed Kenna the prescription, “I’m not changing Joanna’s prescription for the dehydration, it should work better when he doesn’t have a gut full of salt water and I’ve put in an order for repeat labs.”

Kenna looked at the orders and devoutly hoped she’d be off shift before it was time to redo the labs in the middle of the night.

Dr. de Courcy did help her get their patient into the chair, which Kenna appreciated, and then walked off without any indication of what she was planning to do with him other than store him in the neurology unit, which she did not.

The patient, who still didn’t have a name, Kenna supposed they should be calling him John Doe really, sat quietly and let Kenna dress him in a hospital gown and wrap the blanket he’d been brought in wearing around his shoulders so it wouldn’t get lost, and take him up to room 281 where the hospital gown was promptly tossed in the laundry and the blanket was tossed onto a chair until she could store it with the rest of the patient’s belongings.

“Alright, 79- um, oh boy I wish I knew your actual name, I’m going to give you a shower and get you your medication and then you’ll feel much better, sound good?”

He didn’t answer. He was crying quietly again.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, while she wound plastic around his IV port to keep it dry, “is the pain really bad? Can you tell me if its bad?”

He shook his head, which might have meant it wasn’t, and might have meant that he couldn’t tell her.

“Can you stand up,” she asked, “just until I get you into the shower.”

He nodded.

She got him into the shower and cleaned him off and tried to examine him properly and usefully, like a real nurse. She had definitely been taught how to do this without spattering herself with water, but she needed clean scrubs anyway.

Under the layer of salt and grime he was covered in superficial scrapes and bruises she tried her best not to put any more pressure on them than she had to. He’d obviously fallen forward at some point, there were a matched set of deep grazes on both his knees and the palms of his hands.

There was also a barcode tattooed onto his left wrist, with a tiny neat string of numbers underneath it 7-9-8-5-9-1.

It made a curl of anxiety form in her belly, which, in turn, made her feel a bit like a hysterical little girl.

She focused on talking him through the shower, and getting all the salt out of his hair, and coaxing him into rinsing his mouth out - he seemed uneasy about the mouthwash, which made her think he was still nauseated - and then drying him off and getting him into bed and a clean hospital gown. He was quiet through it, leaning on her a little while she transferred him into the bed, still staring at her with sad dark eyes like a fawn. He looked a little bit like a fawn actually, skinny and wide-eyed. The caramel coloured hair, currently dark from the shower, didn’t help. The thought caught in her head and jammed.

“I’m going to get you that medication now, alright,” she said, “I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t think she likes me,” he said suddenly.

“What’s that sweetie?” she asked.

“She’s going to send me back,” he whispered, his lower lip trembled, “I don’t want her to send me back, I don’t want to be r-refurbished.”

The curl in Kenna’s stomach curled a bit tighter. But she was the professional here. She comforted people while she was at work. People could comfort her when she was off the clock - whenever that actually was today.

“Do you mean Dr. de Courcy?” she asked.

He nodded. Two big tears dripped out of his eyes.

“Oh sweetheart,” she said, “No one’s going to send you anywhere. You’re safe. I promise you’re safe.”

More tears. She decided that, given it was late and they were both having a crappy day, that a few half-truths probably wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Besides,” she continued, “I think Dr. de Courcy likes you just fine. We’re just having a bit of a crazy night, and she’s just sort of scary like that all the time, its just her personality. She scares me too.”

That seemed to work. He nodded and tried to give her a watery little smile. It wasn’t a very good attempt. But she patted his forearm and left to get the prescription, and bandages.

Fawn stared dubiously at the pills when she brought them back.

“I know,” she said, “I know you don’t feel like swallowing anything right now, but these are to help your stomach feel better.”

He took them with a vague look of hurt in her general direction but by the time she’d got him medicated, and settled into bed and dressed the worst of the cuts so he wasn’t bleeding onto the sheets he seemed calmer and better focused.

“What’s this, sweetheart?” she asked him, picking up his tattoo’d wrist.

He looked at it like he’d just noticed it was there.

“The identifying bar code means I can be returned if I am lost,” he said flatly.

Returned to who? Kenna wondered, but she didn’t ask, because she was afraid to hear the answer.

