#and she emerged on the other side realizing it was not too late to change and make a new world

[tippenfunkaport]

something something, visited by three spirits that push you to reinvent yourself

and meanwhile, the three mother-type figures in Adora's life were all key to her to figuring out what she really wanted and who she wanted to be but literally...

Light Hope "died" trying to right a wrong from the PAST

Queen Angella died trying to preserve Adora's PRESENT

and Shadow Weaver died to give Adora a chance at a FUTURE

[macgyvermedical]

A Day in the Life of your Character in the Hospital

Yesterday, your character was shot in the lower left side of their abdomen. They were taken to the emergency room and given IV antibiotics, fluids, and then rushed to surgery. Today is their first full day in the hospital.

0600: The surgeon arrives. He's running late and he's pissed about it. Definitely your character's fault. He turns on the light. Without waiting for your character to wake up (he got, like, 2 hours of sleep) he takes the abdominal binder off, revealing a bandage that covers the front of his abdomen. There is some blood visibly seeping through it. The surgeon pulls this bandage off. This is the first time the character sees the new incision. It is probably 14 inches long, and goes down the center of his belly, making a neat little curve around his navel. It is held together with a lot of staples. There is also the place where the bullet went in (and presumably one on the other side where it came out). This is held together with skin glue. The surgeon puts the call light on so the nurse can come back in and re-dress the incision site.

0700: It's been shift change for 30 minutes now, which is how long the call light has been on. A nurse aide comes in and asks what your character needs. She gets a set of vitals and the character asks for pain medication. The incision has started to hurt now that the abdominal binder is off and there i an ache that is deeper too. He also says he's cold. The nurse aid gets him a pair of worn blue scrub pants to wear under his gown and a warm blanket. She says she will tell the nurse that he needs pain medication. She empties his urinal.

0800: The nurse comes in with the pain medication, finally. The character looks at it longingly as the nurse does her assessment, listening to his breathing (breathing in deeply hurts) his abdomen (which seems like forever) and his heart. She takes pulses, asks if he has passed gas yet or feels nauseated. He says no.

The nurse says he has crackles in his lungs, which isn't uncommon for the day after surgery. His temperature is also a little up, but it's also probably because of the small amount of fluid in his lungs from not moving. She hands him a small device called an incentive spirometer and teaches him how to use it. She tells him to hold a pillow against his stomach because it will make him cough. He tries it, it hurts like heck. She tells him to do it ten times per hour. She examines the wound and puts a bandage and abdominal binder back on. Finally, she gives him the pain medication.

0900: The nurse comes back with morning medication. She gives him a medication for his stomach, acetaminophen, and an IV antibiotic, which she explains is given to everyone who has trauma surgery. She says physical therapy and social work will come at some time today and also a cop wants to see him about the person who shot him.

1000: Physical therapy comes in. There are two of them and they are very efficient. One of them walks him in the hall while the other follows behind with a wheelchair. When they get back to the room, he is wiped, but they sit him in the chair and tell him to stay there for as long as he can.

1100: The nurse aide comes by and asks if he'd like to order lunch. He realizes he never had breakfast. "Ordering lunch" turns out to be picking his choice of broth, jello, and flavored ice. He is hungry and asks when he can have real food. The nurse aide says she will ask his nurse.

1200: He "eats" or rather drinks lunch. It is good to have something on his stomach and he's feeling relatively okay thanks to the pain medication. No one has come back to tell him about real food. After lunch, he's really tired and tries to take a nap.

1300: The social worker comes in, wakes him up, and asks a bunch of questions, mostly about if he feels safe at home. Once it's relatively clear this gunshot wound was a one off thing and he won't be going to long term care, she seems to lose interest. She gives him her card and tells him to call her if he needs anything.

1400: The cops come in. There's two of them. They wake him up again. They ask about who shot him. He doesn't have a lot of information to give them and they also seem to lose interest pretty quickly. The nurse aide takes his vitals again. His temperature has come down.

1500: The surgeon's nurse practitioner comes in with his nurse from earlier, opens the abdominal binder again and takes off the bandages to look at the incision site. Nothing has really changed since this morning, but putting on and taking off the binder is a lot of effort and really he just wants to sleep at this point. They ask him how lunch and physical therapy went and he tells them. They ask if he's passed gas yet. Maybe he did? He's not sure. They say they'll probably keep him overnight again for more IV antibiotics and to make sure he can eat. The nurse practitioner listens to his abdomen again, this time it doesn't take as long. They put his bandages and binder back on.

1600: He asks for more pain medication. Once again, it takes about an hour to get. He also gets another IV antibiotic and more acetaminophen. The nurse aide comes by to take his dinner order, which is still clear liquids.

1700: During dinner he passes gas. He puts his call light on to tell the nurse. The nurse aide says she'll pass the message along. A half hour later the nurse sticks her head in and asks if he wants some pudding for dessert, considering it's too late to order anything from the cafeteria but they did change his diet order to full liquids now that things are moving.

1800: He enjoys some pudding and ice cream.

1900: He tries to take another nap, but a new nurse aide comes in to get his vitals again. He manages to fall asleep after that.

2000: He sleeps

2100: His new nurse comes in, introduces herself, does her assessment, and gives him night medications.

2200: He asks for pain medication again.

2300: Just as he falls asleep again, the nurse comes in to take blood. She's a good stick but his arms are already impossibly bruised up from the previous 20 or so sticks he's gotten in the last 36 hours. She still gets him in one try.

0000: He sleeps

0100: He is woken by someone screaming down the hall.

0200: Someone is having a very loud night.

0300: His nurse comes in. His labs came back and his potassium is low. She hangs a bag of potassium on his IV pole and hooks it up to his IV. She tells him it will probably sting, and if it’s too bad to let her know.

0400: The arm with the IV in it aches and he still can’t sleep. The person down the hall has stopped screaming finally at least.

0500: The nurse aide comes in and asks if he would like to order breakfast. All he wants to do is go home.

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

The Two (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which Galadriel fights to withhold Nenya and the Nine, but in the end she fails to stop your husband placing yet another ring upon your finger

Warnings: evil!reader, killing (sorry Adar), allusions to smut, injuries suffered by reader (bad ones but not very graphically described), blood drinking for healing purposes

Note: another one in the evil!reader collection. Shout out to this lovely anon for the inspiration behind a certain bit of dialogue.

This is not exactly where you had imagined you would be on this day—shackles around your wrists and blood marring your brow, being escorted through the woods in a filthy and tattered dress by a band of Orcs. You admit it isn’t the best look on you, but circumstances change, and so you must adapt.

So far, you’d say you’re managing quite well.

Adar is not alone as you reach him in the clearing. Facing him is a blonde-haired Elf with whom you have been itching to meet again, now that she has found out the truth of your identity. Galadriel turns towards the approaching Orcs, her eyes widening slightly when she sees you. She may not have known you all that well, but neither could she have imagined that one of Celebrimbor’s unassuming aids was the one being held dearest of all by the very darkness Galadriel had sworn to destroy.

Adar, on the other hand, had never known you as anything else.

“What an unexpected honor,” he says when he sees you. “To what is it owed?”

You stare him down—the Uruk who had been your husband’s near destruction, leaving you to await his return for what had felt like an agonizing eternity. If looks could kill, he would be in bloody pieces.

It’s Glug, one of the Orcs at your side, that answers him. “We found Sauron. He tried to make us betray you, but we resisted. We lost many,” he shoves you into stumbling forward, “but we got our hands on this one. His Queen, he said,” Glug mocks, and the group of Orcs breaks into a cacophony of snorted laughter. Your face remains impassive as Adar approaches you.

“Indeed, Sauron’s bride herself.” Adar stands before you, meeting your gaze head on. “After all this time, you are still at his side.”

“I am at his side once again,” you correct him coldly, “after you took him from me. For centuries.”

“So long ago, yet your hatred of me has not waned,” Adar muses. “I always wondered how deeply this great love he claimed to feel for you truly ran. Whether you were another of his victims, or some unnatural exception. I can only hope he values you as much as you do him.” He turns to Galadriel. “With any luck, she will be enough to draw him out—”

His words are cut off abruptly, and Galadriel gasps—for the tip of a sword had emerged from Adar’s stomach, then withdrew as swiftly as it had cut through him. He falls to the ground, clutching at his wound, looking up only to see you as you truly are.

Without the illusion, there is not a speck of dirt on you, never mind blood or shackles. You stand clad in elegant battle armour, your bloodied sword held in your hand with the ease and practice of centuries.

Realization dawns on Adar’s face, as you had seen it on those of so many others before, a little too late. “My children!” he calls out, visibly astonished that he even has to. Yet not one of the Orcs move.

“For years, I’ve wondered,” you mock his musing tone from before, crouching to his level and slowly putting your blade to his neck, “would it please me more to kill you myself, or to watch my husband do it? But then, I realized—and he agreed—what end could be more terrible to you than to be killed by that which you love most?”

You stand back up to your full height. To Adar’s credit, he struggles to his feet as well. Even if what happens next is plain to see, before you even speak the words.

“Uruks,” you command, a sinister smile tugging at your lips. “Finish him.”

Your new servants surge from behind you, surrounding Adar and plunging their swords into their former master. It’s poetic, really—an inverted mirror of what your beloved suffered all those years ago, whilst your husband himself walks into the clearing, no longer hiding in the shadows, and recovers the crown that should have been his in the first place from the boulder on which it had been placed. Galadriel doesn’t see him, her eyes fixed on you in anger. It’s a delight to watch it be replaced with dread when she hears your husband’s voice call her name.

By now, Adar has fallen to the ground once more, yet the Orcs are slow to cease their blows. Galadriel is frozen in place as your husband joins you at your side, both of you looking down at the Uruk who has tasted your vengeance.

“My... children...” he croaks out, pitifully.

“They have found new parents,” your husband says, pitiless.

You exchange a look with Glug, and if there was any trace of hesitancy left in him, it vanishes under your demanding gaze. With a roar, he plunges his sword into Adar’s heart, putting an end to him and the killing frenzy of his brethren.

“What orders,” he asks then, his irritatingly pitched voice downright fanatical, “Lord Sauron? My Queen?”

“Raze Eregion,” your husband says evenly. “Leave no Elf alive. But bring me their leaders.”

“Be sure to destroy every single record of Celebrimbor’s works,” you add. “We would not want the secrets of the Rings’ craft revealed.”

The Orcs bow their heads, so wonderfully obedient as they begin to chant, “Hail Sauron, the Dark Lord! Hail our Dark Queen!” They repeat it as if in a craze, still muterring the words in their speech as they scurry away to carry out your orders. Glug, however, lingers by your side.

“Forgive me, my Queen!” He drops to his knees, all but touching his head to your boots. “For the offence I brought you. I only meant to convince Adar of our lie.”

You tilt your head, such an indulgent expression on your face, one might think it was genuine if they knew no better. You put a finger beneath Glug’s chin and lift his head, his bulbous eyes widening in awe as he meets your gaze.

“Earn my forgiveness,” you say sweetly, “by carrying out the task you have been given.”

“Yes, my Queen!” he exclaims, shooting to his feet the moment you release him. “My Lord!” he bows to your husband as well, then rushes after his companions as you watch, deeply satisfied. So this is what it feels like to be worshipped as a goddess. For now, by Orcs—later, by every being in Middle-Earth. The mere thought of it feels like a sip of the most exquisite and intoxicating wine, the elation second only to that sharing in this glory with your husband. You would love nothing more than to bask in the moment, mark it with a kiss, but there is still a pressing matter to attend to beforehand.

And, at once, she demands your attention.

“All this,” Galadriel says, voice thin with held-back terror, “was your design from the beginning!”

“Not all of it,” your husband tells her with eerie humility. “When my beloved came to find me,” he glances to you, letting his knuckles graze a gentle line down your shoulder, “having sensed my presence as I strived to regain my form, we believed we would never be parted again. It was hardly by our design that we were separated in that shipwreck. Once the sea brought you to me, however—”

“—an opportunity arose,” you continue seamlessly, smiling up at your husband, “too tantalizing to pass up.” You turn to Galadriel with a self-assured gaze. “You see, my love and I may be apart in body, but never in mind. And though not even we knew where our paths would lead, we trusted that we would be reunited at the end, and be all the better for it. So, I made my way back to Eregion, where my false life still awaited me—”

“—and I let you take Halbrand there yourself,” your husband finishes. “With a Númenórean army to fight against my enemy, and your trust to help me earn Celebrimbor’s. So, in the end...” A devious smirk tugs at his lips. “One could say it was your design.”

Galadriel purses her lips, keeping them firmly shut. She knows better than to take that bait of self-blame, you can tell. Instead, her eyes dart to her sword, discarded on the ground—betraying her intentions.

In an instant, you both bolt for her sword—and it’s only by a fraction of a second that you stomp your foot on the blade before she can lift it, leaving her to pull helplessly at the handle whilst you put your own sword to her throat. She glares up at you, her words spit out like venom, “You are a traitor to your people!”

A short, sweet laugh escapes you. “I am a traitor to all peoples.” You knit your brow, feigning bashfulness. “How kind of you to notice.”

Galadriel blinks at you, a trace of pity mingling with the disgust in her eyes. “Your mind has left you.”

You open your mouth, prepared to let her know you completely agree, and are rather pleased with yourself—when your attention lands on her hand, drawn there by a glimmer of light reflected off the gem on her finger. Nenya, the Ring of Water, shines before your eyes in all its devastating perfection.

You almost forget to keep your blade at Galadriel’s throat as you crouch down and grab her hand. She flinches, but your grip is relentless as you hold her hand still, admiring the Ring.

“Oh, this is simply...” you murmur, almost tearfully, “exquisite.”

In your long life, the only sight to grace your gaze which held similar beauty was your husband, in any form of his. And perhaps, only perhaps, from a purely aesthetic point of view, the Ring might just surpass him.

The thought, even just in passing, leaves you disoriented. And Galadriel takes full advantage of it.

She moves swiftly. Whilst you are distracted, she yanks her sword from underneath you and you lose your balance, finding yourself face up on the ground, barely parring the immediate blow she aims at your throat. Unsurprisingly, she is strong, making it a real challenge for you to keep her sword at bay with your own, but your mind is now fully present once more and you hold your own as fiercely as ever.

You don’t have to do it for long, however. Your husband’s sword intercedes between yours and Galadriel’s, breaking them apart and forcing her to fall backwards. She scrambles back to her feet, but now she is being attacked by a doubly armed foe, and it is her on the defence, struggling to match your husband’s skillful blows. You’ve stood back up, ready to fight again, but you can’t help taking a moment to behold the glorious sight of your husband fighting. It’s a rather short dance between them, brought to a halt as their blades clash and your husband swings Morgoth’s crown at the place where they meet, trapping both within its iron spikes.

Both of Galadriel’s hands hold the hilt of her sword in a white-knuckled grip, giving your husband a full view of the Ring as well. It tempts his gaze as quickly as it did yours.

“Even more beautiful than Celebrimbor led us to believe,” he says, bemused. “It would compliment your wedding band beautifully.” He glances at you. “Don’t you think, my love?”

As you meet his gaze, you are left breathless with how ardently you want to say yes. To have him place that wondrous Ring upon your finger, just as he did your wedding band all those years ago, and to admire the jewel on your hand as it touches every single inch of your husband’s skin whilst you make love for days and nights on end. You would begin right there, in the clearing, if not for the unwanted company.

Galadriel grunts, breaking away from your husband. Their withering stares remain locked as he circles her widely, coming to stand at your side. Can she not grasp that she is at a disadvantage?

“This is hardly fair. Two against one” you say, trying to sound reasonable. “It would be much wiser to simply give me that Ring, and him the Nine.”

“We do not wish to harm you,” your husband says, in that falsely reassuring tone that has worked wonders on so many others. Galadriel is having none of it.

“Do you wish to heal me?” she asks, defiantly. You would admire her determination, if it wasn’t so inconvenient to you personally.

Your husband proves more patient than you feel in his answer. “We would heal... all Middle-Earth.”

“As you have Eregion?” she growls, face twisting in rage as she readies her sword.

“Well, then,” you sigh shortly and do the same with yours, glancing at your husband, “ladies first, I suppose.”

And so you are the first to meet Galadriel in her attack. For a little while, you are evenly matched, but once your husband joins you shortly after, well—that is a different story.

You have to admit, Galadriel lives up to her reputation as Commander of the Northern Armies and then some. And yet, the fight would have been much shorter if it weren’t for a silent agreement between you and your husband, for the sadistic streak you share that makes you want to draw this out, let her believe she might prevail before you prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that she never stood a chance.

You had almost forgotten the utter pleasure that it was to fight at your husband’s side. It’s no less harmonious or fierce than when you are making love, how fluidly you complement each other’s movements, acting as though you are simply an extension of the other. In that way, you suppose, the fight is fair—Galadriel’s opponent is as one alone, in all but flesh.

The Ring, however, and the Nine whose presence your husband must feel as keenly as you do, prove a distraction. Your blades draw Galadriel’s blood, but the wounds are relatively minor, and she manages to nick your skin as well in moments where your eyes stray to the Ring on her finger, your mind clouded with thoughts of it becoming yours.

You can’t explain how else she manages to gain the upper hand as she eventually does, catching your husband sufficiently off-guard to kick him down from a small height. Your battle had taken you to the ruins of an old stone structure at the edge of a cliff, your husband landing gracelessly in the midst of it. You’re more concerned for his pride rather than his body, however. Panting from exertion, you and Galadriel lock gazes.

“You say you let him use me,” she challenges, taking her chances at riling you up now that you are alone. “Do you know what he offered me?”

“What he pretended to offer you was mine already,” you say, unwavering. “Had been for a long, long time.”

“He seemed rather convincing,” Galadriel taunts, “when he called me his Queen.”

You huff out a chuckle. “How could you not be convinced,” you retort, “when you so badly wanted to believe him?”

You charge at her again. Perhaps she has managed to make your blood boil after all, but it only works against her, because your attacks are all the more vicious as you force her backwards, down a set of stone steps leading to where your husband had fallen.

“I don’t blame you, you know,” you taunt her between strikes, “for desiring him.”

“I did not desire—!”

“Liar,” you hiss, narrowly parrying a particularly rageful swing of her sword. “I quite liked that form myself. Had a certain roguish... charm to it.” The word becomes a grunt as you kick her back into the stone wall, your swords and gazes locked together in a battle of unrelenting wills. “That stubble of his... felt especially pleasant on my skin.” You smile wickedly, voice laden with sinful implications. “Did you never imagine it on yours?”

She must have—otherwise, her eyes would not betray the sliver of shame that they do as she cries out and pushes you off her with renewed strength. You stumble to the bottom of the stairs with a deranged chuckle, putting your fingers to the stinging spot on your cheek and finding it wet with blood. She had managed to cut you.

And she seemed intent on trying to do worse to you, if not for your husband distracting her with something yet more disorienting than your words.

She freezes in place when she sees him standing before her—not as Annatar, but as Halbrand.

“Fighting at your side,” he says, as if from a distant dream, “I felt if I could just hold on to that feeling...”

Words that had once tugged at her heart, no doubt. They are not enough to deter her from attacking him now, but the internal conflict painted on her face is a delight to watch as they cross blades. Your husband changes the guise of Halbrand into that of Galadriel herself, then that of Celebrimbor. Each of them taunting her with the words he knows would cut the deepest, driving her into one attack after the other.

Until the old structure on which they are fighting crumbles, and they fall along with the boulders back to the ground. Your husband is the first to rise, back to the form he had taken as Annatar, and as you meet his gaze, alight with wrath, you both know—it’s time to put an end to this.

Galadriel gathers her sword from where it has fallen, staggers back to her feet, stubborn and determined as ever as the fighting resumes. But there are two of you, and she is more tired. Before long, you have her backed into a corner—or rather, with the very edge of the cliff at her back, with nowhere to go but into a deadly fall to the ground below. She fights valiantly, but in the end the inevitable happens. Half-distracted by you, she is not quick enough to stop your husband from plunging one of the crown’s iron spikes deep into her shoulder. He backs her into a pillar of the stone arch at the cliff’s edge, and in that position it’s too easy for you to knock the sword from her hand, once and for all.

