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writing-intheundercroft · 1 year ago

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The Night Shift

AO3 Link

Pairing: Auror!Sebastian x F!MC

Word Count: 10,206

Rating: T (just some smooches but plenty of angst)

Summary: You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.

A/N: Took a break from my long fics this week to deliver a long angsty Seb one shot. I heard Phoebe Bridgers cover Night Shift and became feral over it. Perhaps it needs a smutty part two???

Night One

“I’m so glad you were able to slip away from work for a bit.” Poppy says, pouring tea into your cup.

You smile up at the brunette girl, who still wears her hair in a cropped bob, albeit a bit more fashionable now that you’re in your twenties. You miss Poppy’s presence in your life, but her career as a mazoologist and yours as a lead healer in the intensive care unit of St. Mungo’s has your schedules rarely crossing.

“It’s nice to be out in the sunlight,” you say coyly, lifting the cup to your mouth. It's the truth–you haven’t been out to tea with a friend, dressed in a pretty lace gown in what feels like ages. Your career usually has you in a tightly pulled bun, hair out of your face to focus on your patients, with bloodied aprons. Magic can heal most ailments, but your ancient abilities make you the best bet for the most gravely wounded. So much so that you’ve worked six nights a week every week for the past five years, sleeping during the day to make it to your overnight shifts at the hospital.

With few exceptions.

But there’s coverage today, giving you a rare Saturday afternoon off to enjoy the warm spring day. You and Poppy are sitting outside a tea shop in Diagon Alley, catching up on all things personal, while people watching. It’s strange, you think, to be surrounded by so many people. You leave for your shift at seven thirty in the evening, when most people are getting home for dinner, and return to your flat far after everyone has left for work.

Poppy had just started telling you a story about a wild herd of manticores she’d encountered on her travels abroad, when a familiar face walked up to your table.

“Merlin’s beard, I never thought I’d see the likes of you two ever again,” Andrew Larson grins.

“Andrew,” Poppy smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

There are obligatory kisses on the cheek as the handsome Ravenclaw pulls up a chair. “What are you doing in town, Poppy?”

“Visiting my gran, of course.” She tilts her head towards you. “And catching up with friends.”

“And you, it’s like you’re back from beyond the grave.” Andrew shifts his attention, teasing you. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just busy keeping people from their graves, that’s all.”

“I’ve heard.” Andrew elbows you. “Youngest lead healer in all of St. Mungo’s.”

“Yet being the youngest earned me the night shift.” You wrinkle your nose. “And very few days off.”

“How’s the auror office doing?” Poppy quips, leaning her chin into her palm.

Andrew shrugs. “Busy; we’re working on a big case right now, but we finally got a few hours off to enjoy lunch. I was just heading over to the Cauldron, meeting Sallow and Clopton for a bite.”

You swallow thickly. It’s been five years since you last spoke to Sebastian Sallow. At this point, you can’t exactly remember how it ended, except that the two of you had screamed at one another. You were fairly certain you’d thrown a book at his head, and he’d knocked over your favorite mug in the process. You still had it, the handle broken off, now used as a quill holder at your desk.

“Oi, Larson! Quit flirting, we’ve just gotten a message. All hands on deck at the office.”

Both you and Poppy turn to the voice; Everett Clopton is standing a few paces away, wearing a smart suit. He still has his gold wire glasses, but he’s grown into them. He’s wearing a hat, tipping the brim to you both in acknowledgement.

You hate the way your breath hitches when you see their companion. Sebastian is also dressed well, sporting a tweed three piece suit, shiny black dress shoes, and a gold auror badge attached to his lapel. He meets your gaze briefly before looking back up to Andrew, who’s moving the chair back to its proper table.

“Emergency meeting,” Sebastian utters gloomily. “Ruined a good lunch.”

Your stomach twists at the sound of his voice. It’s no more than six words, but your insides feel like a wet towel being wrung out. And Sebastian doesn’t even have the decency to look at you, avoiding eye contact with the person he considered his best friend for three years. The audacity of him, to completely ignore the person who once held his fate in their hands–you feel the bile rising in your throat, swallowing down the anger that once consumed you.

No, you won’t let a tiny interaction with Sebastian ruin five years of hard work. You stare at the cutlery on the table, willing him to leave.

Andrew Larson sighs, rapping his knuckles against the table. “It was good seeing you girls,” he smiles. “Hopefully I run into you again.”

The three boys–men, rather, you are all twenty three at this point–shuffle away.

There is a heavy silence between you and Poppy, until she clears her throat.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

You nod, collecting yourself as you smile at her. “Perfectly fine. It’s been ages, Poppy. We’re all over it.”

She grabs your gloved hand, pulling it towards her. “You certainly are,” she says playfully, twisting the sparkling bauble on your left ring finger. “It’s gorgeous, by the way.”

“I never get to wear it,” you admit sheepishly. It’s been a month since your engagement, and you’ve hardly worn your ring; your fiance’s parents are perturbed that the announcement hasn’t been posted to the Daily Prophet yet. Despite having courted for the last year and a half, it still feels like everything has moved too fast, like you’ve fallen off your broom mid flight. For the most part, your engagement ring is safely tucked in its box atop your dresser, at the risk of getting bodily fluids on it during your shifts.

“He’s a lucky man.” Poppy echoes, sitting back in her chair. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

You’re doing fine, you think. You’re at the top of your field. You have a fine flat in a nice part of London, and a promise from a man that’s kind to you. The kind of man who waited for you to get off your shift to bring you breakfast, and took you to a nice restaurant on your Friday nights off. You hadn’t expected a pretty ring from him, especially since you only graced him with your presence once a week, but then again, your last relationship had taught you not to expect anything at all.

A flash of brunette hair crosses your mind; you blink away the thought.

“I’m happy. Very happy,” you say simply, holding your teacup up to your lips again. “So about the manticores…”

You jolt out of bed, a blue wisp of a rabbit bouncing around your bedroom. It’s rare to get a patronus message at this hour; it can only mean an emergency at the hospital. It also must be bad, considering they’re calling you in on your day off.

Without another thought, you tumble out of bed, rushing to your wardrobe to pull out your clothes. Your unit specifically wears a deep purple–dark enough to hide stains. Your shrug on undergarments and petticoats, and a burgundy gown with a high neckline. Your hands know exactly how to tighten your hair into a knot within a minute, having perfected the craft over the five years of your career. Your wand is stowed in your dress pocket; you’ll grab an apron at the ward. Grabbing a fistful of floo powder next to your fireplace, you step in, yelling out for St. Mungo’s.

The ward is in a flurry as you step out of the flames. A nurse hands you a white cotton apron, which you wrap around your waist as you hold your wand between your teeth. There are men all over, gashed and bleeding, as other healers take their information.

“What’s happened?” You bark at an orderly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Auror ambush by some ashwinders,” he says dryly. “It’s awful. Lost a few–even more are bleeding. It’s dark magic, some sort of spell to keep the wounds bleeding.”

“Of course it is, those bastards.” You mutter. “I’ll take the worst of them. Can someone bring me a coffee?”

He nods, pointing over to a bay of beds a few feet away. “Those three–they specifically requested you.” He hands off the charts, promising a caffeinated beverage.

You’re about to start flipping through the charts when you hear your name. Your head flies up at the familiar voice, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You can see Everett Clopton waving his hands at you; Andrew Larson’s voice is yelling behind the curtain. And just your luck, a pair of black shiny dress shoes are dangling off the examination table, twisted in an unnatural way.

Before you even realize it, you’re running to them. The charts are promptly cast onto the side table when you duck behind the curtain, a gasp catching in your throat.

Sebastian looks awful.

Correction–Sebastian looks dead.

“He jumped in front of me,” Everett panics, his hands on his head. “He shouldn’t have–we were talking, we thought we were out of the thick of it–”

“He’s been hit badly,” Andrew interjects. His sleeves are bloodied from trying to apply pressure to a gash across Sebastian’s chest, the blood seeping through his shirt and vest. “You have to do something,” he pleads. “He’s the best of us–we can’t lose him.”

“Move,” you urge the two of them. They scoot out of your way, and you make quick work of Sebastian’s clothing.

Years ago, tearing off Sebastian’s shirt would’ve been done out of passion, out of love. You push those thoughts out of your mind as you rip through his white dress shirt, which is sopping wet with blood. Sebastian’s skin is cold and clammy; even his freckles are pale, disappearing from his face.

“Get me some dittany and shrivelfigs,” you screech at the other healers. “And the blood renewing potions, please.” You run your hand and your wand over Sebastian’s wounds, uttering a healing charm. “Vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur,” you mutter under your breath. The spell isn’t healing fast enough, Sebastian is still losing too much blood.

You let out the blue wisps of magic from your fingertips as you channel some of your ancient magic into the healing spell. You’re still mad at Sebastian, of course, but you’ll be damned if he dies on your watch.

To your relief, the wounds start knitting themselves shut faster, but the scars look awful, all purpled and raised. Another healer is next to you, urgently crushing the dittany and shrivelfigs into a paste–an idea you got from the patient lying in front of you during your sixth year. You’d been battered so often during Crossed Wands, the two of you had experimented with salves and balms to lessen the appearance of your scars.

“He appears to be stabilizing,” the junior healer claims. “Good job, as always.”

You suppress the choked out cry that’s stuck in your throat as you think of Ominis, and how he used to scold the two of you for experimenting. He’d be thankful now that you did.

“There’s others,” another healer urges you. “We must move on to the next.”

You don’t want to. Sebastian seems to be stirring, groaning as the healer rubs the salve onto the gaping wound that streaks across his chest. You can hear Everett and Andrew crying and laughing on the other side of the curtain, exclaiming your name for having saved their partner.

There’s so much commotion, you could swear Sebastian uttered your name, but when you look back, his head is flat on the table, eyes shut. The color is slowly returning to him, now no longer pale and gray.

“We have to keep him for observation,” you instruct another healer, handing her Sebastian’s chart. “I’ll check on him later. In the meantime, there are others.”

Without another glance, you move on to the next bay.

“Excellent work as always,” your boss pats you on the shoulder. “You saved six good men tonight with your quick work.”

“I should just move into the ward,” you mutter under your breath before taking a large swig of coffee.

Your dress is stained with blood, fingers aching from all the healing you’d done. From the twelve aurors in the ambush, three had superficial wounds (Larson and Clopton included). Two had passed in the field, another before you’d gotten to the hospital. But all six of the aurors you’d treated, Sebastian included, were now tucked into private rooms, safe and breathing. You were keeping them for observation, unsure of what kind of curse the ashwinders had used on them. Your ancient magic managed to seal the wounds, but all were badly scarring. They’d all have to stay until you could rule out the cause.

After a much needed shower and an owl sent to your fiance, regretfully informing him you’d not make it to brunch with his parents, you start making your rounds. Most of your patients are sleeping deeply, others dizzily asking what happened. You save Sebastian’s room for last; Clopton and Larson, faithful companions, are sleeping in chairs outside of his room.

You quietly shut the door behind you, gulping as you stare at the man laying in the hospital bed. His chubby cheeks are long gone, hollowed and chiseled by age. You’d laughed at him when you were seventeen and he claimed he had a beard coming in; now you can see traces of stubble lining his jaw. His unruly chestnut hair has been brushed out of his face in a way you know he’ll hate.

But you don’t know that, not truly. Because you don’t know Sebastian anymore.

“Oh Sebastian,” you tut, sitting at a stool next to his bed. You hover your hands over his body, a misty blue glow emitting from them. No internal bleeding at least. He’s had at least three blood renewing potions, and his breathing is steady. You would examine the scars across his chest and torso, but the thought of undressing him in his current state is inappropriate to you.

You’re about to get up, leave him to his slumber when you hear it. He whispers your name in his sleep, head falling to the side. And instead of him being the one with a gaping wound, you feel like a hole has been drilled into your chest.

Maybe you’ll ask for tomorrow off.

Night Two

You’d asked for the day off again, but the request was denied. Begrudgingly, you dress for your shift, tucking your hair behind your ears as you walk with your daytime counterpart down the hallway.

“You’ve missed all the commotion,” your fellow healer gasps. She’s filling you in on the day shift, and all that’s transpired since you left in the morning. “There was a memory charm laced in with that blood curse from the ashwinders—some of them have lost weeks, years of memories. Not recognizing their wives or their children; we’ve had to close the doors to all visitors.”

“That’s a nasty curse.” You mutter, flipping through charts. Only someone sick in the head would mess with memory tampering curses—you wonder why no one has petitioned for them to be banned. The long term care wing at St. Mungos is filled with too many people who’d tinkered with memory spells, and you sincerely hope none of the aurors under your care end up there.

“Terrible, of course. But it made for an interesting day.” She hums. “You should’ve seen Rowle’s wife, security had to cart her out after he called her the wrong name. Think he courted her twin sister too.”

You laugh with her as you walk through the hallway, until your heart fills with dread.

“How is Sallow? The patient in 213.”

She tilts her head. “Fine I think–oh, he was asking for you. Do you know him?”

You fight back the red flush that’s creeping up your neck. “We were schoolmates.” You say. Nothing more. Sebastian can’t be more, especially after you’d done such hard work to forget him in the first place.

After your colleague has clocked out and you’ve checked all your other patients, you quietly rap your knuckles against Sebastian’s door. It’s late enough at night that he might be asleep already, and you can avoid the entire awkward conversation.

“Come in!”

Shit.

You open the door, and Sebastian is staring right back at you. He isn’t scowling like you thought he would be–his eyes are bright, a beaming smile on his lips.

“They told me you were working the night shift.” he says happily, scratching at the collar of his hospital gown. “I stayed awake.”

“Right, Mr. Sallow,” You say curtly, eyes down at the chart in front of you. “It is late, you should be getting rest–”

“But I’ve been waiting for you,” he frowns.

You look up at him, and instead of a grown man, you see the puppy dog eyes that got you in trouble the few years you had at Hogwarts. “Mr. Sallow, rest is essential to your healing. You’ve been through quite the ordeal, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Why are you talking to me like you don’t know me?” Sebastian asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Pet, it’s me.”

You inhale sharply, white knuckling the edge of the bed. “Sebastian,” you mutter (you hate how easily his name rolls off your lips still), “what year do you think it is?”

He rolls his eyes and chuffs. “It’s 1893, duh.”

“It’s not,” you sigh. “It’s 1898. You were in an ambush yesterday, and it seems the Ashwinders are using a memory curse as retaliation nowadays.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before he bursts into laughter. “Really? I’ve lost five damn years in my head? What have I missed? Don’t tell me we’re not married yet.” Only Sebastian could be jovial about such a matter; all the others were utterly distraught at losing their memories.

“Sebastian, darling, we haven’t seen each other in five years.” you confess, moving to the edge of the bed. Your voice is quiet, and although it’s been ages since you last called him darling, you think it might be too much on his poor heart if you don’t. The poor man just asked if you were married, for Merlin’s sake.

His smile fades. “What?”

“We…we went our separate ways five years ago.” You clear your throat. “It…it was a mutual decision.” you lie. Was it a lie? You honestly can’t remember.

“I would never,” Sebastian bites back. “I would never break up with you.”

“Darling, it’s been a very long time,” you say softly, wringing your hands together. “And I’m okay–you’re okay. We’re both doing well…just on our own now.”

“I can’t–this doesn’t make sense,” he jolts away from your touch, and you flinch. “Why would I ever agree to such a thing?”

You can recognize the tell tale signs of panic on a patient’s face, so you hurry over to the cupboard, pouring a glass of water. Sebastian is too far away to see you slip the vial of dreamless sleep into the glass, swirling it into oblivion.

“Here, drink this. You’ll feel much better,” you assure him.

Sebastian absentmindedly takes the glass, gulping down the water as he tries to make sense of the current situation. “It doesn’t make sense,” he mutters under his breath as he starts rubbing his eyes. He’s fighting the effects, and he looks up at you, a deep set frown on his face. “You dosed me, dammit.” The glass rolls out of his hand and onto the bed, where you scoop it up.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it's sincere. But you’re not equipped to handle Sebastian in such a state–you aren’t equipped to handle him, period. It’s been five years since you’ve had to mind his temper, and your heart can’t handle the pain.

Before you know it, Sebastian is knocked out, the dreamless sleeping draught taking over his body. With his eyes tightly shut, you can finally examine him. The scars across his chest are still purple, bruises lining his torso. Your fingers dance across his skin trying to heal him, but alas, they stay.

You make notes on his chart, letting the other healers know he may be groggy and upset when he wakes in the morning. Even though they’ve put a no visitors policy on the aurors, you remind them to call upon Ominis and Anne to see if they can talk some sense into him.

The last you’d asked Natty about Sebastian, he was happy. He was climbing up the ranks in the auror office, and he’d finally moved out of Ominis’s spare room. You’d cut her off once she started telling you how he was dating–that you didn’t need to know.

That had been two years ago. You wonder what’s changed since then.

Night Three

Your pleas for a night off have gone unanswered. Your boss tells you that you’re too integral to the auror case to be gone for more than twelve hours.

There’s a note left by your fiance’s owl; he’s sad you missed brunch, but he’s excited to take you out on Friday, your next scheduled day off. His mother is insistent the two of you sit for an engagement portrait that will be posted in the Daily Prophet to announce your impending union. You fold the note and toss it onto your desk; when you have a free moment, you’ll write a letter explaining that you would like a lengthy engagement.

Planning a wedding and working the night shift is just too much work for you. You twist your large engagement ring off your finger and put it in its box before taking the floo network to St. Mungo’s.

You’re barely five steps out of the fireplace before a body hits you.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Anne Sallow breathes, her arms enveloping you. “You saved him. He’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Anne,” you sigh into her touch. Similar to her brother, it’s been ages since you’ve seen her. She’s still thin and delicate, but her bangs are long grown out. “What are you still doing here? It’s so late.”

“Ominis and I wanted to catch you,” she claims. “The healers called us in to talk to Sebastian.”

“Right, I asked them to.” you say, smoothing your apron. “How was he today?”

Anne winces. “He’s…he’s still pretty confused.”

You give her a sympathetic smile, biting back the sarcastic words you had in mind. “It must be awful.”

Anne pulls away, digging her toe into the ground. “He keeps asking what happened between the two of you. I’m not sure what to say.” she admits.

You bite your lower lip. “You can tell him the truth. That we ended amicably. That we were fine.”

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t have disappeared for five years.” a voice says behind you.

It only takes you a second to recognize the rich voice of Ominis Gaunt. Whirling around, you throw your arms around the tall blonde. It’s been ages since you’ve given him a hug let alone seen him, so he chuckles into your shoulder when you grasp him.

“I missed you,” you pat his cheek.

“We missed you,” Ominis hums. “I’m surprised St. Mungo’s would call me; I haven’t been Sebastian’s emergency contact for a while.”

You furrow your eyebrows as Anne takes Ominis’s arm. Why wouldn’t he be his emergency contact? Ominis is his best friend, and having been together with Anne for so long, practically his brother.

That’s a question for another time, you decide.

“It’s late, you two should be getting home. Visitor hours are over.” you remind them.

“I’m not leaving before you promise to see me again,” Ominis says sternly. “Five years is far too long.”

You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Ominis, I’m sorry. I just thought that when things ended, the two of you were best friends…”

“That was my decision to make,” he says softly. “Not yours. I decide whose side I’m on.”

Ominis’s words warm your heart, but they also leave cracks. Ominis and Sebastian were a package deal when you met them, and you’ve spent far too much of your time with the boys driving them apart.

After much coaxing, Ominis and Anne take their leave. You’re finally able to start your rounds. Rowle is starting to regain his memories and they’ve allowed his wife back into the ward. Travers still has a nasty gash on his leg that’s festering, but he’s otherwise remembering things from last week. Cattermole is fast asleep, so you avoid his room to let him get some more rest.

Your hand falters on the handle of room 213, taking a deep breath before you push in. Just as you thought, Sebastian isn’t asleep. He’s sitting upright in bed, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at you.

“You’re looking much better,” you offer, shutting the door behind you.

“You gave me a sleeping draught last night,” he accuses you. “That’s not fair.”

“You were getting hysterical, Sebastian.” you remind him, flipping through his chart. Nothing particularly new, and no memories back. He’s spent the entire day asking for you, the chart says, and fighting with orderlies. It mentions Ominis and Anne arriving, and that the two gentlemen had sharp words for one another. Ominis was right—he isn’t Sebastian’s emergency contact anymore. There’s an unfamiliar name, a woman.

“Open your shirt, please.”

Sebastian waggles his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure we’re not together?”

You roll your eyes. “Your cheekiness, I didn’t miss it.” you mutter, hands on your hips. “I need you to take your shirt off so I can check your wounds, you idiot.”

Sebastian gives you a familiar grin as he unbuttons his pajama shirt; he’s flexing his muscles, you can tell. A pinch to his pectoral has him yowling, and he stops. You grin at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Perhaps we did break up,” he grumbles.

Sebastian’s breath stutters as your fingers prod at his scars. They’re still ugly and raised, but the color is improving.

“I’m not sure there’s much more I can do,” you frown. “I think they’ll stay.”

“That’s fine,” Sebastian breathes. “You did always say you preferred when I was roughed up.”

