#also uh. please pour one out for him. because he’s a hope spirit who has to live in minrathous which is about as healthy for him as living | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

turtle-go-brrrr · 4 years ago

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Scratch my shell, I scratch yours

A/N: Heya! So remember two posts ago where I said I wouldn't write fics because I'm not confident enough in my writing to post it? Yeah, me neither. I started writing this at 6 am because I couldn't sleep and kept working on it during the day, so enjoy ^^(I got a little tired at the end, and i think you can feel it ;w; hope it’s good enough anyway!)

Also, I’m a sucker for platonic intimacy, and there is a severe lack of platonic x reader in this fandom

Fun fact: the Shell is both the Dorsal (part on the back) AND the Plastron (part on the front).

Requested: No

Pairing: None, platonic

Word count: 2500 +

Triggers: None

Summary: You make an embarrassing suggestion that they surprisingly accept.

_____________________________________________________________

The idea came to you in a random conversation you had as you sat on their couch.

"But wait, you can really reach everywhere? Like if I touch here-", you point to a crevice in the middle of his shell. "You're telling me you can bend your arm enough to get here?"

Leonardo gently takes your wrist and pull your hand away. "I mean, we have some of those telescopic scrubs to help, you know? Or we can just ask each other to get to the hard places if it's really complicated."

Oh.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."

You have been asking a few questions about their shells after Raphael started showing off some of his scars, fascinated by the intricate patterns you could see on your friends. The topic of cleaning has be brought up, and as your curiosity took charge, your brain decided to embarrass you as much as it could.

"Do you think I could help?"

Only the faint background music Mikey had set up earlier could be heard as your mutant friends looked at you, eyes wide open.

Oh, that came out wrong.

"Wait, that's not what I-", you start to explain your line of thoughts when you get interrupted by the smug look Mikey sent you, as he harbored a teasing smile.

"Oh? I didn't realize that's what you meant when you said you wanted to hang out more," he wiggles his eyebrows as your nervous laughter fills the room.

"Hold on, I can explain."

Silence again.

"Oh, you're actually listening?"

"I mean, I think we're all dying to know why on earth you'd want to take a shower with us. You're not usually this upfront with your affection," Donatello chimes in. He's not even looking at you in the eyes, but doesn't really try to hide that stupid smirk.

Bastard.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on not letting the embarassement take over, but your voice shakes imperceptibly, and you can feel youself start to sweat. Great.

"Okay, so I was thinking : you guys always do so much for the city and never get anything in return. I remember Mikey told me that you guys love shell scratches, and now I can see that you have some trouble cleaning it, so maybe I can help with that��? Kinda like a massage sort of thing, it doesn’t have to be weird if no one makes it. Now obviously we’ll be wearing swimsuits, we’re not close enough for… you know… actually taking a shower together, " you try clearing your throat discretly. You hear a muffled laugh from Raph.

"Anyway, I think Casey knows where to buy the best animal care product. I think human stuff might not be suitable for your shells, and I read somewhere that water was the best way to clean a turtle shell anyways, but if you have suggestions just let me know what you usually use. Do you even have swimsuits ? Doesn’t matter, I’m sure we can find you some-"

As you rambled on, the slight shame started to wear off and you were able to explain your line of thoughts more clearly. The awkwardness of the situation seemed to settle down, even if your friends were absolutely going to tease you about it later. Leonardo seemed hesitant, though.

"I don’t know, man. Are you sure about this ? I don’t want you to feel like you have to. We can take care of ourselves, you know."

"I’m not gonna force you if you don’t want to, I’m just offering because I want to do something nice for you guys. You can’t really take a break, but you could at least relax a bit."

"I’m up for it." You didn’t expect Raph to agree so quickly, but maybe you should have anticipatd that as you look at the bags under his eyes. "I mean, the worst thing that could happen is falling asleep while getting a massage from a friend. Kinda sounds like a dream if you ask me. "

‘Well that was easy,’ you think as your face lightens up.

"Besides, we can laugh at them for wanting to shower with us. Didn’t think you’d want to be so intimate, " he purrs as he gives you a side glance.

Oh. Bastard number two.

"Alright. Sure. You know what, fair game, " you laugh it off. Mikey puts a reassuring arm around your shoulders as Donnie places his legs on your laps.

"We do have swimwear, so you don’t need to worry about that. And you were right about using only water to clean it, as human products tends to make us itchy afterwards. There are some types of oil we use sometimes to nourish our shells, however. I think the only thing we might need to look into is new brushes. The ones we have are, hum, barely hanging on."

You send a quick text to Casey and April to let them know about the plan after making a short list of supplies with Leo, who ended up agreeing.

It didn’t take that much convincing.

____________________________

Saturday came fast. After getting all the necessary supplies with Casey, you both made your wait to the lair to join April. They had both agreed to help you in your task, because 'damn, they really need some appreciation'.

"When do you think they'll be back?" You ask Splinter as he offers you a cup of spiced tea.

"Usually around one in the morning, unless they were delayed."

Unless something went wrong.

But those dark thought quickly faded away as you heard the faint echo of Mikey's laughter as he recalled their night. Light chatter filled the room as they took off their gear and put away their weapons, and April hushed them to get changed and take a quick shower so they could get started and finally have some sort of a break.

You could see they were excited as they each went their own way, waiting for their turn to the shower.

When you live in the sewers and try to turn it into a living space, you have to do what you can with what you have. And sometimes, what you have is a large space that you can turn into a huge bathroom, with multiple showers and a large bathtub; but what you don't have is privacy. So big communal bathroom it is.

In this specific case, it's a good thing, because it means you can all chill together as you get to work on their shells. Once everyone was settled in, April motioned them to sit on some of the chairs you put up. She opens the bag Casey and you brought and starts getting the multiple brushes and bottle out.

"You have to understand that you guys are, uh, gigantic. So try to stay at our level, okay? And stay put, please. Anyway, here is what we've got for you: there are multiple brushes - one of each type for each of you - and some are harder than the others. Don't worry, we'll try not to scrub your shell off of you," she winks at that, and holds back a laugh at Raph's worried expression.

She continues. "We also found the oil Donnie told us about, and we bought multiple bottles. You'll have a stack for next time." She then gets one last bottle out that she puts aside.

"That one is for Splinter. To make his fur all soft and shiny," you butt in with an innocent smile. The old man deserves a treat too.

Casey laughs at that and says, "So, there's tree of us and four of you. Who is okay waiting for his turn?"

Silence.

After a solid minute, Leonardo sighs and volunteers to let his brothers enjoy a well deserved spoiling session. Mikey, instead of sitting on a chair like a normal person, choose instead to lay down on the bathroom floor.

"You said it was basically a massage, right? Now it really feels like it!"

"Oh, good idea. I'm this close to getting a pillow and having the nap of my life," Donnie says, putting his fingers together.

"Your fingers are touching."

"I know," he gives you a side smile as he starts to get up, but you quickly bring him back to reality. "But there's gonna be water everywhere?" You sit down next to where he just was and watch as he goes back to where he sat, sending you a disapproving side glance.

"Let a turtle dream, will you?" He lays down on his stomach, puts his head on his arms, and scouts closer to you.

You watch Raph get settled on a chair next to Casey, putting his arms on the backrest as April hands you one of the harder brushes. Leo makes a quick trip to the kitchen and brings back some water, a few snacks, and a copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne.

"Again," you start. "There's gonna be water everywhere. Are you sure bringing a book here is a good idea?"

He gives you a sly smile. "Gotta live up to my name."

What?

"What?"

"You know," Mikey interrupts. "Fearless."

"Oh. Right. Well, don't come crying when you drop it into a puddle then." But you offer him a plastic bag anyway, to hold his book with it in case he wets his hands.

"You sure you're okay waiting?" Casey asks him as he starts pouring water over Raph's back.

"Yeah, don't worry. I have things to keep me busy anyway."

______________________________

It took one swipe of the brush from April for Mikey to start... what was the word? Churring.

A low rumble coming from his throat that had kind of the same function as a cat's purr, Donnie explained. It was an expression of contentment or happiness, that sometimes even happended when they needed reassurance.

Adorable.

"I can't believe you guys can purr and never told me." Raph doesn't even bother opening his eyes when he answers you, "We knew you'd take advantage of that. Didn't want to be babied by the tiniest human we ever met."

Asshole.

You went back and forth with the gruff turtle, always in good spirit though. Conversations flowed, laughter were exchanged, and everyone managed to lighten up. Master Splinter joined the group at some point, and was just glad to spend some time with his family - all of it. He also started to take cared of Leo’s dorsal, to his delight.

You don't exactly know when, but some time after Donnie started to let go some soft churrs as you scrubbed the dirt off of his shell, you stopped listening to the current topic and started to really focus on your task.

Scrapping the dirt hidden in between every crevice, rubbing the largest scales, you were surprised by the look of the bare shell of your nerdy friend. You never really stopped to observe this particular feature the four brothers harbored, not only out of decency, but also because it was always covered. Gear and clothes, backpack and tech, dirt and blood, there was always something hiding the intricate patterns of their shells.

You unconsciously slowed down to really take in what you were seeing, your fascination and curiosity taking over your wish to help.

"I don't know why, but I never expected your shell to be so colorful," you say after wiping away the dirty water from the left side of his back. You didn’t mean to say it at loud, but he doesn't answer you. However, you do get something from Mikey.

"Man, you should see mine! Don helped me create an organic paint so I can paint my shell without hurting myself with a bunch of chemicals, and it looks sooo damn good-"

"Shh!"

"... Did they- Did you just shush me?"

"Shhh!" You whisper yell this time. You then give a side glance toward the sleeping turtle under you.

"Annw. Good luck waking him up."

"Yeah, I'm... not doing that. He needs his sleep," you laugh quietly.

______________________________

It took the three of you around an hour to deep clean their shells. Even Raph was finally letting go and softly churring at the end. Mikey was loud enough to have trouble speaking, and Donnie was still asleep. Splinter was still working meticulously on his son, who, he could tell, had a hard time holding back the content churrs that threatened to spill out.

You get up and strech, feeling your joints crack and already anticipating how sore you’ll be tomorrow. The muscles in your arms were burning, and you couldn’t feel your butt anymore, but it was worth it. You’ve never seen the four mutants so relaxed before.

Remembering the oils, you went toward the towels to dry your friend’s back and give the final touch to, what you’d grow to refer to, your work of art. You gave a few head scratches to Raph, who was dozing off with a lazy smile, and went back to Donatello. You slowly dried his dorsal when you felt him shift under your hands.

"Hey buddy," you speak softly. He whispers a ‘hey’ you can barrely hear.

"I’m almost done. I just have to put the oil, then you can let it dry and go to sleep, okay ? " You open the bottle and get a paintbrush, with which you start coating his shell with a thin layer of oil. You can hear his soft churrs start again.

Casey accidentally dropped the bottle of oil on Raph’s back and was desperatly trying to gather as much as he could. "Shi- Fuck, wait-"

"Here, give me some. Thanks to you, I don’t have to open mine, " April said with a smirk. She helped him clean up before going back to Mikey, who raised himself on his forearms and watched the scene unfold with a tired smile.

It took only around twenty minute to put the oil on their shells and get it almost dried up. Once it was done, you helped Splinter and Casey clean up as April let her dizzy friends hold onto her, guiding them on their way to their room. Once it was all done, you waved Leo good night as Raph ruffled your hair and went to sleep. Mikey gave you a big hug and thanked you for the ‘bonker idea’ and made you promise to do it again soon, which you agreed on.

April was already sleeping in the big armchair next to the couch, Casey in a sort of little nest of blankets and pillows at her feet. As you made your way to the couch – your makeshift bed for the night – Donnie was passed out cold on it already. And, boy, does he takes up a lot of space.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned to see Splinter standing next to you. "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you borrowing his bed for the night. "

"I– are you sure ? "

"He stole yours. He’ll live. " A gentle smile tugged at his lips as he guided you to your friend’s room, offering you a spare blanket and pillow. "Have a good night, Y/N. You know where to find me if you need anything."

”Thank you, Master Splinter.” You can feel your eyelid close on their own, and decide to finally call it a night. You got settled as best you could in the bed, and fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

A warm breakfast would await you in the morning.

#tmnt x reader #tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #i was supposed to make headcanons about them getting their shell scratched #but my brain did this #took me at least 8h #idk if im 100% satisfied but hey #im really excited about posting it ^^#hope you liked it!

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quicksilverownsmysoul · 4 years ago

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Girl Scout pt. 2

Part one didn’t do too well so idk if I’ll continue this series or not. Plus I don’t really like how I wrote this part. Y’all know how I am with series 😭 but I hope y’all like it!!

Peter Maximoff x reader fic

Summary: Lorna breaks her leg and is no longer able to sell Girl Scout cookies for her contest. So Peter is forced to become an honorary girl scout and sell them for her. And in doing so meets someone who might be able to help him win.

Word count: 1334

Read Part One Here

Peter had assumed that it wasn't going to be all that hard to sell girl scout cookies. But he was so wrong, no one in the neighborhood was too eager to buy cookies from a grown man in a little girl's uniform. They would open the door, take one look at him and then shove it closed in his face. It also didn't help that he kept dropping all the boxes and having to go back to get them. At this point they were nothing but crumbs, he had run over some of them once or twice.

He had almost sold one box to this man around his age. But even after he had “proved” he was a girl scout as the man had asked, doing pushup and naming some of the patches on his satch. The man ended up buying a box from a different girl scout, from Sandra to be exact. His sister’s nemesis had given him this sickly sweet smile as the man handed her a twenty in exchange for 3 boxes plus a tip. After the man closed the door she turned to face him, her face now sporting a cruel smirk. “A little early for Halloween.” She stated. “What are you supposed to be anyway? A losing girl scout.”

“What no?” Peter said with a bewildered look on his face, wondering why this child was attempting to insult him. “I’m just trying to help my sister win a bike.”

“Fat chance old man.”

“Old man?” Peter interrupted. “I’m only in my twenties.”

“I already have the bike in the bag. There’s no way you can catch me.” She looked him up and down with a sneer. “Especially looking like that.”

“You know what, I am going to beat you.” Peter said with a new spirit of competitiveness in his soul. He never wanted to hit a 12 year old more in his life than right now.

She laughed at him, not believing his threat. “How many boxes have you sold?”

“Uh none.”

“That’s what I thought.” Sandra turned on her heel, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder as she did so. “Goodluck old man.”

“I’m not an old man!” Peter shouted after her retreating form, she just waved to him as she dragged her now empty wagon behind her.

As the sun began to set Peter began to lose all hope of even selling one box. He sighed and climbed the steps to the last house on the street, knocking half heartedly. He cursed as the movement made him drop all of his boxes on to the floor. When you opened the door you were greeted with a man around your age in a girl scouts uniform, cursing as he tried to pick up the boxes he had dropped. Each time he got one he dropped another, he bent down a little too quickly and his sash tore into two. You let out a giggle making him look up at you with a bright red face.

“Uhhh hey.”

“Hey.” You replied bending down to help him pick up his crumbled boxes. “Aren’t you a little old to be a girl scout?”

“Surprisingly that’s not the first time I’ve been asked that today.” You hand skimmed his and he shot off your porch, nearly crashing into your mailbox.

“What was that?” You asked with wide eyes.

“Uhhh, nothing.” Peter quickly replied.

You watched from your porch as Peter made his way back over to you. As he came closer you began to recognize his features, and you realized that you had seen him around before. “Are you the guy that was racing with his sister down the hill and lost her in my flower garden?”

“That’s me.” You laughed at his embarrassed tone.

“So why are you wearing what used to be a girl scouts uniform?” You picked up the sash that had torn in two, thumbing over the carefully stitched name on the front. You handed it back to Peter and he cursed at seeing it’s wrecked state.

“Lorna’s gonna kill me for tearing this.”

“I can sew it for you real quick if you want.” You pointed back to your house. “Do you wanna come in for a minute? And you can explain what it is exactly that you are doing.”

Peter looked at you with a curious look, wondering why you were being so nice to him. Truth be told you had seen him around the neighboorhood before and if you were being totally honest you had developed a small crush on the silver haired man. And inviting him in to fix what you assumed was his sister’s sash seemed like a good excuse to talk to him. Peter’s intense gaze was making you flustered, in seeing you turn away a blush took hold of Peter’s face. “Yeah that would be nice.”

“So let me get this straight.” You passed Peter a cup of lemonade, sitting down across from him. “You are selling girl scout cookies for your sister because she broke her leg, and you’re trying to win her a bike?”

Peter nodded along, the too small girl scout hat bopping adorably on his head. “And to beat her nemesis Sandra.”

“She has a nemesis?” You finished mending the sash, a long white line now scarred the surface. “What did this girl do?” You giggled, passing the sash back to Peter who gave you a grateful smile.

“Well according to Lorna she thinks she’s better than anyone and has won the contest three years running.”

“She can't be that bad.”

“Oh trust me she is.” Peter’s eyes narrowed at recalling his earlier encounter. “She’s a total brat.”

“Are you allowed to call other children brats?” You fought back your laughter at his seriousness.

“You are when they call you an old man.”

“She called you an old man?” Laughter filled the room from both of you. Peter telling you to stop laughing through his own joy at seeing you so happy. “Is it because of the hair?”

“Hey!”

After a couple minutes your laughter died down as you regained your composure. “Well you are far from being an old man. You are a very handsome young man.” You winked at him as you took his empty cup from him. Peter’s face erupted in heat as he mumbled out a thank you. You placed his cup in the sink and turned around leaning back against the counter. “So aren’t you going to ask me?”

“Ask you what?” Peter’s heart pounded at your vague question. Were you hinting for him to ask you out. Cause he really wanted to but he would have prefered to do it when he wasn’t dressed as a girl scout.

“If I wanna buy some cookies?”

“Oh.” Peter blushed and picked up a crumbled box and gave you his best smile. “Would you like to buy a box?”

“I would love to.”

Peter sorted through his boxes and handed you one of his least squished box in exchange for your money. You opened up a box of thin mints eager to eat one, pouring the box out into a ceramic bowl. You watched as nothing but minty dust fell out. “These are crumbs.”

“That they are.” Peter gave you a tight smile. “Please don’t ask for your money back, you’re the first person to buy a box.”

You laughed at his desperation, sitting through the crumbs for pieces. You found one full cookie and bit into it. “ I’m going to help you.”

Peter had a dumbstruck look on his face. “Why?”

You shrugged, brushing the crumbs off your hands. “Because that girl sounds like a jerk.” Peter followed you as you slipped on your shoes. “And I like you.” You gave him a smile and opened the door, waiting for him to go out it. Peter gave you a smile and followed you out.

Taglist: @chiswritingandreadingcorner @enemy-of-wonkru @xxspqcebunsxx @coffeeandteaintheevening @kitwalkerangel @xmaximoffic @livingmybestfictionallife @evanmybeloved @rottenstyx @raincoffeeandfandoms @ietss @cursedandromedablack @mossybank @usuck @tatesimper

#peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff fluff #Peter Maximoff #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff xmen #quicksilver xmen x reader #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x you #evan peters #evan peters characters #quicksilver #evan peters x you #evan peters x reader

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fanfic-scribbles · 4 years ago

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Smile

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Bucky gives you some reasons to smile.

Quick facts: Romance – Bucky Barnes/Reader – Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff, puns, cheesy jokes, so cheesy

Words: 3344

A/N: I’m going to admit it upfront, about 40 percent of the time spent on this fic was spent on writing it. The other 60 percent was spent on finding the jokes. Also, this story is semi-inspired by the fact that my face is not nearly as expressive as it feels (I basically look like the polite cat meme when I really try and I can’t do it for long before my face hurts too much) so this goes out to other people who get accused of resting bitch/asshole face. And get written up for it. Anyway, please enjoy this goofy little Bucky/Reader get together.

‘How do you make a tissue dance?’

‘Put a little boogie in it.’

Bucky snorts and coughs when he accidentally breathes coffee instead of air. ‘That’s disgusting,’ he texts back but Sam just replies with an obnoxious smiling face. Bucky shakes his head and goes back to his coffee. It’s actually not so terrible today.

He doesn’t hang out in a dive, but this coffee shop is a type of quiet he almost never sees in the city. It’s too far from the tourism path for convenience and just outside the neighborhood purview where there are many other local (better) favorites. It’s clean enough and decently sized, but it’s decorated like it was supposed to be trendy ten years ago and the place is barely staffed, to match its perpetually nigh-empty interior. There was a short-lived attempt at hiring another person, but after a ridiculous amount of turnover the owners, or whoever, apparently cut their losses and the only constants that remain are Bucky, the lone customer, you, the person actually working the counter, and your manager.

You’re nice. You always speak kindly to Bucky and, when you think you can sneak it, upsize his cup without comment or charge. Also, one time when his glove broke and slipped off, you hadn’t even commented on the arm; you’d even helped him stop panicking enough to see it hadn’t gone far and helped secure it temporarily with a rubber band.

Your manager, meanwhile, is a dick who glares at Bucky and once made a snide comment about him leaning too close to the register, and only talks to you in demanding barks. Like now– but the five minute “hushed” conversation is winding down and soon it will be safe for Bucky to go get his refill.

“I’m writing you up,” the manager says.

You jerk back in shock. “For not smiling enough?”

“It’s what we got marked down for, it’s what’s going on your record,” he says, turns on his heel, and retreats into the back to do jack shit. Bucky glares at his back as he goes. His harsh expression turns to a milder frown when he looks at you, hunched over and staring at the counter with a dead expression on your face.

He looks at his phone, looks at his empty coffee cup, and makes a quick decision.

“Can I get a refill?” he asks when he’s in front of you, startling you out of your stagnant misery. You look up at Bucky and after a second force an unnatural smile on your face. He winces on your behalf.

“Of course,” you say softly, and turn to refill the cup.

When you hand it back to him Bucky shuffles, hesitates, but finally asks, “Why are colds bad criminals?”

You blink. “Uh…why?”

“Because they’re easy to catch.”

You blink again, and then let out a startled laugh. Bucky smiles slightly at the sound, and smiles more at the more natural, smaller turn of your lips as you say, “That’s…that’s a good one.”

“It’s pretty terrible.”

“All the best ones are,” you say, and the door chimes making Bucky break away. But as he watches you talk to the delivery man like normal he nods to himself. He leaves with his coffee to start the day and fires a quick text to Sam: ‘Where do you get your dumb jokes?’

The next day when the door chimes and you see your one regular customer, you let yourself smile a lot more naturally than you have been. Your face is starting to hurt and your boss is probably napping in the back, so you take the chance to relax.

“Hi,” you say. “The usual?”

“Please,” he says, polite as ever as he hands you exact change and you go to fix his cup. When you bring it back he asks, “What did the fish say when he swam into a wall?”

“What?”

“Dam.”

You giggle despite yourself. Bucky’s smile is small and guarded, but you haven’t had a moment yet where you haven’t been grateful to see it. Maybe this ‘smiling’ business is all it’s cracked up to be. If only it didn’t hurt your cheeks so much.

But as he tips his cup to you and goes to his favorite corner, you find you don’t mind the ache as much.

Every time he comes in now, he brings a new joke.

“What do you call a fake noodle?”

“An im-pasta.”

“What does a clock do when it’s hungry?”

“It goes back four seconds.”

“Why did the bike fall over?”

“It was two tired.”

The delivery is fairly flat but there’s always at least the hint of a smile and, you don’t know, it might be his absolute seriousness that sells it, because every one of them raises your spirits. You don’t know why he’s suddenly telling you jokes. For anyone else you might think they’re flirting, but you don’t get that impression here. He’s handsome, always looks put-together in quality clothes even if they seem picked for comfort over anything else, and even before this he has always been unfailingly polite. If he wants someone, he has to have someone just as lovely. Right?

You can’t help but think about it even after he comes back. And the wonderfully terrible jokes, thankfully, don’t stop.

“Why did the mushroom go to the party?”

You keep pouring the coffee while you ponder an answer. “I don’t know,” you decide and lift your head as you hand Bucky his drink.

The way he smiles is very fetching– not quite a smirk, it’s a little too unsure for that, but it tilts up to the side and gives him a boyish charm that would make anyone weak in the knees. “Because he was a fungi.”

It makes a smile big enough for you to feel, but considering how self-conscious you are now you quickly tell him, “I liked that.”

“I know,” he says. “You smiled.”

“You can tell?” Maybe you aren’t as bad off as you thought. Or maybe he’s just being nice. But he seems honest, and he nods decisively.

“I get not being the most…expressive.” He shrugs. “But anyone can still see it, if they look.”

The implication that he cares enough to look stuns you both to silence. He ducks his head shyly and lifts his coffee cup in thanks before retreating to his corner. When you finally have working vocal cords again you say, “Have a nice day.” It might be the first time you’ve ever really meant it.

“What’s the opposite of coffee?”

Bucky’s eyes widen and narrow in quick succession as he goes from surprise to contemplation. He weighs your question with all the dramatic seriousness you could hope for before he says, “I don’t know. What is the opposite of coffee?”

You grin when you say, “Sneezy.”

His smile is bright and he nods his head. “Not bad, not bad.” He leans on the counter, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. It’s…shockingly warming. You have to remind yourself not to get too close. He showed up out of the blue and he can be gone just as quickly. Just because he’s nice doesn’t mean he has any attachment here. In fact, you hope he doesn’t– you’d question his sanity otherwise. “Why did Mozart hate chickens?”

“I don’t know,” you say, eager to hear the answer.

“Because when he asked them for their favorite composer, they said, “Bach! Bach! Bach!’”

You laugh– that is, of course, when your supervisor pokes his head out of the back and scowls at you. He should be happy that you’re ‘smiling enough’ but you know full well anything you do is never going to be good. You freeze whatever expression is on your face as Bucky’s mood darkens and your heart sinks. “Enjoy your coffee,” you say, infusing meaning into every word. That ekes out a small imitation of a smile as Bucky raises his cup and goes to his seat.

Your supervisor starts to stalk over to you but you are saved by the sudden ringing of a phone, and he blessedly turns on his heel and goes to answer.

You sigh and start cleaning up the counter. Bucky is in his corner, hunched over and quiet as usual. He looks fine, but you feel bad for the interruption, even though you get the impression he understands. Still, this is one nice thing you’ve had in this otherwise miserable job and you’re not going to lose yet one more good person to your superior’s shitty attitude.

You push out a roll of receipt paper, scribble ‘Why did the espresso keep checking his watch?’ on it, and stick it in your apron. You walk over to wipe down an untouched table and, before heading back, make a little detour to drop it next to Bucky’s arm. He grabs the paper as you’re scooting away (plausible deniability in case your boss comes out) but it isn’t until you’re back behind the counter that you realize what that just looked like. Does he think you just dropped your number? He hasn’t opened it yet. Is he trying to figure out a way to let you down? You suddenly regret playing into this so much; he was just trying to be nice, he probably didn’t expect you to latch onto it so–

He opens the paper, reads it, and shoots you a little smirk. You breathe a sigh of relief and mindlessly wipe things down and rearrange well-organized creamers and straws until Bucky comes up for his customary pre-leaving refill. You’re a little disheartened it’s that time already, but it means you’re that much closer to the end of your shift, at least.

“Why?” Bucky asks quietly. It takes you a second before you remember the receipt paper and you surreptitiously check the back to see the door is closed.

“Because he was pressed for time,” you say quietly as you hand back his cup.

He chuckles. “I like it,” he says and takes a sip. “Thanks,” he adds as expected, but then he winks and you…you just stare at him as he leaves.

Should you have dropped your number?

A few days later, Bucky is caught off his guard and pays for it.

“What’s this?”

Bucky doesn’t get to his coffee cup fast enough and Sam snatches it and reads. “Sam,” Bucky grumbles but there it is, Sam’s eyes go wide and he turns that stare on Bucky. “Don’t look at me like that,” Bucky snaps and snatches his drink back.

“You’ve been using my jokes to hit on a dorky barista?” Sam asks and follows him across the room.

“I’ve been using jokes from the site you steal yours from to share with the nice woman who makes my coffee,” Bucky says and sits in a chair. He never stays for Sam’s group VA sessions and he should have left sooner, damn it. “I wouldn’t use yours. They’re gross.”

“Potentially inappropriate for a lady,” Sam says. Bucky opens his mouth to argue but, no, that’s exactly it, even though Sam’s tone implies something completely different from what Bucky would have said. “What’s her name?”

“Bucky?”

Steve has never been more of an actual hero to Bucky than he is right now. Right on time to walk back home with Bucky, Steve wanders in, sees the two of them, and stops. “Oh, should I…”

“Let’s g–” Bucky is immediately stopped by Sam’s hand on his shoulder.

“Bucky’s got his eyes on someone,” Sam says, immediately centering himself as Bucky’s most hated arch-nemesis.

…Okay, maybe not, but if Bucky didn’t have real problems he would be.

“I do not,” Bucky grumbles, because he knows it’s pointless and Steve is immediately sitting in front of them and leaning in like he’s the last girl at the sleepover.

“Really Buck? That’s great!” Steve says. “Have you…are you going to make a move?”

“No,” Bucky says and quickly runs down the situation, hoping that it will clear things up but knowing his friends too well. Indeed, Sam and Steve share smirks before looking at him again.

“You’re a real hero,” Sam says, only partly joking.

“I hate you,” Bucky says, ducking his head down. He doesn’t really blush anymore, if he ever did, but the motion is instinctive.

“You don’t.”

“I wish I did.”

Steve grins, as does Sam, and Bucky wants to duck into a hole. Goddamn mother hens, they’re going to want to–

“Should we come by?” Sam asks and leans back in his chair. “Be real wingmen?”

“No,” Bucky says, harsher than he means to. Sam and Steve don’t look bothered– they’ve weathered worse emotional snaps than that– but they wait for him to explain and Bucky doesn’t know if he can. Because what if this is leading to something? Is he ready for that? He thinks he might like you, but would he be okay putting in the effort of getting to know you? What if he can’t handle it? What if Steve and Sam walk in and they’re all you see? Both of them are plenty distracting, and charming, while Bucky can hardly put one foot in front of the other, some days. And what if this isn’t leading to anything, you’re just nice, and it’s nice, but Sam and Steve find out and look at him with all the pity they can muster?

“I just…want to see it through. On my own. Whatever this is.” ‘Or could be’ he leaves unspoken, because hoping for anything still feels like too much.

“Okay,” Sam says first, because of course he does, but Steve nods along quickly. It’s enough to make Bucky exhale deeply and relax muscles he didn’t know he had tensed. He rolls his eyes and stands up to cover for it.

“You’ll keep us updated though, right?” Sam asks, an easy grin on his face as he lounges in the chair.

“Like I’ll be able to avoid it,” Bucky mutters, finishes his drink, and lets Sam know they’re okay by throwing the empty cup at his head.

The fact that you’re running out of coffee-related jokes is stressing you out. You wanted to keep on theme but too many more days of this and you’ll be scouring the internet for whatever jokes Bucky hasn’t used yet. There are some coffee-related puns, but…the ones you like carry a romantic hint to them, and you were hoping to save those in case Bucky showed any interest. So far you haven’t picked up on anything, but you’re also very oblivious, and your roommate thinks you’re an idiot and he’s obviously into you.

But he might not be.

You do what you’ve been doing since your boss snarked at you about flirting on the clock and get Bucky’s cup ready with maybe your favorite joke.

‘How did the hipster burn his tongue?

He drank his coffee before it was cool.’

And smile proudly at it. Your small handwriting is getting better– Bucky barely has to squint at it this time, and he gives you a conspirator’s smile when he slides his twenty-dollar bill across the counter at you, with the neatest print writing along the margins.

‘What do you call an alligator detective?

An investi-gator.’

It’s cute and you snicker to yourself as you gather his change and place it gently in his gloved hand. He doesn’t retreat to his corner right away, though, and shuffles in place. “I was…I just wanted to say…” But then his eyes glance to your side and his face freezes in an unfortunately familiar way. “Thank you for the coffee,” he says woodenly and raises his cup just so.

“Of course. Have a nice day,” you say as robotically as possible and watch him go. Your supervisor clears his throat pointedly and you pretend like the place isn’t as clean as it was since the last time you went around. But now you’re thinking. About how awkward Bucky looked, and how he mentioned wanting to say something…maybe…maybe he is open. To you. Potentially.

Tomorrow, you decide with a thrill of nauseating adrenaline. Tomorrow you’re going to bring it up.