It’s almost sad, seeing such a mighty warrior reduced to cries of pain, sagging helplessly against the stone. When your husband pulls the crown from her, she falls limp to the ground, the satchel containing the Nine slipping from an inner pocket at her chest. Leaning down, your husband finally reclaims his creations, then slips the Ring of Water off Galadriel’s trembling finger. She is too weak to do anything but groan, her eyes fluttering shut in defeat.

“The Rings are ours,” he says proudly. With his opponent utterly defeated, he lays down his sword and the crown on a nearby boulder, then tucks the satchel away within his own robes. The Elven Ring, however, he keeps in the palm of his hand as he leaves Galadriel lying there and turns to you. His steps are slow and measured as he comes to stand before you, close enough to take your hand in his if he so wishes to. But he withholds, his eyes boring into yours.

“My love,” he says, and it feels like a vow. “My Queen.” He holds out his hand, reverently. “Allow me.”

Your chest swells as you place your hand in his. You hold each other’s gaze a moment longer before you both look down and watch as he, with utmost delicacy, slips Nenya onto your finger, right next to the one that wears your wedding band. Your sword clatters to the ground, unwittingly loosed from your grip, but you don’t even hear it. The sight before you is almost too beautiful to behold, making you weep with joy.

“With this, I vow my life to be yours,” your husband says then, voice strained with emotion. “In life and in death—”

“—and for all eternity,” you finish breathlessly, raising your tearful gaze to meet his. The vows you had spoken to each other on the night you had bound your souls together, repeated with equal devotion after all this time.

His brow furrows in awe, and he beholds your face as though he cannot believe you are real. Your Ring-bearing hand trembles in his as he raises his other one to your cheek, thumb gently brushing the skin beneath the cut left there by Galadriel. He leans in and kisses the wound, his warm tongue soothing the pain and relishing the taste of you. You feel it too, sweetly coppery, as he then seals his mouth to yours with soul-wrenching tenderness. And you already know, but it still sweeps the floor from underneath your feet each time you are reminded of the full might of your adoration for him. You would crumble to the ground with the force of it, if not for your husband holding you close.

“Wed again,” you murmur as your lips part, lightheaded with bliss. His smile is soft, his knuckles grazing your temple reverently.

“I never imagined you could be even more beautiful than you already were,” he all but whispers, glancing down at the Ring of Power upon your finger. “Yet as my Queen, your radiance is nearly too great to look upon, even for my eyes. All of Middle-Earth shall bow to worship at my beloved’s feet. All shall love you and despair.”

And you shall love to be adored, yet his adoration would forever be the one you cherish most. You are leaning in to taste his lips once more, when the voice of your all-but-forgotten-about foe rudely interrupts.

“The free peoples of Middle-Earth,” Galadriel declares, “will always resist you.”

With a small sigh, you turn to her. She has managed enough strength to sit up sideways, her glare as defiant as ever even as the poisoned wound left by Morgoth’s—by your husband’s crown slowly consumes her. She’s resilient, fearsome and beautiful. Like you.

Now that she is no longer a real threat, you allow yourself a spark of admiration. Sensing your wish, your husband leaves to break away from him and go to her, lowering yourself to one knee so you meet her at her level.

“I could yet help you heal,” you offer mercifully, knuckles grazing her jawline as she flinches away. “You could yet pledge your allegiance to your King and Queen.”

“Not while I still breathe,” she spits the words obstinately. Predictably.

It seems you’ll still have need of your sword after all.

“This is a waste, truly,” you say, and mean it. “You would have made a great ally.”

Galadriel frowns, as if contemplating your words. “Perhaps,” she admits. “You, on the other hand...” She leans close to you, and hisses in your face, “...would have made a dreadful Queen.”

‘Would have’? You’re about to tell her you already are Queen, and always will be. A taunting smirk is already tugging at your lips—

—quickly snuffed out by a sharp pain, deep in your chest. Jaw slack, eyes wide, you look down to find Galadriel’s hand there, gripping the hilt of the dagger she has plunged into your heart. Nothing but a small blade, most likely conjured from some hidden pocket in her garments whilst you and your husband had been absorbed in each other, and which she had concealed within her sleeve since—it hardly matters. It all happens too quickly for your husband to reach you, and it’s distraction enough that all you can do is gasp as Galadriel grabs you by the shoulders and, with her last of her strength, pulls you over the edge of the cliff along with herself.

Your name, roared out by your beloved, is the last thing you hear as you fall.

*****

You’re alive.

Barely.

You exist somewhere between wakefulness and oblivion, the sounds around you distant and pain threatening to greet you once you have returned to your full senses—if you ever will. But a touch of your husband’s godly nature has resided within you ever since you bound yourself to one another in marriage, and so your form endures, your mind alert enough to serve you even as you lie broken on the ground.

“She should be healed,” a voice says, and you recognize it—king Gil-galad, no doubt come to recover Galadriel from where she must be lying close to you. “And made to face judgement for her treachery.”

There is another presence, yet closer to you. As a hand touches your neck, fingers pressing to your pulse point, you grasp at every last sliver of your power to conjure one small, but vital illusion.

The hand leaves you.

“I agree,” you hear Elrond say. “But she is dead already.”

Relieved and utterly spent, before long you are lost to the world once more.

*****

Your name, whispered softly by your beloved, is the first thing you hear as you wake up.

The next is your own weak moan, pain spreading through your body as feeling returns to you. The room to which you open your eyes is, thankfully, low-lit—you doubt they could handle anything else. But all that truly matters is that you are met with your husband’s gaze, relieved and endlessly caring as he sits at your side, leaning over you.

“Shh,” he cooes, caressing the crown of your head as a tear slides down your temple. “This too shall pass, for I will look after you as you did me in my time of need. I’m here, my love,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’m here.”

The pain mercifully dulls once again, most likely your husband’s doing. This time, you are at peace as you drift away.

*****

It isn’t pain, but warmth and comfort that greets you when you next wake. Your limbs are still weak, your body made heavy with a dull ache all over, but the familiar feeling of being cradled in your husband’s arms overshadows the lingering discomfort. Your head is resting on his chest, and, in natural reflex, you nuzzle into him, lips searching for his skin and pressing to his neck.

“My love,” he greets softly, his pulse a pleasant thrum beneath your mouth. “You are awake at last.”

You lift your head, wincing at the stiffness in your neck, and look into your husband’s eyes. “Did I keep you waiting terribly long?” you ask, finding the strength to work a trace of playfulness into your tired voice. Something in his gaze breaks in the face of it.

“Unbearably so,” he replies in earnest.

There’s no response you find within you other than to press a light kiss to his lips, reassuring yourself that this is real. After, you allow him to carefully maneuver you so that you are both sitting up against the headboard, with you still tucked into his side.

“You are nearly recovered, my love,” he says as you grimace and shift, looking for a comfortable position for your aching joints, “but your strength will return with time. Until then...”

He offers you his hand, his black blood already spilled from a cut in the palm of it. It’s fresh, different from the one he had used to provide the false mithril for the Nine. This sacrifice he has made for you alone, to mend his beloved piece by piece. You don’t need him to explain all of this—you simply offer him a grateful smile as you cradle his hand in yours and bring it to your lips, kissing it almost as you would his mouth as you gather his blood with your tongue.

“There,” he says hoarsely, eyes fluttering shut with the great pleasure of feeling you consume him, any part of him. “Take my strength,” he urges, cradling your head as you drink from him. “Make it yours, my love.”

The effect may be temporary, but the relief is instant. You pull away, sighing pleasantly as you wipe your thumb over any lingering droplets of blood on your lips, and lick those off your finger as well. You feel almost as new, as if you had never even taken a blade to the heart and a shattering fall.

The memory sends a jolt through your chest. Instinctively, you bring your hand to it, looking down at the place where Galadriel had managed to stab you. The wound has been healed, but the spark of rage is kindled within you once more. And it grows into a wildfire when you notice your horribly bare finger.

“Where’s Nenya?” You scramble from your husband’s arms and off the bed, gripped by a sudden, blind panic. “Where’s my Ring?” you demand, nearly a growl. His gaze becomes grim.

“The Elves took it back,” he says darkly, standing to face you. You huff out a furious breath. So, Galadriel succeeded, then. She recovered the Ring, even if it meant taking all of you along with it. Even if she was risking her own death.

You sincerely hope she survived the fall and the wound inflicted by your husband’s crown. Otherwise, you would have no revenge to look forward to.

“And Eregion?” you ask, scrambling for some victory to which to cling in your rage. “Our army? What of it?”

“We are in Eregion,” your husband tells you, adding proudly, “what is left of it. As for our armies... nearly all Middle-Earth is ours for the taking.”

“Nearly?” you frown.

“The Elves have used the Three to create a sanctuary beyond my reach.” His voice drips bitterness. But as he steps to you, taking your hand in his, he seems more disturbed than vengeful. “Had I found that they had taken you there... where I could not follow...”

You soften, then, your anger tamed by the torment in his gaze as he trails off. You wonder if, within this sanctuary of the Elves protected by the light of the Three, you could still feel your husband’s dark soul caressing yours even from afar. The thought that you might not, that you had been at risk of suffering such an appalling emptiness, is sickening.

“It is well, then,” you say, chasing away the dread of what might have been, “that I led Elrond to believe I was dead. That is why they took only Galadriel.”

“My love.” Your husband smiles, pride swelling in his eyes as he cups your cheek. “Clever and fierce, even as you lay broken.”

“I knew you would find me,” you say simply, as if nothing more had been needed. But then you sigh, and take hold of his wrist, lowering his hand from your face. “But our victory is not yet complete,” you say sullenly. “The Three are free of your influence and beyond our reach.”

“Do not despair, my love,” he is quick to reassure. “The Seven have known my touch. We have the Nine. And very soon...” Something sparks in his eyes, cunning and mysterious. “...we shall have more.”

You raise a brow, intrigued. “More?”

He nods, brow knitting slightly as he begins to explain. “You told me it did not sit well with you that I had used only my blood in the making of the Nine. You were right, my love,” he admits. His gaze drops to your hands, his thumb brushing over the empty spot where Nenya had been. “And so,” he says, locking his gaze with yours, “it shall be with your blood and mine combined that we will forge the Two.”

The words linger in the air, ominous and captivating even before you fully grasp their meaning.

“Two Rings,” your husband continues, wrapping your hands in his and bringing them to his chest, where you feel his heart beat as furiously as yours as he speaks. “Born of our flesh and love, inextricably intertwined with one another. Whose power shall be as fierce and eternal as the devotion between you and I, greater than that of all the other Rings. Great enough to bind them in the darkness we share, and to rule them all. One for their King...”

“One for their Queen,” you whisper, the words falling from your lips as if they had always been there. Always locked behind your tongue, written in your fate, meant to be spoken in this very moment. This feeling, the things of which he speaks—it is all so intoxicating, a design too perfect in its terrible splendour to imagine it being brought into existence.

“Is that possible?” you ask, cautiously.

“If it is not... then we shall make it.”

And when he says it like that, gazing so deeply and so fiercely into your eyes, you believe him.

“Will you join me in this act of creation, my love?” your husband beseeches, so desperately hopeful. “Will you stand at my side?”

There is only one answer that could ever leave your lips. But first, you lean in and capture his in a deep, ravenous kiss, the taste of him both remedy and fuel to the delirium surging within you.

Creation. Not meant for Elves, or Dwarves, or Men. Not crafted through the deception of Celebrimbor, or even so much as with another’s aid. The very embodiment of your entwined souls, brought into being and meant to be worn by you and your beloved only.

The fruit of your union.

You break apart, opening your eyes to find the same all-consuming desire reflected in your husband’s. And once again, you speak the vow that shall very soon become inscribed upon the gold of the Two.

“For all eternity.”

Previous fic with same reader -> Defied

[tiddygame]

ok look, my meds are making me feel Funky again but…

after soap is released from the hospital, he moves back in with his parents, everything already having been taken care of.

ghost moves in as well, but it’s a much slower and much more gradual affair.

sure, simon spent every second he could at johnnys side, but he still didn’t live there or anything. and he didn’t intend to leave his stuff behind, but he was called in for an emergency and didn’t have time to brush his teeth, much less gather his things.

and he was going to take his stuff back to his flat, but mrs. mactavish insisted that it wasn’t a problem and that it might be easier for him to just leave some stuff there for when it happens again.

and since johnny is… well… unwell, it might be a good idea to change his emergency contact too. and of course mrs and mr mactavish are more than happy to take care of it!

simon doesn’t even stop by his flat any more when he’s on leave, heading straight to the mactavish house as soon as he’s cut loose

johnny is getting better, slowly but surely. there are a lot of steps back and some days are a lot worse than others, but simon breaking several laws just to call him when he’s on a mission is a nice reminder that no, simon didn’t leave him, and is actively fighting to get discharged so they can be together.

johnny mentioned that sometimes listening to simon’s voice is the only thing that helps him sleep, so simon leaves voicemail after voicemail so that even when he can’t properly call him, he can still talk to johnny

.

mrs mactavish had been doing the laundry when they knock on the front door. she knew what it meant when the officers apologize as they remove their hats with a sorrowful look.

she was borderline hysterical, refusing to believe it. mr. mactavish tried to console her, but he wasn’t doing too great either.

they don’t know what to tell johnny. they can’t tell him. how could they? he was finally getting better and now they’re expected to tell him that those voicemails from simon are the only thing he has left?

they consider waiting until the funeral arrangements are being discussed, but they knew it wouldn’t end well. they figure brutal honesty was better than the betrayal he’d feel if they tried to keep it from him.

when they m tell him, he just laughs and says he’ll believe it when they recover the body.

his parents sigh, and nod. they figure it’s best to leave him be, at least until the funeral.

but lo and behold, barely a week later, simon appears on their porch late one night with his arm in a sling.

he was grumbling that being caught in a building collapse and missing exfil shouldnt be enough for him to be assumed dead, but is cut off when mrs mactavish hugs him.

he was surprised, just apologizing for making them deal with the whole dead/undead thing, but she was still crying and refusing to let him go.

he didn’t know what to do and just awkwardly returned the hug with one arm, patting her back as he tried to figure out what the hell was happening

it wasn’t until mr. mactavish pulled him into a hug as well, muttering something about how he’s glad simon is safe, calling him son, that he breaks.

he hadn’t had a family in so long and he doesn’t know what to do. but mrs mactavish does, saying that he must be hungry and getting him something to eat.

johnny just laughs, both at his parents for assuming he was wrong about the body recovery thing, and at simon for taking that long to realize that he’d been abducted adopted by the mactavish family, telling simon that his fate had been sealed the first time johnny brought him home

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt#148 Part 3

It had been a few weeks since Danny got back to Amity park and he was still a little nervous to text Damian.

He could tell Damian was getting a little nervous and impatient with how slow he was taking to respond.

That and every time he felt like he had a moment, something like another ghost attack would happen. That and the GIW announced their campaign to enact something they called the Anti Ecto acts, effectively making his existence illegal. 

“Get back here ghost scum!” His mom shouted at him. Danny dodged an ectoblast as he flew away. His parents had been very persistent about catching him lately. If he was being honest it worried him a little.

Danny landed in his empty living room and changed back. Before he could do anything, the door to the lab bursts open and Danny’s dad is standing there with an ectogun pointed at Danny. 

“I knew those security cameras would come in handy” he boasted as he turned the dial up on the gun, “I hope those acts get passed, ghost scum!!”

Danny, fearing for his life, fled the house changing back into Phantom. He headed to where he knew was a small abandoned house with an emergency bag but before he could make it he felt a sharp pain in his side. 

His Dad was known to be a poor shot but not his Mom, and as he looked back at her piercing eyes he knew exactly what shot at him. “Get back here Imposter!” She shouted after him.

Danny turned invisible and made his way unseen. 

He got to the  abandoned house shortly after and found the emergency bag. He shakily wrapped his side with a bandage and used his ectoplasm to reform his suit. He took a few calming breaths before he stood up and put the backpack on his back. 

 He wasn’t sure how but he was going to find his soulmate and tell him everything. He hated how his parents reacted and he didn’t think he could handle if the same thing happened but he needed to know. 

He spent the next few hours flying and before he knew it he was in Gotham. 

Landing on a roof Danny took a few moments to catch his breath. He put pressure on his side and laid his head back on the side of the stairwell leading down. 

He changed back into his human form and unfortunately that meant he needed to re-bandage the wound in his side. 

Once that was done he packaged everything back up in his bag and brought out his phone. 

He could tell Damian was getting worried about him, the shock and betrayal Danny was feeling was something he couldn’t really control or hide.

He sighed and let his head thump against the wall behind him.

He should probably just call Damian but how exactly he’d explain about everything that just happened… but that would mean telling him the other things too and he just didn’t know if he had the courage for that just yet. He took another deep breath and then opened his eyes to see the smog covered skies. That was one bad thing about Gotham, no stars. 

He then took another deep breath and stood up and walked near the edge of the roof and looked down. 

He was way up probably 7-8 or so stories high. The cars down below go about their daily lives giving no mind to the kid on the roof way up high. 

He watched for a few minutes mulling things over. Then he heard a soft thump behind him. He turned around and found Nightwing had landed on the roof. 

“It’s dangerous up here, would you mind stepping away from the ledge?” He said but there was an edge to his voice like he was genuinely scared Danny might do something. He guessed the vigilante’s in this city really cared about its citizens. 

“Don’t worry I wasn’t going to jump or anything, just trying to clear my head…” Danny tried making his tone as even as possible. The wound in his side throbbed painfully and made it a little hard for him to concentrate. Whatever Mom hit him with did more than just singe his side. 

Unfortunately Nightwing seemed to have noticed Danny was in pain, “Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

The word hospital rang out in his head for a moment before he realized that wasn’t exactly an option, “Yeah, no… I’ll be fine, I just got to figure out exactly what I need to text my soulmate… I’ve been procrastinating because he seems like an amazing person and I kind of hate to admit I’m kind of a failure that ran from home.” Danny forgot who he was talking to for a moment as he rambled. It felt nice to finally let some of what’s been bothering him out. He took a calming breath before continuing, “I can’t risk them calling my parents.” 

“Alright well, unfortunately you're not in Gotham just yet, we’re in Bludhaven. Can you tell me what their name is?”

Great so Danny can’t even fly to the right city. He took another calming breath, “Damian Wayne.”

Master Post:

Last:

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Coworker (part 2)

Tw: Afab and fem reader, Cyprus doesnt take no for an answer and keeps you in his apartment

masterlist, part 1, part 3

You woke up with the biggest hangover of your life. Your mouth was dry and your head was pounding against your skull, you could feel the alcohol from last night sloshing around your stomach.

You squeezed an eye shut while the other struggled to focus on your surroundings. This is not your bedroom.

Your blood runs cold upon realizing that you're not in your work clothes. But an oversized shirt that's exposing one side of your shoulder and reaching to your knees. Cyprus must have changed you last night, god knows what else he did to you while you're that vulnerable.

There is a ceiling fan above you that clearly hasn't been cleaned for a while. Old, ripped and yellowed posters of famous fighters were plastered on his off white walls, they're not even straightened. A pair of red boxing gloves were hung on the side of his wardrobe, whereas his suitcase is on a lone table by the corner.

You could hear something sizzling outside, it must be Cyprus cooking.

You got out of his bed and exited his room, gulping and bracing what's to come.

"Morning." He gruffed. You scanned the room and saw that it's a modest living room with a small kitchenette away from the main door. It's a bit bare, just a couch, a TV on a wooden stand, a dining table that fits four and a printer awkwardly pressed against a wall. It was resting on a stool.

There is a tattered punching bag in the corner, hanging from above. It has definitely seen better days.

You noted that he has two pedestal fans and another ceiling one, but no air conditioning.