You give him a strained look. “Sebastian–”

“Please, listen to me.” Sebastian urges. “Ominis…he told me what happened between us. And I really, truly can’t believe we would let it get to that.” Your name is a gentle whisper from his mouth, and he pushes his brunette hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

You swallow thickly, backing up. “We were so young, Sebastian. Let’s leave the past in the past, please.”

“Ominis and I haven’t spoken in two years.” Sebastian interjects. “He just told me. Annie says we had a fight, and you were part of it.”

You turn around, shutting your eyes. “I don’t want to hear this,” you admit weakly.

Sebastian is rustling in his sheets; he lets out a low hiss as he adjusts his still healing torso. “If the version of me, the one that got cursed, isn’t talking to you, Anne, or Ominis…I don’t want to go back to that. I don’t want to be that version of me.” Sebastian pleads. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to remember.”

“You have friends, Sebastian.” You remind him, turning to face him again. “You have friends, your job…” you trail off, picking up his chart again. You pinpoint the section with his emergency contact; a woman who is likely sitting at home, worried sick over him. “You have a girlfriend, probably. One who is desperate to see you.” There’s a lump in your throat as you try to imagine her, but your mind comes up blank.

“I don’t care,” Sebastian breathes. “She’s a stranger.”

“I’m the stranger,” you remind him. “Sebastian…I’m engaged. I’m getting married next spring.”

That’s a lie–you and your fiance haven’t even discussed a timeline, but it seems more official to say it with a season.

The hope on Sebastian’s face crumbles, eyes wide as he stares at you.

“You’re engaged,” he croaks.

“Engaged.” The more you say it, the more it’s real. “He’s lovely. You would like him.” Now that's an even bigger lie–Sebastian would’ve called him a prat if he met him. You appreciate your fiance’s softness and meekness, especially after having been with a firecracker hothead for most of your teens.

Sebastian is crumpled in bed, twisting onto his side. “I’d like to go to bed now,” he mumbles. It was textbook Sebastian–whenever something didn’t go his way, he’d turn away from you in bed like a petulant child. It’s almost a relief to see that he does the same thing at twenty three years old.

“If you ring the bell, someone will come to aid you.” You wave your wand, dimming the lights. “You can ask for someone else, if you’d like.”

Sebastian doesn’t say anything as you shut the door, and when he does ring the bell for assistance, he requests anyone but you. It’s stupid to be upset over, it’s what you wanted–for him to stop pestering you.

But you have a nice long cry in the potions ingredient cupboard anyways.

The rest of your shift goes by uneventfully. Rowle has regained his memories and will be discharged in the morning. Cattermole finally woke up from his deep sleep and he’s on the mend, moved out of the intensive care ward. Travers has also been discharged, prescribed a salve to make sure the cut on his leg stays clean. It leaves Roberts, Jorkins, and Sallow as your only three patients left from the case, and perhaps now your boss will let you take a night off.

Night Four

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Sebastian says sheepishly.

“Whatever for?” You mumble, pressing a strip of gauze to his chest wound. You’re trying a new salve recipe you’ve been working on, just to see if it’ll help break down the scar tissue. His bruises are starting to go yellow, and if he works back up on his memory, Sebastian can be discharged from your ward.

“For being rude.” Sebastian sighs. “I’m…it’s starting to come back to me a bit now.”

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. “Is it?”

“We fought that night.” Sebastian swallows thickly. “You and me. I can’t exactly remember what we fought about, but you threw a book at me.”

“And I hit your eyebrow.” You remind him.

“Lucky shot,” Sebastian rolls his eyes, and you have to suppress a laugh. He winces as you press the salve in; his body is still sensitive.

“I’m sorry for that. I never got to apologize to you,” you admit, rubbing the mixture in. “But I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what?” Sebastian asks softly.

“For putting up with all of it,” you pat another piece of gauze over the salve. Sebastian looks like a mess and he’ll have to sleep sitting up, but you’re hoping to salvage his handsome chest. There are a bevy of flower vases strewn across the room, and plenty of Sebastian’s favorite sweets piled on his bedside table.

“I see you had quite a few visitors today.”

Sebastian nods, trying not to move too much. “Anne and Ominis again; he’s warming back up to me, I know it.” he brags. “Clopton and Larson too. I can’t believe I was paired up with two Ravenclaws as partners. That’s probably how I got all bungled up in the first place.”

“Everett said you were quite the hero,” you back away, admiring your work (and his muscles, he’s grown quite a bit since you last saw him). “And they stayed the entire night when you first came into the ward, so I know they’re loyal to you.”

There is a silence between you two for a moment, until Sebastian breaks the tension.

“She visited earlier.” Sebastian echoed. “Rebecca.”

You turn away at the name; at least it’s not the girl you remember from your last argument. “Rebecca is a lovely name,” you offer. It’s all you can give him without treading into dangerous waters. You’re engaged after all, and stuck patting balm into the chest of your former lover.

“She was distraught.” Sebastian hummed. “Hates the scars.”

You turn around, rolling your eyes. “She’s dating an auror, she should get used to it.” you scowl.

“That’s what I said,” Sebastian laughs, trying not to move the salve covered strips. “But she wasn’t having it. She was worried I would never look the same, so I broke up with her.”

You blink at him. He seems completely unbothered.

“Sebastian!” You exclaim. “You shouldn’t break up with her over that alone.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Y’know, the boys filled in a few of the blanks for me. Apparently, not very many people actually liked Rebecca and I together, so I guess it was impending anyways.”

You put your hands on your hips. “I cannot believe you broke up with your girlfriend because Everett Clopton and Andrew Larson told you to.” you shake your head. “She was your emergency contact, Sebastian. You’ve probably been dating a while.”

“According to Clopton, I was planning on breaking up with her soon anyways.”

“Idiots, the lot of you.” You tut, washing your hands in the basin.

“We’d only been dating three months.” Sebastian interjects. “I put her as my emergency contact because I had no one else. Ominis and Anne…well, they weren’t talking to me apparently.”

You don’t say anything, letting the water run over your hands.

“I guess I’ve been a real arse the last few years,” Sebastian echoes. “Everett said I hadn’t been quite myself since we…well, you get the gist.”

“Everyone is an arse when they’re eighteen,” you remind him.

Sebastian snorts. “I’m sure you weren’t.”

“I think I might’ve been.” You chuckle under your breath. “Poppy always said I had a one track mind. Only ever thought about myself, my career.”

“Well, it’s done a lot for you.” Sebastian offers. “Youngest lead healer in St. Mungo’s history.”

You roll your eyes. “The others think I’m a show off.”

“You’re gifted,” he shrugs, and a slice of gauze slips from his chest. “That’s all.”

“Lay back darling,” you advise him, stuffing a pillow behind his back to keep him comfortable.

Sebastian does as you say, his hands balled up in fists at his side. “So, your fiance,” He trails off. “What’s he like?”

You purse your lips, pulling his sheets over his waist. “He’s nice.”

“Nice. That’s it?” Sebastian snorts. “Surely he has some better attributes, you said yes to marrying him.”

“He’s calm, quiet.” you say, turning your back to put away the excess gauze. “He’s a junior secretary for the Minister of Magic.” turning back to Sebastian, you already know he has a smug smile on his face. “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say,” you warn, wagging a finger.

“What?” Sebastian scoffs. “I would never say anything about an esteemed junior secretary,” he says dramatically. “Besides, you’re the one who thought it…”

“I didn’t think anything!” You laugh. “I just knew exactly what you were thinking.”

“And what is that?” Sebastian asks coyly.

“You were going to call him a pencil pusher,” you accuse.

Sebastian fakes a gasp, holding a hand to his chest. “My stars, I would never say such a thing.”

“Stop it,” you laugh again, slapping his hand. “You’re ruining my hard work. I’ll have to do it again.”

“No,” Sebastian groans. “It’s cold. I just want to put a jumper on, I don’t care about the scars.” he pouts.

“I need you to get better,” you hold your hands on your hips. “The auror office will have my head if I keep you here any longer when your colleagues are back home.”

Sebastian fumbles with the edge of the blanket. “And what would consider me healed?”

“Well, I’d say besides the appearance, your physical wounds are fully healed.” You shrug. “But we can’t discharge you until your memories are back–or at least substantially returned.”

Sebastian is quiet, and he stays quiet until you finish putting away all your supplies. You’re about to leave him, implore him to get some rest, when he clears his throat.

“Pet,” he says cautiously (he hasn’t used your old nickname since the second night of his stay).

“Yes, Sebastian?” You ask, slipping your hands into the pocket of your apron. When you look at Sebastian from the doorway, he doesn’t look like a twenty three year old man. He looks like the Sebastian you used to know–the hotheaded eighteen year old who only ever got shy around you.

“Would you…could we be friends after this?” He asked lowly. “I know you said we haven’t seen each other in five years, and I know there’s some blame there on my end. But we’ve been through so much together, and you’ve saved my life.” he rambles.

You once told yourself that if Sebastian Sallow ever came crawling back, you’d slam the door shut in his face. The first year of your separation had been excruciating; the second had been dreadful. Once you’d gotten on to your third year without him in your life, the pain had become bearable. And once you’d gotten on to four years without him, you realized you didn’t think of him anymore. In fact, you hadn’t thought of him at all until you saw him standing a few paces away from your tea table.

“Of course, darling.” You assure him. “Only if you promise me that you’ll actually sleep.”

Sebastian’s face lights up in a way you distinctly remember–the first time you’d seen it was when you arrived in Feldcroft to meet Anne when you were both fifteen. He adjusts himself to the pillows as you wave your wand to dim the lights.

You shut the door behind you, letting out a sigh when you’re out of sight. You feel guilty calling Sebastian darling again–you’ve never even blessed your own fiance with his own nickname. And despite your refusal of the situation, you can’t help the shiver you feel at the base of your spine when you hear Sebastian calling you pet again.

Perhaps being friends is not a good idea.

Night Five

Sebastian is asleep when your shift starts, and you nearly skip over his room. But against your better judgment, you push into the door, knocking lightly.

The brunette man is slumped over, snoring lightly as if he were waiting for you. At the sound of the door, he jolts, rubbing his eyes.

“Why can’t you be on the day shift?” he complains sleepily.

You chuckle. “I can leave you, let you get some rest.”

“No,” Sebastian clears his throat. “I’d like you to stay.” He shrugs off his shirt, proudly displaying his scars. “They still look like hell, but at least they aren’t purple anymore.”

You stride over, running your hands over them. Your ancient magic was able to overpower the bleeding curse, but Sebastian will forever have a dip in his chest and bubbled over scars. They’re at least turning pink, a much better place than they were a few days ago.

“They look great,” you pat his shoulder. “And once we get your memories back in order, we can get you home.”

Sebastian gives you a strange look. “Ominis came again during the day…filling in the blanks again.”

“And?” You ask softly, sitting in the chair next to him.

“Why did we break up?” Sebastian asks firmly. “Can you tell me? And don’t give me the whole spiel about us growing apart. I want the details.”

You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands. “We were eighteen, Sebastian. I was careless, you were lonely, we were both focused on our careers and not on each other.” Truthfully, you had spent years thinking of the many ways you’d address this conversation, how you’d confront him if you ever saw him again. Now five years later and after having almost witnessed Sebastian’s death, the downfall of your first love is easily compounded into one simple sentence.

“You started working the night shift,” Sebastian says.

“I started working the night shift,” you echo. “I wanted to rise up quickly in the ranks, so I volunteered. I was working so many hours, and you were gone during the day at your job, so we barely saw each other.”

“I asked you to take time off.” Sebastian adds.

“And I said no.” you admit. “I told you that you were being insecure. That my job was more important, because I was saving lives.” It’s one of the few shames you’ve compartmentalized over the past few years–that you’d ever downplayed the importance of his career compared to yours.

“I went out that night.” Sebastian whispers, looking at his hands. “And I didn’t come home until the morning.”

“It was my only night off of the week, and you came home at four in the morning, stinking of firewhiskey and perfume.” Your eyes shut, replaying the awful scene in your head.

“Did I?” he croaked. “Did I cheat on you, really?”

“No,” You shake your head, and he lets out a relieved sigh. “You said you could have. You said you wanted to.” You add, rubbing the temples of your forehead. “That you were tired of living in half of a relationship, and that you’d wanted to kiss that girl.”

“You threw the book at me,” Sebastian says weakly. “And I smashed your mug.”

“I told you to go to her if you really wanted.” You admit. “And you left.”

“I stayed at Ominis’s that night.” he whispered. “I didn’t go to her.”

“I didn’t know that. So I packed my things and left.”

The silence hangs between the two of you, and all of the feelings you had at eighteen come flooding back. After the fight, you apparated to Natty’s place, while Anne and Poppy had cleaned out your bits in the apartment. What was meant to be a one night stay turned into a week, and then more. After a month without word from Sebastian, you committed to the night shift, forsaking your friendships and social life for work. Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and before you knew it, you were promoted. Sebastian Sallow was a blip in your timeline, a faded memory of teenage love. He’d been just a memory until you saw him in Diagon Alley. Your heart hadn’t felt anything but anger towards him until you saw his shiny black dress shoes.

“Did we throw it all away?” Sebastian asks sorrowfully.

“We became the people we needed to be.” You remind him. “Look at you, an auror. A damn good one. The kind that jumps in front of their partner to save them from a curse.” you assure him.

“And you’re a healer,” Sebastian inhales. “A bloody amazing one, that saved my life and five others. I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian’s lower lip wobbles, and you know your heart is in danger.

“You seem to remember quite a bit,” You point out. “More than you let on.”

“I was talking to Clopton about you. We thought the ambush was over, we were trying to get to a floo point so we could get Larson’s leg checked out.” Sebastian says. “I told him how beautiful you looked, and that you looked happy.” his voice cracks.

“Sebastian.” It’s not a warning, just a statement. A week ago you would’ve never said his name aloud, let alone thought of it. But it feels right rolling off your tongue.

“Everett said something about you being engaged. It’s…it’s fuzzy from there on, but I remember the fight. And I jumped in front of him, but not just to save him.” Sebastian says, his fingers drumming on his stomach.

“Why?” You almost don’t want to hear the rest. It might upend your life entirely.

“I jumped in front of him because I knew I’d be okay. That you would probably be at St. Mungo’s when I got there.” Sebastian said weakly. “And I’d get a chance to see you again.”

“Sebastian, we’re different people now.” You remind him.

“We’re better now.” Sebastian says, giving you pleading eyes. “I was an idiot when I was eighteen; I thought I was being a man, but I wasn’t. And I’m not going to pretend that I’ve been happy the past five years–there hasn’t been another woman who’s made me feel the way you do.” he confesses.

“It’s been too long,” you try to say, but you know it's no use trying to argue with him. From your first fight in the Undercroft at fifteen to the fight that broke you two up, Sebastian has never backed down.

Before you even realize it, Sebastian has reached his hand out, taking yours. He’s rubbing your left ring finger–the one missing your large, ostentatious engagement ring.

“Don’t marry him,” Sebastian croaks. “Please, don’t marry him.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I understand you now.” Sebastian says. “I understand you in a way I didn’t when I was younger. And that’s good–it’s good for us now. It wasn’t the right time then, but we could try again now.” he pleads.

“Four days ago when you saw me in Diagon Alley, you could barely look at me.” You remind him. “I should have you committed to the memory ward at this point.”

“Four days ago when I saw you, I was sick to my stomach with how happy you looked.” Sebastian admits. “I saw you from a distance, smiling at Larson and Poppy. I couldn’t look you in the eye after seeing you smile.”

You want to tell Sebastian that your fiance is a good man. That he loves you, cherishes you, and doesn’t fight with you. But you can’t help being nostalgic as you hold the hand of your first love, who is currently begging you to end your relationship to risk it all again with him. Whatever strength you’ve mustered together in the last five years is about to break as his big brown eyes implore you to stay.

“Your memory seems back to normal,” you change the subject, standing up quickly. You tug your hand out from his, smoothing your clammy palms against your apron. “I’ll put you down for discharge in the morning.”

“Don’t,” Sebastian warns. “Don’t run away.”

“You ran away.” You remind him.

“And I regret it, every day.” Sebastian says mournfully. “You were my first love. You were going to be my only love, and I fucked it up.”

“We both made mistakes, Sebastian.” You say, staring down at your feet. “You need to get some rest. I’ll leave you be.”

He’s arguing as you step through the door, wringing your hands together. The thoughts running through your head aren’t right–no, they’re crazy. Except your feet keep walking towards the ward matron’s desk, gripping the stone top.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks, frowning.

“I need to go home,” you confess, scribbling what little notes you have onto Sebastian’s chart. “There’s something I have to do.”

Thirty minutes later (your on call replacement is displeased to have been woken up late at night) you’re back in your flat. Your mind is buzzing as you pace in the bedroom, thinking about the idea gnawing at your brain.

It would be insane.

You haven’t talked in five years.

He’s emotional after having been saved from the brink of death.

He broke up with his girlfriend on the spot, because she wasn’t you.

Sebastian is most well known for his unwavering support and adoration. At least he was when you were younger. Sebastian had always been encouraging, cheering you on through crossed wands, battles in the highlands, and even when you got your first job offer from St. Mungo’s. He’d been crazy about you–obsessed with you, even. The two of you had been the couple of your year when you graduated.

Sebastian had only ever faltered once, and it ended your relationship.

Don’t marry him.

The words replay in your mind. It makes you realize your stomach has flipped more in the last four nights than it has in years. That your even tempered fiance, a kind but boring man, has not once made you feel what you’ve felt in the past week being back in Sebastian’s presence.

It is insane, you think. But you’d rather take feeling than nothing at all.

Digging through your dresser, you pull out the box holding your engagement ring.

Night Six

It has been a long, long day.

What time you would have spent sleeping is spent assuring your now ex-fiance that nothing untoward has happened. That you appreciate his kindness and companionship over the past year, but that you cannot lie to yourself.

You cannot marry him because you don’t love him as you should.

You prepare for the night shift with a spring in your step, because when you get there, you’re heading straight to Sebastian’s room. You’re going to tell him what you’ve done, and hope that he’s still feeling just as crazy as you. You pull your hair into its usual bun, wishing you could wear something a little nicer to what will be your reunion. Sebastian used to love when you wore green; perhaps you’ll buy a green dress the next day you’re off.

When you get to the ward, it’s quieter than usual. Holding your wand between your teeth again, affixing the white apron, your heart beats out of your chest as you approach room 213.

This is it. This is the start of the rest of your life.

You push through the doors of 213, but your breath stutters when you see the empty bed. It’s stripped of any linens, and all of the flowers and candy boxes Sebastian’s colleagues sent are gone.

“Where is the patient in 213?” you whip around, grabbing the closest orderly.

They give you a curious look. “Discharged this morning–you put it in their paperwork.”

You swallow, and it feels like shards of broken glass are tumbling down your throat. “I…I did.”

“Isn’t today your day off, too?” They tilt their head at you. “Honestly, it feels like your head hasn’t been screwed on at all this week. Might want to take some focus potions, ma’am.”

“Uh, right.” You admit, turning red. You were so excited at the prospect of seeing Sebastian again, you completely forgot that Fridays were your nights off from the ward. You were rather busy after all, imploding your life. “”Does it say who picked him up?”

They shrug, flipping through the charts again. “He was taken to his home in Diagon Alley by his sister and brother-in-law.”

You curse under your breath as you try to plot a plan. There’s no way Ominis still lives in the small flat he had when you last saw him, and you have no idea where Sebastian lives. The ward doesn’t have an address either, so you’re shit out of luck.

Unless…unless you were to find one of his loyal partners.

Apparition is frowned upon inside of St. Mungo’s, but you’ll take a scolding from the matron ward on Saturday. You immediately apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, where most of the ministry’s aurors spend their evenings. You know this because you’ve been avoiding the biggest pub in Diagon Alley for five years, hoping not to run into your ex.

The crowd stares at you in your St. Mungo’s uniform; you push through throngs of ministry employees, all wearing fine suits and dresses from their day jobs. Your eyes scan the room, heart losing hope by the second, until you spot Everett and Andrew sitting with a gaggle of your classmates from Hogwarts, Natsai Onai included. Andrew elbows Everett at the sight of you, and Clopton beams as if he’s won a bet.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly, approaching the group.

“Figured you might turn up.” Larson teased. “Gaunt, Clopton, and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“What’s going on?” Natty asks, clearly confused. She says your name, tilting her head.

“I need his address,” You gasp. “He wasn’t at the ward when I got there–”

“Anne and Ominis picked him up this morning.” Everett says, pulling out his wand and a paper napkin. He aimed his wand at the scrap, delicately burning an address into the paper. “He doesn’t live far from here. Perhaps you’ll keep him from spending too much time at the pub now.”

“Who doesn’t live far?” Natty asks again, elbowing Andrew.

“Sallow, of course.” Larson winks. “You two had enough time to talk it through, yeah?”

“What the bloody hell–they haven’t spoken in five years,” Natty claims with wide eyes. She gives you a look, and you can’t do anything but shrug.

“Near death experiences will change you,” Everett says smugly, taking a sip of his tankard. “Well go on then, what are you still doing here?”

You mouth an apology to Natty; you’ll have to explain it to her someday soon. For now, you’re pushing through the crowd, trying to get out the door. Looking down at the napkin, Everett Clopton is right; Sebastian lives maybe a stone's throw away from the pub. Your feet are pounding on the cobblestone of Diagon Alley, looking like a blue wisp to any passersby.