The next day you arrive at the shop at your usual time in the pre-dawn cold only to find an extra padlock on the door and a note in the window.

You stare, dumbfounded, and read the note. You read it again. And again.

‘Out of Business.’

But nobody called you.

You immediately grab your phone and dial your supervisor’s number. When he doesn’t pick up you call it again because this cannot be real. The job was shit but it was a job, and you knew what to expect, and you’ll never see Bucky again, will you?

It takes almost half an hour for the asshole to pick up– or maybe more, as the sun is starting to show up– and upon answering, he snaps, “What?!”

“What happened?” you ask, just as unkindly.

Your boss grumbles unintelligibly but you wait. “Did you see the sign?”

“I was working yesterday; no one mentioned anything about this.”

“Corporate called last night.” He yawns loudly. “I tried to call you.”

That’s a lie if you’ve ever heard one, but your tongue gets tripped up in anger and he says, “Sorry but there’s no room at the other branches for you, your last check is in the mail,” and hangs up.

You stand there for a while, trying to blink away tears at the sudden upheaval of your life. You should have found a replacement job while you had a chance. You should have asked your co-workers where they were going. You should have given Bucky your number.

You stand there for a little while, debating spending money you shouldn’t on a nice breakfast to wallow in, when the sound of footsteps coming up behind you makes you turn around.

“Oh, Bucky,” you say and rub your face. You think you’ve managed to hold it in, but it’s chilly and any exposed skin feels frozen.

“What’s going on?” he asks and peers around you at the note.

“Um…” You gesture uselessly. “Apparently this location is no longer in business. Just found out.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. “That asshole didn’t even call you?!”

The amount of anger on your behalf startles you. Startles both of you, actually, but just as he’s about to say something you laugh and say, “At least that asshole isn’t my problem anymore.” You sigh. You have savings, and the other job, and there’s always some other crappy job waiting for someone like you. But there’s something here that won’t be, and you pull out your phone and start typing. “Um…Bucky…there’s something I wanted to say to you. But it’s hard to say.”

“Okay?” he asks. You squeeze your eyes tight, brace yourself for impending rejection, and hold out your phone.

‘I like you a latte,’ followed by your phone number, hopefully gets the point across. After a few seconds your phone buzzes and you jump and bring it back, hoping no one texted you anything terrible while Bucky was staring at your phone.

It’s a new number, and the text reads, ‘It’s hard to espresso my feelings for you.’

You look up at him and he’s smiling, mouth parted slightly, and you start smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. But it’s okay. “I only had two more coffee jokes left before that line,” you confess and save his name to his number.

“Maybe you can tell them to me over breakfast? My treat,” he says and extends his arm.

You don’t even have to think about it. “Your treat this time,” you say, and link your arm with his. “In return, I’m going to show you where to get some good coffee.”

“Oh I don’t know,” he smirks at you. “The last place had its perks.”

Lacking a good comeback, you push your face into his shoulder to muffle your laughter. He leans into you, and doesn’t pull away even when you’ve gotten under control.

It’s the beginning of a brew-tiful relationship.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #avengers reader insert #captain america reader insert #fluff #stupid jokes (affectionate)#puns

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whatissleepeven · 5 years ago

Note

Hey heyyy!~ I hope you're having a good day, Legend! May I request the brothers reacting to MC making a whole meal at like 3am because they slept through dinner and got real hungry,,, Please remember to take good care of yourself!

This ask made me go the humor route with the hcs I'm sorry -

And thank you, I will!! I hope you're doing the same, Dean!

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

Obey Me demon brothers reacting to MC making a whole-ass meal at 3am

Lucifer

Lucifer.exe has stopped working

First you skip dinner, and now you're eating at unholy hours of the morning??

On a school day???

11/10 disappointed and a little angry

"And just what do you think you're making at..." *checks his watch because he will not be caught looking anything but prim and proper* "...three in the morning?"

You stop stirring the pot, looking at him as if you were dead inside. Which, at three a.m., you were. "Mac n' cheese. There's chicken in the oven." You state bluntly. "You want any?"

Lucifer's a bit taken aback at your lack of formality with him, but he finds it...strangely endearing. With a sigh that pierced his very soul, he leaned against the counter next to you.

There's a twitch of his lips, as if he's trying hard to not smile. "I'll have to decline this time."

You drained the pot of noodles into the strainer, giving it a good few shakes as you eyed the oven. "So, next time then?"

He frowned, crossing his arms as he glared. "There won't be a next time, now will there?"

You gulped. You forgot exactly who you were talking to due to your stomach currently dying of agony, but his tone quickly reminded you. "Y-Yeah, there won't be! Promise!"

You were going to break that promise and he knew it. Opting to ignore it for now, he glanced at the oven as the aroma of chicken began to fill the kitchen. "Where did you even find a chicken, anyways?"

"I went to Hell's Kitchen with Beel to find out if they had human food. Asked them where they got it from, and how." You shrugged. "Process of deduction."

"I see..." Is all that he said, watching you flit around the kitchen to make yourself a plate. You cut the chicken, happily adding it to your pile of mac n' cheese.

"Beel, it's ready!" You call out, startling him a bit. He pinches his brow as the sound of footsteps rapidly approached the kitchen, a starry-eyed Beel making his own plate.

He really should've expected this.

"Please don't make this a habit, you two."

He'll let it slide for now, and punish you later on in the day. How could he tell you off when you looked so happy eating a human meal with one of his brothers?

Mammon

All he wanted was to grab a Devil Dew from the fridge. Seriously, that's it.

It was dark, so he flicked on the light switch and shrieked yelled once he saw you casually eating big ziti at the counter.

He has questions, but more importantly...

"What the devil are ya doing, eatin' in the dark?!"

You narrowed your eyes at him, jabbing your fork in his direction.

"Either turn off the light or grab some ziti. I made extra."

Well, it...did look good. It must've been human food from the package you had shipped to the House earlier.

“...Alright, human, but just this once!”

It does not become “just this once”

He took a seat next to you, piling some ziti onto his plate and taking a bite. To be honest, he had peeked into your room to see if you were still asleep and panicked once he saw no one inside, so he spent a solid five minutes running through the entire House to catch even a glimpse of you.

The frantic energy burnt made him thirsty, so he decided to take a break and come to the kitchen and holy shit this is actually really good -

“...Oi. What’s this made out of?”

- And that’s how he discovered his crippling addiction to cheese.

Seriously he’ll ask you if you’re making ziti whenever it’s your turn to cook

“Sorry if I startled you too bad.” You laughed quietly, watching as he scooped more onto his plate with an awed look in his eyes. “You like the ziti?”

A fork was shoved in your face, close to touching your nose. “The Great Mammon doesn’t get startled, ya hear? A-And yeah...this isn’t half-bad.”

Not gonna lie, you were a bit surprised when he actually sat down to eat ziti with you, but in the words of Beel: “Food always tastes better when you’re eating with friends.”

Even though he has the fattest crush on you but we don’t talk about that here

In the end, you smiled softly at him. “Then let’s do this again sometime.”

“Oh HELL YEAH!!” He cheered, and you knew that you couldn’t ever say no to him.

Especially not with what he added afterwards in a quieter voice.

“Just...make sure to eat dinner with all of us too, got it?”

Leviathan

“Is this like that one episode of Demfeed: Unsolved where they tried to put aggro on the spirits by eating their favorite dish at 3 in the morning?!”

You...hated that you knew what he was talking about. The two of you would watch that show whenever you were finished with an anime binge, and you were usually laughing at your own commentary (and theirs) than paying actual attention to the process of catching a ghost. Instead, you just slowly brought the spoon to your lips and slurped up some more cereal.

“...If I tell you yes, then will you turn off the light?”

You swear that you have never seen this shut-in otaku move that fast in your life. In one swift motion he flicked the light switch off, grabbing a turquoise bowl and pouring his own cereal.

He took a seat next to you, stars in his eyes as he began to eat.

“Let’s summon them together!”

And who were you to say no? You were glad that he didn’t bring up the fact that you basically skipped dinner, content to have this quiet time with you in the present.

You lightly shoved his shoulder with a snort. “Let’s hope that we don’t end up accidentally summoning Lucifer instead.”

“Who will be summoning me, exactly?”

You and Levi freeze. Slowly, you both turn to see the eldest brother standing in one of the doorways with his arms crossed and a murderous look on his face.

The tight smile he gave could bury you both six feet under. “It’s good to see you up and about after skipping dinner. Are you making up for lost time?”

Levi nudged you. You side-eyed him.

Without warning you threw your spoon to the ground and yelled.

“SCATTER!!”

And just like Ratatouille, you both bolted out of the kitchen with an angry Lucifer on your heels. You and Levi didn’t get caught, but the next morning you two had to sit and listen to one of Lucifer’s lectures at the dining table.

- You ended up missing breakfast.

(All it takes is the whisper of that one blessed word, and the two of you would devolve into a fit of laughter. Levi still joins you for your “Cursed Meal Runs”, as he dubbed it.)

Satan

He had seen the light on in the kitchen and wondered just who, exactly, would be up at this time??

Especially on a school night day???

(Actually he assumed it was Beel, but it didn’t hurt to go and check it out just in case it was an intruder, now did it?)

“What is- Oh. I see.”

(As you can tell, he immediately gets what’s going on the minute he spots you eating pizza like it’s the end of the world.)

There’s an amused smile on his face as he sits down across from you. “You’ve finally decided to eat something?”

You swallow the food in your mouth, glancing between him and the takeout box you had delivered from Hell’s Kitchen. “I can’t help it that Belphie wanted a sleepover in the middle of the afternoon! ...Okay, I can help it a little, but still; whenever we sleep, I’m dead to the world for the rest of the day.”

He hums in agreement, knowing the power of his brother’s endless soft blankets and squishy but just right pillows. “Instead of making something yourself, you chose to order pizza?”

You put another slice onto your plate, and was- yep, half the box is already gone. You must’ve been really hungry, he thought. “I just had a craving for it and it hits different at night- hey, stop laughing!”

He couldn’t help it. You were just full of surprises, weren’t you? But that’s what made you endearing to him.

He covered his mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise, eyes softening into something more intimate once they fell on your face again. “Forgive me, you just caught me by surprise. Do you mind if I take a slice? Thank you. Since we’re here, I wanted to talk to you about the show you recommended to me... Fringe, was it? I watched the first episode, and let me say...”

Your late-night (early morning) rendezvous ended up feeling like a date. Then again, anything you do with Satan ends up feeling like a date.

(He also lightly scolded you for missing out on dinner with them because it wasn’t a healthy habit to get into, but he hinted at wanting to do this again sometime with you. Overall, he wasn’t actually mad at you.)

...

(Though, the pizza was delicious. Was it because you were with him? You two would have to order it again sometime soon to “test his theory”.)

Asmodeus

Let me be honest, this man is big on his beauty sleep.

Also, he sleeps like the dead.

However, there was one night where he just...could not sleep.

So he went to go rinse some water into his face in hopes of getting out of this stupor when he heard a rustle from the kitchen.

“...-za! Pasta! Put it in a booooooox!!”

...Was that supposed to be singing??

He peeked his head into the kitchen to see you stirring a pot, quietly singing some horrendous song that you no doubt had shown Levi.

“What in the world are you cooking to make you sing like that?”

Asmo’s voice made you jump a little. With a smile you beckoned him over, only after making him promise to be quiet so that you both didn’t incur Lucifer’s wrath.

“I’m making pasta from Mammon’s frozen Hellsauce Noodles. Uh...don’t tell him.”

Look me in the eyes and tell me this man isn’t a prankster. He literally tried to get you to snap a picture of Lucifer sleeping.

He gave you a wide smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, don’t worry; I won’t tell a soul...as long as I can have some, of course!”

- Well. This is rare. Asmo almost never has food at a cursed hour like this, much less spicy food. You nod your head over at an empty seat, telling him to just take your plate.

Once it’s done, you both take a minute to chat as it cools down.

“-nd then he threatened to switch my nail polish out for paint. Actual paint!”

...Isn’t nail polish just paint for your nails? But you kept that thought to yourself, letting the disgruntled demon gripe about a certain shady sorcerer.

Having a late-night meal with Asmo was fun and pretty chill, considering that he didn’t attempt to make one R-Rated joke while you ate. It must’ve been because he was tired, but you were leaning more towards the fact that this must be what Asmo was like when he let his guard down.

It was...nice.

“...Thanks for this, Asmo.”

Asmo smiled like he knew what you meant, but then again...maybe he did.

“Of course, love! Oh, but don’t skip out on dinner again you hear? It’s bad for your health to miss a meal.”

Beelzebub

Hungry boi already knows that you’re making a meal before even you know you’re making a meal

You were getting the pots and pans out to make a feast for yourself when you turned around and nearly screamed. Beel was peeking around the corner, staring at you with intent as his stomach rumbled.

“...What are you making?”

Once you calm yourself, you smile and beckon him over. “I planned on making a big breakfast. I may have missed dinner, but this is one meal I wouldn’t miss for the world!”

You didn’t tell him it was because it reminded you of home, with your loved ones (be it friends or family or, even, just you and your pets). You set to work whipping up some French Toast and bacon, having on numerous occasions to lightly swat Beel’s hands away from the food.

He does end up helping you, though. He tries his best, but he sneaks a sausage from the plate when you aren’t looking.

He thinks he’s being sneaky.

(You know. You still let him do it.)

“Beel, can you pull the biscuits out of the oven?”

“Sure.”

It’s a comfortable silence as you two put together a breakfast feast fit for kings. You ended up making more than you initially were due to Beel’s appetite, but seeing the awestruck look (which was accompanied by a wide smile) on his face as he took a bite of French Toast was worth the extra work.

“I take it you like it?”

He gives you a puppy-eyed look. “...Can we have this later today?”

And, really, could you ever say no to Beel when he asks so sweetly?

You laugh as you take a bite out of your biscuit, eyeing the oven because the last thing you had put in were the cinnamon rolls. “Of course. We should still have enough to do this one more time.”

He beams, going to town on the rest of the food. The whole scene is so domestic that you almost miss his next words.

“Just...don’t skip dinner again. It’s just as important as breakfast, and I like seeing you eat with us.”

- And just like that, you promise him to not skip dinner again if you can help it. The two of you do continue to make small meals at unholy hours of the morning, though, much to the ire of Lucifer.

(Also, whenever Beel is making his midnight runs to the fridge, he now drags you along to see if you’d make something. Whenever you do, he’s overjoyed and giving you all the hugs for your hard work.)

Belphegor

...Listen

Listen -

Homeboi sleeps most of the day away. He’s probably the reason you missed dinner in the first place.

“...I should’ve expected this, really.”

You whirl on him, your dominant hand not once stopping in its stirring. Even though it was early in the morning (not even Levi was up), you had a bright look in your eyes.

Your stomach rumbled loud enough for both of you to hear. Belphie raised an eyebrow, the edges of his lips curling into an amused smile.

You coughed awkwardly. “Listen, do you want chicken noodle soup or not?”

He doesn’t eat, but he does watch you bustle around the kitchen with a soft look in his eyes. Something about the whole scene was comforting, and for once he didn’t feel like falling asleep.

“Soup soup soup soup soup soup soup...!” You chanted quietly, bouncing from foot to foot as if it’d prepare the food faster. He chuckled at your enthusiasm, resting his head on his beloved cow-printed pillow as he stared.

“It’s done!!” You whisper-shout, all but slamming the bowl down as you took a seat next to him.

Belphie glanced over at you in amusement. “Is this going to become a common thing with you?” He questioned, keeping a straight face even as you scowled at him.

“You know the exact reason why I’m here in the first place. Just so you know I’m starving, Sleeping Beauty, so please excuse me as I down this piping hot soup like it’s the end of the world.”

That actually forced a snort out of him, shifting to instead lean his head on your shoulder. “C’mon, you don’t mean that. Why don’t you come sleep with me? It’s too early to be eating, anyways.”

You poke his side with your free hand. “Watch it, mister. Again, why do you think I’m here in the first place?”

He said nothing after that, closing his eyes with a small smile. Even though it was early, he wasn’t particularly annoyed; if anything, he felt...at peace.

He didn’t condone you for missing dinner, especially if it meant that he’d get more tranquil moments like this.

For now, though...let this peace last just a bit longer.

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thestarsoutofyourwindow · 5 years ago

Text

11th Doctor x Reader - “If you don’t hold me now I think might just fall apart.”

Authors note: I tried my best to keep this in character- so if this is lacking in a story, that’s because I was a little hesitant to write a climax just in case I got it a little off. The gif isn’t mine, obviously. Crickets, this took a long time, so you BeTTeR aPPreCiaTe It. Just kidding, but I hope you enjoy it, even a little bit!

Now, it’s five am so I better go write some fifth Doctor now :)))

Feel free to tell me if i could improve anything or what you liked or whatever!

Word count: 1,719

Includes: Slight (?) angst, mentioning of being left by the Doctor (just prep yourself)

Requested by: @yourneighbourhoodclown, it won't let me tag them for some reason, so we will have to pretend.

“Where's your adventurous spirit!?" The Doctor giggles, pulling a lever on the TARDIS console, the entire ship convulsing as she dematerializes. His attention wavered between looking at you and the TARDIS.

"Urgh, god knows with all the-" Another lurch cut you off. "Focus on driving before you get us killed."

"Make me," He shouted over to you, running his fingers through his hair, with a smile that could only be described as a shit-eating grin.

Your stomach and eyes rolled in synchronization as the TARDIS jerked about, "I won't get half the chance. You'd think you'd get used to being thrown around in this- BOX- Urg. It doesn't help you're not a very good driver."

"Oi! I am too!" The Doctors scowled for a few moments, but you were to distracted with how your stomach swirled. Yet again the moment was interrupted by you being thrown into the railing.

"Of course you are, dear." You taunted him.

"Oh, this is gonna be a rough one-!" The Doctor cackled, smiling up at TARDIS console.

"Just like you to show your 'adventurous spirit'." You mocked, rolling your eyes and jabbing your elbow into his side. He glanced at you and furrowed his eyebrows; just as the rain started to pour down on you two. You had found yourselves in a seemingly endless forest, engulfed in an unsettling atmosphere. You just so happened to materialize in a clearing with a convenient dirt pathway littered with branches and bushes, which appeared to lead to some curiosity-sparking warm lights, bare pinpricks in the distance.

You knew the Doctor would want to investigate. You weren't particularly bothered, as long as you had the Doctor by your side.

"Oi you," The Doctor grinned at that, glancing at you then back out to the vast forest, then turned to look at you. "Umbrella?" You asked. He smirked and he pulled one of those large umbrellas, that people have to carry around like a staff or walking stick, yes one of those, out of his pocket. He played with the umbrella-like a sword, thrusting the umbrella and mocking a few blocks. You put your hand on his shoulder and he paused, looking over at you.

"Right, yes-" The Doctor opened the umbrella, which was a lot bigger than most umbrellas, swinging it up and resting it on his shoulder. He held his arm out for you, inviting you under the umbrella with a wink. You stepped under the umbrella, and he draped his arm over your shoulders as the both of you started the brisk walk towards the alluring lights.

Upon reaching the Cabin, which was more like a small mansion -still massive for the one person who lived there yet almost exclusively in the library, you met an old woman with a quaint affinity with voodoo and witchcraft (not the horrible sort though, she seemed quite friendly, if a little odd).

"You know, it doesn't help that every wall here is painted with get out." The Doctor stated, gesturing to the wall with a slight nod.

"I'm sorry?" The old, witch-like woman asks. The Doctor gestured to the wall, his face squished up, his eyes searching yours for confirmation.

"You don't see that?" He tensed, pulling out the sonic from his jacket and scanning the wall, and then you and the woman. He checked it and you could almost pin the moment his jaw went slack.

"Y-you have been marked-" The old witch sputtered. Your blood ran cold when you heard that. The Doctor, who was standing just next to you, brushed his fingers against yours, seemingly in search of contact- comfort. You curl your fingers around his, not taking your eyes off the woman.

"What do you mean marked?" You ask, after a few too many moments of silence. The woman seemed to snap out of a trance and

turns around, rushing back to her library nook.

"He- he is doomed. The Beast himself has left his mark."

"You keep saying that, but what does that mean, ma'am?" You only asked out of concern. You gave the Doctors hand a squish of comfort. It wasn't uncommon for the Doctor to hold hands with you, so you didn't consider that to be particularly weird

"Your husband here-" The lady starts, shakily flipping through the book she had picked up.

"Oh no, we're not even-" You shake your head.

"He spoke of, writing- on the walls. That's always the first step. He will be contaminated by the beast- you and me, we're in danger."

"Of course it had to be me..." the Doctor mutters, staring into nowhere. You could nearly see his fear, the smallest hint of anticipation in his eyes. This will be... something.

"What's going to happen to me?" He asked.

"It will take your mind, turn it against you, and twist you to madness. You will then kill us." The woman shook her head, looking out of the window with a solemn pout. "It has happened before and it will happen again. If you will excuse me, I need to protect the rest of this planet." She scurried off, a little satchel being yanked off a counter, knocking a few candles and unburnt sage sticks and other oddities, some less recognizable.

"Wait, no don't-" The Doctor called after her, but she had already left. "Urgh."

As soon as she had left, you briskly walked over to where she was stood, investigating the book she was flipping through so religiously, all the while handing in hand with the Doctor. You moved your hand from his so you could flip the pages of the book, but his hand only grabbed at your sleeve.

"Basically, uh..." You mutter, whilst consulting the page of the apparently gospel book, "Give me a heads up if start to feel any murderous tendencies." You chuckled flatly.

Let's say, the two of you weren't particularly keen on remembering what happened. Or talking about it. But you could tell something was weighing down on him. You could also bet on your life what it might be.

The two of you were standing in the medbay, just a few hours after you had found your ways back to the TARDIS. Your "escape" wasn't something you were proud of. Both of you had tried, and succeeded in a way, to forget about it as best you could. The unforgettable part was, of course, the fact that, after being hooked up to a machine that literally connected you to satan themself. The Doctor said that "that was a very silly idea and to never do that again, also you might have slowed your ageing by like, 10000% but that's here or there you were literally connected to satan are you good". Well maybe not that exactly but that's the general point.

That was almost too convenient, you thought to yourself. Almost like you were in a romantic fanfiction or something stupid like that. There's nobody better to look after an old time lord like a human that might never age or die if you were careful enough.

The two of you are still in the medbay, and you were just putting a plaster/band-aid on the side of The Doctors' chin when he broke the silence with a classic:

"I- I could've killed you." The doctor states, staring into nothing. "Me! The Doctor... You're my best friend and I could've-"

"Hey. Shhh." You whisper, caressing his cheek with your hand, placing your other hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. I'm alright, and most importantly, you're okay too."

The Doctor's eyes tear up. You tilt his head up and look him in the eye. Oh god, how those big sad eyes make your heart wrench. Despite that, you gave your best reassuring smile. "I'm here. I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere."

A raspy sob forces its way out of his throat and his entire body leans into yours. "Hold me." He whimpered into your shoulder. "if you don't hold me now," the doctor sniffles and takes a deep breath, "I think I might just fall apart."

You do just that.

You hold him close, and you don't let go. You have to lean forward a little because the Doctor is sat on a bed, but you don't mind that, you're more focused on rubbing circles on his back and running your fingers through his hair. He tugs you towards him- and you're stood very awkwardly, but you still hug him back; you feel the hot tears practically burning into your shirt.

"It's alright, isn't it?" You ask. The Doctor nods his head frantically in response. "Exactly. It's a-okay. Bad times happen and it's hard to forgive yourself, but always try to remember that I'm here, Doctor. If you can't forgive yourself, I'll forgive you. As much as you might hate it, you're stuck with me now, Doctor." You finish playfully, ruffling his hair again, and going back to curling it around your fingers.

He mumbles something to you through tears, but you don’t quite believe what you heard.

“I love you.” The Doctor sniffles again. “I’m so sorry, but I love you. I know you won’t- you couldn’t ever love me back, not in this way but- I can’t lose you.” He sobs again, his grip tightening on you.

“I love you too.”

Well. For the rest of your years, no matter how many that is, the two of you, no matter what happens, no matter how many people leave, there would always be a constant for the two of you in each other's arms.

In any other circumstance, you’d be thrilled. But right now, you’re terrified. You didn’t want to lose him either, but you knew it wouldn’t be above him to leave you being on earth, in order to ‘protect’ you. Which you and I know, it bloody well wouldn’t. But what you heard next settled your nerves, yet upset you.

“Please... please don’t leave me. Please, please, please, please, please...” The Doctor keeps repeating that, over and over like a broken record.

“I won’t I promise, on anything and everything. Like I said, you’re stuck with me and I love you so, and now I know you love me too I’m not exactly about to bugger off now am I?”

He really thought you’d leave him.

You wouldn't concider it. Not even for a second.

#11th doctor #eleventh doctor #x reader #11th doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #angst #fluff #im back #doctor who #newwho

267 notes · View notes

palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Yōkai

Hawks Week 2020 - Prompt: Horror Tales

Warnings: Ghosts, spirits, blood, gore, adult language, death, mentions of violent crime

Word Count: 9403

The people here are strange. They’re a superstitious bunch for sure. Everything has an underlying reason. Don’t forget to toss salt over your shoulder when you walk into that crime scene, Hawks. It’s bad luck if you don’t.

Despite the strange mannerisms that surround him, they are right about one thing: there’s more to these killings than meets the eye.

Notes: I went with a whodunit theme for this fic with some healthy ghosts and haunts thrown in. As this is pre-All Might’s retirement, Hawks is the #3 Hero.

Yōkai

Yōkai are a class of supernatural monsters and spirits in Japanese folklore. The word 'yōkai' is made up of the kanji for "bewitching; attractive; calamity" and "spectre; apparition; mystery; suspicious."

The small island of Miyako is renowned for its turquoise waters, pristine coral sanctuaries, amusement parks, and sprawling mansions. All in all, it’s a trust fund tourist trap. Still, like most pristine and shiny things, there’s a seedier underbelly that’s scrapes against the rough, sandy bottom. Come at low tide and you’ll catch a whiff of decay and rot.

Miyako Island is another example of that duality that exists within everything. No matter how pretty the water, there are always dark creatures that lurk in the shallow shoals and coves.

Hawks isn’t looking forward to his new assignment on the island. He’s been called in by the HPSC and Miyako’s police force. There’s been a string of unsolved murders and, with the onset of August, tourist season is in full swing. Homicide is bad publicity during the best of times. But, combine the discovery of freshly charred corpses popping up in various buildings, piers, and alleyways, with mass hysteria and you’re going to have a big problem on your hands.

For eight open murder cases, there’s not much for Hawks to go on, and the data he does have is spotty.

Hawks poured over the notes as soon as he got off the phone with the HSPC, the luster of the new assignment fresh in his mind. He swiped through the briefings and crime scene photos that were attached in the long email from Miyako’s chief of police.

It looks like the trouble started in the poorer areas of town. No matter how bright the city lights shine, there’s always the common shadow of a downtrodden, overworked, and underpaid populous straining under the weight of “keeping up appearances.”

Who else would do the nitty gritty jobs that ensured that the tourist season stayed afloat, and, most important of all, profitable?

Sadly, it’s the blue collar areas that first experienced the horrors. The notes on these cases are borderline elitist, skirting close to xenophobic. The usual: ‘it was just something that happened when you crammed people in that close’. ‘What else did you expect’? ‘Most of the victims aren’t even from the island’. ‘They’re strangers, they’re not locals.’ ‘They’re not one of us’.

The word immigrant pops up in the documentation frequently and it feels like a slur each time it appears. There’s a slinking, cloying animosity curling behind the looping words.

It pisses Hawks off.

The only reason he’s been called is because the crimes have jumped over the poverty line. Now, two prominent members of Miyako society have been murdered. So, what’s the connection you ask?

It’s the state of the bodies.

All of the victims, rich or poor, have been mutilated. Something sharp was drawn across their skin, cutting and splicing, marring them, marking them. Then, as if to add insult to injury, they’d been set aflame. It must have been a scorching blaze. Something that leaves them so crisped and blackened that they’re more husk than human. In each case, it’s taken dental records to identify the deceased.

The Miyako chief of police is doing a review of the known peculiars with Hawks.

“They mirror the, uh, earlier crime scenes. As you can see, this one, she is, er, was a woman in her late 30’s-”

“She was 37,” Hawks supplies, his golden eyes running over the chart that the chief of police is showing him. He’s trying his best to hide his agitation, but his feathers still bristle, the red plumage flaring, refusing to lay against his back.

“Uh, yeah, a bad age they say.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just, it’s supposed to be bad luck. You know?”

“I don’t. Can we get back to the matter at hand, please?”

Hawks has to grit his teeth to keep his tone even. He’s really not liking the way these crime scenes are processed and he’s made his opinion known to the police chief and investigative team. Why now, he’d pressed, hours after flying in, sweat still clinging to his brow. Why didn’t the bodies matter when it was relegated to the lower socio-economic citizens?

He’s also critical and skeptical of the motives of this police chief. There’s something about the whole thing that feels...off.

But, now’s not the time to project that suspicion. He’s only just arrived, besides, he needs more information, more data. Despite his agitation, he gets why the HPSC sent him on this assignment. He’s known for doing things quickly. Plus, he’s usually calm, collected, and he’s got the clout to get things moving again.

He’s also observant. The HPSC both loves and hates this particular skill of his, but it’s to their benefit in this instance. His sharp eyes might spot something that’s been missed, they’d said on the phone with him as they handed off his assignment. If he played his cards right, they said, he could pull these murders from unsolved to solved. Oh, and the commission is thinking these murders might involve some agents from the League of Villains.

It’s not a confirmed connection.

There’s nothing solid about it, besides the body mutilation and burned corpses. But both are known habits of two members of the League. They’re shadowy leads, more steeped in hearsay than fact. All the same, one is rumored to have a fascination with blood, and the other, has a proclivity for using a bright, blue flame. It’s a hot heat, perfect for cremation and these bodies have all been practically, well, cremated.

“Have you met the other heroes that will be assigned to work with you?”

Hawks snaps out of his head and nods at the tall, balding police chief. “Amano and Matsuura? Yeah, we’re supposed to take a look at the first locations as soon as this...meeting...is concluded.” Hawks hopes the police chief can hear the air quotes he just put the word meeting in.

“Good, good. I saw your additions on the later cases. I really feel that we should look a little harder into those. One was a member of the city council. He was beloved by the city and-”

“If I’m looking for a pattern, there’s a higher probability that the killer was sloppier in the earlier cases. New habits and all. I’ll get to the councilman when I get to the councilman. Again, this string of murders started in the lowlands. While I realize that doesn’t get you the most publicity, and I hear a re-election is coming up for your position as chief of police this fall, I’m not going to pick at certain elements of this and leave others by the wayside.

You gotta’ problem with that, take it up the HPSC. But, listen, they’re a lot meaner than me and they’re not going to like that you’re obstructing my investigation. You asked the commission to send someone down, and, lucky you, you’ve gotten yourself stuck with me.”

Hawks flashes the police chief a bright grin, his teeth gleaming as his eyes crinkle to crescents. The man stammers for a moment, his face flushing under Hawks’ false joviality, then he tosses a bulky manilla folder on the desk.

“Why you...I heard you were an arrogant son of a...no, no.” The chief sputters, his teeth clenched, anger bared behind the grinding of his jaw. “You’re right, we’re so very grateful to the number three hero taking time out of his busy modeling schedule to lend us a hand with these murders.”

“Ooh, you saw that spread in the sports magazine? Nice use of color right? Loved that new set of watches I’m sponsoring.”

Fucking prick. Hawks is used to this kind of irate reaction, hell, it’s pretty expected now. He’d heard it so many times he has it memorized. Yeah, yeah, he’s twenty one, a kid who’s too big for his boots. He has no idea, no real world experience. Did you hear how he talked to me? The audacity.

Let this guy try to report his snarky attitude, it’s not going to get his low level wannabe bureaucratic ass anywhere.

“I’ll get my agency to send you a signed copy. I had no idea you were such a fan! Lemme grab these files, got some work to do. Catch you around, sir!” Hawks pantomimes a salute, a serious expression making his eyes narrow. Fuck this dude. He’s got bigger fish to fry.