You turned your attention to him, he was plating the food on some paper plates. Cyprus picked them up and turned around, tilting his head towards the table. You tried to ignore the fact that he's half-naked, only wearing a pair of shorts. You knew that the majority would salivate over his oddly unscarred, sculpted body and veiny arms. There was a healthy, bushy happy trail on his abdomen, looks like he had let them grow rampant.

You went ahead and sat down on one of the chairs. He placed a dish down in front of you before taking a seat himself.

It's toast, sausages and eggs, cooked the way you usually prefer.

"You told me last night, this is how you liked your eggs." He mumbled, digging into his own breakfast which consisted of the same items, just in more quantities fitting to his stature. "I hope I can trust the Drunk You."

You went straight to the point and asked what happened.

"We didn't fuck, if that's what you're asking." He nonchalantly told you as he stabbed his omelet with a plastic fork. "You puked all over yourself, so I had to change you before bringing you to bed."

You were astonished at the difference in his language at home, compared to the one at work.

You asked what the time is. You're going to be late for work and you cannot afford to lose this job.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he chewed. "Relax. I called in sick for you."

He did what now?

"I took an emergency leave off work today too. We're free until Monday." He continued, acting like this is a totally mundane topic to talk about.

You rubbed your face, dreading the day where you're going to have to face your coworkers.

"What's up with you?" He asked, staring at your flustered face. "And eat up, your plate is getting cold."

You asked him how he called in to tell your manager that you won't be coming in.

He shrugged. "Pick up the phone. Dial the number. Call. Hang up."

You said that wasn't what you meant, you asked what he told your boss.

"I said you were too sick to come in. What more do you want from me?"

You asked if you provided context behind his words. He couldn't just possibly do that on your behalf can he?

"I told Jane it was none of her business. All she needed to know was that you're not coming in and so am I."

Jane, the devil you and everyone else on your floor call a manager. He wouldn't have let that response slide if you were to do the same.

And she is a gossip super spreader. You're sure the entire building is already making their own speculations about the relationship between you and him.

You stood up and paced around, trying to expel the nervous energy you built up. Cyprus looked at you quizzingly as he munched on his toast.

You ask how he is so calm about all of this, does he not care about being the center of gossip when he gets back?

"Fuck them. I don't care what they think." He turned his focus back to his plate, stabbing more food and shovelling it into his mouth.

But you do. You didn't tell him that, though.

"Damn, sit down. You're always so jumpy. It's just me and none of Jane's crap you have to face at work." He complained. You still fidget with your hands and walk around in short circles.

"You know, I always wondered if you're as jittery when you're not in the office. I guess this confirms it, you are. How could you live like that, always feeling on edge twenty-four-seven?" He pushed his glasses back up, his grey eyes trailing your every move.

You told him that you have to go home. You have something to do, mumbling about chores and other weak excuses.

"That can wait. We should talk more." He brought his hand up to your arm, firmly grabbing them and trying to lead you back to your chair.

You said no, you have to go.

"You and I know it isn't urgent. Come on, sit down. I'll reheat your breakfast up for you." You managed to slip out of his loosened grip.

You asked where your phone, clothes and belonging are.

"They're in my apartment. Safe and intact. You'll get them, don't worry. Just, sit." His patience is thinning but you're too frazzled to notice.

You said you have to check your emails to see if Jane-

"Park it!" Cyprus barked as he rose up from his seat, pointing at the empty chair opposite of him, causing you to flinch at his raised voice. You hurriedly followed his command and sat down.

He sighed. "You really need to stop thinking about work."

You kept your lips sealed as you trembled. Fearing Cyprus. As promised, he took your plate to be reheated in the microwave. You wonder if it's safe to be microwaving a paper plate.

While that's happening, he pulled out two empty glasses from his cabinets and a jug of juice from his fridge. He sets them on the table and poured you and himself some.

"Christ, you're so shaky. Loosen up!" He snarked.

You said you have no idea how to approach this situation, it's completely new and you're being caught off guard. How are you going to relax when you don't know what to expect?

"Well, first off. I'm not going to hurt the girl I'm trying to get with." He walked to the microwave as it beeps. "That's you, by the way. If it wasn't already painfully obvious." He sarcastically remarked, pulling out your steaming plate.

"Here you go, princess." His tone was softened and endearing as he placed your plate in front of you once again, it's mildly soggy but still in one piece, holding your food. You reluctantly picked up your disposable plastic fork and ate, since your stomach was grumbling.

He returned to his seat and continued his breakfast too.

"Secondly," Cyprus gulped his food down. "I want you to tell me more about yourself, and I'll talk about my life."

You didn't respond to him, still warily watching him as you ate.

"I'll go first." He set his fork on his plate. "My name is Cyprus. Cyprus Andrea Rodriguez."

That explains the "R" in your Valentine's Day note. You found it amusing that his Initials spell out 'C.A.R'.

"I work in finance. You know that." You nodded.

"I smoke. I like my coffee black. I drive. I cook." He started rapid-firing facts about himself while counting his fingers. You already knew all these.

You asked him about the boxing gloves in his room. He smirked and leaned back against his chair, bringing his arms behind his head.

"Not so fast, your turn to tell me about yourself, pretty girl." You coughed in your hand to try and hide the fluttering of your chest upon hearing that nickname.

You also told him things that he already knew. You worked on the same floor as him, you do not smoke, you like your hot drinks a certain way and you like your eggs like how you're eating it right now.

He pursed his lips. "Pfft. Boring. I want to know what you do after work."

You said you would go home and scroll endlessly on social media. Or do more work.

"You're not fooling me, doll. I know a generic to-go reply when I hear one. I'm not your coworker here, you can tell me."

You thought about it. Yes, you would go to dinners and gatherings with your friends and other colleagues, but those aren't usually for fun. They're for keeping up appearances. Aside from that, you would just rot with your phone.

You told him that you would go out with friends.

"Who?" He brought his hands to his side and leaned towards you, now very interested in knowing your social circle.

You said he wouldn't know. It's no one from work. You quickly switched the conversation about his boxing gloves again. It seems like he wanted to say something else, but he ended up disclosing about his hobby.

"I box in my free time. It's a good way to release all that pent-up stress from dealing with Jane's shit on the daily." You eyed his deformed ears. Then you asked him if he does it for money too.

"Yes. It's one of my side hustles." He scraped the remainder of his eggs from his dish.

You asked what he was doing at the bar last night.

"Ah, ah. Your turn to answer my question, pretty girl. What were you doing at the bar last night?" He narrowed his eyes at you.

You said that you felt like drinking and going to the bar outside office hours. Was that so wrong?

He stared at you for a bit before replying, "You don't seem like the type."

You asked what he meant by that.

"You were never great at handling your own stress, doll. I know you don't like the smell of bars and the taste of booze. You were there as a 'last-resort' type of act, and I bet it's because of the guilt for standing me up."

While that is true, you don't necessarily appreciate Cyprus calling out as it is. You would very much prefer to remain in denial.

You said he has a good point. Then you proceed to ask him why was he there, in that one specific bar out of thousands in the city.

"I was there for a boxing match."

A match? Where?

"Somewhere." He was vague in his answer, you can only assume that it's nearby. "Next, what do you do on the weekends?"

You do not like these questions. They make you reflect upon your life.

You said spending time with friends, rot on the internet, or work. The last part made Cyprus grimace in disgust.

"The last thing on your mind during the weekends should be Jane's bitching. Work? Really?" You shrugged, saying that you're trying to save up enough for... you actually don't really know what you're saving for at this point. You're just doing what everyone is doing.

"You know you can't bring all that cash with you when you're dead, right?" He stood up, taking the empty disposables with him. Cyprus chucked it into the trashcan in his kitchenette.

You disregarded his last sentence and asked him about the paper plates and disposable utensils.

"They're cheap, and I don't have to do the dishes." what an interesting way of living.

You asked about his plans over the next three days. A flash of fear crossed your mind when you remembered you had to face your coworkers on Monday. They are going to ask all kinds of invasive questions and you're going to have to speak like a politician.

"What do you want to do?" He asked, leaning against his counter and staring down at you.

You said you wanted to pack up and go home.

He lets out a loud buzzing sound from his vocal cords. "Wrong answer, I'm not done with you yet."

You asked if you could at least have your clothes back.

"Later. They're in the wash."

You asked where is the wash.

"Downstairs."

You asked if you could go downstairs.

"Nope."

Why?

"It's lame down there, I'd have to say hi to my neighbors. And, I want to talk to you alone."

You asked if you can have your phone.

"Nope."

Why?

"It's charging."

Where?

"Not telling you." He pulled out a pack of smokes from his pocket and switched the stove on to light the cancer stick up.

You said you need your phone.

"To do what? More work? Dream on, I'm not helping you waste your life." He placed the cigarette into his mouth. Cyprus walked up to the window and blew puffs out of it. Occasionally he tapped his cigarette to knock the ashes off it.

You said you just need to check it. Someone might try to contact you in the event of an emergency!

"Trust me, it's nothing important. They're all from Jane." He took another drag of his cig.

You asked when will he be "done with you".

"When I feel like it."

You fell into silence, trying to think of something else to ask.

"I like you." He said, supporting himself over the windowsill with an arm. "You don't play that fake bullshit with me, you don't try to kiss my ass or fuck me over either. I like that a lot."

You watched him enjoy his smoke.

"You don't go around blabbering with a huge mouth. You're the only one in that damn building who minded your own business and respected me. I liked that."

You don't think you're any less nosy than your coworkers. But it was fascinating to see yourself through his eyes. Was that how you came off? You just didn't give a crap about Cyprus because he was antisocial and most likely wouldn't help you advance or destroy your career.

"And you're so fucking cute too. I had to snatch you up before anyone else did. But I couldn't lay it too thick, you and your reputation among the other mindless drones. I would have scared you off if I gave you roses in person, those pricks would have made a huge deal if I signed your letter with my full name." He stubbed his finished cigarette against the ashtray on the windowsill. Cyprus turned around and moved to the chair, he pulled it out and sat on it.

"I guess I came on too weak. It's fair. You wouldn't have known your gifts were from me. Did you like the chocolates? They were selling out fast, I knew I had to grab one for you."

You said it was nice, not knowing how to respond to his long rant.

You blurted out a question, asking him how he would define the relationship between you and him.

"You're my girl, duh."

You didn't know how to ask the next question without sounding rude or condescending, you wanted to ask what made him think you agreed to it. But no matter how you try to frame it, your question appears as a rejection. You didn't have to ask to have it answered, since he deduced from your uneasy expression.

"Fine. Deny all you want." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Let's see how long that lasts."

You decided to rip the bandaid out and told him you're not interested in a relationship. You tried to convince him that you were not worth the effort, but your words entered one ear and out of the other.

You were interrupted by a hearty laugh erupting from his throat. It soon died down, Cyprus leaned closer, and he lowered and deepened his voice to a husky growl.

"You should know, that once I set my sights on you, there is no stopping me." His piercing grey eyes struck terror in your heart. "I am a dogged man, princess. I do whatever it takes to get the girl I want and I don't share."

You're uncomfortable, this is a completely different Cyprus than what you're used to. You missed the quiet man who would keep his distance from everyone, not this menace.

You're going to have to figure out how to deal with your new unwanted lover by Monday.

[mysaintkitten]

Little Secret | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

prompt: neil is your sisters boyfriend, but that doesn’t stop you from developing a slight crush on him (this is based off a suggestion that was sent to me !! thank you to whoever sent it !!) (NSFW, NO MINORS!)

WARNINGS: veeery slight age gap (unspecified ages but reader is implied to be younger, everyones legal), cheating, loss of virginity, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie

word count: 3.8k

neil and your sister had been dating for about 4 months now, still very much in its fresh-honeymoon stage. in those 4 months, you two had been around each other a few times but hadn’t really spoken to each other directly. you’d be in the same conversations, but that’s really all that would happen.

it wasn’t until somehow, the two of you were left alone in the living room of your house a few hours before your parents were planning to hold a family gathering, neil being your sisters plus one. you’re sitting on one side of the couch and he sits on the other, you’re physically as far apart as you can within the couches armrests. your sister had temporarily left due to a minor emergency situation, she had realized that she had no solo cups or paper plates for the family gathering tonight, and your parents were at the liquor store buying alcohol for the gathering.

for a while, you just sat in silence. if you were being honest, you thought neil was pretty cute, but you felt so guilty about it. so you just tried your best to avoid him. he was just a few years older, nothing significant that would make people look twice, but the more dominating factor was that he was with your sister. whenever you felt yourself staring at him, or tweaking your appearance when he’d look away, you’d remind yourself: he’s with your sister.

as the two of you sat in silence, he eventually breaks it by blowing a weak raspberry through his lips and stirring up a conversation,

“sooo …” he starts, eyes scanning around the room before bringing them to you, “see any interesting movies lately?” he asks, you refrain from chuckling. of course he’s asking about movies. but, it’s his main interest and he’s trying to be nice, so you engage.

“uh, yeah, actually!” you respond, looking down at your hands in your lap was you fiddled with your thumbs, “watched fantastic planet, i thought it was really cool.”

“wow, really?” he responds, his words almost sound sarcastic, but when you look up at him he has a partially impressed expression on his face. you blush slightly, temporarily basking in the fact that you gave him an answer he approved of. your sister wasn’t as in to movies as either of you were, which was a bit of a tolling factor on his relationship with her.

“i like fantastic planet too, you seen any other french films? like la haine?” he questions, his body language becoming more relaxed,

you perk up slightly, “yeah! i loved la haine!” you beamed, turning your body inwards to face him better, you did really enjoy cinema but you didn’t have anyone to talk about it with.

he smiles at you warmly and then scans you up and down, before he can say anything you hear the front door unlock and your sister comes in, “oh, my god! you won’t believe what i saw!” she exclaims from the front door. his gaze stays on you for a few more moments before he breaks it to go help your sister out with the bags. you watch him as he leaves. you feel an uncontrollable smile spread across your lips and you scurrying up to your room, not wanting to face your sister and be reminded of the fact that these feelings are guaranteed to lead to nothing.

once upstairs, you start getting ready. you shower and shave, change into a nicer outfit, a cute little dress. overall modest, but showed enough to hopefully peak neil’s intrest, and do your hair and makeup.

you’re patient, making sure you look as nice as possible, nearly missing the beginning of the get together to finish getting ready.

as you’re putting your earrings in, you’re subconsciously thinking about what neil would like. does he like slutty? does he like modest? you don’t want to make it obvious, but you want him to like what he sees.

after a few drinks, it sets in that the gathering is a bit of a let down. neil didn’t look at you once. it was almost like he was avoiding you. the conversations were boring, and you were tired of asking the same dull questions about your life and your future. you decided it was best for you to just sneak back up to your room. your parents and sister were enjoying the company, you didn’t want to kill their vibe.

once in your room, you strip yourself of your dress and slip into a loose tee and some pyjama shorts, proceeding to climb back into bed and scroll on your phone.

suddenly, your bedroom door swings open, and there neil is.

you both stare at each other, “oh, sorry, i thought this was the bathroom.” he said, blatantly lying, he’s been to your house numerous times, he knew exactly where the bathroom was. but how’d he know which room was yours? had he been doing trial and error without you knowing?

you break eye contact and glance around your room trying to figure out what words to say, feeling a blush creep across your cheeks, you notice in your peripheral that he’s walking into your room now, beginning to shut the door behind him,

“uh, well ..” you start, “it isn’t, i can take you to the actual bathroom if you’d like ..” you joke lightly, attempting to calm your own nerves, he smiles at you,

“that’s alright, i don’t really have to go, anyway.” he responds, looking at all the small trinkets you have scattered throughout your room, “why’d you leave?”

oh, so he did notice you.

“i guess it just wasn’t really my vibe .. things didn’t go exactly as planned i suppose.” laughing weakly, again, just trying to break the tension. you’re not even sure if there’s actual tension or if it’s just your nerves, either way, you’re trying to calm yourself down.

“what did you have planned?” he asks, he’s standing directly beside your bed at this point, picking up and toying with little things he’s found on your nightstand.

“uhh ..” you murmur, trying to conjure up a believable lie. you can’t just say, “oh, i tried my best to look hot so you’d look at me, but you didn’t, so i went upstairs.” so you settle with, “i just wasn’t expecting every conversation to revolve around my future, you know? i mean maybe that’s excepted of older family members, they just want what’s best-“ you ramble, and you realize you’re rambling way too far into your sentence.

“sorry” you giggle, he grins at you and chuckles softly, “in summary, the conversations were tedious. i’d rather just be in my room.”

he sighs, “yeah, i get that”, he places the small objects back on your nightstand and adjusts them to how they were before he picked them up. then, to your surprise, he sits on the edge of your bed, “your sisters having a nice time talking with the other girls, i felt a bit out of place so i told them i was heading up to the bathroom, they didn’t really notice though.” he adds, his comment about your sister brought you back down to earth. oh, yeah, my sister, your girlfriend.

you shift away from him slightly, feeling yourself becoming antsy. he had never been this close to you before, he had never been in such a personal space with you before, neither of you knew each other like that, yet here you were.

“oh .. haha ..” you mutter, your eyes are actively avoiding him, you’ve convinced yourself that as long as you don’t look at him he won’t realize how nervous you are. as if he read your mind, you hear him say, “wait, look at me.”

you gulp slightly and shift your head and your gaze towards him, making direct eye contact with him. his eyes drift down to your lips and he brings his thumb forward, gently swiping it against the edge of your bottom lip.

you don’t breathe, his eyes on you and his thumb on your lip is a bit much for your psyche to handle, your eyes shift away, keeping your head in place for him.

he notices your eyes shifting and he chuckles, “what? am i that hideous?”

your eyes widen slightly while looking back at him “no, no no! it’s not that!” you explain frantically, “it’s uh … kinda ..” you start, your voice trailing off as you realize what you were just about to admit to him. he doesn’t let you stop though, he continues to pry.

“kinda … what?” he asks, raising his brows, “kinda .. the opposite.” you choke out, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you definitely can’t look at him at this point.

you shift away from him more, tucking your knees up to your chest, the silence is eating away at you.

“look, i’m sorry, i think you should go, i shouldn’t have-“ you blab, desperately trying to dig yourself out of this hole you’ve created.

“(y/n), (y/n), breathe, it’s alright.” he coos, placing his hand on your shoulder in attempt to calm you down, “no shame in a little attraction, we’re only human, after all.” he adds, rubbing your arm gently.

“but you’re taken, neil ..” you whisper, “by my sister, at that!”

he doesn’t really respond to that, he returns to his original point, “we feel how we feel. you can’t control that.”, as he speaks he brings himself closer to you, his torso is mere inches away from your tucked-up legs.

“you know ..” he says, staring down at your bed while tracing small patters on your comforter with his finger, “actually i don’t think i should say ..” he laughs weakly. your curiosity peaks. “no, go on, i had to say what i was thinking, it’s your turn.” you coax, relaxing your body language a bit.

he sighs, “well .. you aren’t too bad yourself, not bad at all actually ..” he looks back up at you, shifting his gaze between your eyes and your lips. your hearts pounding, you’re worried he might be able to hear it, “oh, stop .. you’re just saying that ..” you mumble, nudging him playfully.

“i’m not!” he laughs, “really, i think you’re very attractive .. you probably get that all the time though.”

you scoff and cross your arms in front of your body, “definitely not ..”

his brows stitch together in disbelief, “what? you’re telling me you don’t have guys trailing after you constantly?”, you shake your head no. he huffs and scoots closer, directly beside you now.

you chat for a while, almost completely forgetting about the gathering and the fact that your sister, his girlfriend, is downstairs, but neither of you care at this point. you begin to discuss your shared interest, movies.

he brings up trainspotting, and you nearly lose it, unleashing all of your retained trainspotting-knowledge onto him.

he can tell how into it you are, he watches you attentively as you ramble, making sure to nod every now and then so you know he’s listening and following along.

“and you know, for the toilet scene, they actually used chocolate an-“ you’re cut of by his lips on yours, you immediately forget whatever trainspotting trivia you were about to say to him, which knowing his love for film, he probably already knew all of the facts you told him. but he sat and listened anyway.

he pulls away, and he smirks slightly at the surprised expression on your face.

