#anyway i found a track to listen to while i wrote this and that's probably why it's so long

[shyvioletcat]

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 23

~ Domestic Fluff ~

Ahh, so as I wrote the prompt for today I think I may have slightly misunderstood the assignment, haha... Anyway. This works as a Part 2 to this fic I wrote a little while ago. Probably not my best work, but hey, it is what it is.

~~~~~

Rowan flew high above the palace, the brisk winds off the Staghorn’s helping him soar. When he had finished training with the palace guards the simplest way back to the royal wing was to simply walk through the grounds. But he hadn’t felt like it, he had woken up too late this morning to take a flight before his day started so this would have to do. He flew in easy circles, starting high and drifting lower and lower with each circular pass. Looking down his hawk eyes spied movement in a courtyard where the children of the court were playing in the sun. 

He longed to let out a screech of delight, but then Rowan had a better idea. Down he circled, waiting for the right current to send him on his way. The wind shifted, brushing past his wings and ruffling his feathers. It was exactly what he needed. 

Tucking in his wings close to his body Rowan was diving down like he was hunting, aiming for the kill. The children were so caught up in their own game that they didn’t notice him coming until there was a bright flash of light, making them squeal and yell in surprise. Elspeth recovered the quickest, her laughter filling the courtyard and she ran for him. Rowan caught her, spinning her through the air, up and down like she was a bird too. 

The little princess loved every moment of it with her arms outstretched like wings. Elspeth was nearly two and was yet to shift, that was if she even could. Rowan suspected she would, although there was always a slim chance that a fae child would be born without the ability to shift especially when there was demi-fae in the bloodline. 

He hoped that she would, and that she might take on the form of a bird of prey like his family did. That was an experience he wanted to share with his child. Rowan would teach her to read the winds, how to angle her body to safely move through the sky. That was a dream he’d hold onto until it was decided otherwise. 

Rowan set the toddler down, making sure she was steady as she started walking. 

“That fun, Da!” she said as she held onto him, evidently not wanting to let go yet. “I was flying. Just like you.”

“You were, my little love.” Rowan couldn’t help it, he dropped into a crouch and kissed her chubby cheek. That set off another round of giggles, then she turned to hug him. Feeling another gaze on him, Rowan looked up and saw his mate watching from one of the windows above them. There was a soft smile on her face as she watched it all unfold. “Go, and play Elsie.”

His daughter listened and wandered off to watch the game some of the older children were playing. Rowan shifted again, flying low so Elspeth could chase him before he flew higher to find an open window. There was someone else that he wanted to see.

Aelin was still watching from the windowed alcove, now tracking his movements. He’d find somewhere closer to his mate to enter the palace. Rowan spotted a window that was open just wide enough for him to slip through. Not as close to Aelin as he would have liked, but it would have to do. After the smile had faded he had seen an odd look on her face and he was determined to discover what it had meant.  

~~~~~

Aelin watched as Rowan no doubt looked for an entry to come see her. Another male might have used the stairs, but her mate wasn’t like other males. He was impatient and had a flair for dramatics, aptly demonstrated by his little performance in the courtyard. Aelin knew he had spent the morning training with the guards and again, he could have walked back to the private residences of the palace. Instead he’d flown above the city and found his landing spot, much to the delight of their daughter. 

The sounds of children playing had drawn Aelin out of her study and the noise was distracting enough that the papers she had been going over lost all appeal. Seeing her daughter down there, playing with her friends, brought her more joy than expected. She had memories of the court children playing while she watched when as a child. Aelin had felt a profound loneliness and isolation, a heavy weight for a little girl. It was not just her title of crown princess that had set her apart—her powers had been too volatile. It had made her dangerous and the other children had feared her for it. 

Aelin lit a small flame in her hand, watching the yellows and oranges dance and weave. Her power was not what it once was, but she was still impossibly strong. Considering her parentage there was a high chance her daughter would be the same.

A squeal shook her from her sombre thoughts. Aelin watched as Rowan held Elspeth out in front of him as they spun. The pure joy on both their faces had Aelin letting out a breathy laugh. Gods, the way her mate adored their daughter, it was making her fall in love with him all over again. It was no surprise that Aelin had fallen pregnant not even two years after the birth of their first. She rested a hand on her stomach as the child in her womb kicked. The movement only started happening a week or so ago and Aelin had forgotten how much she had missed those gentle reassurances. 

As a child Aelin had sat in this very spot, watching the children play and burning with jealousy. To soothe herself she had absorbed herself in books, letting those characters be her friends instead. It was not the healthiest way to cope, it was unfortunate that little Aelin hadn’t many choices. 

Rowan looked up, spying her up in the window. He set Elspeth on her way and then shifted again. Now Aelin just waited, knowing what would happen next, her ever observant mate had probably noticed the shift in her mood. It wasn’t too long before she heard footsteps coming from behind and then strong arms were wrapped around her. She lent into Rowan’s body, more than content to be held by him.

“What are you thinking about, Fireheart?” He asked, never one to skirt around the point. “I saw you watching and then I saw something in your expression.”

“Oh that,” Aelin said. “I was just remembering what it was like for me as a child, and how different Elsie’s life will be.”

“About how lonely you were?”

Aelin looked up and saw the concern on Rowan’s face. “Yes.”

“Aelin—’’

She shook her head, patting the arm that was braced around her to reassure Rowan that she was fine. “It is what it was, Rowan. Nothing to do about it now except to make sure our past is not repeated.” 

“Elspeth will have a blessed life, they all will,” Rowan said, placing his hand where hers rested on her stomach.

Watching the children Aelin knew her own would not share in the isolation she had experienced. All they had sacrificed for a better world had come to fruition. If their children had earth shattering powers, they would have everything that they needed right here to support them. Never again would Aelin have those she loved hide or diminish what they were. Her parents did the best that they could and if evil had not been so determined to destroy all that was good Aelin had no doubt they would have done everything they could to make her life wonderful. Aelin could never begrudge them over the future that should have been. Fate had been cruel to Rhoe and Evalin Galathynius, all Aelin could do now is honour their memory. 

“I remember my father found me here once,” Aelin said. “I told him that my dearest friends were characters from my books. There was one, about a princess and a dragon, if I recall. I wondered what it might be like to fly, he said I should ask a dragon.”

Rowan laughed softly.

The almost forgotten memory made her smile. “Preposterous I know, because dragons don’t exist, and I told him as much. I then told him one day I’d ask a bird.” Aelin looked up at her mate. “I suppose you’re the closest I’ll get. What does it feel like to fly, Rowan?”

“It feels… amazing,” Rowan said, a thumb grazing over Aelin’s cheek. “Thrilling and terrifying at the same time. But the way the wind lifts you and all that you can see of the world, it makes me feel free.”

Aelin looked back to the courtyard at where her daughter played, where the future she never thought she’d have was right in front of her. Aedion came to collect his son and Elide was doing the same, while Fenrys tended to the young princess. It was nearing supper time and they’d all gather in the dining hall soon and eat and talk and laugh. 

Her dearest friends were no longer words on a page, they lived and breathed, enriching Aelin’s life more than she had ever dared to imagine all those years ago. It had already been ten years of peace and Aelin knew in her heart that this hard won tranquillity would last for many, many years to come. She would fight for it until she had nothing left to give. 

“Fireheart,” Rowan said softly, worry edging his tone. 

“I’m thinking too much,” Aelin shook her head, trying to shrug off the heavy mood that had fallen over her. She knew the remedy for it, and she appeared at the end of the hallway now.

“Mama!”

