#anyway sorry echoes in the distance came on and it activated all of my emotions. TT i lovw this game i love this game i love this g

[lem-argentum]

reminiscing on when i was playing end.walker and got through all the heartwarming scenes before boarding the ragnarok andnh then they justj killed th.ancred instantly

[jetsam-kisa]

Michiko vs Jetsam

Whew! This is done! I got carried away so I am very sorry for the length :’D

Michiko’s mod and I had some fun talking about our characters and especially the gear Michi is developing!

Unfortunately they were very busy this week, but I was more than happy to write the fight results :D 

CW: emetophobia // there is a brief scene describing vomit semi-graphically

The roar of the crowd echoed through the stadium as Jetsam Kisa and Michiko Watanabe entered the battle arena. Both of the students walked to their side of the arena with a sense of purpose, even if they were nervous wrecks on the inside. Once they took their proper starting positions, the two contestants smiled weakly at each other as the announcer called out their names and the people in the crowd cheered for the next fight. 

‘I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out,’ Jetsam thought as he gnawed on his lips in anticipation, ‘That or throw up. Oh god I hope I don’t throw up in the middle of the match. Everyone here is watching. God, my parents are watching,’ Thick, heavy plums of smoke rolled out of his mouth the more frantic his thoughts became, until they nearly completely cloaked his figure, ‘I think I saw Best Jeanist in the stands too! He’s not going to want to associate with the kid who threw up during his first match. What am I doing here? What am I even going to do-?” 

Jetsam was snapped out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts by movement in his periphery; Michiko gently waved her hands at him and gave him a broader smile, despite clearly being nervous herself (if the crease in her brow was any clue to her emotional state).

“Let’s both do our best during this fight, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out from her side of the arena, before her gaze hardened with a resolve she often reserved for studying the most complex of quirks, “Although, I hope you know that I will not be taking it easy on you. I need to see how far I can go, and to learn about the extent of my current abilities.”

Seeing Michiko’s determination and hearing her will to succeed was like a salve to Jetsam’s shot nerves. He took a deep breath, then released the pent up smog. The smoke surrounding his body partially dissipated too. It was almost a shame how well Michiko’s words calmed him down; he would be better off easily producing the pollutants that came with high stress. Jetsam briefly wondered if her kindness was double-edged in a way; was it a strategic way to prevent him from building up his quirk before the match? He shook the thought out of his head before yelling back to her:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Miss Michi!”

He could only hope that his grin masked the nerves that were still rolling in his stomach. He knew Michiko; knew her quirk. It could only be activated by physical contact, so as long as he kept his distance he should be okay. 

‘Although,’ Jetsam thought as he gazed at the chain-like device at Michiko’s hip, ‘that capture chain she’s been developing could be difficult to beat. I’ve never seen what it actually does before.’

All too quickly, the announcer began their countdown: “3...2...1...BEGIN!”

---------

As soon as the bell rang, Michiko shot forward, arm extended, with a single-minded determination to do one thing and one thing only: get to Jetsam before he could gain control of the battlefield with his quirk. If she could grab a hold onto him before his smogs and tars and other (frankly, gross) expellents became too overwhelming, then she could nullify his quirk with her own, and use her capture device to prevent him from continuing the fight.

Jetsam must have realized her plans, and had just enough time to dodge out of her range, smog spewing out of his mouth now that his adrenaline was no doubt pumping again. Not to be deterred, Michiko quickly shifted her balance and dove after him again, careful not to let him hide behind the pillars of smoke he was creating. 

‘He’s not going to make this easy for me, but I have been preparing for this occasion for too long to let this game of tag keep me from winning!’ She thought to herself, resolve growing with every inch closer she got to Jetsam, ‘He can’t avoid me forever, and I have a secret weapon I’ve been dying to beta test!’

After a few more moments of chasing after Jetsam, Michiko took a gamble and let him escape to the sanctuary of smog he created across the arena. She knew she had to be quick, but some risks had to be taken to assure victory! She knew that she had the power within her to win.

He wouldn’t be able to outrun her prototype, after all!

--------

‘Phew, I think I finally managed to shake her,’ Jetsam sighed with relief, dark smog still escaping his mouth and obscuring his figure to the crowd (and hopefully Michiko as well). ‘Now I have a moment to breathe. Hah, figuratively, at least.’