“neil ..” is all you can manage to mutter out before his lips are back on yours again, kissing you a bit more deeper, testing his limits. he pulls back again for a moment, “is this alright?” he hums, his lips nearly grazing yours. “my sister ..” you whine, he just chuckles and kisses you again. at this point, you’ve fully pushed your morals aside.

his kisses start to get deeper and his tongue starts to explore your mouth, you moan at the new sensation, you hadn’t been intimate with anyone before and things were moving rather quickly.

his lips move over to your cheek, down to your jawline and then to your neck where he suckles on the skin softly while creeping his hand between your legs.

you grab his wrist and halt his actions, “neil, i’ve never done this before ..” you confess,

he groans into your neck, his hot breath sending chills throughout your body, “i’ll be gentle, sweetheart ..” he mumbles, licking a flat stripe onto your neck before continuing to place his wet kisses on the skin. he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the thought of stripping you of your innocence made him harder.

you’re undeniably wet, your mind is racing, neil’s mouth, his hands, his cock, your sister, your family downstairs, you can’t focus on one distinct thing until you feel neil’s fingers slip into your panties.

you gasp quietly, feeling his skilled fingers toy with your pussy, “no one’s touched here before?” he asked, pulling his head out from your neck to look down at his hand in your pants, using his free hand to palm his aching bulge, “n-no .. just me ..” you whimper as he starts to rub small circles onto your clit, he smirks before whispering “ever think about me when you touch yourself?”. you nod, biting your lip, screwing your eyes shut to avoid looking at him.

he chuckles lowly, “dirty little thing .. lemme get these off”, he takes his fingers off your clit and hooks them into your waistband, you whimper in disapproval at the loss of contact. as you lift your hips to aid him in the removal, you lower them back down and spread your legs, bending them slightly.

he falls silent and your eyes open back up, you see him crawling to get between your legs, your holes are on a perfect display for him, you’ve never been so exposed in front of anyone before, but you’ve also never felt so aroused.

as his eyes scan you wet pussy, he brings his fingers back up, sliding his middle finger up and down your folds, “touch yourself for me, baby, i wanna see.” he purrs, teasing your opening with his finger. you whine, placing your hand between your legs and rubbing your clit timidly, a bit embarrassed to be doing it right in front of him. as you start to touch yourself, he begins to fuck you with his finger, watching as you clench desperately around his lone digit.

he’s absolutely infatuated with you, as you stare down at him between your legs he looks almost hypnotized.

“wish you had told me sooner .. would’ve touched you ages ago ..” he groans, adding another finger in, you whine slightly, stopping the movements on your clit.

neil shoves his fingers fully in, keeping them knuckle deep inside of you, “did i say you could stop?” he breathed, gently running the tips of his fingers along your leg.

you resume your movements, and he speeds up his while smirking “good girl.” he praises, he shifts onto his knees while keeping his fingers inside you, he brings his hand up to your face and cups your cheek.

he runs his thumb along your cheek sweetly before bringing his thumb to your lips, brushing against the skin, “open.” neil nearly whispers, you comply, sucking his thumb into your mouth.

you bat your eyelashes at him and suck his thumb in the most seductive way you can, despite having no experience, he likes what he sees. “jesus, (y/n) ..” he mutters, twisting his fingers inside you while trusting them in a bit harsher. “shit, neil!” you moan around his thumb, “you want more than my fingers, sweetheart?”, you whimper and nod, “hm? use your words, baby.” he hums.

you whine, “y-yes, i want more than your fing-ers ..”

“what do you want to fill you up instead?” he pries while taking his thumb out of your mouth and bringing that hand down to palm himself, smirking like the smug little fuck he is, you whimper louder, shifting your hips in front of him.

“neil ..” you huff, he just chuckles “come on, tell me what you want in that little pussy.”

you can barely manage to get the words out, embarrassment and arousal battling within your brain, but thanks to neil’s sweet little touches and words- arousal wins.

“y-our cock ..” you whisper, turning your head to the side. he groans quietly, “my, what, sweetheart? speak up.”

“your cock, neil!” you mewl, your desperation flooding all your other senses. he chuckles, “good girl, was that so bad?” he jokes before taking his fingers out of you, leaving you feeling empty, as he undoes his pants and hastily tugs them down. his hard cock springs out, you’re a bit intimidated by his size. he’s not huge, but he’s definitely big, and you’ve never had sex before, so your nerves were definitely starting to act up.

he scoots himself forward and lines himself up between your legs, rubbing your slick up and down with the head of his dick.

“aw, you nervous?” he teases, you don’t respond, you just whine, “you’ll take it all, like a good girl, huh?” he coos, sliding himself inside you slowly. “what about protection, neil?” you mewl, he laughs, “what, you think your sisters dirty, or something? i’m clean, darling.”

god, he’s disgusting. before you can respond, you gasp loudly at the stretch and slight burning sensation, “oh my ..” you huff, forgetting about whatever you were just bickering about. he hasn’t even bottomed out yet. he pauses for a moment, still only halfway inside you, to lean his body forward and place his hand beside your head, placing small kisses on your lips and cheek.

“doing so good, just a little more ..” he moans, using his free hand to rub your thigh soothingly.

finally, he bottoms out, you look down between your legs and then back up at him. he’s blushing himself, and he has a stupid little grin on his face. “feels nice ..” he groans before sliding himself out a bit, quickly thrusting back in. you moan at the mixture of pleasure and pain, feeling so incredibly full by neil’s cock. he speeds up more, making your moans louder and your body twitch beneath him. “god fu-ck, neil!” you nearly shout, he brings his hand up from beside your head and covers your mouth, “i know it feels good, sweetheart, but you gotta be quiet, okay? can’t let everyone downstairs know you’re getting pounded up here.” he taunts, knowing exactly how his thrusts are effecting you.

“mhmm!” you whine from underneath his hand, he moans and his shoulders go slack, “so fucking tight ..”

you grip the wrist of the hand that’s over your mouth, grunting and whining into his palm, while exhaling harshly through your nose.

he takes his hand off your mouth and moves it to your neck, gripping the sides gently. you stitch your brows together and watch him fuck into you through half-lidded eyes. “how does this feel, baby?” he purrs, dragging his nails along your thigh with his free hand.

you moan, not loudly, but loud enough for him to hear.

“good .. ‘s so good ..” you whimper, finding it hard to speak due to the circumstances.

“think you can come on my cock for me, hm?” he grunts, bringing his lips to yours before kissing you sloppily. you not as best you can and moan against his lips, neil takes his hand off your neck and brings it between your legs and promptly rubbing your clit, making you moan even louder again this lips.

“neil! shit!” you whine, clenching around him involuntarily. he moans weakly, placing his forehead against yours.

“‘m gonna come .. god, fuck!” he groans, pumping into you harder while continuing to rub your clit, you’re close too- but so close that you really can’t verbalized it. you just hope he knows, and he does. with a few breathy moans, he’s coming inside you. he pauses for a few moments to pull his body back up, but his thrusts don’t slow down, he’s maintaining his rough pace while rubbing on your clit, eager to get you to come for him.

“drench my cock, sweetheart, show me how good it feels.” he praises, looking down at himself fucking you.

you don’t need much more than that, you’re coming around his cock and you’re coming hard. harder than you ever have. maybe because prior all your orgasms had been from your own hands, but neil’s hands and words and cock gave you an orgasm that was unlike anything you had felt before. your mind goes blank and your body tenses up, small huffs and ‘fuck’s falling from your mouth as your orgasm crashes through you.

“there you go .. that’s it .. all over me baby ..” he coos, watching in fascination as you come undone on his cock.

once you’ve ridden your orgasm out, he pulls his softening cock out, making you wince, “sorry, i’m sorry ..” he mumbles, running his fingers along your thigh calmingly. “god, look at that ..” he groans, mostly to himself, as he spreads your lips apart and watches as the come behind to spill out of you. he gets up off the bed and begins to button up his pants, adjusting his appearance in the mirror before heading to the door.

“i’ll get you a wet rag and get you cleaned up, after that i’ve gotta go back downstairs.” he says, his hand already on the doorknob, “wait!” you respond, he turns his body to face you fully.

“what was that? what’s this?” you ask, leaving the question rather vague for a reason, “i mean .. i would like to keep this going .. i won’t tell if you won’t ..” he whispers slightly, as if nows the time he needed to be quiet. you would like to see him more often, you wanna feel how you felt more often. so you nod, “okay, i won’t either.” you whisper back.

he smiles, “sounds good. can you swing by my video store sometime this week? we could chat, watch a few films ..” he bubbled, seemingly giddy at the idea of spending time with you. “yeah, definitely!” you grin back as he heads out the door to grab the wet rag.

the post-nut clarity begins to sink in. you just slept with your sisters boyfriend. how are you ever going to face her again? how awful of a person can you be to do something like this? what’s done is done, you tell yourself, you’ve already been an awful sister. so fuck it. let’s keep this going.

——

it’s 3 am heeeeyyyy

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 6: Flooded and Shut-Out Memories

Ƒҽąɾ ìʂ ահąէ ʍąҟҽʂ ą Ƕմʍąղ Ϛҽղէìҽղէ, ìƒ ղօէ էհҽղ... Ⱥɾҽ վօմ ҽѵҽղ հմʍąղ ąէ ąӀӀ?

Dante stopped talking for a moment, something wasn't right.... He needs to find Danny quickly, Dante wandered around the Gala Venue and he couldn't seem to find Danny.

Dante hid in the men's restroom for a moment and then in the mirror of the bathroom a sticky note remained plastered, a bright neon green he will always never not recognize.

Dante took the Note with haste and read the words written, it made him furrow his brows in worry and anger, his eyes flashing a bright neon green with red rimmings.

"It's all for Daniel's Happiness....."

"Fucking Clockwork- that BI-..." Dante held back his anger and crumpled the note before stuffing it deep in his pocket, he tries to change his face expression as to not make anyone get scared because Danny wouldn't have wanted that.

Dante stared at himself in the mirror slowly calming down, his hair's flames slowly turning back to normal hair and his eyes slowly fading down to a normal green. Dante fixes his tie as he walks out of the restroom, furious that he even let Danny walk away from him. His hand balls into a fist as he walks around both calmly but hastily, he found Vlad who was chattering around some other rich influential people.

Vlad glances at Dante and Dante gave him The Look which in turn made Vlad excuse himself promptly away from the crowd, he carries Ellie gently away from the table of treats.

"What is it? Where is Daniel?" Vlad asks with worry laced in his voice, although subtle he is still very worried. " I can't find him, use the tiny pink Badger to find him." Dante stated bluntly as he pulled out Clockwork's Note, "the Bastard who's Bitch is Time sent this." Dante handed the note to Vlad, Vlad read it slowly and blinking to backtrack what he just read before realizing what clockwork possibly meant.

"Ellie, Princess, will you find Daniel for us?" Vlad kneels down to Ellie's height, Ellie nodded and giggled before running off as soon as she was told a 'favor'.

Dante and Vlad nodded at each other before Following Ellie's little tiny running steps, Danny was infact in the other side of the hall chatting away with Damian Wayne who Vlad told not to interact with but oh well too late for that now.

"Danie—" Vlad was about to speak out to call for Danny but then.

A gas canister seemingly fell out of the higher floor right near Danny. Damian out of Reflex upon seeing a gas canister immediately wrapped his hand's around Danny and jumped back as it promptly blew up, green gas leaked into the room sending everyone in the perimeters In a panic, the three half dead ghosts reflexively stopped breathing. But Danny isn't used to that yet so he covered his nose as Damian literally tries to run through the crowd with Danny to get him to safety.

But more gas canisters fell, surrounding them as each of them exploded one by one releasing even more gas.

Most of everyone was prepared as they brought an emergency gas mask, Danny does not have one.

Vlad and the 2 pink Badgers were given gas Masks even tho they don't need it, but they continued their search for Danny, hoping to find him in the crowd.

Ellie was floating and invisible trying to find Danny, She wasn't so successful as the gas clouded her vision rendering her completely unable to find him. Danny on the other hand was with Damian.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Put this On" Damian tries to convince Danny to put on the gas mask. "But that's your only one! I'll be fine!" Danny just pushes the gas mask back at Damian's Face.

Damian needed to get Danny to wear the mask immediately as the gas was closing in fast. But Danny suddenly grabs the mask and puts it in Damian's Face And Clamped it down as the Gas closes in on them.

"Danny-" Damian was stunned as Danny's eyes flashed a neon green, Danny was also stunned. His human heart beating unevenly at a fast pace, Danny gasps for air inhaling more of the gas as Damian tries to get him out of the gas.

Danny's mind was foggy, he saw Damian holding him... Is it Damian— he doesn't... Remember....

Danny could hear the beating of his heart through his ears, it was loud and impending as if it was beating for the last time, Danny's mind slowly fogged with memories.

Memories of his death, he looks up trying to tell Damian he's hurt but all he sees Infront of him was the portal.

The portal his parents had made and had not yet been opened, he stared at his hands, he was wearing black gloves and he hears Sam and Tucker telling him to be careful going inside.

He felt his body...? No. Soul move towards the portal, No. 'I don't... I don't wanna go. please... It hurts..' Danny thought as he tried to pull himself away from the portal but he just wouldn't budge.

And then.

He tripped and heard a click as he stumbled down and pressed himself on the wall to not faceplant.

For a moment he looked up and all he saw was Green.

Everything.

Everything hurts.

The voltage running through his veins.

His blood.

The ectoplasm seeping in his DNA slowly fusing itself with each other to try and keep him all alive.

Yet somehow being alive hurts more than being dead.

It hurts.

Ꭵ𝐓 𝓱ยя𝐓丂 丂Ø мยĆ𝓱.

He heard tucker and Sam yell out his name, he felt his skin burn but their gentle touch on his body as well, he felt the tears dropping in his face coming from his friends as the voltage continued to run through his delicate body.

He heard jazz Crying out his name trying to wake him up, the worry in her voice felt drowning but comforting at the same time, he felt her hug his body despite not seeing it.

It was warm... Unlike his own.. unlike his flesh and bones.

He is a a child who did not deserve to feel such pain.

A child.

Who's name is Danny.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Danny Screamed from the top of his lungs, Damian was taken aback.

"H-HEY!" He tried to calm Danny down but Danny kept screaming, curling up and gripping on his shoulders and anything in his body he could touch, it was as if he's in immense physical pain that Damian could not understand.

Damian got Danny out of the crowded and Gas filled Halls and Trying to snap Danny out of his fearful trance, Danny's scream slowly became irregular in tone as if he's phasing in and out of reality.

Danny scratches on his body and suit arching himself as he screamed in pain, his eyes flashing green to blue and a white pair of rings appear on his body, slightly phasing in and out as well his appearance inverting everytime it does.

"Damian!" Bruce called out in worry as he heard the screams coming from Danny.

"Father!" Damian called out, his face contorted to a mix of worry and fear in itself as Danny continued to cry out..Tears were rolling down Danny's cheeks as Damian clutched him in his arms trying to prevent him from hurting himself even further.

"I think... He's a meta and the fear gas is doing something to him!" Damian said as Danny Slowly Calmed his body, exhausted and losing consciousness.

His body completely shut down due to the memories his brain is trying to shut out. Damian ca korried Danny out of the gala and into the outside of the venue where He saw the 'Masters' running to them with haste.

Damian was scared... For the first time in so long in his life he was scared for someone else, Danny's heart has slowed down in a rare that's not normal for a human being. His body was cold and it's almost as if he's not breathing at all.

"DANNY!" Dante Jamie Masters called out as he ran to them. Damian almost stepped back as Dante took Danny gently yet also unexpectedly from his arms. It was odd. Dante didn't have a mask but he was obviously submerged within the gas along with the other 'Masters' yet there were completely unaffected by the Gas.

The police arrived shortly after and restraining in everyone who was affected by the gas, Dante stayed by Danny's side embracing him both gently and tightly holding back the tears that are on the edge of his eyes.

Ellie stayed by his side too holding Danny's other hand as he remained unconscious, yet his body twitching partially due to the shock and the effect of the ectoplasm and the fear toxin trying to fight each other and due to his body phasing in and out of life and death.

It hurt him, Dante knew it.

Dante knew that it hurt Danny so much... And he wasn't able to prevent it this time, But next time he will.

He swears to god he will prevent it next time, he swears to his soul that he will prevent it.

Robin and Batman arrived at the scene and Robin immediately ran to Dante and Danny.

"Is he okay? W-we can take him to the hospita—" Damian stopped speaking as soon as he saw the three flinch when they heard the word "Hospital".

"N-No... No hospitals please... He doesn't like it..." The little Ellie says, Robin looks at Batman who was still talking to the cops as Scarecrows failed attempt to invade the gala was overthrown by a single mistake of a canister falling.

He was arrested once again and soon to be back in the Arkham Asylum. Despite that it still made Robin furious.

He turns his head back at the trio but before he could speak he was interrupted by none other than Vlad Masters.

"Please do not worry, Robin. We have... A personal Doctor that Daniel Trusts in our home. I promise you he will be in utmost care." Vlad says, his voice filled with worry but also wariness.

He stared at Robin as if he was a suspicious entity, or something. Someone to not be trusted too much.

Robin could only nod but felt Someone touch his hand.

It was the little girl, Ellie.

Ellie puts a pink star sticker in his glove right above the Aries Star Constellation Sticker Danny had put.

"For your comforts- maybe.. I don't know! But... Danny says to put stickers on people who are doing a good job." Ellie smiles gently, although she was wary of Robin she still had the guts to walk up to him and put the sticker on his hand.

Robin was merely stunned but quickly got back to his senses and pats Ellie's head gently. It's as if these siblings brought out a soft side to him that he never even knew existed.

»»———-ℕ𝕠𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕖'𝕤 𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞———-««

"𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕞...." Nocturne greeted Danny who was sobbing his eyes out in a dream like state. Nightmarish even, as so Nocturne Decided to get him out of his mental hellhole as per requested by someone and also by his own favorable accord.

Nocturne was only contacted by none other than Clockwork himself as preparation for when Danny enters a state of mind where he cannot force himself to wake up essentially forcing his physical body to... rest.

Although the way Clockwork does his stuff for his so called "Dear Grandson" is not very much commendable, it's still a way he supposes. Truly not the best but there's always a worst for anything.

"Nocturne...?" Danny's voice was soft, broken even, it made nocturne's core wrench but he kept his good mysterious smile and slowly approached Danny but Danny stood up and embraced him.

Nocturne merely embraced him back as gently as he could.

"𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕪, 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕞." Nocturne replied with a small chuckle, he's annoyed at himself for having slowly finding favor in the ghost child but not that he hates it and neither can he go back to the way he did before.

"I'm sorry... I'm just.... So scared.." the little Phantom sobbed in his arms, Still wearing his tiny aurora borealis looking ice crown.

Nocturne chuckled and pressed Danny's Nose.

"𝕀𝕥'𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕞, 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕕𝕠 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕥." Nocturne smiled wider and ruffles his hair gently and pressed his forehead subtly against Danny's.

Danny just nodded and buried his face in his chest as he slowly fell asleep in nocturne's arms.

Nocturne then slowly placed his head in his lap and caresses his hair gently letting him sleep and rest peacefully without the nightmares for now.

["𝕀'𝕞 𝕥𝕠𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕘𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕗𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣." Nocturne muttered to himself with a mischievous grin.]

[moonlight0934]

You're No Better

Damian flings a notebook at Tim, who just dodges with a laugh.

“What was that? Your aim is terrible.”

Damian huffs, and turns away.

“I’m just kidding anyway. Your people skills are fine. The cops are absolutely the problem as they have been for every single Robin.”

Damian hums, somewhat satisfied with the conversation. He had been telling Tim about how rude the cops were when he was on patrol, and Tim had jabbed at him that it was probably his lack of people skills.

“Anyway, you shouldn’t take anything the cops say to heart. Most of them are either stupid or high all the time.”

“What if they’re not the only ones saying it?” Damian asks quietly.