“Well, you’re safe here tonight,” she said, and smoothed the blankets down around him, “and the call button is right here,” she pointed, “so if you need anything at all, or if you’re feeling too unsteady to get to the bathroom and manage the IV pole you can just press on it, and someone will come and help you.”

He nodded, but Kenna had a weird feeling about it, so she said again, “you can press the call button for whatever, okay, even if you’re just afraid. Its okay, its allowed.”

Okay, so, possibly the night-shift staff were going to hate her, but she really wasn’t sure he believed her about the button, and he looked so pitiful.

While she was fussing over him, Joey walked in.

“Carla said there was an issue with the IV?” she asked.

“Oh,” said Kenna, “no, he wasn’t hydrating well, but it turns out he swallowed a bunch of salt water, we think, well, Dr. de Courcy thinks. Dr. de Courcy said the original IV should be fine, but I turned it up bit.”

Joey came over and checked the line, and then bent over to talk to Fawn.

“Feeling any better?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Got a name for us yet?” Joey asked.

Fawn shook his head, “Dr. de Courcy didn’t want to give me one.”

Joey grimaced. In fairness, Kenna also grimaced.

“Well,” she said, “I’ll ask her about that.  Maybe she’ll come up with something.”

Fawn sat up and smiled at her, “really? Is she going to come back?”

“Sure,” said Joey, “ but she’s going to come see you sometime tomorrow and its late now, so you should just try and have a good sleep okay? Would you like Kenna to turn the light off for you?”

“Can it stay on?” Fawn asked in a whisper, lying back down and curling himself up around the pillow and shutting his eyes.

“Sure hon,” said Joey, and left.

Kenna wished him good night, which he didn’t respond to, and went to talk to Joey.

“Everything okay,” Joey asked her, when she caught up.

“I am,” she said, “freaking myself right out.”

“What’s up?” said Joey.

“Fawn - um - John Doe, has a barcode tattooed on his wrist with that number he answers to under it. And he insists he was inside a box and he doesn’t want to be sent back. And its just, way too much.” Kenna explained, all in one go so she couldn’t chicken out half way through, “today is insane. Today is just insane right? People don’t get shipped around in boxes. Right?”

Joey looked at her and just sighed.

“Today is, in fact, insane,” she said, “but I don’t think you are. You need to tell Dr. de Courcy.”

“What,” squeaked Kenna.

“She’s his attending physician,” Joey explained. “Besides, if there’s going to be, like, legal weirdness, we won’t have to wrangle any lawyers if she’s there to do it.”

Kenna gulped, “where do I—“ go tell the most intimidating person in the hospital my insane-sounding, and possibly straight-up insane theories?

“If she’s not still in the ER or in her office she’s probably gone back to lay down in her coffin,” said Joey.

“Why does everyone make that joke?” Kenna asked, “I think you’re the third person I’ve heard say she does that.”

“Oh you don’t—“ Joey started, “I’ll tell you later.”

Kenna found Dr. de Courcy in her office, so at least she didn’t have to make a spectacle of herself in the middle of the ER where people could see her.

“Kenna. Come in,” she said, before Kenna could ask.

“I’m worried about our John Doe,” Kenna started.

“Is he displaying new symptoms?” Dr. de Courcy interjected in the space of Kenna gathering her thoughts.

“No, — I mean —“ Kenna babbled, and then tried to sound professional, “the patient’s condition is unchanged, but some of the observations I’ve made —“ she gave up, it was too late, and she was too tired, and she was going to sound insane either way, “I think John Doe might actually have been, being, you know, um, shipped in a box?”

Dr. de Courcy looked up from her computer and stared at Kenna, “which observations?”

“He talked about being in a box,” said Kenna, “and when I spoke to him earlier he was really scared of being ‘sent back’, and I know he might just be delusional, but he is responding to a string of numbers he has tattooed onto his wrist instead of a name and - and  I know I’ve been watching stupid videos on Youtube, and believe me I’m going to stop, but he’s got a really weird form of amnesia right?”

“He does,” Dr. de Courcy said, “and I will be interested to see how many of my residents are able to make the same observation. And while I do not have what could be reasonably described as an appreciation for your taste in media, I do agree. I’ll write the hospital legal department. How widely have you discussed this?”