He made sure to keep his eye on the clear silhouette of Michiko he could make out through his smog, never before more grateful for his mom’s sight-related quirk partially making its way to him. She seemed to be standing still, perhaps strategizing her own plan to catch him and throw him out of the arena? He hoped the smoke wasn’t making her feel too sick. He had to be quick.  

‘I can probably end the battle if I cover her in tar and stop her movement. It might be unpleasant but it’d be safer than trying to beat her in hand-to-hand or some other physical contest. I haven’t been training with Tsumi for too long, after all. Yeah okay, that’s the plan!’

Just as he was about to produce the sticky tars necessary to carry out his plan, a thin silhouette darted out from Michi’s figure, slithering across the arena at a speed too quick for Jetsam to react to.

As a cold, thin figure coiled itself tightly around him, the only thought sparking across Jetsam’s brain was:

“Michiko brought a snake?”

-----

‘Bingo!’ Michiko exclaimed to herself as Jetsam’s no-doubt unconscious shout revealed not only his location, but the fact that her capture device had worked perfectly as intended.

While it still had quite a few bugs to sort out, one of the most recently added features was a heat-seeking tracker that would allow the machine to chase after targets even under adverse visible conditions. 

She cocked her head towards the direction of Jetsam’s quick yell of distress; she couldn’t get complacent. The capture device was only half the battle! She had to guarantee that Jetsam couldn’t continue the fight in order to assure her victory! 

She couldn’t just blindly run through the smokescreen either; who knows what kinds of traps he could have placed while she set up her capture device. No. She had to be methodical, and safely make her way to Jetsam’s location while he was encumbered. 

The smog was thick, but now she had her goal within sight: grapple Jetsam and nullify his quirk, thus ending the match.

-----

Okay, so it wasn’t a snake, but it was still bad news! Jetsam’s arms were completely pinned by the robotic device wrapped around his torso. So this was the work of the capture device that Michiko had worked so hard on? Jetsam had to admit that it was effective. He couldn’t fight with his limbs restrained like this, and that shout he gave out completely alerted Michiko to his location.

‘So this is it. The fight’s over, and I spent the whole time running away and cowering in the corner. Everyone is watching. Everyone saw. Everyone will know I’m just a big failure who doesn’t deserve to be here. Oh god what if Sato-sensei kicks me out of the hero course? What if they kick me out of the school?? What if everyone laughs and ignores me and hates me OH GOD-’ 

As the panicked thoughts swirled in Jetsam’s mind a pit formed in his stomach. A pit that rapidly expanded into a big, black ball of anxiety and nerves. He could almost picture it in his mind’s eye: an ugly, bloated orb dripping with heat and stress and bile. The more he envisioned it the more it grew until he could almost feel it spilling out of his mouth like a slick oil spill across his lips and---oh wait.

It wasn’t in his mind’s eye.

Jetsam groaned to himself as gushing rivets of slippery, rubbery oil spewed from his mouth all down the front of his body. 

“Well this is perfect!” Jetsam exclaimed to himself, although it was muffled by the sheer volume of oil that expelled out of him as he spoke. He really did throw up. God, could this fight be any more of a disaster?

First he gets captured by Michi’s device, then he literally vomits gross oil from the stress. Fantastic. He shifted uncomfortably, as the oils soaked into his jersey under the capture device and--wait a moment. Oil. Disgusting, smelly, beautifully SLIPPERY oil! That was slicking up his torso and arms even now!

Jetsam pulled his arms upwards experimentally and YES! They were sliding out, he wasn’t restrained anymore! Maybe he could hide again and strategize-

The victorious thought was cut off by a hand shooting out from the pillars of smog, reaching for his newly freed arms.

-----

“I finally found you, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out, jumping from out of the smokescreen with a triumphant smile. 

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of Jetsam freed from his restraints, but she simply chalked it up to a prototyping failure; she could ask him about the specifics of how he escaped once the match was over, anyways.

This time Jetsam couldn’t dodge her oncoming attack, and Michiko grappled him to the ground, pinning his arms above his head. Now was her chance to nullify his quirk! She had been practicing in hand-to-hand combat, she could still push herself to her limits and come out on top!

Michiko began to focus her energy on her quirk, as Jetsam struggled underneath her. As soon as her quirk began its nullification, she saw the startled look in his dark eyes, and winced slightly in sympathy. She had been told that her quirk was a bit unpleasant to the target; with the process feeling not unlike having your blood drawn through your whole body.