Closing the door on the police chief’s mottled expression, he meanders down the stairs of the police precinct, his wings still arching and rustling his temper. You’d think this case didn’t matter to these buffoons. The sheer implication of Hawks’ presence should clue them in. The HPSC doesn’t do anything lightly. Nah, these killings could be related to the League. Plus, his background checks on the victims had revealed some startling discoveries.

All of them, down to the nineteen year old restaurant hostess, were involved in minor villain activities. Some had smuggled drugs, some laundered money on the side, one was a known broker. They kept climbing the ladder of severity. It was worrisome.

While the chances of the LOV’s involvement was low, the commission was still searching for their hideout. He’d caught wind of some of the activity revolving around that ongoing mission. He wasn’t assigned to it, but he liked to keep an ear to the ground.

Association with the LOV or not, these homicides kept bothering him. There’s something he’s not seeing. He dislikes the sensation. It makes him tense, ill at ease. Once he steps outside the police headquarters he launches himself into the sleet grey skies.

It looks like rain.

If he’s wanting to glean as much as he can from those early crime scenes, he better hurry. Hawks doesn’t like rain. It makes his feathers feel bogged down and dampened. Unfortunately, it has the same effect on evidence. Rain can whisk the little details away, slicking and drifting as it washes down to the vast sea. It can easily snag vital clues on its meandering path, erasing as it goes.

******

The first murder took place on the fourth floor of a shabby apartment. The victim lived in the 19th unit and was a 43 year old male. He was a well known loner. So, it was a shock to discover that he ran a pilfering ring. The ring wasn’t a small scale enterprise either. No, this went deep. It connected to three other islands and the Japanese mainland. There’s no way this guy was a simple recluse. If anything, he was nothing short of a criminal mastermind.

His body had been left in an odd position. It was likely staged, purposeful.

He was discovered by his landlord. Rent was due and it was unusual for him to be late with the payment. So, the landlord let himself into the 19th unit. It’s a small wonder no one reported the smell earlier. Apparently, it was putrid, acidic, gut churning. A mix of tarnished copper and old, rotten meat.

In all likelihood, he was murdered elsewhere and dragged back to the unit. Nothing in the room, besides his corpse, was scorched. The victim was splayed on his small bed, but the placement was strange. His feet were resting on his ashen pillow, shoes still on his feet. Meanwhile, his head was at the foot of his bed, pointing northward.

Hawks and one of the assigned heroes, a friendly guy named Amano, are going over the case file with two members of the forensic team. Apparently, one of the team members hadn’t been part of the original investigation clean up and bagging. As Hawks and Amano are sharing the crime scene photos, asking the forensic team questions, the taller of the two, gasps, clapping a hand over his lips.

Hawks tilts his head at the man’s reaction, his feathers automatically feeling for his pulse. It’s elevated and the guy appears to be truly bothered. It’s an upsetting picture, to be sure, but this is his job. He cleans up blood and guts for a living. Surely, he’s seen worse.

“You ok?” Hawks’ asks, his amber eyes shifting over the man’s face.

“F-fine. It’s just, well, look at him.”

Hawks takes the photo back. Did he miss something?

“What about him?”

“Look at the direction his head’s facing.”

“Uh,” Hawks examines the position of the hazy sun that peeks through the rain clouds outside the window. “North?”

Now the other forensic team member gasps. What the hell? What does facing north have to do with anything? It’s a cardinal direction. What would they say if he was facing the West? Again, are these people deliberately trying to bog his investigation down?

“I don’t see what, uh, relevance that has.” Hawks tells the two, looking over to Amano. The hero doesn’t seem to be bothered by their outburst. He just shrugs at Hawks’ frank stare.

“It’s supposed to be bad luck, but yeah, there’s not-” Amano begins, finally placing some clarity on the forensic team's outburst of paranoia, but he’s interrupted by the taller, jumpier man.

“Not just that. You collect iron in your blood if you sleep facing north. It brings death.”

The guy said death like it might summon the fearsome spector down on them at any moment. Amano coughs, his hand covering a badly concealed smile. “Yeah, sure. Facing north is bad luck, and, I guess it can bring death, too. Learn something new everyday...”

“Worked pretty well in this guys case,” Hawks muses, arching an eyebrow at the jittery forensic team. “You guys see anything else? Something a little more, I don’t know, pertinent?”

They don’t get much further with that crime scene.

Amano tags along for Hawks’ review of the other two cases. His agency runs out of this area and he was one of the first responders. He’s not got a lot of extra information, but he knows the people and they know him. It takes the edge off, lets the locals open up a little more.

The next case is in a home. Well, home feels generous, it’s more like a shack. Apparently, the victim liked to collect cat figurines. Like, really, really liked to collect cat figurines. There’s over sixty of them, they’re scattered around the place, tucked into nooks and crannies. It feels like a thousand little eyes are watching the two heroes as they canvas the space. It’s creepy. Hawks dislikes the sensation. His feathers keep lifting, feeling, spreading out.

The woman had been found at her kitchen table. She was propped into a chair, sitting, like nothing in the world, save her crisp remains, was amiss. The only way you could achieve a staging of that caliber was to wait for the body to enter rigor mortis.

That takes time.

Full rigor sets in around 5 to 12 hours after death has occured. Whomever did this must have had time to spare. And they weren’t worried about being caught during that time. No, they were too busy planning out the dramatic effect of their crimes.

Once again, he feels like he’s missing something.

One body was left pushing a garden cart. Literally, the man was found, early in the morning with his hands tied to a wheelbarrow. He was posed mid task, his arm lifted, reaching for someone, or something. Trouble was, the guy didn’t work as a gardener. No, he was a low level broker. Someone darting under the criminal radar. He’d eluded the police and heroes for months. Looks like his luck ran out.

The eighth body, the congressman, was discovered at a popular wharf. This crime scene is still in the process of being cleaned up, so there’s a flurry of people bustling around. Amano, and the other hero, Matsuura, who’s also been assigned to Hawks’ investigation, are talking with witnesses, gathering information and scheduling interviews. This kind of hero work is never ending. Hawks is grateful they’re willing to take on the grunt work.

As Hawks is kneeling, peering over the ledge of the pier, looking down on the blackened wood and debris, a loud cawing breaks out. It echoes on the wind, coiling and lifting. It’s a funny sound. Like it’s far away and dulled. It makes Hawks’ wings fan out, overstimulated and brittle. The heroes and crime scene investigators debate on the origin of the noise. It doesn’t help that there’s no bird that’s wheeling above them. No, the skies are dark and empty, with a light misting of rain starting to drip onto the lashing sea.

“What is that?”

“Is it a gull?”

“It’s creepy. There’s nothing even flying around. But, it sounds so close.”

“I think it’s a seabird. It’s gotta be, sometimes they fly out here looking for fish.”

“I’ve never heard a seagull sound like that.”

“There are other birds besides seagulls, idiot. It could be a pelican-”

“It’s a crow,” Hawks’ supplies, standing and turning back to the clutch of people who are quickly gathering up their supplies, doing their best to get the important pieces of evidence protected from the rain.

“Huh? Did he say a crow?”

“Oh, damn, that’s a sign of death.”

“No...I think it’s illness, not death.”

Hawks’ walks to Amano and Matsuura, he tells them he’ll meet them back at the police headquarters. He needs to start his interviews if he wants to even have a prayer of snagging a bite to eat. He’s been subsisting off coffee since he flew in and his stomach is rumbling, loudly.

The investigators are still debating the meaning of the crow caws when he takes off. His wings beat powerfully beside his head and he lifts above the grey storm clouds, coasting high, past the skyline.

Despite the strange mannerisms that surround him, they are right about one thing: there’s more to these killings than meets the eye.

Things feel off in every crime scene. Were their belongings really left that way? Or, have the details been staged? Plus, the murders keep escalating. The particulars are spreading out and deepening as they interweave. The major connecting thread is still the state of the bodies, but even that is starting to feel vague. Hawks shudders a bit of excess moisture from the tips of his wings. Fingers crossed, some of these witnesses and relatives of the victims will have a little more substance for him to chew on.

******

Oh, they have something alright.

It’s more hushed rumors and strange folk tales. God, the sheer frightened gullibility of these islanders is wild. The whole place feels so backwoodsey, lost in a bygone era. There’s always a prayer or blessing that needs to be uttered. Or, some supernatural logic that he needs to look into. Did you consider the devil, Hawks? He hides in the details, you know?

It’s fucking weird.

Hawks is treading in unfamiliar waters with this tripe. He didn’t grow up with any of this. The HPSC certainly hadn't offered him a course on Japanese islander folk traditions during his childhood. Still, these people, for the most part, seem well off, educated, cultured even. Some aren’t even from this island. But, they seem to be infected with the same disease: ghosts, oni spirits, and bad omens. It’s a whirling circle of nonsense and Hawks’ wants off this ride.

“I got a call from her.”

“From the victim, your sister?”

“Yeah, it came in at 4:49 am.”

“Ma’m, that’s not possible. The coroner noted that rigor mortis had set in by 2 am”

“She sounded faint. It was like she was underwater, but it was her. She screamed at me.”

“She screamed at you?”

“Yeah, it was this low scream. Kinda, like a gasp? Like she couldn’t breathe. It kept getting louder and louder and louder. It hurt my ears. They felt like they were ringing, pounding. Then, the line just went dead. I can still hear it, that scream. Every time I close my eyes, or whenever I least...I-I can still hear her.”

“Do you have your phone records?”

Hawks is trying to make sense of it all, but it’s like they’re talking to each other before they come into the interview room, telling each new interviewee to up the ante.

See if you can spook the number three hero. Go on, it’ll be fun.

There’s a slew of strange occurrences. Disembodied voices, knocking on windows, doors opening on their own, quiet voids of cold that they step into. Ghosts keep popping up.

Then, there’s the oni spirits. They have red faces and they lean in close, their fangs reaching, gnashing, grinding. One woman, who was married to one of the victims, burst into tears, her terrified sobbing turning into a frantic wail.

She had seen an ogre in her back garden. It was pushing a cart and the cart was on fire. Hawks’ checked his notes as he patted the woman’s back, trying to help her move through a few breathing exercises. One of the victims was found propped, pushing a wheelbarrow, could it be…

No. It’s another dead end.

This woman didn’t know that dead man, the one who was pushing the cart. She didn’t even live on the same side of town. Ugh, this is endless. It might be easier if he did apply these delusions to his investigation. At least that way he’ll feel sane.

Some of the victims had been acting suspicious, paranoid, on edge before their deaths. One of them had gotten a phone call in the middle of the night and ran off. The next day she was found dead in her home, burnt and drifting into ash.

“So, she got the call and just ran out the door?”

“Yes. But, she let it ring four times.”

“You said that already. I’m not sure-”

“She picked it up after the fourth ring.” The aunt of the victim is looking at Hawks expectantly, her blue eyes wide, starting.

“I don’t-”

“You know what that means...don’t you?”

“The hidden significance of picking up a phone on the fourth ring? No, no I don’t.”

They never fully expand on their weird theories. They’re normal comments to them. He debates looking up the meaning of the number four on his phone, but he tamps down the urge. It doesn’t pertain to the case. It’s useless drivel, a waste of time.

An adult man shows him this ugly, ugly drawing of a cat. It’s pulling a flaming cart. Hawks doesn’t even want to touch the paper. The man keeps pointing back at it as he goes over his neighbor’s timeline.

This particular witness is connected to the city councilman. The one that was oh, so important to the police chief. It’s a high profile case and it’s being taken seriously. Yet, here’s this supposedly credible witness, flashing a childish scrawl up to his nose, asking him to look for the phenomena, like it’s a normal request to ask the number three hero to look for nonexistent demons.

‘There’s gotta be more to this’, he tells Hawks, his voice broken, fervid. ‘Something, something has to be there, after all, the councilman was murdered for a reason’.

The man with the drawing is right about that, at least.

These are not random crimes. The MO is too similar. Every single victim was involved in some sort of villainous activity. Yeah, the guys correct on that one sane theory of his: ‘There’s gotta be something there’. But, whatever it is, it’s not this cat thing.

Hawks calls a halt to their interview and glumly munches on his cold chicken sandwich as he waits for the next witness to be called in. His head is pounding and he’s praying for some new development to fall into his lap, at least that way he can conclude things and get the hell off this island.

******

The 9th victim is an outlier.

He’s high up in social circles and he was a popular man. He’s also been accused of money laundering, tax evasion and fraud. He was acquitted on all charges, but his past never did stop nipping at his heels. However, that’s not what makes him an outlier.

No, that’s reserved for the state of his body.

Most of the victims have been burned to a crisp, leaving nothing behind, save bone and gristle. You can still see this guy's face and defining features. He’s a little charred, but it’s almost like the flames stopped right before they got past his chin.

They transport his body to the morgue and Hawks finishes the combing of the crime scene, setting up a new batch of interview times and creating witness reports. He leaves just as the sun is dipping under the horizon.

******

It’s late now, and the cool sea breeze blows in through his open hotel windows, soothing across his crimson plumage. It’s his first evening off in over a week. He’s still working though, typing his reports into his laptop.

He’s forgone his usual coffee this evening. He wants to try and see if he can catch a full eight hours tonight. God, what a fucking delicious treat that would be. Eight hours? That’s the real ghost here.

He shuts off his laptop and flops himself across his bed, his wings tucking into his side, burrowing his shoulders into their reassuring warmth.

He slips into the lull between realities, his mind whirring, the case resting heavily against the forefront of his thoughts. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he can’t distinguish between dream and actuality as he drifts off.

There’s something there.

It keeps to the edge of his vision, a dark shadow that leeches the color from whatever it touches. He can feel it watching him. It shifts quickly when he cocks his head to get a better look, sliding across the blank expanse like quicksilver, fluid and slick.

He looks away from the edges of his dreamscape and turns. He blinks in surprise. He’s at one of the crime scenes. It’s the one with the man in the wheelbarrow. There’s a crowd pressing around him and that dark figure is blotted toward the back, lurking, watching. The people around him murmur and whisper, too soft to hear. They don’t seem to notice him. They also don’t appear to have faces. They’re just blank voids, with soft notches where eyes, noses, and mouths should be. Unthinking, Hawks reaches for one of them and his hand slips through the air, weightless and heavy in the same motion.

When he blinks again he’s in that lady’s shack, the one with all the cat figurines. That wraith is sitting at her kitchen table. It’s not moving and he doesn’t feel particularly threatened by its proximity. Still, he dislikes this whole thing. If he can touch it, maybe he’ll wake up.

He’s stepping forward when he hears a soft mewl. There’s a black cat on a shelf. It’s tiny and lithe. It jumps in front of him, a low purr rumbling from its chest. It looks up at him, orange eyes fastening on his amber ones. Odd, he thinks, that woman only had figures. No living cats were evident in the house.

The cat chirps four times. It’s a light, high pitched sound that makes his ears ache. It almost sounds like a phone. The cat lifts its tail and turns, padding soundlessly into the next room. Intrigued, Hawks follows.

Now, he’s walking down a street. The cat is still in front of him, weaving in and out. That purr of it is loud and sharp as it vibrates around his ears. He keeps trying to get the feline’s attention. He pspsp’s at the dark cat, clicking his tongue, but it doesn’t respond. Hawks is distracted, not paying any mind to his surroundings, wholly focused on the feline.

The voice startles him.

It’s rasping and deep and it’s calling his name. Not his hero name, no, it’s saying his real name, over and over.

KEIGO TAKAMI.

Keigo Takami, he thinks, stumbling over words that make him, him. It sounds strange now, foreign. He hasn’t heard that name in such a long time. How did…

The voice is coming from behind him now. He whirls around and is face to face with that man. The 9th victim, the one whose face you could still see. He’s charred and battered, and blood is dripping in long rivulets from his gaping skin, pooling onto the ashen sidewalk.

His eyes are wide, searching but not seeing. The pupil and iris are both milky white, rolling around in the cavities of his sockets. Then, his mouth pops open. It’s horrifically wide, like it’s caught in a scream. His teeth are crumbling before Hawks’ eyes, black pearls that slide from the man’s lips and clatter around his feet.

Hawks is stunned, unsure, but, fuck, he can’t move. He tries to flap his wings, knowing that they’ll tug him away from this horror that’s in front of him. Except, there’s no whoosh of air, no lift. There’s nothing. What? How...

His hands bat at the emptiness along his back. Where are they? What is this? His fingertips press along his shoulders, searching, desperate. His quirk, it’s...it’s just gone. He’s frantic now and that makes him clumsy. His feet tangle under him and he falls. Grounded, his legs instinctively begin to push away from the shell of a man in front of him.

The figure moves with him. Hawks keeps scrabbling away, but the man is even closer now and his bare feet are disintegrating with each shuffling pad forward. Still, he keeps on. Hawks tries to move again, tries to shift, but he’s been cast in stone. He can’t look away...he can’t…

The man is almost upon him now. His fingers are crumbling, the ash they create is making him choke. He can’t breath, he’s wheezing, unable to pull oxygen through his trembling lips. Hawks’ lungs are burning...

Then, Hawks’ wakes up.

He’s sweating. His skin feels hot and his wings are flared. The feathers are quivering, searching. They bring him back bits and pieces. There’s someone sobbing two rooms over, someone is sleeping below him, their breath warm, he can almost feel it, pushing in and out, in and out. There’s a phone ringing. How many rings? What if it’s four...

Stop, stop.

Hawks tucks his wings back, ignoring the sounds, the sensations. The plumage wraps around him and he ducks his head into the darkness that they blanket him in. He’s comforted by the reassuring, solid presence of his quirk. He thought he’d lost it. His shoulders still hurt from his flailing motions. What is going on? He’s never had a dream like that. It felt so...so real.

No. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. He doesn't believe in this stuff. It’s not real. There’s no such thing as ghosts.

He tries to lay back down.

He’s cooled off some, but his wings keep flapping, he’s stopped trying to fight them. His quirk is going into overdrive. This hasn’t happened to him in years, not since he was a kid. He tosses his pillow over his head, trying to stifle out the noise his quirk keeps drowning him in. He’s tired and overstimulated. Each breath stings and he tries to count, to walk through the steps that have been with him since childhood. Just be still, Hawks. It doesn’t matter.

The sun is peeking over the horizon when he finally dozes off, his head heavy, fogged with exhaustion.

******

Hawks grabs two nitro coffees the next morning.

He practically inhales the dark liquid, hoping it will let him evade the haze of tiredness that thrums through his veins. It’s a slow day, thank God. There’s nothing of note that occurred the night before. Everything is pacing along its planned trajectory. There are no new bodies and the last interviews go by without any mention of spirits or the paranormal.

Matsuura offers to take him for some lunch. Hawks, always eager to expand his palette, eagerly agrees and the two men head into the city. It’s a weekend, so the streets are crowded. People recognize Hawks and he chats with them, grateful for the welling of normalcy that the interactions bring. He’s signing an autograph when he catches sight of movement in a darkened alleyway.

It’s not a particularly noticeable shift, but something about it feels strange. Hawks hands the freshly signed soccer ball back to the gang of kids around him and tilts his head toward the motion. He blinks. What the fuck? That’s not possible.

It’s the man from his dream. He’s walking, steps heavy, sluggish and he’s moving into the alley. The 9th victim? But, but how? What?

His wings react to his agitation and he hones in on the spot, reaching, snatching at anything he can sense. His fierce wings never let him down. They’re versatile, practiced and perfected. Feathers detach and shimmer into the midday sun, ducking around corners and onto rooftops, feeling.

There’s nothing.

No heartbeat, no footsteps, no voices. Hawks’ eyes had slipped closed as he felt for the man and he snaps them open again, his avian pupils dilating, constricting to a fine point. He turns to Matsuura and tells the hero he’s going to check something out. His wings lift before Matsuura can answer and he flaps into the air, the sea breeze assisting his ascension.

The rooftops are empty and Hawks scans the streets below, his wings rustling as he pulls himself along. Maybe it was a trick of his mind? Did he really see that guy? That’s a stupid question, how could he have? That man is dead. It’s gotta be his tired psyche. He didn’t sleep well, plus this case has been on his brain so much that he’s even dreaming about it.

He lands on a nearby roof, his boots hitting the tiles roughly. Hawks closes his eyes again, sending a few more feathers out. The man, if he is real, will take this path if he is using the alleyway as an escape. There are no other routes available to him.

He’s still attuned to his scattered feathers when he hears the cat hiss at him. His eyes open and he sees the animal. It’s a black cat.

It’s across the street, lingering in an open window, its back arched and its fur standing on end. Hawks narrows his eyes at the aggressive display. There are way too many cats on this island.

As he and the cat continue to engage in their silent staring contest, he hears a scritching sound coming from the street below. Hawks follows the noise, leaning over the edge of the rooftop. A child is playing below. She is sketching something into the concrete with bits of multicolored chalk.

It looks like...huh?

It looks like some kind of cart, but, why...why is it on fire? She is busy tracing the licking flames, a yellow piece of chalk clutched in her small fist. She’s humming a mindless song. It sounds like some kind of dirge. It’s soft and melancholic, following a minor tune. A shiver creeps up Hawks’ spine, but he ignores the pebbling of his skin, shaking his head.

Curious, Hawks wheels down, tapping along the street. He keeps a little ways away from the girl, he’s not wanting to startle her. His long fingers reach behind him, into his utility pocket that sits on his belt. He tugs out a small sticker sheet. He always keeps little trinkets in his pockets. It takes real effort to put people at ease and Hawks prides himself on his ability to steadfastly maintain that part of his image. He kneels on his haunches, dropping himself to a friendlier level before calling out to the little girl.

“Hey! That’s a pretty picture.” His voice is all light and honey and he has a bright smile on his face.

“Oh!” the little girl chirps, beaming her own grin back at him. “Thank you!”

“Tell me about your drawing.”

“It’s a Kasha.”

“Hmm, I don’t know what a Kasha is. Can you tell me about the Kasha?”

“They come to take away bad people.” The little girl replies, going back to her sketch, perfecting her lines and colors.

“Oh! There’s a kitty in your drawing. Is the kitty a Kasha too?” Hawks asks, noticing the calico cat that’s attached to the handles on the front of the cart. It looks angry, vengeful. Strange for a kiddo to draw something so eerie.

“That’s the spirit of the nekomata, silly. Don’t you know anything?”

“Haha,” Hawks laughs, a genuine sound that makes him throw his head back, his hand bashfully scratching the back of his head. “Guess I don’t, huh? Do you like to draw...ghosts?”

“Not really. If I draw them they won’t-”

A distant voice is calling out a name. It’s female and coming from a house a few feet away, no doubt the girl’s mother or sister. The little girl calls back.

“Coming mama! I gotta go, mister.”

“Here,” Hawks begins, detaching a smaller feather and drifting the little set of stickers over to the girl’s chubby hands. “Thank you for answering my questions,” he smiles. She coos and snatches the sparkly sheet, the sunlight catches the glitter that adorns the stickers. He tickles her cheek with his detached feather and she laughs.

Her mother calls again and she starts to run off, her yellow shoes pounding on the street. Belatedly, she pauses before rounding the corner and bows low, a quick thank you slipping from her mouth. He waves back and smiles as she walks into her home, the door clicking behind her. Once he’s alone in the alleyway his grin drops and he stands, looking down at her drawing.

It’s so freaking odd. Sure, sure, these cases are in the news. But the drawing looks...familiar somehow.

Oh, that’s why.

That man he interviewed, the one connected to the congressmen, had drawn something similar. Even then, back in that dark interrogation room, the strange figures looked like something he’d seen before, but where?

That nagging feeling is back. It pulls at the back of his mind. What is going on?

Hawks pulls out a small notepad and replicates the girl’s drawing, noting the colors and positions of the nekomata. As he sketches, his wings arc above his head, lifting and lowering meditatively.

******

He comes back to the police precinct, his hands tucked deeply into his pockets. As he walks toward the chief’s office he runs into Amano. He’s the elder of his two assigned heroes and a font of knowledge about the island and its inhabitants. Maybe he’ll know something more about this doodle that keeps cropping up.

“Hey, Amano, you seen any weird drawings around town? Or, at the crime scenes maybe?”

“Weird? Like how?”

Hawks pulls out his notepad, flipping to the page with his sketch of the cat pushing the burning cart. Amano chortles, one gloved hand coming to cover his mirth.

“What is that? It looks terrible.”

“I’m not much of an artist, I'll give you that one. In my defense, it’s based on a kid's drawing, so cut me some slack here, man. She said it was supposed to be a kasha and a nekomata?”

“Oh! Yeah, I can kinda see that now. I know what those are. According to legend, kasha appear during rainstorms. They steal corpses out of their coffins. Some of the older folks say they collect the souls of the damned. You can’t get the souls back if the kasha get them, they’re taken to hell, or eaten, depending on what version of the story you’re listening to.

I mean, they’re all just old wives tales. We used to tell them on camping trips. They’re bedtime stories, something to scare kids into being good. Ooo, misbehave and you’ll get taken to hell.

Eh, that feels kinda strong when I say it outloud, hopefully people don’t tell their kids stuff like that. Anyway, it’s not real.” Amano pauses, his head tilting at Hawks’ serious expression. “Isn’t it a little early to be getting into ghost stories? It’s summertime. Besides...”

Hawks tugs his phone out of his jacket pocket, flicking through the crime scene photos as Amano elaborates on how ridiculous this ghoulish conversation is. Normally, Hawks would agree, but there’s got to be...oh...OH.

There it is.

His finger stills over the glass of his phone. It’s tiny, basically a scrawl, but it’s there. He flicks through some of the other photos, swiping through the different locations, searching. Ah-ha! Again, there’s that scrawl. This time, it’s almost cropped out of the photo. Still, there are two crime scenes with the scrawling of chalk.

It’s a tiny drawing, so tiny he looked right over it originally, but now that he knows what he’s looking for, it’s there, plain as day. It’s a drawing of a tiny cart with a cat pulling the handles, lugging the wheels forward.

Amano is still talking when Hawks looks back up. Hawks butts into his elaborations, not caring that he’s interrupting the man.

“Ok, so they take evil doers away? Spooky. Question for you. You got any theories on why it’s cropping up all over town?” Hawks lifts the phone to Amano’s face. Amano takes the device and examines the strange markings, his brow creases, but he hands Hawks his phone back with a small smirk on his lips.

“It’s just talk, man. People do all sorts of superstitious things around here. Don’t look too hard into it. You believe what you want to, I don’t know. If that makes sense. Like those old sayings: ‘Don’t clip your nails before bed’. ‘No whistling at night’. It’s just something to say.

Superstitions are weird like that. Kinda like why you don’t have a fourth floor in a hospital. The number four looks like the word for death when you write it out. It’s bad form. It’s asking for trouble. So, don’t put a fourth floor, and boom, no problems with death.”

Hawks hums at Amano’s explanation. Ok, that superstition about the fourth floor, yeah, that one he had heard about. Amano claps a hand on Hawks shoulder and tells him he’s going to call a few more witnesses in. Hawks nods distantly, his mind whirring, processing. Despite Amano’s assurances, something still feels off.

******

He’s got a night shift.

It’s only for one evening, so it shouldn't fuck up his sleep schedule too much. Hawks has already decided that he’s going to circle back to all of the crime scenes. He’s not used to being out of the loop, or being the one that people are looking at quizzically.

He’d shown the drawings to the head investigator and the man had given him a blank look before asking Hawks if he needed some time off from the case. If he’d been asked that question a few days later, Hawks might have taken him up on the offer.

It’s been five days since he had that dream, but he’s still seeing that man. He’s determined to haunt him, to flit on the side of Hawks’ vision, drifting around like a dead leaf in a breeze.

He saw him at a bus stop the other evening. His dark hair was plastered to his face, burnt skin sloughing off his shoulders. He looked like a walking horror and Hawks had brought himself to an abrupt stop, staring at the figure below. The bus pulled up to the stop seconds after, the sleek metal shielding the man from view. By the time Hawks lifted himself higher, the man was gone.

He saw him in windows, peering sightlessly out of the glass. He spied the man walking home from the train, trailing long streams of ash and smoke behind him. He never makes any sound. He’s not alive, so why would he? He had spoken to him in his dream, called his name, but after that? There was nothing.

The vacancy of his presence is what startles Hawks the most.

There’s nothing to feel, nothing to sense. It’s just this vast, blank, emptiness. For someone with a quirk like his, it’s deeply unsettling. Hawks’ life revolves around his ability to sense, to feel. The plight of the dead man makes his chest hurt with its loneliness and abject barrenness. Is that what it’s like to die? You drift into this void, alone? He doesn’t seem to have anywhere to go. Is this his routine? Is he trapped in an endless loop, playing out his final movements? How long does he have to participate in this charade? Is this some kind of purgatory for him?

Distracted by his thoughts, Hawks spots a different man down a dark street as he flies overhead. It looks like he’s pushing a creaking wheelbarrow. Wait. A wheelbarrow? He looks again, wheeling back through the night sky, but there’s no one there now. No, the street is desolate, not even the gleam of the moon can brighten the winding sidewalks.

Is this really a ghost? Do these visions even exist? Hawks has never given the topic of the paranormal much thought. It’s always been an outlier, untrue, and untested. A pseudoscience. Well, ghosts or not, whatever is going on, Hawks needs some rest.

The rest of the night passes uneventfully and Hawks collapses onto his bed, drifting to sleep as soon as his golden head hits the pillows.

******

After a goodnight’s sleep, it does get a little easier.

He feels like his mind has cleared, the cobwebs brushed to one side, for now. Despite the clarity, he’s still seeing something. The man hasn’t gone away. No, even the daylight sun isn’t able to banish him. He saw him in his hotel lobby this morning, waiting for an elevator. By the time Hawks zoomed over, he was gone, the only evidence of his presence is the rising numbers on the illuminated floor panel, clicking up, toward the 4th floor.

That night, while getting a late night coffee, Hawks, long since given up his avoidance of caffeine in the evenings, spies something a little more sinister. As he’s paying the friendly barista, he notices someone lugging something across the road. It looks like it’s heavy, dragging against the street. They’re struggling to hoist it and it’s looking more and more like a body to Hawks’ frazzled nerves. He can’t be sure if it’s the specter that’s been lurking after him, but he’s not taking any chances. Again, Hawks is fast, but it’s not his speed that’s letting him down here.

Each and every time, there’s just nothing there.

Is he freaking haunted now? Is that a thing? That crazy dream hasn’t returned, so that’s one, fleeting, plus. Wait. Does thinking about the paranormal bring it into existence? Is that how ghosts work? Ugh, if he’s going to be plagued, he might as well read up on this shit. What the fuck is going on? Is it the town? Is it the pressure of this case? Is it him?

As he takes himself, and his coffee, up to his hotel room, he ponders the strange predicament he’s landed himself in. He can’t fit all the pieces together. It’s too strange, too abnormal. He wants to lay down, try to get a little sleep. But, a hero's work is never done. He’s got another report to type up and another set of interviews to schedule.

As he sits at the small desk that faces the window, he hears a strange cawing. It sounds close, almost like it’s right outside the glass. It’s not the call of a seagull, no, it’s that crow again. But, crows aren’t indigenous to the island. He’d looked them up after that discussion on the wharf. No crows have been spotted on the island in over 50 years. The last known specimen was an old bird, living in the Miyako zoo. It died over 3 years ago.

Hawks pulls himself to his feet, scraping the chair legs against the floor. He opens the window and pokes his head outside. He can smell the salty aroma of the sea. It tickles his nose and makes him take a big inhale of air, filling his lungs with the crisp aroma. The crow can still be heard, shrieking into the night. There’s a soft, familiar, beating of wings, too. He cranes his head, scanning the blackness, his wings are lifted as well, but there’s no bird. Per usual, there’s no movement, and no creature is flapping its way into the night sky.

He closes the window and the cawing echoes to the other side of the room before fading away. Annoyed, he takes a sip of his coffee. Hopefully that’s the last he’ll hear of it. He’s got enough ghosts fucking with him, thank you very much, he’s not wanting to add a disembodied crow to the role call.

******

The next morning Hawks is on a patrol.

The murder cases have stagnated again. While this, on the whole, is good news, simply because there are no new bodies, he still can’t get that damned drawing off his mind. It feels like things are slipping away from him, pulling out with the tide and into the vast realm of the dreaded: unsolved cold case.

He’s frustrated, no, he’s not frustrated, he’s pissed.