Fenrys put his charge down and Elspeth ran for her mother and father. It was Rowan that caught her, bringing Elspeth high enough that Aelin could kiss her cheeks. Being in the presence of her family was enough to dismiss the shadows of the past. It reminded her of the future she had the blessing to live, and of those she had the honour to share it with.

~~~~

Thank you for reading and yep... still no tag list

@rowaelinscourt

[noaltbruh]

hey! hope you’re doing well 💕 this is actually my second time requesting for you (my first one was from last year and it was headcanons of abbacchio and fugo reacting to the fem! reader who’s intimidated by them. if you don’t remember, that’s fine LOL i only remembered since your blog looked so familiar for some reason), so i’m back again 😂😌 anyways, i was just scrolling through twitter and i found out that one of my favorite k-pop girl groups, blackpink, will be having a concert in my city in a couple of months and i got so excited i almost screamed (actually didn’t since my dad is currently asleep HAHA), so i was wondering if i could get some headcanons of the bucci gang reacting to the gn! reader getting excited over their favorite artist/group coming to naples for a concert (and also worrying about whether or not they can actually attend, worrying that something unexpected like a mission might happen)? hehe, tysm!!

Ohh hi there, my friend! Yes! Of course I remember you, I had a blast with your first request, it was one of the first things I wrote during Summer time and it was so fun 😊

Ah! I've heard of that group before, though I've never listened to them myself, this was a really cute ask, thanks for stopping by again :)

Bucci gang taking S/O to a concert 🎶

Giorno 🐞

Ok, first of all, there's a high chance Giorno already knew about the group coming to town before you did lol.

I feel like he'd keep track of your favorite singer/band's tours and activities, since he can tell you'll probably want to attend their concerts too, understandably.

When he found out, however, that the group was straight up coming to Napoli, he hesitated a bit. It is quite the dangerous city, after all. He was hoping maybe they'd sing in a nearby town and you could attend safely, but alas that wasn't a chance.

Because of this, he had to sit down a moment and consider whether or not you should have gone or not. He knows that telling you not to would have hurt you a lot, but it was for your own well being and he'd blame himself if something were to happen to you.

Thus, after a while, he decided that he would have accompanied you to the concert himself and would have brought a couple of guards along too. A bit overbearing, I know, but he absolutely wants to make sure that nothing bad happens to you.

Imagine the scene: you're coming to scream and yell at him about these news, when he pulls out two fresh front row tickets just for you.

And I can only guess that the yelling gets even more intense after this. It gets quite a laughter out of him too.

If you thanked him for those, he'll just give you a lil' kiss, telling you that it's not much and that you can think of it as a little apology for all the times he's too busy with work to spend time with you.

"It's been a while since we've spent an evening together just the two of us, it'll be fun, non credi, tesoro?"

Okay, he probably takes this way too seriously and dresses up like he's going to attend a gala or something. Giorno's never been to a concert in his life, but he's doing his best.

He won't be letting you go even for a moment. He claims that it's because he doesn't want you to get away from him and get lost, or even worse, hurt. And while it's true to an extent, it's partially just an excuse to hold you as much as he can.

He most likely listened to and memorized a couple of songs ahead, so that he's familiar with what he's going to listen to, but he won't sing along in any case.

He may find the excessive noise and the amount of people a bit overbearing, but he won't let you notice and will try to distract himself looking at how excited you are. It makes him happy too.

He got you a special pass so that you'll get the chance to meet your idols in person and get an autograph from them. Don't ask how, he...He just did.

Bruno 🤐

Okay, Bruno is most likely used to your " slightly over the top" reactions...But I suppose you can only imagine his surprise when he suddenly heard you scream from the room nearby-

He immediately rushed to see what was going on, with Sticky Fingers ready to be put in actions at any moment.

So, when he found out that it was just some news about a concert, he took a huge sigh of relief and probably asked you not to ever do that again, unless you want to give him a heart attack.

Needless to say, Bucciarati is not exactly very keen for you to attend the event, and he'll be telling you immediately, not wanting you to get over hyped over it and end up getting disappointed.

He'll try to explain as calmly as possible why he thinks it's dangerous. He doesn't mean to limit you nor your freedom, but when you're tied to the mafia, some things just aren't the same as for normal people.

Seeing your disappointed expression, however, he'll instantly start to regret his decision and blame himself for making you sad. Me might suggest the two of you go somewhere else that evening instead, as a way to cheer you up.

When that doesn't work out, it'll be your turn to persuade and beg him to let you go, gotta insist when he's the most vulnerable.

And so, with some stubbornness, the man ultimately accepts. Of course, you won't be going alone, he'll make sure he doesn't have any important duties to attend to that night, so that he can safely escort you himself.

And once you do get him to satisfy your request, a part of Bruno is almost kind of happy you managed to change his mind. After all, his responsibilities often keep him away, so he's more than glad to be able to take a break and enjoy a night off with you.

"Sigh...Alright cara, if this truly matters so much to you, I suppose I can make an exception this time, ma non ti ci abituare troppo, mh?"

Just like Giorno, he gets front seats for the both of you. He loves to spoil you whenever he gets the chance to, although he kind of wished you didn't yell in his ears after seeing them again-

He probably dresses up even more formally than his friend- he barely knows what a concert is, cut him some slack.

He knows the songs they're going to play simply because he heard them from you. He's a bit confused since he doesn't understand how you can like a band that doesn't even sing in a language you know-

But he gets in the mood pretty fast and actually finds himself vibing to the music it's than he had thought at first.

He thinks you're adorable getting all excited as soon as they start singing. He might even film your best reactions as a way to keep a memory of the evening you spent together.

Mista 🔫

Buddy when Mista first heard you scream, he just screamed along because yes. He's used to people yelling and knew it was a shout of excitement and not fear or a call for help.

Once you're done screeching, he just laughs and asks you what was all that noise about. And when he hears the reason, he starts laughing more lol.

Don't get me wrong, he loves concerts and music, he just loves to mock you considering your favorite group is a k-pop band.

After you tell him to knock it out or straight up slap him, it's up to you, he tells you that, of course, he will be coming with you. He's not missing out on a concert in his town, and most of all, he's not missing out on a night out with you.

Yes, the music is not exactly his ideal first choice, but whatever, anything is tolerable as long as it's not classic.

Honestly, the idea of an unexpected mission possibly ruining your night only goes through his head once you're about to buy the tickets. It goes something like:

"Hol' up, what if some stand user tries to kill us while we're there? ...Eh, ma chi cazzo se ne frega, I've got a gun" purchase.

For the event, he most likely wore his usual outfit and just slammed a jacket on it.

Once you actually get to the concert, dude basically feels at home. He loves crowded places and music, what else could he asks for?

He's got no clue of what the heck they're saying while singing, but he has heard you jamming and listening to their songs on full volumes in the past, so he knows how the rhythm goes.

It's quite the funny scenario: you perfectly singing along to the lyrics, while Mista just makes a bunch of weird noises, hyping you up with and arm wrapped around your shoulders.

The little pistols will be dancing on top of your head during the whole thing, while number five just covers his non existent ears with his hands.

Either way, the two of you had a blast, but he will still be making fun of k-pop music just to piss you off lmao.

Narancia 🍊

Another boy one who's able to know about the concert even before you do. It was an accident, honestly, Narancia just loves music in all its forms and keeps up with all kind of genres, even the ones he's not really into.

Moreover, even if it's not exactly what he usually likes, he just made himself listen to all the songs from your favorite bands and artists, because even if they aren't his style, the remind him of you and it's enough for him to love all of them.

Which means that IN THE EXACT moment the news about the tour are out, he finds out about them, not wasting a single moment.

And with that exact same speed, he obviously runs to warn you. That way, the two of you can get hyped and excited together! He loves when you get so happy about something you love, it makes him full of beans too.

You immediately rush to buy the best possible tickets you can find, you can't wait even a second, or someone might get to them before you do, and he's not gonna let anyone take them away from you when you're so joyful.

Kind of obvious by now, but the idea of something going wrong due to a mission or an enemy stand never even reaches him, all he can think about is having a great time with his great girlfriend.

"Hell yeah! We're gonna have a blast at that concert, you can count on it! Uh? Of course I love their songs! Potrei mai non amare qualcosa che ami tu, tesoruccio?"

He attends concerts very often, and he doesn't hesitate to leave the town to go to one of them if he particularly likes the singer or band. He can't wait to share one of his biggest passions with you :)

While it embarrasses him a bit, if you want to wear matching clothes related to whoever is going to perform, he'll be down for it with little to no persuasion a lot. If you wish to do it, he'll do it too, anything to make you smile.

Get ready, because he'll be bringing along a lot of snacks for the whole night too. Are they allowed? The answer doesn't matter, since he's gonna take them with him regardless.

While it may surprise you a bit, Narancia actually sings along pretty well to almost all the songs with you too. He's just listened to them so many times thinking about you, they got stuck in his brain, despite having no clue of what they're actually saying.

To be honest, he's actually been blasting them in his earphones even more once he found out about the event, just for a chance to impress you a bit and have even more fun.

And while he may not have thought about it before, if, hypothetically, someone were to brother the two of you while you're enjoying the music, he's got his dagger and Aerosmith to keep you safe.

Fugo 🍓

Fugo canonically listens to K-pop. Trust me bro, Araki told me in a dream.

No matter how much you push him, or how obvious he is: he will never admit he likes this kind of music. Never. No, he doesn't care if you won't tell anyone, he doesn't care if you love it you, he's got a minimum dignity he CAN'T waste away.

As a result, while he had heard that the band might be coming to town, he decided to ignore the news until he heard you scream.

And, as a result, he screamed back at you not to ever do that again, and that if you ever do, Purple Haze will just go batshit crazy and may accidentally murder whoever is in the house.

Once, much to his dismay, you ask him to go together, he categorically declines your offer. It does pain him to do so, but he has his reasons not to accept.

Social gatherings like concerts do make him quite nervous, and he can't calm his nerves at the thought of an enemy hurting you during the performance.

He's among the hardest to persuade into changing his mind, but you're confident you can do it, as despite how much he denies it, it is pretty blatant that he'd love to go as much as you.

Maybe let him cool down a bit and then ask him again, it might be easier to get to him in this taste.

"Cucciola...Please, try to understand where I'm coming from, we may...Urgh, you really won't bite, won't you? ...Alright, Spero solo tu sia cosciente delle possibili consequenze, fragolina"

He stays right next to your side while you buy the tickets, claiming that it's because he doesn't want you to somehow mess this up, but it's actually because he wants to feel the joy of acquiring them too.

He WILL complain a lot about going and say he's only accompanying you in order to keep you safe. God he's such a terrible liar you can't even bring yourself to call him out.

Despite the fact that he's a deadly Mafioso who has killed an enormous amount of people with his deadly poison, he's scared to attend the concert.

The thought of being surrounded by all those people and the music blasting so incredibly loud in his ears makes him feel incredibly sick. You can clearly see how nervous he is when you actually go there, you can't help but feel kind of bad for him.

Just hold his hand tight and tell him that everything is fine. Soon enough, your touch and the sound of the music he secretly loves will do the trick. Seeing him finally cracking a smile during the exhibition makes you even happier.

He'll have to stop himself from singing along with everyone else, but if you're careful, you may notice him humming some of his favorite songs very quietly. Don't say anything about it though, because he'll get embarrassed and immediately stop.

Abbacchio ⏮️

Have you seen this man? Look at me in the eyes and tell him you genuinely believe he'll willingly take you to a concert, if you asked him to.

To he honest, if you didn't tell since your father was sleeping, you might as well contain your screaming right now too, because he know he will get pissed off if you just started screeching without a good reason.

So just show him the news about the concert and prepare yourself for a single, stern, blatant and disappointing "no" as an answer, while he goes back to whatever he was doing before.

To be completely frank, at first he didn't reply this way because he was scared of an enemy, but because he straight up does not want to go. His introvert ass despises concerts.

And when the possibility of a threats pops into his mind, it'll just give him even more of a valid reason not to accept.

He doesn't get why you'd even want to attend, when you can just listen to their music for free whenever you want.

Just like Fugo, there's no point in insuring at first, just leave him alone or change the subject, put him in a good mood, if you can.

And once you think you might have a chance, ask him again. If you're good enough at persuading, he may consider giving you his approval, but only if you do something in exchange for him too...

...Which is probably just finding a way to keep the others away from him for a whole so he can rest his head a little lol.

He was just planning on telling you to go alone and do whatever you wanted, but then he remembered that you could have been in severe danger if you went on your own...

And so, after some reflection and a long sigh, he agreed to accompany you. He'll never openly say it, but a small, small part of him is happy he can at least go on a date with his partner...Even if it's in a huge, crowded and loud place.

"God, mi farai uscire di testa one day. Fine...But I'm only doing this because I''ll be damned if you die for something so stupid"

He probably reconsiders his decision two hours before the concert, but sadly, he knows that it's far too late to retreat now.

Low-key dresses up like he's about to attend a funeral or something, but you don't question his decisions because, delicate being anticlimactic, he looks hot either way.

He secretly borrowed a gun from Mista for extra precautions and will bring it with him just in case, but you won't know about it.

Somehow, the guards did not notice either, but they would have probably been too intimidated to say anything in any case.

He's just getting dragged by you to your places without saying a word, or grunting lightly at best.

Even so, despite his apparent annoyance, when the band starts singing and you're too busy paying attention to them to notice him, he may actually unconsciously smile while looking at you.

Your enthusiasm is very contagious to him, after all, and it helps distract from the immense amount of people around him.

Just...Please, choose something a bit quieter for your date, next time ^^"

Trish 🎙

Trish loves music, doesn't mind crowds too much and isn't very strict, so she won't have anything to say about you going.

...That's what I would say, if she wasn't a jealous girl.

Just a lil' friendly reminder that this girl is working to become, and partially already is, a singer. But she doesn't have a problem with other music artists themselves.

She has a problem with YOU wanting to attend their concert. Why? Why is this so important to you? Do you like their music more than you like hers? Mh? Is that it?

As a result, once your screams reach her, she isn't particularly annoyed, she's used to be around people yelling for literally no reason and she doesn't even notice anymore.

It's when the finds out the reason for your excitement, that she immediately get stiffs and just...Stares at you with a "I'm not angry, just disappointed" look.

Just kidding, she is angry.

And so, your excitement soon enough turns into nervousness, as you try to explain that yes, you still love her, yes, you still think she's the best singer, and yes, it's...Just a concert, despite how much it pains you say that.

Honestly, the doesn't even remotely consider an enemy possibly getting in the way, it's the last of her problems right now.

Well, seems like you won't be attending it. It might be important to you, but you don't want to hurt your girlfriend's feelings.

...That is, however, until the next day you hear her softly knock on your door, with a special...Something in her hand: two tickets and a special pass to meet the musicians.

Her pride may be big, but not as bit as her love for you. So, she decided that she had reacted excessively and bought these as a way to apology, though you can see the embarrassment on her face while she says all of this.

"I'm...Sorry for what I did, non avrei dovuto prenderla così sul personale. Do you still want to go?"

Not everything I said at the beginning is a lie though, and once she agreed on going, she can't help but find herself actually being quite impatient for the night ahead.

Sure, she'll try not to show her enthusiasm too much, but hearing some of the singer/band's songs from you, she actually kind of...likes them. She's got an ear for music and easily memorized the rhythm, although not the lyrics.

When the night finally comes, it's almost admirable just how comfortable she is despite the large amount of people, guess she's just used to it, mh?

She feels very proud of herself showing off the perfect places she's reserved in front of the stage just for you, being famous has quite a lot of advantages.

She inevitably finds herself humming the songs while you sing along so passionately. She'll try to deny it as soon as she notices, but she gives in quite enough and softly accompany you and the singers during the performance.

Finally, she'll be taking a lot of videos and photos of the two of you the whole time, but if she ever looked ugly in even just a single one, it's getting deleted before you can even blink.

[freeced]

REKI RAP // "Over It" (SK8 the Infinity)

How can I make it? I'm able to skate But if skating means just getting by then I hate it . . .

Okay, it's the Reki post!! Stream of consciousness here because I'm too busy to overthink things as much as I normally do. It's a Sunday. Sundays are for tuning vocals lifted off a fresh bowl. Sundays are for the gays. Sundays are for flying kites in the park with your best pal. Note: see if Caro wants to go fly a kite in the park later. So, you know, no time to be writing longwinded essays in the face of preserving whatever whimsy is left to be grasped in the wild. But here's what I got!

For as long as I can remember, I've been keenly aware of what it feels like to be second best, late to the party, falling behind, forever catching up...and Connor Quest wrote a perfect song about that years ago. There's even a remake that I played piano on. So this song isn't that, at least not completely. Actually, as it came together in the in-between-uploads rush it came together in, I noticed it really being about creative burnout as much as anything else. When I watched SK8, I think what stuck with me the most about Reki's rough patch wasn't just his feelings of inadequacy as a skater compared to what Langa and the others were capable of, it was that however much he tried not to care, he ultimately couldn't help it. It's a crush of conflicting emotions when you think you no longer care about your passions, yet being away from them hurts just as much.

Musically: I've been working on an album for way too long now, and most of the tracks on it are some kind of boombap song or have a similar feel. It's the style of rap I'm most comfortable with, the style I usually enjoy performing the most, and the kind of beat that tends to make me feel the most creative. I don't think it's what comes close to performing best on my channel (electroswing has kind of taken that over pretty handily), and that's why I've mostly contained it to the album lately, but I wanted to put out at least one more track like this before letting my channel be what it probably needs to be if it's gonna grow. There are some Freeced listeners who have been around asking for a SK8 track for a LONG time, and while this may not be the only one I ever do, it's nice to get it out there before this turning point. I'm also not sad about narrowing the focus of my channel, because collaborating and being involved in other projects (like Out After Winter) as well as learning new skills and continuing to work on my album is keeping me pretty sharp.

In fact, since releasing this song, I think I've found a little more peace with my relationship to burnout than I had at the time. I think it is something that can come and go, and maybe it's okay to sometimes measure my worth by more than just what I create. I don't need to dread being pulled back to the things I love doing, just as I don't need to dread losing my passion for them at times. Lately I've been focusing on the dynamics of my music as much as the content, and I'm starting to see the highs and lows of my compositions reflecting back the peaks and valleys of living an ordinary life.

Anyway, I never know how to end these, but there are some of my thoughts! I hope you like the song, I know it kinda died on YouTube but I don't really mind, if it's the kind of song that someone will find five years from now and relate to, then it's doing what it's supposed to do! And not to sound like a content creator, but, you know. Big things coming.

Big things coming.

[watatsumiis]

Here it iss Some fresh crack I don't do this often so idk how good this is 🥲

You and your friends decide to go to a haunted house!

There's your BFF nahida,the guy you've been crushing on for a while Childe, the one who planned the trip kaeya and..kaveh your worst enemy (yea you don't know why he's here either considering how much of a little whiny brat he is 😒)

ANYWAY you waltz in and are having a grand ol time clinging to your crush every chance you get-until *GASP* OH NO your bffl NAHIDA has been found dead!!

(Yup you guessed it its a MURDER MYSTERY!)

WHO COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING SO EVIL?? !!��(ﾟдﾟヽ)(ﾉﾟдﾟ)ﾉ!!

WELP your on the case withhh kaeya! Who ever so gracefully offered to help 👏

You swear to avenge your bestie and find the fiend who did this!

You question the staff that had been on the scene and..

The last person who was seen with nahida happened to be KAEYA!

NOW you decide not to jump to conclusions-yet and question him. Kaeya said he ran away after getting jumpscared and met up with Kaveh.

You question kaveh (while trying not to back hand him cuz yk worst enemy n all)

AND finally you are left with Childe who you happened to be with during the event (yk casually flirting)

Who could be the culprit??

A. No one She's just napping 😁

B.Kaveh! (You knew that over sensitive crybaby had something to do with it!)