“I talked to Joey,” said Kenna.

“That’s fine,” she said, “but please refrain from talking to anyone else until we’ve got either ironclad confirmation . I’d prefer the public outcry to be over facts, rather than speculation, if at all possible.”

“Yes Doctor,” said Kenna, which made her sound like a nurse in a starched cap from an old movie, but honestly Dr. de Courcy just had that effect on people, the more experienced nurses all did it to, and most of the doctors here went by their first names.

[searchingwardrobes]

Start of Time: 3/?

In this chapter, Emma (going by Wendy) meets another character in a surprising way. I really hope Emma’s amnesia and her going by “Wendy” isn’t too confusing. I keep writing “Emma” by accident, then having to change it!

Summary: Killian and his son are driving through a bad snow storm when they find a disoriented woman walking down the road. The question is, how can they help her get home when she has no idea who she is? Written for @teamhook​​ on her birthday.

Rating: T

Words: About 2,000 in this chapter

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @kmomof4​ @thislassishooked​​ @teamhook​​ @bethacaciakay​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @let-it-raines​​ @shireness-says​​ @spartanguard​​ @scientificapricot​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​ @superchocovian​​ @ekr032-blog-blog​​ @kday426​​ @tiganasummertree​​ @jennjenn615​​ @welllpthisishappening​​ @wellhellotragic​​ @optomisticgirl​​ @distant-rose​ @stahlop​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @nikkiemms​​ @vvbooklady1256​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​ @branlovestowrite​​ @hollyethecurious​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​ @snidgetsafan​​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​​  @winterbaby89​​

Come tomorrow I’ll be in the ocean, I’ll be rising with the morning tide

Wendy awoke the next morning when the sun was just beginning to tinge the edges of the darkness. She felt warm and comfortable in her bed, her bumps and bruises slight aches now instead of sharp pains. Even her headache had finally subsided. She lay there in Alice’s narrow twin bed, however, staring at the ceiling. It was painted a dark blue, and glow in the dark stickers of planets and stars dotted its surface. She squinted as she studied them. She didn’t know her constellations very well, but even she could identify the big dipper. Whoever had decorated the ceiling, it wasn’t Alice. Her father perhaps?

She ran her fingers through her still damp hair. She probably shouldn’t have gone to bed with it still wet, but the shower had sapped her energy, and she had been unable to resist the call of the soft pillow and mattress. It had felt absolutely luxurious to slip beneath the sheets clean and fresh. Wendy continued to stare at the simulated night sky above her, trying to remember something other than this house and endless snow, but it was useless.

Wendy knew she wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep, so she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She gathered the fleece lined leggings and the purple sweater one of the kids had dropped off in her room the night before. At least, she assumed it was one of the kids, judging how they had been tossed haphazardly on the bed while she was in the shower. Wendy slipped into them, the sharp scent of cedar filling her nostrils. These had obviously been in storage for a while. Had they belonged to the children’s mother? Where was she?

Since her hair was a tangled mess of wild curls from sleeping on it wet, Wendy grabbed a hair elastic from one of the drawers in the bathroom. It was small, and clearly belonged to Alice, so it would only go around her hair twice. Wendy twisted her hair in a messy bun instead, and it held. It would have to do.

She slipped into a pair of thick socks that had also been left for her, then padded softly out of her room, down the hall, and down the stairs. The house was quiet except for the hum of the central heating. It looked like she was the only one up. She crossed the living room and sat down at a desk that sat against the far wall. A laptop sat on its surface. Killian said it was the kids’, and that they were only allowed to use it here in the living room (to which Henry had groused which defeats the purpose of having a laptop). He also said Wendy was welcome to it as soon as the wifi was back on. The laptop’s password and the wifi password were both scrawled on a sticky note affixed to the screen with the message “In case you need it - Killian.” She smiled as she peeled it off.

As she booted up the laptop, she thought about the man himself. He seemed like a wonderful father, even in the short time Wendy had observed him. He was affectionate with the children, and he spoke to them with respect and seemed to value their opinions, yet he was also clearly protective as evidenced by his rules with the laptop. Not that she was judging him for that - the internet could be a scary place, especially for kids. She typed in the password and leaned back in her chair. Alice also had a menagerie of pets, and both children were obviously well read. Wendy smiled. Yes, they clearly had a good father.