He feels like he’s letting the whole town down. He’d been called out here to do a job, but what good has he really been? Sure, the townsfolk are weird, the police chief is an ass and the lead detective pretty much has Hawks written off as a conspiracy theorist nut, but he was sent here to do a job. He’s good at sniffing things out. He’s good at being a hero. He’s not good at waiting, and that’s all this case has turned into, one long stint of stagnation and thumb twiddling.

Hawks glides across the bright sky, the sun reflecting warmly on his ruby red feathers. His eyes and wings are alert, feeling for any disturbances. He’s rounding onto the main street when he sees him.

It’s a living, breathing man. Hawks can feel his heartbeat, it’s pounding against the man’s breastbone. Only problem is, he shouldn’t be in the realm of the living.

The 9th victim ducks into a large bank, his familiar dark hair gleaming in the sun.

Hawks maneuvers to land immediately, his wings tucking against his back and dropping him to the earth at an alarming speed. He startles the small huddle of pedestrians on the sidewalk, but he’s too intent on catching his quarry to smooth any ruffled feathers. He races up the steps of the bank, one broad, gloved hand yanking the glass door open.

There he is. He’s talking with someone. Hawks can almost hear what he’s saying, he just needs to get closer…

“Sir? Can I help you?”

It’s a bank employee. He’s wearing a crisp blue suit and his eyes are wide behind his horn-rimmed glasses. Hawks pauses at his question, then slides past him, but it looks like it was just enough time for the 9th victim to evade him. He’s walking now, disappearing from view, stepping down a back hallway. It looks like he’s following someone…

Hawks turns back to the bank employee, his wings vibrating with annoyance and impatience. “I need to talk with that man, he’s wanted in a murder investigation. My name is Hawks, my hero number is-”

“Oh, I know who you are. O-of course, please, do what you need to d-”

The bank employee’s voice fades as Hawks lifts himself, pulling over the heads of the people waiting in the lobby. A few feathers dash out, feeling, searching.

Where did he go?

Hawks reaches the hallway in record time, his wings folding as he paces over the marble flooring. There’s not much back here, but it does lead to a large, closed vault. Damn it all.

“Sir, sir, SIR! Can we help you? I am the bank manager. You’re not permitted to be back-”

“Sure, you can help me. I need access to this vault. There’s a man, you can check your security cameras, he just walked-”

“I do not have access to the vault. You will need to make a formal-”

“Whaddya’ mean, “you don’t have access”? Then find someone who does. Two men just...Damn it…”

Hawks phone is ringing, he tries to ignore it, but it persists, vibrating and chiming against his leg. The bank manager is bristling, his mustache quivering as he babbles on about warrants, and how heroes can’t act like cops. It doesn’t matter if Hawks is the number three, he can’t ignore protocol. He needs to come back with a warrant, or get out…

His phone’s ringtone continues to slice through the tense air and Hawks, after the 9th, exasperating, ring, lifts it out of his pocket, glancing at the caller ID: it’s the HPSC. Fuck. He accepts the call on a final, shrill note.

“Hawks, here.”

“You need to come back...there’s been...All Might...Kamino...attack…”

An intermittent static keeps breaking over the phone line. It’s a crackling sound, snapping and rustling, it makes his skin crawl. It almost sounds like someone is whispering something, just below the faint hissing. “What? The line is breaking up-” Hawks lifts the phone, ah, there’s no bars in here.

The bank manager is still carrying on, heedless of Hawks’ inattention. “And so, I am within my rights to ask you to-”

“I’m going to need you to wait here and don’t move. Yeah, yeah, sure thing buddy, I don’t have a warrant, but I can make things pretty rough for you if you don’t do as I say. You don’t want to be involved in this case, believe me. Now, do what I asked and stay here.”

Lifting his wings, he flies across the lobby again, swiping a quick text to the police chief, if they hurry they might be able to catch this un-dead, dead guy. He jets himself onto the sidewalk, scattering a gaggle of beach goers.

As he re-dials the HPSC’s number he hears it again. It’s the call of that crow. It startles him and he almost doesn’t lift the dialing phone to his ear. God, this has gotta stop. He scans the sky for any physical sign of the screeching bird. It’s close, cawing and shrieking into the wind. It’s different from the other calls it’s made. It sounds angry, desperate, trying to reach him...trying to tell him something...

The line picks up and a voice repeats the familiar greeting of the HPSC.

“HAWKS, here,” he says, vexed, eyes scanning, looking for the disembodied crow.

The person on the other end asks for him to hold, and a few seconds later the head of the HPSC is answering, her soft voice both grating and reassuring to Hawks.

“Hawks. You need to return to Tokyo, immediately. All Might has been attacked by All for One. There are developments that we cannot discuss over the phone. Leave whatever intel you’ve gathered for the Miyako police chief and get back here. This is a national emergency. We need all hands. I don’t need to tell you, but the implications of this are dire. Hero society as we know it will be forever changed. I repeat, drop whatever you’re doing and get back to headquarters.”

The line clicks and that static sound rises again. There’s a garbling, muttering sound that’s rising from the hiss. It’s saying his name. KeigoTakamiKeigoTakamiKeigoTakami.

Then, all is silent. The voice is gone, the cawing is gone. A deep feeling of dread washes over him. It makes his feathers flair, plumage spreading and flexing. All around him, voices are chatting, laughing, living. They have no idea, blissful in their ignorance. Everything is, no, nothing is ever going to be the same again. God, All Might. If he can’t recover, if he dies...

Hawks lowers the phone, his eyes wide. Suddenly, all these ghosts of his don’t feel so important now.

Notes: @hawksweek2020

Beta edited by @albinoburrito

44 notes · View notes

twstarchives · 5 years ago

Text

How About A Guessing Game?

Card: Ceremony Robes - SR Characters: Cater, Trey, Riddle, Ace, Deuce

Chapter 1

—MIRROR CHAMBER—

(Chattering crowd…)

Cater: Oh! The freshmen are all lined up! They really turned out, huh~? ♪

Trey: Well, of course, Cater. This is their entrance ceremony.

There’s the nervous, skittish ones, and the calm, stone-faced ones… They look so innocent, but also really noisy…

Cater: Think you were this cute two years ago too, Trey-kun~?

Trey: I really don’t remember.

Cater: I probably took pictures of you as a freshman.

Trey: Please don’t show me…

Cater: Well, I know one person who wasn’t innocent since day one of enrolling here…

Riddle: You freshmen over there. Four rows from the right, you three in the back!

Could you stay quiet during the ceremony?

Start whispering again and it’ll immediately be off with your head. Take this warning seriously.

Cater: Whew~! Riddle-kun’s setting things straight right away today too~ It’s almost giving me chills.

Trey: That’s because this is Riddle’s first entrance ceremony as a dorm leader.

He’s probably feeling nervous.

Cater: He’s grumpy every day, though.

Trey: Now then… The dorm sorting ceremony is about to start.

Cater: It’s finally here~♪

Trey: I’m curious about what kind of people will come to our dorm this year. It’d be nice if we got some level-headed students.

Cater: I’m hoping for some bright and easygoing kids~ But not anyone that can’t read the room!! That’d be tricky.

Hey! Why don’t we try to guess who’ll come to Heartslabyul?

Whoever guesses wrong the most has to volunteer as the attendant at the first-year’s welcome party after this.

Trey: Whenever you suggest playing games like that, I feel like you always lose.

Cater: Well, I trust I’ve always had a good eye for people~

Trey: Alright. Either way, you’ll only be able to see the freshmen while they’re having their souls selected.

Cater: Now then… “The 2,000,001st Heartslabyul Freshman Guessing Game” starts now ♪

Cater: There’s the first person. Will that student come to Heartslabyul~?

(They’re looking at Jack)

Cater: Wow, he looks like bad news! I vote no. I don’t think he’d fit our trendy dorm uniform at all.

Trey: I vote no too.

Based on past trends, beastman students are usually assigned to Savanaclaw.

Mirror of Darkness: The shape of thy soul is… Savanaclaw!

Cater: Yup, there he goes~ When it’s your third time attending this entrance ceremony, you start to know the Mirror of Darkness’ sorting habits.

There’s our second person. Will that student come to Heartslabyul~?

(They’re looking at Epel)

Cater: Mhm, that one gets my vote!

Trey: Do you have a reason for that?

Cater: He’s by far the cutest one we’ve seen. If he had an older sister, don’t you think she’d just be gorgeous?

Trey: That’s not a guess, that’s just you wishing for things. Also, he might not even have a sister.

Cater: Well, he should still have a mom, right? …I’m just kidding!! Trey-kun, did I get you?

Trey: I vote no for him.

Cater: Don’t ignore me~…

Cater: Here’s our fifth person…

. . . . . .

Cater: The tenth person…

. . . . . .

Riddle: ——Now then, does that conclude the entrance ceremony?

Listen up, new students. I am the law in Heartslabyul.

Any rule violators will lose their heads. Keep that in mind.

Cater: The “Heartslabyul Freshman Guessing Game” is over~! And sure enough——

Trey: Sorry, Cater. I won 5-to-4.

Have fun attending to the new students. That freshman with auburn hair seems pretty high-spirited.

Cater: God! I lost…

On top of that, Pomefiore snatched up that adorable new student with purple hair...

Chapter 2

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM—

Cater: Alright, attention please! Welcome to Heartslabyul, freshies ♪

We’ve prepared a welcome party for all of you who were sorted into our dorm!

Ace: Are you a first-year too? Hey, what do you think happened to that monster that was going wild at the entrance ceremony?

Deuce: I don’t know.

Ace: Whaddaya say we sneak out and go check it out at the Headmaster’s office?

Cater: Yay~ Mr. first-year with spiky hair, isn’t this exciting~?

Ace: Ah…! When did you get behind me?

Cater: By the way, if you’re not at the welcome party, Riddle-kun will have you lose your head ♪

Ace: O-Of course I’ll be there, Senpai. I’m so moved by this wonderful welcome party. You know?

Deuce: Uh-huh! Y-Yes. Exactly.

Cater: Alright, pull yourselves together… Does everyone have a teacup?

Are they all filled with tea? Nobody poured out a sleeping dormouse by mistake, right?

Alright, cheers for your furthest day away from graduation~! Yay ♪

Trey: You’re handling things well, Cater.

You were able to keep all the restless first-years in line while still keeping the mood upbeat.

Cater: You think~? I just really love parties.

Trey: It helps for you to say that. Since you kept having one trouble after the next just getting ready for this party.

Cater: Right, right, Trey-kun, you work people too hard! I had to do everything from decorating the garden to attending to the freshies.

Trey: Having to attend to the freshmen was your own fault.

Cater: You’re no fun, Trey-kun~!

Trey: Oh, I need to go serve the main dish, meat pie.

I was timing how long I needed in order to serve it warm.

Cater: Trey-kun, you’re a really good cook… but you’re also too devoted to Riddle-kun…

Trey: Haha… Say whatever you want.

Cater: I’m finished with my job too, so after you’re done let’s enjoy ourselves~♪

Trey: Yeah, I’ll see you after then.

Cater: Okay, I’m going to take aesthetic pictures on my phone so I can post them on Magicam~

But before that…

Cater (appearing on the left): Wow, they put the meat pie out on the table! Freshmen, let’s all eat ♪

Cater (on the right): Ahaha! All the new students are flocking towards Trey-kun; it looks like something out of a zombie movie.

Cater (back to center): I’ll take pictures of this too~

Cater: The welcome party is over!

Before heading back to my room, I should upload all the pictures I took today on Magicam.

#TodaysCaykun #EntranceCeremony #ThirdYearPride #NightRavenCeremonyRobesAreRare #NRC

Now touch them up a little~ Done editing! ♪

Oh, I already got some likes. These clothes really sell, huh?

Lately, I’ve been getting a lot of comments from this one follower. I should give them some likes back.

Cater: Hah…

…I’m tired. I really don’t care about this entrance ceremony…

……… …Just kidding.

Well, I’m exhausted, but I was able to post some super attractive selfies today.

I took a lot of pictures with the freshmen too, so I don’t mind spending some time editing those.

Alright, time to go back to the dorm and take a shower.

Oh, right, what about Trey-kun? Did he already go back to his room?

#cater diamond #personal story #ceremony robes

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suntory-toki-senpai · 5 years ago

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Eyes on Fire | Chapter 2

The next morning, I woke up earlier than dawn and couldn’t go back to sleep. I decided it might be a good idea to clean the Tavern and get an early start on the marketplace. I put on some older, worn clothes underneath my good red and black hooded robe to ensure they wouldn’t get dirty while cleaning. An old sleeveless black top and worn red loose pants. I packed a bag with food and another set of clothes for later to open the Tavern. I crept by my grandfather and brother’s rooms as quietly as I could before sneaking out the door.

The walks to and from the Tavern were my favorite, especially since was so quiet and peaceful that early morning. Most mornings people wave and greet one another, but no one was outside yet today. I kept glancing over my shoulder to look at the sea. It looked so serene and picturesque in dim morning light. I always found it ironic that the nation built on the element of fire was surrounded by water. It has always reminded me that while fire brings life and energy, water also brings refreshment and life. All the daydreaming caused me to not pay close attention to what was in front of me and as I turned the corner to the street corner where the Tavern was, I bumped into someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I turned the corner too quickly and didn’t see you!” I shouted and immediately went down for an apologetic bow.

“It’s alright. I should be more watchful of corners,” the familiar voice replied. I pulled myself up from bowing to see the Hooded Man had returned to the Tavern.

“Oh, it’s you again,” I responded. “I wanted to thank you for helping me get rid of those drunken fools last night.”

“You are welcome. It’s a pity to see men in uniform acting so pitiful in public.”

“I’m sure the Fire Lord wouldn’t be pleased to see such a spectacle.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” the Hooded Man said softly as he turned to walk away

“Hey, don’t go!” I exclaimed and grabbed his arm. “Let me get you a cup of green tea, on the house as a ‘thank you.’”

“Ah, that’s not necessary. It was nothing.”

“Please, it’ll just be a few minutes. It’s the least I can do.”

“Okay,” the Hooded Man sighed.

“Great!”

I quickly unlocked the door to the Tavern and offered him a seat behind the bar next to my usual spot. I grabbed the supplies for tea from the back and set them up on the behind the bar counter. When I got the kettle ready for tea, I made sure not to bend the water into it this time, instead opting to fill it from a nearby tin cup.

“No bending today?” he questioned.

“Where did you get such a silly idea,” I laughed.

“I saw you do it.”

“How do you take your morning tea? Strong?” I asked. I scraped the old wood from the stove into a bucket to throw it away and placed fresh wood in the stove, snapping my fingers once again to ignite the flame.

“What is it about water bending that makes you want to hide? Being a dual bender is rare…and…cool,” the Hooded Man pressed.

“What makes you think I’m okay discussing that with a stranger?” I snapped.

The Hooded Man paused for a moment. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s mostly family stuff, I’m not sure you would understand,” I responded.

“I would actually, but you aren’t obligated to tell me anything personal. We are just getting acquainted.”

“Speaking of acquainted,” I said as I measured out the green tea leaves and placed them in the metal strainer of the teapot, “you haven’t told me your name yet.”

“I, uh,” he stammered out.

“Unless you don’t have one,” I replied coyly. “Is that why you wear the hood? So, no one will talk to you: The Nameless Hooded Man?”

I could see a smirk beginning to form on the lower half of the Hooded Man’s face. He moved his hands up to his hood and swiftly pulled it back off his head. His face was in my periphery as I began to pour the hot water into the teapot to steep it. As I turned to grab the yunomi I caught the Hooded Man’s face. A panicked cry escaped my lips as I put together who was in front of me and I immediately flew to the ground in a kneeled bow.

“Fire Lord Zuko!” I cried from the floor, “I am so sorry. I meant no disrespect to you hiding your identity. I had no idea.”

“It’s okay,” the young Fire Lord responded, “please get up.” He got off his chair to help me to my feet. As I grabbed his outstretched hand and stood up, I came face to face with the scar that once marked him as the Banished Prince. It was different from the paintings and posters because the ink cannot convey the depth of the creases and folds of the burn. And the paintings definitely left out the way his golden eyes gleamed over the swollen redness. His eyes had a still beauty despite the horrifying scar.

“Oh, the tea,” I snapped out of the trance and turned towards teapot to check on the tea. My hands trembled as I checked the color of the tea for doneness. It needed a bit longer.

“I’m sorry, but the tea isn’t done yet, my Lord.”

“You don’t need to be so formal…I’m still not used to people being so stiff when they see me,” he replied.

I looked down at the ground and stared at the leather greaves that covered his feet and legs. They looked worn.

“Where did you come up with the name of your shop?” the Fire Lord asked.

“This shop was opened by my grandfather a long time ago. He was working in the refinery as a supervisor at the time and would always bring tea to his coworkers. He also gave them plum wine and sake as gifts for weddings and the birth of a new child. He named the shop after my grandmother who wandered around the Four Nations before settling down with my grandfather,” I replied.

“Wow, that is a very interesting history.”

“Thank you, my family has a wild backstory.”

“Where is your grandmother now?”

“She’s passed away, sadly,” I said meekly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he responded.

“It’s okay. Her spirit is free to travel the Four Nations once again. At least, that’s what my grandfather likes to say. I still do miss her a lot.”

“That is a comforting thought.”

I turned around to check the tea once again and saw it was ready to be served. I brought the cups over to the bar and shakily served the Fire Lord and myself tea.

“You never told me your name,” he said.

“Oh, Sayuri.”

“Sayuri,” he repeated, “pretty.”

“Thank you.”

I glanced over to the window by the door to see the light begin to brighten over the mountains.

“It’s almost daybreak,” I commented. “Have you been out all night?”

“Sort of. I threw those guards in front of their commanders’ homes to have them dealt with accordingly. I should get back to the palace soon though.”

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. I slid off my chair from behind the bar and answered it.

“Hey, I need money to pay the plum guy. He got an order in early so I’m going with Pop to pick it up this morning. I figured you were here early,” Tatsuo said. I turned around to find Fire Lord Zuko gone with his tea still hot in the place where he left it.

“Ugh, fine. Just make sure to get both orders. I ordered more rice, too. I was going to go to the market today to get it,” I responded. I walked over to the small chest we keep under the bar. I took the key from under the bar, opened the chest, and handed Tatsuo a few silver pieces.

“Who’s the tea for?” Tatsuo asked. A wave of panic washed through me as a thought of an excuse.

“I, uh, saw a traveler on my way in that I wanted to give a hot drink to,” I responded.

“I didn’t see anyone wandering around on my way in.”

“Maybe your face scared him off,” I shot back.

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes in response, “did you have anything else you wanted me to pick up from the market?”

“No, just the rice. Thank you.”

“Uh-huh,” Tatsuo replied as he wandered out the door.

I shut and latched the door behind my brother and sighed a sigh of relief.

“I guess he left,” I said out loud. I wandered back behind the bar to the back of the Tavern to grab scrubbers and buckets to clean the store. As soon as I turned the corner a dark figure moved, and I yelled out in surprise and shot a fire jab in the direction of the figure. He quickly blocked it. It was Fire Lord Zuko.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you snuck out the window,” I said.

“No, I would just rather not have an audience,” he responded. “I should get going back to the palace.”

“Oh,” I responded flatly.

“Thank you for the tea, I’m sorry I didn’t get to stay longer to enjoy it.”

“That’s okay. I understand”

The Fire Lord turned to go out the front door.

“Hey,” I said “if you need a place to be alone, you’re welcome here. I promise I’ll leave you alone and you can drink as much tea as you want.”

He turned back to look at me and shot a sweet, small smile. “Thank you, I’ll remember that. Goodbye, Sayuri.”

He pulled his hood back over his head and walked out the front door of the tavern.

“I hope I see you again,” I mumbled quietly.

author’s note: thank you for the likes and reblogs so far! I’m halfway through chapter 3 now, I would like to be a chapter ahead so there’s not much wait time! thank you thank you!

tags: @imagine-yourself-happy

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #eyes on fire | after the war #zuko x reader #zuko x oc

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sasuhinasno1fan · 4 years ago

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Little kitty on the roof who could see spirits- Adrien AUGreste Day 8

So I was gonna do this day but then couldn’t think of anything so I wasn’t going to, then when I was trying to think of an idea of what to do for day 9, I was thinking of, oh dinner for his mom’s birthday and then I thought of Ghost Whisper and when Melinda was thinking about his grandmother when her birthday was coming up and suddenly, I had to do this prompt, but with a much different twist. There is a minor mention of death. Hopefully you enjoy. @adrienaugust Little Kitty on the Roof

“Little kitty on the roof, all alone without his lady.” Adrien hummed to himself as he walked through campus of his university. He just got out of his Ancient Asian History class and he had time before he’d met with his friends for dinner and he didn’t want to go back to the mansion. He was sure his father found out about him moving out. He didn’t want to deal with that.

“What’s that song you’re singing?”

“Ahh!” he spun around to see a little girl staring up at him. There were a few factors that made something very clear to Adrien. One was that everyone passing looked at him, not her. Another was the clothes she was wearing. They suited the time period the university had first been built. The last one was the burst of emotions he was feeling. Ones that didn’t belong to him, but to the spirit of the little girl in front of him. He pulled out his phone and placed it on his ear before gesturing for the little girl to follow him.

“Oh, me?”

He nodded as quickly as possible before walking off, hoping she’d follow.

“So, what was that song? And why can you see me? I’ve been here a long time and no one’s been able to see me.”

“Let’s just say I’m different. I can see people like you. Come on.”

It was easy to find an out of the way bench so he wouldn’t have to have his phone pressed against his face the whole time.

“The song?” she asked again.

He let out a sigh. “It’s from a legend. My mom has been able to see ghosts or earthbound spirits since she was a child, same time I could see them. she did a lot of research and found a story about the first two people who claimed to see spirits. It’s said that they could do it with these artifacts. The little kitty refers to one who loved the other seer with all his heart. Unfortunately, his lady didn’t feel the same. She actually used the artifacts to bring back someone who died that she’d fallen for. The song is a warning about falling for someone.”

“Oh.” The little girl said. “That’s so sad.”

“Well,” he said thinking about Nathalie and his father’s change in relationship after his mother passed. He loved Nathalie, but it was always a sore spot that his father grew much closer to Nathalie not long after his mother’s passing. “It seems to be the truth. Now, how about you? why are you still here?”

As he listened to the girl explain his story, he thought about what she’d said. It was sad that the seer had one sided love. After seeing what his father had done after his wife’s passing and the extra struggles from just growing up with people thinking he was strange, not to mention the one time he trusted someone with his secret only for it to blow up in his face, it felt all too real. Who’d want to date a guy who saw the dead?

____________________________

Getting woken up at 2 am to a fire wasn’t the best thing in the world. Though according to the fireman who came to corral him and others on his floor out of the building, the fire was taken care of but the interior had collapsed into the next building.

“Keep moving please.”

“Ah!” Adrien yelped as one of his slippers fell off. Before he could get it, the fireman directing them scooped it up and pushed him over to the other side of the caution tape. “Hey, I can walk myself.” The minute he was on the other side, his slipper was thrown on the ground with a tired ‘you’re welcome’ from the firefighter.

Adrien huffed and broke the rules by going on the opposite side of the tape to get his slipper. He’d dealt with rude spirits, but it was always the living that made his temper rise with their attitude. He moved to text Nino and the others when he heard his name being called.

“Adrien! Adrien!”

“Mme. Night? What’s wrong?” M. and Mme. Night were neighbours on his floor. While for the first couple weeks, people had been clamouring to see the former model, the Nights had easily beat the crowds back, all while offering him home cooked meals and checking up on him.

“My husband! He’s still inside!” the woman cried, her white hair seeming perfect for being woken up so early.

“Are you sure? Maybe he went around the corner?”

“No! he’s still in there! He’s at the bottom of the stairs!”

That’s when he felt it, the rush of emotions. Mme. Night was dead, but she wouldn’t move on until she knew her husband was safe. It was the least he could do to help the couple who looked after him.

He ducked underneath the tape again, heading toward a fireman who pulled his helmet off to reveal black hair with faded blue and aqua blue eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Sir, you’re supposed to be behind the barricade.” Adrien could tell from the voice it had been the rude one from earlier.

“There’s a man inside.”

“No there isn’t. everyone’s been cleared out.”

Using the same voice, he did with people who would be stubborn about the messages he had, he said, “Yes there is. Please believe me.”

It must have gotten through because the fireman stopped a passing co-worker and the two went back inside. He let out a breath and ducked back, going to the woman’s spirit.

“It’s on the first floor.” She kept moaning, clearly worried.

“They’re going to find him.”

Not long after, some announcement came through the radios as all the fireman stopped and even the hose was shut off. Everyone stood in tense silence before another announcement came through.

“We get 2, we found them!”

Before he knew it, the firemen came out supporting M. Night, sounding weak and coughing but alive. Mme. Night was fireman carried out and placed on a stretcher, confirming what Adrien knew. She was gone.

“I want you to check on him ok?” Mme. Night asked.

“I will, I promise. Thank you, for looking out for me. I won’t forget that.”

“I also hope you won’t forget how special you are. My husband isn’t going to keep trying to find you someone so you’d better keep looking ok?”

He wanted to roll his eyes, like he usually did when the question came up, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do that now. “I will.”

He watched as she passed where her husband was, passed the same rude fireman who was checking over him with such comfort, he didn’t think it was the same person. She walked into the building and when she walked into the light, the ripple of power caused one of the windows above to shatter. He had to be the only person who didn’t flinch and he noticed a pair of aqua blue eyes looking at him. He looked away, mostly to hide his tears.

Little kitty on the rooftop, all alone without his lady. Being alone seemed to be a theme for him.

_________________

Nino and Alya and even Marinette insisted he stay at the DJ’s apartment longer. It was nice to talk to the only friends he had who knew about his ability and talk about Mme. Night. After the funeral though, with M. Night moving in with his daughter, Adrien knew he had to get back to life. Of course, all the snow and the week long sleepover left his refrigerator in shambles. He needed to go shopping, even if it happened to be pouring out. He was actually glad he didn’t take his mother’s umbrella as a sudden gust of wind turned his umbrella inside out, whacking someone he didn’t see until the last minute. One certain familiar fireman. With all the soot no longer on his face, he was able to see the piercings in his ears and the small holes on his bottom lip.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. Please, let me. I can fix that. Remember me?”

“Yeah. You threw my slipper at me.”

At least he looked ashamed. “Tossed.” He looked even more ashamed as he broke one of the pegs, rendering the umbrella useless. He was glad he didn’t bring his mother’s own out even more. “Sorry. I’d be glad to buy you a new one.”

“Uh huh. I hope you’re better at putting out fires. It’s fine though.”

“I’m Luka. Luka Couffaine.”

“Adrien Agreste.” Other than a raised eyebrow, Luka blessedly didn’t ask any questions. “I should go.”

“Where to?” well, wasn’t someone Mr. Eager?

“An umbrella and groceries. I was at my friends’ place for a week and everything went bad, not to mention my place is covered in soot.”

“You know, I’m pretty starved. Let me take you out for something?”

“In this rain? Every place would be crowded.”

“Ever hear of the Umbrella Room?”

The Umbrella Room turned out to be Andre’s ice cream cart, but honestly, Adrien was fine with ice cream for dinner. Luka was turning out to be quite different than he thought. He was actually really nice and cute and he made Adrien feel comfortable.

“Ice cream for dinner, I can hear Nathalie crying.”

“I think she can forgive you.” Luka took Adrien’s wrist, making a circle around it with his fingers. “If my mom saw you, she’d try to stuff you full of food.”

“I’m always happy for a home cooked meal. But I have a feeling it might end up in a few fires?”

Luka laughed. “There’s a reason I joined the Fire Station. I want to be transferred to the Paramedics division though.”

When he was a sullen person, Adrien could easily see that.

“I have to ask though. You knew that old man was still inside. How?”

Adrien shrugged. “Lucky guess. I knew them and didn’t see them.”

Luka shook his head, keeping his gaze on Adrien. “No. You definitely knew they were there. Will you ever tell me?”

He wasn’t demanding an answer like most. He was waiting for Adrien to give him an answer.

“One day.”

_______________________

“He sounds like a dream.” Alya teased as he joined his friends for the last bits of lunch before their shared English class. He’d already had lunch with Luka at the fire station.

“He’s…nice. Ok, more than nice. I haven’t felt this great since, you know.”

“Do you think you’d ever tell him?” Nino asked.

Adrien played with his ring. “I don’t know. I mean ‘little kitty on the roof’ and all that.”

“Please tell me you don’t still think that story is true? Just cause you see ghosts doesn’t mean you’ll be alone for the rest of your life. I know you’re are still upset about how quickly your dad moved on, but you know how in love with her he was. And that relationship with they-who-will-not-be-named doesn’t count. We never liked them and you said your mom didn’t either.” Alya said.

It was funny she mentioned his mom. It hurt that she was still Earthbound but he’d been so stuck on the song she’d taught him, she never thought he’d take it so seriously. She told him she wasn’t going anywhere until he saw he could be happy with someone. After his first official date with Luka, she appeared and wouldn’t stop talking about him like the sun rose and set on him. So far, there was nothing to dissuade her but still. It was kinda embarrassing.

“She’s right Adrien. You were so scared out of your mind to tell us and nothing we’ve heard so far says he would be worse than, you know. Plus, it sounds like he’s so gone for you. I don’t see him using any artifact to bring back a dead lover.”

“Well.” He started, remembering the long-haired guy he’d seen around Luka at times. “Not a dead lover. There’s definitely love when I see him, but it’s familial love.”

“Wonder what he thinks of you?” Alya said. “But seriously, forget how this kitty is lonely without his lady ok? You are happy with your lord. So, stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

He didn’t have to see his mother to know she agreed.

So, when Luka called him, telling him he had news one day and he saw that ghost hovering near him, he decided to take a chance.

“Luka, I’m so proud of you! you got the transfer you wanted.”

“Which means I’m a rookie all over again but it’s fine. Medical school was way too much for me but I still want to help people and now I can.” The ghost looked proud of him too. “Adrien, is something wrong?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just…this is gonna sound really random, but did you lose someone in your life?”

Luka looked confused. “Um, yeah. My older brother, Sass. Why?”

Adrien took a deep breath. The last time he did this, it blew up in his face and he didn’t know if he could live through that again. “He has long hair, same blue eyes as yours and snake bites. Wearing something an 80s child would be proud of.”

Luka looked really confused now. “How do you know that?”

“This is gonna sound really weird, so just bear with me here ok? I can see ghosts or Earthbound Spirits, as my mom called them. Always have been since I was a kid. The reason I knew M. Night was still inside the night we first met? The spirit of his wife came to me and told me so. That’s why they were both there. She had passed on and she couldn’t let her husband to pass on. I’ve seen your brother around you and…”

“tell him I still remember him stealing my violin. He broke a string and wouldn’t give it back until he figured out how to redo it.” Sass told him.

“You stole his violin and when a string broke, you wouldn’t give it back until you fixed it.”

Luka hadn’t pulled away from him, though he kept shaking his head. “How do you know that?”

“Tell him he actually looks better with snake bites than I thought. I kept poking at him that he wouldn’t wear them as well as I did.”

He told him what Sass said and it seemed to click for Luka. “You can see ghosts, spirits sorry. Mom hated Sass’s snake bites and Juleka wouldn’t even consider piercings until she found some pairs she loved from Mom’s collection. You’ve been doing it since you were a kid?” Adrien nodded, feeling the nerves starting to slip from him. “But wait. I guess you help them move on, right? Sass died when I was 10. Why is he still around?”

“I stayed to keep an eye on my family. Once I knew they were happy, I knew I could go. Luka was there when I died though. He still blames himself.”

Adrien felt for Luka. To hold on to those feelings and still be willing to give a smile. “He stayed to make sure you and your family was happy before he left.”

“He’s still waiting on me, isn’t he?” Adrien nodded, and Luka let out a wet sounding laugh. “God, he’s so stubborn. Please tell me he didn’t tell you to date me.”

“No! no, he didn’t. I’ve been so scared of dating people. Last person I dated and told about my, um, secret, threw it in my face and made me feel like I wasn’t worth it.”

“Then they’re an idiot.” He said like he was stating a pure fact. He couldn’t help but feel his heart warm that. “I’m not going to change my mind about how I feel about you, even if you didn’t see my brother. I haven’t felt as happy as I am now until I met you. I don’t think that’ll change anytime soon.”