Before you know it, you’re turning onto his street, with only the lamps in front of each door illuminating the numbers. You stop, gasping for air, trying to find the right one. Of course he’s at the end of the row, a dark green door with a gold knocker. It’s late now, the sky pitch black, as you start pounding.

It takes only thirty seconds for the door to swing open; Anne is standing behind it, looking shocked.

“You’re here,” she breathes.

“I told you she would,” you hear Ominis yell from the inside. “Clopton owes me ten galleons.”

“Can I come in?” you ask.

Anne bites back a smile. “Of course you can.”

You walk into Sebastian’s home; despite having never seen it, it positively reeks of him. There are touches of him all over the house–from the books stacked in the hallways, to the shoes messily kicked in the parlor room. He has trinkets from his travels on the mantle, and you can see he still leaves his teacups all over the house (something you once fought over–it seems endearing now).

Ominis is in the sitting room, lounging on a chaise. “Took you long enough.” he says teasingly. “I was rather surprised you abandoned him last night. He was absolutely bereft when we picked him up in the morning.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you admit sheepishly, digging your toe into the carpet. “I…I just had something I had to do first.”

“A break up and a make up in one day, you’re a busy woman as always.”

“Shut up.”

Ominis gives you a toothy grin; something he saves only for those he loves. “I missed you.” he stood, pulling you into a tight hug. “I can only hope Sebastian doesn’t bungle it all up and we lose you all over again.”

You press your nose into Ominis’s shoulder; it seems silly you ever thought you could live without this group of people in your life.

“I thought you were mad at him,” you say, pulling back to look up at the blond.

“I was mad that he was being stubborn,” Ominis says softly. “That he wasn’t being himself, drinking every day and dating girls who weren’t right for him. I told him he had to pluck up the courage to speak to you again, or get over it and make peace with his life. He’s been rather stuck, as you can imagine.”

You have been too, you think.

“Is he upstairs?” You ask, turning to the slim staircase. Anne is standing next to the railing, giving a signature Sallow smirk.

“He might be asleep,” Ominis warned. “But he is. First room to the left.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks before walking up the stairs. The floor creaks underneath you as you push in the door; Sebastian is laying in his bed, sleeping fitfully. You nearly knock a stack of books over as you kneel next to his bed; you also recognize the book on his side table, the spine dented from when you threw it at his face five years ago. It reminds you of the shattered mug you keep on your desk. Perhaps you two have been subconsciously keeping pieces of each other around.

Sebastian stirs as you brush his brunette hair out of his face. He opens one eye, then the other, blinking furiously as he tries to sit up.

“You’re here,” he groans, a hand flying to his torso. “Is this a good visit, or just a hospital house call? Because my scars are killing me now that I’m home.”

You give a watery chuckle. “It can be both, if you like.” You pull the blanket aside, examining his puckered skin. The scars will stay for good, but that’s fine. You did always like it when Sebastian was roughed up anyways.

“You’re here.” Sebastian repeats, only this time it's softer.

“I had to go to the Leaky Cauldron to get your address from Clopton.” you admit, blue waves emitting from your fingertips as you try to take away some of the physical pain. “But yes, I’m here.”

“By the sound of our last conversation, I thought you were done. That we were just going to have to live with our mistakes.” Sebastian breathes.

“I wanted to say more, but there was something I had to do first.” you sit on the bed; Sebastian adjusts to give you more room, taking your hands in his. “I had to give back the engagement ring.”

“You did?” Sebastian asks hopefully.

“Seeing you…being around you for the first time in five years…” You’re trying to compound all of your feelings in a simple sentence, but it doesn’t feel like enough. “It made me realize I just didn’t love him.” You confess. “I shouldn’t feel the way I’ve felt seeing you.”

“Pet,” he murmurs, putting a hand to your cheek. “You’ve saved my life. I can’t ask anything more from you.”

“Then can I?” You ask, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes as you place your hand over his. Sebastian’s hand is warm and familiar, fitting perfectly against you.

“Ask me anything,” Sebastian echoes.

“Let’s try again.” you whisper.

Sebastian scoots over, making space on the bed for you. You don’t care if anyone else has slept in it over the five years you’ve been apart; something about the way Sebastian melts against your touch tells you he’s only ever belonged to you in the first place.

“Let’s try again.” Sebastian whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your lips. It feels positively electric, like it’s awoken something that’s been dormant inside you for five long, sleepy years. You take good care not to press too much of your weight onto a still recovering patient, but Sebastian does everything in his power to draw you closer. His hands start pulling pins out of your hair, the tight bun coming unraveled as he weaves his fingers through your tresses.

“You’re still healing,” you remind him as he starts working on the buttons of your dress. “And your sister is downstairs.”

“I don’t care,” Sebastian murmurs into your skin, tugging your collar down to press a kiss at the base of your neck. “We’ve waited long enough, haven’t we?”

You have, you think. So you let Sebastian ravish you with kisses, blushing when you hear Ominis loudly call up the stairs that he and Anne are leaving. You only leave the bed to unlace your dress, Sebastian eagerly watching as you strip the fabric from your body. He groans in a good way when you press kisses to his chest, fingers dancing across the scars on his chest. Not all scars would disappear, and there would always be reminders of the past. But it was good to acknowledge them, to know that they were there, and that they were healed.

The two of you stay awake the entire night reacquainting yourselves with each other’s body; the sun is streaming through Sebastian’s curtains when you realize you’ve been awake since Thursday night, running off adrenaline. Your eyes begin to droop as Sebastian presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Go to sleep, pet.” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

You’ll have to call in again, you think. You need an entire day of sleep after this week. And the next time you get to the ward, you’ll turn in your official notice, asking to move to the day shift.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x anne sallow #Auror Sebastian #Auror Sebastian Sallow #hogwarts legacy fan fiction #writing-intheundercroft #this one got a little out of hand #should I write a smutty part two?????

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burstfoot · 1 year ago

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Figured I'd make a post outlining Arknights' auxiliary material for those who want to see more of the universe and aren't aware of all that's out there! ANIMATION Arknights Prelude To Dawn (S1) and Perish in Frost (S2, currently airing): [Crunchyroll]

A straight up adapation of the main story, up through Chapter 0 to Chapter 6! It's much more fast-paced than the story, so I wouldn't use it to replace actually reading it, but it's very cool to see some of these scenes in full animation. Lee's Detective Agency: (Youtube)

A mini-series animated in a chibi-style with a comedic tone focused on the adventures of the Kuroblood-illustrated Lee's Detective Agency! Distributed by Crunchyroll globally, but entirely free to watch.

Closure's Secret Files: (Youtube)

A cut-out styled series of shorts hosted by Closure which outlines a lot of the game's basic mechanics!

Holy Knight Light: [Youtube]

A short Youtube OVA focusing around Penguin Logistics delivering a package, celebrating Arknights' first anniversary!

[Upcoming]: Kay's Daily Doodles: (Twitter Annoucement)

Another free youtube mini-series that starts airing December 1st, focused around Ceobe! Here's some additional animations! Each event usually also has a 15 second 2D animated preview of the event, but there's so many of those that I can't list them all. Official Anniversary Event 3D Animations: Lone Trail Where Vernal Winds Will Never Blow Il Siracusano Ideal City Stultifera Navis Invitation To Wine Near Light Dossoles Holiday Under Tides Bonus 3D Animated Shorts: Legend of Chongyue Arknights Special - IL Siracusano Lo Scontro Youtube Shorts: Ch'en and Lin's Watermelon Splitting Game Part 1 Ch'en and Lin's Watermelon Splitting Game Part 2 Amiya's Siracusan Food Guide Part 1 Amiya's Siracusano Food Guide Part 2

Comics, Manga, Manhua

Officially Translated Rhodes Island's Records of Originium: Rhine Lab: (Offical Website)

A canon manhua centered around the circumstances that lead to Silence falling out with Saria and joining Rhodes Island with Ifrit, as well as Ifrit's attempt to save a dying infected stowaway on the landship. Essential reading for understanding the Rhine Lab storyline and characters - read it right after Mansfield! One of the characters, Darya, is mentioned in both Ifrit's module and briefly in Lone Trail.

Rhodes Island's Records of Originium: Blacksteel: (Official Source)

A short story focusing on the lives of the Blacksteel operators aboard the landship. While it often gets overshadowed by the Rhine Lab manga which is bigger in scope, this is a great read especially if you're interested in Franka or Liskarm.

Rhodes Kitchen -TIDBITS-: (Official Source)

An anthology story related to the cuisine that's important to a variety of operators. While it might seem unassuming, the art is gorgeous and it's really well-written. I particularly recommend the Goldenglow (Chapter 4) and Rosa (Chapter 5) chapters.

Unofficially Translated

Arknights Comic Anthology: (Mangadex)

As the title says, a series of non-canon anthology stories regarding the cast of Rhodes' Island! Note that the link provided only has complete translations up to Volume 4 (and Vol. 4 is missing Ch. 7), and most of the chapters avaliable after that point were MTL'd, so I can't vouch for their accuracy. Chapters I'd recommend are: Volume 1: Chapter 12 (focused on Myrrh trying to improve her medicine), Chapter 14 (focused on Saria and Silence trying to put apart their differences to take Ifrit on vacation, afaik the only place where they are directly referred to as her "moms") Volume 2: Chapter 1 (Manticore tries to make friends), Chapter 3 (The LGD gets drunk), Chapter 11 (Texlapp and Mosexu yuribait), Ch. 13 (Magallan tries to find a pet), Chapter 16 (Ethan spies on the interior lives of Rhodes operators) Volume 3: Chapter 6 (Snowsant, Ifrit, Nian and Shaw are forced to make friends), Chapter 7 (Gummy flashes back to Chernobog), Chapter 10 (FEater and Shaw yuribait), Chapter 13 (Blackout on the landship, as well as Ayerscarpe and Leonhardt yaoibait)

Volume 4: Chapter 4 (Thorns tries to make friends with Weedy [this one is my favourite]), Chapter 6 (Tomimi tail spankings), Chapter 9 (Elysium helps Frostleaf get along with Dur-Nar) Volume 6: Ch. 1 (Whisperain opens up to others) [this one isn't MTL'd afaik]

123 Rhodes Island: (Mangadex)

A series of non-canon gag 4komas! Many of the games' offical stickers are done in this series' art style.

Arknights: Operators!: (Mangadex)

A compilation of 4komas posted on the official ArknightsJP twitter account! Thank you to @sleepywoodscans for their work on translating these, please show them some love!!

[Edit: For clarities sake, the only stuff here that has used MTL is later chapters of the Comic Anthology! Sleepywoodscans’ work on Operators! is all done by hand (they’re a native Japanese speaker). Again, I really appreciate their work!]

Arknights: A1 Operations Preparation Detachment: (Mangadex)

Part of the Terra Historicus website and not yet officially translated, focusing on Fang, Kroos and Beagle, and a catastrophe striking the Columbian city of Tkaronto. Unfortunately, only translated up to Chapter 6, but one of the characters (Elba) has a brief cameo in Light Sparks in Darkness! Edit: Chapter 7 has been translated by @pooce-art, and they're working on Chapter 8!

Angelina: Sketches of THIS Messenger's Journey: (Mangadex)

Also published as part of the Terra Historicus website and not yet officially translated, focuses on the adventures of Angelina travelling across Terra as a Messenger! Recent chapters relate to the upcoming Sami event & IS4, as well as the upcoming So Long, Adele.

Prelude Suite: Unrestrained Play: (Wiki)

Unfortunately, I can't find a full translation for this one - an epilogue to Hortus De Esscapismo focusing on Arturia's background. Of course, major spoilers for Hortus apply - if you can find a full translation yourself.

As well, an upcoming manhua focused on the Break the Ice cast was annouced during the 4.5 Anniversary stream. As far as I'm aware, chapters have not begun releasing yet!

Other:

Arknights Ambience Synesthesia: (Youtube)

youtube

A series of concerts (3 so far), focusing around Arknights' music! A live performance has been done every year, with skins released in-game for the concert's theme & 3D animations produced featuring the skin's cast in 2022 and 2023.

Monster Siren Records: (Spotify) (Official Website)

Arknights' official (and-in-universe) record label publishing game OSTs, themes for almost every 6 star operator that releases, and occasional bonus songs.

Arknights: Endfield: (Twitter)

An upcoming 3D action gacha game from Hypergryph, set in the far future of Arknights' universe on another planet. Currently in closed beta testing for their CN servers!

Arknights: Nomad City: The Founders: (Youtube)

A to-be-released CN Arknights board game! Unclear of if it will ever be translated or released globally, unfortunately...

Terra: A Journey: (Wiki)

An upcoming CN lore book focused on the intricate details of Terra's worldbuilding. As well, unclear if it will be translated or released globally.

UNOFFICIAL:

Some fandom-developed tools that might be of use to you are the Arknights Terra Wiki - which just transferred from FANDOM to wiki.gg, and has very detailed information on both game mechanics and world-lore.

As well, the Arknights Story Reader can help you catch up on stuff you don't want to or can't read in game!

Finally, Aceship's Toolbox provides access to a variety of tools, including a levelling calculator, a calculator to ensure the best recruitments, and all the CGs, backgrounds and character sprites that are avaliable in-game.

Conclusion:

Thank you for reading! I hope this provided some new information to you or at least provides an easy reference resource in the future. There's a lot to check out even outside of the game, and I hope you find some stuff you enjoy!

#arknights #ohhhh my god this took way longer to write than expected #dont want to reblog beg but they would be greatly appreciated!#take care with the mangadex & non-offical links #I can't guarantee their safety #i could've sworn who is real had a 3d trailer but it mightve been an ambience synthesia vid

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raphael-angele · 7 months ago

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If Bianca Met This Character Part 5: Clarisse La Rue

Feat. Baby Nico and Baby Frank

Bianca, meeting up with Clarisse cuz they need a battle plan for the next CoF: La Rue!

Clarisse: About time, di Ange-*notices that she's holding Nico*...you brought your brother?

Bianca: I can't just leave him.

Nico: Hi, Clari!

Clarisse: Hi, pumpkin. *to Bianca* di Angelo, you're here on business.

Bianca: I know but no one's-

Frank: Clarisse

Clarisse: Yes, Frank?

Frank: Can you play with me?

Clarisse: Aw, buddy, I'm sorry. I have to work right now.

Frank: Aww :(

Clarisse: Hey, how about you play with him? *points to Nico*

Frank: Who are they?

Bianca, putting Nico down: Hello. I'm Bianca, this is my brother, Nico.

Frank: Hi

Nico: Hello

Bianca: Frank, how old are you?

Frank: 12

Clarisse: Can you do something for me, Frank?

Frank: Hm?

Clarisse: Bianca and I have to work together to win the game tomorrow. Can you look after Nico for her? You two can play together while we work.

Frank: Okay.

Bianca: Nico, why don't you go play with him.

Nico: *shakes his head* No, don't wanna. Wanna stay with Bia.

Bianca: Nico, don't be rude. C'mon he wants to play with you.

Nico: No, Bia, please don't make me.

Frank, seeing the Mythomagic cards in Nico's pocket: *gaaaassssp* YOU PLAY MYTHOMAGIC TOO?!

Nico:

Nico: *pulling out his cards* Yeah. It's my favorite game

Frank, running over to his things to get his cards and shows them to Nico: ME TOO!!!

Nico: *gaaaasssp* YOU HAVE THE MANTICORE?!?!

Frank: UH HUH! I GOT LUCKY AND GOT IT ON MY BIRTHDAY!

Nico: COOL! *shows Frank his cards* LOOK!

Frank: NO WAY! YOU HAVE THE LIMITED EDITION LERNAEAN HYDRA?!?!

Nico: MHM!

Clarisse:

Bianca: ...I'm starting to think I should've just dropped him off with Conner and Travis.

Clarisse: So...battle plan?

Bianca: Let's go.

Clarisse, walking off: I'm seeing a lot of play dates in our future.

#pjo #i know frank didnt appear until hoo but STILL #i also know hes a roman and again but still #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #hoo #nico di angelo #bianca di angelo #clarisse la rue #frank zhang #mythomagic #cute #baby nico #baby frank #pjo incorrect quotes #incorrect percy jackson quotes #percy jackson incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes

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howi99 · 1 month ago

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A story of a Knight and a Yokai (part 1?)

(Btw, if you are a touhou fan, go read Osana Reimu. And if you are not, still go read it. It's the entire reason why i'm writing this)

RK: *waking up on a road* ... Wha... I'm alive? ... Guess the poison wasn't strong enough to kill me. *Get up, still feeling weak* Damn, what DID she put in that soup? It's like being inside a bullhead... *Looks around, not seeing Juniper... Or anything remotely recognizable* Is that... A temple? Where am i?

Nothing but the wind answered him

RK: Tsk, that's just great. No, really that's just perfect. I so wanted something new in the pile of crap that is my current life. Now i need to find Juniper and go save those kids before the cat can... *As he spoke, Jaune felt like something wasn't right* Uh... *Looking at the sky, something was missing* wait, where's the tree?!

*crack*

RK: *turning to where the sound came from, his broken sword now unsheathed* Ok, seems i'm back in the real world. So Grimm's are back in play. *Small smile* Can't be harder than a manticore or a dragon.

A woman comes out from the forest

RK: ... Or i could also just be paranoid. *Sigh, re-sheathing his sword* Who comes there? And can i also get a direction to the nearest town or city?

The woman looks at him, perplexed

RK: ...! Oh uh yeah, the armor. Don't worry, i am not a bandit, i'm just lo-

Woman: Aren't you afraid of me?

RK: ... Why, you don't really radiate bloodlust or anything, so i don't really get why i should be afraid.

Woman: *looking at him even more perplexed* You... Do you know who i am?

RK: No idea.

Woman: Aren't you from the village?

RK: *look at himself then at her* I look like i just came out of a fantasy book, why would i come from anywhere near here?

Woman: But it doesn't make sense! How did you survive the Yokai?

RK: The what now?

Woman: *roll her eyes* Vampire, ghost and all that.

RK: ... Sorry to ask a weird question, but... Are we on remnant?

Woman: What?

RK: ... And here i hoped i was finally out of hell. *Sigh* Well, can i get the direction of the tree? I need to go kill a curious cat.

Woman: ... What tree? And cat? You mean Chen?

RK: Who the hell is Chen? No i mean the literal curious cat. You know, a trickster psychopath but in a literal cat body?

Woman: I mean... I never heard of him. As for the tree, i mean there's the forest of magic, but it's not like there's one specific magic tree.

RK: Isn't this the ever after?

Woman: ... No? This is Gensokyo.

RK: ... Tell me, is the moon shattered?

Woman: *sigh* Why would it be?

RK: *to himself* So either i'm before the gods left or... *Look at the woman* Last question, are the brother gods still living among men?

Woman: ... Who?

RK: *crestfallen, thinking to himself* I can't believe it... First i have to kill a friend so the world doesn't end. Secondly, i fell through the world and ended up in fantasy land so i could fuck up again by getting sent back in time. Thirdly, i waited centuries to get back to my timeline but discovered i was the hero from a book, try to follow the story only to get poisoned and now this? Is this a joke? Can life stop being a bitch for once?

Woman: *noticing the knight looking unwell* uh... You ok?

RK: *let himself fall face down to the ground, his aura protecting him by reflex* I think i will lay down and let myself die.

Woman: ... *Sigh, then mumble to herself* How low the most feared yokai has fallen. Can't believe him doing this... *Approach Jaune* Oi, get up.

RK: *face in dirt* Lef meh di.

Woman: *sigh again, then knell down to pick Jaune up like a sac of potato* You can't just die in the middle of the road. What would the people coming to the temple would say?

RK: *says nothing*

Woman: Tsk... Name's Rumia, if you were wondering. *Waiting for an answer* ... You are supposed to tell me yours, you know?

RK: ... I don't remember my name.

Rumia: Ah! What a joke! You look no older than 30, no way you forgot-

RK: *sigh* I'm centuries old, my aura kept me young by repairing any damage made to my body.

Rumia: *interested* What's that?

RK: What's what?

Rumia: Aura.

RK: Ah... Of course, new world new rules... Aura is the manifestation of the soul. It can protect, heal and make attacks more powerful.

Rumia: *nods* Seems useful.

RK: Yeah, there's also something called a semblance, which is derived from aura. It's an ability which is unique to every aura user with some exceptions.

Rumia: Hm, we have something similar here. But why would humans need this?

RK: ... *Sigh* Fine, i'll explain to you everything about my world, can you put me down?

Rumia: Will you lay down and wait for death again?

RK: I'll... find a better place.

Rumia: Oh, but can you wait before explaining everything? I know someone who will really want to listen to this!

RK: ... Sure.

Rumia: *putting him down* By the way, if you forgot your name, what should we call you?

RK: *shrug* I don't really care anymore. But the book i'm from called me the Rusted knight.

Rumia: *looking at his armor* Doesn't look that rusted to me.

RK: *shake his head* Well, they meant my sword... I assume.

Rumia: The broken piece of junk? Why didn't you throw it away?

RK: *thinking back at what he did* Long story and a part of my life i will never forget.

Rumia: Yesh, not a fan of talking about your past i see.