“What do you-” Tim is cut off by their phones buzzing in unison. “Barbara set off the alarm, but there are no details.”

Damian opens the notification, but there’s seriously nothing attached.

“I guess we should head down to the cave to see if we can reach her over comms. Maybe she butt dialed us again,” Damian suggests, and Tim shrugs.

“On my day off too. Though I guess it’s better than being at work and getting an alert.”

Damian smirks as they walk down the stairs together. Bruce is already on the line when they get down there.

“Can you ask Gordon what the problem is?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

“I tried, but he’s not answering. I can tell you that nothing obvious is happening, because no one is freaking out. There’s no sign of any major psychopaths, but Dad just stopped answering. I’m worried about him.”

“We can go check it out. I’m with Robin,” Tim replies, leaning against the desk that the computer sits on.

“That would be great. I’ll send you the address of the distress signal now,” Barbara says, sounding relieved.

“Be careful. I can’t get out of work right now unless it’s an emergency,” Bruce says, his voice tight.

“We will be as careful as humanly possible,” Tim says, rolling his eyes.

Damian bites his lip to stop himself from smiling at his family’s drama. He goes to change while Tim waits for the location. He’s fully ready by the time Tim goes to change. The location is right on the outskirts of town in a mostly abandoned area. In fact, WE is planning on doing something with that part of town though Damian can’t remember what it is that they’re going to do. It’s a quick trip since they’re on Tim’s bike.

“Put your mask on. The air quality in this area is atrocious right now,” Tim says, putting a hand on top of Damian’s head.

Damian makes a face, but puts his mask on. Tim does the same, and they head to the building that Gordon sent the distress signal from. The fog is really thick through that area, making it hard to see. Damian stays on his toes, straining his eyes to see through the smog. Tim is right beside him until they actually reach the building.

Then he says, “We should split up. I’ll take the door on the opposite side of the house, and you take this one. I don’t know why the Commissioner would be in a condemned house, so we should be careful.”

Damian nods, then waits for Tim to walk around the house. He gives him plenty of time to reach the other door before he opens the one in front of him. As soon as the door opens, something hurdles straight at Damian’s face. He ducks, but it still manages to catch his jaw. As soon as he straightens back up, he realizes that something is very wrong. The world is spinning, and he can’t seem to see more than a couple of feet in front of him. He blinks hard, and shakes his head.

The darkness only gets worse, and eventually it completely takes over his vision. When he wakes up again, he’s in the cave again. He’s on one of the cots, but he’s not only still in uniform, but his hands are covered in blood. There’s dried blood on his boots, and flecks up his arms.

“What?” he whispers, looking down.

Jason walks in, leaning against the doorway.

“Well, you finally woke up.”

“What happened? I only remember going into the house.”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Damian. It’s too late for that.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to. Can you just be straight with me, Todd?”

“You’re just like your family, aren’t you?”

Damian is confused for a second, wondering which one of their siblings he’s comparing Damian too. When Damian realizes what family Jason is talking about, it’s like ice was poured down his back. He bristles, immediately trying to shut himself off from the situation.

“There you go again. You’re no better than they are, and you’re no better than you were when you first got here. You’re just better at masking now, aren’t you? You’re a murderer, Damian, and you did it again.”

Damian looks around.

“What is going on? What happened, and where is Timothy?” Damian asks, his voice tight and scared.

“Tim’s in surgery right now. You weren’t fast enough, and you left him without backup. Then you killed everyone else there. Why is that always your first response to your own inadequacy?”

Damian sniffles, trying to take in a breath. Jason rolls his eyes.

“Again with the drama. You are so predictable. I’m going to get Dad, because I do not want to deal with you.”

Damian pulls his knees up to his chest. He’s shaking, and it’s actively getting more difficult to stay still by the second.

Timothy isn’t ok. I killed someone? I don’t remember killing someone. Could I still kill someone and not even remember it? What is Father going to say?

Bruce walks in, his eyes scanning Damian with a disappointed look on his face. Damian doesn’t say anything to defend himself, or even explain. He doesn’t cry, or beg.

He just stares straight at Bruce and asks, “Are you sending me back?”

Bruce sighs as he sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Yes. I’m sorry, but we’ve tried everything. I can’t allow you to do those kinds of things in my city.”

“But you allow Todd to stay. I don’t even know why he’s mad at me.”

“Don’t talk back to me. You’re going home to your mother. The difference with Jason is that I’m not responsible for what Jason does anymore. You live in my house, so you have to follow my rules. You’ve proven that you can’t, and I can’t trust you. I am sorry Damian, but I can’t work with you if you don’t work with me first.”

Damian nods, still shaking like a leaf. He’s not sure why though since he can already feel himself shut down. Normally he’d be running on autopilot by then without any physical signs that he’s not ok. He doesn’t let it bother him too much since his mind can’t move past going back to his old life. 

Dick sighs as he steps away from his desk to answer a call from Barbara.

“Hey, Barbara, what’s going on?”

“I can’t get a hold of your dad right now, and I think Tim and Damian are in trouble.”

“What’s going on?”

“There was a distress signal from my dad, but he just showed up at my apartment. He said he never sent it out, and I don’t know who did. Your brothers aren’t responding, and apparently your dad isn’t at work anymore. No one knows where he is either.”

“Send me Tim and Damian’s location. I’ll head there now. Dad can take care of himself, so he can wait. Can you call Jason too? He can probably get there faster.”

“Yeah, ok. I’ll do that now, and I just sent the location.”

Barbara hangs up before it even comes through. Dick races to the location, but it still takes him half an hour to drive there. Tim’s and Jason’s bikes are outside the building already though there’s zero motion from inside. Dick slips a comm in his ear.

“What’s the situation, Hood?”

“We’re a few buildings down in the really big community center. Batman is already here, but Red and Robin are both out of the game,” Jason says, the sound of gunfire in the background.

Dick runs to the community center. Tim is in the lobby, his head bleeding, but he looks otherwise ok. Dick keeps going to find Jason and Bruce fighting an ungodly amount of goons in the other room. He helps as Bruce slips out of the room.

“Scarecrow went that way,” Jason explains as he shoots the last guy.

“Should we go after him? Also, where’s Robin?” Dick asks, trying to catch his breath.

Jason flips his comm on.

“Batman, you need help?”

“No, take care of the boys.”

“Hood.”

Jason points to the corner where Damian is curled up. His head is tucked into his knees, and he’s shaking. His cape covers most of his form, but it’s still not hard to tell how hard he’s shaking.

“Did he get-?”

“Gassed? Yeah, we think so. Red got hit in the head, but we think Robin got hit with the actual toxin. He hasn’t let anyone touch him yet, and we got jumped before Batman could really try anything.”

Dick walks over, kneeling down a few inches away from Damian.

“Hey, Robin, can you hear me?” Dick motions Jason over. “Get some of the anti-toxin out.”

Jason pulls some out while Dick reaches out to Damian. Damian flinches, but doesn’t pull away when Dick touches his arm.

“Come here, Baby Bat,” Dick whispers, pulling Damian closer to him.

Damian doesn’t resist, or fight him. He just goes limp in Dick’s arms. Dick holds his hand out, and Jason offers him the syringe. Dick is careful when putting it into Damian’s arm in case he freaks out. He doesn’t, and stays still against Dick aside from the occasional shudder. Dick scoops Damian up as soon as he’s sure that the serum has had time to work.

“We need to get them back to the cave,” Dick says quietly.

Jason nods.

“I’ll get Red, and we can take your car.”

They barely get back to the lobby before Damian starts to quietly whimper.

“Shh, it’s ok. I know, buddy.” Dick turns to Jason. “I can’t imagine what he was seeing with all of the horrors he’s had to endure.”

Jason shrugs, kneeling beside Tim.

“Hey, Red, you’re not going to freak out and punch me in the jaw, are you?”

Tim scrunches up his nose, but doesn’t open his eyes. Dick frowns, realizing that Damian’s shuddering is getting more and more pronounced. He looks down, brushing a few locks of Damian’s hair off of his forehead.

“Jason.”

Jason stands up, walking over quickly. Damian’s face is red, and he’s panting now. He’s shaking really hard, and Dick gently sets him down.

“I think he might be having a seizure,” Jason says, pressing two fingers to the underside of Damian’s jaw.

“Why?”

“I guess it’s a new strain. The serum must not have fixed it. What should we do?”

“I guess give him another one, and hope that it overpowers it. Can you call Leslie or Alfred so they can meet us there?” Dick asks as Damian finally starts to go still.

Jason nods. He calls Alfred, putting it on speaker phone. He grabs Tim, and heads outside. Dick gives Damian another dose of anti-toxin before picking him up. He unlocks his car as he walks out. Jason is holding Tim in a bridal carry as he talks to Alfred. Dick opens the car door, and motions for Jason to put Tim in the passenger seat. Jason does, and Dick climbs into the back, still holding Damian. He puts Damian on his side with his head in Dick’s lap.

He’s stayed oddly quiet and calm for him to still be hallucinating. Dick presses his fingers to Damian’s pulse point as Jason climbs into the driver seat. His heart is beating far too fast, and now that it’s quiet, Dick can tell how strained Damian’s breathing is.

“Hurry up, Jason. He’s really struggling.”

“I know, I’m trying.”

He speeds up, but Damian starts to shake again as they’re pulling into the cave.

“He’s having another seizure. Go get Leslie, or Alfred.”

Jason climbs out, running as soon as his feet hit the ground. Dick just gently brushes his fingers through Damian’s hair, making sure that he stays on his side. The car door opens, and Leslie appears on the other side. Jason is behind her, and he looks just as scattered as Dick feels. His hair is stuck up from all of the running and pulling his hands through it. His eyes are darting between Tim and Damian quickly.

“Jay, he’ll be ok. You just need to calm down,” Leslie says, holding a syringe out to Dick. “Give this to him if he’s still having an active seizure.”

Dick nods, then gently presses the needle through the costume. Damian’s seizure abates almost immediately, but he also lashes out at Dick less than thirty seconds later. The heel of his hand smashes into Dick’s jaw, almost taking part of his tongue off. Dick grabs his wrists.

“Calm down, Dami. You’re ok, but you need to let us help.”

Damian whimpers, dropping back into Dick’s lap. Dick picks him up, and slips out of the car. Leslie takes some blood to analyze what’s in his bloodstream already.

“Get him set up in the infirmary. I’ll give him a few things to help with his blood pressure and possibly bring down his heart rate.”

Dick sets him in one of the beds, then unclips his cape. He gently unlaces Damian’s boots and takes them off too. Bruce comes in a few minutes later to Dick holding Damian gently. His heart rate is still high, but Dick is trying to soothe him the best he can.

“Is he ok?” Bruce asks, his voice soft as he walks over to them.

Dick shrugs.

“I don’t know. We can’t tell what he’s seeing. He’s been quiet and still most of the time, but he did manage to hit me in the jaw earlier.”

Bruce nods, putting a reassuring hand on Dick’s shoulder. He lets his other hand rest on Damian’s leg. It’s still another hour before they’re able to put together something that will work, so Dick and Bruce stay with Damian for that time. Damian starts crying as soon as he wakes up, pulling away from Dick and Bruce. Dick and Bruce exchange a quick look.

“Damian, it’s ok. It was just fear gas,” Bruce says softly, reaching back out to Damian.

Damian doesn’t move, but he keeps crying.

“I don’t want to,” he sobs, pulling his knees into his chest.

“Dami, it’s ok. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Whatever you saw wasn’t real.”

That seems to click because Damian peeks over his knees at them.

“I don’t have to leave?” Damian asks, breathless and sad.

Bruce pulls Damian into his arms.

“Of course not. We’re nevering going to send you away. You’re my son, and I love you.”

“Timothy?”

“Tim’s fine,” Dick reassures him.

Damian tucks his face into Bruce’s chest, sniffling.

“It’s ok. Everything’s going to be ok, Damian.”

[glorious-spoon]

your way or nothing at all [9-1-1 | Eddie Diaz | 1/1]

1500 words character study | mild angst | weddings | background buck/tommy, eddie/marisol | pre-relationship buddie | not quite a feelings realization for eddie but he's getting there

-

In the quieting dark, Eddie lingers by the tables, the empty chairs pushed together in a cluster for a conversation long since abandoned. It's late enough that people are starting to filter out into the night, and pretty much everybody left is crowded at the open bar or swaying on the dance floor. At the high table, Maddie has Buck's suit jacket draped over her shoulders and her cheek tipped against Chim's shoulder, and he's looking down at her with a dopily besotted expression that Eddie can clock even from here.

It makes him feel like—something, some kind of nostalgia for the wedding he never got to have with Shannon. That whole day felt like being hustled through a play that he never learned his lines to. Shannon was three months pregnant and deep in the throes of vicious morning sickness that was not improved by the catering or the stress of the day, so he spent their wedding night holding back her hair in the honeymoon suite his parents paid for and trying desperately to feel like he had a single fucking clue what he was doing. Trying to feel like a man and a husband and a father-to-be and mostly feeling like a complete fraud.

They deserved better. Both of them. Now, in this moment, after this day, it soothes more than it stings to watch Maddie and Chim hold onto each other so easily.

The song changes, and he watches a swirl of motion on the bar side of the dance floor, the particular energy that's easily identifiable as Buck even before he emerges from the crowd. Normally, maybe Eddie would gravitate in, but Buck's got a hand linked together with Tommy's, and they're laughing, and so he stays where he is. Just watches.

It's sweet, a little fumbling as Buck very obviously tries to figure out the logistics of slow-dancing with another guy. Tommy says something in a low voice and settles a palm on his hip, and Buck ducks his head, laughing, and leans into him.

It's sweet. It is. Eddie's throat fucking aches.

He doesn't know why, not really. Maybe it's the smile on Buck's face, wide and giddy and almost embarrassingly bright. He never smiled at Natalia like that, or Taylor. Maybe Ali, but the truth is that back then Eddie wasn't looking for it. Back then, he was so caught up in everything with Shannon, and he and Buck were barely more than friendly coworkers, as strange as that idea seems now.

He probably smiled at Abby like that. Eddie wasn't around for that relationship, only the aftermath, but he can imagine it. You don't hurt that badly when someone leaves you unless you really fucking loved them.

"You would not believe the line for the bathroom," Marisol says from behind him, and Eddie jolts like he just grabbed a high-voltage wire. He tries to spin it into something graceful as he turns to face her, but he's pretty sure it doesn't work, and also pretty sure that he shouldn't be feeling quite so jumpscared at the sight of his girlfriend. His heart is pounding. He rubs his knuckles against his sternum, and Marisol asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he says. "Sorry. You startled me."

"No, it's fine." She smiles at him, and it's pretty. She looks pretty, in a blue dress that looks black in this light, little metallic threads picked through and glittering. It hugs the curves of her body in a way that Eddie feels obligated to notice, and so he does, and when he looks her in the eye again she's smiling wider, and that's pretty too and Eddie—

Eddie still feels like a fucking fraud.

"I got you a beer," Marisol says. She's got a glass of wine in her other hand. White wine, lipstick marks on the rim.

Eddie smiles back and takes the bottle she hands him. "Thanks."

"I wasn't sure what you'd want." She grins at him, flirty. "You'll have to tell me if I made a bad guess."

He sips the beer. It's a lager, hoppy and astringent in a way that leaves a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. He takes another drink and smiles around the grimace his mouth wants to make. "It's perfect. Thank you."

The pleased relief in her smile doesn't make the lie feel any better. He takes another sip and sets the bottle down, and Marisol settles her hip against his chair, close enough that he can feel the warmth of her body. Close enough that he could wrap an arm around her thighs and pull her into his lap, if he wanted to do that. He shifts forward instead, leaning his elbows against the table, and she lets out a quiet sound and sets her glass down to sit in the chair next to him. The music switches over from Christina Perri to what Eddie is pretty sure is Savage Garden, and on the dance floor Tommy says something that makes Buck laugh and pull him closer.

"They're cute together," Marisol observes. "Buck and, um… Tommy?"

Eddie's fingers twitch on his beer bottle. "Yeah."

"I didn't know that he was, you know…" she trails off. Eddie looks over at her, and she adds, "Not that there's anything wrong with it! I just, I thought he had a girlfriend."

"They broke up. He dates guys too," Eddie says, more emphatically than is really necessary. Like this is a truth that he's always known instead of something Buck told him two weeks ago in the loft, quiet and careful like he was afraid of how Eddie would react. Like he was afraid of Eddie.

It was a date, we were on a date.

So it's new for Buck, too. Not just him. But still.

It feels like something he should have known.

"Okay," Marisol says. The corners of her mouth tighten, and she takes a pointed sip of her wine. "I didn't know that, is all."

I didn't know either, Eddie imagines saying, but the words strangle themselves in his throat just the same as, Actually, I don't like lagers, and, I don't really want company tonight, did. He wonders how the hell Buck does it—just opens his mouth and lets the truth spill out. Eddie can only manage that when it's for other people. Never for himself.

"Sorry," he says out loud. "It's been… a day."

Marisol's face softens a little, and he feels like shit about that, too. It has been a day, is the thing. He woke up in a bathtub, more hungover than he's been in at least a decade, and after that was a wild goose-chase through the desert to retrieve Chim in time for the wedding, and all that is plenty of reason for him to be off his game now. It's just that somehow it also feels like a fucking lie.

On the dance floor, Buck has his cheek pressed to Tommy's. He says something, and Tommy's shoulders shake with laughter, and then they both turn, moving easily together into a kiss. It's quick and tender, and Eddie abruptly feels like the worst kind of voyeur for watching it happen. He turns his head away and finds Marisol looking at him.

The music changes again. TLC, he's pretty sure, because Chim is deep down a very basic Gen X music kind of guy. Or maybe it was Maddie's pick, who knows. Anyway. It's a little more upbeat, but still slow enough to dance to.

"You, uh." He clears his throat, and finds a smile that feels almost right. "Come on, you wanna dance before they close it all down? They're playing our song."

"This is our song?" Marisol asks, but she's laughing. "I don't even think I was born yet when it came out."

Eddie shrugs and holds out a hand. "It could be our song. Maybe for tonight it's just a good song to dance to."

That must have been the right thing to say. She smiles, sets her wine down, and slips her hand into his, letting him tug her to her feet. They wind their way through the chairs to the dance floor, and under the string lights she settles easily into his arms. 

I know you're gonna have it your way or nothing at all, rasps the singer in a sweetly smoky voice, as Eddie closes his eyes, and sways, and breathes, but I think you're moving too fast.

I think you're moving too fast.

He breathes in, and out, and opens his eyes. Marisol smiles up at him, and he smiles back, then cuts his eyes away. There are still a handful of people left on the dance floor with them: Athena and Bobby, swaying together like they're in their own little world, a couple of Buckley cousins with their dates. Buck and Tommy are gone, though, and Eddie almost cranes his head through the crowd to see where they got to before he catches himself.

"To tell you the truth," Marisol says. "I really don't think this is our song."

"Alright, well, we can find another one," Eddie says, and she laughs and sways into him, and he holds onto her, and when he closes his eyes, it's fine; it all feels fine.

[vilevenom]

I took a break from writing for a bit, and now I'm dipping my toes into the Sonic fandom. This is essentially just a quick little thing I wrote to try and get a bit of a handle on how I'd like to characterize them. P.S - I wrote it mostly on a whim, and a little bit while recovering from a migraine, soooo...yeah. No Ray of Sunlight's Ever Lost Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog (no specific media) Pairing: Gen, Sonic/Shadow Summary: The idea of Shadow getting injured wasn't new to Sonic. But the possibility of him dying was certainly new A.K.A: These boys are emotionally constipated Warning: Descriptions of blood/injury

Blue had always been a color that brought Shadow great comfort. His memories were clouded and distorted on the best of days, but he could vividly recall the light blue dress that Maria wore as frequently as she could get away with. He remembered how soft the fabric had been as he clutched at it while Maria held him tight after an especially harrowing battery of tests, and how warm he'd felt in her embrace as she scooped him into her lap to read from her favorite book on sleepless nights.