C. Kaeya! (It must've been a set up! Why else would he wanna go to a haunted house in the middle of DECEMBER?? *just go with it*)

D. Childe! (Aghh the BETRAYAL how could he?? Especially after you were willing to hand over your heart to him!? (；Д；)✋️

E.You!

WILL YOU BE ABLE TO MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICE AND AVENGE YOUR BESTIE??

FIND OUT NEXT TIME ONNN "I'm probably bored so I'm doing something dumb"!

( there was alot of kaveh slander because you chose him as your enemy 😳 ik I did my bby wrong but this is entirely your fault!/lh)

Ik I was supposed to wait but-i couldn't help myself and just wrote it so just ignored what is asked earlier-it is kinda rushed tho soo

Hope it's to your liking

omg wait this is so silly and fun !!!! what !!!! BUT ALSO NO KAVEH SLANDER IN MMY HOUSE--- childe slander is okay though.

listen i think the logical answer would be childe given his track record, but if he was with me then i suppose it could not have been (unless TEUCER- (gets dragged away) )

my heart tells me that Nahida is just sleeping. shes fine. shes just having a little sleepy eepy. cabbage fairies need lots of rest and relaxation i think.

[starlitangels]

Broken (Not Broken)

I don’t know where this came from. I like all the listener characters paired with their Redacted bois. I really do. Like, I don’t really ship any Redacted character with anyone other than their listener. But this one was nagging at me so... here you go, I guess. 3.2k words It’s been a while since I wrote a longer one. Fun. (Psst! This one now has a Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 3.5)(Part 4)(Epilogue)

—

“Oh please, Shaw. If you had your way, you probably would have rather I stayed up in Washington indefinitely and never come back to Dahlia,” I spat, shoving past David toward the door to the security office. “And the rest of the pack wouldn’t blame you.” The last sentence came out as a quiet growl.

“What?” David demanded. I heard his boots stomping after me. Whipped my hand away as he tried to grab my arm. “Tanker—where the hell did you get an idea like that?”

“Where the hell do you think, alpha?” I retorted. I halted in my tracks but didn’t turn to look at him. “I’m the pack joke. I hear the whispers that follow me through pack meetings. They’ve been the same since I was thirteen. Reckless. Self-destructive. Headstrong. Loner...” I clenched my jaw, eyes falling to the worn-down carpet. “Broken.” I cleared my throat. “The pack thinks I’m broken. And guess what? They’re right. If they weren’t right before I left for Washington, they definitely are now. I’m broken, David.” I growled—more animalistic than usual even for me. “If I’d just stayed in Washington... at least I wouldn’t be the humiliating stain on your pack’s perfect reputation.”

“Tank—” David tried to protest.

I slammed open the door and stormed out. Once I was in the parking lot, I broke into a run.

“Tank!” David shouted behind me.

“Leave me alone, Shaw!” I threw over my shoulder. I turned the run into a sprint and leapt over the curb of the parking lot that led right to the forest. I knew why David had chosen this location for their office. Perfect access to the woods for a bunch of shifters.

My feet didn’t touch the soft dirt as I landed. My paws did, claws sinking in.

I’d perfected shifting mid-air when I was fourteen. Liked to make a trick of it. Mostly because Ash couldn’t figure out how I made it look so easy and every time he tried it he ended up falling over. He didn’t need to know it took two solid weeks of me also falling over to finally stop overcorrecting my balance.

I bounded through the woods, reveling in the wind rushing through my fur where it was exposed. I couldn’t hear David behind me. I doubted he’d follow anyway.

David and I weren’t always the best at picking our battles. Thinking we were strong enough to fight every single one. And win. But David was better at it than I was. Always had been. I didn’t know where he found the patience. Usually if I flew off the handle, he would be beside me. But there were more than a handful of times where he was behind me instead, grabbing me and holding me back.

He knew this argument wasn’t over. He knew we would pick up exactly where we left off later. The way spats between us always had. But he knew that I’d left for a reason. He knew that if I’d stayed one second longer, two of the biggest wolves in Dahlia would have torn that damn office apart.

I would have shifted and we would have fought. And David would have won. He always did. No matter how much better I got at fighting, I could never beat him. If I’d stayed and we’d fought, he would have beaten me to hell.

And I’d probably deserve it.

Self-destructive. Reckless. Headstrong. Wayward.

Broken.

I huffed out my nose and shook my head to clear it. So what if I was broken? So what if I threw myself at the wall and cracked a little more each time it broke first? Why was that anyone else’s business? I’d been a member of the pack since I was thirteen. But I’d never been part of it. Not like the others. They all leaned on each other—bolstered each other when they needed it.

They’d shied away from me. I was too much. Too hard. Too harsh. Too guarded. 

The vivid, distinct memory of Marie pulling Milo away from me and into her arms after I’d lost my cool and shifted to defend Milo from some bullies at school when we were fifteen still stung. I didn’t belong with them. I wasn’t like other wolves.

Whatever I was, I was made different. I was made violent. Sharp. Rough-edged in a way that couldn’t be softened. I’d tried. I’d wanted to be accepted when I was a teenager. When I first joined. I wanted to be part of the pack. And they’d tried to accept me. But I was too different. By the time I was twenty, I knew that I’d never be accepted fully. I was born to spill blood. The universe, God, or whatever was out there—something had decided that I was a fighter. And I’d never been given another option.

So I always did what I was born to do. I fought. I had the scars to prove it. I fought and I beat myself to hell and back with a wild disregard for my own body and safety. Because it was all I knew. And I let the pack shy away from me while I moved the other way. In a room full of people, I was always alone.

I slammed myself into a tree as I ran—to jar the look on Marie’s face from all those years ago out of my mind. Her wide eyes and slack jaw. The smell of fear. The maternal instinct to protect her son. Milo was one of the toughest wolves in the pack—always had been—and his mother still sought to protect him from me. After I’d done what I’d done in his defense. The look on her face... like I was some sort of monster...

It didn’t matter anymore. I’d accepted my place. Black sheep. Lone wolf.

Broken.

I kept running. Fast and hard. Lungs growing ragged with how hard I was breathing.

I’d just leapt a small stream when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. A text.

After a few steps to make sure I was on safe ground, I shifted back, leaning against a tree and panting while I pulled my phone out.

New Message David Shaw🐺: When you’re ready to -talk-, let’s talk.

I scoffed.

Every time we try to -talk- we end up shouting, Shaw.

I shoved my phone back in my pocket and trudged over to the stream. I plunged my hands into the frigid water, letting the tears finally fall. They splashed delicately into the current and washed away.

“Why do you even care?” I muttered. I shook my head. “He doesn’t actually care, Tank. He’s just fighting through the motions of keeping me in line because he has to. Because he’s the alpha. Your alpha. The one unlucky sucker who has the misfortune of dealing with me. Chaotic. Disastrous. Harbinger. Mess.” I scoffed. “Listen to me. Calling myself Tank. That title they gave me because I wasn’t one of them. The others just go by their names. Not me. Not to them. And apparently I’m so used to it I don’t even think of myself by my own name anymore. I am what they made me. And I am what I forged myself into.”

I got to my feet, shaking cold water off my hands. The stream had numbed my fingers, but in a way that felt good after the heat of running.

I found a log to sit down on. To let my magic recharge for a bit.

And I cried. Sobbed. Let myself break a little bit more. Alone. In the woods. Where no one could see me cry. Big wolves don’t cry.

Gabe had told me once that there was an African proverb that said, “A child not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.” He’d told me that with a fond, gentle smile as he gave me a hug. I’d been thirteen. New to the pack. Desperate to be accepted. Gabe was the only one whose attempts to connect with me felt genuine. Not obligatory.

I’d never wanted to be the child who burned down the village. But every passing year made it feel like the torch was already in my hand and pulling itself closer and closer to the homes.

I slid off the log and sat in the dirt, face buried in my hands and breathing coming only in the choked gasps of sobs.

Swearing, I slammed my fists into the earth beneath me. Not caring where twigs and pebbles dug in. Chaotic disregard for my own body. Recklessness. Hallmarks of who I’d always been.

“Did I ever tell you that I considered making you beta?” a voice said.

I swore again—louder and more emphatically—as David stepped over the log and sat down on it.

“The hell are you doing here?” I snapped, keeping my face turned away from him, for once inconvenienced by wearing a tank top—no sleeves to wipe my face on. “Were you following me? Creep.”

He didn’t rise to the bait. “Did I ever tell you?” he repeated. Calmly.

I rolled my eyes. “No. Why would you ever consider me? I shouldn’t have even been on the list.”

David grunted. “You were. You’re a good wolf. A damn strong fighter. And you care about people—even if you struggle to show it.” He cleared his throat. “Granted, I knew you’d refuse the position if I offered it to you, which ultimately led me to choosing Asher. But I thought if you were given responsibility in the pack, it would help you better connect to your packmates.”

“Yeah, that would have ended well,” I muttered. “Undermined your authority from the very beginning because you chose the outcast as your beta. You and I are both glad you dodged that bullet.”

“Will you look at me?” David demanded. “Stop staring at the ground and look me in the eye.”

I shoved myself to my feet, stormed a few steps away, and whirled to meet his gaze. “Why did you follow me out here, David? What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“We don’t talk. I don’t talk with anyone, apparently. It always turns into shouting matches. This pack is terrified of me. Of what I’ve done. Of what I could do.” I ground my jaw. “I should have stayed in Washington,” I said softly. “At least then I would have spared all of you the agony of having to deal with me.”

David leapt to his feet. When had he gotten so tall? “For the record, if I had my way as you said, you never would have left for Washington. I knew why you did it and I understood why you felt you needed to. That’s why I agreed. But you’re pack. You’re family. I didn’t want you to leave.”

I snorted in disbelief. “Is that right?”

David raised his chin. “Yes. It is,” he said sharply.

“You didn’t just jump at the chance to get the stain on your pack’s reputation off your hands? Make me someone else’s problem?” I pushed.

“Tank, you are not a ‘humiliating stain’ on the pack’s reputation. You never have been. We’re people. We make mistakes. Every damn member of this pack has broken the codes of conduct at least once. Including me. Granted, that was before I became the alpha, but I have.” He took a step closer to me. I took a step back.

David flinched. I blinked. “What?” I snapped.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he said.

“I’m not scared of you. I’m not scared of anything.”

“Except letting yourself be cared about!” David spat.

It was my turn to flinch at his tone. Any wolf would if their alpha spoke like that. My jaw tightened. A headache was forming in my temples from the tension in it. “You think that frightens me? You think I pulled away from the pack and went off the damn deep end into a self-destructive relationship with a sadistic vampire because I was scared of letting myself be cared about?” I growled. The hair on the back of my neck pricked. Trying to raise. But in human form I had no hackles to raise.

My tone got louder as I continued, “Are you really that blind, Shaw? I know you’re not a therapist or a social worker but come on. Any self-respecting alpha should be able to tell a cry for help when they see one. I showed up to pack meetings with the collar of my shirt soaked in my own blood and half of my damn neck ripped open—pleading inside for someone to ask if I was okay. You think I distanced myself from the pack? The pack pulled away from me first. Before any of this ever happened. Not Gabe—never Gabe. But after you took over? There was no one left to be on my side no matter what. Everything I did—everything I tried to do to connect with these people—it was never enough.

“You didn’t see the way Marie looked at me in high school. When those... pricks were picking on Milo for being small.” My hands balled into fists, fingernails digging into my palms. “Sure, I should have stayed in human form and ‘used my words’ or whatever. But words don’t get bullies like that in line. So I shifted. I pounced as a wolf. And I pushed Milo out of the way.

“And what did I get for it? A thank-you? No! I got Milo’s mother staring at me like I’m nothing more than a common beast and dragging Milo away from me. I defended him and she looked at me like I was the one who’d attacked him.” Tears were pouring down my face now. “I see that look in her eyes even now, the last time I spoke to Milo at a pack meeting. It’s been over ten years!

“I’m not scared of letting myself be cared about, David. I’m scared that I can’t be cared about. Because no one does care about me! I’m lonely down to the very marrow of my bones and no one in this pack notices. They’re all too scared to look at me!” I’d been backing up, voice getting louder and louder, as I’d ranted. David kept taking steps closer to me to keep the distance even. But his longer legs meant he was slowly getting closer. “Quinn broke me. I know that. You know that. The whole damn pack knows that. And I let him. Do you think it was hard for him to lead me on? Do you think he had to be so sly and crafty to get me to think he liked me? To distract me from how terrible he really was?

“Because it wasn’t.” I shook my head. “I was so desperate for any form of companionship that I let myself ignore every red flag without even realizing I was doing it. And when I finally snapped out of it, I figured out something that the whole pack seemed to think for years: love is not an emotion afforded to me.” I wanted to punch a tree. But managed to refrain.

David just stared at me for a moment. A muscle had flickered in his jaw when I made the self-respecting alpha comment, but now his face was slack.

“Look at me David. For the first time in our lives, really look. I’ve seen the way you look straight through everyone else in the pack. Peer deep into their souls. See me for what I am for the first time. I dare you,” I snapped.

“I see you, Tank,” he said.

“No you don’t!” I didn’t mean to explode, but I couldn’t help it. “Because you still see me as Tank! The title the others in the pack slapped me with! No one else in the pack has a nickname like that. Just me. Given to me because I’m not like the others.”

“You really feel that way?”

“Duh. Congratulations on having to be told outright in order to notice. Now answer my question. What the hell are you doing here? Why did you follow me?”

“I came because I was worried about you. Because—contrary to your belief— there are people in this pack who care about you.”

“Yeah, right,” I retorted, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. “Look, I’m only staying in Dahlia until I find Quinn and tear his throat out with my teeth. Then I’ll go back to Washington and get out of your lives and your hair.”

“Did you not hear me when I said I didn’t want you to leave in the first place?” David asked sharply.

“I heard. But that doesn’t change the fact that apparently my presence has made the packs’ lives hell since I got here.”

“And if I say you can’t?”

“Then I’ll leave without your blessing. It’s not like I’ve ever cared about that kinda crap before.” I squeezed my eyes shut for a second. “Why are you even here? Why are you even acting like you care? You and I were always the least social of the group. I thought we had an understanding.”

“We did.”

“So what are you doing out here? Why would you follow me into the woods? Why does it matter to you, David?” My voice got louder and louder until I was shouting. I’d kept backing up—but as I shouted his name, my spine bumped into a tree. Cornered.

David grabbed my shoulders and pushed me against the trunk. “Because I love you, dammit!” he shouted.

Oh.

Oh.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were eighteen. It killed me to watch you let Quinn destroy you, and it killed me to let you leave for Washington. But as your alpha I had to let you go and recover from everything he’d put you through. I couldn’t think as the kid who had a crush on you.” He sucked in a deep breath through his nose. “And I came after you because it broke my heart to see you running away from me.”

My chest burned. And for once it wasn’t my Core aching to shift.

“I... I really want to kiss you,” I said. Surprised at how breathless my own voice sounded.

David almost looked shocked. “I’ve waited to hear that since we were teenagers. C... can I?”

“Please do.”

He pushed me harder against the tree trunk and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him to me. He was warm and firm against me, fingers digging into the muscle of my shoulders, wrinkling up my tank top.

One of his hands slid up to cup the side of my face. And he whispered my name—my real name—between kisses. Over and over. He whispered it reverently. An exultation.

“Isn’t it... complicated... for an alpha... to date... a pack member?” I asked between kisses, my fingertips pressing into his back.

David snorted out his nose. “I don’t care,” he replied, voice just as breathless as mine had been. “I’ve wanted this... wanted you... for years.”

“Okay,” I said. “You wanna do this?”

“Only if you do.”

“I wouldn’t be kissing you if I didn’t.”

“Fair enough.” He kissed me again. “And, for the record, you’re not broken. You put yourself back together—and you healed all the stronger for it.”

[flowerbarrel-art]

~ Alan Becker, AvA, AvM

~ “Deadly Axolotl Bug” video (at least one of them)

~ Here’s a sequel (and it is shipping because I couldn’t resist)

Characters: Yellow and Purple

Wrote something to go with this:

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

Yellow stepped back from the crafting table and stretched for a moment.

“Alright, here you go,” he said, giving Purple an iron pickaxe and a couple stone ones.

Purple put the iron one and a stone one away.

“Where are we going?” he asked, scuffing a foot in the dirt as Yellow crafted more tools.

“Fishing.”

“…okay.”

“Heh. Sorry. I found a lush cave mine near here. I think you’ll like it. And it had a lot of iron.”

“Oh, uh….alright,” Purple said. “I…I’m kinda…”

Yellow looked over curiously.

“Umm…never mind.”

“Are you claustrophobic?” Yellow asked.

“…a little,” Purple sighed. “Maybe someone else should go with you.”

“It’s a pretty big mine,” Yellow said, patting Purple’s shoulder. “I think you’ll be okay. But we don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Purple stared at the ground, then back up with a nod.

“Alright. Lead the way.”

Yellow grinned, and Purple frowned at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. Come on! We’ll eat lunch once we get there.”

Purple rolled his eyes, but followed Yellow without comment.

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

“Have you been to the lush caves before?” Yellow asked once they’d had lunch and cleaned up.

“Don’t think so,” Purple said. “It’s pretty, though. But I hear the axolotls can get kinda wild.”

“They can?” Yellow asked.

“It’s called ‘The Deadly Axolotl Bug’. Someone pushed an Axolotl under a piston block and it started spinning. When they touched it, they got launched.”

“I…didn’t hear that,” Yellow said.

“I saw it on a YouTube video,” Purple said. “I could show you when we get back…as long as you promise not to try it out.”

“Yeah, ah…I can’t promise that,” Yellow said with a chuckle.

“You’d probably find the video anyway,” Purple sighed.

“Probably.”

They walked through the dim cave for a bit without talking, as the terrain had gotten rougher.

“Glad my torches are still here,” Yellow said.

“So am I,” Purple agreed. “Don’t exactly wanna get lost.”

“I’ve got a lot of extra pickaxes,” Yellow said. “We’d be able to just dig diagonally up and out.”

Purple gave a nervous chuckle.

“But it won’t come to that,” Yellow said quickly. “As you can see, the torches are still here.”

“Yeah….so, you said there was a lot of iron?”

Yellow halted, then pointed at the ceiling.

Purple looked up to see blocks of iron ore among the softly glowing strings of glow fruit.

“Well, let’s go get it,” Purple said, pulling out a stack of cobblestone. “Is there more that way?”

He nodded at the trail of torches that continued into the gloom of the caves.

“Yeah, and not too far,” Yellow said, standing at the base of the cobblestone steps Purple was making. “You still good?”

“Yup.”

Purple quickly mined the iron, then hopped to the ground, clearing the cobblestone before heading to the next bunch of iron ore.

“I’ll watch you,” Purple said as Yellow began to make a staircase up to the ore blocks.

“Thanks! I won’t take long.”

Purple scanned the area while Yellow mined, watching and listening for any approaching mobs.

“Got it!” Yellow said, hopping back down to the ground. “Ready?”

Purple nodded and helped Yellow gather up the cobblestone.

“Thanks, um…for…you know,” Purple said as they walked. “I’m doing okay.”

“That’s good,” Yellow said. “I kinda pushed you into coming…but I know you haven’t seen this before.”

“What, iron?” Purple asked, puzzled.

Yellow just smiled and gestured to the path ahead; Purple raised an eyebrow but looked.

He noticed a faint purple light coming from an open cavern up ahead.

“What is that?” Purple asked, curiosity overriding his anxiety for the moment as they approached the cavern.

Purple stepped into the open space and was stopped in their tracks.

The cavern, instead of stone, granite or diorite, was lined floor to ceiling with shining purple blocks.

Yellow stepped into the cavern and Purple stared at him in amazement.

“What is this?” he breathed.

“Amethyst!” Yellow exclaimed, grinning. “And watch this!”

Yellow jumped forward and landed neatly on one of the bright purple blocks; a pleasant chiming noise filled the cavern.

“They make music?” Purple asked, still in awe at the beautiful sight.

“Yup!” Yellow said, moving towards a wall. “These are amethyst crystals.”

Yellow swung his pickaxe and gathered a couple crystals.

He heard chimes and smiled, easily picturing Purple skipping across the room after him.

“Fun, huh?” Yellow asked, turning and offering Purple an amethyst crystal.

“This is amazing!” Purple exclaimed, a delighted smile on his face. “I can’t believe I’ve never been here before!”

“Thanks for coming with me,” Yellow said, still smiling as Purple examined the amethyst. “I probably should’ve explained, but I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Purple looked at Yellow, beaming.

“I think I can let it slide.”

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙧𝙮 || niki lauda x reader x james hunt

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 : flirting with james shouldn’t have been a problem, because you and niki weren’t even that serious anyways, right?  well, it turns out you are serious, but it also turns out not to be quite the problem you expected.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 2.8k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 : smut (threesome, dubcon (slight), oral f and m receiving, dp/anal, spitroasting, slight degradation/dumbification, overstimulation, spanking), touch of angst, possessiveness, niki being mean (guys, it’s niki), pwp

based on a request by @creme-bruhlee which was based on a thing I told him I was working on which I wasn’t actually working on yet but then I casually wrote in one sitting when I was supposed to be doing my sleepover gah

                       You certainly didn’t like James Hunt.  After all, you were all but contractually obligated to hate him in solidarity with your boyfriend and his biggest rival, Niki.

But you did appreciate James— for his undeniable talent as a driver, and for what he brought out in your boyfriend.  Not just on the track, but at times like this as well.