RK: Oh i don't mind talking about all my adventures, just... Not what came before.

Both of them start walking

Rumia: ... I think i should tell you that i'm technically a dangerous Yokai who eats humans.

RK: ... I see.

Rumia: You don't see surprised or upset.

RK: Well, you didn't try to eat me and i can see you are trying to make me less... Hateful toward myself? So i'm guessing the technically mean either you eat bad people, which i don't care for or you stopped... Which i'm fine with.

Rumia: *placing her arms behind her head* Second one. Got beaten half-dead by the drunkard who runs the place *sigh*

RK: *nods* Sounds rough. So she got you on a leash or-

???: Rumia!

RK: *look at the top of the stairs, seeing a woman wearing... A box for a mask?* ... I assume she's the drunkard?

Rumia: *smile* Yep, she's the one.

Crazy Woman?: *sigh, shaking her head* And here i was wondering where you were. Reimu was panicking when you bolted away. *Now noticing Jaune* Oh? You brought company? I never saw you in the village.

RK: I'm not from around here.

Crazy Woman?: Yeah, like half the village.

RK: Half the village comes from a world where animals talk, fruit make you travel in time and a giant tree keep bringing people back from the dead with a better body but no memory?

Crazy Woman?: ... Uh... N-no?

RK: *shrug* Eh, was worth a shot.

Crazy Woman?: *look at Rumia* Is... Is he... You know....

RK: I'm not mad... *Seems to think a bit* Nevermind, i meant i'm not that crazy. Living with no human interaction for centuries did drive me a bit crazy. Just enough to accept a lot of weird things as normal. Like your head accessory... Is that a donation box?

Crazy Woman?: Speaking of! *Walk down the stairs* You got money for the temple?

RK: *look inside his pockets* I got a copper piece, two silver drakki, a couple of gold coins and... Well, now i know where she found the poison. *Take the silvers and give them to the miko*

Crazy Woman?: *take them quickly* Oh oh! Nevermind the first impressions, i think i already like you, now!

Rumia: *getting impatient* Can we get going?

Crazy Woman?: Oh yeah, of course! *Goes back the stairs, humming a happy song*

RK: She seems happy.

Rumia: Well, you just gave away the equivalent of what she gets in a month.

RK: ... *Shrug then start walking up the stairs* Fair enough, i'd be happy too... I think? I completely forgot the value of money since silver was the least valuable in the ever after.

Rumia: *following him* Then what's the most valuable?

RK: Mithril, but i didn't have any on me. At least in money form.

Rumia: You got some?

RK: *point at his armor* It's mostly made of it. It takes years to rust and even then it only takes a bit to get rid of it. It's a good insulator, so it keeps me warm when it's cold and fresh when it's scorching hot. It's not really stronger than steel, but with my aura, i don't need it to be.

Rumia: *nods*

RK: It can also repair itself. Slowly, but it's better than having to wait for a smith to be available, you know?

Rumia: I honestly can't since i don't wear armor.

RK: Speaking of, what is the technology level here? We have scroll or?

Rumia: Scroll?

RK: Phone?

Rumia: In the human world, i think they have those? I'm not sure.

RK: Electricity and heated water?

Rumia: oh yeah, we got those.

RK: *sigh in relief* After all these years, a nice hot bath would be nice...

#jaune arc #touhou rumia #hakurei miko #touhou x RWBY #i am really not expecting a lot of view but i wanted to make something after watching osona reimu #rwby #rwby au

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mischeva · 4 months ago

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Fuck this stupid baka show man I’m gonna do whatever I want

ramblings under cut

Okay so here’s a little summary of the reimaginings of each character

Alastor - A hellborn demon that was tasked by Satan to watch over Dani and basically be like a nanny to her and help her with her endeavors. He doesn't particularly like Dani, but he'll put on a bright smile and be a good sport about things. He owes Satan big time and this is his debt being paid. Whatever that means....

Husk - A greedy, grumpy old manticore that becomes the bartender/chef of the hotel. Has a soul contract with Alastor so works under him for Dani. Actually becomes really good at his job and even begins to enjoy it and spending time with the others. Out of everyone though he seems to spend the most time with Angel Dust. They talk to each other like they know each other. Who knows… maybe they do.

Sir Pentious - Becomes the second tenant of the hotel. He originally tried destroying it because he wanted the land where it was, but he didn’t know that the Princess of Hell was behind the idea (he doesn’t watch tv lol). Once he finds out the hard way he gives up on his devious plans and wishes to join the hotel and try to be redeemed. Dani was more than thrilled to already have a second tenant! His design is loosely based off a yellow cape cobra mixed with a steampunk fashion sense and weaponry theme. He always tried to one up Angel Dust in weapon design and even considered him a rival, but they eventually get along.

Selene - Dani’s beloved bodyguard and girlfriend. She is appointed head of security for the hotel and takes her job very seriously. She’s based off of a lunar moth and is the moon to Dani’s sun. She is extremely devoted to Dani and adores her optimistic ideas… even if sometimes they sound a little too out of reach. Also there’s no real twist that she’s a fallen angel. I mean only Dani knows because she understands how traumatizing it was for her and also it’s nobody’s business. They’re a true power couple and always have each other’s backs.

Dani - Hell’s darling Princess and the apple of her father’s eye, her dream is to help sinner’s be redeemed to Heaven. She does this not only to fix the overpopulation of Hell, but also because she truly believes that people can change for the better if only given the right opportunity and help. She’s extremely optimistic, but she isn’t stupid. She would never force anyone to come to the hotel because she knows people have to want to change to be better. Luckily she has found those who believe in her and want to help her with her goal. The only issue is everyone else in Hell not taking her seriously and thinking her goal is useless and stupid. Boy are they in for a rude awakening.

Ms. Kino - A small one eyed, one horned purple oni that becomes the hotel cleaner and other chef. Much like Husk she too has a soul contract with Alastor. She doesn’t seem to care as much about it as he does though. She’s more than happy to spiffy up a dusty old hotel and make things nice and presentable. It’s her true passion to make things beautiful after all.

Angel Dust - Currently the overlord of the Lust ring and one of the main and best weapons dealer in all of Hell. Why he would ever want to help out and manage a dusty old hotel and help the Princess with her deranged goal is unknown. He does have a reason though. He becomes head of management and basically the host of the hotel. He has the natural charisma and people skills needed to run the place and actually volunteers to become the first tenant as well.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel critical #seriously man fuck this show #dookie ass plot and dookie ass character designs #alastor redesign #husk redesign #sir pentious redesign #vaggie redesign #charlie redesign #niffty redesign #angel dust redesign #changed some of their names too for plot reasons #my art

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year ago

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Part Seven/ Part Eight (YOU ARE HERE)/ Part Nine

Ao3

Monsters aren't real.

The thing that's flying towards him is--a hallucination. A figment of Gareth's imagination.

The same way the feeling of time slowing to a crawl is just a trick of the light playing with his anxiety.

He'd be fine.

(It won't hurt.)

Gareth's limbs froze, locking him in place even as the manticore bore down on him.

Thankfully, Steve did not have that problem.

Gareth's shirt was snatched from the back, choking him as Steve yanked him out of the way.

It was just in time--the Manticore blew past seconds later, too-large body so close Gareth could feel the air move past him.

The stench was unimaginable.

A fuckload of noise exploded in Gareth's ears as time kicked back in. He fell hard, behind Steve as the older teen swung his nail bat with his left hand.

Huh. Gareth thought distantly as wood, nail and flesh connected. Steve's ambidextrous.

He never would have guessed.

Doesn't think anyone would.

(Should Gareth survive this, he will immediately tease Steve about it. Right after profusely thanking him for saving his life and having a meltdown about honest to God monsters existing in Hawkins.)

The fucker barked a noise, and the only comparable thing Gareth could relate it to was a seal--if a seal had played with some of the sound effect pedals the music store.

Maybe got run over by a car right after for good measure.

In one breath, the monsters' weird, elongated hand-paws raked lines through the floor.

In the next, a wing smashed high over Eddie's head. The finger-like claws at the crux of it pierced through Stewart's still-stuck door, balancing itself as it turned.

This brought the manticore's gore-filled hole of a mouth so close to Eddie's head Gareth thought it forfeit, and it was only Steve's interference that kept Eddie the Banished from being Eddie the Buried.

"Come on!" Steve bellowed.

He smacked the bat into the floor, as much a challenge as it was a distraction.

Thick saliva dripped to the floor in clumps as the manticore's head, a bulbous thing composed of five petal-like slices of flesh and too many teeth rattled in response.

A car horn trumpeted again--and if it was a warning it was one coming far too late.

The Manticore dropped its chest to the ground as it took the bait. A dark, black tipped scorpion tail rose over the back of the beast, stinger longer than Gareth's arm and wider than a sword.

Faster than Gareth could track, almost faster than Steve could parry, the tail lashed forward, stinger out like a lance.

(But Steve, wonderful, amazing, athletic Steve, caught and parried it with his bat.

Then and there, Gareth swore to never mock a jock, ever again.)

The bat met armored exoskeleton with a sickening crack!, the force of the hit shaking Steve's arms. His right foot slid back, biceps flexing as the stinger pushed against him, straining hard against nail and wood.

Steve grunted, shoes squeaking as he was forced to give ground, the Manticore overpowering him by the sheer strength of its tail.

The entire encounter had barely lasted a few seconds but without interference?

Steve would be thrown aside--and impaled.

Before Gareth could think about how stupid it was, he was on his feet and rushing to help.

He grabbed the fire poker off the ground and thrust it forward, towards the manticore's not-a-face.

Screamed “Go back to hell you piece of shit!” So loud his voice cracked.

It worked.

The beast flinched, tail rocketing back as it rose back up on all four paws, hissing in outrage.

Steve staggered with how fast the tail had moved, but caught himself, bat wavering in the air, and--

There was no reprieve.

No moment to breathe, because as soon as the stinger's gone there's a grotesque, hand-like paw swiping at them both.

Gareth fell back, only to realize he wasn't the target.

Steve was.

The claws flash in the flickering overhead lights and there wasn’t any time.

He's as good as dead and Gareth can't do anything to save him--

But Eddie can.

Sometime during the last few seconds, the older teen had pulled his knife. Jammed it deep into the back of the manticore's front leg, and twisted after the blade had sunk down to the hilt.

This, and the resulting aborted attack, saved Steve's life.

The thing wailed as the struck leg crumpled, sending the fucker’s head on a collision course with the floor.

Stewart's door jumped in its frame as the wing-claws, dug in deep into the wood, caught the manticore. Two flesh-petals scraped the floor, but the move kept it from falling-- at the cost of putting its full weight on the door.

A door already bowed. Hinges pre-fucked with, thanks to Eddie’s early meddling.

It didn't hold.

Hinges screamed as the wood bent, before gravity asserted itself and shattered it. Massive wood splinters shoot out in an explosion of wood, more than one piece embedding itself into the manticore.

Eddie scrambled backwards half turned to protect his head, saved from two large chunks of wood only by the grace of his thick leather jacket.

Several things happened at once.

The car outside honked a third time.

The manticore lunged.

And Eddie tripped.

One petal of teeth tore into him--a graze that left his leg a bloody mess and ripped a scream from his mouth.

Gareth and Steve both shot instinctively: Steve to attack the side of the manticore's head, Gareth to slam the fire poker into a wing.

(One second turned into three.)

The manticore in turn, leapt backwards, head shaking with the hit of Steve's bat--and Gareth had exactly one half-second to realize all they had done up until this moment was piss it off before the wing he'd struck swept out.

It struck him in the gut and Steve in the chest, sending both of them flying.

Gareth's back met the floor a second time expelling all the air from his lungs, vision going dark at the edges as his head hit the floor.

(Three seconds turned to seven.)

This time he physically couldn't move, too stunned as Eddie screamed Steve's name.

Stewart, Gareth realized, was screaming too.

(Seven seconds became eighteen, until Gareth's chest could take in air again, the loud ringing in his ears easing somewhat.)

He kept blinking, thinking the weird streaks of orange light was his vision blurring, until his brain kicked in and informed him that no, those were flames he was seeing.

Gareth pushed himself up on his elbows to find that reinforcements had arrived.

Flames flew in an arc as another on-fire tennis ball struck the Manticores side. The ball bounced, flames trickling down to the floor as the monster beast shrieked.

A third ball had it slamming itself into the wall as Gareth whipped his head to the opposite end of the hallway.

Tiff and Dustin were spraying a can of something onto a number of tennis balls--the ones Gareth knew Tiff kept in her car for tennis.

Lucas loaded one into his slingshot, drawing the rubber bands back and holding so that Jeff’s lighter could turn it into a proper weapon.

He launched it once flames encompassed it fully, and Gareth watched as it flew true.

Landed to the right of the muscular, lion--like chest, flames catching every piece of skin that was touched.

A part of Gareth expected this to only distract the fucker, the same way the pieces of wood sticking out of it’s sides had barely slowed it down--but fire, apparently was its weakness.

The manticore reacted like it was being burned with acid more so than fire, dropping and rolling and ping-pinging between walls as more and more of its wing was overtaken.

Its screams turned into rapid, wracked yelps, until finally it threw itself so hard into a wall that it fell through it.

For a moment a dark hole remained open.

Gray pieces of ash lazily floated out, giving them all a glimpse into a terrifying, dark blue forest, red lightning slashing the sky above before the hole re-sealed itself.

(It closed the way a wound did. All sides creeping in at a speed far too fast for human skin, but was just slow enough to make the wall appear like a living membrane instead of wood and plaster.)

For a long moment, the only thing Gareth could hear was all his friends' harsh panting.

"Did you kill it?" Stewart asked, head peeking around the corner.

Eddie looked to Steve to answer.

Which he did.

"Rule number two, man.” Steve raked a hand through his hair, trying to comb out the sweat that had collected at his temples after he climbed to his feet. “If you can’t see the body, it’s not dead.”

Stewart crept cautiously into the hall, looking as shell shocked as Gareth felt. "Why the hell isn't that rule one?”

"I don't know, the kids made the rules. You can ask them.”

Gareth’s head pulsed unhappily, but Gareth had other concerns as he made his way to his feet.

“How bad is it?” He asked as he made his way over, Eddie still on the ground.

“I’m alright.” Eddie lied, as if they all couldn’t see the sticky patch of blood on his torn jeans.

"Stop talking, start walking!" Dustin yelled at them.

“Eddie’s injured, give us a minute!” Steve yelled back. “God. Go make yourself useful and get my medkit!”

“I’m fine, it’s fine! ” Eddie yelled out right after, voice waspish in his pain.

It convinced absolutely no one, and in fact, caused several people to come down the hallway towards him.

Lucky for him, Steve made it there first.

Dropping to his knees in front of Eddie, he gently moved a ringed hand away from the wound, giving it a critical once over as Gareth and Stewart hovered.

“It’s not bad.” Eddie tried to argue, wincing as he poked around his leg, Steve continually having to bat his hands away. “If we can wrap it I’ll be able to walk out of here.”

“I won’t know until I see more of it.” Tiff said, Jeff and Grant right on her heels to circle Eddie and Steve. “But he might be right for once--there’s not much blood. You’re gonna lose the pants though.”

“Noooo.” Eddie said, in a poor mimic of one of his D&D voices.

“Not to rush you, but we need to get out of here.” Jeff cast an anxious look over at the wall, and Gareth nodded his agreement.

This wasn’t a safe place right now.

(Had likely never been a safe place, if it was birthing out monsters like the manticore.)

Steve looked up at Eddie, holding his gaze.

“Think you can hobble over to the cars if two of us help?”

He got a sharp nod back.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now hop to it.” Tiff said with a clap. Her voice was dry, tone almost sarcastic, but Gareth heard the unease in it

Not that anyone needed any convincing to get the hell out of dodge.

("I'm going to take up running." Eddie told him later, hands shaking from pain as Gareth drove Van Helsing after FrankenCar, Grant's Ford Escort

They had managed to wrap Eddie’s leg up in a quick bandage with the medkit. Gareth hadn’t truly been able to bring himself to look at the wound, but he’d caught a glimpse.

The fang marks stood out on Eddie’s pale skin, and ran in so many rows it looked like he’d shoved half his leg into a shark's mouth.

Tiffany insisted it was more horrific looking than it was actually horrific, and given Eddie had made at least three “am I gonna lose the leg, Doc?” jokes, Gareth believed her.

Still--it was weird, to drive Eddie’s van.

Weirder still to see Steve's Beemer (unnamed on grounds that Hellfire couldn't decide between the Batmobile and the BeemHolder) lead their little procession--though it had been a fight to get Steve to drive the car instead of ride along with Eddie.

"We both know you’re not seriously considering going running.” Gareth told him, voice shaking. “Which is unfortunate, because I'm going to make you anyway."

His fingers tightened hard on the steering wheel.

“I’m going to make everyone go running.”

It was a testament to how scared both of them were that they ended the conversation there.

No joke, no walking back what they'd said.

Running apparently, was back to being a core survival skill and Gareth very much enjoyed staying alive.)

xXx

Gareth hadn’t asked why the Byers house was the chosen place to regroup.

Had kind of assumed that it had been picked because Will’s mother wasn’t home.

Definitely was not expecting an adult to come flying out of the door with the air of a frazzled border collie, herding kids inside before freezing when she caught sight of Eddie.

Or rather: Eddie being carefully pulled out of Van Helsing by Steve and Jeff, cursing and whining the whole way.

“You big baby, you’re not that hurt.” Jeff huffed as Eddie’s squirming almost forced him to let go, resulting in Eddie gripping at Steve’s sweater like a liferaft.

“You can talk when you’re the one that got bit by a monster, Jeffrey.” Eddie snapped back, hopping on his good leg. “I almost died!”

“Steve said it just barely grazed you--”

“Steve was busy trying to keep it off of me to really notice what was happening! Unlike you. What were you doing, Jeff? Honking the fucking car horn?”

“I wasn’t the one honking--”

They continued to bicker as Miss Byers marched forward.

Gareth expected her to yell--and given the way Eddie’s eyes went wide at the sight of her, possibly even deny them entrance.

Shoo them away or send them home.

It wouldn’t be the first time a member of Hellfire had been beaten, only for the adults around them to act like they were the ones causing trouble.

Instead, she earned Gareth’s respect immediately by moving alongside Steve and asking; “Is anyone else injured?”

Barely waited for the shake of Steve’s head before spinning on her heel and heading back inside, yelling all the way.

“Will, fetch me towels. Jonathan--get the medkit! ”

“No worries, Miss Byers. Stevie here already has one.” Eddie said, before his attempts to charm her fell utterly flat when he accidentally jostled his leg and hissed out a curse.

“Steve’s not as good as mine, hun.” Her eyes swept over his leg, calculating. “Is that bite what I think it is?”

“Related.” Steve answered, starting the lengthy process of getting Eddie inside.

“Shit.” She sighed, and for the first time that night Gareth realized she too, wore the same haunted look Steve did.

Which meant she'd believe them.

A part of him, the part who was still a teenager, a kid in his own right, relaxed that an adult knew.

As with most of Hellfire, Gareth didn’t typically trust adults, but his relationship with his own parents was slightly better than most of the others. It led him to such beliefs like that maybe, just maybe, this would be the end of the monsters.

That he’d never face a thing like that outside of D&D, ever again. That whatever events haunted Steve would be handled by the proper authorities.

(That they’d be okay. Everyone would be okay.)

Sirens sounded in the distance, and even as Gareth walked inside the house he knew it wasn’t true.

Whatever all this was?

It wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“Munson?” A rumpled Jonathan Byers said, blinking like an owl hit with sunlight as the Steve-Eddie-Jeff procession went past.

He got a half-assed roguish grin and a waggle of fingers while Steve rolled his eyes over Eddie’s head.

“What happened!?” Jonathan asked, as Joyce bustled past him, relieving Jonathan of the medkit.

“It’s a long story, but we have a code red at the lab.”

Gareth knew he was frazzled, purely by the fact his hands once again went to mess with his hair, right after helping Eddie down into a chair.

“Which they knew apparently.”

‘They’ was accompanied by Steve jerking his thumb towards the living room--where the kids were talking to themselves in a huddle.

Outside, the sirens grew louder.

Jonathan looked to the living room and back, before heaving a sigh so world weary it was almost impressive. “Of course they did.”

“Demodog?” Miss Byers asked as she laid out various medical supplies on her kitchen table, pausing every so often to stare at Eddie’s leg.

“It was a manticore!” One of the kids yelled.

Gareth wasn't surprised to learn some of the brats were listening in.

There was a pause, as Miss Byers stared quizzically at Steve.

“It's like a demodog but much larger?” He told her, making an awkward shape with his hands that explained absolutely nothing. “With wings? Oh--and a scorpion tail.”

“It was terrifying.” Stewart added in a mutter, all of Hellfire awkwardly camped themselves around Eddie.

Which wasn’t good, given the frown on Miss Byers face as she carefully cut away even more of his jeans and their shitty attempt at band-aiding his wound.

It was the face of someone who was about to cause pain in an attempt to heal, and knew it.

For all that he was their front-man and self-proclaimed shepherd of Hellfire, Eddie's pain tolerance was absolute shit.

The guy could take a punch well enough, and the rings on his hands meant business when he hit back--but when adrenaline wasn't flowing?