Maybe this little kitty wouldn’t be so lonely after all.

#adrienaugust #adrienaugreste #adrien can see ghosts #sass is luka's older brother #mention of death #firefighter luka #emt luka #adrien has low self esteem #lukadrien

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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years ago

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The Only Apparatus Required for Happiness is Your Pain

My very first time writing the lovely Adam. Thank you for the request from the prompt list @ghostlightqueen (nearly forgot your new handle then lol)

This festival had been hot, humid and thus far, fairly dull. But I was holding my spot in the mosh for the set that I wanted to see. If I left now, I’d never get this close again. I wasn’t gonna waste the last three hours that I had spent waiting for PUP. When they came out, I felt that familiar wave of excitement wash over me. The show was starting. It was starting. Holy fuck. I’d been dying for the last four months for this moment. As they started the first song, I went to throw my hand up when I suddenly felt it collide with something. I spun around to see that I did not have as much space behind me as what I thought I did, and also a man holding his nose.

“Shit, did I just hit you?” I gasped, slowly feeling the pain settle into my hand as the shock subsided.

“Uh, I think so.” He mumbled. I noticed his hand starting to turn red.

“Is your nose broken??” I shouted over the music.

“Kind of feels like it, yep.” He nodded.

I glanced at the stage briefly, really wanting to stay where I was - I hadn’t seen any of Morbid Stuff live yet. But my heart sank as I saw this guy wince in pain. “Fuck, let me help you.” I said as I grabbed his arm, trying to spot a clear path out of the mosh. It was a delicate balance to weave us through the crowd while at the same time trying to make sure this poor guy didn’t get hurt any further.

I pulled us out and over to a set of toilet blocks nearby, hoping to at least have a better view of his injury when not surrounded by people. Now that we were in a less cramped environment, it was easier to take in what this dude actually looked like. He had bleached blonde hair, stubble littering his chin, and his green eyes were currently boring into mine as he awaited my verdict. He was pretty cute, minus the blood pouring out of his nose. I gently took his hand away, seeing that his nose has a definite bend in it.

“Is it bad?” He asked with an apprehensive expression.

“Yeah, I…” I started, pausing for a minute as I tried to evaluate the situation. “I don’t think your nose is meant to look like that.” I said, unable to stop myself from reaching out to touch it. He hissed in pain as soon as I did, and I pulled my hand back. “How the fuck are you still alive?” I mused to myself.

“It’s a special talent of mine.” He deadpanned as he went back to trying to hold his nose together.

“Here, let me-” I ran off for a second, ducking into one of the vacant stalls to grab a wad of toilet paper. “Use this, at least.” I said as I held it out to him. He gave a grateful nod as he started trying to wipe the blood off of himself.

It was a pretty gruelling few minutes as I watched this man try to clean himself up with single ply toilet paper. I stared for a little bit before I finally felt the need to step in, because obviously I wasn’t going back to the show at this point. “Should we get you to a first aid tent or something?” I asked, watching as he shoved some toilet paper up his nostrils.

“Um… probably.” He agreed.

“God, I’m so sorry for this.” I said, running a hand down my face in exasperation. “Definitely not an ideal way to be meeting someone.”

“I’m Adam, by the way.” He said as he went to offer out his hand for me to shake, before seeing it covered in half-dried blood and retracting it. I told him my name offhandedly, still rather focused on the way the toilet paper shoved up his nose was gradually turning red.

“Come on, let’s go.” I said as I grabbed his hand anyway and started trying to find the specific white tent I was after.

As soon as I spotted the first aid sign, I picked up the pace. The amount of blood this guy was currently losing probably wasn’t ideal. The paramedic sat in the tent saw us from a few metres away, and once she saw the state of him, she quickly stood up and walked over to one side of the tent. When we walked in, she already had an ice pack in hand, ready to go.

“Got a broken nose over here.” She called out over her shoulder as she began examining him. Another paramedic popped their head around the back of the tent before stepping over “His girlfriend brought him in.” The first paramedic said to the one who had just walked over.

“Uh, not girlfriend.” I corrected. “Only just met this dude.”

“Adam.” He reminded me.

The first paramedic shot me a curious glance, before continuing to tend to Adam’s broken nose. I could hear the muffled noises of the stage in the distance, still half wishing I had kept my spot. But I did feel pretty guilty for accidentally punching this guy- Adam, square in the face. Even if it was accidental. “You should be right with a splint, mate.” The second paramedic said as he wandered off to get some supplies.

“Do you need any pain relief?” The first chimed in.

“Yes, please.” He nodded eagerly.

I waited around as they gathered their equipment and gave him some pills to swallow, just kind of awkwardly lingering.

“You can go, you know.” Adam said quietly. I looked down at him sat on the makeshift hospital bed, staring at the ice pack he still had held against his nose. “But thank you for bringing me here.” He added with a grin. For someone who had just had their nose broken by me, he seemed to be in pretty high spirits.

“I feel responsible, though.” I groaned. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, really.” He laughed.

“I must’ve ruined your day.” I added, not really able to take his comment to heart.

“I’ll live.” He shrugged.

“Is there any way I can make it up to you?” I asked with a concerned frown.

“I dunno.” He sighed, looking like he was thinking about it for a second. “Buy me a drink or something after this?” He suggested.

“I’m pretty sure I can manage that.” I smiled, feeling a little bit of the guilt alleviate.

#Adam Hann x Reader #Sunsetinmyvein #Sunsetinmyvein prompts #Sunsetinmyvein Requests

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justlookatthosesausages · 5 years ago

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“Lift the Spirit” :: a fluff/angst post-Frozen 2 Elsamaren fanfic

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Chapter 6: Every inch of me is trembling

=======

The Northuldra tied ropes around Victor’s wrists in a firm tug and pushed him through the Forest. Elsa had warned Arendelle through a message from Gale, telling them about the outcome of the battle, and asking to summon soldiers at the Elemental Stones as soon as possible. They would all go back to the kingdom with him as a prisoner.

The Sami warriors were walking with their weapons pointing at Victor, who was complying and silent. Some Northuldra were muttering insults towards him for his actions, and poking at him with their staff. However, Victor didn’t get angry nor struggled. He had surrendered long ago.

Elsa looked at the battlefield, and sent a mental note to Nokk to erase all the traces of her ice shields and arrows with a magical wave. The Water Spirit nodded internally, taking this opportunity to congratulate the Snow Queen on the issue of the battle.

She then turned to her family. Because of their injuries, most of them had trouble moving and they needed to be healed urgently. Elsa asked Pebble to pick them up and bring them to the camp. Thankfully, the Giant hadn’t been far, as he always was in the vicinity of the Dark Sea to play with Nokk.

Elsa helped her family members to keep their balance and stand in his palm as they were rapidly transported. If she weren’t deeply concerned about their wounds, she would have laughed hard at how they were all holding tight to Pebble’s fingers. Ryder had panicked yelps as they were moving fifteen meters from the ground. While the others had hands on the rock fingers, he was clinging to it with his legs as well, ignoring his pain in profit of safety.

When the adorable Giant softly put them down on the ground near the camp, he made Elsa promise that she would never make him live that again.

The Snow Queen chuckled, but then her expression changed. She gestured to the Northuldra for immediate help, and quickly explained that she needed people to heal wounds and others to go get the reindeer and horse mounts further in the forest. Jongu confirmed the orders, obeying to the Fifth Spirit.

=======

“Ready? Hold on to my hand if you need to squeeze something.” Invited Elsa.

Honeymaren sulked. “But that will hurt you.”

“I don’t mind.”

She watched the healer come close to the bed after she poured some liquid on a cloth. The blonde gulped at the amount that she had put. Agat was the oldest Northuldra healer, but also the most ruthless. The leader wasn’t scared anyway. Or at least, she pretended not to.

At the light of the lanterns in the hut, Agat bent over the brunette and pressed the cloth on the wound of her hand. Honeymaren wanted to look, but at the second the liquid penetrated her skin, her eyes flew up to the ceiling, and she groaned loudly in pain. She however forced herself to not squeeze Elsa’s hand, and the blonde shook her head at how the moment was inappropriate to be her well-mannered self.

“Good, good. It’s done.” Said Agat.

She started bandaging Honeymaren’s hand as the latter breathed heavily. Elsa passed a hand in her dark hair, as to congratulate her for going through this. She placed the bangs aside and even tied it in a pretty braid so she could see the even prettier face of her lover completely.

They exchanged a smiling gaze, and Elsa took some steps back to let Agat to her work. While the healer took great care of Honeymaren, Elsa started to stare at her in anguish.

“I hate that.”

The leader frowned, puzzled.

“What?”

“Seeing you injured.”

Honeymaren observed her wife. Elsa now was standing near the bed and crossing her arms, slightly curled on herself, like she was folding in fear. The brunette knotted her eyebrows in a sad and worried expression.

“Hey. Snømus. I’m okay. It’s just a--”

Elsa gave her a look. Honeymaren gulped.

“Yeah, I was about to say ‘it’s just a scratch’, but you’re not gonna buy it, uh?”

Elsa’s eyes filled with sadness and worry again, and she curled up even more, avoiding to stare at her.

“But it’s being taken care of.” Assured Honeymaren, tilting her head to search for her gaze, a technique she got from Anna. “Also, you’re not the reason behind it. Uncross those arms, please.”

The blonde did a pout, and Honeymaren encouraged her with a smile. Eventually, Elsa’s muscles lost a bit of tension, and she relaxed a bit, standing up normally.

Honeymaren lifted the hand that wasn’t bandaged to put it in Elsa’s. “We’ll all be okay. You don’t have to worry about us.”

“You really shouldn’t move”, commented the healer when she saw her doing an effort.

Honeymaren frowned to her. “I’ll touch my wife if I damn want.”

Agat gulped and returned to her attentions, not daring to contradict the strong leader. Elsa’s lips stretched in an amused smile. When she saw that Honeymaren caught it, they softly giggled, and the blonde stepped forward to hug her. That way, she avoided her wife to make any movement, and the brunette felt like she was instantly healed at the scent of Elsa’s skin in her neck. Her hair also smelled divine. How come it smelled divine? Why did it smell so clean even though they all sweated like hell during the battle?

“That’s unfair.” Mumbled Honeymaren with a smile against her neck.

“What?” Asked Elsa as they parted.

“Nothing.” Grinned the brunette.

The Snow Queen then sighed. “It breaks my heart, but I’m gonna leave you for now. I’m gonna check the others’ state.”

“Alright.”

Elsa leaned down for a soft kiss, like she always did, but Honeymaren grabbed her ice fabric collar to bring her closer and kiss her deeper, like she always did as well. The kiss however was abnormally long and full of tenderness. Agat blushed as she forced herself to look elsewhere and pretended that the basin behind her was very interesting. When the two wives parted, and slightly gasped, Elsa looked into the two hazelnut irises with emotion.

“Honey, I…”

“Just go. We’ll talk about it later. We’ll have plenty of time.”

Elsa’s face went sad, and she gulped. “Okay.”

A thumb stroking her cheek as a warm hand cupped her face made her stir away from her thoughts. She smiled, and kissed Honeymaren’s palm.

“See you.”

“See you.” Smiled the brunette.

She watched her leave the hut, and when she did, both Elsa’s and Honeymaren’s smiles vanished.

No, healing from what had happened on the Dark Sea shore wouldn’t be easy.

Elsa fidgeted with her hands as she walked away from the hut, feeling bad about leaving her wife’s side for the first time since the event. Because she knew, even if Honeymaren didn’t talk about it yet, that she had thought for a moment that she died on the shore. She could almost feel the gaze of the brunette in her back, as it surely didn’t leave the door, still concerned and thinking about her even if she left the room.

The blonde took a long inhale, trying to change her mind. The closest hut had Kristoff and Ryder in it, and she smiled as she entered. Kristoff had been taken care of and he was asleep, knocked down after the strong medicinal herbs he had been given to cope with his head injury. She went to his bed and placed a hand on his shoulder, inspecting his face with sad eyes. He had a calm resting face, but Elsa was perpetually worried. Of all of those who had helped Elsa facing Victor, her brother-in-law had the worst wound. However, the healers attested that it wasn’t a lesion, and that he would be okay in a few hours. Turns out that he, indeed, had a think skull; it wasn’t just a manner of speaking. Elsa smiled at that fact, and turned to the same healers she has been talking to earlier, who now were taking care of Ryder. One of them lifted his head.

“Kristoff will be fine.” Smiled Nainnas, a botanist who was crushing herbs in a mortar for his fellow Northuldra, lying on the other bed with his pants off. “However, I need your help for Ryder.”

Elsa blinked. She knew very little about healing, and as her wife had underlined it for the past years, she very easily faltered and despaired when she saw injuries up close. The amount of times she fainted or nearly did when trying to assist the Northuldra healers every now and then was almost comical, but Honeymaren would never discourage her. The Snow Queen frowned with determination, and nodded anyway.

“Sure. What do you need?”

“It will take me a few minutes to prepare this concoction. But Ryder’s knee has swollen due to his injury.”

“What?? It has?!” Panicked the Northuldra, seating up on the bed with wide eyes to look at his knee.

“Stay down.” Groaned the other healer, keeping him down firmly, and Elsa smiled at his scold.

It clearly wasn’t the first time of the night Ryder was told to stop moving, and the blonde was amused to see the similar nervosity between the two Nattura siblings.

“As I was saying…” Sighed the botanist healer, “We need to seal off the injury before it gets too infected.”

Elsa gulped. ‘Oh, for Ahtohallan’s sake, please don’t make me sew the skin back together’, she thought, feeling blood leaving her face. She had purposely avoided to look at Ryder’s knee until now for this very reason.

“Do you want me to freeze it?” She asked, her voice slightly trembling, hoping this is what Nainnas needed her for.

“No, quite the opposite. We need fire. Heat is a very helpful way to scar over.”

Elsa took a long moment to understand what it had to do with her then. Her speciality was cold, not heat-- Oh.

Nainnas gave her an amused smile, but didn’t say anything. He knew that everyone still was in shock, and it might take a while to think.

“You want me to call the Fire Spirit.”

“Yes, please.” Smiled the man.

Elsa internally sighed of relief. She closed her eyes to search for Bruni’s soul, and she felt him several meters away in the camp. He was playing with some children to appease them now that the danger was gone, and helping them go to sleep as time now reached almost midnight. Elsa smiled at the little salamander’s kindness and care, and called him through a mind nudge.

Bruni jolted up, and beamed - quite literally - at the idea of joining her. The children laughed as he dashed through the camp in zigzags, and almost barged in the hut, his tiny belly waving as he breathed rapidly in excitement of helping Elsa.

When he saw her standing near one of the beds, he squealed and ran to her feet, where he rubbed and cuddled like a cat. He then climbed along her leg and jumped in her open hand. With happy grunts, he curled against her fresh skin, and exhaled a lot of joyful energy, which warmed Elsa’s heart in every way.

She smiled. “Yeah, I’m happy to see you too, buddy. Look, I called you for a specific reason.”

She kept him in her hand and turned to Ryder. “See that injury?” She pointed, talking with a voice similar to the one she used to talk to young children, and Kristoff would have made the remark if he were awake. “Could you burn Ryder’s skin, very softly, to help seal his wound?”

Bruni made an approving peep. Ryder didn’t really like the way she had stated that out loud, and gulped when he saw Elsa approach her arm with him in her palm. But at the sight of the salamander’s adorable eyes, he giggled.

“Okay, are you sure about this?” Asked Elsa.

Ryder nodded vividly.

“Are you ready?”

Another nod.

Elsa put down the salamander on his bare leg, and the tiny Spirit pawed his skin in an appeasing gesture.

He gave Ryder a sorry look, then it became a determined one as he looked down at the knee. He spat a long but soft burst of fire, his flame licking the skin of the injury.

The Northuldra screamed loudly then hissed, startling, but Bruni held firmly to his leg.

Elsa passed a hand along his arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, and he’s sorry as well. He is. But we have to do this.”

“I know…” He whined through gritted teeth.

Finally, the Fire Spirit was done sealing the wound, and it looked better already. While the healers took care of his leg and bandaged his knee, Bruni jumped back in Elsa’s offered hand, and climbed to her shoulder to observe the man too. Ryder’s eyelids soon felt heavy, a result of both the relief of pain, the soothing care of the Northuldra, and the tiring day. Even Bruni yawned, and Elsa found it adorable.

“You were amazing.” She whispered, too scared to wake up the two injured men now. “Thank you.”

The salamander squeaked happily, and curled to sleep on her shoulder, lulled by her natural cold.

Next, Elsa went to the neighboring hut, also used by healers. Eydis was sleeping on the first bed she saw, and she noticed that someone had untied the young blonde’s dutch braids so she could sleep better. The princess had a patch applying ointment on her skin where she had been touched by the dark magic, at the top of her shoulder.

Elsa smiled as she approached her niece, and bent to put a kiss in her hair. At the touch, the girl stirred, and Elsa jumped up and worried, thinking she shouldn’t have done that. However, Eydis smiled and turned slightly to fall back to sleep. The Snow Queen had been standing still with her mouth pressed in a thin line, not daring to breathe to make sure she didn’t wake her up. She exhaled discreetly.

“You’re ridiculous.” Came a smiling voice on her right.

Anna was looking at her from the bed she was laying on, wearing the same infirm tunic than her daughter. She had asked that Eydis and her would be healed in the same hut, so she could keep an eye on her daughter while she slept.

“And you look very epic with that bandage.” Replied the Snow Queen.

Anna grinned proudly, looking at her battle injury in her elbow pit. “Thanks.”

She then stared at her sister meaningfully. “You’re complimenting me to hide your worry about my health, aren’t you?”

Elsa sighed as she walked to Anna’s bed. “You read in me like an open book.”

“What can I say?” Smirked the redhead with a shrug. “Kristoff doesn’t call me book lover for nothing.”

There was a silence. Elsa seemed bothered by the topic, and therefore Anna decided to talk about something else.

“Did you know that the elbow pit also is called antecubital fossa? Awesome, uh? Remind me to add it as a word for charades night.”

It managed to bring a smile to Elsa’s lips. “I forbid you to do that. Besides, now that Eydis is playing with us, it will be impossible to guess.”

“The joke’s on you, she is the one who taught me that earlier.”

Elsa blinked. They turned to the princess, who was sleeping peacefully. When she turned back to Anna, she was beaming with maternal pride.

“She’s a real genius.”

“And she fought really well.” Added Elsa. “See? I told you we wouldn’t regret to bring her along.”

The Queen rolled her eyes. “It shows that you’re not the one who raises her. Do you have any idea how many times she scared the hell out of me doing dangerous stuff?”

“Well, just like her mother does with me.” Grinned Elsa.

She sat on the bed to wrap her arms around her sister. “I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

The Queen melted in the hug, closing her eyes with a soft sigh. She was just upset that she could hug her with only one arm.

Anna felt something warm against her neck when Elsa was against her, and smiled when she recognized the familiar sensation of scales. She parted the hug with a chuckle.

“Hey there little guy.”

Bruni blinked tired eyes open, and yawned, then grinned happily when the redhead scratched his head. He however went back to sleep afterwards, and Anna observed him tenderly.

“Long day, uh? Being a Spirit doesn’t prevent from tiredness.” She said, pointedly, staring at Elsa.

“You’re right.” Said the Snow Queen, and she gently took Bruni off her shoulder, then put him on a fresh spot on a shelf, so he could be comfortable in his sleep. He mumbled a happy squeal.

“You did well”, chuckled Anna. “Having a salamander on your neck while you sleep isn’t the best option.”

Elsa frowned in confusion at her sentence, but also at the gesture she just made, moving aside on the bed as if she was giving her space to lay down.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s adorable, but he would have bothered you, no? Isn’t it why you put him aside before going to bed?”

“I’m not going to bed.”

Anna’s eyes widened.

“Wait, what?!”

“I just put him aside because he was tired. You were right, being a Spirit doesn’t prevent from tiredness. Gale and him did a really good job, guarding the camp for so long. He deserves some sleep.”

The redhead looked at her in utter bewilderment. “And don’t you think that you deserve sleep too??”

“What do you mean?” Frowned Elsa.

“WHAT DO I--” She scolded, angry, but immediately lowered her tone to not awaken her daughter. “Elsa, for the love of gods, do you hear yourself? You need to go to sleep too. It’s late, we’re all tired… Come lay down, you dummy, I don’t even know why I’m explaining this to you right now.”

She lifted her hand to grab Elsa’s arm, but the elder stepped back to avoid it.

“I’m fine.”

“What the hell are you doing? Come here, you infinite dork--”

The blonde stepped back again when she tried to reach her, and Anna was too tired and wounded to stand up from the bed.

“I wouldn’t be able to find sleep anyway.” Said Elsa. “You all got injured somewhere, and I didn’t get anything… I feel very bad about it.”

Anna groaned. “Oh my goodness, Elsa, that’s--”

Someone knocked at the hut, and they stopped talking to turn to the entrance with a synchronized blink.

“Come in.” Invited Anna.

To their surprise, Honeymaren entered, and she closed the door behind her. The brunette saw Eydis sleep and she smiled.

“I just wanted to say goodnight to Elsa.” She said, keeping her voice down to not wake her up.

Anna snorted in a puff. “Oh, well, good luck with that, because that idiot refuses to sleep.”

The blonde twirled to her younger, and gave her a deathly stare.

“What??” Said Honeymaren, walking to them.

Her wife sighed longly, and that sounded more like a grunt that anything else. However, in opposite to Anna, Honeymaren didn’t get angry, and placed her hands gently on Elsa’s arms, looking at her with soft caring eyes.

“Love, you should get some rest. You’ve been through an exhausting process.”

“You two as well.” Retorted Elsa. “And you know I won’t go to sleep as long as you don’t rest first.”

Anna snorted. “And we know that you won’t go to sleep at all if we do that.”

Elsa pouted. She had been busted.

Honeymaren kept her hands on her wife’s arms, and smiled tenderly to her. “You have to rest, now.”

“I’ve been resting long enough when I was unconscious.”

Anna and Honeymaren snapped wide eyes.

“You can’t be serious!!” Exclaimed her sister.

If she physically could, she would have accentuated it with a movement of the arms.

Honeymaren sighed. “Look, it’s past midnight. We’ve had a very overwhelming day.”

“Yes, which is why you two have to go to sleep.”

“You need it as much as we do.” Insisted the brunette.

“No I don’t. You’re injured, and I’m not.”

The Queen scoffed. “You almost died!!”

Elsa didn’t react, so Anna massaged the top of her nose with an upset grumble. Honeymaren looked at them two with a sad smile.

“We can’t change her mind, Anna.” She stated. “You and I both know how stubborn she is.”

Anna sighed heavily, and laid down the bed. When she saw the space that remained, the leader approached timidly. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Invited Anna.

“That way, Elsa will be able to keep an eye on us both. Happy?” Smirked Honeymaren as she went under the pelts next to Anna, making sure not to hurt her or herself while she did.

Elsa nodded quietly with a soft smile.

It didn’t take long for the two women to fall asleep, they were truly exhausted.

When Anna started snoring and Honeymaren was so deep into slumber that she had that adorable face that Elsa loved, the blonde sat down on a stool and observed them.

However, as they sadly expected it, Elsa didn’t rest at all for the whole night. She spent the next hours wandering back and forth between each hut to check on the wounded, and talking with the Northuldra in charge of standing guard.

=======

After spending the day waiting for Arendellian forces to arrive, the Sun started to set over the Forest.

Victor limped as the soldiers led him to the prisoner cage they had put on a wagon. He was still injured at the foot, a pride that made Ryder and Eydis exchange a smirking gaze when he passed by them.

Honeymaren went to the center of the Northuldra camp to talk to her tribe.

“The danger we had been living in for the past days is no more.” She announced, her voice strong and powerful. Elsa admired her from where she was, laying against a tree.

“The enemy has been defeated. The battle is over. We won. Each of you had been of precious help, and I would like to thank the Spirits as well. Thank you all. I will go to Arendelle to attend Victor’s trial, as the representative of the Northuldra. He will face justice and pay for his crimes, I vow to it.”

Several Sami cheered, and others clapped.

“Now, may you all find peace until I return. I leave my brother in charge.”

Ryder blinked. “Wh-what??”

Anna was surprised to see he hadn’t been warned in advance. When Honeymaren walked to the little group ready to go, he went to his elder sister. “Are you sure about this? I’m injured at the knee, I can’t really be of much help...”

“I’m sure. And you will be a great leader anyway, Ryder, don’t you worry about it. Besides, since when does an injury prevent you from herding?”

Ryder blinked, and the others were confused too. “Are you saying that managing a tribe is the same thing that taking care of a reindeer herd?”

Honeymaren smirked as she put a hand on his shoulder. “Now that we’re all safe, the whole tribe will celebrate with a big feast and a ceremony. In that situation, it is exactly like keeping an eye on a herd.”

They laughed, and she nudged him before leaving to join Anna and Elsa.

“Take care.” He said to Kristoff.

“We will keep you informed.” Smiled the King.

Eydis waved goodbye to him happily, and they all walked away to the wagons, surrounded by Arendelle guards.

Anna walked with her sister and Honeymaren on each side, distracted by the visual of their shadows moving in front of them on the flowery ground. They were long and stretched by the lowering light of the sunset that warmed the back of their necks.

“What a week, uh?” She joked.

Honeymaren nudged her shoulder against hers. “That’s for sure.”

They chuckled together, and the brunette felt Elsa’s shoulder against her. She thought that she was nudging her as well, but in fact, Elsa was losing her balance.

Anna saw her shadow swaying on the side, and both turned to the blonde, whose eyes weren’t really focusing anymore.

“And you had quite a week indeed.” Smirked Honeymaren. “Let me hold you.”

“I can walk.” Mumbled Elsa.

Anna and Honeymaren exchanged a smile. Not only that was a sentence they now knew meant exactly the opposite, but Elsa’s voice had just betrayed her. She even was rubbing her eyes. It reminded Anna of her son when he refused to want to go to bed.

“Hmm, I don’t believe the ‘I swear I’m fine’ speeches anymore.” Said Honeymaren. “I’m gonna carry you to the wagon.”

“Honey, this won’t be necessa-AH!!” Suddenly yelped the blonde, as her whole body had suddenly been taken off the ground.

Anna laughed as Honeymaren easily swift her off her feet and put her on her shoulder. The brunette giggled as Elsa struggled to break free from her strong hold, and they walked to the wagon where Kristoff and Eydis awaited.

The man and his daughter laughed at their arrival.

“I didn’t know we had to deliver a sack of potatoes.” Teased Kristoff.

“I hate you…” Groaned Elsa weakly, upside down, in Honeymaren’s back. “All of you.”

Anna faked an offended gasp. They all boarded in laughter, and the Northuldra leader softly placed her wife on one of the benches, next to Anna.

“Maren, there is no need to be mollycoddling me.” Grumbled Elsa in her tired voice.

“Holy-molly-what?” Said the woman.

“Yep, she’s delirious when she’s tired.” Added Anna, shaking her head.

“I’m not! You two are constantly taking too much care of me.”

Anna passed her arm above the edge of the wagon and leaned on it to look at her amusedly. “And did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, you deserve that care?”

Elsa mumbled again, this time inaudibly.

Anna nudged Honeymaren. “Perhaps we holly molly her too much.”

The brunette cackled, and nudged her back.

“You two have bandages on the arm, you shouldn’t be doing that.” Frowned Elsa.

“Oh my gosh, she is right!” Exclaimed Anna, and the others could hear that she was being sarcastic. “Do you know what it means, Maren?”

“What?” Smirked the brunette.

“We’re bandages twins! Bandages buddies! Budd-ages!”

Honeymaren laughed loudly.

“I really hate you.” Mumbled Elsa.

It was an obvious lie, especially since her wife’s laugh, echoing in the woods to her ears, had made her heart feel like it was floating above the clouds. She smiled softly as the wagons departed.

=======

They had snacks aboard the wagon, and Honeymaren noticed that Kristoff and Elsa passed each other some bread without even consulting each other, in a simple stare. She had noticed this before on a Friday night.

“You two make quite a team.” Grinned the brunette, pointing at them. “Are you sure you didn’t meet before Anna introduced you? Your alchemy during game nights is unfair.”

“I know.” Sighed Anna dramatically. “When we pick the teams randomly and they are together, I always feel like it’s doomed.”

“Not always.” Chuckled Kristoff. “We’re really not good at classic charades. Drawings, however…”

“Yeah, no wonder why you guess them so easily, though.” Sighed Anna. “Have you seen the amount of details Elsa puts in her drawings?! Who the hell takes the time to do perspective and shadows?!”

“And how come you can’t get points when you’re teaming up with her?” Asked Eydis, because her argument was weird.

“I’m too busy admiring them to actually guess.” Mumbled Anna.

They laughed.

“To be fair, our team is only good in family games nights because we balance each other’s skills. That’s all.” Shrugged Elsa.

“The legendary ice bros.” Smirked Anna. “I’m proud of that nickname.”

“I like it.” Complimented Honeymaren. “And I’m sure it will stick.”

“It sure will.” Grinned Kristoff. “Just like ice.”

He laughed, and Elsa as well, then they fist bumped right in front of Anna.

“Oh my gods, you didn’t…”

“We totally did.” Grinned Elsa.

The redhead sighed. “That’s like, the hundredth ice pun this month.”

“And not the last.” Giggled Kristoff.

“I swear, Maren, they’re unbearable. Now you understand why I named them that.”

“Oh, three puns a week is nothing compared to the jokes this dork does each and every-- ouch!”

They laughed when Elsa tapped her arm.

“I like those puns.” Smiled Eydis.

“No, not my niece too!” Whined Honeymaren, and the princess giggled. “I swear, her plays on words could make people run away. Oh, we should have used that as a technique against the monsters!” She falsely exclaimed.

Anna laughed out loud.

“Do you want me to make it hail on you two?” Smirked Elsa.

She then remembered the fight. “By the way, Anna, for a moment there, I thought you were counting down the number of creatures you took down.”

The redhead shrugged, not actually denying that accusation. “Doubting of my stamina?”

“Certainly not. I recall you were having some fun while you fought.” Smirked Elsa.

“I’ve often heard the Queen saying that everything is a competition.” Said Honeymaren.

“And it is!” Proclaimed Anna, stubborn.

Elsa rolled her eyes. “No matter what, I’m proud of you.”

“No matter the score?”

“No, I meant that I’m proud of you all.”

“Hmm… That sounds like someone who slayed the least monsters.”

Some gasped and some laughed, and they continued to argue about that topic playfully. The sister cuddled in a shared laughter. The discussions went about different things on the road, until Anna felt that Elsa’s cuddle had gone heavier. She turned, noticing that her sister had been silent since a moment. The blonde’s eyes were closed. Her head had tilted to her shoulder, and she had just fallen asleep. Anna smiled tenderly.

“She hasn’t slept at wink all night, uh?” Guessed Kristoff, staring at her with a smile.

The other nodded. The Northuldra melted at the sight, then unrolled a blanket from the wagon to put it on her wife’s relaxed body.

“Sleep well, you ethereal selfless dork.”

=======

When Elsa woke up, she was blessed by the sight, feeling and presence of Anna sleeping in front of her, and Honeymaren’s arm going around her waist while she was spooning her from behind. The Snow Queen sighed of content. Now that was the best way to wake up ever, surrounded by the two people she cared about the most.

Apparently, they had put Elsa in bed when they arrived in Arendelle on the following afternoon, and ended up taking a nap along with her. With a happy quiet squeal, she rounded her back to cuddle closer to Honeymaren, placing her arm above hers, and looked at her sister.

“What would I be without you two.” She whispered.

She then felt Honeymaren stir, and turned around to her.

“Hey.” She greeted when she saw the brunette blink.

She smiled when she saw Elsa and started to stretch, though still remaining laid down.

“Hey you.”

Honeymaren was delighted to wake up in front of her wife, especially when her two azure blue eyes were staring at her this lovingly.

“Did you sleep well?” Asked Elsa with a tender smile.

“I should return the question to you. You were a real sloth yesterday when I took you out of the wagon and to this bed.”

“I was deep into slumber for this long?”

Honeymaren grinned and nodded on her pillow.

“Since when do you know about sloths?” Chuckled the blonde.

“With a sister like yours?? It’s impossible not to have heard a thousand praises about sloths when one knows her. Anna constantly talks about how much she loves them.”