Wendy clicked on the wifi and entered the password, but frowned when the words “no connection” blinked on the screen. She let out a breath of frustration as she closed out of the computer and rose from the desk. She paused in front of the fireplace, staring into the cold hearth as she chewed on her lower lip. She had calmed her fears last night by telling herself she could search the internet for missing persons in Maine. Now what?

She knew what Killian and Mary Margaret would both say - “be patient, the snow will get cleared soon.” It was easy for them to say, though! She wondered how Mary Margaret could be so calm being snowed in away from her husband and young son. Of course, she’d called them on her cell multiple times, and Mary Margaret had explained that she could get back to the farm on her snowmobile long before the roads cleared up. Killian said the sheriff and the doctor could get out here the same way. How far north was she? Even though she couldn’t remember her life, she got the distinct impression that she wasn’t a small town girl. Remote cabins, horse farms, and snowmobiles all felt foreign to her.

Of course, that wasn’t saying much. A lot felt foreign right now.

Wendy let out a sigh and headed for the kitchen. If she couldn’t search for her identity, she had to occupy herself some other way. Killian had cooked three amazing meals yesterday, and she felt maybe she could return the favor. She did remember one thing about herself - she couldn’t cook anything but breakfast. She didn’t know her real name, but she knew she could make some awesome pancakes. Bizarre.

She opened the pantry and smiled to find a box of pancake mix. (Hey, she never said her awesome pancakes were homemade.) She set the box next to the stove, then went to pull milk and eggs out of the fridge. It took her a few tries to find the right cabinet, but eventually she located the frying pan and bent down to pull it out.

“Who the bloody hell are you?”

Wendy screamed and dropped the frying pan when she saw a strange man in the middle of the Jones family kitchen. The sound of metal hitting the tile floor was painfully loud in the still house. Above her, she heard feet pound and a door slam. The man before her was tall and broad, with curly, light brown hair. His arms were crossed over his chest as he glared at her.

“Who the hell are you?” she yelled back, coming to her senses enough to snatch up the frying pan and hold it up like a weapon.

“Me? You’re the one standing in the middle of my brother’s kitchen wearing his dead wife’s clothes.”

“Liam!” Killian’s sharp voice came from over Wendy’s shoulder.

She relaxed slightly and lowered the frying pan. “Brother?”

“Aye, brother,” the man - Liam, apparently - moved his hands to his hips, his scowl just as intense despite Killian’s sudden presence. “I live in the apartment over the barn. Where the hell did you come from?”

“Liam, for the love of God, would you stop yelling at her? How’d you get over here anyway?”

“The snow’s melted just enough for me to shovel out a little. Then I walked over here on my snowshoes. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, little brother, who is this woman?”

“Younger brother, and Henry and I came across her on our way home when the storm hit. She’d been in an accident -”

“She is standing right here and can speak for herself!” Wendy snapped.

“Okay,” said Liam smugly, “fill me in. What happened? Who are you?”

“Don’t grill her like that!”

“I’m asking her a simple question!”

“Stop!” Wendy shouted, dropping the frying pan again and pressing her hands to her head. Her headache was back, and it felt as if it were splitting her skull in two. She couldn’t keep back a groan of pain.

“Wendy!” Killian cried as he rushed to her side. “Is it your head?”

“Uh huh,” she bit out. She couldn’t even open her eyes. The lights in the kitchen were too bright. Killian put his arm around her and made to help her out of the room. When she stumbled, he scooped her up into his arms. It was only then she realized he was shirtless. His skin was warm, and when she rested her hand on his chest she found it covered in thick, soft hair. Her temple rested against a strong collar bone, and the arm around her waist flexed with muscle. If not for the splitting pain in her head, it would have been . . . nice.

Okay, nice was an understatement, but she was currently trying not to puke all over the man. She could daydream about his strong arms, solid chest, and masculine scent later.

He deposited her gently onto Alice’s bed, then went to fetch her a cool rag. She murmured her thanks when he pressed it to her throbbing temple.