Eddie broke down faster than his van did.

This whole thing was a bit of a sore spot. Something Eddie had admitted once under extreme duress had come from his father repeatedly telling him a man needed to be tough, and a Munson man even tougher.

(The duress in question was during one particularly animated D&D fight.

Eddie had gotten too excited and slapped an open palm down on top of a pointy figure, embedded it well into his skin.

The incident had derailed the campaign entirely and caused Hellfire as a whole to learn that their fearless leader really hated people watching him cry.)

Needless to say, a room full of children, his friends, his crush, and one of said kids' mothers wasn't exactly an ideal set up for Eddie to lose it.

So Gareth set himself up as a sort of barrier, blocking Eddie's view from the living room (and hopefully, vice versa, before making eyes at his friends to do the same.

Thankfully Jeff at least, caught on.

Communication was given through pointed looks and nudging elbows, but quickly enough, Hellfire managed to make a decently solid barrier between the kids (and Jonathan, who was doing an amazing job of chewing out said children) leaving Steve and Gareth as the sole onlookers.

“Alright, someone start talking.” Miss Byers loudly commanded, as she finally unearthed Eddie’s wounds.

To Eddie, she offered a well-used bottle of Tylenol, muttering quiet apologies before she began cleaning his very gross looking wound.

“Hey--” Gareth himself muttered, half praying he’d magically think of an excuse for Steve to fuck off, only to realize Hellfire’s jock had actually moved into the kitchen.

A line of mismatched mugs and cups was taking form on the counter, and it took a minute of carefully looking anywhere but at Eddie as Miss Byers worked to figure out Steve was making hot chocolate.

Figured that was probably smart, given Grant looked so tense Gareth expected his head to explode at any second.

(The loud arguing from the kids as they tried to explain didn't help any.)

A thought that Jonathan also seemed to have, given he put on a voice that sounded far to fatherly for Gareth's comfort and bellowed;

“Alright, enough!”

--which at least got him the silence he wanted.

“One at a time!” Jonathan parented from the living room. “Will, you start. Dustin you’re up next, then Mike, then El.”

He put his hands on his hips and Gareth nearly laughed aloud, because apparently the children weren't the only ones picking up Steve's mannerisms.

“Start from when you decided to sneak out without telling anybody but Steve.”

“If it makes you feel better we didn't actually tell Steve.” Dustin chirped.

Jonathan stared at him, and judging from his face alone Gareth expected utter hell to erupt from his mouth.

Instead they got a sort of quiet: “That does actually make me feel a bit better, thanks.”

Steve scoffed from the kitchen in response, which thankfully covered Eddie’s pained hiss from where Miss Byers was patting hydrogen peroxide into his bite mark.

Unfortunately for Jonathan, the kids came up with their own order and as always, let Dustin and Mike be their talking pieces.

“Like we told everyone else, it started because Will and El sensed something--” One began, right as red and blue lights splashed across the walls.

The source of the siren--a police truck that, judging bu the loud crunch of tires sliding on gravel and a shriek of breaks--had arrived.

Several of the children (plus Grant) cursed.

“Who called Hopper?!”

“He’s El’s dad idiot, of course someone called him.”

“Come on Max didn’t we talk about calling people names--”

Eddie tensed, as did the majority of the room, as loud, pounding footsteps tore up the front porch.

“I called him.” Miss Byers said as she rose from her crouch, apparently done re-bandaging Eddie.

She weaved her way through the room and was nearly taken out by her own front door when it was flung open to reveal the man himself, who looked like he’d spent the night fist-fighting his way through a bar, in the dark.

“El?!” He bellowed, eyes frantically scanning the room before landing on her.

The relief was so immediate it seemed to make him slump for a second.

Or rather, long enough for him to draw in enough air to get out a proper yell. “Someone better start explaining, right now. Starting with you Michael Wheeler!”

It was only then, as the man himself stepped into the light, that Gareth finally figured out why he looked sort of--off.

Unreal even, like a figure stepping out of a dream and into reality.

Jim Hopper, Chief of Hawkins Police Department, was wearing Scooby Doo pajamas.

The top was a faded orange color, boasting an image of a footstep in the center of a magnifying glass.

The bottoms were green, the head of the famed Great Dane patterned all over.

Combined?

It was Gareth's last straw.

‘You cannot be having a panic attack over the Chief’s pajamas.’ A far away part of Gareth thought hysterically, as his vision kaleidoscoped.

God, was he so fucking lame.

#adopt a jock #pre steddie #steddie #gareth emerson #steven harrington #eddie munson #the hellfire club #the party #and #a manticore #0o0 fanfics #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #hellfire adopts steve #RIP to hellfire you had a good run not knowing about any of this lol #tw small injury mention #tw panic attack mention there at the end #cause Gareth just kinda paused his while fighting for his life lol

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 4 months ago

Text

Fall into the sky

Written for @astrangersummer, week 5 (shhhh, we're not talking about how this is super fucking late, it's fine!)

Prompt: Constellations

Words: 1,527 (also on AO3)

Rated: T

Relationship: Steve/Eddie

Tags: Magic AU; Thief Eddie; Guard Steve; Forbidden love; Jailbreak

Notes: Part of my Phantom Thief mini series (Previous part | Part 1)

The world is sound. The crackle of fire and the rush of wind and the thunder of crumbling stone.

The world is color. The brilliant kaleidoscope of the sunset, stars emerging from the purple and pink backdrop of the sky.

The world is touch. Hands in his hair and fingers on his face and warm breath tickling his skin as he is scooped into a pair of trembling arms.

It crashes into Steve’s senses all at once, overwhelming and terrifying after the eternal white and the never-ending silence of his prison. It's too much. It's too beautiful. It can’t be real.

He's going insane.

He's been waiting to go insane for so long.

Because if insanity is sound and color and touch and a name on his lips that he thought he'd never hear again, if this is all in his head, he never wants to leave.

“Yes, sweetheart, it's me,” The vision murmurs, cradling his face in both hands. The gesture is comforting and soothing, and Steve realizes he's been babbling the name on repeat, an endless loop of Eddie Eddie Eddie. “I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm getting you outta here.”

Steve laughs, high-pitched and hysterical.

“You're-” he starts to say. His voice cracks. When he licks his lips, they taste like saltwater. “You're not really here. I've lost my mind, I'm imagining things.”

“Don't think you are,” Eddie hums. He's covered in soot and bleeding from a hundred tiny cuts, but his smile is bright and brilliant as always. “Wouldn’t be able to do this if I wasn't real, would I?”

His lips taste like ashes and magic. The ground shakes underneath them, and something crashes. Steve thinks that if the world broke apart around them right now, he'd happily stay in this kiss forever.

“Don’t,” he pleads when Eddie pulls away. “Don't stop.”

Eddie smiles, full of that grim determination that makes Steve’s stomach flutter.

“I won't,” he says, and the constellations in the sky glint in those impossibly dark eyes of his. Another crash pierces the air, so loud that Steve can feel it in his bones. “I swear it, honey. I'll get you back down and to safety, where they can't ever find us. And then I'll never stop kissing you, for as long as we both live.”

The world below the floating island is basked in dusk. Steve can see the shadows of clouds moving over the land, the sparkling bands of rivers weaving between forests and hills and cities. The ocean and the curve of the earth, far in the distance. He didn't see it when they brought him here. The view was obstructed by the giant tornado that surrounded this place, ready to tear everyone who dared approach it to shreds.

There's no tornado now.

Just like there are no griffins guarding the arched entryway of the fortress, no manticores prowling at the jagged edge of the island.

“What did you do?” Steve breathes as they skid to a halt, inches from the abyss. Behind them, the pillars of the entryway crumble and collapse. “How did you-”

“You know how they stay in power?” Eddie asks. He's ducked behind another pillar to retrieve a bundle of fabric and string, hidden out of sight. “Your family and their friends?”

Steve blinks, floundering and disoriented by the question and the barrage of noise and colors. Eddie straightens up, strapping what looks like a giant backpack decked in wires and ropes to his back.

“Magic,” he declares, throwing his arms out in an all-encompassing gesture. “This place, their splendid city, their fucking underwater prison, they all run on magic. Beautiful, isn't it? If it weren't for one tiny problem.”

He pauses dramatically, like he's waiting for Steve to catch on. When he fails to do so, he throws back his head and cackles, dark curls whipping around him in a chaotic tangle.

“There’s not enough natural magic in the world to keep it all going. So what did they do, like the greedy little morons they are? They amplified it!”

He laughs again, like it’s the best fucking joke in the entire world, grabbing Steve by the shoulders and pulling him in for a big, noisy smack on the mouth.

“Amulets and talismans and trinkets, Stevie! Dozens of them, all in the hands of the high and mighty, used to magnify their power. But take them away, and it all goes poof!”

He throws his hands up in the air, miming an explosion, just in time for another thunderous boom to shake the island. The ground tilts, just a bit.

“Do you know where they kept the most powerful one?” Eddie asks. This time, he doesn't wait for a reply. “Right here, Stevie. What better place than the big-ass, impenetrable, fucking sky vault to keep their biggest treasure, huh? They didn't think anyone would ever be insane enough to try and breach it. And you know what? I wouldn't have. They could've kept it, for all I fucking care, but they do not-”

The ground trembles again, little fissures erupting from the rock under their feet like spiderwebs. Eddie pauses and swallows, and his eyes are like fire in the dusk.

“They do not get to keep you.”

His voice is pure, unbridled rage. Steve knows the feeling all too well. The powerless rage of knowing exactly where they have taken the man you love, and having to be patient. Having to wait for days and weeks and months until your plan finally falls into place, knowing all the while that every hour, every second in that wretched place is too much. The all-consuming want to tear through all the walls, all the chains, all the barriers they’ve put in place to keep you apart, to destroy all that might ever stand in your way again.

Understanding comes slowly, but when it does, it punches the breath from his lungs with a hoarse wheeze. He is dizzy and his stomach swoops, but he isn't sure if it is from what he just realized or from the island breaking apart under their feet.

“You destroyed it,” he whispers. “Eddie, you- … what did you do?”

Eddie doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls Steve closer, slipping a leather-and-rope harness over his shoulders to tether them both together.

“This little baby is all mechanics,” he says, not looking up from his task. His face is nothing but grim concentration as he makes sure every buckle and every rope sits correctly. “I'd have been here sooner, but it took a while to put this together and make sure it would actually work, so-”

“What about your magic?” Steve blurts.

“Don't worry, it'll come back once the natural equilibrium is restored.” Eddie shrugs, walking them both to the ledge. “Some of it at least. I think.”

Steve gapes at him. Eddie looks up from where he's been securing the last of the straps, sees his dumbstruck face and smiles.

“Stevie,” he says. He's too beautiful to be real. Beautiful and wild and untamed like the wind ripping at their clothes, like the sky stretching all around them. If they jumped now, they'd fall straight into its stars and constellations and never ever touch ground again. “It doesn't matter. There's no treasure in the world I wouldn't give up for you.”

Steve opens his mouth to argue, but another tremor interrupts him. Large chunks of rock come loose from below their feet, tumbling into the depths.

“Do you trust me?” Eddie asks. Steve doesn’t even think about it. It's like asking if water is wet. Eddie sees him nod and beams, delighted and a little smug. “Then let's get outta here.”

He wraps an arm around Steve’s waist, claiming his lips again. And then, without breaking the kiss, he steps over the ledge and they plummet.

The wind rips Steve’s scream straight from his mouth. His guts twist and his limbs go light with terror, but Eddie laughs. He yanks on one of the ropes, and something unfurls from his backpack in a ripple of cloth and wire. It snaps open somewhere over their heads, and Steve’s stomach lurches, and then, suddenly, they're no longer falling.

They're gliding.

Above them stretches what looks like a giant sail, stitched together from dozens and dozens colorful scraps of fabric. It carries them like a bird's wings, taking them away from the crumpling island, away from walls and chains and barriers, away from all that kept them apart.

Eddie whoops into the night sky, loud and unrestrained. It takes Steve a second or two to recognize the voice that joins in as his own. His stomach is still light, like it's filled with a million beating wings, but he realizes that it's not from vertigo.

It's happiness.

The sheer, overwhelming exhilaration of knowing Eddie made it, that they're both free and together and never parting again. Of knowing this is real.

They soar through the clouds, with the constellations close enough to touch, the earth spanning far below them like something from a dream. And if they never touch ground again? Steve thinks he wouldn’t mind one tiny bit.

Next part

Tag list:

@sourw0lfs @bananahoneycomb @firefly-party @whoneedscanon @steddie-island

@sidekick-hero @theheadlessphilosopher @extra-transitional @penny00dreadful @medusapelagia

@mugloversonly @0happyeverafter0 @stevesbipanic @acingthecounts @sweetheartprincess28

@starryeyedjanai @sailing-through-hawkins @original-cypher @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #phantom thief au #a stranger summer

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anotherfcknschlattsimp · 2 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 1

the boys and mommy kinks

let's go

Schlatt

he sucked at card games, but he kept challenging you to game after game with higher and higher stakes. today? who gets to be in charge tonight.

you watch his cocky grin fly off his face as you laid down your last card and said that fateful word,

“Uno.” you smirk

“what the fuuuckkkk broooo” he whined

“stop being a big baby before mommy has to punish you~” you purr, testing the waters as you take his chin between your thumb and index knuckle. You hear him let out a frankly pathetic whimper before catching himself and clearing his throat.

“Yes ma’am.” he says firmly, clearly trying to bring back his tough guy persona and take control of the situation. You run your thumb over his lips, warm and slightly chapped, before leaning your face close to his

“That’s not my name and you know it…” you whisper seductively in his ear. He lets out a whimper of understanding

“I’m sorry,, mommy,,” he finally whines, letting himself go and letting you fully take over as you straddle his lap

Ted

“We can go on one condition,” you sigh, willing to go to another halloween party anyway but you love watching your man go puppymode. His eyes lit up

“Whatwhatwhat, anything, i’ll do the dishes, take out the trash, mop the kitchen, whatever you want my queen” he dramatically kisses up your arm like gomez to morticia, obvious in his attempts to butter you up

“Call me mommy” you smirk, still loving all the attention he’s giving every inch of your person until he pauses, still trying to process what you said

“wh-what?” he looks into your eyes, looking for any hint of a joke or bluff. not finding any, he straightens up a bit “that’s not much of a compromise if i win anyway” he mumbles, confused

“well do you wanna do the chores anyway?” you flutter your lashes at him

He leans down again, almost in a kiss. “Gladly, mommy” he kisses you deeply and moves to pick you up to take you to the bedroom

Charlie

“Hey babyyyy” you begin, waltzing into the kitchen where he was cutting some fruit

“Yessss lovey?” he questions, not looking up so he could safely cut his snack

“wanna try something new tonight?~” you purr, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head on his shoulder

“mmm, like what?” he mumbles, affection heavy in his voice

Charlie puts down the knife and turns in your arms, wrapping his around you and plopping his head on yours, planting oh so many kisses a second later

“What if you called me mommy, charchar? Be mommy’s good boy” you looked up at him when he paused; his face was bright red around his newfound thousand yard stare. You move to step back but he holds you still by your hips, looking down whare you two were touching

“Say it again.. mommy” he whispers, embarrassed that he was getting so turned on already

“Good boy? You wanna be mommy’s good boy tonight, baby?” he whines hearing it again, resting his forehead against yours

“Yeah.. thank you mommy” you feel him rutting slightly against where your leg is pressed to his crotch, needing some relief before he combusted right then and there in your kitchen “can we go to the bed in a moment” his voice wavered

tag list: @xoxoave @jschladderall @manticore-fangs @ezraholms @honeymochii @ratqueen06 @haceroo @ev3-sb @0miamor0 @miniminkis @lover-girl-for-life @jaytalksnonsense @baadkiitty @adriixboo @caiterculy @ratsatemyson @xplrmyguts @littleskeletonprincess @morgan-getty @britishscum @babies-blues @jay-cosplay-bin @vigari @bigbuvkybarness

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thebiggerbear · 11 months ago

Text

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - Alec McDowell Prompt Response

Summary: You're looking for a way to set yourself up and blend in after breaking out of Manticore. Having heard the rumors, you seek out Max for help. In doing so, you come across someone you had never thought you'd see again.

Pairing: Alec McDowell x Female!Reader; Alec McDowell x Female!Transgenic Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I have been in love with the world of Dark Angel and Alec ever since the show aired. To me, it's completely fascinating, and I really wish it had continued. (I was a big Malec fan back then btw; Lomax just wasn't my thing) There's so much to explore, especially with Max herself and how the transgenic community was going to move forward now that the public was aware of them. And of course, Joshua, OC, and Alec. Great stuff. Originally, I wasn't sure what scenario would best suit Alec based on this prompt line but I knew it would definitely be something that would apply to him. As far as It's A Wonderful Life, I was listening to the Christmas radio show they aired back in the 40's as I was outlining this one and the idea sort of came to life on its own. Hope this one's alright.

This is meant to take place mid-s2 and I did use events from the Berrisford Agenda episode (2x11) as inspiration for the beginning. 😉

Thanks to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!

Warnings: implied violence; implied murder; mention of fatal injury; implied sex

Word Count: 8419

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Alec Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You can also read on AO3

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version ✨ Beau version ✨ Dean version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Jason version ✨ Tom version ✨ CJ version ✨ Rachel version ✨ Anael version ✨ SDV Leah version

You made your way into the bike messenger shop, glancing around despite the busy, distracting din. Rumor had it that a transgenic named Max had a sweet hookup here, something a fellow transgenic like yourself could use, being on the run and all. You could get a job, make money, and more importantly: blend in; not to mention it would teach you the layout of the city, the ins and outs, and provide you with legal documentation to let you past checkpoints in case Manticore ever came looking.

So far, you hadn’t spotted the dark brunette you had been told about, and you didn’t sense any of your kind here. While a few people either walked past you, giving you a once-over as they did or stood there staring, all of them appeared to be human. Everyone else was milling to and fro, and you wondered if perhaps you’d been given wrong information. It had happened before so you were used to it, but this one you had really been hoping would turn out to be true. You could use a lucky break.

A man was barking out orders to a group of messengers before they dispersed, and his eye landed on you once they did. “You need something, Missy-Miss?”

You assumed the crankpot was the boss so you carefully approached him. “Uh, yeah, I was looking for—”

You were interrupted by yells coming from your far left. Your head snapped in the direction of the sounds and your eyes widened at what you saw.

There was the transgenic X5-494 backed up against the lockers, holding his hands out in a ‘whoa’ manner and giving the women in front of him his most charming grin; by the looks of their faces, it wasn’t working. “Ladies, ladies. No need to fight.”

“You didn’t tell me you were already seeing Lena when you asked me out!” One woman seethed.

“He asked you out?” Another woman, who you assumed was Lena, demanded. “I bet it happened right after we slept together, didn’t it?”

“He slept with you?” A third woman blanched.

“Tell me you haven't been making the rounds through the entire company,” another woman scoffed in disgust.

You shook your head, watching the show. Typical 494. Even out here he was still getting himself into trouble. By the sounds of it, he more than deserved the wrath of the women he was currently faced with, but you were still taken aback by his sudden appearance. Just when you thought you’d never see him again…

Before you knew it, the older man you had been talking to made his way over. “Alright, break it up! Break it up!” He forced his way next to 494 and glared at the ladies. “Shouldn’t you be working? You want your paychecks? Packages need to be delivered on time. Get going.”

The women grumbled and began to disperse, glaring in both men’s direction. “You just wait until later, Alec! This isn’t over!” 494 gave them all a sheepish smile while the other man scowled.

“Okay, okay! You’ve got deliveries to make. Packages don’t deliver themselves so let’s go, keep it moving!”

By the time they had all left, 494’s smile dropped and he seemed to deflate, gratefully clapping the man’s shoulder. “Thanks. I think they were about to eat me alive,” he laughed.

“Not on my watch,” the other man promised. “How’re you feeling, champ? You okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m good. Just, you know…” He gestured to where the women had disappeared and bugged his eyes before letting out a nervous chuckle.

“You should’ve let them take a swing at him,” a brunette woman suddenly threw at them as she approached her locker, which was near the two men. “It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.”

494 let out a huff. “Thanks, Max,” he mumbled.

That name caught your attention—so this was Max. It had surprised you to see 494 here of all places, but it made sense considering what X5-452 had set up here.

“Don’t be like that, Missy-Miss,” the older man warned the woman. “There’s no reason to have that kind of attitude.”

Max shook her head and discreetly rolled her eyes, zipping up her backpack. “So what have you got for me today, Normal?”

Normal held out two packages for her to take. “They need these by noon, not one second later.”

Max snatched the packages and nodded. 494 stepped closer to her. “I’ll come with you,” he insisted, still seeing some of the dirty looks he was receiving from girls coming to and fro.

She made a face at him which clearly said that wasn’t going to happen, and before she could voice that, Normal cleared his throat. “Not a bad idea. You could show him the ropes on that side of town and keep him from the estrogen mob looking to burn him at the stake. He’s got that raw animal charisma working and it’s causing trouble.” This time you made your own face of disgust. And this guy’s name was Normal? Far from it.

“Whatever,” Max snapped and shoved a package into 494’s chest, hard. She turned and was about to leave when you stepped forward.

“Max?” You called.