Later, when that sweet cornflower blue became tainted with red, a different shade would emerge into his life. A stark, vivid cobalt that would enrage and taunt him at first, only to later bloom into an odd sort of warmth in his chest. It was a constant that Shadow could count on, no matter how dire the situation seemed to be. That bright blue would appear and set everything to rights with a razer sharp grin and a handful of quippy remarks.

He never truly realized just how much he'd come to value it until it was, perhaps, a bit too late.

~

As long as Sonic had known Shadow they had fought against and with one another. Even if the later was often quite begrudging on the hybrids part. It was something Sonic never meant to take for granted, really, but when push came to shove, he knew Shadow would be at his side, if the situation called for it. He knew as dour and irritable as Shadow could be, there was a heart of gold buried somewhere in his chest. After all, the chaos loved him, and he'd seen how he acted around Cream.

So, when Robotnik had attacked, and Sonic was on the ropes, he'd only grinned as a familiar steak of black and red flashed across the battlefield towards him.

"Took you long enough to get here, slow poke," Sonic teased as Shadow came to a stop next to him, his quills already bristled and a scowl on his face.

"Some of us have red tape to cut before they can take action, faker," Shadow snarked back, folding his arms over his chest as Sonic snorted a laugh at him.

"That's your own fault for working for G.U.N," Sonic said with a shrug.

"I don't have time to have such a childish argument with you again," Shadow grunted, taking off without a backward glance. He took down a badnik with, perhaps, a bit more force than strictly necessary as he went, which caused Sonic to laugh.

"Ah, Shadow, So easy to rile up," Sonic muttered to himself, before following in his self proclaimed rivals wake.

The battle went on as such for longer than Sonic would have liked, but with Shadow and his friends helping to beat back Eggman's forces, it was obvious that the tide of battle was quickly shifting and coming to an end. Unfortunately, that was usually when Robotnik lashed out in one last, desperate attempt to flip the fight back in his favor. Sonic knew this, it was how all their battles tended to go. He should have been paying better attention. He should have been looking in the other direction. He should have heard Tails shout. There were so many things, looking back, that Sonic truly wished he'd done to change the way the last moments of their skirmish had played out.

He'd been grinning at Amy as she smashed her hammer into a badnik, taking a brief moment to catch his breath, figuring his friends could handle themselves and the last few bots scattered around. His ear had twitched in Tails' direction as he caught his brother yelling something, but he didn't turn to see what it was as his attention was caught by the sudden look of horror on Amy's face. He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, only to grunt as something slammed into his side, sending him flying from his perch atop a downed badnik and into the dirt. Finally, he turned his head to shout at whoever had pushed him, only to be met with a sight that would be burned into his mind eye, seeing it in vivid detail every time he closed his eyes for quite some time.

Shadow stood where Sonic once was, eyes wide as he stared down at the blue hedgehog. A choking little wheeze escaped his lips as time seemed to freeze as Sonic's mind caught up to what he was seeing. The metallic glint of silver was protruding from Shadow's chest where it ought not be, and thick rivulets of blood were oozing from the spot where the blade met Shadows fur. A stunned look of surprise was on Shadow's face, as if he couldn't quite fathom what had just happened.

As quickly as it occurred the moment was suddenly over, as Shadow was jerked backwards through the air, the blade sticking out of his chest attached to a chain that was being retracted by the robot wielding it. A scream that would haunt Sonic in his sleep ripped through the air as Shadow collided with the robot holding the blade, the impact inevitably driving it deeper through his chest.

By the time Sonic had shaken himself from his stupor and scrambled back up onto his feet, Robotnik had fled, Knuckles had crushed the robot that had skewered Shadow, and Rouge was gently lowering the hybrid to the ground with the blade very much still protruding from his chest.

Sonic rushed to Shadow and Rouge once he'd spotted them, Tails and Amy quick to follow, as both had witnessed what had happened. He skidded to his knees next to his fallen friend, Shadow hiccupping little breaths of air, foamy bubbles of blood trickling from his lips with each labored half-breath he managed.

"Take the blade out," Sonic said in a panic, reaching for the tip of the blade, only to flinch back as Rouge slapped his hand away.

"You want to watch him bleed out right here!?" she snapped, holding Shadow protectively close while being mindful of the blade. "It's got to stay put until we can get him to a doctor."

"Shouldn't his restorative powers keep that from happening?" Tails asked, fidgeting next to Sonic. "We've seen him heal from similar wounds."

"None that were straight through like this," Rouge grumbled, her ears perking up as she noticed Omega finally making his way across the battlefield towards them. "This is bigger and deeper than anything I've seen him deal with, and I am not gonna risk losing him just so Blue doesn't have a melt down."

When Omega halted next to the little group, Rouge had Knuckles help to settle the injured hybrid in the robots arms so he could be carried back to, assumedly, G.U.N headquarters. "We'll get you all fixed up, sugar, don't you fret," Rouge quietly assured Shadow, who looked dazed as he continued to struggle with getting air into his lungs and they began their trek back towards the city.

Meanwhile, Rouge's words to Sonic rattled around in his head. What did she mean by 'lose him'? Shadow would be fine. He was "ageless", after all. Didn't that mean he was practically immortal?

"I mean…Ageless just means he won't age. I don't think that means he can't die," Tails murmured next to him, Sonic jerked in surprise at his brothers voice. He hadn't meant to say any of that out loud. "He has an amazing capacity for healing, but Rouge had a point. If a wound is bad enough, and he doesn't have medical attention fast enough…well…" Tails trailed off, looking uncomfortable even as he spoke.

"I don't think that was as comforting as you thought it was, Tails," Knuckles snorted, folding his arms over his chest as the fox kit turned to look down at his brother with a wince.

"That's not to say he won't heal! They'll probably get him back to G.U.N in plenty of time, and with some surgery, I'm sure he'll be just fine!" Tails was quick to try and reassure, waving his hands through the air.

Sonic stared after Team Dark, shakily rising to his feet after a beat. "I'm going with them."

"Sonic," Amy sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder, "You know G.U.N doesn't like it when you show up at their headquarters unannounced. Rouge and Omega have Shadow. He'll be okay."

Sonic shrugged off Amy's hand, stepping away from her with a short shake of his head. "He's hurt because I wasn't paying enough attention. I need to make sure he's okay."

Before any of his friends could get another word in edge wise, Sonic took off after Team Dark, skidding to a stop and then trotting along next to Omega. Rouge cast him the briefest of glances, but otherwise didn't say anything as they walked with purpose towards a van that Sonic presumed would take them back to G.U.N. He glanced up at Omega, though the robot gave him no mind, before carefully reaching out to gently take Shadow's hand. The hybrid blinked sluggishly at the contact, tilting his head slightly so he could see the blue hedgehog keeping pace with them.

"Hey," Sonic said, forcing a lopsided smile on his lips, and forcing himself not to notice how the white fluff on Shadow's chest was now a vivid red that almost matched his quills, "Thanks for the save. I'm gonna make sure those goons heal you up, okay?"

A quiet little hitch of breath left Shadow, before he managed to make a low humming sound. Sonic's smile became a little less forced as Shadows fingers squeezed around his own.

~

Irritation and anxiety flowed freely through Sonic as he bounced his leg incessantly where he sat outside the room they'd rushed Shadow into. Predictably, they'd tried to keep Sonic from following Team Dark into G.U.N headquarters, but a quick, waspish remark from Rouge and an easy dodge from Sonic kept the blue blur at Shadow's side. It wasn't until a doctor forced Sonic out of the room with comments about sanitation and distractions that Sonic acquiesced to waiting outside.

Eventually, Rouge had Omega steal a couple of chairs from somewhere and the two sat in silence outside the room, Rouge with a book she'd produced from Chaos only knew where, and Sonic anxiously winding himself up.

The thought had never even occurred to him before that Shadow could get hurt enough to die. He'd seen the hybrid get stabbed six ways to Sunday, get beaten unconscious, hell, even falling to earth from orbit hadn't killed him! But now, the very real possibility of losing Shadow was gripping his heart in a way he never thought it would. The very idea that he could be facing a future without dragging the hybrid out of his apartment to race, or watching him zip into battle with a snarky comment shot in his direction was surprisingly paralyzing.

Finally, after what Sonic presumed was hours, as no clocks were to be seen in the hallway they sat in, a doctor exited the room. Sonic shot up from his chair as the door opened, his heart seizing in his chest at the sheer amount of blood on the doctors smock.

"He's stable," the doctor stated bluntly after staring Sonic down for a solid minute, before sauntering off down the hall like they hadn't nearly given the blue hedgehog a heart attack.

He didn't even given Rouge a glance as he rushed through the open door, halting at Shadow's bed side, his hands fluttering uselessly through the air over the hybrid's prone form. He had thought, for a moment, that Shadow was asleep, but was shortly met with a quite groan and red eyes peering up at him in mild irritation at his anxious movements. He did his best to ignore the bandages wrapped around Shadows chest and the seeping red stain slowly tinting them.

"Shadow!" Sonic breathed, "You're awake?"

"Mmm," the hybrid grunted, offering Rouge a small nod as she and Omega made their way into the room, "Can't use anesthesia on me. Metabolism is too fast."

Rouge offered Shadow a glass of water, which the hybrid took with a grateful little hum. As he drank he quirked a curious eyebrow at Sonic, who was simply staring at him with a dumbfounded little expression on his face.

"So you were awake for all that?"

Shadow simply nodded, handing the glass back to Rouge once he was finished.

"How did you not make any noise when they pulled the blade out?" Sonic blurted rather tactlessly, earning a glare from Rouge and a restrained snort of laughter from Shadow.

"I did," he said with a shrug, Rouge sighing next to him with a shake of her head, "All of the rooms in here are sound proof, though."

"Don't give me that look, Blue. You would've blown the door off its hinges if you'd heard him scream," Rouge said rolling her eyes at Sonic's affronted look. "Anyway, sugar, I have a feeling Blue wants to talk with you in private, so I'm gonna go do our paperwork. I'm glad you're okay." She leaned over and pressed a short kiss to Shadow's forehead, earning a disgruntled groan from Shadow.

"You? Doing paperwork? I must have died. There's no way you'd voluntarily do it otherwise," Shadow sniped, earning a light laugh from Rouge.

"I never said it was a free service," Rouge chuckled, blowing Shadow a kiss as she and Omega left the room.

Silence reigned for a beat after Rouge shut the door behind them, before Sonic let out a low whistle.

"So," he started, rocking back and forth on his heels, "You almost died saving me. What's that all about?"

Shadow slowly arched an eyebrow at Sonic, frown prominent on his muzzle. "..Tactful."

"I…Sorry, yeah. That was't-" Sonic cut himself off with a groan, dragging his hands down over his face. "Thank you. For saving me. I…You saved my life."

Shadow simply hummed, offering Sonic a slow nod. "Don't get used to it."

"I don't plan on making it a habit to put myself into that sort of situation."

"Liar."

"…Okay, you got me there," Sonic snorted, dragging a hand absently through his quills. "But…no, look, I…You scared me," he admitted quietly, "It honestly didn't even occur to me until today that you could get so severely hurt. What made you do it?"

Shadow sat silently for a moment, observing Sonic, before he finally shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement. "I moved before my mind could catch up with what I was doing."

"Ah," Sonic nodded, a sardonic little smile on his face, "Hero instincts finally kicked in, huh?"

Shadow frowned, grunting quietly as he shoved himself into somewhat of a sitting position, Sonics hands instinctively fluttering around him once again, obviously unsure as to what he could or should do. "Not hero instinct," Shadow sighed once he was settled back into his pillows, "I didn't want to see you get hurt."

"…You roundhouse kick me almost every time you see me."

"You know exactly what I mean. Don't be difficult."

Sonic let out an almost hysterical little giggle, moving to sit on the edge of the bed with a shake of his head. "I really don't think I do."

Shadow heaved a deep, but obviously difficult sigh, shutting his eyes as he tipped his head back into his pillows. He was silent for a moment, before opening his eyes and directing an intent stare at Sonic. "I've lost people who were important to me. It was an experience I am not eager to repeat."

"…I'm important to you?"

Shadow grunted, rolling his eyes at the slow grin spreading on Sonic's face. "Yes."

"Awww, Shadow!" Sonic cooed, placing his hands over his chest while fluttering his eye lashes at the other.

"Mmm, thank you for trivializing this," Shadow sighed, folding his arms over his chest with a barely perceptible wince.

"Wh-no! That's not what I-guh," Sonic grumbled, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration at himself, "I'm not trying to trivialize it." He fidgeted for a moment, his ears pinning back at the unimpressed stare down he was getting from the hybrid. "…You're important to me, too, Shadow," he finally said after a beat, letting his hands drop into his lap. "For a bit, there, I thought…I thought you were going to die. I thought one stupid mistake on my part was going to mean that I never got to see you again, and I…That's not something I want to think about again."

"Then stop doing stupid things when dealing with Robotnik," Shadow snarked, earning a light laugh from Sonic.

"No promises, but I'll do my best," Sonic hummed, offering his hand to Shadow, who looked momentarily startled by the action. Slowly he unfolded his arms and placed his hand into Sonic's, curling his fingers loosely around the other's palm.

"I'll hold you to that."

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

[cadmuslabs777]

[Int. Interrogation Room]

Ravonna: Mobius, I need you to focus. You were the only analyst on the scene. What else can you tell me?

Mobius: ...I don't know, Von. He... He looked very distressed. He desperately needed me to recognize him, but...

Ravonna: But...?

Mobius: I swear, I've never seen him before. All we know is his name was Loki-

Ravonna: Mobius.

The tone is harsh. Mobius stops and looks at her, confused: Yes?

Ravonna: How do you know this variant's name?

Mobius: What? What do you mean? He... He said-

Ravonna: Mobius. None of the reports made by the hunters mention a name. He never said it.

Mobius: No, that can't- Then why do I know his name?

Silence. Ravonna is typing on her tempad.

Mobius expression changes, he's still confused, but instead of being scared and fumbling for explanations, he becomes angry. He looks at her sternly.

Mobius: Ravonna? Why do I know his name?!

She's still not answering. Not even looking at him. Miss Minutes pops up by her side with a "Hey, y'all! Doc's on the way!".

Mobius gets agitated. Metal tendrils emerge from the armrest of the chair he's sitting and hold him in place. Others emerge from under the chair and wrap around his legs when he tries to kick the table.

Mobius: WHY DO I KNOW HIS NAME, RAVONNA?! WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING ME?! WHY DO I REMEMBER HIS-

Something clicks inside of him, a realization. He frowns.

Mobius: W-why...

But it's too late to get any answers. The doors to the interrogation room open and a person dressed in a lab coat enters rolling in a small cart with a strange looking machine on top. It stops next to a shell shocked Mobius who's panting and looking at nothing.

Miss Minutes: Oh, there you are, Doc!

[End Scene]

[badfanfictionaire]

Chrissy Cunningham has lived with a secret since she was nine years old: she could talk to ghosts.  And not through an EMF device or something like that, no, she could do it just like any other conversation. It had spooked her the first time she realized her parents couldn’t see the young man who often wandered their backyard late at night.  Even at nine she knew better than to admit what she could see to her parents, who would surely have had her committed if they ever realized she believed this man was more than just an imaginary friend.  Or, that their child never lost her so-called imagination even in adulthood.  

The man in her backyard was named Henry, a troubled soul who had lost his life twenty years prior, in the woods beyond the Cunningham’s property.  He hadn’t shared his last name, not wanting her to know who he really was, but she’d been able to do some detective work anyway.  Henry Creel had not been a kind soul in his lifetime.  As a teen, in a drug-fueled rage he had killed his mother and sister, leaving his father to face the wrath of the police.  For years he evaded karma, until it caught up with him one autumnal evening, and he himself was brutally slain by a madman while walking in the woods.  

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” Chrissy said to him one night, sitting on the stone wall behind her house, “Good people can do bag things.  You made a tragic mistake, but you’ve more than paid for your sins.”

Henry scoffed, “Forced to do nothing but wander this plane for the rest of eternity, thinking about what I’ve done.  A punishment I’ll never escape.” 

“Maybe I could help you cross over,” she said, swinging her legs and kicking at the fallen leaves below. 

“I don’t think I want to know what happens after this,” Henry said flatly, and then he was gone again. 

Ghosts, she had found, were very good at disappearing when they wanted to.  At first she thought they were finding their way to the other side without help, but, it was really just a ghostly trick. One, that as she got older, she wished she could pull too.  Her mother got worse and worse about managing Chrissy’s every step and bite of food, nearly to the point Chrissy thought maybe she would soon be able to vanish without a trace…

Things change drastically the day she meets Eddie Munson in the woods after school.  She’d gone seeking something to help her sleep off the constant hunger pains, and emerged with something far better: a friend. And not just any friend, a friend who was like her. 

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she said tearfully. 

“Try me, Cunningham,” he’d said with a Chesire cat grin. 

“...I can see ghosts, I can talk to the dead.”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed, a merry bright sound that echoed off the trees. 

“I knew you’d think-”

“Cunningham,” he said slowly, “I don’t think you’re crazy, because I can see them too.”

Months later, they helped Henry find his way into the beyond.  As they watched his ghostly light fade into the night air, she clutched Eddie’s hand. 

“Do you think he’ll find peace?” 

“I’m not sure,” Eddie said quietly, “I hope so.”

“I know he hurt a lot of people,” she said, “But, he spent a very long time suffering.”

“I know,” he said kissing her knuckles, “If there is peace after all this, I think he’s earned it by now.”

He walks her back to the side door of her parent’s house.  “So, when can I see you again, Ghost Girl?” 

“Whenever you want,” she replies earnestly. 

“Whenever?” there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Whenever,” she replies.

He seals their unspoken promise with a kiss, and Chrissy’s heart floods with joy.  

“Thank you for helping me, for helping Henry,” she murmurs into his hair. 

“Of course,” he whispers back, “I’m just glad I’m not alone in this anymore, that we’re not alone in this.”

She smiles warmly despite the chilly air whistling around her.  “Take me home?” 

“But-”

“With you,” she adds.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he says, his expression giddy.  

He helps her into his van and shuts the door.  As they drive away from the big white house on the hill in Loch Nora, where a timid young girl once hid in the shadows, something new and warm unfurls in her chest. She’s truly not alone anymore, and not just because of the things that go bump in the night. 

👻👻👻👻

(read on AO3)

[barnesafterglow]

friday (i'm in love)

summary: every day you love bucky. every friday he pretends to love you too

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: college!au, angst, phoebe bridgers made me do this, ambiguous ending

a/n: i've been working on this bad boy since august and finally got around to finishing it. i actually really like this and i hope you all do too! please remember to reblog and comment - i love getting feedback!

masterlist ─ i no longer have a taglist but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary and turn on notifications to stay updated on when i post!

The Monday sun trickled through your half opened blinds, waking more sweetly than you probably deserved. Your eyes cracked open, seeing a peaking glance of the blue morning sky, and a half smile made its way to your face. Mondays were usually hard for you but you thought that just maybe today would be a change.

That is until your hand reached for the other side of the bed, feeling the sheets cold from a body long gone. Any warmth the splashes of sun may have granted you seeped from your body, leaving you as cold and empty as your sheets. Disappointed - but not surprised - you slipped from underneath the covers and made your way to the bathroom. While you were waiting for the water to heat up, you hesitantly looked at yourself in the mirror.

It was the same as every Monday of the semester -  messy hair, the remnants of mascara just under your eyes, the peak of a smattering of bruises across your collarbones - always low enough that no one could see them but you, and the person who left them there. But they would mostly fade by Friday, just to be replaced over the weekend.

It was a pattern you had somehow let yourself fall into, no end in sight. Every time your roommate gave you the side eye, or poured you a glass of wine when she heard your muffled sobs over the sound of the running shower, or heard the door quietly open and close in the way too early morning hours while she was awake in the living room, you tried to come up with ways to end it, ways to break the cycle. You would never do it, of course, but maybe if you could imagine, just for a moment, an end to the hurt you put yourself through, you could take a breath of relief.