“I’m so sorry about my brother,” he apologized. “He can be a bit overprotective, even more so since my Milah passed.”

“Was she your wife?” she managed to choke out.

“Aye.”

“So I am wearing her clothes.”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Stress can aggravate your head injury. Just rest, okay?”

“I was trying . . . “

“Shhh,” he admonished gently, brushing her hair back. It had somehow fallen out of Alice’s hair elastic.

“I was trying,” she continued stubbornly, “to make pancakes. For you. All of you.”

Her eyes were still shut tight, but she felt him take her hand and squeeze it. “That was a lovely thought.” He lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “But let us take care of you. We don’t mind. I promise.”

Something about his voice was soothing, and Wendy felt sleep pulling her under.

**********************************************

Killian stopped in his bedroom to grab a tshirt, and chuckled to find Alice flung across his bed, still fast asleep despite all the noise downstairs. He hadn’t heard Henry stirring either when he’d fetched the cloth for Wendy, so he hurried downstairs to confront his brother before the children woke. He knew this wasn’t going to be pretty.

When he saw his brother still standing in his kitchen, his hand in a box of Cap’ n Crunch, his anger returned in full force.

“What is your bloody problem!” Killian roared, bending to pick up the frying pan.

Liam’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “I think the proper question is what the bloody hell are you thinking?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You brought home a strange woman? With your kids here?”

“She was wandering around without a proper coat with a gash on her head! What was I supposed to do? Leave her out there to freeze to death?”

“So you thought dressing her up in Milah’s clothes and giving her free range of the house was a good idea? What will the kids think?”

Killian rolled his eyes. “They think exactly the same thing I do - that she’s in trouble and we’re helping her. And as for Milah’s clothes, they were the only women’s things I had. They’re not doing anyone any good sitting in a chest in the back of the closet.”

“Do you even know anything about here?”

“No, actually,” Killian mumbled running a hand through his hair. “She has amnesia.”

“Oh, that’s convenient.”

“It’s true!”

“You need to call the cops!”

“Of course I’ve done that,” Killian snapped. God, sometimes Liam acted like he was still a boy. “They’re just as paralyzed by the storm as everyone else. Graham said he’d get out here to talk to her as soon as a snowmobile could make it through. Vincent will do the same and check her injuries. In the meantime, we’re just trying to make her as comfortable as we can.”

Liam deflated somewhat and tossed another handful of cereal into his mouth. “Well, I guess all that makes sense,” he conceded after chewing and swallowing.

“I don’t need your approval,” Killian ground out.

Liam sighed and set the cereal box down on the counter. “I’m sorry if I freaked out. I just worry about you, that’s all. I’ll never forget the shell of a person you were after you lost Milah.”

“You never approved of her.”

“I didn’t approve of how it began, but once you adopted the kids . . . “ Liam shook his head. “She loved you, that was always clear, and I never would have wished cancer on her. Surely you know that.”

Killian ran a hand wearily over his face. They had talked this subject to death, and he was sick of it. “Look, can we just leave Milah out of this?”

“Okay, but be careful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Liam tilted his head. “The way you carried her up the stairs? I’ve seen that look on your face before.”

“I just met her!”

Liam stepped closer and put a hand gently on Killian’s shoulder. “You’ve been alone for a long time. So like I said, be careful.”

Henry burst into the room then, excited to see his uncle and pestering Killian about possibly going outside. Killian was glad for the reprieve as he turned to the stove to get breakfast started. Liam was off the mark on everything, clearly.

I’ve seen that look on your face before.

Killian massaged his brow and suppressed a groan. Yes, his brother was clearly off the mark.

[avengerscompound]

Switch

Switch: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x F!Reader

Rating:  E

Word Count:  2691

Warnings:  smut (M|F, Virginity loss, oral and vaginal sex, it’s pretty vanilla but also the weirdest sex scene I’ve ever written)

Synopsis:   Touching people means you swap bodies with them.  It has meant that since your powers kicked in as a child you have avoided all body contact. Clint offers to give you the touch you have been craving for so long.