Her eyes snapped towards you as did 494’s and Normal’s. “Yeah?” She asked, seeming unsure.

You knew she was sensing who you really were just like you could sense her and 494 across the way, even if you hadn’t just been watching them. You ignored 494’s eyes widening at the sight of you and the sudden tension in his body, making your way closer. “I was wondering if we could have a word.”

Max’s brows furrowed and Normal glanced between you, holding up a finger. “No visitors at work, Miss. You know the rule: packages need to be there by noon. Make it quick.” He turned and walked away, completely uninterested in whatever conversation you two were about to have.

Max stepped over to you, studying you intently. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours. What do you want?”

494 was standing right next to her, his eyes never leaving you. The surprise was still evident in his expression along with something else you couldn’t quite put a name to.

You glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention to you, before turning and lifting your ponytail from your neck, letting her see the barcode tattoo you had. After a moment, you spun on your heel to find her appearing a little more receptive to what you had to say. “So, you got somewhere we can talk?”

She nodded and glanced over at 494 before inclining her head in a direction she expected you to follow her in. You obliged, your eyes briefly flickering to 494’s, before he followed both of you.

Once you were outside in a semi-private spot, Max turned to you, her arms crossed. “So, who are you really?”

“X5-498,” you answered.

Max glanced over at 494 before addressing you once again. “How long have you been on the run?”

“Since you destroyed the base and helped 494 escape.” You nodded in his direction. Yeah, maybe you were still a little bitter about that. 494 looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“I didn’t help him do anything,” Max insisted, her nose scrunching up in what appeared to be repulsion at the very idea.

494 ignored her and trained his gaze on you. “I thought you were dead.”

You smirked over at him and crossed your arms. “Sorry to disappoint.” You noticed his jaw tighten and his eyes narrow at the jab.

“You two know each other?” Max was looking between you but neither of you looked away from the other.

“She was my breeding partner,” 494 informed her.

Max’s eyes widened and turned on you. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “He wouldn’t have been my first choice, either.”

He snorted and the amused smirk you were more than familiar with began to appear on his face, yet he didn’t say a word.

“Oh-kay. That’s not super weird or anything.” She turned to 494. “You had more than one breeding partner? Were you Manticore’s stud horse or something?” She looked grossed out at the thought.

494’s eyes briefly flickered over to her. “498 and I were paired off long before you got there.”

“But then, if you were already paired off, why were you paired off with me, too?” Your gaze snapped to Max who looked genuinely confused for a moment before realization hit her. “Oh, right. It was all part of your big plan to get me to trust you so I could accidentally kill Logan. Got it.”

494 shrugged unapologetically. “Pretty much.” He turned back to you. “Renfro gave me the mission and told me if I didn’t succeed, then that’d be it for me. I was already on thin ice with them. So, she assigned me to you, Max, and I did what I had to do.”

“And he left me to die,” you supplied, gracing her with your smirk.

His jaw dropped before he closed his mouth and pressed his lips into a thin line. “I didn’t leave you there to die,” he protested.

“Leaving me there to burn to death constitutes as leaving me to die,” you countered. He glared at you but you ignored it. You noticed Max’s eyes constantly moving between the two of you and you decided you’d get to the point of why you were here. “452, I’m here because word on the street is that you have a way of helping fellow transgenics like yourself.” You motioned towards 494. “I was hoping you might be able to help me as well.”

She looked taken aback. “I don’t have anything set up like that. As a matter of fact, Alec here only got the job because of Normal’s weird worship of him.” 494 gave her a smug smile which made her roll her eyes. “But as far as other transgenics go, I don’t really have anything in place to help like you’re thinking. Sorry.”

You nodded, figuring as much. You thought it had been unlikely but you had hoped anyway. All you could do now was remain on the run until you could find a place where you could seamlessly blend in. “Thank you for your time.”

“Just hold up a sec,” 494 entreated you, but you ignored him.

You turned to leave when Max’s voice stopped you. “Wait.” You glanced back and found her watching you, compassion twinkling in her eyes. “Maybe there’s something we can do.” She quickly glanced at 494 who was giving her a look. Max rolled her eyes at him but lifted her chin when addressing you. “I wouldn’t put you with this one because it sounds like you’ve been punished enough already.”

494 shot her a glare to which she only smirked. You couldn’t help but smile yourself; perhaps you would like this 452 after all.

“But I think I have an idea of where you can stay. It’s temporary and you’d have a roommate, but we can see about getting you a job and getting you set up properly. Logan can help, too, with papers. If you’re serious and you plan to stay, that is.”

494 watched you intently. You thought it over for a moment. This proposal was better than anything you had going for you right now. Hell, you would have even stuck yourself with 494 again if it meant you’d have a place to sleep and something to eat, safe from Manticore for a while. You gave Max a nod. “Thank you.” To your surprise, 494 seemed to relax a bit at your response.

She smiled and turned, indicating you should follow. “You’ll be with Joshua for the time being. He’s pretty easy to get along with,” she assured you, her tone softening a bit. You could tell she was fond of the guy she was mentioning.

“Joshua?” You questioned, looking from her to 494.

494 stayed in step with you as you all made your way out onto the street. He shot you a smile as Max retrieved her bike. “You like dogs?”

Joshua did indeed turn out to be a decent roommate. He was kind and thoughtful and actually a little funny. Truthfully, you hadn’t been prepared to find a dogman as your new temporary roommate, but once you found out about his history, you found yourself feeling compassion for his situation. You were glad he had managed to escape the destruction of the base that night.

Max kept her word and set you up with a job as a bike messenger at Jam Pony (apparently a couple of the girls 494 had been involved with decided to up and quit for some strange reason), which gave you access to all of the legal documentation you’d need to get past certain checkpoints in the city. She’d introduced you to her friends Original Cyndi and Sketchy, who would also turn out to be your coworkers. Normal viewed you as another hooligan he was forced to pay for standing around and not doing your job just like the rest, though despite his warped assertions, you actually did get your work done. You ended up going on runs with 494 and Max to get to know the ins and outs of the job. Outside of work, you kept your distance unless your help was needed. Max and OC had invited you to Crash a couple of times, but you bowed out, especially when Sketch seemed a little too invested in your joining them. You also met Logan and Asha, neither of whom you cared for very much; still, they were important to your fellow transgenics and Logan was helping you, so you kept your thoughts to yourself. All in all, you were settling into life in Seattle and beginning to blend in. And you avoided 494 like the Plague despite his couple of attempts to approach you and strike up a conversation, so everything was going pretty swell.

You had even found a new place you liked to escape to every now and then. You knew the Space Needle was also Max’s favorite spot—she had told you as much—but after a long day, you liked to get to the highest point and look out over the city you now were beginning to call home.

It was one such peaceful night when 494 found you.

“Thought I’d find you here.” He carefully lowered himself down next to you.

You didn’t respond and instead focused on the feel of the cool breeze gently blowing through your hair.

“I’m glad you made it out,” he admitted.

You shot him a look before returning your attention to the city.

“I am.” He rested his forearms on his knees and looked out towards the city skyline. “I know what we had wasn’t of our making, but it wasn’t all horrible, was it?”

You let his question hang in the air. No, it hadn’t been all horrible, but it was still a messed up situation you both had been thrust into. Based on what you’d learned about his sessions with Max, copulation hadn’t needed to happen due to the background plan. You and 494 weren’t so lucky after a while, just like every other pair of breeding partners in the facility. By the time Max was recaptured and brought to the base, Renfro and company were already starting to side-eye the two of you and wanted to know how you hadn’t gotten pregnant yet. Almost every other pairing had been successful or reassigned if they weren’t; you were arousing too much suspicion by your constant failure to report an impregnation despite your successful copulations. The truth was that you and 494 did what you could to prevent it from happening. You had no desire to add to the ranks of Manticore transgenics and neither did he, something you both had been on the same page about since the first night you’d been thrown into a cell together.

You hadn’t fooled yourselves. This wasn’t about love or any attraction you had for one another, nor was it even a fun roll in the sheets; you both would not have chosen each other if you’d had a say in any of it. This was all about science and genetics, and it was purely clinical. That didn’t mean that there weren’t a few moments here and there that you snatched for yourselves: a laugh here, a tender moment there, a camaraderie forged between you in flipping off the organization that had created you and controlled you since your first breaths. So no, it wasn’t all horrible.

Which is why you didn’t protest or move away when you felt him subtly shift a little closer to you. You nearly smiled at the action; 494 had always sought a connection between you, something that superseded the physical. You couldn’t count the amount of times after your sessions that you had both held onto each other: you still remembered how he would wrap his arms around you and pull you close, letting out a content sigh as you ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, scratching at his scalp in the way you knew he liked. And he would make sure every inch of him was still touching you on the uncomfortable cot suspended from the wall, before the guards were due to come back and retrieve him. How he would chatter away about different subjects, doing his best to engage you.

“I went back for you,” he murmured.

Surprise ran through you as you turned wide eyes on him.

“Once they revealed the base’s location and I was able to get free, I went back for you.” He stared at you, swallowing compulsively. “But by the time I got there, it was too late. I thought you were gone.”

You could see the truth of what he was saying in his green eyes, but you refused to give in that easily. You huffed out a snort and turned back to the view. “More like you were hoping.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him shaking his head. “I never wanted you gone.”

You ignored him and continued your ritual of observing the city, allowing silence to fall between you. Only when he slowly took your hand into his did you turn a glare on him and finally speak: “I hate you, you realize that, right?”

“You have a weird way of showing that.” He nodded his head towards your intertwined fingers.

You rolled your eyes but you didn’t pull away. “Don’t you have a harem to get back to? Or what’s her name…Asha? Now that you’re free to choose who you want to copulate with. You didn’t seem to have any issue finding willing partners before I showed up.”

This time, he was the one who snorted. “Just passing time.”

You finally did pull away, grimacing. “Ew.”

He let out a nervous-sounding laugh. “I just meant it’s all been casual. Nothing serious.”

You side-eyed him. “Good luck with that.” You got to your feet and were about to leave when he grabbed your hand to stop you, forcing you to look down at him.

“Y/N,” he murmured, using the name Max had picked out for you. It wasn’t your favorite, but you needed something to go on the paperwork for Jam Pony and the papers Logan was acquiring for you, so you figured it would do. Perhaps you’d even grow into it and it could be a decent identity for you.

“494?”

He shot you a glare. “Alec.”

Right. Max had named him, too. That was something he’d mentioned on one of the runs you, he, and Max had gone on. You had smirked at Max’s explanation of that choice while 494 had rolled his eyes.

“Okay then. Alec?” It felt weird to call him that yet at the same time…it felt like a good fit.

His thumb tenderly stroked against your skin and he watched you. “Just wanted to see how it sounded. Using our names instead.”

You nodded. You could understand that. All of this was new and…fragile in a way. Any moment you could be found, you could either be killed or worse — brought back to another base. However, from what you’d heard, the former was more likely to happen these days. Max had encouraged you to start thinking about what you wanted out of life, and so far, freedom was certainly at the top of your list. You might be free right now, but you weren’t really free, not with your captors still out there who viewed you as their property, to apprehend or destroy at will. You had a feeling that Alec knew that just as well as you did, no matter the optimistic picture Max tried to paint for Joshua or any other transgenics she might come across.

He tugged on your hand to urge you to sit back down next to him. You resisted for a moment but then decided to oblige. What did a few minutes more matter in the scheme of things? He snuck an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer. Had it been anyone else, that arm would have been ripped from its socket by now.

Alec gave you a small smile and leaned down to press a kiss to your hair, flooding you with memories of every time he’d done just that. Other memories made appearances, too: his sharing with you about his side hustle of trading things with guards for certain comforts, something he actually used on your behalf a few times; his laugh and kiss to your head when both of you had gotten a little too much into one copulating session, almost making the two of you forget to take your usual precautions; his promise of getting you both out of there together if you could hold out just a little longer; his expression when he told you that he thought Renfro had a mission for him that would keep him out of your barracks for the next few nights but that he’d do his best to see it through quickly and return; the last time you’d seen him when he’d exchanged a look with you across the yard before you and your unit were led away for more drills and testing, you thinking back to the worry you’d seen in his expression and since you didn’t know the cause, it created your own set of worries — 494 never let it show if he was ever worried or scared.

You weren’t sure how to feel about any of this. Yes, you and Alec had history but it had been forced upon you. Although you had forged some sort of connection during it all, it didn't mean that either of you were looking to continue that or see where it went on the outside—especially now that you were able to choose for yourselves. Still, that connection hadn’t simply ceased to exist just because you wished it would… Especially not when he was trying his damndest to restore some piece of it, right here and right now.

He lowered his head to meet your eyes and you could feel something familiar inside your chest squeezing a little bit. You told yourself that it had to be heartburn from the chicken stew you’d eaten for dinner earlier, and not anything to do with him at all. “I’ve missed this,” he quietly admitted. “Just talking and being together. Didn’t you?”

You gave him a look of disbelief mixed with amusement. “I don’t really think we did all that much talking as I remember it.”

That cocky smirk of his was back. “True.”

You rolled your eyes and he laughed. You enjoyed the familiar sound that caused more memories to wash over you. You would never admit it but the bond you’d shared had actually been the only good thing to sustain you when you were running after the explosion. You’d hoped that wherever he was, he had gotten away and was safe. You knew he hadn’t been in his barracks; you’d checked amidst the chaos.

Thinking back to that night, you rested your head back against his shoulder and stared out into the night. His lips tipped up in a small smile and he laid his head up against yours, following your gaze. You both stayed like that for the next hour until he murmured to you, “Come back with me?”

You turned to frown up at him. Was he for real? “Really?”

“No, not that, I just meant…” He ran his free hand over his hair. “I didn’t think I’d see you again and now you’re here. I didn’t really know how to ask you before without it sounding like that. But I want to show you my place.” He gave you a bit of a proud smile.

You considered it. It would be interesting to see what kind of setup he had going for himself. That had been something you had talked about back in your bunk at the base as he held you to him, his hands roaming your bare back. “You sure Alec’s groupies won’t mind?”

Alec smirked and shook his head. “I don’t have any roommates or regular visitors if that’s what you’re asking.”

You smirked right back and leaned in, making his eyes drop to your lips. “I wasn’t,” you whispered before dropping his hand and getting to your feet.

He got up as well, grinning over at you, that familiar fire lighting those sharp green eyes. “Just think: no guards to bribe, no need to keep it down, no time limit, no metal cot we both have to try to fit on…”

You snorted. “So you really are asking me to go back with you for that reason.”

“No, I really do want to show you the sweet setup I have.” His smile then turned wicked. “But if that were to happen, I wouldn’t exactly be against it.”

“Uh-huh.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, looking away from him. You did your best to hide your own smile when he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his lips near your ear.

“So what do you say? Let me show you my apartment. I got a couch, a bed, a tub…”

“Ooh, a tub?” You pretended to be impressed though you weren’t pretending too much. If a tub was considered a luxury before the world went to hell, then it was an even rarer commodity now.

“Yep,” he huskily whispered as he brushed a kiss to your ear lobe. “All the hot water and soap you could want.” He trailed his lips down your neck, making your eyes shut halfway. “And I’ve got glasses, plates, a coffee table… I even have a stereo.”

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip when he found that spot on your neck that he knew you loved. “A stereo?”

“For music,” he explained, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “And I even managed to score some whiskey from years back, pre-pulse. You’ll love it,” he promised before nuzzling your cheek. “Come home with me.”

You stared out over the horizon, unsure if you should give in to what he was tempting you with. Before, at Manticore, the sex had been clinical and while there was a connection between you, given the circumstances, it made sense to stick together like glue. But now… “I don’t know if I should. We’re out now and everything’s changed.”

He spun you in his arms, his brows furrowed as he cupped your face with his hands. “Not for me. I meant what I said to you in there, we were gonna get out together, find some place to blend in, and make it work.”

“But we didn’t get out together,” you whispered, gently removing his hands from you before stepping around him towards the door.

He grabbed your hand. “Y/N.” You glanced back at his earnest expression. “I did come back for you. When everything exploded and I didn’t hear or see any trace of you, I thought—”

“I know. I went to look for you, too, once I managed to get out of my barracks.” His eyes widened slightly in surprise. “That guard, Hayes, he let me out. He said something about a deal you had in place with him if things went wrong while you were away on your mission.” You dropped your gaze. “It must’ve really cost you, so… Thanks for that.” You squeezed his hand before letting it go and making your way inside the abandoned building.

You didn’t look back; there was no point. When you thought back to that night, you remembered Hayes sneering at you as he opened your cell door, spitting something about telling 494 that he owed him something better than cigars and the usual contraband this time. You didn’t bother thanking the man who treated you and every other transgenic on the base as nothing more than freak science experiments that were less than human, and you booked it towards the male barracks, fighting your way through when you needed to. You would never forget the relief you felt finding the specific bunk you were looking for empty, that was then followed by the feeling of betrayal, which quickly shifted into acceptance. You hoped he was alive out there somewhere, whether he had made it out before you got there or he had already been out in the world on his mission. You had chalked up your time together as a weird yet not so bad interaction and kept running. You’d even seen Hayes’ dead body on your way out, his throat torn apart, almost as if that too was closing the book on this messed up chapter of your life.

And that’s what you’d done: closed that chapter of your life and attempted to move on, to do what you could to figure out your own life. You never expected to see 494 again, let alone find him living his life, a harem of women around him. It had stuck a finger into that particular wound for a moment before the blanket acceptance was back in place. Your relationship was exactly as you’d thought it had been for both of you: something that had been forced upon you by your creators and you both had tried to make something good out of it (just not the child Manticore had wanted). And now, it was over. You both were on the outside and it was time for you both to go your separate ways, figuratively if not literally. He’d done right by you in that last moment and you’d escaped, gotten free, and lived. What more could you ask for?

You were just about to scale down to the next level when his hand landed on your shoulder, making you look back at him.

“Y/N, come back with me to my place. I want to show you something.”

You gave him a look. “494—”

“Alec,” he corrected. “I’m not talking about sex, though if you wanted that at some point, like I said, I’m more than willing.” He lifted his hand to cup your cheek and he stared into your eyes, willing you to agree. “I really want to show you something.”

His thumb tenderly ran along your bottom lip in a familiar gesture that had always preceded a kiss before he left you for the night. A part of you hoped he would repeat the action but when he didn’t, you were more relieved than anything. Your body yearned for his—the familiarity, the comfort—but you still didn’t think you should fall back into old habits—it could only end badly, whether he ended up getting bored or one of you (or both) were found by your enemies. You felt incredibly torn. Truthfully, you weren’t quite sure what you wanted when it came to him.

“Please,” he added. “Come over.”

He looked so determined, so earnest, that you found yourself slowly nodding in agreement.

His handsome face lit up with a bright smile. “I promise, you’re really gonna like it.” He urged you to follow him, scaling to the next level down with you right behind him. You hoped he was right, and you also hoped you would finally get some sort of answer for yourself on whether to explore this new great unknown with him with the former Emerald City as the backdrop in contrast to your cramped cell or to close the book on him for good.

You had to admit, Alec had a nice apartment. It was bigger than you’d imagined and he had told you the truth: he had glasses, plates, a coffee table, a couch, a bed, a tub, the so-called stereo (which he turned on for a minute to show you how it worked), and the whiskey he’d promised. As you drank from your glass, marveling at the taste, you glanced around, nodding.

“Nice,” you complimented.

“Thanks.” He took your hand and led you to a corner of the living room where a box sat tall on some sort of stand. He released you to go over and stand next to it, turning to beam over at you. “What do you think?”

Your eyes roved over the box with a glass front, confused. “It’s…great?”

He gave you a look as if you should know what it was before smiling wide again. “It’s a TV,” he crowed.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “TV?”

“Yeah, you know, to watch movies and TV shows, that kind of thing.”

You peered at it, wondering just how it worked. You’d heard of movies of course, but you’d never seen one. Did the images just appear on the glass when you turned it on? Was there something that needed to be selected or perhaps inserted somewhere?

He proudly laid a hand on top of it. “I managed to get ahold of it after one of my customers I’ve been selling synthetics to heard about some old lady dying nearby who had one. I headed right over to her place and got this beauty.” He smiled down at it.

“You’ve been selling synthetics?” Of course he was still hustling, even out here. In Manticore, it had been a necessity; out here, if it helped him get nice digs like this and set him up, you had to give him credit for keeping it going and getting creative.

“Among other things. Oh, and look.” He gestured down to another smaller box sitting in front of it. “I was also able to get a VCR. It took me a few months to get a lead on one of these, but I got it.” He chuckled and turned a wide smile on you.

You returned the smile, still unsure of what a VCR was.

“And the best part,” He took your glass from you and placed it on top of the TV before he grabbed something from behind it and shoved it into your hands. You looked down at the rectangular object and spied a familiar image you had only seen once before, when you were on the run from Manticore the first time. Your eyes widened; something you had told Alec about one night after copulating a few times and he was falling asleep, him tiredly rubbing your shoulder as you laid your head on his chest, one of the nights he’d bought more time for you both… The sight made the corners of your eyes sting, yet you forced yourself to keep the tears at bay. He had heard you that night even while nodding off and he’d— he’d managed to get his hands on it. “It’s that movie you told me about,” he began. “It’s—”

“--A Wonderful Life,” you finished in an awed whisper. You reverently traced the picture you’d seen a hundred times before Manticore caught you. You ignored the rips and stains surrounding the rim of the image and focused on the man who’d caught your interest in the first place. He looked happy, staring down at his wife, the two of them surrounded by their children, one hoisted up behind him and holding onto him for dear life. They all looked happy, which was something you’d never had or known. You’d never had a father, never knew your mother, and you’d never had a family, not like the one portrayed in the picture. Sure, you had dozens of brothers and sisters, but you weren’t a family. Manticore would punish you if any of you had even uttered the word. You were soldiers in training and that was it.