They laughed, but it was softly to not wake the redhead up, as she was sleeping right next to them. In fact, they had been talking in whispers, making sure to not disturb her sleep.

Elsa turned to watch Anna. She wasn’t graceful at all between her tangled hair, her absurd posture and her open drooling mouth, yet the elder’s face lit up with happiness.

“I’m glad to see she’s okay.” Sighed Elsa, seeing that her bandage wasn’t red with blood, even though it was dated from the previous evening.

Northuldra’s medicine and care was efficient, and the Snow Queen was thankful.

“How’s your hand?” Inquired Elsa, turning to her wife again, her natural concern not leaving her.

Honeymaren smiled to that trait. “I’m fine. Better.” She could even wave her fingers a bit, and she showed it. “There’s one sad thing about this wound, though.”

Elsa’s heartbeat got faster. “What is it?” She worried.

The brunette grinned. “I want to kiss you deeply, but I only have one hand to cup your face.”

She moved closer, and closed her eyes as she softly held Elsa’s cheek to land her lips on hers.

Elsa’s heatbeat got even faster, but for a different reason; a blush filled her cheeks, and she felt flustered. The kiss was long and intense, and she closed her eyes too. Damn, that touch meant so many words. So many emotions. She could feel how much they had to talk about. How the event on the shore still marked Honeymaren. The kiss was warm with joy to finally be reunited, yet it was frigid with all the sadness still present in the brunette’s heart.

That didn’t take away any of the passion in the kiss, and soon Elsa returned it with equal force. She moaned on her lips, leaned her body in and grasped Honeymaren’s long thick hair.

“Holy Odin, what time is it?!” Shrieked Anna suddenly, and she jolted upright behind Elsa. The latter almost had a cardiac arrest at the sudden shout, and she startled away from the kiss.

Apparently, Anna had been waking up without them noticing, then immediately realized by the light bathing the room that the afternoon already was well under way. Honeymaren laughed out loud when she saw Elsa switch from tenderness to letdown, then laughed again when she saw Anna jump up, stumble and fall to the floor a few meters after the bed.

“I’m fine!” She yelped, standing up swiftly. “I need to go at once. I have a meeting with the staff at 5, then I have to meet Mattias at 6, and the warden for Victor’s cell in the prison, and, oh my goodness I’m so super late… I’ll see you later bye!!”

She left the room in a storm, rushing to her dressing room, yet she gently closed the door behind her. Now that the old bedroom of their parents had been turned into the guest bedroom that Elsa could use when she visited, Anna took extra care of its state.

The Snow Queen blinked confusedly at Anna’s sudden and loud exit, staring at where she left, then she laid back down next to the Northuldra leader, her head elbowed on the pillow.

“So, where were w-- Wait, I smell really bad!” Suddenly noticed Elsa, now that her nose was near her skin. “How the hell can you kiss me in those conditions?! Gosh, I haven’t washed in days!” She exclaimed, shocked and also alarmed to see that Honeymaren wasn’t saying anything.

The brunette puffed. “You always smell like licorice mint, love. What are you talking about?”

Elsa grabbed her pillow and threw it to her. “Stop it! You incorrigible flirt.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Whatever. I’m going to the bathroom. I’m feeling like I need to shower.”

Honeymaren rolled her eyes as her wife quickly stood up from the bed, and urged to go to the other door of the room, that led to a private bathroom. Less than a minute later, water was flowing, and could be heard from the bed. Honeymaren sighed. Now the sheets felt really empty.

She shrugged; at least now she could spread her legs and arms all she want. One thing she noticed and always struck her was how, even if she had a starfish posture and stretched all she could, she didn’t reach the ends of the bed. How big were those Arendellian beds? That was crazy.

Yet, she couldn’t tell if she preferred the overlarged bed of the castle or the smaller one in their hut. Both were great for cuddles, in their own unique ways…

She rolled above the sheets for a moment, listening to the sound of water pouring in the next room behind the wooden door, then she stood up and walked around.

Honeymaren blinked at the sensation coming to her as she did. It had been a while since she last visited Arendelle, even more sleeping there, so she had to get used to it again. Elsa was right when she said that the brunette hadn’t come in a long time; she was so busy with Northuldra leader duties that she only hoped in some Fridays for family game nights, and never stayed much longer. Now, it was like she discovered it all for the first time.

The castle’s interior truly drove all of her five senses crazy. How come everything, absolutely everything, smelled so nice? Did they wash the chairs with lavender?? For the sheets, towels and even curtains to be perfumed, that, she could understand. But why, and how, can a pedestal table released such a fragrance?? And it wasn’t due to the flower bouquet that was placed on it and changed with fresh flowers every day, she could tell.

And yet, all of this was only smell. Sight, hearing, touch and even taste were going through a whole experience as well. She felt the light bathing the room, giving the place a surreal atmosphere with its dust floating in the warmth of air, that she could sense on her cheeks, where she could also sense the humidity of the fjord that was passing through the open window. She felt the distant sounds of merchants from the Arendelle village mixed with the distant sounds of sailors loading and unloading their ships or chatting joyfully with their peers. All of this was overwhelming, and Honeymaren could perceive on top of everything the delicious smell of kransekake getting baked downstairs in the kitchens, invading her palate in the best way and almost making her drool.

Honeymaren blinked in utter astonishment, and shook her head. She apparently had been daydreaming for a long time, because the bathroom door opened behind her, and she talked to her wife without looking at her, busy inspecting the breathtaking details of the painting frame on the wall.

“Elsa, I never got to ask you, and sorry for being so blunt, but… How in Spirits’ names did you live like this?”

She turned around to get the answer from her lover, when she got struck by a sight that propelled all of her previous emotions away in a flick. Elsa appeared like she was walking right back from the heavens.

The blonde was drying her hair with an embroidered bath towel. Its bright white cotton and purple and green motives seemed to glow as she rubbed her bangs with it in the daylight. Elsa’s neck and cleavage still were a bit wet, water drops rolling down along her body, stopping to another towel that was tied around her chest and pouring until her ankles.

Honeymaren stared at her with wide eyes, her hazelnut irises inspecting every single inch of perfection that was offered to her in this moment. Somehow, a flash of the very first moment she had talked to Elsa came to her mind, seeing her younger face next to a campfire. A confident, strong woman, who exhaled a goddess aura, but who also showed traits of a vulnerable and quiet character; giving Honeymaren the immediate feeling of Elsa being the most balanced person she had ever seen. The first minute the blonde had started talking, she showed both great intelligence by her words and eloquence, and genuine curiosity and naivety with her questions and interest for the Northuldra culture. And in that very moment, Honeymaren swore to herself that she would always protect her no matter what, just like she knew that Elsa would surprise her countless times.

The brunette realized that she hadn’t been breathing since she turned around, and gulped to avoid choking on her own saliva.

What was she saying again? She lost track of her own thoughts - and even the possible existence of her brain - when she saw Elsa approach. The blonde looked like the most attractive divinity with shining white-gold hair and a single towel on her body that seemed like a toga. With her seductive walk and slightly swaying hips, Elsa seemed to have come down from above and beyong to judge her sins.

Honeymaren blinked, and her mind returned to its previous state. Soon the smells, noises and all the rest came to her senses again, putting her back in the uneasy feeling. The Snow Queen noticed it when she was close enough to see her face.

“What is troubling you?” She asked in a soft voice, her eyebrows knotting with worry at the discomfort of her wife.

“This castle… It’s overwhelming, with all its features. I can’t believe you used to live here for so many years. How did you not go crazy with everything? It’s all so… Overly perfect.”

The blonde has a chuckle. “Well, it helped as a distraction from my powers when I was younger.”

She shrugged, and she did it so exaggeratedly that her towel shifted with the move. Honeymaren’s eyes snapped wide and she rushed to go forward and grab the top of it, above Elsa’s breasts.

The blonde startled. “Uhm…? What are you doing?”

Honeymaren’s lips pressed in a thin line. “I don’t…”

She was about to say ‘I don’t think I can survive seeing you naked by accident right now after all the emotions that went through my body and mind, because such a final sight could easily kill me’, but she settled for a simpler explanation.

“I worried that your towel would fall”, she mumbled, her cheeks burning with blush as she put her hands away.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s fine. We have pins in the bathrooms that are here for this purpose.”

She showed where the pin was, firmly tying the towel around her chest, but Honeymaren preferred not to look lower than her neck. She nervously looked away, and pretended to smooth her beige tunic.

“Honey, are you okay?”

“Uh?”

When their eyes finally met, Elsa was grinning openly. “You seem… Distracted.”

“I’m good.” Gulped Honeymaren. “Really good. A bit hungry. Are you hungry? I’m hungry. It’s hungry. It’s a snack. Like, it smells like… It’s nice… Snack. I…” She sighed, both to take her breath and because she was aware that her ramble was filled with slips. She tried to focus and talk normally. “Can you smell that delicious baking? We should go down for a snack.”

Elsa smirked but bit her lip to force herself not to comment on the behavior of her wife.

“Sure. I’ll just change first, and then we can go.”

“Change?”

She was surprised to see Elsa grab an actual dress and go behind the screen. It had been set there on a hanger, and Honeymaren thought until now that it was Anna’s, because it was deep red.

“I’m not gonna use ice. Anna ordered this dress for me last month.” Elsa explained, her voice masked by the panel. “She talked about it a hundred times in her letters. I want to make her happy and try it out today.”

The brunette heard her fumble behind the changing screen. “Ahtohallan, why does this have so many ribbons?” She muttered. “Ah, there. I have to get used to loops again. I feel like a child trying to remember how to tie shoelaces. There.”

She turned around the screen.

Honeymaren was so wrong to think that a naked Elsa would have been the reason of her death that day. She hadn’t seen her wife wearing actual fabric in a long while - which she really didn’t mind at all - and when Elsa walked to her, all her mental connections ceased to function.

Above it all, she was astonished to see that cherry red suited her so well, and judging by Elsa’s unsure expression, it was the very first time she was wearing such a color. The dress had a simple corset base, but a lot of beautiful enhancements had been added. First, it had many ribbons that fell and looped and seemed to float here and there. Second, it was elegantly cut at the hips, which enticed Honeymaren to no end. In Elsa’s typical style, it was was floor-length, though the brunette’s eyes stopped at the hands of her lover when she saw that she had joined them nervously in her center, keeping a regal posture.

Elsa really shouldn’t feel any hesitation about this dress; she looked utterly stunning. She turned around so her wife could judge the back as well. Honeymaren gasped silently when she saw that the dress was a bit open in the back, from the middle to the kidneys, revealing her silky skin.

Elsa finished turning, and looked at Honeymaren timidly.

“How does it look? Does it fit me?”

The leader blinked. Of course Anna knew Elsa’s measurements perfectly. Of course she did. Now that was just unfair. Honeymaren however felt like all of her word lexicon had just been tossed by the window. She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

The Snow Queen giggled. “A bit slow after naptime, uh?”

Honeymaren frowned. That insult brought her right back on Earth. “No. I’m not. It’s just… YOU!” She suddenly exclaimed, pointing at Elsa with both arms.

The blonde grinned bashfully. “Don’t say anything then. I got it from your expression.”

=======

At the end of the afternoon, Elsa walked around the castle, searching for her younger sister. It was raining heavily outside, so she knew that it’s not where she would find her. Even if rain wasn’t an obstacle to fun when she was younger, and Elsa often found Anna running in the puddles in the courtyard, the Queen now preferred to listen to the sound of raindrops from indoors.

When the blonde saw that Anna was neither in her study nor the kitchens, she had a thinking pout as she listed the remaining places.

“The library.” She suddenly said out loud with a grin.

But her smile vanished away. Anna went to the library alone only when something was wrong.

She went to knock to the door, and a distant voice invited her in. Elsa was happy to see the redhead sitting by the window, but she closed the door behind her.

The room was a bit dark, for the Sun was hiding behind the clouds and the sky a strong grey. Anna was sitting in the alcove and looking outside. The floating dust of the room, which normally matched really well with the color of her hair and the clothes she wore, made the atmosphere gloomy and sad.

“Are you alright?”

Anna turned and forced herself to smile, which Elsa cleverly noticed. “Yeah, why?”

It would have been blunt to say ‘You’re obviously lying’, so the elder simply approached, joining her hands in front of her. She wasn’t sure if Anna was in the mood for touch, so she only smiled.

“You know, we didn’t really get the time to talk about it.”

The redhead gave her a quizzing frown.

“About what happened on the Dark Sea shore. What you felt when I passed out, and… To put it in your words, when I almost died.”

Anna gulped audibly. But, in opposite to her elder, when a question was making her emotional, she didn’t look down or away; she kept her eye contact with Elsa, but with an bigger weight to it.

“It… Felt terrible. I was terrorised.”

Her voice was weak and cracked. That visibly was what she had been thinking about before she arrived. Elsa’s face twisted in a sad and sorry expression. “I know. I mean, I imagine. I can’t know, but I…”

She gulped, in lack of speech. Her younger looked at her silently, and Elsa felt her throat tightened.

“I can’t know. Excuse me for bringing the topic, I shouldn’t have--”

“No, Elsa, it’s fine.” Smiled the redhead. “Well, it certainly wasn’t, but I’m glad that you want to talk about it.”

The Snow Queen realized that Anna’s smile now was sincere. It was like all she needed had been for Elsa to mention it.

“I’m happy to see that you are not afraid to ask me.”

Elsa’s expression melted. It’s true, she had changed. A few years ago only, she wouldn’t have dared to open such a discussion, especially about death. It took them ages to finally sit down and talk about their parents.

She had a soft smile, and walked further to sit and cuddle with her next to the window. “Of course I want to talk about it. I want to know how you feel.”

She then briskly moved away. “Sorry, maybe you need some space.”

Anna grinned and grabbed her wrist. “Come back here, silly. Of course I want you to stay close.”

They smiled and sat against each other, watching the rain drops fall along the window. It reminded Elsa of the times when they would have rain drops races, and she caressed the glass with her fingers.

A silence passed.

“I already addressed the topic with Honeymaren earlier. Can we talk about it, please?”

Anna put her head on Elsa’s shoulder.

“Only if you promise me one thing.”

“Sure, what it is?”

“That you won’t judge me if I start crying while I talk about how I felt.”

Elsa missed a heartbeat at that sentence. She gulped, and held her sister tighter.

“Of course I won’t judge you.”

“Good.” Said Anna’s voice, and it was firm and strong. “Because it’s important that you realize I saw you faint and not respond to my calls two times in one day.”

The blonde felt like she got punched right in the guts at the highlight of Anna’s point of view on her behavior. She detached from the cuddle to look at her sister. “Anna, I…”

“You what? You’re sorry?” Finished the redhead, not detaching her eyes from the window.

Elsa’s eyes sparkled with sad tears. “Yes. A thousand times. And I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like for you.”

“Yet it wasn’t your fault.”

“Excuse me?”

“Okay, going to Ahtohallan and go through those repressed memories was a really dumb decision of yours, especially when you stubborn ass decided to go on your own with no backup. But the fact that the previous Fifth Spirit had this many hidden memories? Not your fault. You couldn’t have predicted it, and that’s why it was this much to take for your body and magic. And, speaking of magic, that’s why it also wasn’t your fault about what happened on the shore. None of us expected that, once your magic is taken away, you risk hypothermia. Well, to be fair…” She added, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, “This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t that extra and didn’t craft a perfect armor. But I’ll never criticize you on that, quite the opposite. And of course, the magic extraction was not your fault. You did all you could to prevent it. In fact, it’s with your argumentation that Victor changed his mind and came back on his acts. So, I should actually be thanking you.”

Elsa startled of disbelief. Her younger now was grinning, which contrasted with the expression she had at the beginning of the conversation.

‘Thanking me??’ She thought, stunned.

“No, wait, this is not going the direction I wanted it to go…”

Anna smirked. “Why? What were you expecting?”

Elsa was now pouting. “You’re not supposed to defend me! You’re supposed to scold me! Tell me I was wrong, doing all that! Tell me how hurt you are! You… You’re not supposed to be your… Open-minded and gentle and caring self!!”

The Queen grinned. “So, from what you’re saying, I shouldn’t be myself?”

Elsa blushed out of frustration. “I didn’t want-- I mean, of course I love it when you’re like that, but-- I didn’t want you to be… So nice! I had meant to console you, to soothe you, not…!”

She was at loss for words now, and sighed. In fact, tears had started filling her eyes, and Anna tilted her head in sadness.

“Aw, you tiny thing. You really thought I was going to blame you, uh?”

The blonde shivered as she inhaled, trying her best not to ironically be the only one to cry. “I thought you were going to be angry at me, to be sad, to… Damn, Anna.”

The latter chuckled at how overtaken Elsa was. She put a hand on her shoulder. “Need I remind you that I’m the mother of two children? I’ve been through an infinite number of discussions like those. To balance things out has become a second nature to me.” Smiled the Queen.

Elsa blinked longly, and her tears got chased away. Anna continued.

“My mind is still filled with sadness, and my heart is still heaving with sorrow. Yes. I can’t deny it. But I never felt any resentment towards you, silly.”

The elder looked at her like she was a living miracle, and had a heavy sigh. “I owe you so much, Anna, I swear on Ahtohallan.”

The redhead playfully shrugged. “Meh.”

Elsa chuckled, and bent to kiss her sister’s forehead. Anna smiled tenderly at the sensation, closing her eyes.

When she opened them, Elsa was looking at her with a grin. “Can I ask you something? Something that may change your mood?”

Anna saw where this was leading, and chuckled. “The answer is yes. You want to ask me if I want to build a snowman, right?”

Elsa suddenly widened her eyes. “OH MY GODS.”

Anna frowned. “What, you’re genuinely surprised that I found out? That’s really easy--”

“No, I mean, Olaf!! I just thought about Olaf!!”

Now Anna blinked, lost. “...And?”

Elsa suddenly stood up, standing away from the alcove, and she started pacing around, her hand passing through her hair. That was an alarming mannerism, and Anna’s eyes widened. Elsa couldn't believe she only realized that fact now.

“I have to check on Olaf! To make sure that he didn’t melt when I lost my magic! Oh, who am I kidding? He surely melted. Oh gods…”

“No, wait, Elsa…”

The Queen was about to reassure her in saying that her magic didn’t go away during the transfert, just like her weapons additions and clothes didn’t disappear. Olaf was certainly safe. But it was too late; Elsa was frowning in that specific way when she mentally conjured her magical creatures.

In a little gust of snow, Olaf appeared right in the middle of the library, in between them, falling from mid-air on his butt. He bumped on the floor in a mix of yelps and tinkling metal, his backpack bouncing with him. His tiny pan, that hanged to a fastening, tinkled against the floor as he finished his roll face down in a flat stop.

“Ouch.” Winced Anna, her outstretched arms closing in fists.

“OUCH!!” Exclaimed Olaf, standing up and rubbing his head, placing his carrot nose back. “Waow! What the heck just happened?!”

He looked around, first recognized the Arendelle castle library, went ‘hey!’, then saw Anna and went ‘hey!’, then saw Elsa and went ‘HEY!!’

The last exclamation was filled with anger.

“Olaf!” Smiled Elsa, sighing in relief. “I’m so happy to see that you’re okay…”

“Why did you teleport me?!” Shouted Olaf.

The two women startled at his reaction.

“I was right into an important exploration! And I had just found the perfect camping spot for tonight! AGGHH!”

He let out a long and upset whine, and picked up his fishing hat from the floor to put it back on his head.

Elsa was confused, but above all, sorry.

“Olaf, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I… Look, I can bring you back exactly where you were at. Do you have the location?”

The living snowman stared at her like she was totally dumb. “No, I don’t, that’s the whole purpose of exploration! I went at a place where no one thought of tracing a road, I only know that it’s down West!”

Elsa blabbered as she confused herself in apologies. At the corner of her eye, she saw that the Queen was gripping her mouth not to burst into laughter.

“WHY did you teleport me?!”

“I’m so sorry, Olaf, I just wanted to know if… If you were okay, and…”

He saw the weather through the window behind Anna, and let out a long grunt. “Ahhhhhhgh, and it’s RAINING here? It will take me forever to go back to that place!!”

Anna grinned behind her hand. “Yeah, it’s a good thing you have this fishing hat to protect you from the rain. Where did you get it anyway?”

“That’s a long story. And it includes poker techniques I’m legally not allowed to disclose yet.”

Elsa was set aback. “Excuse me?”

“Elsa!” He exclaimed with a grunt, pointing at the blonde with one of his twigs, turning completely to her, so Anna took it as an opportunity to laugh even more. “You shouldn’t have done that!! I’m a grown-up now!! I’m independent!! I can live my own life!!”

The Snow Queen was overtaken by the situation. “I…”

“Awww, look at who’s rebelling against his mother.” Cackled Anna.

“I’m not his mother!” Blushed Elsa.

“I’m not her son!” Blurted Olaf.

Now Anna laughed even more. She had to hold herself to the edge of the alcove not to fall.

Olaf and Elsa argued for a long time until, in a huff, the snowman picked up his stuff, set his backpack, and walked past her to open the door and go outside.

“I got a lot of walk to do now. Bye.”

He slammed the door, and could be heard mumbling as he went down the stairs in a sound of metal tinkles.

Anna wiped her tears as she stood up, still wheezing. Elsa was still standing up in front of her, and was stunned.

“Now you know how I feel with Eydis.” Grinned the Queen.

=======

“You think I didn’t hear when you called me ‘tiny thing’?” Smirked Elsa. “I’m two years and a half older than you!”

Anna laughed in the corridors, and her laughter echoed against the walls. “I couldn’t help it. Did Maren ever say something about that adorable pout you make when you’re upset?”

The Snow Queen sighed. “About a hundred times, yes.”

“There.” Winked Anna.

Her expression then changed as they were walking.

“How did it go, with her?” She asked timidly. “The conversation about that time we all thought… You know.”

Elsa had a sad smile. “Just like she understands me like no other does, I know her like nobody else, so it was easy to start talking about that topic after our snack. But that doesn’t change how hard it was to address her feelings, and how the whole moment traumatized her.”

Anna gulped. She walked closer to circle her elder’s shoulders.

“Elsa…”

“I’m okay. We’re okay. One thing I’ve learned from all of this, is that I need to show you how alive I am.”

The redhead smiled. Her sister’s tone had been playful, but also sincere.

“I want to spend as much time as possible with you two, and actually the whole family, to forgive myself for that heartbreaking moment. And help you heal from it.”

Anna’s face melted in a touched expression. She slid her hand in Elsa’s, which the latter appreciated, and she squeezed it.

They kept walking on the carpets. The gloomy weather outside gave a dimmed natural brightness, so the staff had lit the lamps on the walls. It particularly enhanced Elsa’s red dress.

“It looks good on you!” Complimented Anna, her cheeks full with her big grin. “I’m so happy to have ordered it this perfect.”

Elsa looked away bashfully. “I don’t know… It looks a bit too red, no? Its color remind me of blood.”

Anna puffed. “Calm down, drama queen. It’s just that you’re not used to wear warm colors.”

The blonde had a wince. “Maybe that’s why I’m feeling so uncomfortable.”

Her sister’s eyes widened. “Hey, if it’s scratchy or too frivolous or anything, feel free to change, Elsa, please.” Insisted Anna, her happy voice switching to care.

“I’m fine.” Lied Elsa. “This dress is too gorgeous to take it off.”

Anna smiled. She loved the adjective.

Elsa felt conflicted as they walked together to the lesson room to talk to Eydis and Isak before heading to the dinner table. She genuinely appreciated Anna’s gift, and the dress was really beautiful, but she felt weird in it. And yet, weird wasn’t really the word… It was like she had a queasy feeling, like she was not feeling herself. She shook her head to dismiss that sensation, and smiled to her nephew and niece when she entered the room.

Elsa barely had the time to salute the smiling tutor when Isak jumped from his chair and ran to her to tackle her waist in a hug.

“Auntie!! I’m so happy that you’re back!!”

“Me too.” Smiled Elsa, brushing his hair. “And I almost didn’t make it…”

Anna gave her a strong look that meant ‘Don’t you dare joking about it this early’, so she stopped.

“You smell nice!” Complimented the boy.

“Why, thank you.”

It was a natural reaction from the child, because Elsa had taken a shower a few hours before. However, what was strange is that she didn’t feel more clean than before. She did smell nice, but it was just a fragrance. In fact, she felt like she was still dirty, and didn’t notice until now because she got distracted by her discussions with Honeymaren and Anna. Now, she was dying to run back to the bathroom and rub all of her skin severely.

Elsa detached from the children after greeting them, trying to change her mind by observing the room. She smiled at what surrounded her. The royal children had lessons in the room where the portrait of her father was hanged, representing him in official outfit as he lifted the orb and scepter during his coronation. She lost herself in the memory of a younger self, on the morning of her own coronation, when she had trained to do that very gesture without losing control over her power and freeze everything.

Before leaving, the tutor had opened the doors of the balcony to let some fresh air come in. Two children racking their brains doing mathematics problems could produce a lot of heat. While they were busy chatting with their mom to talk about their lesson, Elsa walked on the balcony, humming in joy at the welcome damp of air. She loved how the specific smell of the fjord reminded her of Arendelle, and brought a feeling of warmth within. It also reminded her of the salty breeze of the Dark Sea every time she would go to Ahtohallan, so in all cases, the sensation caused by rain in the distance and the smell of petrichor always filled her with delight.

“It’s great to have some rain.” Said a voice behind her.

Only a voice could be this positive about a type of weather that many despised; when she turned, she smiled to her sister.

“It will make the farmers up the hills happy. Crops needed this.”

Elsa grinned as she put her forearms on the railing, still sheltered by the roof. “I love that you think about all those little details. You make a remarkable Queen. Our old geopolitics teacher must be pale with envy to see your talent.”

Anna giggled at the compliment. “He actually retired. I saw him in the village not so long ago. Besides, talent is passion with practice. I simply like it when farmers are happy. Good soil also means more food, and better food.”

“And you love food.” Smirked her elder.

“Yep.”

They laughed for a moment. Elsa passed her hand on the railing. “I remember that this balcony was the very first place where I saw the guests coming to my coronation.”

The redhead smiled, looking at the gates below. “This is a really great spot to watch the kingdom indeed.”

“I was mortified with fear, though.” Chuckled the Snow Queen nervously. “Waow… This feels like a century ago. A lifetime, even.”

“It is, in a way.”

They observed the rain together, until Eydis’ voice resounded behind them.

“Mother, can we play with Aunt Elsa before dinner?”

Both women turned around. “Oh, sweetie, no. We have to go. We came here to walk down with you. It will be served soon.”

“Please, please please!” Begged the teenager.

Anna put her arms on her hips. “Wasn’t the level of adventure those last days enough to satiate your adrenalin?”

Eydis giggled. Isak intervened with a dramatic dismiss hand gesture. “It’s okay, ‘dis. I’m sure that Auntie cheats at games anyway.”

Anna scoffed, and Elsa blinked in surprise at his nerve. But quickly, she remembered that Isak was a very sore loser, even worse than her sister. With a mother like theirs, it was no wonder.

“Elsa never cheats at games.” Chuckled the Queen. “She’s even very bad because of that.”

Elsa looked at her with a raised eyebrow, wondering if that was defense or mockery from her part.

“It’s obvious that you all have never played kyykkä with her.” Scoffed a voice at the entrance.

They turned to see Honeymaren leaning on the door frame, her arms crossed with sarcasm.

“She keeps tickling me so I miss the throw when she teams up with Ryder.”

“Wait, you cheat?” Blinked Anna.

Elsa bit her lip. “Maybe…”

“You’re aware that the best cheaters never let you know that they cheat, right?” Underlined Honeymaren.

Anna’s jaw dropped like she just realized a lifetime trickery.

“Wait, what the heck is kyykkä?” Asked Eydis.

“A game with wooden pins. It’s a combination of chance and skill, which your aunt both have, and it’s a nightmare for me when I’m not in her team. By the way, I’m certain that when Ryder and her are together, they plot against me. Even if we’re seven teams to play, they still do their best so I gain zero point.”

The children giggled in unison.

“Anyway, what are you two devils waiting for? It’s dinner time!”

They all walked down to the dinner table. While they set the excited children down, Elsa chatted a bit with Kristoff, thanking him for everything. To ease her worry, he joked on how deeply asleep she was when they arrived in the early afternoon.

“We’ll have to make sure that she actually sleeps tonight”, laughed Anna, who naturally had been eavesdropping.

Honeymaren added a mockery as well once they sat down. “Jongu told me that he saw you wander here and there all night. Even the Spirits tried to put you to sleep, but what can they do when their unifier is stubborn as brass, uh?”

“Stop it.” Mumbled Elsa as she helped herself with lamb.

She then went in a very bad mood for the whole dinner.

Elsa started seeing defaults about everything. The messy behavior of Isak at the table when he played with his food, the way Eydis toyed with her fork, the way Anna tapped with her knee against the table, the loud talks Kristoff and Honeymaren had, everything made her go nuts. When the staff arrived with new courses, Elsa saw mannerisms in Ronny’s moves that she started to hate, she noticed how the food wasn’t perfectly symmetrical in the dishes, and she kept being distracted by the coughs of the maid who was serving wine. The blonde also observed elements of decoration that she never criticized until now, and that she, suddenly, couldn’t bear to see anymore. It all made her nauseous, and she had to force herself to eat.

Elsa was actually surprised by her own temper when they all finished dessert. Why was she acting like that? They only had been joking when they talked about her sleep, and their remarks were just tease, she knew it. Then why was she so grumpy? Why did she only see what’s bad?

She was on her nerves, and something was up. But what?

The conversations continued between the members of her family, but her mind had gone elsewhere.

=======

Elsa kept pacing back and forth in the guest bedroom. She was conflicted, questioning herself, and her thoughts were bouncing around in her brain in unstoppable hops.

She sighed heavily as she came to a stop, realizing she better do so or the flooring would be pressed where she kept walking.

Then her fingers fidgeted on their own accord, and she grumbled when she noticed; she had to put an end to that behavior.

The Snow Queen had pretended to go to the bathroom while the others were having tea in the living room after dinner, and now she had spent too much time here… They would soon find it suspicious.

But before returning to them, she really wanted to understand what was going on, and why she was feeling like this.

As she closed her eyes to focus, she could tell it was linked to magic. It wasn’t related to the Spirits, though, for she could feel their common joy as they rambled around the Forest, even from the Arendelle castle. So what was it related to? Ahtohallan? No, it was easy to tell that it wasn’t about the ancient glacier. Was it her ice and snow magic, then?

She opened her eyes, and conjured some snowflakes in the air from her left palm to test it out and see how she would feel. In the split second before she did, Elsa realized that she hadn’t been using her magic for the last two days, simply lacking of opportunities. When she projected the snowflakes, they floated as usual, but an odd sensation roamed her entire soul. She felt oddly filthy. That same sensation of dirt she had experienced before came back immediately. It was like she was covered with mud, or marked with soil, or even mucky. Yet she knew that her skin was cleaned, and her dress was entirely new. She looked down at her body, touching the outfit at parts. No, the whole fabric exhaled nothing magical that could make her feel that way. But damn, did that color started to piss her off. It really looked like blood.

As she absentmindedly made her snowflakes twirl around her fingers in a flick of the wrist, an habit she had while she was thinking, a more precise sensation came to her mind. It was like she had sticky fingers. She vanished the magic with a frown, and rubbed her skin. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“Then why do I feel like that?” Muttered Elsa out loud. “This is driving me mad!”

She clenched her fists and stretched her arms down in frustration. An outburst of magic came from her core, so sudden it surprised her; it also had a very specific vibe that Elsa had never experienced before, even when she discovered herself new ice and snow skills. It snapped in her like she had triggered something, and it felt like she had unclogged something deep inside.

The very millisecond she felt it pass her wrists, she hurried to bring all her focus in her palms to stop the magic in its race. The weird magic obeyed, and she begged for it to retract and dissipate.

Once done, Elsa’s eyes were wide open in panic, and she panted as her heart beats rose in speed. That wasn’t magic that coursed that fast through her arms. Or rather, it wasn’t…

She suddenly twirled around, grabbed the door handle to open the door and ran in the corridor. She almost fell in the stairs with the speed at which she was going down; but she didn’t care. She grabbed her dress up to run even faster, grabbed the handle of the living room door, ran to her sister, but didn’t grab her. She even briskly put her hands along her thighs, doing all she could to absolutely not touch anyone.