It started rather innocently, at least as innocent as any press event could be.  Niki wore you proudly on his arm, for most of the interviews: you knew that a lot of this for him was simply a publicity ploy to improve his image, but it honestly didn’t bother you that much since it was partially for publicity on your part as well (you had your own career to advance, after all).

What bothered him, though, was when James started to suddenly chat you up, undeniably flirty but just to the level that it could almost be construed as polite.

He waited until Niki was pulled away for an interview and stood just behind the camera, asking you a million questions and finding dumb excuses to touch you: first it was something in your hair, then admiring your bracelet (Niki gave it to me, you told him; Twice now he’s shown that he has fine taste, James winked in reply) until he finally stepped closer and rested his hand on your lower back.

“Let me show you what a real driver can do, sweetheart,” he offered lowly, leaning in so close that his lips brushed against your temple, and you caught Niki leaving the interview suddenly in the corner of your eye.

“And let me show you what happens when you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” Niki interrupted, shoving James back off of you before hitting him square in the jaw.  You gasped, as did the many reporters and drivers watching, but soon Niki’s attention was turned back to you, fire in his glare.

“Hey, I was just trying to be personable—” James defended as he held his face in his hand, but Niki ignored him, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you behind him out of the press tent.

“Looks like the infamous Hunt/Lauda rivalry has come to a bit of a head, possibly over Lauda’s girlfriend—” you heard one of the reporters explain to a camera, but soon the buzz faded to silence as Niki took you further away.

“Where are we going, Niki?” you asked nervously, trailing behind him as best you could.

“Somewhere private where you can learn your lesson,” Niki answered, making you swallow dryly.  He wasn’t the sort of person you wanted to be in trouble with.

He found an empty garage and all but tossed you inside, pinning you to the wall at each shoulder.  

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, letting Hunt put his hands on you like that?” he hissed.

“I didn’t let him, he just did it!” you defended.

“Then you tell him to stop!” Niki explained, exasperated.  “Instead of standing right there, right in front of my face and doing nothing!  You can’t imagine how it feels to see another man put his hands on you— and that man...”

You hadn’t realized he cared about that sort of thing; you hadn’t realized he cared about you that much.  “I’m sorry, Niki, it won’t happen again.”

“You’re right about that,” he hissed, “it won’t happen again because you’re going to bend over that toolbox and learn not to test me."

You opened your mouth to protest and yet you were already doing it, feeling your cheeks burn as he pulled your dress up and rubbed his calloused hands over your ass and thighs.

A yelp jumped from your mouth when he hit you, but your thighs clenched together, too. "Now would be a good time to start apologizing," he suggested coldly.

"Niki, baby, I'm so so sorr— ah!" you whined again when he hit you even harder, the sound of his skin on yours echoing around the garage.

"Do you want to flirt with him? Would you rather be his flavor of the week?" Niki interrogated.

"No! Just want you, I swear," you promised, biting your lip to hold back a moan when he hit you twice in a row.

"You'll have me," he promised. "You need to remember who you belong to."

If you weren't so desperate you would've probably protested to that language, but your panties were soaked from almost nothing at all and you were in no position to debate with him.

The sound of his uniform unzipping was like music to your ears, and you purred a little when he pulled your panties down your thighs slowly. "Are you enjoying this?" he realized. "It's supposed to be a punishment and still you're soaking wet. Is that for him or me?"

"You, Niki, fuck me, please," you whined, the sound shifting into a gasp as he pushed inside you roughly, a little too deep and a little too fast for how little you'd been prepared. It was usually some level of struggle to take him but this was a very new circumstance: now he was fucking you with a point to make, with a message to send. And you got that message loud and clear as he mercilessly pounded into you, nearly knocking over the toolkit you were bent onto. "Fffuck," you stammered, holding onto the aluminum for dear life while he grunted behind you.

"You can moan louder than that, no need to suppress yourself," he encouraged.

"They could hear us, they're not too far away—"

He spanked you again and you cried out, realizing he likely wanted them to hear you; he wanted those reporters to make sure everyone knew that you were his. "Tell them who's fucking you so good, hm? Tell them who you belong to."

"Niki," you sobbed, "yours, baby, I'm yours..."

Just then, the door to the garage swung open and you gasped at the sight of James Hunt. You tried to kick Niki away and cover yourself but he didn't budge— he didn't even stop fucking you, much to your humiliation.

"I'm a little busy here, James," Niki explained with a smug grin.

"I can tell— listen, if you're gonna make us all hear this, could you at least do it right?" James frowned. "Your girl has many talents but acting is not one of them."

"Are you saying this is a performance?" Niki realized.

"You'd be able to tell the difference if you'd ever heard a woman actually finish but with you, that's impossible," James laughed. "Smart move going from behind, though, spare her from having to look at—" James motioned to his face broadly— "this whole situation you have going on."

"If you think you can do better, Hunt, I'd love to see you try."

You started about a thousand questions but didn't finish any of them, and James grinned as he shut the door behind himself. "I told you I'd show you what a real driver can do, didn't I?" he addressed you, crossing the room to where Niki had you pinned down.

Before you could say anything (not that you knew what to say), James grabbed your hair and kissed you, not quite rough yet but completely dominating as his tongue slid over yours and tickled the roof of your mouth.

"You wouldn't be doing that if you knew where her mouth had been, James," Niki chuckled.

"That sort of shit doesn't bother me, Lauda," James explained once he'd broken his lips away from yours. "It's called confidence in my masculinity, look it up sometime. I know exactly what's been in her cunt, too, and I'm still gonna show her how a real man eats pussy."

You got a little nervous at the sound of that, but wetter as well.

Niki circled to face you, clutching your jaw and examining your expression carefully as James hungrily licked and sucked at your cunt.

"If you're going to eat her cunt then let me fill it with my come first, give you a little taste of victory, eh?" Niki joked, but James pushed him away and you whined slightly when your boyfriend's cock slipped out of you... but it was only a moment before James knelt behind you, swiping his tongue over your swollen bud and drenched opening as you purred.

"I hope your jaw isn't too sore, Hunt," Niki sneered.

"It's not," James assured with saccharine faux-sweetness before diving back in to taste you further.

James stopped to lean his head out to the side. "Think she likes the sound of that, Niki— she clenched down on my tongue real tight."

"If you come for him, you won't like what I'll do to you," Niki warned you harshly. "You won't sit right for a week, at least."

"Oh, I see," Niki smirked. "You want me to tear up that little ass... should've known, you have that look about you: the kind of girl who acts innocent in public but turns into a whore when the lights go out."

Yet again James caught you reacting to what Niki said, though this time he didn't need to announce it since your own moan gave you away.

"Go ahead and fuck her then, Hunt, and get her ass ready for me," Niki instructed. You were surprised when James obeyed, standing up and unzipping his uniform as well to start rubbing his cock over your dripping pussy.

"You want it, sweetheart?" James taunted. "Ask very nicely."

"Fuck me, James, please," you sighed, and he was much more gentle than Niki had been as he filled you, letting you savor every inch of his length.

"Sounds so lovely when you say my name like that, do it again," James demanded, slowly beginning to rock into you.

"James," you breathed, gasping when Niki pushed his cock against your lips; you could taste yourself on him and it turned you on even more.

"I think we can find a better use for your mouth than boosting James' ego, yes?" Niki groaned as he started to fuck your mouth, holding your head steady. "Certainly he doesn't need any more of that."

You moaned loudly around Niki's cock when James circled his finger around your tighter rim. The first knuckle pushed in and you felt your knees wobble. Then back out again, then to the second knuckle-- each twist of his finger he went a little deeper, he even went so far as to spit on your hole which made you choke from more than just Niki's cock down your throat.

"Your girl's gotta sweet little cunt, Niki," James groaned as he fucked you faster. "You should let your pit crew use her, too, give 'em a morale boost."

"Maybe I will if she doesn't behave for us today," Niki considered, weaving his fingers into your hair to start fucking your face more roughly.

Your legs threatened to give out with the way James was fucking you; your eyes rolled back in your head with a suppressed moan as Niki kept using your mouth.

Around the same time Niki pulled his cock out to rub it over your face, James pulled out to slap his swollen head on your clit.

Another finger pushed into your ass and you made a sound that you hardly recognized as your own. "If I had known you liked it up the ass so much, you would've never taken it anywhere else," Niki promised with a growl.

Once James decided both your holes were ready, they seemed to have no trouble at all manhandling you into the position they needed— surely it was the first time you'd ever seen them work together— and soon you found yourself balanced on James' lap while Niki found his place behind you.

"Do you think you can take us both, sweetheart?" James taunted as you felt both of them teasing your holes.

"Well, I've never been fucked by two massive dicks before," you admitted, "and you have big cocks, so..."

"I'll miss that wit of yours when you become a mindless, drooling fuckdoll in the next two minutes," Niki stated plainly.

It only took ten seconds.

Your hands weakly held onto James' shoulders as you bounced on top of him, moaning lowly as you were filled beyond what you thought possible. Niki had to hold your waist to help guide you, occasionally thrusting forward to fill your ass with every inch of him.

"Ah, fuck," you moaned, reaching beside you to grab Niki's forearm in an attempt to stabilize yourself.

James tore your dress down the front and latched onto your tits, sucking hard and even letting his teeth graze one nipple while Niki used his free hand to pinch the other.

Even when your eyes fell shut and your brain was totally empty, you could tell them apart just by touch. It was Niki sucking a mark on the side of your neck, but James grabbing a rough handful of your ass. It was Niki that reached around to rub your clit, but James that nibbled and sucked on your earlobe while whispering things so dirty that your face burned hot.

"We can both feel it when you come, do it again," Niki demanded just before your third hit you.

"Give us a good squeeze, sweetheart, wanna feel that cunt milk me," James agreed.

"I-I'm coming," you gasped as your head fell back, both of them laughing and cooing proudly.

"There she goes."

"Good fucking girl."

"Gets tighter every time."

You only regained your ability to tell who said what when you felt Niki's lips against your ear, his voice soothing your aching, quivering body. "You want to be full of come, don't you?" he presumed, and you nodded sleepily. "We'll fill you as deep as we can, and you need to keep it in you for the rest of the day."

"Yes, Niki," you agreed softly.

They picked up their pace and you felt like a ragdoll as they thrust into your limp body, chasing their highs as recklessly as always until you lost your voice from moaning so loud.

James finished first, though you imagined this was one race he would’ve preferred not to win.  He bit down on your shoulder as he filled you, hard enough to leave a mark which you knew would anger Niki when he realized it.

"Tell me who you belong to," Niki pleaded one last time, coming inside you the moment you answered "you, Niki."

And then it was just the three of you, standing there in a sweaty jumble of limbs, catching your breath and trying to process what had just occurred.

“Do you think we can get out of here without too many reporters seeing?” Niki asked James.

“I’m going to worry about getting out of the girl first, then the building,” James decided, and the two of them helped lift you onto your numb legs, your body slow to recover from the onslaught of sensations that had been forced on you this long.  If anything was more jarring than being filled by both of them, it was both of them pulling out at once.  Come leaked out of you from more places than you cared to admit, and since James had torn your dress, Niki gave you his uniform to wear which left him in only the undershirt and boxers he wore beneath.

“I can’t believe I’m getting your spunk on my uniform right now, Hunt,” Niki grimaced, making James laugh as he zipped himself back up.  Funny enough, he looked the most normal after all this of the three of you; maybe because he always had that ‘just had some freaky sex’ look about him.  You and Niki were a bit newer to the game, so you didn’t wear it as well, but honestly you thought he looked pretty cute with his curls all messed up from when you’d run your fingers through them.

“Well,” James announced with a puffed chest and proud smile, “next time you two are having a lover’s spat, give me a call and I’ll lend a hand or cock as needed.  But I think I’ll take my leave now.”

What do you say after something like that?  Apparently the answer is nothing, considering you just nodded slightly and Niki gave him an awkward wave as he disappeared out the door with the nonchalance as his arrival.

Plunged into silence, you glanced over at Niki who was already staring at you.  “So?” he asked.  “Was he better?”

“No,” you answered right away.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Relief washed over you when he pulled you into an embrace and kissed your forehead; you couldn’t think of the last time he was so affectionate.  “Let’s get back to the track and find you a new dress, hm?” he suggested.  “One that James Hunt absolutely won’t get his hands on.”

[honeypiehotchner]

Normal (Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader) -- oneshot

I know this is def not my normal content because y’all know I’m a huge Hotch girl, but sometimes I slip back into being a Reid girl. It’s hard not to! I see a lot of myself in him and it led me to write this, so enjoy this (very real, actually) glimpse inside my head in the form of a fluffy Reid story xx.

I listened to “Normal” by AJR a lot while I wrote this!

Summary: Spencer has recently returned to the BAU after a short period of leave, and he comes back to find you, an agent-in-training filling his Resident Genius shoes. He admires you for who you are. You think he hates you. He tries to convince you otherwise.

DR. SPENCER REID MASTERLIST

At first, you thought it was because of the way you read books.

You’ll never forget the first day you met the infamous Dr. Spencer Reid. He had returned from leave for his injured knee (he was shot, you were told) and this was apparently the second time he had attempted to step foot in the office. The first time didn’t go over well when Hotch found Spencer’s file that said his doctor did not clear him for work yet.

Regardless, you were sitting in your desk chair, legs crossed underneath you, “like a human pretzel,” Morgan always teases. You were reading a book, one of your favorites, to pass the time when Spencer walked in.

You knew it instantly because Morgan’s loud and affectionate, “Pretty. Boy!” could be heard all over the BAU.

You didn’t get up from your chair or stop reading -- besides the brief moment when you looked up to see what the commotion was about.

You still remember your internal monologue. Should I get up and hug him like Morgan? No, no, I don’t know him that well. I don’t want to hug anyone today, anyway. Shake his hand? You remember your hand tensing at the mere thought. Okay, not that either. I could wave, but I can’t tell if I even need to. I’ll just keep reading.

You had heard of Spencer before this. Hotch made it abundantly clear to you and the team that you were not replacing Spencer when you joined. You aren’t even officially a member of the BAU yet. You’re on a bit of a trial run, so to speak. That’s how Hotch explained it.

Yes, you were and still are well aware that the timing looks awful. An agent who is vital and loved in the BAU is shot and out of work right as a new, younger, and less experienced but surprisingly intelligent agent steps in for a “trial run” (which no one ever does).

To anyone else, it obviously looks like you were sent here to replace Dr. Reid under the disguise of a short “trial run.”

But that isn’t the case at all.

You thought Spencer didn’t like you because of the way you read books. You immerse yourself in them. You use a pencil to track what line you’re on, so nearly every page has a vertical, light gray line in the margin where the tip of your pencil lead barely grazed the page. You underline keywords and phrases. You draw arrows. You write commentary in the margins.

You thought that was what annoyed him until you saw him highlighting a book and writing in the margins, too. He doesn’t even necessarily need to, especially since he can read so damn fast and remember everything.

That’s also what you suspected -- that he didn’t like you because you could read almost as fast as him.

Keyword here: almost.

You can scan a page and spit the information back out in layman’s terms, sure. But you won’t remember what you read in great detail the next day, sometimes even the next hour -- especially when you were sort of filling the Resident Genius shoes and you’d have to read through stacks of evidence every hour.

You had thought your speed was just another thing Spencer didn’t like because it was just one more thing pointing to the conclusion that you were hired to replace him.

But he doesn’t care. You gladly let him read the evidence and memorize it, but you’ll help him out sometimes by scanning something first to see if it might have what he’s looking for. If it might, then he goes through and catches the fine details.

He’s never once acted as he hates you -- even though you’ve had “friends” who hated your guts and you had no idea (true story: high school is brutal and you were always shocked when your childhood best friend told you how “fake” others were acting toward you). But you’ve tried to look for specific signs, and he shows none of them.

You’re grasping at straws at this point. You’re on a profiling team and you had to Google how to tell if someone hates you. It’s pathetic, truly.

He doesn’t avoid you -- but he also is a really private person like you who likes his time alone.

He doesn’t drop a conversation with you after it’s been started -- but he also rambles so much anyway that you don’t know if he himself is capable of dropping a conversation abruptly.

He doesn’t avoid eye contact with you -- but even that one is tricky because you’re still working on it yourself, and you definitely have some days where you avoid eye contact. Sometimes you can hold it too well, though, and you always wonder if that’s rude.

Going through the rest of the signs that you found on Google goes exactly like that. He hasn’t done it, but then again… There’s always a catch.

It’s exhausting.

It’s a straight week of this before you finally cave and go to the one person you know you can always trust.

“Morgan, does Reid hate me?”

Derek stops stirring his coffee and tilts his head, furrowing his eyebrows at you. “What?” He goes back to stirring before tossing the stick in the trash. “Kiddo, why would he hate you?”

You misread this, too, and think Derek is confirming that Reid has hated you all along. “I don’t know. Why would he? What did I do?”

Morgan pauses, staring at you for a second before he realizes. “Ah, alright. It’s not clicking?”

You and Morgan have this phrase for when things completely fly over your head. “It’s not clicking?” is all he has to ask and all you have to do is nod, and he explains things to you.

So, you nod.

“Okay, listen, he does not hate you,” Morgan says. “I mean that. He’s been struggling to get settled after being out, but he doesn’t hate you. He’s far from hating you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just, trust me. He doesn’t hate you.”

“Okay,” you say slowly. You do trust Morgan, but somehow his words don’t ease your mind this time. “Should I talk to him about it? Or is that overstepping?” You pause. “I don’t wanna be annoying.”

“Kiddo, you’re never annoying,” Morgan smiles, raising his coffee at you. “I’m serious. And sure, if you think talking to him about it will help, go for it.”

“Okay… How do I ask him?”

Morgan shrugs. “Say you’ve felt like there’s been underlying tension and you want to clear the air.”

“Underlying tension and I want to clear the air. Got it,” you chant to yourself. “Thanks, Morgan!”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

Fast forward an hour or two and you finally have enough courage worked up to confront Spencer. The first hour was spent rehearsing what you plan to say and the second was spent rehearsing what you might be asked and what you can say. And finally, you were ready to walk around the set of cubicles to get to Spencer’s.

Spencer looks up when he sees you walking over and he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, Y/N, I just found this really good book about the strategies of--”

“I’ve felt like there’s been a lot of underlying tension between you and me and I wanna clear the air,” you blurt.

Spencer pauses, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Are you mad at me?” You try again.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Do you hate me?”

“What? No!” Spencer sets his book down on his desk. “Of course I don’t hate you.”

“Oh...okay,” you nod slowly. “That’s...that’s all then.”

As you’re turning around to go back to your, Spencer stands. “Wait, Y/N.”

You raise your eyebrows in question. “Oh, right,” you chuckle nervously. “What book did you want to tell me about?”

“Oh,” Spencer looks down at his desk, then shakes his head. “I’ll tell you that later, I wanted to ask first if...if you wanted to get dinner later? There’s a reading downtown for this new poet and I thought you’d like to go.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Yes, I was actually already going, but yeah. We can get dinner.” You mentally rearrange things in your schedule as you speak.

“Okay,” he smiles softly. “Oh, the book. Here, you can--” He pauses and grabs a chair, rolling it over for you.

Derek watches from his desk as the two of you sit down and Reid starts rambling.

+++

You and Spencer leave straight from the BAU to get dinner before the reading.

One thing you’re grateful for that comes with spending time with Spencer is that you never have to worry about conversation. He carries it and if there’s ever a silence, he fills it. Or, like tonight, the two of you enjoy a mutual silence.

You opted for a table outside on the patio because the dinner rush was crowding the restaurant indoors, and it made the lights seem a little too bright. You could feel a headache coming on when Spencer asked if the two of you could sit outside.

It’s a little chilly outside, so you guys are alone, but you’re both always bundled up, so you aren’t cold. Spencer is always in some form of layers and a scarf, and you are, too. Minus the scarf, though, because some days it doesn’t feel right on your neck (and lately it doesn’t). But you’re always in a sweater and a cardigan.

Winter is your favorite season because of this. You can wear as many layers as you need and not suffer from a heatstroke.

After a quiet dinner (that you actually kind of needed, though you didn’t realize it at first), the two of you walk down the street to the small bookstore where the poetry reading is taking place.

“So, you said you were already coming,” Spencer begins.

“Hm?”

“To the poetry reading,” he clarifies.

“Oh, right,” you chuckle. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says, unfazed. “Do you read a lot of poetry?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’ve always loved it, I think. I write some, too, but I don’t know how good it is. Probably not very since I’m in the FBI.”