A/N:  For the @clintbartonbingo fill:  Body Swap

Switch

You twisted your gloved hands together, looking down at them without raising your eyes.  You knew Clint was waiting for an answer.  You could see him in your peripheral shifting nervously in his seat.

The thing was, your initial reaction was to say yes.  Truthfully, you were touch starved.  You hadn’t been held properly by anyone since your powers had come in as a child and you had body swapped with your mom who was giving you a birthday hug.  After that, it was just tentative pats on the shoulder where people were extremely careful not to make skin contact.  Which was just as well really.  Swapping bodies with people was horrible.

It always felt like you had fallen rapidly and then jerked to a stop, leaving you disoriented.  Then you were left facing yourself wearing an even more disoriented and slightly nauseated expression on your face.  It wasn't like looking in a mirror either. It was somehow worse because now you saw yourself how others saw you.  Something no person was ever supposed to experience.  It always made your head spin - even if it had happened several times before.

Then all the weird little differences would kick in.  Body shape, weight, sex, the hormone differences from person to person.  People perceived color differently thanks to the numbers of cones and rods their eyes.  They tasted things differently too.

A personality is formed from a lot of things.  Experience.  Your brain function.  Nutrition.  Hormone levels.  Body swapping just left you with experience and being in the body of a person with depression, anxiety, bipolar, or even things like schizophrenia, dissociative identity disorder or antisocial personality disorders affected you.  It made it hard to think clearly or rationally.  If they heard voices so did you.  It wasn't like you didn't have your own set of medical conditions both physical and mental to deal with, you didn't really need anyone else's.

So you always covered up, head to toe.  All the time.  Never wanting to risk an accidental touch.  Even around people that you liked.  Shit, even around your pets.  It really, really sucked getting swapped with an animal.  They panicked hard and would bolt scrambling away on all fours in your hijacked body and you would have to chase after them so you could switch back.

But you did miss it touch.  You wanted to be held by someone and not worry about being jerked into their body.  You wanted to know what it was like to have someone's lips against yours.  To feel what sex was actually like and not just what it felt like to masturbate.

So now Clint had offered to just do it anyway.  To switch and just keep going.  You were tempted.  Maybe even if it was his body. It might still feel good.

Plus, you did love him.  You hated that his loving you meant he missed out.  This had definitely never been in the plans.  You had planned to spend your life alone.

But Clint was annoying.  That good kind of annoying where he was always there to make sure you were okay because he was very not okay and if he could make sure other people were that at least was something.  He hadn't planned to fall in love either.  He just didn't want you to isolate yourself.  So anytime you pushed people away he pushed back with pizza and a movie.  Or some story about the circus.  Or taking you out to teach you archery.

Then, because you kept pushing and he kept pushing back you just fell into a rhythm of being side by side and not touching.

Then he began to touch.

It was never skin contact and it started simple.  A hand on your back, a pat on the shoulder.  Then it was more.  His hand on your leg.  Wrapping his arms around your waist.  A kiss on the top of your head while your hood was pulled up. Giving your ass a smack as he passed you.

Those weren't enough though.  You had both needed more.

You experimented.  Masturbating while sitting watching the other.  Letting him palm at your pussy or breasts through your clothes.  Once you had put on three pairs of latex gloves, lubed up your palm and jerked him off to completion.  It has felt oddly sterile though, given you didn't want to risk his hands on you and you definitely didn't want to kiss.

God, how you wanted to kiss him.  You wanted to be able to have his arms around you and not worry that your shirt might ride up and then you were suddenly the one doing the holding.  You wanted to lie naked and have his skin against yours.  To have his cock buried to the hilt inside your cunt.

You could say yes, but would you even get to feel that if you tried?

“It doesn't feel good when it happens and there's a pretty high chance we’ll keep flipping back and forth while it's happening.  Might not lend itself to lovemaking,” You said, not looking at him.

“We can stop if we don’t like it.  This is just a ‘try it and see’,” Clint said.

“Don’t you think it would be weird to look at yourself while you're having sex.  Like… having sex with yourself?”

He shrugged.  “Everything I do is weird.  I’ll close my eyes if I have to.  It’s still going to be you I’m with.”