Still, this image piqued your interest and many nights, you found that you couldn’t stop staring at it. It was in an old theater, a place you’d managed to find while running the first time—the same place you took shelter in and eventually turned it into your own setup. There were other people throughout the theater who’d had the same idea, but they pretty much left you alone once you’d fought off the biggest guy in the group who had stupidly tried to take your food from you. Once you’d seen that poster, it created a yearning in you for something you had never known, something you never imagined wanting. You didn’t need parents and you didn’t need siblings, but you did crave family… Something that became more and more apparent the more you studied the image, imagining what that life would be like.

Which is why it was so cruel when Manticore recaptured you and immediately thrust you into its breeding program. Not only had they taken your life from you since conception, viewed you as their property that they were determined to see some sort of return of their investment on—now they wanted to take whatever life you could create from you and control it, too. You weren’t going to let that happen. As a matter of fact, you’d fought 494 off the first night they sent him into your cell. It had taken him by surprise because he’d thought you both were on the same page: you had orders. But he’d quickly learned that you’d rather die than follow those particular ones. He’d maintained his distance until a guard came to retrieve him, and as he’d glanced back at you one last time as he stepped across the threshold, you knew then that you were marked for death. A soldier refusing to obey and follow orders was no good to the organization and more importantly, of no use. Thus, it took you by surprise the next day when 494 confirmed the success of your copulation the previous night to your superiors which led to him being brought back to your cell later that night to continue.

From there, even though it took a little bit, you’d both talked and began getting to know one another. You’d learned that he didn’t want to spawn any kids for Manticore anymore than you did. Eventually, a bond began to form between you and of course, so did an attraction. The night you got hit with your first heat since being recaptured—thanks to a splash of feline DNA in your system, something you’d always been able to manage on the outside before—things had changed between you, and 494 no longer had to lie when reporting that copulation had been successful. Nonetheless, the entire time you’d been back in Manticore’s hands, you’d never forgotten about that picture and what you truly wanted: your freedom, a life, and eventually, family—happiness. You wanted to be happy just like the people in the poster.

And now here you were: on the outside, free for the moment, attempting to build a life, and this picture had somehow made its way back to you, right into your very hands, real enough to literally touch. “How did you get it?”

“One of Max’s fences gave me a line on where I could find one.”

You glanced up to find him watching you intently. You gave him a small grateful smile and you could see relief flood through his expression before he covered it with a smile of his own.

He cleared his throat. “I got it before you showed up, but…I never watched it. I couldn’t bring myself to. It felt wrong to watch it without you, especially after how you talked about it, so it’s been sitting in that case for months. I hope it still works.” He let out in a quiet chuckle.

You placed the box down on top of the TV and approached him. He watched as you cupped his face with your hands and pulled him down to you, your lips meeting for the first time since seeing him again. That all-too familiar feeling flooded you and this time, you didn’t fight the smile that made its way to your face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” This time, he was the one initiating a kiss, and he snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you into him.

Only when you both needed air and he pulled away to trail kisses down to your neck did you tease into his ear, “So exactly how many girls have you shown this movie to?”

“None,” he breathed, nibbling on your earlobe. “I told you, I didn’t want to watch it without you.”

“You expect me to believe that you haven’t shown the TV or the VCR to any other girls?” You chuckled.

He pulled back to meet your eyes. “Okay, yeah, fair enough, I’ve shown them both of those, but not that movie, I swear. That was always yours.”

You knew you should be disgusted—not only that he had been such a callous player in your absence but also because he had used similar moves on you—but right then, you decided to throw all caution to the wind, even if just for one night. Seeing the movie picture again had reminded you that you needed to take happiness wherever you could find it, because thanks to your life, who knew how much longer you had?

“So,” you whispered huskily as you ran your fingers through his hair. “What were you saying about a bed and no time limit…?”

His eyes lit up with that familiar fire and he smirked. “Oh, hell yes.” He kissed you harder than before and picked you up, making you laugh into his mouth, as he used his transgenic speed to get you to the bedroom.

You watched the images on the screen in awe. You and Alec were sharing a blanket to keep your nude bodies warm as you sat in his embrace, the only light in the place coming from the TV. He had his chin resting on your bare shoulder, watching the movie intently with you. The man from the movie poster, George, was telling the woman, Mary, how he was going to travel the world and he was listing off his dreams right before she threw a rock at the abandoned house they were facing. When they started singing, Alec began to frown, but you? You were completely enraptured. You’d never seen or heard anything like this before.

In the beginning, the tape had seemed like it didn’t want to work, black and white tears in the image as it played, but thankfully Alec knew what he was doing with the equipment and how to get it working. Ever since then, your eyes hadn’t strayed from the screen once, even when Alec had tried to get a second round going, promising you he could pause the film and you could finish watching it later. When he’d failed to garner your attention, he’d pressed a kiss to the back of your head and settled behind you, letting out a quiet sigh of contentment as he’d burrowed into your neck before rejoining you in watching the movie.

When George told Mary that he’d give her the moon, Alec rolled his eyes and dropped a kiss onto your skin. “That’s lame,” he muttered.

You turned to look at him. “Why? Because he wants to give her anything she wants?”

“No. Because he’s going to lasso the moon. Lasso the moon? Really?”

You laughed and he smiled, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Alright, sure, it’s cheesy, but the message isn’t.”

“It’s not?” Alec moved to kiss your ear.

“No. He likes her that much, he’d do anything for her. Kind of nice actually,” you ended in a whisper as you turned back to the screen. You let out a soft chuckle when the old man interrupted the couple and told George that he talked too much and he should kiss Mary already.

Alec, who had glanced back at the screen to watch that part of the scene, turned an affectionate smile on you before leaning in to nuzzle your cheek. “Stay here tonight,” he urged.

Your eyelids dropped halfway when he moved his lips to your neck and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “I can’t. Joshua will be worried.”

“The big guy will be just fine, trust me,” he promised, his lips gliding back to your shoulder. “I want you to stay.”

You thought it over. You both had reacquainted yourselves earlier quite nicely so that wasn’t an issue. Just like Alec had said, it had been amazing to be in a bed for once, not under the pressure of a timeclock or having to worry about prying eyes and listening ears milling around. You didn’t have to separate soon after you were finished if the guards Alec usually bribed weren’t on shift that night. Here, you were free to just be and let things take their own course and that had been a phenomenal feeling. As for what came next… you weren’t too sure about that. You hadn’t done a lot of talking since Alec carried you into his bedroom and playfully dropped you on the bed, knowing it wouldn’t hurt you. You had let out an incredulous laugh and he mirrored your grin before he’d been all over you.

You watched as he pressed tender kisses to your bare skin before glancing up at you hopefully. You took his face into your hand and he leaned into your touch. Seeing that, you decided to state your one condition if he truly wanted you to stay. “No more girls.” You refused to look away as you threw down that gauntlet. While he never said he wanted anything more than tonight with you, you needed him to know that if this did somehow go past that, you wouldn’t be wondering just who he had in his bed or on his couch a few hours before you would arrive at his front door. Or who he might bring back to this apartment to show his TV and VCR to.

He stared at you for a moment until the corner of his lips tipped up into a bit of a smug smile. “No more girls,” he agreed.

You tilted your head at him, studying his expression.

“What?” He laughed.

“Just like that?”

Alec’s smile grew and he leaned in to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Just like that.” You weren’t the least bit surprised when he suddenly turned you around in his arms to face him, one hand keeping the blanket over you, cocooning you both. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully at you before covering both of your heads with the blanket and leaning in for the kill.

“What about the movie?” You laughed as he began to kiss your neck.

“That’s the great thing about tapes. We can watch it again anytime we want,” he murmured, his hands starting to roam your body insistently.

“So we can watch the lasso the moon part again?” You teased.

He groaned into your neck, making you laugh. “Yeah, we can, if that’s what you want,” he grumbled, sounding like he was going to majorly suffer when you watched it again.

You pulled back, smiling, and cupped his face. “I want you,” you told him earnestly. And you did. You wanted more nights with him like this, you wanted what you two had managed to create back in your cell. Studying him now, you could see the man who had become almost everything to you back then, who’d kept you going during the rough moments, who ended up looking out for you even though he usually lived by the unwritten rule of only ever looking out for himself.

His eyes stared into yours and a small smile began to form on his face. “Then stay,” he urged.

You pretended to think over it for a minute and when you grinned over at him, his smile was already mirroring yours. “Okay,” you answered playfully, as if he had only posed a simple question like asking you if you wanted a drink or not. You moved up to kiss him and bury your fingers in his disheveled hair. “No lassoing the moon required,” you murmured to his lips.

He rolled his eyes and quickly maneuvered you onto your back with him right on top of you. He smirked down at you, leaning in to kiss you. “I’ll give you something better than the damn moon,” he mumbled into your mouth, making you laugh.

You didn’t want the moon or the stars (except the ones Alec made you see exploding behind your eyelids from time to time) or anything else that grand. What you wanted was simple: everything right here in front of you at this moment. A life that was your own, a job that helped keep money coming in, a roof over your head that offered protection from the cold, the wet, and intruders, while offering you a safe space to rest your head at night; food in your stomach, clothes that fit, and the feelings that coursed through you every time Alec kissed you.

Post-pulse Seattle might not be Bedford Falls and you might not be George Bailey or even Mary for that matter, but you were free, you were building a life, and you were happy. And someday, if you lived long enough, you might even get that family you’d been yearning for. From the look of things, between Joshua, Max, and now Alec, you were hopefully already starting to form something akin to the idea. And really, what more could you ask for?

dividers by @firefly-graphics

#alec mcdowell x reader #alec mcdowell x female reader #alec mcdowell x y/n #alec mcdowell fanfiction #thebiggerbear writes #i hate you you have a weird way of showing that

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the-pen-pot · 9 days ago

Text

(A repost of an older fic to celebrate the first snow where I am. Merthur, G rated, winter shenanigans, first kiss, 4000 words !)

The other nobles did not have to tolerate pointed comments about their intelligence or the size of their waistline (which had not changed an inch, no matter what Merlin said.) They did not have to suffer messy chambers and the frustration of a manservant who would not do what he was told unless it suited him.

And perhaps Arthur was petty, but it did give him some small satisfaction to see Merlin scowling at him from the edge of the duelling ring.

'He'll turn you into a frog,' Gwaine said cheerfully, swearing as Arthur dodged the blow of his sword and smacked Gwaine's exposed side with the flat of his own weapon. 'Chuck you in a well and leave you there.'

Arthur discovers there's a difference between knowing Merlin has magic and truly seeing it for himself.

Winter coated Camelot in its chill, its ice seeping through the stone walls as frost painted ferns on the windowpanes. Anyone with an ounce of common sense would be curled up in bed or ensconced by the fireside, refusing to move. Yet training waited for no man, and the more exposure he could give his knights to fighting in all weathers, the better prepared they would be for whatever the future held.

Of course, that didn't mean that Merlin had to be here, shivering in the shrill wind that howled across the land, but it was suitable punishment for the sheer amount of insolence Arthur had put up with that morning.

The other nobles didn't have to tolerate pointed comments about their intelligence or the size of their waistline (which had not changed an inch, no matter what Merlin said.) They did not have to suffer messy chambers and the frustration of a manservant who would not do what he was told unless it suited him.

And perhaps Arthur was petty, but it did give him some small satisfaction to see Merlin scowling at him from the edge of the duelling ring.

'I'm not sure he can do that,' Leon replied from where he was trying, and failing, to get through Percival's guard.

Arthur grunted. In truth, none of them were quite certain what Merlin could do. They had found out his secret at summer's end, thanks to a nasty incident with a manticore. It had been weeks before Arthur could look him in the eye again and months to be comfortable even alluding among friends to the fact that Merlin, of all people, had magic.

(It had taken him only five thundering heartbeats to realise that he could not execute Merlin, and less than a candle-mark to rule out exile. He tried not to think too hard about why that might be: it felt like admitting too much, even to himself.)

Now they had all reached the point where they could, carefully, make light of it. After all, they were still in Camelot. The wrong word in the wrong ear could be a disaster for them all, but out here on the training ground only the wind bore witness.

'I think you'd be lucky if he restrained himself to something so harmless.' Lancelot ducked out of range of Elyan's swing, cursing as he skidded in the icy mud before righting himself. 'He's probably freezing to death.'

A small flare of guilt sparked in Arthur's belly, because even he could admit that Merlin looked miserable. His shoulders were hunched up to his ears, which had turned an alarming shade of red. The tip of his nose wasn't much better: the only flash of colour in a pale face. Those blue eyes alternated between glaring at the knights and looking up at the clouds that darkened the sky above their heads.

Almost as soon as Arthur deigned to notice, the first, fat flake of snow drifted down, joined by dozens of others. They melted in the ice-churned mud, but Arthur knew it would not be long before it began to stick and make life difficult. Training in the cold was one thing, but having any of his best knights out of action because of an avoidable injury was another matter.

'All right,' Arthur conceded at last. 'That's enough for today. Let's get inside before it gets worse.'

He politely chose to ignore the way his men sighed in relief. In truth, he could sympathise with them. It was fine when they were moving through drills, but the moment they stopped, the cold seeped in. Sweat turned clammy beneath his armour, and his fingers stiffened around the hilt of his sword. It made his thoughts turn longingly towards a warm bath and some mulled wine by the fireside.

'Finished hitting each other with sticks, Sire?' Merlin asked as he approached, the honorific delivered in the same tone of voice he used to call Arthur a prat. Just like that, the fledgling tendrils of Arthur's pity withered away.

Stripping off his gauntlets, he threw them at Merlin, huffing as those lithe fingers caught them. He didn't drop Arthur's vambrace either, despite him barely bothering to aim. Merlin did not even break stride, falling in at Arthur's left hand as they headed towards the courtyard and the armoury on its far-side. He'd expected him to be a shivering, sniffing ball of misery, but though he looked cold, Merlin certainly wasn't acting like it.

'The knights are done for the day,' Arthur conceded, narrowing his eyes in Merlin's direction, knowing just what to say to make him squawk. 'You, however... It is criminal that my manservant cannot wield a sword. Maybe you and I should spend another few hours out here? If nothing else, perhaps some time on your footwork would make you less clumsy.

With his next step, Arthur noticed two things. The first was the glimmer of beautiful gold in Merlin's eyes, mere subtle sparks that made Arthur itch to see more. The second was the way his boot hit the black ice that blanketed the cobbles of the courtyard, failed to find any traction, and skidded from beneath him.

Perhaps it would have been all right if he had not grabbed Leon to try and stop his fall, because Leon's footing was no better than his. It set off a chain reaction that resulted in six armoured knights crashing to the stone with a deafening clatter and the occasional cry of alarm.

Arthur wondered if the others noticed a gentle touch of something cushioning their descent before they could hit the ground. Not that he had gratitude to spare. Not when he was fairly certain that Merlin had conjured the ice in the first place, and certainly not when his wretched manservant snorted with stifled laughter, his shoulders shuddering with mirth and his eyes bright.

'What was that about footwork, Sire?' he managed, standing judiciously out of range as the knights groaned and swore and struggled like beasts stuck on their backs.

'Help me up,' Arthur ordered, trying not to wheeze. The only thing he'd bruised was his pride, but the fall had knocked the wind from him. 'Or I will put you in the stocks until Yule.'

Merlin scratched the side of his head as if he were considering it before tucking Arthur's vambrace under his arm and holding out his hand. Arthur grabbed it without hesitation, noticing the warmth of Merlin's fingers.

For all that he was only dressed in a too-thin tunic, it was as if the chill didn't touch him, and Arthur realised Merlin must have been using his magic to stay warm while they trained. The red ears and hunched shoulders had been nothing but a sham, and he huffed in disbelief.

The moment Merlin had him upright, Arthur tightened his grip and pulled, his stomach fluttering as Merlin staggered closer until they were almost nose-to-nose.

'You did that on purpose,' he murmured, his voice no more than a threatening murmur. 'The ice.' He thought of the way Merlin had been glaring at the clouds. 'The snow?'

Merlin pursed his lips, saying nothing, but Arthur knew him too well to believe the expression of baffled innocence painting his features. Back when he'd found out about Merlin's magic, he'd worried about harm coming to his people, or the overthrow of Camelot all together. Instead, it turned out that Merlin was using his power to, what, play harmless pranks?

'Inside. Now.' Arthur gripped Merlin's nape, scruffing him like a dog and urging him ahead. Merlin squawked in protest, but he didn't struggle as Arthur called over his shoulder, telling the knights that the rest of the day was their own.

The short march up through the castle gave Arthur time to sort through the restless flutter of his own emotions. Part of him was appalled that Merlin was doing such pointless little enchantments in Uther's Camelot. Didn't he understand that if he got caught, he would face the pyre? The King would not even hesitate, and yet...

And yet, since the inevitable questions that filled the days following Arthur's discovery of Merlin's magic, he had barely seen any trace of it. Merlin did not mention it unless pressed, and Arthur only ever realised he must have done something to help turn the tide of various disasters in retrospect. He had not witnessed it again, not until today, and that subtle gleam had left him fascinated and breathless.

Now, to see Merlin using it not for the safety of the kingdom or its prince, but because he wanted to tease and play? It eased the knot that had tied itself around Arthur's heart. For the first time he realised that magic wasn't just something Merlin had. It was something he was, and while the power he wielded had the potential to be dangerous, it was more like Merlin himself: mischievous and fond, compassionate and gentle, all in equal measure.

And Arthur loved it.

He loved that this great, terrible thing that his father had warned him of all his life was, in Merlin's hands, nothing to inspire fear. Every time he sensed its touch – a whisper of power and potential bent to his aid – his heart surged in his chest. He wanted to reach out and cradle it almost as much as he longed to stop hiding the affection he felt for Merlin behind playful shoves and the occasional headlock.

As it was, those boundaries had eroded day-by-day since the summer. Even now, his grip on Merlin's nape was more a clasp than anything, and his thumb stroked idly against Merlin's warm skin, half-hypnotised by the feel of him.

With a snatched-in breath, Arthur yanked his hand away, shaking his head as he pulled the key to his chambers from his belt. A nudge between Merlin's shoulder-blades urged him over the threshold ahead of him, and Arthur closed the door in their wake, sealing out the world.

'Magic, Merlin?' he asked once he was certain of their solitude. 'Are you mad? What if someone had seen?'

'They didn't!' Merlin huffed a sigh, folding his arms across his chest and frowning at Arthur. 'Except you, apparently.'

Yes, he had, but it had been a glimpse. Before that, the last time he had witnessed Merlin's eyes flash gold was during the manticore attack. Even then, amid the blood and pain and horror of it all, Arthur had been captivated. Now, his heart fluttered under his ribs, eager for more. He'd had time to come to terms with it, to weigh the risk and place himself firmly on Merlin's side. More than anything, he wanted to be taken in Merlin's confidence – to see him, really see him, magic and all.

Yet Camelot remained a dangerous kingdom for a sorcerer, and it would until the day Arthur took the throne.

'Is it worth risking your life for a prank?'

Merlin rolled his eyes. 'I risk my life just by existing,' he pointed out. 'I'm careful. I'm so careful I'm sick of it, sometimes.' A crooked grin curled his lips as he shrugged. 'Besides, you deserved it for being a prat. You called me a useless servant.'

'You are a useless servant! You stole all my breakfast and then implied I was getting fat.'

'And then you dragged me out in the cold!'

'Which was not a problem for you, as it turns out. You might have looked pathetic, Merlin, but you were perfectly warm thanks to your magic.' He fumbled with the buckle of his pauldron, his fingers clumsy at the awkward angle. Immediately, Merlin stepped forward, his hands moving with calm competence as he manipulated the leather straps holding it in place. In this, at least, he was far from useless, and Arthur found himself staring at his profile as he worked.

'You didn't even need me there,' Merlin continued. 'I could have been here doing chores.'

'You don't do chores,' Arthur protested, his voice soft with a teasing edge as Merlin huffed. 'I'm beginning to think your magic does most of them.' He glanced to where a fire roared in the grate, the flames never dwindling and the log never crumbling to ash. No one else had the key to get in and tend it, yet it burned as strongly as it had when Merlin had stirred its embers that morning.

'Only because no normal person has enough time in a day to keep up with your ridiculous demands.

Despite his squabbling, there was a softness to Merlin's words, as if he were pleased he was the only one who stood a chance of keeping up with Arthur. To be honest, the feeling was mutual. For all that he complained about Merlin's ways, Arthur would not trade them for anything: not even the best, most respectful servant in all of Camelot.