Spencer laughs softly. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Do you write poetry?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “Not often, but sometimes.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I like it. Not enough to do it for a living, of course. Actually, I almost got a Masters in Poetry a few years ago.”

“That’s crazy.”

“I can’t imagine being a poet,” he says, slowing his steps as you reach the bookstore. “But I guess that’s why I’m not one.”

You’re not sure what else to say, so you stay quiet while he opens the door for you, gesturing for you to go inside.

Bookstores are your forever safe haven. The quiet stacks, the mutual agreement between everyone inside not to speak to anyone else unless it’s dire. Not to mention, being surrounded by words.

Even events like these are small. Every event you’ve been to, you’ve been one of maybe twenty people attending. It’s your Heaven. It’s the kind of social interaction you’re somewhat good at.

Spencer is surprised when you willingly sit in the front. He would’ve expected you to sit at the back, in the middle row, even, but not the front center. He doesn’t question it, though. He just quietly sits next to you.

You pull the poet’s book out of your bag and it’s a well-worn copy. You flip through the pages and Spencer catches glimpses of underlined words, commentary, everything that lets him know this must be your favorite.

“Do you um…” Spencer pauses, waiting until you tilt your head, showing your attention. “Do you come to readings here often?”

“Every month,” you nod. “It’s a weird routine I’ve had ever since I moved here. I went to readings almost every week in college, and I didn’t want to stop.”

“I don’t come to a lot for poetry,” Spencer says. “Mostly novels -- and mostly conventions for academia-based writings.”

“Those have always scared me,” you chuckle, only half joking.

“Really? Why?”

“Oh, just the idea of hundreds of people crowded in a hall. That kind of thing just isn’t my speed.”

“You know, if it’s too scary to go alone, you’re welcome to come with me,” Spencer offers.

“Okay.”

“There’s one next Friday,” Spencer says. “If we’re not out on a case, we can go together, right after work.”

“Okay, yeah,” you smile. “What time?”

“It starts at 7, so we could leave work at 5:30 and get dinner beforehand.”

You mentally begin piecing next Friday together in your head and you nod, thankful for his mention of specific times. “That sounds good.”

Soon the chairs around you are filled and you recognize a few people who smile at you, so you smile back. Before long, the manager of the store is stepping up to introduce tonight’s poet, and Spencer watches you eagerly crack open their book.

+++

Somehow, spending time with Spencer has gotten worked into your routine.

You go with him to academic readings, and he comes with you to your poetry ones. The two of you have dinner together most nights because it’s your routine to eat right after work, and most of the time he’s already rambling about something to you when 5 o’clock hits and you begin packing up your stuff.

Tonight is no different, only this time when you’re walking next to Spencer to the bookstore for another poetry reading, he fills the silence.

“Can I tell you something?”

You pause, but nod anyway, wondering why Spencer is asking this time when he hasn’t before -- not that you can recall.

Spencer takes a deep breath. “I know you thought I hated you, and honestly when you told me that, I couldn’t believe it. Because I don’t hate you and I never have. I...I like you a lot, Y/N.”

“Oh,” you let out a breathy chuckle. “I like you too, Spencer. I’m glad you don’t hate me and thanks for saying it again. Sometimes I need the reminder.”

He chews on his lower lip as he listens to you, and it’s obvious you didn’t catch what he is really trying to say. “Y/N, I mean...I like you. I have feelings for you -- romantic feelings,” he clarifies, watching your face intently. 

You’ve never made the most facial expressions, but when you do, they can be exaggerated. Which is what happens now.

Your eyes widen and you make what looks like a grimace with your lower lip. “I’m sorry,” you say, scrunching your nose. “Have these…have these all been dates?”

Spencer shrugs. “Only if you want them to be. I just like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you, too,” you smile softly. “You don’t hate me for not realizing, do you?”

“Of course not,” he laughs. “But I wanted to tell you because I like being honest with you and...if you feel the same, then...we can go from there, but if not, it’s okay. Like I said, I like spending time with you.”

“I do feel the same,” you blurt. “At least, I think I do. I don’t know. I might need to think, but I know I’m interested and...and I know I really like spending time with you.”

Spencer smiles. “Okay, uh...do you-- Can I hold your hand? Is that okay?”

You can’t help the smile that crawls onto your face in that moment, and you nod.

Spencer stretches out his hand and you take yours out of your pocket, hissing through your teeth for a moment at the cold air, but when Spencer’s fingers tangle with yours, you feel better.

Everything feels better when you’re with Spencer.

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

closing time

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader (kinda?)

warning: mentions of blood, a probably very inaccurate description of a wound being treated (lemme know if I should add anything else)

word count: around 3,000

a/n: wrote this before bed last night and edited it this morning. feedback would be appreciated, just pls don’t be too hard on me, since it’s the first fic i’m posting on here. i have a vague idea for a second part if anyone’s interested.

summary: a wounded stranger stumbles into your life one night, and you find yourself helping her out despite your better instincts.

next part

It was a slow night for a change. The last customer had left half an hour ago. An elderly man who had only bought two packs of cigarettes and some strawberry mint gum to go along with it. He was a regular, came in at least once a week, always bought the same thing. The kind of customer you enjoyed after a long day: quiet and quick to leave.  

You were all set to lock up for the day. All you could do now was wait for your shift to actually be over. A difficult thing for someone who was inherently impatient and had nothing to distract herself with. Your phone had died halfway through the day, and you had finished your book sometime around lunch. Any other night, you would at least have your co-worker or your boss to chat with, but Mr. Douglas had left early today. Something about his in-laws coming to visit. You hadn't question it.

A glance at the clock. Ten more minutes. With a sigh, you closed your eyes, just listening to the ticking sound. For a while, you counted along. It was calming. Almost enough to lull you to sleep. Not that that took a lot, you were pretty tired after all. You had long lost track of the seconds gone by when, in between the rhythmical tik-tok, a  shrill bell chimed. The one above the entrance you knew all too well.  

You had to suppress an annoyed sigh. Last-minute customers.

Whatever complaint you had on your mind was quickly replaced by utter shock when you opened your eyes. In, through the drugstore-door, staggered a woman with fiery red hair, covered head to toe in dirt. Bruises lined her face, and she kept one hand pressed to her abdomen in a futile attempt to stop blood from seeping out of a wound. Little droplets fell to the floor despite her efforts, marking her path to the counter.  

"Holy shit!" you breathed out, eyes probably wide as saucers. You continued dumbly, "I think you need to see a doctor."

An understatement, to be sure. If her sickly pale complexion was anything to go by, she was sure to keel over sooner rather than later.

The redhead shook her head determinedly, a pain-stricken look on her face.  

"No doctor. No hospital. Just need some medical supplies," her remark was accompanied by her slamming crumpled dollar bills on the counter.

"O-kay," you said slowly, leaving the counter and taking her by the elbow, "I'll get you your supplies, but you seriously need to sit down."  

You opened the door to the break room, guiding her to a chair that she more or less collapsed onto. She winced in pain, and you stayed a moment to make sure she was all set before hurrying back out. In a frenzy, you jogged along the shelves, mentally trying to create a list of supplies she could need. Rubbing alcohol, a first aid kit, scissors, tweezers. You also grabbed some painkillers and a bottle of water on your way back.  

Dumping all the supplies on the round wooden lunch table, you watched her nervously as she started to cut off parts of her shirt to get better access to the wound. Almost instinctively, you grabbed the trash can holding it out for her to dump the blood-soaked fabric into.  

"Water," she croaked out in between painful gasps, "Need to…rinse the wound." 

Mutely, you nodded. Rummaging through the cabinet of the small old-fashioned kitchen counter until you found a big bowl and filled it up. Dipping a towel into the lukewarm water, you knelt in front of the woman.  

"Let me do it. You need to save your strength."

She looked like she wanted to object, but, in the end, she gave you a curt nod. There was a lot of blood. You did your best not to irritate the wound too much. By the time you were finished, the water itself was a deep crimson. She had closed her eyes, sweat covering her brow. She grabbed you by the sleeve of your shirt when you tried to stand up, holding you in place.  

"Now with alcohol," she told you. Your eyes flickered to the bottle on the table.

You hesitate. Swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Are you sure?"

"Do it," the redhead commanded, eyes still closed. She let go of your arm then, returning hers to the armrest of the chair. Her fingers left behind bloody prints.  

You obeyed her order, wincing along with her in sympathy as you pressed the alcohol-drenched cloth to her wound. You could only imagine how much it must sting. Her grip on the armrests tightened until her knuckles turned white. When you were done, she inspected the wound, eyes narrowed to see in the dim light of the fluorescent lamps. A long silence stretched between you two. She looked up, meeting your gaze for the first time. Her eyes were a mix of greens with little specks of grey thrown in. Under different circumstances, you might have admired them a little longer. They were quite beautiful.

"Can you sew?"  

You nod slowly, sensing where she was going with this and not liking it one bit.  

It took a while to find sewing supplies. Taking deep breaths, you willed your hands to stop shaking and followed her murmured instructions. Put on latex gloves, sterilize the needle and thread. She sounded very calm as she explained how to make the first stitch, didn't even flinch when the needle pricked her skin. It helped calm you down a little.  

By the time you cut off the excess thread, you found yourself unable to recall doing any of the other stitches. The rush of the moment made the procedure seem to pass faster than it probably did in reality. She eyed your handiwork for a moment before giving a small nod of approval, a faint, exhausted smile tugging at her lips.  

“Not bad for a rookie.”  

“Thanks,” you breathed out, already preoccupied with sifting through the first aid kit.

Wrapping the wound was much more your forte. The redhead leaned back in the chair once you finished, washing some painkillers down with a big gulp from the water bottle. With the adrenaline wearing down, you felt as exhausted as she looked. Leaning back against the table leg, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your body relaxing as your apprehension lessened little by little.

You took a couple of moments to mentally catch up to what just happened, processing the sheer craziness of it all. Your brain was brimming with questions. Who was she?  Who hurt her? Why didn’t she get professional help? They were on the tip of your tongue. But the woman passed out before you had the chance to ask her anything.  

With tremulous hands, you cleaned the store for the second time that evening, wiping up blood from the floor, the chair, and the table. You discarded the rags with the rest of the used supplies. All the while, you checked on her multiple times, unable to shake the fear she might die right then and there. She looked unnaturally pale, but her pulse continued to drum rhythmically, her chest kept rising and falling with every breath she took.  

What now? Should you call the cops? The hospital? She seemed pretty set on not getting any authorities involved. Perhaps with good reason?  

You resolved to find out tomorrow, hoping you would not grow to regret it. Slinging one of her arms over your shoulder, you lifted her up and carried her bridal style, mindful of her injury. She wasn't too heavy, but you still were glad you had had the foresight to park your car nearby. After making sure she was safely strapped into the passenger seat, you went back and finally closed up the shop.

________________________________________________________________

The next morning, you were woken up by some clattering sounds coming from your living room. With a groan, you forced yourself out of your bed and stumbled through the door into the next room. The redhead was walking around in the dim light, rummaging through your drawers and dropping things left and right. You watched, for a moment, too perplexed to say anything as you rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“Shouldn’t you be resting or something?” you ask, voice rough from sleep. It was still way too early to be awake. You had thought the pain killers would help her sleep for a couple of hours more. Looks like you were wrong.

“Later,” she muttered just loud enough for you to hear. Crouching down, she opened the bottom drawer of the tv cabinet and pulled out some DVDs you had stored there, only pausing to look at the title of one of them with a smirk.

“Is this not a kids' movie?”

You had no idea what she was looking at, but you crossed your arms, feeling a bit offended anyway. Blame your lack of sleep for making you a little sensitive.

“Do you make it a habit to judge the movie taste of people who were gracious enough to let you stay in their home overnight?”

The woman didn’t answer verbally, just put the movie back and closed the drawer again. She turned to face you, her expression turning serious all of a sudden as if only now remembering where she was and how she got here in the first place. She looked apprehensive, taking a couple of steps in your direction.

“Does anyone else know I’m here?” her voice conveyed a sense of urgency, eyes staring into yours imploringly. Confused, you just shook your head. 

Her shoulders relaxed a little.

“Good,” she nodded, her attention already returning to her little scavenger hunt.

The redhead walked across the room, sifting through your kitchen cabinet next.

You sighed, picking up a couple of things she had knocked over in the living room and putting them back in their proper place. Every few seconds, you would glance at her from afar. She was still wearing the outfit she had on when she came into the drugstore. With her unconscious, you hadn’t seen any way of getting her into some new clothes, at least not without possibly irritating her wound or waking her up. She could surely use something clean to wear. Her current attire was dirtied and bloody, not to mention that her shirt now looked like a makeshift crop top since she had cut off parts of it last night.

“You know, if you just told me what you’re looking for you wouldn’t have to make such a mess of my apartment,” you winced as one of your spice shakers fell out of the cupboard and landed on the stove just as you finished speaking. Luckily, nothing broke.

The woman paused mid-motion, still on her tiptoes, body halfway turned towards you.  

“A radio. An old one preferably.”

Frowning, you picked up and folded the blanket she had discarded on the floor in front of your couch.  

“What for?”

The redhead eyed you for a moment, hesitant and unsure whether you could be trusted. In the end, she kept quiet, ruling against explaining herself. You reluctantly accepted her decision, tossing the folded blanket back on the couch cushion in resignation.

“I should have an old radio alarm clock somewhere in my wardrobe. Will that do?”  

It took you a couple of minutes to find the old thing, hidden away in the very back of your closet, underneath some clothes you hadn’t worn in forever. When you returned to the living room, your visitor was leaning against the kitchen isle, nibbling on one of your pop tarts which she abandoned as soon as she saw you. Eagerly she took the alarm clock off your hands, acknowledging you with a grateful nod. The redhead sat down on the couch, plugging the device into the closest outlet. 

You more or less kept an eye on her while you made yourself some coffee, but you had no idea what she was doing. To you, it looked like she was just fiddling with the controls, only static and a couple of high-pitched sounds filling the living room. It was grating on your nerves, but you made no comment. By the time she finished and turned the radio off again, you were already on your second cup.  

“Are you expecting any visitors in the next couple of days?” she asked casually, sidling up next to you in the kitchen.

 You raised an eyebrow, placing your empty cup in the sink.

“No. Why?”

“I need a place to lay low until Tuesday.”  

“Lay low?” you parroted, “What for? Who are you hiding from?”

Subconsciously, she glanced down at her bandaged wound, and you followed her gaze, slow realization coming over you.  

“Did they do that to you? Did they hurt you?” you asked more softly. She only shook her head in confirmation, “Then why not just go to the police? I’m sure they can help you better than I c-"  

“No,” she cut you off immediately, gripping your wrists tightly in both her hands as if to physically keep you from taking your phone and calling the cops. This only made you grow more concerned.

“No. We can’t go to the police. It’s not safe,” she loosened her grip on you a little.

 Your eyebrows were drawn together as you thought about what she said.

“Why would it not be safe? Unless...,” you swallowed as a possibility crossed your mind, “Are you in trouble? Did you do something illegal?”  

When she didn’t immediatley deny your statement, you started to jump to conclusions, your voice rising with panic.

“Oh, shit! You did. What was it? Were you in a fight? Did you kill someone? Holy shi- Does helping you make me an accomplice? Am I harboring a criminal in my ho-”

She cut off your rant by slapping a hand over your mouth, thus muffling your words.

“Be quiet, your neighbors might hear,” she hissed, gaze darting to the door, almost like she expected someone to burst through it. 

Your eyes were wide in fear, but you listened to her, your heart racing. She slowly removed her hand, giving you a warning look as though she feared you would start talking again. You didn’t.

“I’m not a criminal,” she told you earnestly, “I am, however, on the run, so I would appreciate your discretion.”

“On the run from whom?”

The question was no more than a whisper, too scared to raise the volume of your voice. She held your gaze for a moment before shaking her head.

“I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“Classified,” you repeated, incredulous, “So let me get this straight. You show up at my job, bleeding all over the place and telling me not to call the authorities. I help you out, let you crash at my place and you, in return, wake me up at an ungodly hour, make a big mess of my living room, imply that you might have done something illegal, and expect me to let you stay here until Tuesday without getting any information whatsoever?”  

“I know this isn’t fair...,” she admitted, and you laugh humorlessly.

“Not fair? I would be crazy to agree without at least having an idea what I’m getting myself into.”

The redhead nodded in agreement, looking away guiltily, teeth biting down on her lips. She seemed genuinely beat down, something even you, as a stranger, could tell was foreign to her. Oddly enough, you felt bad, although you knew, realistically, that you had done nothing wrong.

You let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Curse your empathetic heart.

“Three conditions,” you conceded, making her look at you in surprise. Holding up a finger, you started your list.  

“One. No more throwing my stuff around. If you need something, ask. I don’t want to have to clean up after you.”  

She nods, having the decency to actually look sorry this time. You put up a second finger.

“Two. You tell me your name. Doesn’t have to be your full name or even your real name if that’s a secret or whatever," you added with an indifferent shrug, "I just want something other to call you than ‘hey you’.”

“What’s the third condition?” she prompted, not commenting on the second one.

“You promise me that you’re not the bad guy in this situation and that helping you won’t land me in trouble somehow.”  

The redhead cocked her head to the side, an almost fascinated expression on her face.

“How would you know I’m telling the truth?”

“I don’t,” you countered without hesitation, “I’m just gonna have to trust your word here. Just as you will have to trust mine that I’ll keep your presence here a secret.”  

For a moment, she regarded you with some indescribable emotion on her face before nodding in concession. Letting go of the one wrist she was still holding, she took a step back. Caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even realized how close you were standing. Thinking about it now made your face heat up for some reason. The redhead raised one hand as though she was about to take an official oath. She held your gaze unwaveringly as she spoke.

“I promise you, that I will not make a mess in your home anymore. And I solemnly swear that you won’t get in trouble for helping me in any way whatsoever.”

Something about her demeanor told you she wasn’t lying. You shake your head satisfied, a small but relieved smile taking over, some of the tension and apprehension leaving your body. She smiled tentatively in return, extending her hand to you in greeting.

“The name’s Natasha.”

Glancing at her proffered hand, you took it and gave it a small shake.

“Nice to officially meet you, Natasha.”

[bestintheparsec]

As Does the Snow

Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You and your neighbor, Frankie, get snowed in together. 

A/N: I wrote this down when the power was out while I was—you guessed it—snowed in. Nothing too deep/angsty in this (for once), just softness. Thank you for reading and I hope you like it!

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: none, some obvious tropes (snowed in, there was only one bed)

*Masterlist pinned to my page

~

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, prompting you to drop the pile of clothes you’re holding to answer it.

“Hey, Santi,” you answer the familiar friendly voice on the other end.

“You lose power yet?” he asks, slight concern in his tone.

“Just about an hour ago,” you reply, peering out the window. The sun’s still out, so you’ll be okay for a few more hours until it sets.

You’d all been expecting the power to go out, of course. The news has been tracking a seemingly out-of-nowhere snow storm that’s been headed your way, starting its impact a few hours earlier. You hadn’t expected to lose power so soon, though—it usually takes a lot more ice or wind to damage the lines. You’ve been preparing as best as you can for the cold nights ahead. With the lack of heat and power, it was bound to be a long night or two.

“You have everything you need, right?” he asks after a short silence. Santi and the other guys, most of them, live closer to the city and away from the countryside that you'd chosen to live in. With the way the roads are, everyone's been warned not to drive if possible. Not that there’s anywhere to go.

“Yeah, I always do—”

“Listen, I was wondering if you could go stay with Frankie during this whole thing,” he chimes in.

Frankie lives across the street from you—you’ve been good friends with him ever since you moved in years ago, even becoming a part of his group of ex-military friends when he introduced you to them, and you'd fit in like you’d always belonged there. It’s perfectly reasonable that Santi would ask you to go stay with your friend to hunker down during a storm. You would all stay with each other if you could, but seeing as that’s impossible and you and Frankie only have each other right now…yes, completely reasonable.

Fuck, who are you kidding?