You fidgeted with the fingers of your gloves wanting to say yes but not having the courage to do it.  He reached over the table and put his hand on yours.  Even that small gesture of his hand on your gloved skin was enough to reassure you and send a tingle through you.  “If you really don’t want to, it’s okay.  I just… I want to try to give a little of what you keep saying you want.”

You raised your eyes to his.  He smiled, making his eyes crinkle at the corners.  “Okay.  We can try it.”

“Okay.  Great.  Great.  Right,” Clint said pulling his chair up and standing up.  “Okay.  So how do you want to do this?”

You stood up and started to take off your gloves and the hoodie you wore.   “Let’s start with a kiss. Then see how you feel.”

Clint nodded and stepped closer to you.  He held his hands out awkwardly and slowly placed them on your hips.  You moved a little closer and he started to lean into you.  “Clint,” you said quietly.

“Mmm?”  He hummed leaning in a little more.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” you replied.

“Then we’ll make it count.”

You bridged the difference and when your lips touched you feel the tug deep in you, followed by the feeling of vertigo, and suddenly you were inside Clint.  Clint jerked back suddenly and you opened your eyes.  He was a different body shape and more muscular.  His vision much, much better.  The height was off too.  There was a disconcerting feeling of occupying space differently, but it was nowhere near as disconcerting as looking at your own body standing opposite you looking down at itself.  “Is this really how you see blue?”  He asked.

You started laughing and the sound was off, muffled and a little and too deep.  “It’s weird, right?  You can back out.”

He shook his head - your head - and took a few steps forward.  “No, no I’m still up for it.  You wanna give it a go?”

You nodded your head and his hands went to your hips again.  Or your hands went to his.  It was hard to keep track of these things.  You kissed again.  There was the tug and the feeling of falling and you were you again kissing Clint Barton.  With your own lips moving against his.  Like you had dreamed about and wished for.  Only better.  His tongue slipped out and coaxed your lips apart as his hands slid up under your shirt.  A first.  No one in your memory had ever touched your stomach.  Nor had they moved their hand so gently up to your breast and cupped it.

Tug and rush and you were inside Clint again and it was you cupping his breast and your tongue running over his teeth.  He groaned softly and you pulled back breaking the kiss but leaving your hands on his skin.

“Bedroom?”  You asked.

He nodded, his eyes blown out and slightly dazed.  “Yes,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.  It was always weird hearing yourself talk.  “Yeah.  Let’s do this.”

You let him go and went to the bedroom.  When you got there, you froze not sure what to do or how this was possibly going to work.  Clint came up behind you.  “I say we get naked,” he said.

“Can I look in the mirror while I do?”  You asked.

He grinned.  “That sounds like a great idea.”

You both stood in front of the mirrors on the closet door and stripped off your close.  You kept your eyes trained on yourself taking in Clint’s athletically, toned body with his various, cuts, bruises and scars.  When you got to the underwear you paused.  You could already feel how his cock was hardening.   You had seen him naked before.  More than once.  You’d even seen him hard.  But now you were nervous. Like it was invasive to see him naked and hard when it was you controlling his body.

You took a breath and lowered his boxers.  His cock sprung up and you started giggling at how ridiculous this was.

“Hey don’t laugh at my dick,” Clint teased as he stood looking at himself in the mirror.  He cupped your breasts and turned around.

“Well stop perving on me,” you teased back.

“I like perving on you.”

You sighed and turned to look at him as he stood there in your body.  “Okay, so now what?”

“Alright.  Because it’s your first time you’re gonna need to be super ready.  I’ll go down on you, which will start with me actually going down on you but then probably will switch.  You think you can handle that?”  He said.

“I - I don’t know,” you answered, thinking about how weird it would be to eat yourself out.  “I guess we can try.”

“Yeah, we can,” Clint teased.  “Alright, I’ll lie back on the bed, you get between my legs and then touch me.”

You nodded and the two of you moved into position.  Him laying back on the bed and you between his legs.  You looked down at your naked body stretched out and legs spread before you. It was odd to say the least.  You put your hands on your thighs and…

Switch.  Clint dropped his head between your legs before that feeling of vertigo had even passed.   It was like he placed a large open mouth kiss on your pussy, and his tongue swirled around.  It was like nothing you had ever felt.  Intimate and sensitive.  It sent a current running through you and you bucked up under his mouth.