As you stepped out of the lobby of your apartment into late fall air, you tampered down a quick flash of anger. It didn’t seem fair that the light blue of the sky and the golden rays of the sun were allowed to be out and proud when your own blue mood was so dark it neared black.

But still, just like every Monday, you took a deep breath and headed to your first class.

You were halfway across campus when you saw Bucky, talking to Sharon, and the quick flash of eye contact before he looked away, not so much as a wave of recognition, threatened to bring you to your knees. 

And the sky remained blue and clear.

-

Tuesday was so dark and cold it gave you whiplash.

The second day of the week was always a little easier, the wound less fresh, and you eased yourself out of bed, still sore from yesterday’s workout - where you ran until you could barely breathe because it was the only time you stopped thinking of Bucky. The warm shower nearly held you hostage, knowing you would be faced with a bitter chill once you stepped outside.

You managed to get out despite the protests from every cell in your body, and spent a long time getting ready, delaying the inevitable.

Your heart thudded, heavy in your chest, as you navigated campus, never sure when your greatest daydream and darkest nightmare would emerge from the crowd to haunt you with empty eyes.

The universe granted you reprieve for a day.

-

Wednesday wasn’t as kind.

The same weather matched your overcast mood and you bundled up in the first sweatshirt you grabbed from your drawer.

It wasn’t until you were already out of the door that you realized it was Bucky’s, and you let out a choked sound before you composed yourself.

Of course it would be your luck to be just outside the building when you got a message your only class for the day had been canceled, and you decided to make the trip worth your time by heading to the library.

You studied for your upcoming exam, digging into your textbook with a highlighter and a middle-of-the-week attitude.

As you turned the page, it sliced your finger and you let out a hiss of pain. The other hand gripped your pen so hard you thought it might explode in a splash of ink and shame. From the way your week was already going, you honestly wouldn’t be surprised. 

Dropping the pen on the table with a soft clatter, you dug around in your bag, searching for tissues you knew you didn't have. You finally gave up, sticking the bleeding fingertip in your mouth so you didn’t get blood on the page of notes you had been diligently working on. You looked around to see if anyone had seen your miniature fiasco, but everyone else on the floor was either immersed in their own studying or chatting quietly amongst themselves.

In your glance around, the elevator doors opening caught your eye at the very same moment Bucky walked out. Your heart swelled in a flurry of hope as his face split into an easy grin, until you realized he was looking over you. You turned your head enough to see Steve and Sam just a few tables over, and Bucky took a couple steps forward until his gaze dropped enough to see you. And your sweatshirt.

He came to a sudden stop, smile disappearing from his face, and he took a sharp turn towards the corner of the library where the stairwell led back to the bottom floor. You could barely hear the slam of the heavy door over the shattering of your heart.

-

By Thursday, you had fully convinced yourself to move on.

You had one last crying session with Wanda, over a bottle of wine and a mountain of good advice you would try desperately to take.

With a warm buzz, you felt light and airy on the decision to do better, be better, be stronger. No matter how many times you had told yourself the last time was truly the last time, you were convinced this was it.

Instead, Friday brought you a hangover and a text from Bucky.

Usual tonight?

You ignored it all day. You turned your phone off, shoved your laptop in a drawer, took away any form of communication you had with him. You spent the day catching up on reading you had been telling yourself you would get to for months.

It almost worked.

Wanda was gone for the weekend - she mistakenly trusted your promise that Bucky wouldn’t be coming over.

Because by the time the clock struck midnight, you texted him back.

-

For most of the next week, you didn’t see Bucky at all.

Monday it was a downpour, the sky black and the wind cutting your skin. You knew he skipped class on days like that. After class, you went for a run, watching the rain splatter on the window that looked over campus, and tried to push him from your brain. It worked.

Tuesday, in the early hours of the morning, you got a panicked call from your mom. Your dad was in the hospital and she needed help for a couple days. You packed a bag and got in your car, heading home without a second thought.

Wednesday you were so busy you didn’t think about Bucky at all.

Thursday, it was almost easy to block Bucky’s number.

Friday, you heard it.

Knock. Knock. Knock knock knock.

The pattern that let Wanda know to disappear into her room, where she could pretend she didn’t know what was happening. Bucky didn’t like anyone to see him there, even the girl who heard everything the two of you did through the thin walls.

The doorknob rattled, and you could tell he was surprised to find it locked. Every Friday before, it had been left open for him.

Evening your breathing, you opened the door and saw his confused face. Your thoughts wrestled between slamming the door shut and leaping into his arms.

In the end, you did neither, stepping back and letting him trail you to your bedroom.

“You never answered my text.” There was no emotion behind the statement. He said it like it was a simple fact, no different than telling you that your walls were grey.

“I know.” He sat on your bed like he belonged there.

“Why?” You backed away as far as you could, your back hitting the wall, your arms crossing over your chest like they could protect you from his words.

“Why do you think?”

“I have no clue.” You were in disbelief. He had no clue? No clue what you felt for him? No clue that he broke your heart a little more every time he came and went?

“I’m done. With us.” You tried to keep your voice from shaking, but there was still a slight waver. You wondered if he even noticed.

“What do you mean you’re done?”

“I mean I don’t want to do this anymore. Don’t want to see you. Don’t want you here.”

“Why?” So many why’s. So many sharp words he didn’t even know were cutting you deep.

“What do you mean why, Bucky? This isn’t fair anymore! You stay here all weekend, you slip in my bed and in me and then you’re gone by the time I wake up Monday morning. And every Monday I can’t hold my tears back, even though I know you won’t be here.”

“Baby, you -”

“Don’t call me baby.”

He looked genuinely shocked, and you knew why. You had never raised your voice at him. The two of you had never even gotten in any kind of fight; he didn’t care enough to.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just,” he stopped, seemingly gathering up his next words, “you knew what this was when we started.”

“And what is ‘this’? What am I to you?”

“You know what you are. You’re a… friend. With benefits. We said there were no strings attached.”

“No, you said there were no strings attached, and I went along with whatever you wanted because I knew this was as close as I could ever get to you loving me back.” The words flew from your mouth before you could catch them, and the tension that blanketed the room was so thick you felt like you could hold it in your hands.

“What?” His voice was barely a whisper, the first time he had shown any true emotion since he walked into your apartment.

“Just forget it.” You took a deep breath. “Get out.”

His eyes held a thousand questions, and you didn’t want to hear any of them. He sat, still as a statue, just staring at you.

“I said get out.”

It was like the words awoke him from a trance and he stood quickly, stumbling past you as he made his way out of the apartment.

-

The weekend hurt - the first weekend you hadn’t spent with Bucky in you didn’t even know how long.

But you didn’t cry.

You thought that might be a good thing.

-

By Monday, you were truly feeling better - the first Monday you could remember not having an emotional hangover. You got up early and went for a morning run, and didn’t even have to push the thought of Bucky from your mind. Then you went home and showered and got ready for the day. As you walked to class, you held your head high, a ghost of a smile on your face.

You felt good.

Then you saw him again. 

It was like deja vu, life in slow motion, a moment so perfectly timed you couldn’t even make it up in fiction.

You passed Bucky, the same as just a couple weeks before, talking to Sharon. Except this time, his arm was slung over her shoulder, a cocky grin on his face. Except this time, he actually looked at you, met your eyes in a stare, and his face dropped.

Except this time, gazes still locked, you watched each other, heads turned, until the moment passed and you were on your way, heart stilled in your chest.

-

Tuesday and Wednesday you couldn’t even get out of bed. 

It was like the small modicum of progress you had was washed away with the rain that pattered outside your window.

You wouldn’t - couldn’t - eat, so Wanda resorted to bringing you glasses of water, making you sit up and drink at least two before she would let you go back to wallowing.

She was a good friend; you knew she would make you get out of bed eventually, and she would help you move on. And you would try.

Thursday, the door cracked open, and you figured it was her finally coming to drag you out of bed. Instead, Nat and Wanda walked in.

Without a word, then got into bed on either side of you, and held you until you couldn’t cry anymore.

-

The weekend was easier. You went out with your friends you had been neglecting. You didn’t see Bucky. You felt better, at least a little bit.

You thought that maybe you would always love Bucky - love the way he touched you, love the way he would lay in your bed for hours and talk about anything and everything, love the way you knew each other inside and out - but you could also move on.

It was possible, you just had to try.

-

Monday night, you were sitting on the couch watching old TV reruns when you heard a shuffle outside your door.

Knock. Knock. Knock knock knock.

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 21 - zuko x fem!reader

Meet me in the afterglow

part 20 | masterlist | part 22

a/n: wowwwww we're finally in the happy part of this fic lol. it feels so good to write zuko and yn together after 100k words of them being on opposite sides and hating each other. it was actually kind of hard to write this because it was a lot of chill fluff and it has been a long Long time since ive written that. very sorry this took so long

wc: 5k

warning(s): some discussions of yn and zuko's pasts but overall very fluffy

chapter title comes from afterglow by taylor swift!

Silence.

That was what Y/N woke up to.

No nightmares, no guilt, no flashbacks—just… silence.

And the arms of another around her. Zuko. She reveled in the warmth he provided, sighing contentedly as she shifted to look at him. 

She’d always thought Zuko was beautiful, but he was even more so when asleep. His features relaxed rather than rageful, no longer tainted by her own incessant anger. Pools of gold met her when his eyes flickered open, a gentleness held within them she’d missed dearly. 

“Hi,” she whispered, a smile already tugging at her lips.

“Hi.” His voice was just as soft, his own emerging smile enough to make her melt. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than I have in months.” Y/N moved her hand over his, and Zuko turned his over to entangle their fingers. “And it’s all thanks to you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he murmured, and he drew her in for a soft kiss. That was what made her melt. “You know I’m never letting you go again, right?”

A light laugh spilled from her lips. “I don’t want you to.”

“Good.” 

Though she wanted nothing more than to nestle back into Zuko’s embrace, she mustered enough strength to sit up, a small yawn escaping her. “When do you think we should go back?”

Zuko sighed as he sat up next to her, running a hand through his rustled hair. “We have time, Y/N. We’re in your village, the place you grew up. We don’t have to go back until you want to.”

“We are on a timeline though—”

“A timeline that isn’t close to being up yet,” he countered. “Aang doesn’t have to fight my father for a while—a few extra days out here isn’t going to hurt us.” Zuko shrugged. “You deserve a break after all you’ve been through lately, and besides—I’m sure your people wouldn’t mind hosting the savior of the village for a little longer.”

Y/N laughed and pushed him lightly, eliciting a little half-smile from Zuko. “Okay, I get it. Another day would be really nice.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay longer?”

She shook her head. “The rest of today will be enough for me to help get things moving on the repair front. We’ve already been gone two days—any longer than this and Katara will think we’ve died.” 

Zuko chuckled. “Alright.”

“Besides,” she said as she stood up and stretched her arms out, “after all of this is over, I’ll be able to come back anytime I want. And,” Y/N looked at Zuko, “I’ll be able to properly introduce you. As Zuko my boyfriend, and not Zuko the evil prince.”

He grinned. “Your boyfriend? Is that official?”

Y/N groaned and swatted at him. “Get out of here. I have to get dressed.”

“Anything for my beautiful girlfriend,” Zuko said as he got up, still wearing that ridiculous grin while he walked out.

Y/N rolled her eyes as he shut the door, but she couldn’t help but smile. It felt good, joking around like this. Having a lazy morning—waking up with him in the first place. 

And yeah—hearing Zuko call her his girlfriend was pretty nice too. 

She’d been longing for it for a greater time than she knew, and now that she’d worked through her anger, let it go, realized that this was what she wanted? 

It was too great a feeling to put into words.

That small smile remained on her lips as she began to rifle through her belongings, the minuscule amount she’d packed for this trip in a tiny satchel. She wanted to change, but the only other clothes she had were the tunic and pants she’d worn for months in prison. They were sort of the only clothes she owned now. 

The smile faded as she shoved them back into her bag. Maybe she could ask Leya to borrow one of her dresses for the day. That particular memory didn’t need to be resurfaced right now. 

She blew out a loose sigh as she sat back down on the bed, allowing herself a moment to really take it all in. 

Though Y/N had initially planned to get in and get out, the whole ‘taking back the village’ thing really threw a wrench in her hasty excursion. After last night—after the fight, the general, the grave—she was well and truly exhausted. Lao and Leya had immediately offered up the second bedroom of their home to her and Zuko, claiming it was ‘the least they could do after all she’d done’, and in the moment, Y/N wasn’t one to deny it. 

She didn’t realize how worn out she was until she laid down on the bed—true exhaustion and the warmth of Zuko’s arms around her was a deadly combination—and she was out before she knew it. 

It was the best she’d slept in a long time. 

Because she didn’t have a new outfit, she opted for smoothing out the black fabric and her hair, and nodded to herself before she left the room. She was surprised to see Zuko leaning against the wall next to the door, his arms crossed as he stared off at nothing in particular. 

“You waited?”

“Obviously. Life-threatening fights don’t have to be the only time we stick together.” She chuckled a bit as she slipped her hand into his, pleased at how familiar the motion felt.

“Of course.”

“Besides—” Zuko cleared his throat as his eyes darted away for a moment— “I’m kind of scared of Leya and Lao. I don’t think they really trust me.”

“What? Of course they do!” she exclaimed. “You took down the factory with Lao, and you helped in the fight for our village—they wouldn’t have offered you the place if they didn’t.” 

“You weren’t there,” he said dryly. “Lao questioned me the entire way to the factory about you. And he might be okay about me now, but Leya still seems uneasy. They still don’t even know who I really am.” 

“Who you are is Zuko. It doesn’t matter that you’re the prince—you’re Zuko, and you helped them. That’s all they’ll care about.” She gave him a slight nudge. “Things are different out here, away from the Fire Nation. People are tolerant. You’ve seen that while you’ve been away, right?”

It took Zuko a moment, but he nodded. His lips quirked in the smallest smile and he nodded again, as if he was actually starting to believe it. “Okay. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” she repeated. She swung their hands together a bit and started to lead the way. “Now let’s go. It’s nearly noon—we’ve gotta get our day started.”

“If you say so,” Zuko mused, and she just laughed. 

“I do.” 

“It’s good to see the two of you are finally awake,” Leya mused from her cushion as they emerged into the living room. “I was afraid you would sleep the whole day away.” 

“If anyone deserves it,” Lao said, walking over from the kitchen, “it’s them.” 

“Sorry.” Y/N scratched her neck, slightly bashful. “We were exhausted after yesterday.” 

“No need to apologize,” Leya laughed, and she gestured towards the counter. “Help yourselves, please—we made xiaolongbao and egg custard tarts to celebrate. There’s far too much for just the two of us.” 

“Are you sure?” Zuko asked tentatively.

“Of course we’re sure,” Lao said. “We’ve welcomed you into our home. Anything we have is yours, son.” He frowned. “I never did get your name.” 

He paused. “...My name is Zuko.” 

The name struck them like steel, tension immediately thick in the air even if just out of instinct. 

“Like Prince Zuko,” Leya said carefully, “of the Fire Nation.” 

“I don’t think I’m much of a prince anymore,” he frowned. “I did betray my entire country to help the Avatar.” 

Lao glanced at Y/N, the unsaid question obvious. 

“It’s the truth,” she said. “Zuko has been working with us for a good while now. He’s the Avatar’s firebending teacher, and he’s going to help us end the war.” 

“Alright,” Lao said, and he nodded. “Welcome to our home, Zuko. Officially.” 

His brows creased together. “Really?” 

“You’re clearly a good man,” he said. “Not just anyone would do what you’ve done.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“It is,” Lao insisted. “You didn’t have to help free our village, but you fought on the front lines with us.” He smiled wryly. “That makes a man good in my book.” 

“I agree.” Leya’s smile was softer, kinder, but held the same respect. “You’re just as much a hero to our village as Y/N is.” 

Zuko looked like he wanted to protest, but Y/N placed her hand over his and nodded. He deserved the praise. 

“...Thank you,” he finally said, wholly genuine. “You have no idea how much that means to me.” 

“Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of ours,” Leya said, and her lips quirked up. “Would you like to hear some of the terrible things she did when she was younger?” 

“Leya—” Y/N began, but Zuko shook his head, his own smile growing. 

“Tell me everything.” 

She groaned as he pulled her over to the floor, two cushions already set for them. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks as she sat down next to him, Leya and Lao launching into a story together from her childhood. 

(She had always been a bit of a terror, especially after she discovered her waterbending. That didn’t mean she wanted Zuko to know about it.) 

((“This is no way to treat the savior of the village,” she complained at one point. She was fully ignored.)) 

After spending far too many hours eating, chatting, and laughing (at Y/N’s expense), she and Zuko set out for the day. Y/N asked Leya for a spare outfit and she obliged immediately, so once again she found herself in Earth Kingdom greens and browns. The soft linen was the nicest reprieve from the scratchy prison clothes she’d been stuck in, and she had to admit—it was nice being back in Earth Kingdom clothes. It was just as much a part of her as the North. 

The rest of the day was busy but fulfilling, working long into the night to make up for the damage from the battle. Most of their efforts were spent architecturally, helping to repair houses that had been damaged and to tear down the Fire Nation estates. 

It might have been property, but it was tainted beyond belief. South Zeizhou would never truly belong to her people again if any trace of the Fire Nation remained. 

Y/N and Zuko had split halfway through the day to help with separate things—for some reason, her people were trusting her with designing. She spent the entire rest of the day running around helping various people, sketching up ideas for buildings and statues and everything else under the sun. It turned out that, when you saved an entire village of an eight year hold, they were just a little grateful. 

(She denied the idea every time someone brought up building a statue of her. She was sure she heard Zuko go behind her back and tell them otherwise.)

She was kept so busy that she didn’t see Zuko again until that night, when she pushed open the door to Leya and Lao’s estate to see him sitting on the floor alone. 

“Zuko,” she said, still getting used to the lightness his name brought her. It was more comforting than anything. “What are you doing up?” 

“I should be asking you that,” he said with a slight smile, setting his bowl down. “You don’t have to work all night, you know.” 

“I lost track of time,” she said sheepishly. “What are you eating?” 

“Jook.” A faint blush tinted his cheeks as he gestured back towards the kitchen. “Leya and Lao turned in a few hours ago—they told me to tell you that you had free reign of their ingredients, but I didn’t want you to have to do it yourself after working so hard all day. So I made you something.” 

Her whole expression softened. “Zuko, that’s so sweet.” She crouched down and pecked him on the cheek, warmth blooming in her chest. “I didn’t even know you could cook, being a prince and all.” 

He chuckled. “Uncle taught me some things when we were in Ba Sing Se. I told him I didn’t need it, but I guess some of it stuck.” 

Y/N took his spoon and tried some of the jook in his bowl. Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s surprisingly good.” 

“Surprisingly?” he asked with mock disdain. “Why can’t it just be normally good?” 

“Because,” she said, “I’ve never tried your cooking before.” 

“That just settles it,” Zuko said. “When we’re back in the Fire Nation, I’ll ask the chefs to teach me some things. That way I can really impress you.” 

“You don’t need to impress me, Zuko,” she said, and she stood up and walked over. “Just spending time with you like this is more than enough. We’ve got a lot of it to make up.” 

He managed a soft laugh, but it was bittersweet. “Yeah. We do.” 

Y/N filled her own bowl with jook and then walked back over, settling down next to Zuko. She placed her hand over his, smiling softly at him. “Tell me about your day.” 

“It’s been… a lot,” he said. “I’ve helped tear down a lot of Fire Nation buildings. I melted a lot of metal.” He chuckled. “If only we brought Toph with us. Her metalbending would make things a lot easier.” 

She laughed. “She’d become the foreman of this place. She could probably redesign everything herself.” 

“What about you?” he asked. 

“I did a lot of healing,” she said. “Turns out that sending a lot of middle-aged men and women that haven’t fought in years into battle against trained soldiers results in a lot of injuries.” 

Zuko frowned. “Was it bad?” 