What seems like a long time ago, you realized you had feelings for Frankie. And, by some luck—or not—you found out they were reciprocated.

But things don’t always work out the way you want them to; hell, it seems like things never do. At the end of the day, you both had wanted to pursue something more with each other, but life got in the way, just as it often does. You both had a lot going on in your lives back then, things you had to deal with and sort out alone. Ultimately—awkward conversations and deep talks and all—you’d both decided it was best if you simply stayed friends, lest things become overcomplicated.

And so you did. Despite this small history, things haven't really been awkward since then. He’s still a good friend to you, one of your best friends, really, and the subject hasn’t been mentioned again ever since.

Only, you haven’t really moved on. You haven’t been much good at leaving the feelings behind you, either. At first you just kept shoving them away, trying to convince yourself that you felt nothing at all whenever you were with him, nothing except friendly love for one of your best friends. But despite your best attempts not to, you found yourself slowly falling more for him. Being close to him for this long has made it even harder for you to move past it.

Not that you've addressed any of this again.

Had you sorted out the things you were dealing with back then? Maybe. But you’d both decided on what was best, years ago, and given that Frankie hasn’t brought it up again since, it’s likely he wants to keep things that way. Time tends to help some people to move on, where it drives the knife in deeper for others. Frankie’s been on plenty of dates since then, even a relationship or two. So you know you were probably just a momentary interlude in his love life, someone he stopped thinking about in that way long before you could ever even think about moving on. You're nothing more than a good friend to him now. And so you've kept your continued feelings for him to yourself, allowing them to thinly layer your friendship like a light dusting of sugar that’s never quite sweet enough to stand on its own.

But the thought of sheltering with him for a few days? You're not sure if you can keep your feelings contained if you're with him for that long and with that much free time to get lost in your thoughts. But given the seriousness of the storm, you were both bound to end up at one or the other's place, anyways.

You must have been silent for a little too long, because Santi speaks again, breaking your thoughts. “You can watch over each other, that sort of thing. Besides, you know how he can be…” he trails off, waiting for you to answer.

“I—yeah, I’ll go over there,” you finally agree, nodding to yourself. “I was going to check up on him eventually, anyways. I’ll go over as soon as I finish up what I’m doing.”

“Sounds good—let us know if you run into any trouble. We’ll find a way over there if we need to.”

You mutter a quick thanks and remind them to stay safe before hanging up, tossing your phone onto the couch with a resigned sigh. Moments later you pick it up again, quickly sending a text to Frankie to ask him if it’s alright for you both to bunker together for the night. Which he quickly agrees to, of course—you’ve spent many evenings over at his place, or his at yours.

Really, you don’t know why your brain’s suddenly trying to make this weird for you. You’ll bring some snacks and blankets, and it’ll be just like any other Friday night you’ve spent with him. Not weird. There’s nothing there (at least on his end) for you to feel awkward about.

You shake your head and finish your emergency preparations, trying to be done with it before it gets dark so you can head over to Frankie’s.

~

Exhaling deeply first, you ring Frankie’s doorbell.

“Coming!” His deep voice calls from inside.

You shove your hands into your pockets then change your mind, moving them to grip anxiously onto the straps of your backpack. Another few moments pass before you hear Frankie trod to the door. He answers it with a soft smile plastered on his face, the same one he uses every time he greets you. Immediately taking the bag you’re carrying off your arm, he beckons you inside and you follow, shrugging off your backpack.

"Did you need help with anything?" You ask, dropping your bag onto the ground and looking around the darkened place. The windows are covered, there's flashlights and candles out on the table, and a couple cases of water are stacked in the kitchen.

He’s layered up in clothing just like you are—a familiar flannel button-up peeking out from under his jacket. His hair is messy like he’s been running around all day, which he probably has been from the looks of it. If you had to describe it, he looks like...home.

Stop it, you mentally chastise yourself.

“Nah, I’m just making some final tweaks,” he remarks, walking over to pull the living room curtains shut. “The house is warm enough for now, but it won’t be long before it starts feeling like the inside of a fridge in here.”

He turns back to face you with a different sort of smile on his lips, a gentle expression you can’t quite make out.

Unbeknownst to you, Frankie’s been in deep for you, too. He knows you'd both agreed not to date, but over time he's come to greatly regret that decision. It was the right one at the time, but he can't help but wish things had gone a little differently. There’s no one he’d rather be around, and any and all dates he’s been on over the years have failed for the same reason—they’re not you. They could never be you.

Chances come and go, and his has gone. In more ways than one you’re a light in his life, someone he couldn’t ever deserve, and somehow he’s lucky enough to have you in his life at all—even if it’s just as friends. If he’s a better person now, a lot of it’s because you’ve been there to pick up the pieces, the same way he does and will always do for you without a second thought.

But something you can’t help him with is the fact that he’s fallen for you, hard, long after you’d both agreed to just be friends. And he keeps on falling.

He knows people change their mind all the time, but he’s been unwilling and unable to bring it up again with you. For all he knows, that agreement had just been your gentle way of telling him “it’s never going to happen.” He doesn't want to risk scaring you off and losing one of the best people in his life.

Frankie comes back to reality, watching you smooth out the front of your shirt.

“Okay, well, I brought some of my blankets in case we need to pile them up…” you say, pointing to the large bag you brought. “And since your stove is electric, it looks like we’ll be eating snacks for dinner.”

“That’s bold of you to assume,” he retorts, walking over to the kitchen. With a silly gesture, he proudly uncovers a large dish full of one of your favorites.

Frankie is certainly no chef, but he can put together a dish or two, even going out of his way to learn how to make the things that you both love. He puts a hand on his hip, amused by the surprised look on your face. “I made it before the power went out. They did teach us some things about preparation in the military, you know,” he teases, dimple on full display.

“And here I was packing junk food and sandwiches, like a loser,” you jest, grinning back at him. Frankie somehow always manages to make your life a little better. He beams and your chest constricts at the sight.

"Oh, we'll definitely need those for later," he reassures you with a grin. "If the guys were here that'd all be gone before the worst of the storm even hits," he adds, making you laugh.

Some of your favorite nights with Frankie are the ones that are completely uneventful, ones where you relax after a long day of work and binge your favorite snacks while watching some crappy movie on the couch. Then again, it's always the little things that make you happy when it comes to him.

~

Once you've had your dinner you both get comfortable next to each other on the couch, chatting about life and nothing in particular, the way you often do—minus the lack of electricity and a mostly dark room that’s barely lit up by a couple of small camping lights Frankie has. No doubt the other guys would make things a lot more chaotically entertaining if they were all here, but you’re happy it’s just the two of you now—even if it does make it harder for you to think straight at the moment.

Frankie says something that makes you chuckle and you look up at him, noting the delicate smile on his lips and the way it almost balances out the tired lines under his eyes.  He meets your eyes, and if he looks like he wants to say something else, it's probably only in your mind because he doesn't.

The wind outside makes itself known, rattling the windows in its wake. You're suddenly grateful you'd agreed to come and stay with Frankie. Although you’re lucky to have a shelter, these kinds of storms are best when you don't have to ride them out alone.

You also become hyper-aware of how intimate the moments you share with Frankie are. At the end of the day, you're glad he's in your life, even if it's not the way the younger version of you wanted. You still have him and he has you, and that's really more than you could ever ask for.

A chill suddenly makes its way through you.

"Are you shivering?" Frankie stops talking mid-thought to ask you.

"What? No, I—" He cuts you off with a chuckle and shakes his head, reaching down into your bag. With a quick movement he pulls a beanie on over your head, purposely tugging it past your eyes as you laugh and playfully smack his hand away.

"Watch yourself, Morales," you attempt to glare at him as you smooth down your hair, but fail to contain your smile when you see that goofy twinkle in his eyes.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” he concedes and raises his hands in mock surrender. The grin is still on his face as he moves to fix the beanie on your forehead. Another quiet chuckle escapes his lips until his fingers move away from your forehead, accidentally grazing along your cheek.

It’s not the chill that makes you both fall abruptly silent.

It’s almost as if the wind wiped the grins off your faces as Frankie looks into your eyes with an intense gaze. His hand still hovers along your cheek, neither of you seeming able to move. You’re suddenly grateful that it’s impossible for him to hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears right now. Your imagination must be getting the better of you again, because you almost believe that there’s something wistful about the look on his face.

But just like that, he drops his hand and you both avert your eyes.

“It’s, um...getting late,” you break the silence. “We better get settled before it really starts getting cold in here.”

Frankie clears his throat, nodding in agreement and standing to pile some blankets onto the couch.

“What are you doing?” you ask him.

“Um...you know I don’t have the guest room set up. There’s just the bed in my room. You go get cozy, I’ll take the couch.”

"What? I'm not gonna steal your bed, Fr—"

“And I'm not going to have you uncomfortable in my house,” he brushes you off with a wave of the hand. “It's fine, querida, really. You know I've knocked out on this couch more times than I can count." Your chest warms at the sound of his pet name for you. It's harmless, just something he's always called you. But for some reason it makes your face warm to hear it this time.

“No, I mean...isn’t it better if we share? I think the whole point is to keep our bodies warm. It’s easier to do that if we’re in one room.”

He finally meets your eyes again, holding your gaze as though there's more than one thing on his mind, then runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

“I...Are you sure? I really don’t have any problem with—”

You smile softly at him, trying to hide any indication of awkwardness in your tone. “Yes, Frankie, it’s fine. Really. Besides, we can stack all our blankets together this way.”

He smiles back. “I have a big, fluffy one we can use, too.”

~

All the remaining heat in the house has definitely dissipated now, leaving behind a frigid chill. It's bearable for the time being, but leaves your skin covered in goosebumps anytime you expose so much as a sliver of skin to the air. The last time you checked, the snow had already made a significant cushion to the ground outside, and was still going strong.

You've been in bed for an hour or two, huddled into a ball underneath several layers of blankets and refusing to move because it only makes you colder to shift the air around.

Frankie's asleep next to you—you assume he's asleep, anyways. Neither of you have said a word in a while, and with the pattering sounds of snow falling outside, you're getting drowsy yourself. Still, you haven't been able to fall asleep, not even when you jam your eyes shut. It's too cold, for one thing, and for another, it's difficult to ignore the fact that he is right next to you. It's a big bed and there's a decent space between you, but still.

You shift positions yet again, trying to wrap yourself tighter in your section of the blankets. You move to readjust one of the blankets that's gotten pushed away, accidentally bumping Frankie's arm in the process. You grimace, hoping you didn't wake him.

"Your hand is like ice," Frankie's quiet voice suddenly fills the room.

"Oh—Sorry. I thought you were asleep," you mutter back, your voice muffled by the blankets.

"No. It's hard enough for me to sleep even when there's not a historic snowstorm going on." He jokes, though you know it goes deeper than that for him.

Not really knowing how to respond, you remain silent. Rolling onto your side facing away from him, you tuck yourself further into the blankets before resolving to pull them up and over your head entirely.

Frankie's soft laugh rumbles next to you. "Seriously, your skin is frozen," he tells you. “You’re like the opposite of a space heater right now,” he chuckles and you can hear the grin on his face.

You push the blanket off your face, feigning a groan. “Freezing weather and a lack of heat lends to poor circulation, Francisco.”

"I know, I just…maybe it would…it might be warmer if we slept closer together." His voice is so soft that you can’t help but think how nice it would be to fall asleep to the sound of it every night.

When you don’t answer right away he quickly adds, “Or not—I wasn’t trying to...I didn’t mean—Sorry.” Frankie shuffles uncomfortably under the covers.

“No, you’re right,” you murmur hesitantly, barely louder than a whisper. “It...would probably help.”

A beat of silence.

Then you hear Frankie gently move his pillow over towards you, scooting himself in until you can feel his warmth against you. He doesn’t move again at first, you only feel his chest rising and falling against your back. But ever so slowly, he wraps an arm over you, the weight of him sturdy and comforting. You can tell he’s tense—hesitant—until you place your own hand on his, holding him closer to you. Feeling you make yourself comfortable must put him at ease, and he relaxes around you. Neither of you say a word, just lay there sharing each other’s warmth.

You’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder on some late nights on the couch before—things two normal, friendly people do, right? But you’ve never let yourself think too much about it. You can hardly help it now, reveling in the way you feel safe in his arms, fitting perfectly along the curve of his body. You are warmer, although some of it may be because of the way your pulse is just a little bit quickened. You wouldn't mind if you had to stay like this forever.

Frankie quietly exhales, his breath warm against the back of your hair. “Better?” he finally speaks, his voice gravelly and hushed, not much louder than the sound of snow hitting the window.

A pause. “Yeah.”

You feel him relax even more, burying his cheek a little more into the space above your shoulders. “Let’s try to sleep, then, querida.”

And just like that, Frankie Morales manages to make you fall a little bit more in love with him.

It’s then that you realize—it’s always been simple with him. Everything is always...easy with him. Nothing’s overcomplicated or messy; it’s just you and Frankie. It’s what drew you to him first, long ago. It wasn’t the outspoken openness that that others had, nor the confident resolve, but the quiet way he cares for you. The way he manages to always make you laugh, even at the times when it’s almost impossible to. The way he makes you feel so whole that you forget there was ever anything missing in the first place. That’s how he found his way, permanently, into your heart.

For Frankie, it’s always been you. You’re a grounding presence to him, someone who’s made him familiar with peace again over the years.

He lies there listening to the sounds of your breathing, sure that you’re finally fast asleep. He feels sleep coming over himself, too. He knows he’ll sleep a little easier tonight with you. He’ll weather anything when it comes to you. That’s how he knows, and convinces himself that once this storm business is over, he’ll tell you. For now, he lets himself follow you into slumber. His last conscious thoughts are of how he wouldn't mind having you in his arms like this every night, and if it weren't for your warmth lulling him to sleep, he might've confessed to you right then and there.

 ~

Permanent tags: @immundusspiritu @aeryntheofficial @i-like-those-odds @padlilli @hail-doodles @hiscyarika @taman-a @electricprincess888 @max--phillips @myrin1234 @aloneontheoutside @pascalisthepunkest @ah-callie @fleurdemiel145 @katialvi @murdermewithbooks @pisss-offf-ghostt​ @kayebede @lamnothome @fan-g0rl @lokiaddicted @mrsdaamneron​ @poedaneron​ @wolfshifter4life @dindjarindiaries​ @rociomz​ @opheliaelysia​ @dyn-djarin​ @randomness501​ @unsaidsunset​ @hayley-the-comet​ @mrsparknuts​ @exy-issexy​ @palalover​ @forever-rogue​ @adikaofmandalore​ @kaetastic​ @zannemes​ @mstgsmy​ @wille-zarr​ @arabellathorne @f0rever15elf​ @lv7867​ @stilllivindue2spite​ @urbankaite2​

[thotsforvillainrights]

Ok! Here it is! Apologies if it's not that good. First time writing for him also I wrote reader as fem so I hope that's ok.

****************************************

If someone had told him a couple months ago that he would fall in love with the MOST...most OPPOSITE girl from him that had ever graced Deternat City...He'd have told you to never speak such nonsense to him again, probably would have scoffed, told them they were insane, and dismissed it from memory bank forever. Hell. He probably would've laughed at them too just for good measure. Him, a proud high ranking member of liberation, with a girl like Y/n?? HA! What nonsense...

Or was it?

Not to him right now it wasn't as she kissed him and held his hands and he found himself not fighting against it. What was wrong with him!?

It felt like a two part problem in his mind. On one hand it was as if he was betraying his loyalty to his army and everything that it stood for, for falling for a girl so easily. While on the other hand it was a betrayal of his own emotions for denying his affection for her in the first place. He grew weaker by the day, losing sleep over his inner turmoil. It wasn't long before people started to notice, dark circles appearing under his eyes and his usual scowl deepening as his mood worsened. No one dared to actually ask him what was the matter, but he could feel their concerned stares and worried glances. Even so, he held out, pushing thoughts of her away as he tried to go on with his life. Just ignore her, he told himself. He would feel better once he forgot about her. But no matter what she wouldn't leave his mind or him alone. Oh WHY did you have to plague his existence. He once tried yelling at her to just GO AWAY!! To leave him alone because she didn't need to be anywhere near him....It ended up with him breaking down in the middle of his office crying and all those sleepless nights catching up to him finally. His progress was slipping, he was acting like a baby, and it was ALL her fault. She wouldn't listen and go away like some stalker. After that he had passed out from his yelling fit and woken up in the on sight nurses office due to exhaustion.....And to HER crying and holding his hand. Ironic wasn't it.

And he made a noble effort to ever forget about that incident, but it was all for naught.

Tomoyasu reached his tipping point about a month into his rejection to the monster. He was exhausted, eyes sore and bloodshot, and his progress still wavering concerning all his superiors. Lost in his thoughts on the way to lunch, he heard a single word. His name. That made him stop in his tracks. His head snapping up in recognition, eyes widening. No! Not her! Not now! The last thing he wanted was the she demon to back him against the wall and talk her pretty little head off. He felt like he was suffocating. He barely slept for days. He couldn't take it- The voices were becoming so much his head was going to explode-

"Mr. Chikazoku? You don't look so good."

That was the last thing he heard before he passed out for a second time that month. She had carried him. CARRIED HIM!! HIM!! All the way back to their nurse filled with worry. Don't ask him why she didn't just take him to the nurse and just leave him there. If the Tomoyasu 'Skeptic" Chikazoku was just found passed out against the hallway's wall it would've been less humiliating than a girl to carry him all the way to his bed where he remained when he woke up and numbly laid there as she went off chattering again. (Nevermind how she managed to even do it anyways with his heavier build-) He didn't know what he was thinking when he suddenly exploded at her letting everything out. Maybe it was his frustration? The stress and strain he was feeling from her relentless presence? Maybe the days of little to no sleep? His mind zoned out as he mindlessly yelled at her but he certainly wasn't expecting it to end up with her kissing him and him being compliant to her affections. Leaning into her warmth and all around easing the stress he was always. Good grief what did he say? At one point she pulled away and he attempted to kiss her again which ended embarrassingly thanks to her lesser height which ended up with himself missing her lips and pecking her jawline which sent her beautiful face into giggles and the soft hands cupping his already crying and red face rubbed away at the stressful tears.

"You shouldn't beat yourself over like a little crush. I would've been happy to know either way.Oh. Please don't cry."

He wasn't sure why he felt so assured or comforted right now, but for now he leaned into those soft hands holding him up with the pretty angelic face of his relief.

I want to put this on paper and carry it around in a little locket close to my heart😭

[explosionshark]

3, 15, 55! and also please identify the most gothic powerful vampire song on it. the people need to know

edited to do this GAME RIGHT bc i forgot it was about lyrics :')

3. Direction by Mat Kerekes (feat. Anthony Green) - so this is a track off the debut solo album of Mat Kerekes, singer of beloved emo band Citizen. The guest vocals are by Anthony Green of Circa Survive. But what I really wanna talk about is the production, bc this is the first record I listened to that really made me aware of Will Yip. This is an acoustic record, really stripped down and organic sounding, and Kerekes plays all the music except for some percussion provided by Yip - it all sounds so bright and airy. The guitar tone has this gorgeous twangy pop, the percussion sounds like someone slapping a pattern out right next to your ear. Admittedly, this is probably so high up on the list bc it was on a playlist i made when i went insane and wrote a 90k word fanfic earlier this year, but still - love this song, love this record. The Anthony Green verse at the end is so dramatic and good "I could be anything that you wanted / I wouldn't mind if you handed me a loaded gun / Crack a smile while you turn the safety off / I'll destroy anything that you want me to / Help me try and understand what you're going through"

15. Ladders of Supremacy by Coheed & Cambria - I'm not here to convince anyone to listen to Coheed bc I don't think anyone should. They just happen to be my favorite band (derogatory). However, in their extensive catalogue this track still manages to stand out - by being the exact thing they do really, really well. It literally always works on me. I'd consider this song the first part of a three part suite that closes out the record (a concept album, per usual). There's an incredibly sexy bass line on this song, a great chorus, kinda filthy bluesy guitar work, and a shockingly jazzy drum performance from Josh Eppard. It's just peak Coheed prog bullshit and I'm so weak to it. So, this Coheed album is the second part of a record that came out in 2019 and it's about a kid who uhh perceives all of time at once? And also his parents who are sci-fi bank robbers/theater performers? Who the fuck cares. "Stay down, boy, see, ya got clowned, boy" is Typical Claudio Nonsensery but the delivery is so fun. Down BWAAH see ya got clowned BWAAAH