“Waow, Elsa, are you okay?” Blinked Anna.

Eydis turned around in a happy jump from the couch where she was sit on her heels.

“Ah, here you are! Papa is talking about a machine in America that allows you to talk to someone who isn’t even there. That’s totally not true, right? That can’t exist, right? I’m sure that the word tell-a-fun isn’t even real. He’s messing with me, right?”

“It’s pronounced ‘telephone’”, corrected Kristoff as he rolled his eyes. “And it’s very real.”

“You can’t believe everything that the newspapers say, Kristoff.” Laughed Honeymaren.

“Is it magical, then?” Asked Isak to the brunette.

She heard his question, but didn’t respond. She had just noticed Elsa’s sudden entrance, and clear distress. She frowned as she tried to understand what was wrong with her wife. Elsa had isolated Anna in a corner.

“You look like you have seen a ghost.” Worried Anna.

“I need to talk to you. Please. Alone. Right now.”

Everything stopped in Anna’s brain at those words. The last time Elsa pronounce those exact words, with this intensity, with this alarmed eyes, was a lifetime ago. And it was right before her coronation party went upside down. Anna had always wondered how different things would have been if she hadn’t been a recalcitrant idiot and accepted to follow Elsa, because she would have revealed everything about her 13 years of secrecy and silence.

The redhead instantly put her cup down, and nodded firmly. She invited her to lead the way, already following her nervous wreck of a sister in another room. As they went out under the others’ confused gazes, Anna gave a look to Honeymaren. Nevertheless, the leader nodded wisely, not insisting on following them. If Elsa insisted on the privacy, she was willing to respect it.

Anna closed the door behind them as they entered the council room, thinking it was best to not go to her study upstairs. It was too far, Elsa’s concerning behavior needed to be taken care of immediately.

As soon as she turned to watch her elder, she saw that Elsa was in a state of complete stress. The redhead rose her hand as she came closer.

“Woaw, woaw, hey hey hey, Elsa, look at me. Breathe. Try to breathe.”

Elsa was panting heavily, switching in between clenching her hands, stopping to watch her sister, then pacing in the room, then stopping to watch her again.

“Elsa, hey, no matter what it is, I love you, okay? Try to calm down. Look at me. There. Great. Keep your eyes on me.” Indicated Anna, smiling as she followed her instructions.

Elsa closed her mouth and continued to breath heavily through her nose, but she followed Anna’s steady nods that helped her catch a regular breath. Finally, she settled to a calm attitude.

“Theeeere. Better, uh? Relax.”

Anna smiled and was about to step closer to enlace her, when suddenly Elsa took a step back and clenched her hands together.

The blonde clenched her eyes shut and closed her mouth in a thin line, shaking no with her head. She was in a lack of words, or rather, she didn’t want to say ‘Don’t touch me’.

“Oh.” Reacted Anna, and she felt like her heart sunk in her chest. “Okay.”

She accepted that choice, but she didn’t like it at all. She didn’t like what that meant, and she didn’t like the state it was putting Elsa in. She reluctantly took some distance.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to, Elsa. I understand. I’m staying by the door, I promise I won’t move. But I support you. You can tell me anything.”

The blonde opened her eyes and looked at her in a mix of sadness, worry and thankfulness.

“I… I know why I feel weird.” Stated Elsa in a croaked voice.

“Okay?” Said Anna, not understanding what she was referring to, yet listening closely and encouraging her to continue.

Elsa had stopped touching her hands to put them along her body next to her hips, trying her best not to clench her fists.

“At first, I felt dirty, even after I took a shower. Then I was feeling odd about the color of this dress… That I can’t dissociate from the concept of violence. I felt really uncomfortable with my own body, like I was out of my shoes, though not literally, you know? And I kept having this sensation of filth, of grime… It’s like my whole body and mind is sticky with a matter I can’t figure. I felt nauseous during meal, and I kept reproaching stuff to everyone and everything. In general, I’m not feeling myself at all. Anna…”

The redhead was devastated by Elsa’s confessions and analysis, and gave her an interrogative look.

“What?”

“I think that Victor gave me all the magic he had in him. I don’t only have my ice magic back. I have dark magic too.”

Anna’s teal blue eyes widened in terror, and she gasped.

Elsa twisted her face in a sorrowful expression, and she lifted her arms, then regained the angered state she had been in when she was in the bedroom. Instantly, the same horrible feeling roamed her veins and raced up to her open hands.

Ink black goo slowly spilled out of her palms and fingers, thick and sticky. It fell to the floor and splashed heavily at her feet.

Elsa gulped and took a breath to avoid crying.

“I have dark magic too.”

*******

HIATUS

*******

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stitchcasual · 5 years ago

Text

A Running Date

Live on AO3 or click through the cut for the full thing

a real fluffy Fenhawke fic with a wedding meetcute because We Deserve It

"Who's the hot guy with tattoos?"

Marian and Isabela share a look, high five, then Isabela extends a hand toward her new wife.

"Pay up, darling."

Marian grumbles and slaps a bill too crushed and crumpled for Garrett to make out the denomination into Isabela's hand. The look on her face says it wasn't small, however. The two of them are sitting on a slightly raised piece of flooring at the back end of the social hall Marian and Garrett's mother has rented for Marian's wedding reception. They're receiving visitors there, a whole line of people waiting to convey their best wishes to the happy couple on their happy day. Garlands and flowers decorate nearly every piece of available space, and despite the fervor with which Marian had opposed having a high society reception like their mother wanted, she and Isabela are holding court up here like they're royalty.

"You bet on whether or not I'd ask about him?" Garrett asks, unsure whether he should be offended or not.

Marian grins at him. "Of course not, dear brother. I would never do that to my favorite twin. We bet on how long it would take you to ask."

Isabela cackles. Garrett is definitely offended, but he supposes he does have a history of doing this. It's not his fault his sister attracts hot, queer people, though, so he can't be blamed for it.

"Anyway, that's Fenris."

"That's Fenris?"

Fenris and Marian work together, and she's told a few stories about him over the years when she and Garrett get together for drinks. According to her, Fenris is hilarious and intelligent, if a little grumpy and standoffish, and her favorite coworker. Garrett takes another look over at Fenris, standing against a wall with a nearly empty wine glass. Where Garrett is tall and broad, Fenris is average height and narrow; where Garrett is pale skinned and dark haired, Fenris has light brown skin and white hair. He's utterly gorgeous, which is the conclusion Garrett came to after an hour of trying not to stare at him rocking the hell out of that tuxedo during the ceremony. Fenris stood in Isabela's eclectic mix of bridespeople while Garrett performed his duties as his twin sister's best man and thankfully didn't stumble over too much in the course of what he was expected to say.

"Yep. And he is incredibly out of your league, but because you're my brother and I love you so much, take this when you go talk to him." Marian pulls a bottle of wine from behind her chair and somehow manages to hand it over to Garrett despite the scuffle with Isabela that ensues when she sees which bottle it is.

"That's cheating, kitten," Isabela pouts. "We'll have to amend our bet."

Garrett hightails it away from the dias after kissing his sister on the cheek, not wanting to hear exactly what it is she and her troublemaker of a wife bet on this time. He does hear Carver say, "What's his problem?” and then, "Ow!" when Bethany slaps his arm as they step up next to offer their congratulations.

This is still the drinks and hors d'oeuvres hour of the reception, which means everyone's milling around and stretching their legs after the long ceremony and before the long dinner to come. Garrett snags a bottle opener from Bodahn in the kitchen, promising to return it later, and attempts to make as casual a beeline for Fenris as he can. He doesn't want to come on too aggressive, even if he's been hoping for a chance to talk to him since yesterday at the rehearsal dinner.

En route, he's waylaid by Anders and Nathaniel, his exes who had, rather amicably after a year of them all dating each other, decided they'd prefer to be a couple rather than a thruple. That had suited Garrett, eventually, once he'd realized that maybe he wasn't actually ready to date so soon after his father's death. He'd stayed friends with Anders and Nathaniel, though, and has tried dropping more than a few hints over the last few years that the two of them should get married too, but so far they haven't. As long as they're happy, though. Anders and Isabela know each other from some shadowy past encounter, or so Garrett has always liked to believe, and Nathaniel, aside from being from old money himself and thus invited on his own merits thanks to Leandra’s system, goes wherever Anders does.

They let him go when he, after several minutes of polite conversation, explodes quietly that he's trying to go hit on someone thank you very much and if they'd be so kind as to let him get on with that. Or, rather, Nathaniel lets him go and covers Anders's mouth with one hand when Anders tries to say more than, "Him?? Why would you want to—"

Garrett approaches Fenris slowly, within eyeshot (sneaking up behind someone seems like it might make for a bad first impression), and grips and regrips the wine bottle, hoping desperately that it doesn't fall out of his hands, as suddenly sweaty as they seem to be. The murmur of voices around him is simultaneously too loud and too soft, and he doesn't know how to pitch his voice so it carries to Fenris without deafening him. He settles for a wave with his free hand when Fenris's eyes lock onto him during their sweep around the room. Fenris nods in return, brushing soft looking white hair out of his eyes.

Okay so the wave was a mistake. Bad first greeting. Garrett raises his other hand, the one holding the wine bottle, and tries again, adding the smile Marian has told him is dick-worthy. He's pretty sure she means that well. Fenris raises an eyebrow, considers, and gestures to the wall beside him with his wine glass. Garrett takes the hint: he opens the bottle immediately after settling next to Fenris and pours a generous amount into the glass.

And then he realizes he forgot to bring himself a glass too.

"Sorry, uh…Bran," he says, reading the table setting as he purloins the wine glass from the seat closest to him.

He chooses to believe that the look on Fenris’s face is amusement, and raises his newly obtained and filled wine glass in a toast. Fenris taps his glass gently against Garrett’s and sips. His beautiful, holy shit so beautiful, green eyes widen a second later, and he pins Garrett with a searching gaze.

“Where did you get this?” Fenris asks, and his voice is so low and rough and unexpected that Garrett short-circuits. In all her stories, Marian hadn’t mentioned anything about a voice Garrett would be one hundred percent okay with doing absolutely filthy things with. That the voice is attached to someone as handsome as Fenris is a perk.

“Why? Is it good?” he asks, finally drinking himself. “Oh, holy shit, yes, it is.” He takes another sip, expending a considerable amount of willpower to keep from gulping it down. This wine is fantastic.

“Well,” he says, raising the bottle and peering at the label, “apparently this is the kind of shit rich people give as presents at weddings.”

“I didn’t get one,” Fenris sniffs, and Garrett laughs.

“I didn’t get one either, but the bride…uh, bride number one? Or would she be number two? I think Marian proposed so would that make her number one? Anyway, one of the brides is my twin sister and she let me have it.”

“Your sister must love you a lot to part with a bottle of Aggregio.”

“How did you—”

“I have a discerning palate.”

Fenris closes his eyes as he drinks again, savoring the wine. Garrett tries not to stare, he really, really does, but the way Fenris’s throat works when he swallows and the little sound he makes are entirely too difficult to ignore.

“I’ll have to thank my sister, I guess. You know, eventually. When she’s not swarmed by mobs of fancy-dressed fans.” Garrett loosens his tie, tugging back and forth with a finger until he can undo the top button of his dress shirt as well. His mother will rake him over the coals for this, but right now the comfort and extra air are necessary; the wine and proximity to such an attractive person are attempting to do him in.

“So, you are Marian’s brother.”

The question is less of a question and more of a statement coming from Fenris, and Garrett’s stomach swirls nauseatingly with the wine.

“Technically yes, though Carver’s also her brother, technically. If we’re being specific.”

Fenris rumbles with laughter. Garrett’s pretty sure if he’d been standing any closer to Fenris he would have been able to feel the vibrations of that sound.

“Please tell me she hasn’t been spreading embarrassing stories about me to everyone at work.” He would cover his face with a hand but both are occupied, and so he just hangs his head and only chances looks at Fenris out of the corner of his eyes.

“Horribly scandalous stories, I’m afraid.”

Garrett groans and closes his eyes.

“I have heard about your fifth birthday party three times.”

“Oh, sweet Maker, strike me down now,” Garrett mutters, and now he does gulp at his wine.

“I admit, I find it fascinating that anyone could eat an entire cake without anyone noticing until he throws it all up later onto the rest of the ferris wheel riders.”

“Death would be a mercy I do not deserve, yet humbly beg of you.”

That rumbling laugh again, and Garrett risks an actual glance at Fenris. He’s smiling, the skin around his eyes crinkling in true mirth. It doesn’t sound like Fenris is mean-spirited in his teasing, just amused at the situation. Which Garrett can sometimes laugh at himself, if he’s being honest.

“I am honestly impressed that you managed to get nearly everyone else on the ride.”

And, here’s the unbelievable thing, Fenris really does sound impressed. Not disgusted. Just honestly impressed at a five-year-old Garrett’s ability to projectile vomit cake at an amusement park. That’s a first.

“It’s not my fault they built that ferris wheel with latticed roofs on the cars. They should have known better.”

Fenris barks a laugh. “That is poor design.”

“That’s what I’m saying! It’s also not my fault that mom thought I couldn’t climb up onto that counter; I’d been climbing weird shit since I was born.”

“Do you still?”

That’s a personal question. They’ve taken the turn from funny anecdote into actual conversation, and Garrett borrows courage from the wine, topping off his glass and Fenris’s, before answering. This is going leagues better than he thought it might after talking with Marian and Isabela, and though he’ll credit the wine for the initial breakthrough, the rest is just…happening.

“A little, here and there. I was big into free running for a while until, uh, some stuff happened, and I just never got quite back into it. That and I broke my ankle. Hard to run on one of those.”

‘Some stuff happened’ is Garrett’s usual way of brushing past saying ‘my father’s death really fucked me up’ so people don’t ask too many invasive questions, but Fenris is nodding like he understands. Marian was working with Fenris when their dad died, so it would stand to reason that he might know about it and make the assumption.

“Do you run anymore?”

“Now and then. I need to sign up for a race or something, hard to get motivated otherwise.”

“I understand. Would you… I do not know how far you live from Marian, but she and I are neighbors, sort of. If you wanted a running partner, that is.”

Garrett does not choke on his wine, but it’s a near thing. He’d thought, make some conversation, drink some wine, sit at the same table for dinner, and then call it a night and maybe ask Marian about Fenris after a couple weeks and see if she could arrange a party or something so they could run into each other ‘accidentally’ and then he would gather up his courage and ask Fenris on something that could be called a date if one squinted sideways at it. Things are going so well he almost doesn’t trust them. He refuses to look over at Marian and Isabela, just in case.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’d be great. There’s that little park near her place. I could meet you there? When do you run?”

Between the two of them as they keep conversing, they polish off the bottle of Aggregio before the hour ends and Marian and Isabela are escorted from receiving their guests to their table at the front of the hall for dinner. Garrett and Fenris sit on opposite sides of the table from each other, not able to continue talking, but they sneak a few glances. Garrett sees Isabela pass Marian a folded bill after they catch Garrett and Fenris in one of their looks, and Marian toasts in Garrett’s direction after that. He laughs, happy to see his sister so happy with Isabela (and glad that their first round of betting as a married couple ended in a draw, with one win each). Even his mother readjusting his shirt and tie before the speeches can’t dampen his good mood.

It’s just a running date, but Garrett has a feeling it’s the start to something wonderful.

#dragon age 2 #da2 #fenhawke #hawris #feels like forever since i wrote and posted anything #so please take this fluff #tw emetophobia #stop at 'I admit I find it fascinating'#and pick back up at Fenris barks a laugh.#it's a short section #stitch fic

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crystalninjaphoenix · 5 years ago

Text

Too Deep

Switch AU

Oh boy, this is a fairly long one. Not too long, but it all focuses on basically one of our boys: Jackie. After the last story, he has some things to deal with. How does someone adjust to regular life after everything that’s happened? Well, perhaps Jackie doesn’t deal with it in the best way, but he’s figuring it out. I had fun with this chapter, so I hope you guys have fun reading it!

More of this AU found here

Jackie woke up to sunlight coming through the window. The curtains were open, letting the sun brighten the room. He’d asked Rama to leave them open all the time, but they’d been a little concerned about people looking through the bedroom windows. The two of them agreed to keep them closed at night but open during the day. Jackie was a little worried about that at first, but it worked out.

Glancing at the clock, Jackie noted that it was about 11:30 a.m. Well, he couldn’t just lie in bed all day. Yawning, he sat up and stretched, throwing away the covers and standing up. Quickly, he rummaged through the clothes in his drawer, pulling out some new ones. He pulled the curtains mostly-closed, then backed up into the corner to quickly get dressed. That involved taking off his red hoodie, changing clothes, then putting his hoodie back on. He instinctively started to finger-comb his hair before remembering that JJ had cut it for him a week ago. Which he was really grateful for, of course, even if it had taken a while to get used to the feel of short hair.

Taking a deep breath, Jackie grabbed his glasses, putting them on before opening the curtains again and leaving the room. Upon walking out into the hallway, he immediately picked up on the sound of voices. And froze. One of them he recognized as Rama’s, but the other was strange. It sounded female. Jackie shook his head, and took another deep breath. He headed towards the living room, poking his head through the doorway.

Rama was there, chatting with a blonde woman he vaguely recognized. They immediately noticed him, and smiled, waving him over. “Hey, Jackieboy. How’re you?” They gestured to the woman. “You remember Ms. Davidson, right?”

“Um, kind of?” Jackie said quietly. He didn’t know her name, but he sort of remembered her face. “Weren’t you...the one who brought me to the hospital?”

“That was me. And please, just call me Stacy.” Despite being on almost the other side of the room, Stacy held out her hand for a handshake. When Jackie didn’t move, she slowly lowered it. “I always wanted to check up on you after that first day, but I’ve been so busy. When I finally got the time, you’d been checked out. But I got your address from that lovely Dr. Green, and thought I’d pop in today. Your...spouse—” She glanced over at Rama to see if that was the right word to use, and they nodded. “—told me you were still asleep, and, well, we got to chatting. How are you feeling?”

Jackie couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a trap. Distorter’s tricks and illusions had never been this elaborate, but he still couldn’t get rid of the lingering doubt. After a too-long moment of silence, he decided on being nice, but not too enthusiastic. “Still dealing with everything, but better,” he said, trying to put some cheer in his voice. “At least I don’t need to use the cane as much anymore.”

Rama chuckled. “Is Marvin upset to lose a kindred spirit?”

“Ha, maybe a little. Well, I’d still need to use it to stand for too long.” Jackie took a few steps backwards. “Well, I’m...going to get breakfast, now.”

“Oh. Alright, Jackie,” Rama said. “But after you’re done, can I talk to you? Nothing bad, I promise.”

“Uh—sure.” Jackie gave them a tight smile. He backed up until he hit the other wall, then turned and hurried into the kitchen.

Deciding what he wanted was a task all on its own. He didn’t want anything too difficult to make, but he also didn’t want anything too plain to eat. After a moment’s consideration, he ended up taking out the box of Michelle’s favorite cereal—sugar was a strong taste, right?—and pouring it into a bowl. He went to the fridge to get some milk, but as soon as he opened the door and reached inside the cold—

Cold air, cold concrete, everything cold enough to cause constant shivers. He’d tried to curl up as best as he could, but there was nowhere to hide. The room was stark and bare and dark. How long had it been? Must’ve been a few hours, at least, but something told him it was more than that.

Eventually, the door opened. He heard it, though there was no shift in the light. He also heard the footsteps. A hand grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head upward. “Oh no, are you cold? Well, just think, it could be worse! Next time, you could get locked inside the refrigerator. Those things are big, once you’ve removed all the shelves.” He shook his head, the motion tearing at his hair, muttering words that were muffled by the cloth in his mouth—

Jackie managed to slam the fridge door closed. He stood with his hands pressed against the door for a while, feeling his heart suddenly pound rapidly in his chest. And he took a deep breath. On second thought, he didn’t need milk.

He sat in the dining room at the table and quickly ate through his cereal. Once done, he could still hear Rama in the living room chatting with the Stacy woman, so he pulled out his phone and got lost in a coloring app for a while.

Eventually, he heard the front door open and close, and then Rama knocked on the doorframe to announce their presence—something they hadn’t always done, but something he appreciated, since he was rather...jumpy lately. “Hey Jackieboy. You good? Did she...freak you out or something?”

Jackie smiled at them. “No, no. I just...wasn’t expecting someone to show up. She seems alright.”

“She’s nice, yeah.” Rama walked over and sat down at the table across from him. “I like her. She, um...might be coming over more. Just thought I’d tell you now.”

He blinked. “Oh?”

“Yeah, she was in the country for some personal business, but now she’s decided to take an extended vacation. I told her we should meet up, and we exchanged phone numbers, so...nothing’s guaranteed, but she might be coming over sometimes.” Rama paused. “Is that okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Jackie shrugged. “If you like her, I like her. Though I would...um, appreciate it if...if she does come over, if you’d tell me when she’ll arrive. Just so I can...prepare.” He thought about trying to laugh, but it was too much effort. “Has Michelle met her, yet?”

“No, but I’m sure they’ll get along. Stacy says she’s good with kids. Apparently doesn’t have any of her own, but she was an aunt.” Rama leaned back in their chair. “Speaking of Michelle, what are we going to do for her birthday?”

“I dunno, what does she want? Party? Presents, of course.”

Rama laughed. “Yeah, of course. We should talk about what to get her, her birthday’s only a month away.”

Jackie stared at them, then sat up straight. “Oh fuck, her birthday’s only a month away!” He hit his forehead. “God, I totally forgot! Well, no, a-actually, I didn’t...didn’t forget, I just—I haven’t been keeping track of time—well, no, I’ve been trying to, but it just—it just slips away—”

“Jackie, calm down, it’s fine,” Rama said.

He didn’t respond, too busy checking the calendar on his phone. “Shit, it’s the third, it is only a month—and it’s only a week until Anti’s birthday, I have to get him a gift too, but that’s not too hard, but Michelle has a whole party and—”

“Jackie, it’s fine.” Rama reached over and put their hand on top of his. “It’s not your fault. I can do most of the stuff this year, it’s not like I don’t have the free time.” They chuckled a bit.

“But you still have to write, because that’s your job and all, but I—”

“Take it easy, Jackieboy. You’re still...getting better, it’s not good to push yourself.” Rama squeezed his hand. “I’ll be right here if you need anything, and so will your friends.”

Jackie took a deep breath. “Thanks, Ramram. Is...is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

Rama, who’d been giggling a bit at the nickname, suddenly turned serious. “Well, no. You see, this woman called the house phone this morning before Stacy showed up. She said she was some sort of detective.”

“...oh.” Jackie nodded. “What did she say her name was?”

“Um...Kikilolo...no, sorry, Kikelomo. She also said she’d been waiting for you to call her, but since you haven’t yet, she found the home number in the phone book and called to check on you. She, uh...” Rama hesitated. “...wanted to know if you would be up for...coming in. To talk about what happened.”

“Who still uses phone books?” Jackie muttered. “Well, detectives, I guess.” He didn’t acknowledge anything past that.

“Jackie...” Rama sighed. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but...nevermind.”

“No, go ahead. Say what you were going to.”

“I just...think it would be a good idea if you told this detective about it,” Rama said slowly. “So she can help. What if...the same thing happens to someone else?”

Jackie looked down at the surface of the dining room table, tracing the whorls of the wood with his eyes. He took a deep breath. “That’s...a good point. Maybe I’ll...I’ll call her.”

“You sure?” Rama said.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “In fact, I’ll do that right now.”

He picked up his phone and stood up. Swaying for a moment, he turned and went into the living room, sitting down on the sofa. Rama followed him, watching as he dialed a number. He’d stared at the small card the detectives had given him in the hospital for so long, that he had the number memorized by now. Taking another deep breath, he listened to the ringing on the other end.

Three rings later, a voice on the other side picked up. “Hello?”

“H-hi, Detective Kikelomo?” Jackie said. “It—It’s Jackie Parker, remember me?”

“Ah, Dr. Parker, good to hear from you!” Kikelomo’s voice brightened. “I just spoke to your spouse this morning, I assume that’s why you’re calling?”

“Y...yeah, they said you wanted to talk to me? About...everything?” He glanced down, noticing his hand on his lap was shaking slightly.

“Well, if you’re up to it, we were thinking...”

Her voice trailed away. Or rather, Jackie stopped listening. He’d glanced down at his hand for a moment, curling his fingers into a fist to stop the shaking, and in the process his wrist had slipped out from under the sleeve of his hoodie. Twisted, raised scars covered them, running in a line—

“This is entirely your fault.” Though he still couldn’t describe the voice to save his life, it was far too familiar. Also familiar were the hands pulling and twisting his arms behind his back. He wanted to cry out, to struggle, but his captor was pressing down heavily on his mind, gray fog weighing down every thought and impulse. Though that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when his arms and joints were pushed into a position they shouldn’t be in.

“I’m not taking this off. For a while, if ever,” the voice muttered. One hand held his arms in place, the other tightened the plastic zip-tie around his wrists. “Though if you behave and be nice, I’ll put your arms back into a less...stressful position.” The hands let go, and the fog lifted from his mind. Instantly, his arms jerked, and he cried out, muffled sounds of pain as he tried to settle back into something more comfortable. But it was impossible. His muscles were already shaking from the effort of the unnatural position. The plastic tie was digging into his wrist—as it would continue to, for months, rubbing and eventually cutting into his skin—

“—would you be up to that, Dr. Parker?” Kikelomo asked.

Jackie blinked furiously, shaking his hand so that the sleeve fell back down over his wrist. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“Tomorrow at eight a.m. At the station, if you’re comfortable with it, though I understand if you’re not.”

“No, I-I can be there. Eight in the morning, sharp.”

“Great. Me and Laurens will meet you there. See you tomorrow.” And she hung up.

Jackie dropped his phone—did not put it down, just opened his fingers and let it fall onto the couch cushions. He looked over at Rama, who waited. “So...guess I’ll be...going to the police station tomorrow.”

“At eight, I heard that part.” Rama nodded. “And you mean we’ll be going to the police station. The hospital still hasn’t cleared you for driving, remember?”

“Oh.” He’d almost forgotten about that. “Um, if you’re busy, I can call Jameson and ask him. Or take the train.”

“No, it’s fine, we have to drop Michelle off in the morning anyway, you can just come with me.” Rama smiled and nodded, as if it was settled. “Though if this is going to be, like, an appointment, you should probably get ready.”

“Um...yeah? Of course?” Jackie nodded. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, um...” Rama now looked a bit embarrassed. “I, um, noticed you’ve been wearing your hoodie a lot. And by that, I mean...all the time.”

Jackie folded his arms, feeling the fabric of the hoodie sleeves. “This is my favorite hoodie.”

“I know, but...well, you never wore it to sleep before,” Rama pointed out. “It...it needs to be washed. And while you’re doing that, you can, uh...wash yourself.”

Jackie suddenly laughed. “‘I’m washing me and my clothes,’ you mean?”

Rama couldn’t help but laugh too. “That’s a good one. Ah, rip Vine. But...well, seriously.” Their expression became serious again. “You, uh...haven’t really....I mean, maybe I haven’t seen it, but I haven’t noticed you, uh...” They stiffened, suddenly resolved. “Oh fuck it. Jackie, you haven’t taken a shower or a bath since you got home.”

Jackie had no response to that. For a moment he was frozen, staring at nothing, his shoulders hunched protectively. What was he supposed to say? To any of this? How was he supposed to tell them that he kept wearing the hoodie because he hadn’t had it...there, so if he wore it, he knew he was really back home? Let alone the whole situation with...He laughed nervously. “Are you saying I smell?”

“No. I mean, you do, but you actually smell like our cherry hand soap, nothing bad that I can pick up.” Rama shifted awkwardly. “But, uh...you might start smelling worse if this goes on any longer. By the way, I, uh, noticed we’ve been running out of hand soap real quickly.”

Well that was weird. It certainly wasn’t because he’d been using excessive amounts of their foamy hand soap to try and keep clean. Without water. No water, he didn’t ever want to see—Jackie took a deep breath. “Um...okay. I can...do that later tonight.”

“You sure?” Rama asked skeptically.

“Yeah. Definitely.” Jackie managed to pull off a smile.

“Okay...if you’re sure.” They headed towards the hall. “I’m going to go get some writing done.”

“Oh, I-I’ll come with you.” Jackie scrambled to his feet. “I’ll just—just get my laptop and headphones and—”

“And hang out in the room with me?” Rama raised an eyebrow, chuckling a bit. “The same thing you’ve been doing for the past two weeks?”

“Um...yeah, that, if it’s okay.” Jackie felt his face growing warm. “I won’t say anything or look at what you’re writing.”

“I know you won’t.” Rama gestured for him to follow them. “Well, c’mon.”

Jackie’s expression brightened a bit as he hurried after them.

———————

Later that evening, well after Rama had picked Michelle up from school and after they’d all had dinner, Jackie found himself standing in the doorway to the bathroom, clutching the sides of the door frame. His eyes were fixed on the bathtub. He must’ve been standing there for five minutes straight, and he knew it was starting to get ridiculous. He took a deep breath, and promised himself he’d step inside. And he did. One step. And then he was frozen again.

Another deep breath. And he took another step.

Another deep breath. And he closed the door behind him.

A few more deep breaths. And he walked over to the side of the bathtub.

He stared down at it, rubbing his arms. He was still wearing his hoodie, but of course, he’d have to take it off, along with everything else, to take a shower or a bath. Right? Maybe if he just left it on—and maybe if he left the shower curtain open while—

No, no, that was ridiculous. He could do it the normal way. After a few more minutes of blank staring, trying to work himself up, he reached forward and turned the handle for the...should it be hot? Or cold? Well he’d turn both on, of course, but which first? Burning, searing hot water, or shocking, freezing cold water?

Another moment passed, another deep breath passed, before his hand quickly darted forward and turned on the cold water with a squeak of the handle. Water spurted out. He slowly reached out and put his hand in the stream—

—cold—freezing—gasping, thrashing—pouring down from above—he was smiling at him, always smiling, make it stop—gasping, gasping—please stop—please—stop—

Crying out, Jackie threw himself backwards, and next thing he knew, he was out of the bathroom altogether and running down the hall. He passed the doorway to the office and slowed down, burying his face in his hands. He tried to take deep breaths. Deep breaths, deep, calm, everything’s fine.

“Jackie?” Rama opened the office door. “Is everything alright?”

“Ah—!” Jackie spun around, eyes wide with alarm, but then he smiled shakily. “Yeah, I’m just—I forgot our washing machine was broken.”

“It’s not—”

“So I’m gonna just walk down to the laundromat and—and wash my hoodie there. I-I’ll be right back!” He hurriedly walked down the hallway, not turning around to look at Rama again. He was almost out the door before he remembered he needed money for a laundromat, so he turned back around, grabbed his wallet from the table it was sitting on in the living room, and then left, not noticing how he slammed the door behind him.

———————

It was actually kind of...nice, to be in the laundromat. It wasn’t too far away from home, and it smelled clean, like detergent. Sure, the tiles of the floor were a little cold, but the music playing over the intercom was pleasant. And there were people there. An attendant at the front counter, and two other customers doing their washing. Jackie actually found himself relaxing a bit. While his hoodie was going through the cycle, he sat on top of the washing machine and checked his messages on his phone.

It looked like none of his friends had messaged him in the past few hours. They were probably busy. He knew Anti liked to start recording at around this time of day, and Schneep was probably at work. And Marvin wasn’t very good at texting at all, he preferred phone calls. Curious, Jackie sent a quick text to JJ. Hey, what’s up?

The reply was quick. Hello Jackie!! Not much rn, but I found a new spell that I could start testing soon :D

Oh, cool! What is it?

Animal transformation!! Very advanced, but I think I could handle it after some study. Will need someone else to supervise, tho, in case things go wrong. Do you want to come over?

It felt like Jackie’s heart froze. To your house? Like, now?

Well not now, like in a few days. I just thought you would be interested and would like to get out. But of course you don’t have to if you don’t want to.

In truth, Jackie hadn’t seen his friends in person in a while. It must’ve been at least a week and a half, probably more. He’d told them all that he needed space, and they were happy to accommodate. But really, he missed seeing them. Maybe he should go visit? Couldnt Marvin help you? he texted.

Well yes, he’s going to. But with this spell, it’s advised to have as many people watching as possible. Again, only if you want to, tho.