“Not as bad as it could have been,” Y/N said. “Mostly twists and sprains and artificial cuts. One man got his arm broken, and I have no idea why he didn’t ask for help last night.” She shook her head. “No matter what nation I’m in, men always think they have to act tough.” 

“I’m glad you’re able to help them,” Zuko said. “You know you’re amazing, right?” 

She playfully shoved him. “Stop it.” 

“Never.” He shrugged. “Like you said, I have a lot of time to make up for.” 

“I guess flattery’s a good place to start,” she said coyly. 

“It’s easier if you just accept it,” he said sagely, “because I’m not going to stop.” 

Y/N laughed and leaned against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her. “What was it like being back and seeing everyone? Did they all recognize you?” 

“Maybe not immediately, but everyone knew my name.” Y/N smiled. “People don’t really forget the only waterbenders in village history.” 

“Do you think this’ll ever be your home again?” Zuko asked.

“It’ll always be my home,” Y/N mused. “It’s where I was born, where I grew up. There’s a part of me in this village, and there always will be. But…” she sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know if I’ll ever live here again. I’ve been traveling all over with my friends for the past couple months, and it just feels like I’ve… outgrown it.”

“I understand,” Zuko said. “You’re different than the girl that grew up here. You’ve changed, and that’s not a bad thing.”

“I know. It just feels like betraying who I am.”

“A part of you is in this village,” Zuko said, “and a part of this village is in you. Just because you’re going somewhere else doesn’t mean you’re forgetting who you are.”

“When did you get so wise?” she asked, craning her neck to look up at him. 

“Years of traveling with my uncle,” he said, and she laughed. 

They spent the rest of the night idly chatting and finishing up their meal, and by the time they turned in, the village was completely dark. 

It was quiet as they settled into bed together, Zuko’s arms around her setting her at ease. She felt safe next to him. 

(Spirits, how she’d missed feeling safe.)

-

“Are you sure you have to leave so soon?” Leya questioned, her gaze watchful even as she stood in the kitchen.

“We have a war to end,” Y/N said, only slightly joking. “I’ll be back sooner than you know.” 

“You’re making us all so proud, Y/N.” Lao patted her on the shoulder, and then he pulled her into a hug. “People will tell stories of you centuries from now, I know it. You’ve made history.” 

“I’m just glad our people are finally free,” she said softly. 

“And you, son.” Lao pulled away and looked down at Zuko, respect in his eyes. “Your path hasn’t been easy, but you’ve made it here. You’re welcome in our corner of the Earth Kingdom anytime.” 

“I’m just doing what’s right,” Zuko said, but she could see the beginnings of his pleased smile. 

“And sometimes that is the hardest thing to do.” Leya came over with a large basket, smile beaming down on the two of them as she handed it to Y/N. “This should be enough for your journey back and to share with the rest of your group.”

Y/N frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Of course we are,” Lao said. “Without the Fire Nation leeching off of us, we’ve got plenty to spare.”

“Thank you,” Zuko said. “This means a lot.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Leya said, and she grasped Y/N’s hands. “Promise me that you’ll be careful.”

“We’ll try our best,” she vowed, and she glanced at Zuko with a smile. “I’ve got a lot of good people with me.”

“You,” Leya pointed at Zuko, tone motherly as ever, “make sure nothing happens to her.”

“That was already the plan,” he said with a chuckle.

“So,” Lao said wryly, “what’s the next thing I should expect from our heroes and the Avatar?” 

Y/N smiled inwardly. “Change is coming. That’s for sure.”

-

The ride back to camp was quiet, but different kind of quiet from before. Y/N and Zuko switched off on flying shifts, occasional conversation filling the gaps—more often than not, though, they just sat together. Her head on his shoulder, his arm around her, her fingers rifling through his hair. 

The fresh air invigorated Y/N. She felt like a whole new person, the dread and anger and heaviness she’d been carrying with her for months steadily dissolving.

Zuko’s constant presence was nice too.

Without her inner dread, supremely thick tension, and a week of sleep deprivation, she was actually able to enjoy the trip back home. It went quicker than the ride there, and she never thought she would be so thankful to see an island. 

Tiny specks in the distance turned into her friends the closer they got, and she and Zuko shared a smile. Y/N was going to have a lot of explaining to do. 

“You guys are finally back!” Sokka exclaimed once they were in hearing distance. “Where did you even go?” 

“You’ve got some nerve leaving like that without a word!” Katara yelled, but the moment Y/N slid off of Appa’s side she barreled over and pulled her into a hug. She knocked the air out of her completely, but Y/N laughed as she wrapped her arms around her in turn. 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “It was something important.” 

“She’s been worried sick about you,” Toph spoke up. 

“So have you!” Aang piped in. “You were asking about it y—” 

Toph punched Aang on the shoulder, and he stopped. “What was that for?” 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Toph said, cheeks flushing pink. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Sokka interrupted. “Where did you two even go?” 

Y/N let out a long deep breath, and Zuko nodded supportively when she glanced at him. “We… went back to my village. The other day was the anniversary of my father’s death, so I went to honor him.” 

“Oh, Y/N,” Katara murmured, and she pulled her back into a hug. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“I thought it was something I had to do on my own,” Y/N said, pulling away after a grateful moment. “If I had my way, I would have. But Zuko pushed his way on.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re so stubborn,” Zuko said. “Besides, it was obviously the right move.” 

Sokka frowned. “You guys are being really nice to each other.” 

Aang’s eyes lit up. “Did you two have your life changing field trip?” 

It was Y/N’s turn to frown. “Life changing field trip?” 

“That’s what they’re calling it,” Toph explained. “All the trips that they’ve gone on with Zuko to be his friend or whatever. I still haven’t had one.” 

Zuko stared at her. “I woke up with rocks in my bed every day for a week.” 

“Yeah, but we didn’t go anywhere,” she grumbled at the ground. 

Y/N chuckled, though her expression sobered. “I thought I was just going to remember my father, but it turned out that the Fire Nation was still occupying my village. So Zuko and I pushed them out.” 

Katara’s eyebrows shot up. “Just like that?” 

“It wasn’t that easy—” Zuko said, but he was interrupted when Sokka patted—or rather hit—him on the back. 

“Nice going, buddy! That’s how you get your girl back.” 

He glared daggers at Sokka but Y/N just laughed. “It took a lot of fighting and some haphazard plans, but… yeah. We took my village back. My people are free, and I got to see my father’s grave.” 

Katara’s entire expression softened. “I’m so happy for you, Y/N. That’s— that’s amazing. And… is it back?” 

Y/N nodded with a smile, and she formed a ball of water out of the air. “My bending is officially back.” 

Katara screamed and she nearly tackled Y/N with another hug. “Thank the spirits! I knew you could do it!”  

“Life changing field trip always works,” Aang mused. 

“Well, whatever you did, it worked,” Toph said. “I’m happy I don’t have to see the two of you mope around all the time anymore.” 

Zuko frowned. “You can’t see.” 

“Trust me,” Toph muttered, “some things transcend sight.”

Y/N smiled, and she took Zuko’s hand, tears welling in her eyes. “I really missed you guys.” 

-

Later, once they’d unpacked all their things from Appa and properly decompressed, Y/N found herself sitting on her own by the cliffside once again. This time, though, she wasn’t trying to hide her mourning from her friends or foster the burning inside of her chest. Instead, she played with an orb of water in the air, a small smile on her lips at the effortlessness of it all. Not only were they surrounded by water on all sides, but the Fire Nation’s climate meant there would always be moisture in the air. 

Oh, how she’d missed her bending. 

She didn’t flinch when she heard footsteps behind her, able to see the reflection in her orb—instead, she flicked her hand and shot the water back at her visitor. 

“Hey!” Zuko complained, sputtering as it struck him in the face. “What was that for?” 

She giggled as she turned her head. “I had to make sure you remember who you’re dealing with.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, grimacing a bit as he wiped water droplets off his face, “my girlfriend is super powerful and can take down anyone. That doesn’t mean you have to take me down.” 

“Oh, you’re so dramatic.” Y/N smiled as she stood up and flexed her fingers, drawing all the water out of his clothes. “It was barely anything.” 

“This time,” Zuko said, and he gestured around them with a wry smile. “We’ve got a whole ocean around us.” 

“I’m not that powerful,” she said. 

“Maybe,” Zuko said, “but I don’t trust you and Katara together.” 

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” She chuckled as she took his hand. “What’d you come over here for?” 

“You’re not allowed to mope around by yourself anymore,” Zuko said. “We’re having a campfire and digging into some of the food Leya gave us.” 

“I’m not moping,” she complained. 

“Not anymore,” Zuko clarified, and he chuckled at her expression. “Still. You have to join us.” 

“Of course,” Y/N said, and they started walking over together. “I’m excited for some actual food after the past few months.” 

Zuko frowned. “I made you jook last night. That was perfectly good food.” 

“You know what I mean,” she groaned. “Yes, it was perfectly good food. I’m just excited for more of Lao’s xiaolongbao. That man makes miracles in the kitchen.” 

“I’ll have to get him to give me the recipe next time we visit,” Zuko mused. 

She looked at him, slightly surprised. “You want to go back?” 

“Of course,” he said. “It’s the place you’re from. And besides,” he shrugged, slightly bolstered, “I am one of the saviors of the village.” 

She laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder. 

“Of course.”

-

“It’s about time you guys got here,” Toph grumbled. “Katara won’t let any of us eat.” 

“They’re here now,” she said, “you can—” 

Katara didn’t even get to finish her sentence before Toph started digging in, and she just shook her head with a sigh. 

“We’re glad that you’re here,” she offered with a slight smile. 

“Katara’s mostly glad that you’re back,” Sokka said, his mouth full of food earning him a glare from his sister. “I think you two have separation anxiety or something.” 

“Can you blame me?” Katara defended. “You were gone for weeks and we had no idea what happened to you. You can’t just up and disappear with Zuko.” 

“To be fair, you tried to do the same thing,” Sokka said. 

“To be fair, you thought Y/N was going to kill Zuko,” Katara shot back. 

Zuko’s eyes widened slightly. “Uh, no. We never went that far.” 

Not with him at least, Y/N thought with the smallest bit of guilt. Not for what she did, but for keeping it from her friends. That was a whole other problem she had to deal with, and definitely not tonight. 

(Maybe not ever.) 

“Let’s talk about something else,” Y/N said, and Zuko put his arm around her, pulling her close. She couldn’t help but smile. “What have you guys been up to while we’ve been gone?” 

“It was only three days,” Sokka said. “We didn’t get up to that much.” But he wouldn’t stop staring at them, and Zuko frowned. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “I just realized I’ve never been around you two when you actually liked each other.” 

Zuko’s cheeks flushed bright pink as Y/N laughed. “You really haven’t, huh?” 

“Why did you have to say that?” Toph groaned. “Now they’re going to be extra gross.” 

“What, you mean like this?” Zuko pulled Y/N into a kiss, but she didn’t even get the chance to enjoy it before something hit the two of them. 

Y/N pulled away and picked it up, scowling at Sokka. “Is this your shoe?” 

“There are children here!” he complained. “You two really are gross.” 

“I think it’s sweet,” Katara said, and she hit Sokka on the shoulder. “Leave them alone.” 

“I’m just trying to protect the sanctity of this place!” he exclaimed. 

“I’m on Sokka’s side,” Toph piped in.

 As the group devolved into accusations and conversation with occasional pauses for food, she leaned into Zuko’s side and sighed contentedly. 

This was the life she’d been chasing so long. All they had to do was end the war. 

And after everything she’d been through, that seemed like the easiest part of the journey. 

-

Things cooled down after a while, and they began to go their separate ways. Sokka and Suki went off together, Aang went to meditate and clear his mind, and Toph went off to do spirits knows what. Y/N was close to nodding off against Zuko’s side—she was sure he already had himself—when she heard Katara’s voice. 

“Hey,” she said, gesturing away from the fire with her head, “can I have you for a second?” 

Y/N nodded, yawning as she tried to blink the grogginess out of her vision, and the two of them walked over. “What’s up?” 

“This is something I’ve been wanting to give to you for a while, but it hasn’t been the right moment.” Katara grinned. “But it is now.” 

She pulled something out from behind her back, and when she presented it Y/N realized it was a water skin, almost identical to the one she’d given her months ago in Gaoling. 

“Both of ours were taken away at Ba Sing Se, but I was able to get a couple new ones from some of the Water Tribe soldiers when we ran into them. And now that you’ve got your bending back…”

Katara trailed off as she offered it up again, but instead Y/N crushed her in a tight embrace.

“Thank you,” she said, unable to hold back her own smile. “For thinking of me even then.”

“Always,” Katara said, returning the gesture with just as much intensity. When she pulled away, her eyes shone.

“It’s good to see you like this,” she said softly. “Happier. Lighter. You look better than you have in months.” 

“I feel better,” Y/N admitted. “I know that I needed to forgive Zuko, and maybe it was the spirits’ plan to make the road so treacherous. But it feels so good to have him again.” 

“It feels good to not have you two arguing all the time,” she said wryly. 

Y/N chuckled. “Just imagine how I feel.” 

“What do you think is next for you two?” Katara asked. “After the war is over, I mean.”

“I haven’t really thought that far in the future,” she admitted. “After everything, I’m just trying to live in the moment.” 

“I think that’s a perfect idea.” 

Y/N smiled. “So do I.” 

-

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[howlingday]

Jaune's Shampoo

Mawraider

"DAMMIT, NORA!" Jaune opened his shower door. As he exited, he noticed his body had drastically changed. Using a mixture of his shampoo and experimental goo found at the fiendish Dr. Merlot's laboratory, Nora had unwittingly created a mutagen just to prank her team leader.

Jaune pushed his way through the shower door, a loud crash echoing through the steamy room. He fell to the floor, catching himself on the slick tiles for a moment before his body scraped underneath him, and his chin smashed into the hard ceramic beneath. He gave a groan as he felt the aching and stinging in his mouth. He ran his tongue across to find where his teeth may be missing from, if there were at all.

"Huh." None were missing. "Guess I got lucky."

This luck was short-lived as he pushed himself to his arms, but his legs felt stuck. Actually, stuck wasn't the right word. Stuck implies individual movement hindered by another. This felt like he was moving both legs as one.. if that made sense, which it didn't for him.

"What the heck?" Jaune looked down, eyes nearly bulging as he saw large protrusions from his forearms. Were those... fins?! Not only that, but these fins had scales, too! He looked further down his torso and discovered his, er, other body parts were gone! Everything below his belly button was replaced by a long, solid white tail with fringes of yellow at his sides! "What the hell is going on?!"

"Would you keep it down in there?!" Jaune snapped his head to the door, where a melodious screeching voice muffled through. "Whatever 'teenage boy' problems you have can be resolved yourself! Quietly!"

Oh, this was not good. In fact, it was well beyond not good. He'd completely forgotten the study session Nora set up with him and Weiss! Wait, did Nora plan this whole thing together? Oh, she was the absolute worst!

"Uh, Weiss?" Jaune called. "Is there anyone out there with you?"

"No, it's just you and me." Even through the door, he could still hear her say 'Unfortunately' under her breath. "Everyone else is busy with some other study session." Another 'Unfortunately' could be heard, a bit louder this time. "Why? You didn't hurt yourself in there, did you?"

"Uh..." Jaune looked down at his body. "Maybe?"

"Unbelievable." Weiss sneered. "Not only are you late to our study session, but you're also injured." There was a drawn-out sigh for extra drama, as Weiss is wont to do. "Are you at least decent?"

Again, Jaune looked at himself. "Kind of?"

"Can you open the door?"

Dragging himself to said door, he looked up to the knob, realizing how close and yet so far away it was. "I'm here, but I can't reach the lock."

"Do you have your scroll in there, or do I need to get Ruby to emergency unlock it?"

"Uh, no and no! My scroll should be by my bed at the end of the room." Quiet thumps of footsteps grew softer, before returning to their normal timbre. "Um, before you open the door, I need you to promise me something!"

"And that would be?"

"Don't freak out?" He couldn't see, but she was rolling her eyes.

"I assure you," the door came open, "I have seen far worAAAAAIE!" Weiss ran to the dorm room door, slamming it shut behind her as Jaune tried crawling after her. Sadly, her bipedal and still very much human form beat out whatever abomination Jaune had going on.

"Yeah, I'd freak out, too." He said with a sigh.

Jaune crawled his way out of the bathroom, his body dragging across the carpeted floor. He didn't want rug-burn, so he tried his best to keep whatever human skin he still had stayed off the floor. Once he reached the desk, he struggled his way into the chair. Nora and Pyrrha shared a mirror up here for personal use. Looking in, he finally got a good look at himself.

His hair remained it's moppy, blond self, though the skin underneath had become coarser than it used to. Following the trail of yellow scales down, he passed his mouth full of serrated teeth, and caught a glimpse of a dorsal fin jutting from his back. Looking down from the mirror to his body, his pale belly shifted to pearl white down his new tail, which ended in a strange near crescent shape. If Jaune didn't think he was a monster, then this was one heck of a costume.

"What the hell happened?" Jaune asked. "No wonder Weiss ran away."

Weiss freaked out earlier, but how was everyone else going to react? Would Ruby still want to be his friend, or Yang, or Pyrrha, or Ren- Well, Ren was a pretty cool guy, so he'd still be his friend. Nora, too, though he'd be angry with her at first. Blake... Well, him and Blake were more friends of friends already.

Still, his mind raced to all the ridicule and disgust his change would bring upon him. He'd be kicked out of Beacon, ruining his dream. His family would disown him, leaving him out on the streets. He'd have to get a job as a traveling circus freak, or worse, be abducted for science experiments and-

"Here." Jaune looked to his side where a tissue limply hung from the delicate fingers of one Weiss Schnee. "Don't get any shark snot on me."

"Th-Thanks, Weiss." Jaune took the tissue into his clawed fingers, accidentally shredding them, and blew into the clumps of rags. "Ugh."

"My thoughts exactly." Weiss said, setting the box next to him. Taking the box, he grabbed more clumps of tissues. After a long silence without blowing, Weiss spoke. "How did this happen?"

"My best guess..." Jaune gave a sniffle. "Nora."

"I hardly think she's capable of genetically altering a human's body to this degree." Weiss said with a scoff.

"You don't know how bad her pranks can get."

"And when would she have time to change you into... this?"

"She must have put something in my shampoo."

"Hmph. I would have used honey."

"She did, last time." Jaune said, remembering his training session ending with him being attacked by Rapier Wasps that snuck into Beacon, mysteriously by a jar borrowed from Cardin. The former bully swore he had no idea why she needed his jar, but she did threaten to break his legs. "This time, she put it in my shampoo."

"...At least it doesn't smell bad."

"Did you just sniff me?" Jaune asked, looking to his crush. She turned away with a blush.

"I thought it might be a clue of how you changed into this!" She nearly screamed. "It's not my fault coconut and lemon would turn you into this!"

"Coconut and lemon?" Jaune asked. "I think that was my shampoo."

"Maybe." She said. "Do you remember the ingredients?"

"Uh... no?" He sheepishly chuckled. Sharkishly? Whatever. "All the ad said was that it was 'spicy fruit' that would 'make me smell like a big fish in a big pond'."

"Of course it did. It's Advertising 101: The Truth Doesn't Sell."

"Do you... Do you think there's a cure?"

Weiss was quiet for a long time. She walked over to the window and tapped into her scroll. She gave a huff and continued to do so. Having enough of looking at himself, Jaune fell from his chair as he attempted to climb down. He crawled over to his bed, his claws digging into the blankets and sheets he made that morning. He tried to lay on his back, only to feel uncomfortable as his dorsal fin almost bent, and chose to lay on his stomach instead. He watched her work tirelessly.

In the afternoon light, she looked like an angel. He fell asleep with those thoughts.

An hour passed when the rest of Team JNPR returned to their dorm. Weiss was asleep next to Jaune, her hand in his hair as they quietly dozed. Nora beamed at her partner. He simply sighed.

"I told you it would work~."

A special thank you to @rwby-encrusted-blog for the inspiration of this work. I hope it's up to your standards.