The weight of his pauldron shifted from his shoulder before the burden of his belt and scabbard vanished from around his waist. His chainmail followed, the cool links stealing his breath as they brushed past his face. The lacings on his gambeson unravelled beneath Merlin's deft fingers. It was nothing they had not done a hundred times, but never before had removing his armour felt so loaded with meaning, stripping away the trappings of his role until he was just Arthur again.

No more and no less.

'Are you all right?' Merlin asked, cocking his head and looking at him with a frown on his brow.

Belatedly, he realised he had not protested Merlin's "ridiculous demands" comment. In truth, he didn't have it in him. The answer that he was a prince and could demand whatever he liked perched on the tip of his tongue: a script waiting to be followed.

One where everything Merlin was to him remained unacknowledged.

'Will you show me?' Arthur wet his lips, noticing how Merlin's gaze flickered down to his mouth, his lashes fluttering. 'Your magic, I mean. Properly.'

Merlin's grip tightened at Arthur's collar, clutching at the padded fabric of the gambeson. 'What are you talking about? You've seen it.'

'Not without some gods-cursed calamity bearing down on us.' He reached out, ignoring the tremor in his fingers as he cupped a hand over Merlin's shoulder. 'I won't force you. I just' – He shook his head, wishing he could find the right words to unlock this last door between them – 'I've never looked your magic in the eye, Merlin, and I'd like to.'

For a moment, he thought Merlin would refuse, that he would step back out of Arthur's grasp and the distance would yawn between them once more. He could understand why. Despite everything, Merlin did still fear discovery. Perhaps it was too much to ask that he trust Arthur with this – not just the knowledge of his secret, but the sharing of it.

Yet a moment later, Arthur was reminded of all the times he had wondered if Merlin was the bravest of them all. Whatever his doubts, he pushed them aside, dropping his hands from Arthur's collar and holding his palms in a bowl between them.

A few whispered words ghosted between his lips, but it was his eyes that held Arthur transfixed. There was no passing glint, there and gone again. Merlin's magic glowed, unapologetic, between the dark line of his lashes. It was like a summer evening: rich, heavy gold, full of more wealth than any kingdom could call its own.

Light sparkled around Merlin's fingers and pooled in his palms, coalescing into a shape that stretched and unfurled. Delicate wings spread in the air as stars of power shimmered over the tiny creature's scales.

The dragon was small, no bigger than a new kitten, and though Arthur knew it was a construct of magic, he struggled to believe it. The beast's slim frame moved with a sinuous grace as it clambered out of Merlin's grasp and placed one taloned foot on Arthur's forearm, its claws making him glad of the gambeson's padding as it offered an enquiring chirp.

Perhaps he should have been uneasy, but he thought nothing of it as he braced his muscles, bearing its weight with ease as it scurried up to his shoulder and buried its muzzle in his hair, tickling his ear and making him laugh. It smelled of clean sparks as it clambered around the back of his neck, taking a moment to rummage curiously in his open collar.

He expected it to feel powerful and stately – a creature of magic made briefly real. Instead, all he could sense was Merlin, that teasing playfulness and the curve of his smile: something warm and welcoming that brimmed with affection and made his breath catch in his chest.

Of course a dragon that Merlin created would be like Merlin himself, and he looked at the man in question, arrested by the expression on his face.

It was hope and joy, pleasure and curiosity all at once, as if he had never thought he would see the day that Arthur would be anything but repulsed by magic. Yet how could he shun this? It was part of Merlin, something that became more obvious with each passing moment.

When Arthur reached up and ran his fingers down the dragon's narrow spine, he watched Merlin's lashes drop to half-mast, as if he felt the touch on his own skin. Perhaps he did. The gold in his eyes flared brighter, and the sharp hiss of his indrawn breath ghosted over Arthur's ears.

The dragon heard it too, perking up its head and scurrying across to Arthur's other shoulder before snaking down his arm. Its claws grasped Merlin's fingers as it clambered back into the bowl of his hands, dissolving into a froth of gold as the spell came to an end.

Without thinking, Arthur reached out, lifting Merlin's chin so he could watch the power fade from those eyes. It was not like a snuffed-out candle flame, but a steady ebb, dimming to nothing but a ring around the edge of Merlin's iris before vanishing from sight.

Gods, but he was beautiful. Him and his magic both.

Arthur knew how this should go. As prince, he should step back, pat Merlin's shoulder or cuff a hand through his hair – say something dismissive and hope Merlin could read the gratitude underneath, but he could not bring himself to follow that well-worn path. Not anymore. Not after Merlin had put so much on display without ever saying a word.

Carefully, he shifted forward, pressing into Merlin's space until they were toe-to-toe. This close, he could feel the soft whisper of heat coming from Merlin's body, and his voice threatened to shatter on a gasp as he spoke. 'Thank you.'

Merlin's hands twitched where they had fallen back to his side, one lifting to rest against Arthur's chest. For an instant, he thought he would push him away, but instead he pressed his lips together, his eyes agleam with a wealth of emotion that Arthur did not dare to try and name.

'You're not...' Merlin shrugged, giving his head a small shake. 'Scared? Angry?'

He expected rejection. The realisation hit Arthur like a sword blow, and he wondered what it must feel like to be capable of something so beautiful and still be met with fear and revulsion. Once, he would have been among those fools, recoiling from the power Merlin could wield, but those days were long gone. Now, nothing could be further from the truth.

'Merlin, your magic is – it's amazing.' He blinked, trying to put the pressure of sentiment at the base of his throat into words. 'It's what I always hoped magic would be, despite my father's teachings to the contrary: strong and loyal and good, right to its core. Rather like you.'

It was as if some great weight lifted from Merlin's shoulders, and Arthur's heart ached as he realised he had never known Merlin spared of that burden: not until today. His secret may have been necessary, but it was a shackle, and every time he held himself back or used his gift unrewarded, it was another link in the chains that bound him. Now, with the simple act of asking to see it and not shying away, Arthur had handed Merlin the key. He had set him free.

Merlin sagged forward, his elbow bending as Arthur closed the last distance, slipping one arm around Merlin's waist. His brow rested against Merlin's, their noses almost touching, and yet neither one of them moved. Instead, they simply stood there, existing in each other's space as if they needed nothing more to sustain them.

It must be exhausting, Arthur thought, denying such a huge part of yourself day in and day out for years, decades... a lifetime. It must have been miserable, seeking acceptance and finding only rejection again and again. Arthur chastised himself for not having asked to see Merlin's magic sooner. He had not known how much of himself Merlin held back, and now he could feel the change like a shifting breeze dancing on the air.

It was like something stepping out of the shadows, revealing facets of magic that Arthur had never imagined: powerful, vivid, and all-encompassing. It swelled to fill the room from floor to ceiling, an invisible presence rife with possibility.

And at the heart of all that potential stood Merlin, his eyes dark and his lips parted as they shared each hitching, stumbling breath... so very close, and yet still not close enough.

Arthur could not say which of them moved first, only that the last, fractional distance vanished as their lips met. It was not the desperate, biting thing he had sometimes imagined when lying alone in his bed at night. Instead, there was something tremulous to it, a question and a promise, as if Merlin both ached for an answer and feared Arthur's response.

As if he could ever turn this aside when it was all he had wanted for more months than he cared to count.

Tightening his arm around Merlin's waist, he slid his other palm up Merlin's back, over the aborted wings of his shoulder-blades to trail into his hair, guiding his head and changing the angle. Merlin's moan shivered between them, and Arthur pursued the sound, eager to hear more. Desire's sparks were quickly building into a fire, racing down his thighs and coiling between his legs. The tease of Merlin's tongue against his own made him whine, and he eased away with a small, broken noise, smiling as Merlin chased him to steal another kiss.

It was tempting to fall into bed with Merlin wrapped in his arms. He longed to take and seek pleasure in kind, to lose himself in the heat and hardness of Merlin's body, but there was more to all this than a quick tumble. Besides, some part of Arthur wanted to take his time, to cherish Merlin and his magic both. He deserved no less than that.

'All right?' he whispered, needing one final confirmation. He could read the want and affection staining Merlin's cheeks with its flush and darkening his eyes. He could feel it where Merlin pressed against him, teasing friction and deep temptation, but he still needed to hear it for himself.

'Yeah,' Merlin breathed, sounding as if he couldn't quite believe this was where they had ended up. The curl of the smile on his lips bloomed into a grin, one hand heavy on Arthur's waist while the other stayed locked into a fist in Arthur's gambeson, as if he were afraid he would fade to nothing but mist if he did not hold on. 'Better than all right.'

Arthur grinned, leaning forward to claim another kiss. He felt his heart settle into a new, steady rhythm, as if finding the one place in the world where it fit perfectly. There would be time, later, for whispered words and quiet promises. There would be nights where they barely slept, too busy loving each other to bother with the notion of dreaming, but for now there was only this: Merlin warm in his arms, and the promise of all they could be blooming between them.

Whatever the future held, magic would thrive, and so would they.

#Merlin #Merthur #My Fanfic

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hayanwulf · 3 months ago

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Getting together fic wherein Stephen has a particularly bad hand pain day, and he struggles to hide it from a concerned Tony. Tony offers to give him some painkillers and massage Stephen's hands, and the touch starved, miserable sorcerer accepts. Tony massages his hands until the pills kick in, and then some just because, and eventually Stephen kisses him about it

Word count got completely out of hand. I regret nothing.

Stephen had woken up to throbbing pain in his hands, then had to deal with a manticore accidentally summoned by some idiots trying to summon ‘the devil’, then had to go to the fucking North Pole to close a dimensional rift there, and when he’d finally returned to the Sanctum, it was raining.

Overall, today was a fantastic day.

The Cloak had wandered off to somewhere shortly after their return from the North Pole. So now he sat alone and miserably in his study, grunting under his breath, hands half-buried under the bottom end of the MIT hoodie he was wearing. It was Tony’s hoodie — he’d had the privilege of getting to wear it for the first time only yesterday, and had instantly stolen it — and that was the only semblance of comfort he had right now.

His phone pinged and the screen lit up with a new notification. It was a message from Tony.

Would you like some carbonara?

No.. as nice as it would be to have lunch with Tony, Stephen’s hands wouldn’t even be able to handle the fork, let alone pick up some spaghetti without dropping it all over.

He would only make a fool of himself in front of Tony.

He picked up his phone with a very shaky hand, painstakingly unlocked the screen, and then spent the next few minutes just trying to type out two words without messing up. At times like these, he thought that he should really have accepted Tony’s offer for a better, more accessible, voice-command phone.

But.. but that would be admitting that he couldn’t even do simple, normal, everyday tasks by himself.

No. Stephen was more than capable of doing completely normal tasks all by himself.

He did not need anyone’s help, much less their pity.

After much grueling effort, he had finally typed out the words in his phone. He tapped the send button.

not hungry

His text was was almost immediately marked as read. Tony didn’t send another reply, though.

He realized, a little belatedly, that he probably looked like an asshole. Tony had been trying to invite him to lunch, and he’d outright rejected.

Tony’s typing bubble appeared after a few moments, drawing Stephen’s attention. It disappeared and reappeared a couple of times. But it didn’t take Tony long to send a text.

I’ll bring some over anyway, maybe Wong would like some. I made it, btw. Was proving a point to Capsicle. There’s plenty of leftover.

Oh. Tony had made it himself.

He had wanted to invite Stephen to lunch that he had made himself.

Well. Stephen positively looked like an asshole.

He flopped his head down on his desk, groaning lightly at his own stupidity. He was an utter and complete failure of a partner.

This day just kept getting better.

He turned his head where it rested on the desk to stare out through the window.

There was a time when he used to love the rain. Rain was comfort and calmness. The sound of raindrops hitting the earth was soothing, it made the soil’s scent pleasant, it lowered the temperature to an enjoyable level that made you want to sit near a large window with a book in your lap, a hot cup of aromatic tea on the table in front of you, and just enjoy the weather. What was there to not like about rain?

Now.. now Stephen loathed rain.

The drop in atmospheric pressure was never kind to his hands. It pulled and strained his joints and muscles, until they would scream in pain.

As it stood, that was exactly what the rain was doing to his hands right now.

It had only been a few minutes when the Sanctum notified him of Tony landing on the porch. Quickly getting up from the desk, he changed out of Tony’s hoodie with a quick motion of his hand, changing into his sorcerer robes.

When Tony was in through the door, he reached for the Sanctum’s energy and teleported the genius into his study, who took a second to rebalance himself upon blinking into existence in front of Stephen.

“Ugh, really freaky,” Tony said, shaking his head a little to dispel the momentary disorientation. “You do know that I’m capable of just walking over to you myself, like a normal human being?”

“You’ll live,” Stephen said, reaching for some books lying on his desk to collect them, hopefully making it look like he had been studying and not miserably lamenting over his hands. “And Wong is not on Earth today.” He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from grunting as a particularly sharp sting of pain shot up his right hand when he held three books in a stack.

“Oh, is that so.” Tony looked down rather somberly at the bag on his hand, then huffed. “Well, he’ll miss out on the best carbonara ever.”

Stephen looked down at the stack of books in his hands for a moment, then looked up at Tony. “Have you eaten yet?”

Tony shrugged. “Not really.”

“Have you brought enough for two people?”

Tony eyed him curiously. “I’ve brought enough for three people.”

For Tony, he could do this much, right? “Let me put these books back, and then we can eat together?”

Tony smiled, eyes sparkling with delight. “Let’s do that.”

Few minutes later, they in the kitchen.

Tony gleefully served the spaghetti into two plates, setting one down in front of Stephen, and sat down next to him with his own serving.

Stephen stared down at it. God, it smelled heavenly. He had no doubt that it would taste just as amazing. But..

The cursed fork.

Stephen quietly sighed, able to feel Tony’s expectant gaze on him. Well, he’d chosen this.

Tentatively, he picked up the fork with a shaky hand. His grip was shit, and trying to tighten it around the metallic handle made his muscles spasm. With whatever shaky grip he managed, he dug the fork into the spaghetti to try and lift some, that was when he heard Tony curse under his breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t even think of that,” Tony said, getting up. He reached to take the fork off of Stephen’s hand.

“Stop,” Stephen told him firmly, and Tony stilled. “Don’t. I can use a fork just fine, Tony.”

Tony was quiet for a moment. “You don’t have to. We can order something else.”

“No. You made this.”

“Yeah but that was just to prove Capsicle that I do, in fact, know how to cook food and can do it really well. We don’t have to eat this, let’s—”

“I want to,” Stephen insisted, cutting Tony off. “I want to taste the food you’ve prepared with your own hands.”

Tony’s expression was a conflicting mix of concern and warmth. “Alright..” He sat down.

And Stephen wasn’t lying. He really did want to taste food of Tony’s hands. It wasn’t just for Tony’s happiness, though that did make it all the more worth it.

If he had to sit through a bit of pain and struggle for that, so be it.

He tried again, stabbing the fork into the spaghetti, and lifted up a small amount. His hands shook, and some strands of the pasta fell back into his plate. He still managed to put some into his mouth.

Goodness, it was so much better than he’d thought. He let out a low appreciative hum as he chewed it.

“This is.. amazing, Tony,” he told Tony, who preened with a wide grin on his face.

“Of course it is. I made it, after all,” Tony crowed, stuffing his mouth with some spaghetti.

Stephen rolled his eyes and dug his fork into his plate again.

His enjoyment died down rather quickly, as his hand spasmed more with each time he tried to scoop up some spaghetti. It got harder to not drop the strands, or even keep holding on to the fork. Tony must have noticed, he thought, but was choosing not to speak on it.

Stephen preferred it that way.

There was simply no need to make a big issue out of this.

“Here,” Tony said only moments after that, making Stephen turn towards him. The genius was holding his forkful of spaghetti extended towards Stephen.

“What?” Stephen asked.

“Let me feed you,” Tony explained, raising his fork closer to Stephen in emphasis.

Stephen gave him an affronted look. “What? No! I’m not a child.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You’re a grown ass man who doesn’t know how to ask for help. Yes, I know. That’s why I’m giving it.”

“Tony, I can eat by myself.”

Tony sighed. “Just let me do it, alright? Just like you wanted to eat my dish, I want to do this. It’s an act of service. I like doing it. Lemme do it.”

Douchebag. Using Stephen’s reasoning against him.

Stephen looked down at the fork in his shaking hands, then up at the fork being offered to him by Tony’s firm, steady hand. He sighed and dropped his fork back on his plate.

Tony gave a small, warm smile when Stephen ate from his hand.

“It wouldn’t kill you to ask for help every now and then, y’know,” Tony murmured in a low, gentle voice.

It certainly would kill Stephen’s pride, if not him, to ever ask for help from anyone in this plane of existence.

“You’ll live, I promise,” Tony added rather dryly; whether to his previous statement or if he read Stephen’s mind, Stephen wasn’t sure.

Even now, Stephen thought, he should feel embarrassed for needing help with something so trivial as eating. But..

But he didn’t.

The way Tony fed Stephen and himself with the same fork, eyes so warm and with a brilliance that could make the sun appear dull, the way he genuinely enjoyed servicing Stephen, thoughtful and patient with his action of feeding him.. Stephen didn’t feel like he was being looked down on. He didn’t feel pitied, he didn’t feel disabled.

He simply felt loved.

They ate in relative silence, save for Tony’s occasional rants on something or the other. Stephen was content to just listen and enjoy the closeness.

When they were done, Tony picked up the dishes and moved to the sink to wash them.

“Do you have painkillers?” The genius asked as he placed the clean dishes on the drying rack, and it really shouldn’t have surprised Stephen. Of course Tony had picked up that his discomfort was more than just not being able to hold a fork.

“In my room, yes,” Stephen replied. “But that won’t be needed.”

Tony tiredly rubbed his fingers over his eyes, then gave Stephen a deadpan expression that spoke ‘I’m not taking your bullshit today’.

“Really, it’s fine,” Stephen insisted.

A minute later, they were in Stephen’s room.

Tony made him sit down on the bed, handed him a pill of Naproxen, all the while grumbling under his breath something about ‘stubborn wizards’. Stephen popped the pill into his mouth, and Tony helped him gulp down a glassful of water before setting the empty glass away.

“Does it help to massage your hands?” Tony asked.

Stephen hesitated. He knew what question would follow that one.

But.. but perhaps a part of him wanted to be asked that.

“It does.”

Tony gave him a curious look, eyes open and almost pleading. “Would you let me..?”

Stephen bit the corner of his lip. He looked at the window that showed it to still be raining outside, then down at the hands on his lap, then back up at Tony.

“..Yes.”

Tony’s eyes eased into an invisible smile. He went around the bed, climbed from the other side, and settled himself at center of the large bed, back leaned against the headboard. He coaxed Stephen closer to him, who followed and leaned himself partly against the headboard, partly on Tony, and gave up his hands to Tony’s care.

Tony frowned at Stephen’s robes in distaste. “Are you seriously gonna wear that in bed too?”

Stephen huffed out a breath. He hadn’t exactly given it a lot of thought when Tony had landed in front of the Sanctum; he’d just wanted to hide Tony’s hoodie away.

With a quick motion, he changed into his own comfortable clothes — no, not Tony’s, he would not let Tony claim his MIT hoodie back anytime soon — and then relinquished his hand back in Tony’s hold. “There, happy?”

“Very fucking much. I don’t get how you can put up with wearing that 27 hours a day.”

Tony began to massage his hands. He was so gentle and careful with them, applying the lightest of pressure, massaging from the wrists slowly down to each finger. The touch of his warm fingers on Stephen’s cold ones felt soothing. In between the massage, Tony’s touches, at times, softly traced over the scars. But they never once felt intrusive. They felt like the delicate caress of a flower against a butterfly’s wing, harmless and gentle and so, so careful.

It was nice. It was safety and care and love. The pain was slowly forgotten, and Stephen’s mind was slowly lulled into a state of peace and comfort.

A moderately loud thunder crackled, and Stephen looked at the window to find it was absolutely pouring outside. The temperature had also fallen further by a few degrees. Sitting pressed against Tony and sharing their body heat, the temperature didn’t bother Stephen, nor his hands with how tenderly they were being cared for.

There was no book here, no tea, no large window to watch the rain outside. But, Stephen thought, that this weather was actually rather enjoyable.

Stephen never allowed anyone to touch his hands in such a way, or, hell, touch his hands at all. It was asking for too much trust, too much vulnerability on his side.

But with Tony.. Tony made it easy to lend him the trust, to share this vulnerability. It was so easy to let down his walls, allow this genius man in, and let him carve out a corner for himself in Stephen’s heart.

Vishanti, he was in love with this man, mind, soul, and body.

“How do you feel now?” Tony asked, looking up at Stephen with those brown, beautiful, expressive eyes.

Stephen simply leaned in, capturing his lips in a loving kiss. A sound of surprise escaped Tony’s lips, that turned into a delighted laugh as he reciprocated the kiss. Stephen channeled all of his affection, savoring Tony’s lips, hoping it communicated the sheer love he felt towards the genius.

When they parted, Stephen continued to pepper his jaw with more kisses. “Thank you, Tony,” he said as they leaned their foreheads together.

“Anyday for my Sweetcakes,” Tony said, and Stephen didn’t have to open his eyes to read the content smile on Tony’s face. His voice was more than enough.

#ironstrange #tony stark #stephen strange #fluff #domestic fluff #comfort #tooth rotting fluff #fic #mcu fanfiction #hayans tumblr shorts

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