55. Wear U Down by Teenage Wrist - I Am Not Immune To Shoegazey Alt Rock. Actually I was surprised tracks off this record weren't higher in my play count this year, bc I feel like I listened to it a lot? I don't have as much to say about this - great fuzzy guitars, love the snare tone. "I'll wear you down, down down" is not a very articulate or impressive chorus, but it sure is fun to sing along with in the car. There's a great lyrical book end in the first verse and the last that goes "Stomp me out / I'm burning red but now I'm done" and then later "Stomp me out / Before I burn another hole" and who among us hasn't poorly ashed a cigarette and found this relatable?

out of these three songs I'd say the biggest gothic powerful vampire energy is probably teenage wrist. but that's grading on hard curve.

out of my whole top 100, biggest gothic powerful vampire energy is When Will God's Work Be Done by Unto Others. This is a GREAT song - big Sisters of Mercy But Heavier vibes. Very goth adjacent imo. This vocalist is incredible. He makes all kinds of great noises - OUGHHHH! HUAAGHH! AUUH! GAUGHDD! WHEN WILL GOD'S WORK BE DONE! Anyway very vampy lyrics + a great evil laugh at the end - "Working all night in the burning dark" / "When a man dies, I feel alive" / "Death, such sweet release" / "Make sure the first bite is the last bite" - yeah! easy win.

[forbidding-souda]

Hello! Idk of someone has already done this but could you whip up headcanons of rantaro taking care of his lover who is pregnant? 👉👈

Rantarou Amami taking care of a pregnant S/O

i'll just say i spelt pregnant wrong when i first wrote this out. i also know nothing about pregnancy so uhh vagina ownwers ur allowed to laugh at this

IN THE MAKING OF THIS I LEARNED FROM MY SERVER (JOIN IT HAHA) THAT PERIOD HAVERS JUST HAVE HEATING PADS? LIKE IN THEIR HOUSE? I JUST LEARNED WHAT A HEATING PAD IS ANYWAY

-Mod Souda

❤ Massages. He is good at massages, and even if he wasn't, he would be a quick learner. You always find some place in your body that's in pain and he is quick to try and relieve you from it. Some parts of his hands have started to gain more tough skin because of how often he uses it.

❤ He will listen to you complain, no matter how trivial or how extreme, because he wants you to know that he will be here for you. When someone is being annoying, he wants to hear all about it. When you dropped something and had a hard time picking it up without him, he will apologize and kiss your forehead. He is just super gentle with you (which can get somewhat irritating, depending on your mood).

❤ He probably has apps to track the progress, and he bought books that are made for documenting things like the names you're choosing and pictures of the bump.

❤ When you had first told him you were pregnant, he smiled wider than you had ever seen him smile. It only lasted a few seconds before his lips returned to that small smile he always gives you.

❤ Heating pad? Heating pad. If you fall asleep with it, he is going to go speed mode and wake you up like "the box said you're not allowed to do that."

❤ He literally reads the instructions on like everything just to make sure you both are doing things correctly.

❤ Sometimes, he won't know what to do when you talk about your cravings, so he will just buy you candy and keep it in your dresser for you to find. Almost like a present.

❤ Brings home food when he comes home from work (work?) every day. No cooking needed! Unless you like his cooking... then he will cook for you.

❤ When he does cook for you, he tries to make it healthy. He will make things with a lot of protein and lots of vegetables. Hope you like that stuff! You have candy in your drawer if you don't want to eat it!

❤ I can see him not really caring for baby names. Whatever you want - that's fine with him.

❤ Whenever you wake up, he will have his arms around you, or his hand on your hair (often awkward)

❤ He will pretend to be tired throughout the day while he gets your pillows sorted, asking you to join him. It's his diabolical plan to get you to go to bed - which works, just because you like snuggling on him.

❤ He will also make you sit down on the couch, put on your shoes, lift you off by both of your hands and make you go on walks with him. He loves exploring outside of the neighborhood - even if he has multiple times before. Plus, he thinks the walking is good for you. Though you complain about your back or your feet, he knows he can just massage them when the two of you get home. This is his bonding time.

❤ He still lets you do chores around the house like laundry or the dishes. He may be nice to you but he's not going to do everything. You still have two feet, and in this house, you both are equal!

❤ No sushi for you. He googled that and found it out. Now, he is mildly cautious about what you consume. He wants the baby to be healthy but he is not too worried about controlling what you eat. It's really not that deep and he understands that.

❤ He likes to put his hands on your stomach, but sometimes he doesn't warn you first, and it scares the shit out of you.

❤ Like you will be doing the dishes and you feel his big hands pressing against your belly and your body just jolts.

❤ He laughs into the back of your head.

[r--u--min3]

l'amour de ma vie

Pure fluff oh my god I hate this. Basically this is one of my very traumatized gay ocs, of whom I've decided to pair with my favorite British cigarette, Gareth Emerson bc he's babygirl. This is fluff for now but feel free to request angst and/or smut although angst is my favorite to write. I can go into their story a little bit later but all you need to know for now is they're a mentally ill teen that's nonbinary in the 80s which causes a lot of insecurity for them because they managed to fall for the gay kid and they had the misfortune of being born as a girl.

Established relationship

No triggers for this one

"Dude, what do you mean it's nothing? That's so cool!" Gareth hollered, grinning at his partner as they casually decided to mention the fact they know a few phrases in French. "It's just a few...like really lovey dovey ones." Atlas mumbled, face glowing a bright shade of red as they remembered why they learned the phrases in the first place.

Atlas Grove sat patiently on the calm patio of the Emerson home, waiting for Gareth to return with snacks from the store as they mindlessly wrote anything and everything in their notebook. Footsteps trailed behind them, though audibly not Gareth's, it was his mom. Eleanor Emerson wasn't a stranger to seeing Atlas appear in her home, it wasn't something for her to complain about either, Atlas was kind and clearly loved her son so why worry.

"Waiting for your loverboy to get back?" The elder questioned, sitting in the sit next to the teen, setting down a cup of water for them. Atlas seemed on a different planet, listening to another French lesson with their Walkman strapped onto their head. It wasn't too loud for them to hear the woman though, and they simply replied, "if you're talking about Gareth — I still haven't confessed." A small sigh of defeat escaped the Grove teen's lips as their gaze found it's way to Eleanor, "well, I'm fixing to, I just don't want it to be obvious. I learned how to say and write 'I love you' in French so I'll probably just leave him a note that says that and wait for him to figure it out."

Sadly, Gareth never exactly figured out what the translation of Je t'aime meant, however Atlas still managed to end up lucky enough to be running their fingers through Gareth's hair, making a mess of it, though it seemed like the boy couldn't care less as the side of his face pressed into the other teen's stomach. "Tell me something in French, I wanna guess what you're saying. I'll give myself three hints."

Atlas sighed a bit to themself, more in content than boredom or something along those lines. How could they possibly get bored of laying like this? Gareth's arms were loosely wrapped around their waist, just enough so that it wasn't uncomfortable for either of them. Gareth was laid on the longer end of the couch while Atlas' body was positioned more in the corner of the L-shaped sofa. The Emerson teen's face was turned towards Atlas' so the pair could look at each other, as if that wasn't what they did all day anyway.

Even if Atlas couldn't see Gareth, his face was engraved into their mind. Every little detail. Every freckle that went from one cheek, to across the nose, then onto the other cheek, and finally scattering around his forehead.

"Well...uh, l'amour de ma vie."

Gareth scoffed playfully, glaring up at Atlas in disbelief, "amour is obviously love." He claimed proudly, nose slightly scrunched as he continued. "And I know ma is my, I took French for like 2 years...in middle school."

Atlas let out a quiet laugh, nodding to show that he was on the right track. They would've spoke but they felt like silence communicated their thoughts better than they did. And who would want to interrupt Gareth's train of thought when it was making him look so...squishy? Like when a cat is so cute you just wanna suffocate it, whatever that is called. His nose was slightly scrunched, making his eyebrows furrow inward slightly as he reached up to scratch his cheek like he was did when thinking intently. "I need a hint."

"Vie means life." Atlas declared, "the whole thing is kinda like a pet name, it's something you call someone you love."

Gareth seemed completely lost but that was fine by Atlas since he couldn't catch them staring at him. As much as they stare at him, they'd probably be able to do a photo-accurate sculpture of Gareth just from memory. Curls messily fell over his freckled forehead, framing his face as his eyes drooped sleepily and he reached around to grab Atlas' free hand.

"I give up, what's it mean?"

"Love of my life."

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: West Coast Avengers #20: Lost in Space-Time, Part Four: In the Meantime, in Between-Time...

May, 1987

THE SANDS OF TIME

That’s a good visual metaphor for this lost in the past plot but not strictly accurate to what happens.

But. It makes a really striking cover. I can’t hate it.

Last times on West Coast Avengers: the West Coast Avengers go to try and recruit Firebird except in a wacky mix-up, she was coming to see them and they both miss each other! Oh and then Dominus, pal of Lucifer, sends the Avengers back in time with a broken time machine.

They end up first in the cowboy times of 1876 where they help Two-Gun Kid, Rawhide Kid, and Ghost Rider or Phantom Rider thwart some gimmicky gang leaders and a giant alien that looks like a totem pole.

Sure, they’re stuck in the past but its a rollicking fun adventure. People like cowboy adventures, right!

Unable to fix the time machine, Wonder Man suggests going all the way back to Ancient Egypt and getting Nice Rama-Tut to fix the machine for them.

While trying a test run of going back to 1776, Ghost Rider clonks Mockingbird and kidnaps her because he’s an obsessed creep.

The West Coast Avengers wind up in 1776 and Mockingbird is carried off by Ghost Rider.

Two-Gun Kid and Rawhide Kid track down Ghost Rider but he’s given Mockingbird a magic potion that makes her love him and she helps him fight off the two Kids.

Back in 1776, the West Coast Avengers wind up fighting some Spanish soldiers and Wonder Man accidentally explodes an armful of guns right next to Hawkeye, badly burning one of his archery arms.

The Avengers meet Carlotta Valdez, a woman that is maybe Firebird/La Espirita’s ancestor and whose death La Espirita had a vision of the first time she was hanging out with the team!

Hawkeye writes a note for her to pass down her family and hopefully eventually reach the Fantastic Four who can come rescue the time-lost team.

Because time is silly like that and coincidences happen more often than not, the inkjet arrowhead Hawkeye used to write the note is found by potioned up Mockingbird in 1876 and taken as a keepsake.

Also, in the present year of 1987, La Espirita interrupted Hank Pym’s suicide and helped him get his groove back.

As you can tell, a lot is going on. Just so much.

Look at this splash page, we’re following four separate threads because in addition to the present, the past, and the further past, we’re still following Carlotta.

Its a nice touch that in issue four, we’ve split the plot into four different threads. But this story arc has a lot of issues. How many plot threads are we going to wind up with before the end??

ANYWAY

July, 1776, and the West Coast Avengers minus Mockingbird are flying towards Egypt.

But that’s a lot of ground to cover and Hawkeye isn’t doing great after being exploded. Carlotta treated his burns with salve but he needs a real doctor.

So they’re taking a detour to the Philadelphia.

Although its not really a detour when their destination is so far away.

Hawkeye reminds everyone that hey it may seem like going to Egypt is their only hope for getting back to their own time but don’t forget! He wrote a note and gave it to a random person who was probably Firebird’s ancestor!

That note will totally get where it needs to go!

Wonder Man: “A message telling her to contact the FF and have them come get us with their time machine! We should go to Brooklyn, and I can sell you a bridge!”

Tigra casually rearranges their flying arrangement so Wonder Man is carrying her on the time platform so she can very casually tell him to stop being a dick.

Wonder Man: “You and I haven’t had much time together lately!”

Tigra: “And we’re gonna have less if you don’t shape up, you turkey!”

Wonder Man: “What -- ?”

Tigra: “Listen -- I know you’re real proud of yourself these days, but you’re still a part of a group! This group! I spent too much time being a pain in the Whackos’ butt to let anybody else start up now! We don’t need this ‘team’s strongest man’ contest you’ve started with Tony, okay?”

Wonder Man: “Then maybe I’ve outgrown the team -- !”

Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out then?

Look.

I generally like Wonder Man as a concept and sometimes as a person. But he’s been a dick lately. And the team has been stagnant lately. Where’s that patented Avengers dynamic roster?

Wonder Man storming off in a huff and becoming a solo act would be just the ticket.

I crave change!

Anyway.

While the West Coast Avengers are still in July, Carlotta’s part of the plot is one month ahead in August, 1776.

So she can be on her trip to California that La Espirita had a vision of.

She’s riding in the carriage with a priest and with her aunt and complaining how boring it is. She’d rather be riding her horse instead of sitting in the carriage with two fuddy duddies.

Carlotta starts bragging about how she met some flying British spies and treated their wounds but the two chaperones think she’s just making up stories.

So she ditches the carriage to ride her horse like she wanted to and to make time with a handsome captain.

Thennn there’s an attack by first nationers.

Who probably have some grievances but everyone just starts shooting guns so who can say.

Carlotta joins in the shooting because she has a gun so why not but then she gets shot from behind.

In the vision it was a mystery who shot her and here... its also still a mystery who shot her.

I don’t know if we’ll ever learn.

It’s only the Spanish soldiers who have guns and the shot seems to have come from behind her, where the Spanish soldiers would have been.

So was it just friendly fire?

The tragedy of being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Because her priest and aunt chaperones make it through this just fine. Is the point that if she’d behaved and stayed put, she’d be alive? If so, I’m glad that the book is vague on the subject.

The priest comes to hear her last confession and she first makes him promise to safeguard the note she got from Hawkeye.

So at least that plot thread is still going somewhere, even if Carlotta no longer is.

Sorry, Carlotta. You seemed cool.

A MONTH AGO, in July, 1776, the West Coast Avengers arrive in Philadelphia.

Hawkeye has passed out from his injuries so he really needs a doctor ASAP.

Wonder Man swears that Hawkeye won’t die while the West Coast Avengers are on duty and since Wonder Man has been such a pill lately, Tigra honestly can’t tell if he’s serious or is just being a dick again using his ACTING to pretend to care.

While Tigra watches Hawkeye in an alley, Iron Man and Wonder Man go to find the doctor.

They have to steal clothes because their money is not legal tender yet and also they really don’t blend in with their ridiculous clothes and awesome power armor.

Wonder Man, still being a pill: “Once you take that armor off, you’re just a normal guy, aren’t you?”

Tony Stark, Iron Man: “I can put it back on at a moment’s notice!”

Normal guy but also genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

Stop starting shit, Simon.

Anyway, big nerd Tony Stark nerds out about being in Philadelphia in July, 1776 while Simon Williams, only a big nerd about science, really doesn’t give a crap. He even tells Tony “I studied science, not history!”

But Tony is really excited and a little disappointed that this isn’t a sightseeing trip. He wants to watch all this history being made! But Hawkeye is dying so dangit I guess we got priorities.

And as Tony and Simon walk off to find a doctor for Hawkeye, they miss Dr Strange, Clea, and Evil Sorcerer Disguised As Benjamin Franklin walking around the corner.

Womp womp!

They coulda gotten home without a trip to Egypt.

Also: Dr Strange is a doctor!

(Side note: Aside from Dr Strange and Clea being in 1776, Captain America is also apparently in town accidentally inspiring the American flag in a bootstrap paradox. The marvel wiki wryly notes “It's probably safe to assume Philadelphia in July, 1776 was just lousy with visiting time travelers.”)

ANYWAY

One hundred years in the future, 1876, Ghost Rider arrives in Lordsburg, New Mexico with his new potioned girlfriend slash coerced captive Mockingbird.

Lordsburg is where Ghost Rider’s secret identity Lincoln Slade is a marshal.

Ghost Rider aka Lincoln Slade doesn’t think Two-Gun and Rawhide Kids will give up on hunting him but he also doesn’t think they’ll be able to find him once he and Mockingbird decostume and move into town.

When Lincoln takes off his spooky outfit, he actually briefly feels bad about drugging a woman to love him but then thinks ‘don’t I deserve happiness too??’ and puts it out of mind.

So he goes and interacts with what are probably a supporting cast from his old book maybe. He buys a dress for Mockingbird to wear (she didn’t exactly bring a change of clothes) and sneaks her into his room in the marshal’s station.

Mockingbobbi boots Lincoln out of the room so she can change into her new Old West dress and contemplates the inkjet arrowhead that she found.

She has no idea what it is but it fascinates it does. So she decides to wear it as a necklace.

Which - after he finishes drooling over her in her new dress - does Lincoln a startle. Because it looks like a Hawkeye arrowhead but that’s clearly impossible! Hawkeye was never in Ghost Rider’s secret cave, as far as Ghost Rider knows!

So he shakes off his paranoia and goes to introduce Bobbi around town.

BACK ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO in 1776, the West Coast Avengers minus Mockingbird jet over the Atlantic.

Hawkeye’s off-panel doctoring has left him feeling much better, although not a whole lot better.

Simon used his UNHOLY ACTING TALENT to convince the off-panel doctor that Hawkeye’s garish getup was a circus. Helped by the fact that well his original costume was based on a circus outfit so it wasn’t actually much of a lie.

The West Coast Avengers have apparently made good time because after some hours of travel, they’re approaching England.

Hm. Hey. Wonder Man doesn’t actually fly under his own power. He has a little jetpack or whatever.

Does it have infinite fuel or something? I looked on the wiki and it apparently has enough fuel for five hours of continuous flight. So this trip across the Atlantic could fall within that time frame.

But what is it fueled with that they could find to refuel it with in 1776? Because the team also flew from the pre-American Southwest to the East Coast.

Ah well. These kinds of logistics are probably why Simon eventually became capable of self-propulsion.

The concept of England reminds Iron Man of magicians. A magician (LIKE DR STRANGE FOR EXAMPLE??) could send them back to the present easily enough.

Usually Iron Man doesn’t like magic. Or maybe that’s more of a modern thing that has become a retroactive thing. But in either case, he’s willing to try it out.

Because: for example: Merlin in King Arthur’s time.

Pretty famous wizard. And a time frame that isn’t as far back as Ancient Egypt so at least they have a fallback.

Hawkeye protests that in the Marvel universe, there are several people that call themselves Merlin and some of them are liable to be good and friendly and many are not.

Heck, a recent Black Knight miniseries has revealed that Camelot Merlin was himself kind of a massive asshole.

So, maybe a bigger gamble than the West Coast Avengers would like.

Tigra suggests Prester John, the guy with the Evil Eye that caused the Avengers/Defenders War.

But Hawkeye again partypoops and points out that Prester John wasn’t a time traveler. He just lived a super long time because he had a special chair.

Okay so all the options that anybody can think of besides going to Egypt have been shot down? Lets go to Egypt!

I’m glad that they at least tried to think of different options though.

Maybe the Avengers should have a ‘So You’re Trapped in the Past’ class about various time travelers to look out for. They could have gone to the point when the Thing was Blackbeard, for example.

That’s only sixty some years before where they are now. It’s doable.

You guys have gotta learn more about what your friends the Fantastic Four are up to.

In fact, if the first trip hadn’t taken you so far back, you could have gone to World War II and waited for future past Captain America to show up to watch Bucky die, for closure reasons.

And apparently the Stone Age is just lousy with time travelers.

The Marvel Universe is a silly place.

Anyway, Egypt.

Back in the present times of 1987, Hank and La Espirita have started to wonder where the Avengers are.

Hank is worried because they went looking for her but she’s here so what’s keeping them from returning having not found her?

But La Espirita isn’t worried because “nobody’s ever beaten the Avengers! That’s why I admire them so!”

But she suggests praying for them if Hank is worried.

And while she’s showing off her family Bible, Hawkeye’s note from the past times drops out and she shoves it back in without looking.

Dangit, Bonita!

Also, Hank, singular scientist that he is, doesn’t really believe that prayer does shit.

So he declines, as politely as he can bother, and La Espirita shrugs and moves back on with her Help Hank project by poking another sore spot in his personality.

Now that Hank’s explained everything about Pym Particles, she asks him about his experience in robotics. And specifically Ultron.

Y’know, it’s a good thing Bonita is good. Because this would be the perfect cover for someone who wanted all of Hank’s secrets and technology.

He’s practically giving it away.

Anyway: Ultron.

Hank Pym: “I devised an artificial intelligence system based on the android known as Dragon Man -- but I accidentally went too far, and gave it enough self-reference to achieve self-awareness! it began to evolve itself without my knowledge -- rebuilding itself without my help -- Do you really have some idea where you’re going with this?”

La Espirita: “I’m just letting the spirit move me, but I’m beginning to see a brilliant shining goal -- ! Tell me more -- !”

It’s kind of funny that Hank’s biggest failure was caused by him succeeding too much.

Like, his big insecurity that often drives him is that he doesn’t measure up to the other prominent Marvel scientists. But he tried to create just a test artificial intelligence and accidentally made one self-aware.

Granted, it’ll turn out that’s at least partially because he jammed his own brain into there but still.

Maybe Hank’s failure in the lab since was a subconscious fear of what new horrors he would wrought if he stretched his genius to its limit. So he self-sabotages and half-asses and then gets frustrated with himself for not making anything good.

I dunno.

BACK IN 1776, the West Coast Avengers arrive in Egypt and land by the Sphinx.

Which is just stone but still seems annoyed with them somehow.

Maybe it was that crack about Bakersfield.

Despite traveling all day, Hawkeye wants them to press on until they’re back in the present.

Then, while Wonder Man sets up the time platform for the big trip to 3000 BC, a group of pissed off Egyptians attack the weirdo outsiders who just flew into town because we gotta get an action scene into here.