He considered the idea of leaving. Going out into the city didn’t seem so bad. Seeing friends. Going into another house—

The door was locked, which was about what he expected. The windows were boarded up from the outside, some of them with shattered glass that he didn’t dare step towards, not after what had happened with the broken mirror. He noticed a fireplace, and briefly considered ducking inside, but he was in no shape to climb up a chimney. So he settled on the door. The knob wouldn’t turn when he tried, the wood wouldn’t shudder when he kicked and pounded on it. Tears were streaking down his face. He screamed, asking, pleading for someone passing by on the street to hear or somehow see him, but nobody was coming, and then there was someone behind him—

Jackie shivered. No, JJ’s town house wasn’t the same thing as...there. But...Maybe another time, bud.

Alright, JJ replied. My door is always open, you know.

I know. Jackie paused, then sent another message. So anything else new? Maybe with Marvin? He could keep the conversation going. That wouldn’t be too difficult. Really, he just...wanted to think about anything else.

Eventually he was done washing his hoodie. Once it came out of the dryer, he immediately pulled it on. The warm cloth felt good, and it smelled like the slightly flowery detergent he’d borrowed from one of the other customers. It was nice to wear again, especially on the short walk back home.

But once he was back home...he found himself pausing outside of the doorway. It was almost like...he didn’t want to go in. But that was ridiculous. This was his house. It was a safe place. So...why didn’t he feel safe?

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to open the front door and go inside. This was alright. He could do this.

———————

The next morning, a loud noise started blaring in his ear. He bolted upright with a shriek, rolling over and falling off the side of the bed. It was a dark room—no no no no, it had all been a lie! He never went home, he was still there—but his hands were free, he had to get out of here while he could! He scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door, slamming against it. He felt for the knob, turning it. The door opened easily, and he fell onto the ground outside, surprised. That wasn’t right...also the hallway was lit up...

“Jackie?”

Jackie looked up, seeing Rama down the hall. They were still in their pajamas, but they’d shoved their red beanie onto their head. And they were looking at him, clearly concerned.

Realizing that he wasn’t where he’d thought he was, Jackie hurried to stand up. He laughed nervously. “Sorry about that. Guess I forgot I set the alarm...wow, it’s dark outside.”

“Well...it’s a little after six am in the fall, so that makes sense.” Rama walked over to him. “You...you doing okay, Jackieboy?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just forgot.” He laughed again.

“Okay.” Rama didn’t look convinced, but they moved on. “I’m guessing you set the alarm so that you could get ready for the thing you have with the detective today?”

“Yeah. I figured two hours would be enough time.” Jackie backed up. “Wow, the alarm is...still going. I’m gonna go turn that off.” He turned around and went back into the bedroom, closing the door on Rama.

He turned on the light switch, illuminating the small bedroom. How could he have mistaken here for there? This was exactly why he’d wanted the curtains open all the time. So he wouldn’t wake up and think he was back in that...other bedroom. He’d gotten into the habit of sleeping well into the daytime, so when he usually woke up, the sunlight would be shining through the glass and lighting up the room, showing that it wasn’t the same place. But now that it was early and dark outside...that was different.

Quickly, Jackie turned off the alarm on his phone and opened the curtains on one of the windows. See? He could see outside. The familiar view of the small backyard was comforting. Sighing, he went back out into the hallway.

Rama had moved into the kitchen, and they were now messing with the stove, making bacon. When they saw Jackie come in, they smiled. “Alright, you look good.”

“I doubt that,” Jackie muttered.

“Well, you’re right, you look like tired shit.”

Jackie gasped, mock-offended. “Rama, I thought you loved me!”

Rama laughed. “I’m just saying it like it is. Unless that was somehow very offensive in English, in which case I plead ignorance.”

Jackie rolled his eyes. “So...you’re making breakfast?”

“Yes,” Rama turned their attention back to the pan. “Do you want to take a shower while I do this? It’ll be a while.”

“Um...” Jackie felt like his feet were rooted to the spot. “Sure, I’ll...I’ll do that.” He took a deep breath, and stepped out of the kitchen.

Okay. He could take a quick shower. Just like...a ten minute shower. That wouldn’t be too bad. Just five minutes. He’ll set a timer on his phone. Maybe for five minutes, actually.

Much sooner than he would’ve liked, he was back in the bathroom. Once again staring at the bathtub. Okay, starting with cold water hadn’t gone well yesterday. But he didn’t want to start with hot water, either. What if he turned both knobs at the same time? That might work. Jackie took another deep breath, and quickly grabbed both knobs with both hands and turned. Water gushed out of the spout.

Jackie laughed, a sound on the border between triumph and hysteria. Good, step one done. This time, he did not reach in to check the temperature. He’d turned both knobs at once, so that meant it would be fine! It would be fine...if he could just actually step into the tub.

Again, the thought occurred to him that he really, really didn’t want to take off his hoodie. But he would have to. Maybe he could...step inside and then take it off? Could that work?

He took several deep breaths. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, he swung his legs over the side. Splash. This was fine. The water was barely an inch deep. It was okay. Never mind the way his heartbeat had skyrocketed when he first felt the water.

Jackie managed to stand up, clutching the edge of the windowsill. He almost knocked over the bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and lotion sitting on the sill, but he managed to avoid that. Was the bathtub filling up? Well, of course it was, but would it keep filling up, or was the drain unplugged? He shook himself. It wouldn’t matter. He’d only be five minutes. Perfectly manageable.

Reaching over, he grabbed the shower curtains closed, making a familiar rattling sound. He froze.

“Looks like you need some help, then.”

“No.” Jackie squeezed his eyes shut. “No, no, no, this is fine, this is different. This is good. I have to do this. It’s fine.”

He took one more deep breath, and opened his eyes, keeping up the stream of reassurances. There was just one more step to get started. And then he’d...have to worry about everything else. Keeping one hand on the windowsill, he bent over and turned one last knob.

Water came pouring out of the shower head above.

—There was no getting away from this. The inside of the bathtub was slippery, and with his hands tied behind his back, he couldn’t get out. He tried to, of course. Kicking and thrashing sent water flying everywhere. Though it made no difference. He was already soaked through, his teeth chattering from the cold seeping into his bones. The spout was pouring more water into the tub, even though it was already overflowing. How long had he been in here before he’d woken up? It must’ve been a while.

He tried once more to climb out, but his legs slipped, and his head went under the water. Gasping, he pushed himself upright again, spluttering.

“No, no, don’t get up.” He didn’t know when Distorter had gotten there, but he was here now. He grabbed his hair—it was always the hair, always, always—and twisting the strands between his fingers, shoved his head under again. There was no time at all to get another solid breath in. Under the water again, and his lungs immediately began screaming. He tried to pull away, but the grip was too tight. He had to get out, he had to breathe—

“Dad?” Michelle opened the bathroom door. “Dad, are you okay?”

Jackie shrieked, and tried to spin around. But of course he slipped, falling against the shower curtain and instinctively grabbing it. The pole above was ripped free of its supports, and came tumbling down with Jackie. He collapsed on the edge of the bathtub, the shower rod knocking him on the head.

“Oh my god!” Michelle covered her mouth. “Dad, stay there, I’ll get Ren!” She turned and ran, leaving the door open.

Jackie blinked for a bit, head aching. He looked up. Water from the shower continued to rain down, landing on his face.

It was hot this time, and he was screaming. Steam was filling the small room, thick enough to choke on. He was on fire, burning, burning, burning. He couldn’t just stay here, he had to get out! Wiggling and thrashing, he probably would’ve found some way to throw himself out of the tub if Distorter hadn’t been there holding him down. One hand on the back of his head, tangled in his hair, the other one on his back, pushing him down. And Distorter was laughing.

“You were complaining so much about the other ones, I thought this would be an improvement! See, isn’t it nice that I listened? Friends listen to each other, and try to make each other happy. Aren’t you happy?”

He shook his head furiously. Tears were stinging his eyes, running down his face. The zip-tie was cutting into his wrists again, and the hot water was agony on the new cuts. He was saying something, but even he couldn’t figure out what it was, aside from some sort of jumble of words asking for it to stop, promising to do anything if this would just stop—

“Jackie, Jackie, look at me! Jackie, you have to look at me! Can you stand up?! Can you talk to me?! Say something! C’mon, Jackieboy!”

He felt something hit his face. Blinking, Jackie looked up at Rama’s worried face.

“Okay, good, you’re looking at me.” Relief flooded their features. “Can you say something? Anything?”

Anything? He couldn’t think of anything. Except... “Make it stop,” he mumbled, dazed. “Please. Please, I’ll...I’ll be good, I promise...”

Rama’s eyes widened. They looked over their shoulder. “Why don’t you go eat breakfast, mijita? We’ll be right there.” Tiny footsteps pattered away, and they turned back. “Jackie, what’s wrong? What do you want me to stop?”

He blinked, and glanced up at the water.

It was warm now, a bearable temperature. But there was something in the water, something grainy. Salt. He knew this meant something terrible, but he couldn’t figure out what, and even if he could, Distorter was pressing down hard on his mind again. He couldn’t move.

The mirror in the bathroom was broken. Shards littered the counter. He watched as Distorter picked up one of the larger pieces. His ever-present smile widened, and then he was back next to the bathtub. He grabbed his hair, pulling him close. “This is going to hurt. A lot. But it’s what you get for being like this.”

The shard of broken mirror dug into his cheek. He gasped. Then it sliced into the other. And Distorter let go. He dropped the mirror shard, and instead picked up a plastic bucket, like one a kid would bring to the beach. Smiling wider still, he used the bucket to scoop up some of the salty water. His hand still in Jackie’s hair, he tilted his head back, and poured.

Jackie screamed.

There was a squeaking sound, and gradually, Jackie realized the water had stopped. Rama appeared before him again, placing a hand on either side of his face. “Okay, it’s off. Is this good? Do you feel better now?”

“Hmmh.” Jackie nodded slowly. His eyes darted around the bathroom. This...this wasn’t the same room. This was...his. Back at home. He wasn’t...

He started to cry.

“Oh...oh, Jackieboy, it’s okay.” Rama pulled him close, not minding how he was soaking wet. They wrapped their arms around him. “It’s okay, you’re safe here. Nothing’s going to hurt you. Jackieboy. Mi corazón. You’re safe here.”

For a long, long moment, Jackie just let himself be held. But after a while of these reassurances, he shook his head. “I...I don’t feel it.”

“You don’t feel what?” Rama asked gently. “Safe?”

“Y-yeah...that.” Jackie squeezed his eyes shut. “I should be, I know, but everything here just reminds me of...there. And him.” He buried his head in Rama’s shirt. “I didn’t want to feel like I was drowning again...”

“I see...” Rama muttered. “Oh. Oh Jackieboy, I’m so sorry. I should’ve known. If I’d known how you felt, I wouldn’t have forced you to—”

“You didn’t know because I didn’t tell you,” Jackie interrupted. “I—I should be normal again by now, because I’m almost better from all the physical stuff, so I should be...better in other ways, too. But I-I still don’t want to grow my hair out again, and I said I would do that when...”

“No, no, Jackieboy.” Rama rubbed circles on his back. “This is going to take a long time to recover from. It was...an...ordeal, what happened to you, and it will not just go away. Especially not if you try to push yourself to go back to some kind of ‘normal.’ Things are not normal right now, and they might not ever be the old normal again. But that is okay. Do you understand?”

Jackie let out a sob. “I’m just...so tired. Of not feeling alright when I’m here.”

“I know, Jackieboy, I know.” Rama paused. “Maybe...you should talk to someone about this? Not those detectives, I think it’s clear now that you’re not ready for that. But a therapist? You know the hospital suggested that, but you never...said if you wanted that.”

“That...that might be a good idea,” Jackie agreed.

“So we’ll try that?”

“Yeah...we can try that.”

Rama pulled away. They smiled at him. “That’s great. Now...can we get out of the bathroom? Or at least the tub?”

“Oh. Yeah, that would be a good idea.” Jackie let Rama pull him up and help him step out of the bathtub. He winced as he saw the broken shower rod and curtain leaning against the wall. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, we can afford a new one,” Rama dismissed. They brushed a few strands of wet hair out of Jackie’s face. “I have to go take Michelle to school, you know. Will you be okay home alone?”

After a moment of serious consideration, Jackie nodded. “I’ll just...hang out in the front room. And look out the window.”

“Alright, but you know you can always go sit outside or something if it bothers you.” Rama leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Jackie’s forehead. “Now let’s get out of here.”

———————

The next hour or so went by fairly easily. They had breakfast, Jackie changed out of his wet pajamas (though he ran the hoodie through the dryer real quick and put it back on), and Rama took Michelle to school. Jackie did indeed hang out in the front room the whole time, looking out the window and not looking back into the house. Soon, he saw the car pulling back in. Later than he would’ve expected, though. And his eyes widened when he saw someone else step out of the car as well as Rama and follow them inside the house.

“Jackie, are you okay?!” Schneep flung open the front door, immediately crossing the room to sit on the sofa next to Jackie. His eyes looked him over.

“I’m fine, uh, but what are you doing here?” Jackie asked, baffled.

“I thought you might want to see friends,” Rama explained, shutting the front door. “I also dropped by Anti’s, but he didn’t answer. Would’ve gone by the other two, also, but they live in the opposite direction.”

“They said you hit your head in the shower, are you okay?” Schneep repeated.

“Um, I am now.” Jackie had been quick to check out the injury, and aside from a bruise forming, he didn’t think it was too much of a problem.

“Good, good.” Schneep nodded. “They also said, ah...you...were not having a good time. Recently. Would you...like to talk about it?”

Jackie felt tears welling in his eyes again. “I...don’t know.”

“Alright, then we will not talk about it,” Schneep said. “But if you need a professional to talk to, I know a good therapist. His specialty is not in...this area, but I am sure he knows others who are. Or who...do. Whatever is the correct phrase.”

“Is is like, ‘others who has a specialty’?” Rama asked.

“Maybe it is ‘others whose specialty is,’” Schneep said. He nodded. “Yes, that sounds right.”

“English. The most confusing language,” Rama muttered.

“Oh, very true,” Schneep agreed.

Jackie laughed. Once. It faded away quickly as he looked around the room. “I don’t know, Volt, I just...feel like I have to get out of here.”

“Well, you can,” Schneep said. “What is the problem you are having?”

“I...it just...” Jackie waved vaguely at their surroundings. “It’s...a house.”

Rama frowned. “Well, there’s not much we can do about that. Except move.”

“I’m not asking to move, Ram,” Jackie said, tired.

“What if you stayed somewhere else for a while?” Schneep asked.

“Like where?”

“Well...” Schneep shrugged. “If you are worried about the ‘house’ part, then I live in an apartment. And it is very open, nothing like a house with rooms.” He waited for an answer. When Jackie didn’t give one, he hurried to add, “Only if you want to, of course, I am not going to make you—”

“It’s a good idea,” Jackie interrupted. “I’m just...a little worried about Michelle. I’ve been gone for so long...would she be okay with...?”

“Jackieboy,” Rama said. “She’s a strong girl. And smart, in an emotional way. I’m sure we could explain to her, and she’d understand.”

Jackie looked down at his hands, sitting in his lap. For a moment, he caught another glimpse of the mangled scars around his wrists. He quickly pulled his sleeves down over them. And looked up at the two others. “I think...this would be good, then. Only temporarily, of course.”

Rama smiled, and nodded. “Of course. When would you want to go?”

“I don’t...know. Volt, when would you want me to move in?”

“Whenever you are ready,” Schneep said. “We could even do it today, I have nothing going on.”

“Not today.” Jackie shook his head. “What about...tomorrow? In the morning?”

“That sounds good,” Schneep said.

“I’ll make a note of it,” Rama said, walking over to the other two and sitting on Jackie’s other side. “Hey...Jackieboy?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Schneep nodded. “And your friends do, too.”

Jackie blinked. And smiled. It was small, but it was real. “Thanks, guys. I love you too.”

It was nice to know that, whatever changed, however he felt, that would still be there.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jackieboy man #dr jackie parker #brigid writes fanfiction #septicswitchau

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p-artsypants · 5 years ago

Text

Longest Night (35) Burning

I had the flu last week! It was super not fun! Make sure to wash your hands and stay home as much as you can! Besides the big bad the flu is also afoot and it sucks!

As I stated in an earlier chapter, I’m a Christian. Because of the nature of this story, I wanted to incorporate some elements of my faith into it. I find it weird to impress my faith on fictional characters, so I usually don’t, but my God is a healer. It makes sense that He’d be mentioned. I’ll probably keep it kind of subtle.

Not this chapter though. THIS ONE GOES HARD. STRAP IN BOYS!!

It’s also REALLY GROSS at parts. Sorry in advance.

(Also, this is creative writing, I’m not really up to theology debates. Please and thank you in advance.)

Ao3 | FF.net

—

“End of the road.” Lady Lacrima said, her face blank and emotionless.

Salo pulled her hand, or rather her wrist, to her chest. “How the hell did he find you?”

Lady Lacrima shrugged. “You must have gotten sloppy.”

“Or you gave him clues! I should have killed you weeks ago!”

“You should have,” Lady Lacrima agreed. “You should have let me die with compassion in my heart. But you didn’t. You created a monster. Two of them.”

Salo spat at her. “You’re a product of Hawkmoth! I only avenged my Eddy!”

“After all this, you’re still justifying your heinous actions. You’re so lost in your depravity, that you can’t even see how low you’ve sunk.”

“So what now?” She sneered. “Now that the roles are reversed, what are you going to do?”

Lady Lacrima reach out and caressed the woman’s face, leaving a smear of blood on her cheek. “The roles are far from reversed, Salo.” She stated, holding out her arms. A buster sword, one bigger than any human could wield, materialized in her hands. “I’m more powerful than you could ever hope to be. And you…there’s no punishment on Earth that befits you.”

“Will you kill me then?”

“That depends…do you believe in God?”

Salo scoffed. “What are you, my Nonna? Go ahead, kill me. Let your God punish me.”

Lady Lacrima adjusted the sword in her hand. “He’ll get his turn.”

Salo’s lip trembled as she attempted to scoot away.

“It’s funny. Without those glasses, you look almost human. And all this time, I thought you were a soulless machine. But if you have a soul…you can burn in hell.” And she slammed the blade down, down through flesh and bone and into the cement, separating her legs from her torso.

The woman screamed in agony, clawing at the ground to escape.

Claws ripped into her stomach, pulling her intestines out and spilling them on the floor.

“What do you think Salo? Should we leave you like this?”

Salo didn’t answer, only squealed and cried out as she writhed on the floor like a worm. Her vision was blurred, but she could see the lights above her head.

Then there was a silhouette, holding out long claws. Claws that pulsed and churned with dark energy. They came closer and closer to her face.

It burned. Hotter than any fire she’d felt before. She heard her skin sizzling and cracking.

Then there was nothing.

No sound, no light, nor breath in her lungs. No emotion fleeting through her head.

And yet—

She was awake. More awake than she’d ever been before. It was like she had been dreaming all this time, and she was finally aware of all that was happening around her.

“Where am I?” She asked, noting the white space around her. Not the billowing clouds she’d seen in Sunday school illustrations as a child. Just a vast infinite of nothingness.

“It has many names, ones in each dialect. We like to call it Hades, or Sheol. Though to you, it would be Death.”

“I’m in...I’m in death?”

“Correct. For death is not a natural state, it is only a temporary condition of the fall.”

“The fall?”

The voice hummed, patiently answering her question. “The fall of mankind. In the Garden of Eden. You know the story, Bianca.”

“I—I do.” She admitted. “I just didn’t think—“

“That it was real?”

“Yeah…”

“What did you think would happen when it was all over?”

She shrugged. “That’s just it. That it would be over. There was nothing else.”

“You are a product of your time. Your eyes were closed to the truth. You had plenty of chances to open them, but they remained firmly shut.”

Bianca raised her hands, finally looking at what had become of her body. No scars, no wrinkles, no calluses, just sooth skin, like a newborn baby.

“Who are you? Can I see you?” She finally asked.

“We’ve never talked, but I’m a good friend of yours. I’ve been with you a long time.”

“Are you my guardian angel?”

The voice laughed. “No. I’m not an angel at all. I’m an antagonist to the angels.”

“A demon?”

“No no, but you’re getting warmer,” it sang, “I will show myself soon, but my name is Death.”

Bianca blinked. “Wait, I thought I was…in Death. I’m in you?”

“I am the state, place, and Lord of Death. I am here, walking with you, all around you, and I am you. But it is beyond mortal understanding.”

Bianca just took a shaky breath, resolved that this was bigger than her, for once.

“You are receiving a wonderful gift, Bianca. A look at the future. Those who perish permanently are not provided with this opportunity.”

“…have I not perished permanently then?”

“Mostly likely not. In the world of free will, there is still a chance that you, and several others will return to Earth for a few more pitiful years.”

“Because…of Ladybug and Chat Noir? Their reset button?”

“That is correct. But until then, you are separated from your body. And I will show you what happens in the end.”

Bianca swallowed as wispy white rolled away. The sky was rolled back like a scroll, displaying the mighty heavens in all their glory. The ground quaked and cracked, falling away to show a growing hoard of lethargic souls, shuffling on with no destination. Bianca stood above on a pillar, just observing them.

“These are the others in Death, they are just like you. But they won’t be returning to Earth. Their lives are over, and ahead of them is judgement.”

“And then?”

“Two options. Up…”

Within the vastness of the sky, a city floated. Walls made of jasper, gates of pearl, and twelve foundations stacked on top of each other, each made of a solid precious metal. There were no lights, as darkness couldn’t penetrate the walls. It was blindingly bright and hurt to look at.

“Or down.”

The pillar grew, twisting to peer over the edge of the world. Below, she saw a pit of fire and smoke, covered with an ancient seal. Inside the pit sat a beast with ten horns and seven heads, with crowns on each head. It looked up to her, licking her lips in patience.

“What is that?”

“The beast which devours all and demands worship. One day, when the seal is broken, the beast will go to earth. He will be exalted as a king above all, and everyone will love and adore him. He is a deceiver.”

“People will worship that?” She asked, incredulous. “Out of fear?”

“Out of blindness. The beast will not appear on Earth like this. May he appear as a man, or as a temptation? That is not for you to know.”

The Beast paced in the pit, its fourteen eyes never leaving her.

“Once it’s reign begins, it cannot be stopped. A prophesy will come to pass, and the wrath of God will pour out on the Earth. After a thousand years of peace, this Beast, the Devil himself, and I will be cast into the Lake of Fire. Those in my arms will be judged, and if their names are not found in the Book of Life, they too will be cast down.”

The pillar grew again, the ground tilting and shifting to move the pit out of the way. And beneath that was a horrible chasm, stretched out for miles and miles, though she could still see the divide clearly. On the other side, a lake, vast and sprawling, but instead of water, it churned with fire. Flames rolling and burning, on and on, hot, and unbearably agonizing.

“And then what?” She breathed. “We burn up, and then are no more?”

“No.” Said Death. “There is no end to the burning. It will go on, forever and ever. You will beg for relief, but you’ll never get it. Every second, you will want to die, but this is the second death. It lasts forever.”

“But that’s thousands of years from now!” She cried, trying to dissuade her panic. “What about now? Do I wander like the rest of them?” She gestured down to the wandering souls below her.

Death smiled. “I suppose you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

The pillar crumbled, pulling her down to the crowd, though no one seemed to pay any mind. Though as her feet touched to cool ground, things started to slip from her mind.

She bumped into a soul. A man who she recognized. “Harken! Oh it’s nice to see someone I know! We have to stick together, the Miraculous Cure is going to take us back soon.”

But Harken didn’t respond, only pushed passed her and continued listlessly onward.

“Death? Why didn’t he recognize me? He died only a minute before me!”

But Death did not respond, so she was on her own.

So she wandered among the spirits. Not really knowing where she was going, or what would happen. Was this it? Milling about for hours until her return to Earth?

That didn’t seem so terrible.

She wasn’t calm, but not panicked either. Nor scared nor bored, just…there. Like a blank slate of her emotions. Even the last few moments of her life on Earth began to slip her mind. She passed faces she swore she knew, names that where common to her.

But none of that seemed important now. Nothing did.

Then with a step, she was in front of a podium, one so tall it loomed over her. Standing at it, was a living creature with the face of a human, with seven wings and seven eyes. It wore pure white linen and a gold sash. On the podium rested a huge book, thicker than she was tall, and four times as wide.

“Name?”

She blinked, the clarity returning to her mind. “Uh it’s Bianca. Bianca Furtoli.”

The being flipped through the pages. Then opened another book, and another. A scroll unrolled from the surface and came cascading down to her, unraveling next to her and continuing off into the distance.

“Your name is not written in the Book of Life.” The creature said simply.

“And?”

“And so The Way is closed to you, for you are unrepentant, and your eyes are closed. Your lips only hold blasphemy, and your throat is like an open grave.”

“Are you Death?” She asked.

“No,” it said, “But it will be coming for you soon. I am an Angel of the Lord.”

“Funny, I thought Angels were supposed to be beautiful.”

“What would there be to fear in beauty?”

“Why do you think people fear me?” She asked, hand on her hip.

“Humans fear you, Bianca, because your reputation proceeds you. You speak with a silver tongue, convincing crowds, manipulating multitudes, and preying on vulnerabilities, like a lion stalks his prey.”

“You’re all so poetic up here.”

“And you don’t fear what’s to become of you?”

“I was killed by an akuma. Once Ladybug does her little magic spell, I’ll pop right back on Earth. It’ll only be a few minutes now. Death told me so.”

“Death must be fond of you. It rarely talks to mortals. It does not discriminate. But take heed child, it is not a friend, for it works for the Lord, but it should not exist.”

Bianca frowned. “It gave me more answers than you’re giving me.”

“What makes you think you’re worthy of answers?”

“Because my Nonna said I was made in the image of God. That’s why.”

“A good answer.” The angel mused.

“Then tell me how I get my name written in the Book.”

“Ask your Nonna.”

She frowned. “I prayed that silly little prayer as a girl. I did exactly what I had to do.”

“You were a child, and had the faith of a child. The repentance of a child. But you have grown, and you haven’t lived up to your vow. You prayed to accept the sacrifice that Jesus the Messiah made for you, and yet you trampled upon all he asked of you to do.”

“What did he ask me?”

“To follow him, and be like him.”

“Well, no one’s perfect.”

“He’s not asking for perfection. He’s asking for you to be forgiving, kind, patient, loving, gentle. To have self-control. To be a light to others in the fallen world.” The book slammed shut. “Not to torture children.”

“Says a lot coming from a god that allows wars to be waged. Cancer to run rampant. Hunger and disease to plague half the world. If he’s so powerful, how has he allowed all this to happen, huh? How come he didn’t stop me sooner, if I’m so bad, huh?”

The angel shook his head, “O Childish Blasphemer, who are you to know the infinite ways of God? How are you, a mere infant in the eyes of the world, supposed to understand these concepts beyond your vapid existence? For now, these horrors persist, but one day, they will cease forever. But the likes of you are unlikely to ever believe that. In the last days, you will be gnashing your teeth, and cursing God, even when he gives you plenty of opportunities to repent.”

“What will happen to me now then? Will you continue to berate me until I go back to Earth? Doesn’t seem very loving to me.”

“I have nothing more to say to you, Bianca. Death will fetch you now.”

The Angel moved one of its wings, and from behind it came a pale horse with a rider. The horse was sickly, with a tail made of serpents, and with a mouth of a lion that spewed smoke and fire.

The rider wore fiery red armor, with accents of yellow sulfur. He had a sickle in one hand, and a whip in the other.

The horse whinnied, thunder roaring from its jaws, instilling Bianca with fear.

“Can I run?” She asked the Angel.

“You can try.”

And so she did. Though there was no where to run in this vast expanse where Death could not find her.

Bianca was halted by the whip cracking around her throat, though the rider never stopped his gallop, and dragged her away. She flailed around, choking as the sky turned black as sack cloth and the moon turned red as blood. She cried as the flesh ripped from her body and blood streaked behind her, carving her path. The many eyes of the wandering souls around her watched as she was stripped naked in all her shame. She was swallowed by the darkness, not even the light of fire illuminating the writhing floor beneath her.

The smell of rot and decay was strong, as vomit crawled up her throat and out. Maggots crawled over her, making a home in her wounds, her ears, her mouth, her eyes. Anywhere they could crawl, they did. Every bite, every pinch, she felt. There was no blurring from one to the other, she felt it all. And all she could do was scream.

She was left to rot, tormented for hours, perhaps days. Flames burst up from below, doing nothing to the worms, but roasting her alive. Burning, agonizing, blistering pain. She rolled around, trying to get relief, but there was just none to be had.

The fire was intense, and she laid there, cooking like a piece of meat on a grill. It was so hot she couldn’t move. So hot she couldn’t think. She gnashed her teeth and screamed and cried on and on.

“Death!” She begged. “Please! Please show me mercy!”

But Death did not answer, and did not show her mercy.

“Water! Please…just a little water…”

Finally, Death appeared on the horse, trampling over her. “Water? You murderer, you rapist, you liar, you thief! Water is what you want?”

“Please! Please I can’t do this!”

“Where were you when they begged for water? When they begged for peace? Where were you when they begged for time and patience? You had no mercy in life, so why should you receive it in death?”

“Please God! God make it stop!”

—

One moment, she was shrieking in agony, the next, her consciousness melted and she laid on cold metal. Her breath bounced off the surface in front of her. She reached her hand out, touching the sides of the metal box she rested in. A coffin?

Did that mean she was going to suffocate and die again?

She was going to—

Burn.

The tears streaked across her cheeks as the memories of that torture returned to her. She had been eaten alive by maggots, and burned. Burned. Burned. It did happen. Indisputably. The wounds were gone, and she was wearing the leather clothes she had been wearing in the catacombs, when she was killed.

Miraculous Cure must have brought her back.

But how long did she have?

She cried out in horror.

A light shone down by her feet, before the surface she was laying on rolled out, and she found herself in a room.

“Bianca Furtoli?” A police officer asked.

She just stared at him for a moment before weeping. “Please! Please help me! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to go back there!”

He turned on the radio on his lapel. “Havoc here, I’ve got Furtoli. She’s just like the others.”

Bianca reached out and grabbed his arm. “I am back now, aren’t I? This is Earth? Paris?”

He pried her hands off. “Ms. Furtoli, I’m going to need you to calm down. Yes, you were dead, and now you’re alive again. I’m sure this must be hard for you—“

“Where’s Marinette? Where’s Adrien? Please, I need to see them!”

“You don’t get to know that information.” He said sternly.

“I need to ask forgiveness! Please, I beg you!”

“Sit down.” He demanded.

“What’s going to happen to me?! Where am I?!”

“Likely, you’ll be going to prison. If not a mental hospital.”

“Will there be a priest there? I must talk to a priest! Please! I went to hell! I was burning in hell!”

“You know what?” He asked shortly. “I think you completely deserve that after what you did to those kids.”

Bianca fell to her knees and sobbed, not even trying to hide her shame or guilt. She just wept and wept.

She wept when the handcuffs went on her wrists. She wept when she was read her rights, and as she was loaded into the car. She cried herself to sleep that night, and every night for the next few weeks. She spoke to none of Edward Savauge’s men. She had no contact with family.

Fear is a terrible state to live in. And for Bianca Furtoli, it meant every day, every hour, she was preparing to return to that awful fire. She would not rest until she found a way to repent.

And for a woman who believed she was a god, that was a long way off.

—

Marinette awoke to a cool hand on her forehead. She shivered under her blankets, but her face felt so warm.

“Hi there, Ladybug.” Said John, setting a cup of water on her table. “You’ve got a little bit of a fever. That’s expected, and it’s not too high.”

“Cold…” She breathed in her half awakened state.

“Of course. I’ll get you a blanket in a second. How is everything else feeling? How’s your pain?”

“I can handle it. It’s mild.”

“Okay, I’m glad to hear that.” He stepped out of the room briefly, only to return with a soft blanket. “Here we go, nice and warm.” He unfurled it, and brought it up to her chin. It was fresh from the dryer, and nice and toasty. “Better?”

“Much.”

“I’ve got some water here for you. Try to drink a little more before going back to sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

“That’s a good girl. I’ll be back to check on you periodically.”

“John?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “Anything for my hero.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #longest night

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