Whether it was because you were so touched starved or because this was what sex was like, or just that Clint was really, really good at what he did, you weren’t sure, but it was good.  Too good.  You went from being nervous and overthinking it to being unable to focus on anything except the pleasure that was surging through you.  When he pushed a finger inside you…

Switch.  The vertigo was enhanced by the smell and taste of your own pussy and there was a moment of severe cognitive dissonance when your own feeling of how weird and wrong this was mixed with how much Clint had liked doing it.  You pulled back and Clint let out a loud moan.  “Use your hands.  Gotta keep going so it doesn’t hurt,” he babbled.

You nodded and curled your fingers more and began to rub your clit like you knew you liked.  Clint moaned and arched his back.  “Fuck, that’s… that’s… fuck.”

You knew how to get yourself off, so you kept going, fucking your pussy with your finger and working your clit.  You added a second finger and were just teasing with a third when…

Switch.  You moaned loudly and you hips bucked up violently.  You had brought your own body so close to the edge that when you suddenly crashed back down into it, it knocked you over, and you cried out loudly as you came over Clint’s hand.

He smirked down at you and keeping his hand on your thigh he removed his hand.  “God, look at you,” he hummed as he climbed up over you.

He leaned down and kissed you deeply.  You could taste the faint traces of yourself on his lips as they moved with yours.  He pressed his cock against your cunt and began to slide it back and forth between your folds.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he said.

“You’ll probably feel that for yourself,” you teased.

He chuckled and slowly began to sink his cock into you.  There was a pinch as your cunt stretched to fit him.  You let out a sound that was half moan half whimper and dug your fingers into his back.

“You okay,” he asked.

“Yes.  Just go slow.”

He kissed you again and keep slowly easing in, letting your body naturally stretch to take him.

Switch.  Along with the dizziness, you could felt the tight, wet heat of your cunt squeezing his cock.  It felt so good.  Intense.  It sent a heat out through you that seemed to form like a pit in your just.   “Fuck, Clint,” you groaned.

He moaned and grabbed your ass.  You bit at his lips, not wanting to open your eyes and have this pleasure you were feeling dampened by seeing yourself.  You pushed forward and Clint pushed your hips and groaned.

“Go slow, honey.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you mumbled, burying your face in his neck.  “Feels so good.”

“Yeah, it does. But it won’t when you switch back if you don’t ease up.”

You slowed down, focusing on the way your cunt clenched and released until you were up to the hilt.

Switch.  You moaned loudly and you eyes flew open.  “Fuck.  Clint.  Please fuck me.”

He grinned down at you and started to thrust.  You writhed under him.  Letting yourself go and just enjoy it.  A second orgasm started to build and you bunched your hands in the sheets as Clint thrust slowly and deeply into you.

Switch.  Now it was you that was doing the doing the thrusting.  It was both more sensitive and more controlled.  You could feel the throb of his dick as you cunt squeezed and fluttered around it.  You bunched your hand in his hair.  His hand in your hair.  It was too hard to keep track.  He moaned when you did and arched up, pushing your breasts against his chest.

“Hold on.  Hold on, babe.  I want you to feel yours,” he groaned.

You gritted your teeth and began to pant through them. Waiting for that tug as you continued to thrust.  Not being sure you could make it.

You fell and when you landed back in your body you came.  Hard.  Your whole body seized up and you arched up violently, your body twisting.  “Fuck!”  You cried.

Clint grabbed the headboard and his hips snapped into you as he released inside you with a deep groan.

“Holy shit.”  You panted as he rolled off you.  You quickly wrapped yourself in the blanket to stop any accidental skin contact as soon as he let you go.  “That’s what I was missing out on.”

Clint began to laugh.  An exhausted breathless laugh.  “I don’t think it’s ever been like that for me before, honey.  But yeah.”  He turned to face you and wrapped his hand in a sheet before tracing his finger down your cheek.  “We can do it again as much as you like.”

“Really?”  You asked.

“Really.”

You smiled, and in the very first act of pure impulse you’d made since your powers kicked in, you leaned over and kissed him.  There was a tug, and you fell.