It’s just been talking.

Sure, having them shout about flying infidels before attacking is probably racist but uh... yeah its not great.

The very brief fight scene choreography is a little great. Or passable, at least.

Iron Man grabs what looks like half the crowd at the same time to just gently shove them away.

The physics of that astound me.

Tigra nimbly traverses the crowd by head and shoulder, the way a cat might.

While Hawkeye can’t fire his bow with one arm in a sling but he can just use a gas arrow by waving it around while holding his breath.

With enough time bought during the entirely pointless one page fight scene with a bunch of bystanders who were very angry at the Avengers who didn’t really try very hard not to upset the locals, Wonder Man finishes programming the time platform and AWAY THEY GO

To 2920 BC

Where they land near a crowd of locals so they can get into another pointless fight scene.

This time they’re mistaken as demons.

But c’mon. At least confuse Tigra for a servant of Sekhmet or something.

A priest calls an end to all these shenanigans because dammit, is he the only one who remembers Ancient Egyptian history??

Shamaz, high priest of the Pharaoh: “<These aren’t the first strange men and women to appear on the flying square! Many years ago, the four in blue came the same way!>”

And then he starts speaking to the West Coast Avengers in modern English.

A language that he definitely knows despite it very not existing yet. Not even being a linguistic glimmer in someone’s eye.

Somehow, I want to blame the Fantastic Four for this but Kang would definitely demand his high priest learn English, right?

Hawkeye is not doing well at this point. He’s jetlagged from crossing the ocean and now he’s time lagged and his burns are getting to him again. He’s sweating really bad and he can barely stumble through a sentence.

But he tells the high priest that he needs to speak to Pharaoh Rama-Tut to get their time machine fixed.

That’s quite impossible though because according to Shamaz, Rama-Tut is preparing to enter suspended animation so he can wake up in time for the Celestial Madonna Saga.

Plus, Shamaz points out that Rama-Tut might not even be able to fix a time machine. He destroyed his own time machine and if he could have a new one built, he wouldn’t take the long way to the present.

Iron Man: “We must speak to Rama-Tut directly! This is extremely serious!”

Shamaz: “So are the burial rites of Pharaoahs!”

Wonder Man: “How’d you like to get buried yourself, tough guy! I’ll put you a good mile underground if you don’t quit screwin’ around here!”

And he flies up and puts the guy in an armlock.

You’d think this would restart hostilities but apparently one of these people flying off the handle and threatening him with violence convinces Shamaz that they really are the people that Rama-Tut is going to aid in the relative future.

... Rama-Tut, what the hell have you been telling your high priest?

Honestly, Shamaz is kind of fascinating. He’s got a good head on his shoulders. And he knows enough to just sigh and go ‘these assholes again’ when time traveling superheroes show up instead of thinking its demons.

Anyway. He directs them where to find Rama-Tut.

Unfortunately for the West Coast Avengers, Shamaz was entirely correct that Rama-Tut is in no state to help randos right now.

In preparation for sleeping for thousands of years... uh... Rama-Tut is in that half-asleep state where he’s almost entirely but not quite incoherent.

He’s going to be no help.

Once when I was half asleep like this, I promised myself I could sleep another hour because I’d just use my time machine to make up the time. Unlike the various Kangses, I didn’t actually have one. But it seemed very convincing when I needed to persuade my brain to go back to sleep.

Anyway.

Hawkeye starts shouting at this point because dangit, they’ve come all this way and all this time and in the future Hawkeye will help out Rama-Tut so Rama-Tut can damn well help him now in the past!

In his not-quite-lucid state, Rama-Tut suggests that “...go... to... my first reign... knew... machines... then...!”

Which is not helpful, actually!

In Rama-Tut’s first reign, he was very Kangy. I.e. a dick. And a creep. He tried to enslave the Fantastic Four and he’ll probably definitely not be disposed to help out some poor mixed up time travelers.

Iron Man suggests that the (West Coast) Avengers will do whatever Hawkeye wants them to do but Hawkeye’s about done.

Hawkeye: “I’ve been -- kiddin’ us all! I’m about -- out of -- it! You have to -- decide -- this time -- knowing -- it’ll be -- the three of -- you -- fightin’ alone! I can’t -- help -- any -- more -- !”

Iron Man: “Nor need you!”

Wonder Man: “You molded us into a team that can take care of itself, and you!”

Tigra: “Simon and I were misfits before! We owe you far more than a free ride now!”

Iron Man: “We’ll go to the younger Rama-Tut and we’ll get Bobbi and we’ll go home! That’s a promise from Iron Man!”

Hawkeye: “Th -- thanks -- !”

Right before Hawkeye passes out - because yeah he almost immediately passes out after this - he names Iron Man interim chairman.

To some upset.

Mostly Simon.

Simon’s upset.

He’s been angling to replace Hawkeye. Or at least he mentioned once that maybe Hawkeye was too emotionally and physically compromised and maybe Wonder Man should take over.

And he’s been grumpy about Iron Man also.

So now he’s doubly grumpy. Angry even. Shouting.

And I can think of several good reasons why Hawkeye chose Iron Man. Seniority. Already experienced as a leader. Didn’t explode the previous leader.

But Iron Man just goes with ‘he said what he said so live with it.’

So they say goodbye to cool guy Shamaz and head back in time again.

Just twenty more years back, to 2940 BC.

So.

Uh. Why did they do this?

I know Nice Rama-Tut suggested it. But he’s spouting half-asleep nonsense.

If the problem is that he’s too sleepy to help, why not go back a couple days? Instead of taking a chance on Mean Rama-Tut?

Why did nobody suggest this?

The issue was so good at throwing out ideas only to dismiss them earlier. It could at least dismiss going to talk to Nice Rama-Tut earlier as being too likely to Change Time Oh No since Shamaz didn’t know them already.

That’d be something.

Anyway.

When the West Coast Avengers show up in 2940 BC, Mean Rama-Tut immediately shoots them.

Womp womp!

Follow @essential-avengers​ for more nitpicking bad decision making. I’m assuming there will be more of it. Like and reblog perhaps.

[attllhak]

Surface Too Soon .3

@tortilla-of-courage @emenerd hey look it’s chapter 3. Two chapters in a day and I’m on a roll.

General warnings because Ghirahim is in this chapter and he’s, well, he’s Ghirahim. And he’s being creepy.

Anyways, enjoy! (And to Tortilla, sorry for torturing you with vague updates as I wrote. The boy is fine, just shaken up and scared.)

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

Chapter 3: On The Surface

Link did his best to swallow back every pained whimper as the strange woman ran her hands over his body. He still didn’t want to move, because ow, and it wasn’t like he was in a position to complain.

He’d already survived, which was more than he’d expected after he made it past the clouds.

He did end up crying out as she made it to his ankle, jerking it up away from her, sparking more pain along his leg and side.

She sat back, glaring at him slightly.

“Well, you’re not walking,” she huffed, glaring at the offending ankle, which was throbbing quite painfully. “I’ll need to actually be allowed to take a look at that to assess the damage,”

Link frowned at her, shifting his leg a bit further away.

This seemed to frustrate the woman further. “I am trying to help you. I can’t do that unless you let me.”

Link considered this, and considered the pain he was in, and then considered that, ulterior motives aside, he had no idea where he could find help without this woman. Slowly, because ow, he moved his leg back down to her.

He had to grit his teeth as she slid off his boot and sock to inspect his ankle, and then declared it not broken, but still very badly injured.

His ribs, it turned out, were broken in a few places. Which explains the crack he felt.

One of his shoulders had been dislocated, which the woman popped back into place, which was a LOT of ow.

Eventually, with a lot of complaining and pained noises and slow movements, she got Link sitting up against the sand he’d sid down. So he was still kinda laying down.

Which is when he finally got a look at his surroundings. Hard, red rock rose up all around him, the slope above and behind him was all loose sand, and some kind of thick, red liquid sloshed nearby, giving off heat.

“Who are you?” He asked, and filed away quickly that ow, talking hurts.

The woman looked at him, pausing from where she was using the fabric that had been covering her face to wrap his foot. She looked very annoyed for some reason he couldn’t identify.

Link didn’t know why he’d pissed her off by landing here, but he felt a bit bad for it.

“My name is Impa,” she said finally, turning back to his ankle. “I am a servant to the goddess Hylia, meant to protect the Spirit Maiden on her journey to fulfil her destiny,” she finished tying off the fabric and looked up to meet Link’s eyes. “You are not her,”

He lifted his good arm, since the other still hurt to move. “Is that why you’re mad at me?”

She frowned at him, like he wasn’t making sense.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hoping that would help.

This got him a glare.

“You do not need to apologize for not being who I was waiting for,” Impa told him bluntly. “I’m mad, but not at you. I’m mad because you shouldn’t be down here yet. I should be meeting the Spirit Maiden, not the Chosen Hero. Regardless, you are in no shape to fulfil your duty, and I see no sign of Her Grace arriving here. I’ll take you somewhere safer to heal, and we’ll talk more about your destiny then,”

Link had no idea what she meant by most of that, but it was nice to know she wasn’t mad at him.

He did make a few pained noises as she picked him up, balancing him in her arms.

Every movement as she carried him away from the heat and rocks was ow, ow, ow. He really was a giant bruise by now. Also ow.

The green that started popping up was awe inducing. Especially as there came more and more green. Link had never seen so much green before. And the trees! There were so many trees!

He probably should have paid more attention to where they were going, but he was too enthralled with his surroundings to care.

Which was when he noticed the tiny birds.

All thoughts of pain and worry were out the window at this discovery, and he all but begged Impa to stop and let him look at the tiny birds. She said later, and he tried pouting, which didn’t work, and then needled away until she agreed to bring him a tiny bird to hold when they stopped.

That had Link very excited.

Eventually, Link was set down on a very big plant, Impa called it a mushroom when he asked, and was told to stay put. Impa promised to bring him a tiny bird and some healing items.

Link, of course, did not stay put.

His right ankle couldn’t support his weight, so he ended up crawling around instead, doing his best to keep his weight off his left arm.

When Impa got back and finally found him, he was lying on his stomach and chatting with a small creature he met called a kikwi, who was also face down on the ground.

Impa was not pleased in the least.

He drank the potion she brought him, and even got to hold one of the tiny birds after he’d done so. It felt so small and fragile in his hands, and it was so cute. Even his new kikwi friend stood up to also coo over the tiny bird with him.

Machi didn’t understand why Link was so fascinated with the bird, but Machi also was a bit confused by the whole ‘came from the sky thing’, so Link didn’t hold it against him.

Impa just seemed frustrated with him, proceeding to lecture him about why laying on his stomach was bad for his ribs and how he was just going to hurt himself more. Something about pressure on the breaks or whatever.

Link was only about half listening to her. Oh he was trying to pay attention to what she was saying, of course he was. He always got in trouble in class for not focusing, and he knew it was even more important to focus on what she was telling him down here, with so many unknowns.

But, there was just so much happening around him! The trees here were HUGE! And there were so many new kinds of plants! And what even was a mushroom and were they all that big? And the little bird was falling asleep in his hands, which was adorable, and there were more birds flying around. And there was a new bug he’d never seen before on the wall over there.

It was hard to focus on her, was the point. He kept getting distracted by all the new things to look at.

“Are you even listening to me?” She asked, frowning at him.

Link, realizing he’d zoned out and missed most of what she’d said, responded as tactfully as he could think of.

He lifted up the tiny bird to her slightly. “I can feel it’s heartbeat,”

Impa slapped her face.

Link got the slightest hint that maybe, maybe, he was pissing her off a bit.

“I’m sorry,” he said, watching her drag the hand down her face. “There’s just a lot of new things around and I’m having trouble focusing on you. If it helps, I’ve kinda always had trouble paying attention when surrounded by new things,”

She looked very unimpressed.

“Fine,” she sighed. “We’ll talk about all that later. But no more lying on your stomach,”

Link nodded seriously, or as seriously as he could manage. “Yes, ma’am.”

She looked very tired, and while Link didn’t know how much time had passed since he’d fallen that morning (he’d never been good with time and today was not a good day for that) he was still pretty sure it was too early in the day for her to look so exhausted.

He was pretty sure he was at fault for that. Maybe he should apologize?

“Are you hungry?” Impa asked finally, after just looking at him for a while.

Link was about to say no, but then his stomach growled and so he nodded instead. Food never hurt, he figured.

“Stay put. I mean it this time,” Impa pointed at him firmly. “I’ll be right back,”

Link watched her walk off, and figured maybe he should actually listen this time. She had seemed awful annoyed.

“So, what’s it like in the sky?” Machi asked as the silence dragged on.

“Oh, it’s great!” Link grinned. “The stories say the goddess sent us up there a long time ago to protect us. We ride around on big birds called loftwings, and it’s so pretty, and I was supposed to participate in this competition called the Wing Ceremony so I could graduate into the senior class and become a knight. Actually, I wonder who won it. I mean, I know Zelda will be disappointed- HOLY HYLIA ZELDA!”

The bird in his hands startled and flew away, and Machi fell over at Link’s outburst. Link’s hands shot up to fist in his hair, panic and worry constricting his chest.

“Zelda is probably so worried about me! I have to get back to Skyloft, I need to tell her I’m okay!” Link gasped, suddenly remembering that little detail he’d forgotten in his excitement. “I gotta get back to the sky!”

“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed then, Sky Child,”

Link didn’t like the way that voice slithered along his spine like a snake, making all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He slowly turned his head to see someone standing on one of the mushrooms, smiling at him like a remlit that had just caught a butterfly.

This individual, probably a man if Link had to guess, was very pale, skin fitted white clothing stuck tight like a second skin and a deep red cape sat around the man’s shoulders. Sharp, too big eyes watched Link like he was the most fascinating and precious thing in the world, and it made him feel very uncomfortable. He didn’t like the way this man was looking at him, eyes taking in his form and tracking even the rise and fall of his chest as he wrestled to keep his breathing under control.

There was something very wrong about this man, and Link wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure if his leg could support his weight yet, not that he’d be able to run very far even if it could.

Where was Impa? She said she’d be right back.

“Don’t bother looking for your bodyguard,” the man grinned, noticing Link breaking eye contact to scan the forest where Impa had gone. “She’s a bit, tied up right now,”

The smile on the man’s face made every nerve and muscle in Link’s body scream “RUN!” at him. But he couldn’t run, he’d never make it away in time.

Stall! He thought desperately at himself. Stall so Impa can get back and get you out of here!

“Wh-who are you?” Link asked, fighting his throat and hating how shaky he sounded.

He’d never been in real danger before, though he was pretty sure that’s what this was, and he was terrified. He didn’t know what to do here!

The man grinned wider, and Link felt his stomach twist into uncomfortable knots.

“Oh how rude,” the man cooed. “I hadn’t introduced myself. I am the Demon Lord who presides over the land you look down upon, this world you call the Surface,” he vanished in a cloud of diamonds, then reappeared inches from Link’s face. “You may call me Ghirahim. In truth, I much prefer to be indulged with my full title: Lord Ghirahim. But I’m not fussy,”

Link backpedalled, crawling as fast as he could to put as much distance between himself and the man as he could.

Ghirahim vanished again, this time appearing behind Link to grab his shoulders. Link froze, fear rooting him to the spot. He didn’t dare breathe.

Where was Impa?!

“I’m much more interested in you, however,” the, the demon cooed almost directly into Link’s ear. He suddenly felt nauseous. “Yes, Your Majesty, you are a much more interesting find. I had actually expected your mortal form to be that of a woman, but I’m not complaining about this little surprise. It’s certainly clever, if nothing else,”

Link swallowed down bile, body tense as he felt the man continue to look him over, even from the awkward angle.

Impa, he thought desperately. Please hurry!

“I-I don’t know w-what you’re t-talking about,” Link stammered out, fighting his very uncooperative voice to keep it from shaking too badly. He didn’t really succeed.

Ghirahim chuckled, the sound directly in his ear causing goosebumps to rise up on his skin. It was warm out, but Link shivered.

“No, of course you don’t, not yet. You just got here,” Ghirahim finally vanished again, appearing in front of him, and Link finally let himself breathe, chest heaving and sending him back onto his elbows. “I had thought that goddess-serving dog would have told you, but no matter. Whether you know or not, it doesn’t change my plans. And you, dear boy, are very important to them,”

The sick, pleased smile on Ghirahim's face made Link want to hurl, and scream, and curl up into a ball and cry. He’d never had to deal with someone this, this deranged before, and he was scared. He was scared, and he wanted to go home. He wanted to be back up on Skyloft with Zelda, getting yelled at for not practicing hard enough. He wanted his best friend to smile and tell him this was all a bad dream and hold him tight and tell him it was going to be okay. Hell, he’d even take dealing with Groose over this.

What he wouldn’t give to go back to this morning, and not be here, trapped under the gaze of a demon who seemed so pleased to have caught him.

“Stay away from him!”

Ghirahim turned, dodging sharply as someone moved to attack him.

Impa!

Link gasped in relief. He had never before been so happy to see someone he’d only known for a few hours.

Impa positioned herself between Link and Ghirahim, glaring down the demon lord and turning herself into a barrier.

“Of course, you’re here,” Ghirahim sneered, lips twisting on his face in disgust. “Come to protect your precious Spirit Maiden, hm?”

“Link,” Impa said, ignoring what Ghirahim was saying but never taking her eyes off him. “Run,”

“Imp-” Link tried, voice still shaky and weak sounding.

“GO!” Impa snapped, and Link scrambled around to get moving.

He knew he wouldn’t get far, being as injured as he was, and who knew what other kinds of monsters there were in the woods. He spotted Machi waving to him and scrambled over, ducking behind one of the mushrooms to hide, waved into a small crack in the stone where he curled up to wait, Machi pulling some of the vines to hide him better.

He could hear fighting beyond his hiding spot, and covered his ears with his hands in the hopes of blocking out the sounds of breaking glass and metal on metal. He squeezed his eyes shut too, stomach and chest twisting uncomfortably at every flash of blue and black light.

He had never been so scared or helpless in his life, and he hated it. He hated it, he hated it, he hated it.

He wanted to go home. To where there were no demons out for him or Spirit Maidens or fighting between people to the death. He wanted Zelda to tell him it was okay, like she would when he had nightmares, or when Groose was a bit meaner than usual. He wanted the biggest worry in his life to be whether or not Groose put something in his food or hit him with a spitball during class.

He was done with the Surface, he wanted to go home!

It was far too long before he realized the sound of fighting had stopped. Did, who won? Was Impa okay? Was Ghirahim going to take him away somewhere for some reason he still didn’t understand?

“Link,”

Link slowly opened his eyes and turned his head at the soft voice.

Impa was crouched down next to his hiding spot. She was bleeding in a few places, and her features were creased with worry, but she was okay.

“Are you hurt?” She asked, once she was certain he was looking at her.

Link shook his head, the movement jerky. “Is, is he, is,” he paused to swallow, finding it hard to get his thoughts across and into words. “Gone?” He finally managed.

Impa nodded. “For now, yes, he’s gone,”

Link felt like bursting into tears. He was scared, and mostly alone, and some demon was hunting him and Impa had gotten hurt trying to protect him and-

“I want to go home,” he said quietly, not even really embarrassed by how broken the phrase sounded.

Impa frowned, gently, and offered him her hand. “I know. I can’t get you home right now, though,”

Link sniffed, reaching up to swipe at his eyes. He somehow already knew that.

“Come on, it’s not safe here,” Impa said, offering her hand to him again. “There’s somewhere safe close by where we can at least spend the night, though,”

Link sniffed again, wiping at his face with his sleeve, and accepted her hand, crawling out of the spot he’d hidden in. He felt like a little kid all over again, like he was when his parents had died. Scared and lost and alone, with no idea how anything was going to turn out or if it would even be okay.

Only this time he didn’t have Zelda, or Pipit, or Karane to help him out. There was no Geapora to take him in. Just him, a whole world full of new things and dangers, and Impa.

“Is he going to come back?” Link asked while Impa looked him over for any new injuries.

Impa paused, looking up at him, then turned her eyes back to his arm. “Probably,” she admitted, slowly, like she was trying not to scare him. “Which is why we can’t stay here,”

“What does he even want from me?” Link asked, trying his best not to actually burst into tears. He didn’t want to cry. He could be brave, though he was starting to think he didn’t want to be.

Impa sighed, putting her hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d feared considering the last time someone held his shoulders.

“He doesn’t want anything from you,” Impa told him seriously. “He wants something from the person he thinks you are. He wants the Spirit Maiden,”

“But I’m not the Spirit Maiden,” Link said, in a way that bordered on a mix of a whine and beg but wasn’t quite either. “Can he leave us alone?”

The sympathetic look Impa gave him did not make him feel better.

“He doesn’t know that, though,” Impa said gently, squeezing his shoulders to try and offer him some comfort. “He thinks you are the Spirit Maiden, which is why he’s targeting you,”

Link could feel himself trembling, and he dropped his eyes away from Impa’s.

“I want to go home,” he repeated, trying his best to blink back scared tears and avoid just curling into a ball.

“I know,” Impa sighed, and he felt a gentle hand brush through his hair. “Come on, let’s head somewhere safe for now. We can work on getting you home once you’re healed,”

Link nodded, sniffling a bit and swiping at his face with his sleeves.

He hated being so helpless. He hated being so scared.

He just hoped Zelda wasn’t hating herself too much for pushing him. It really wasn’t her fault he ended up down here, being hunted by a demon.

He hoped Impa could find him a way home soon, so that he could apologize for worrying her.

He was done being excited by the surface.