As her quirk took effect, the copious amount of smoke around them began to disappear, once again fully revealing them to the crowd of spectators around the stadium. As her own vision began to clear she was startled to find them lying at the edge of the arena; if they had tussled a bit further out they would have been out of bounds.

Jetsam followed her gaze to the boundary line, and his jaw tightened as his face flushed a dull purple. Was it anger at his predicament? 

“I’m very sorry about this, Miss Michi,” he gurgled apologetically, as the last of his quirk bubbled from his mouth into a viscous oil that was spat out onto Michiko’s face.

With a shout of surprise, Michiko’s grip loosened enough for the slick oils still coating Jetsam’s arms to allow him to escape her grasp. Vision impared by the pollution covering her forehead and dripping into her eyes and nose, Michiko was unable to dodge the hefty push against her chest as Jetsam scrambled away from her touch, getting onto his feet. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for his quirk to return in full force.

“Again, words cannot express how sorry I am for doing that.” Jetsam called out to her, although his speech was hard to make out with the thick pollutants leaking from his mouth.

Michiko shot up from the floor, furiously wiping at her face to clear it of the oil. Once her vision returned, she turned to face Jetsam. The two ran at each other, trading blows and each trying to grapple the other into submission. The build-up of tar and oils worked as a double edged sword; Jetsam easily slipped from Michi’s grasp, but she also used that to her advantage to slide out of the way of his attacks. 

Then, there it was: that single, gleaming moment where Michiko could see the exhaustion, see Jetsam’s attention waning as the fight dragged on for just a bit too long. Right there! He was right by the boundary line, and had miscalculated a move that left him off-balance and vulnerable.

‘Sorry Jetsam,’ Michiko thought as she built momentum for her final blow, ‘but I am grateful for this amazing fight!’

Just as her victorious punch was about to make contact with Jetsam’s awaiting back, she felt herself freeze, involuntarily. Her arm was stuck in position, unable to move. She tried shifting her feet, but to no avail. Her whole body was frozen in place, like some sort of statue!

After a brief moment of panic, Michiko quickly realized what was happening. The tar. The tar Jetsam had been producing. He had mixed it with all the other pollutants as they fought, and as she was coated throughout the battle, the tar was turning thicker and thicker, until it encased her whole body into a stiff, immovable statue. 

She struggled, trying to thrash her way out of the viscous black coffin, but to no avail. She could no longer continue fighting. She had lost. 

The crowd burst into cheers and jeers as they realized that the match had been settled, the announcer calling out “AND THE WINNER IS, JETSAM KISA!”

As soon as the decision was announced, Michiko felt the tar slide off her body, like showering off a thick coating of muck, until only black stains remained on her body and clothing.

Jetsam sheepishly looked over at her, hand anxiously scratching at the back of his neck.

“So… that was really, really gross. I’m so sorry. But you were incredible! You almost had me so many times!!” Jetsam babbled out, getting more and more flustered as he continued. “I understand if you’re upset, but we promised we wouldn’t hold back and-”

“That was a great match! I had such a good time, and you really tested out my limits!” Michiko interrupted, smiled brightly at him as she held out her hand for him to shake. “But I’m warning you, next time I’ll be the one to come out on top!”

Jetsam smiled softly as he took her hand and reciprocated the shake.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[nitewrighter]

Make the AU, Nitey

Just for the record, this is @azaeleia ’s fault because I really like this art and I’ve pondered how a Gakuen AU might look for a while.

----

The thrum of cicadas whirred from the trees that marked the edge of campus, their sounds seemingly gaining momentum over the open air of the track and the green. Overwatch Academy was a stately boarding school with a sleek modern architecture that seemed to have echoes of old Georgian dignity. Genji slumped against the stucco wall of the gymnasium, smacking his lips to try and get the blood from his teeth. He wiped the back of his hand across his nose and mouth and huffed at the streak of red that marked the back of it, sticky in the kicked-up dust and grunted with some disgust. The blaze of furious adrenaline was fading and the bruises were setting in. He just needed a few seconds before getting up, that was all. He glanced down at his uniform and sighed--it was covered in dirt and grass stains from the tussle, and a few specks of blood from his nose and lips.. What a mess... he wouldn’t hear the end of it from Hanzo.

Classes for the day had let out nearly two hours ago, and now were the few hours devoted to intramural activities such as sports and arts and other programs before the students were called in for dinner in the dining hall and sent to their dorms for the evening.

Or in Genji’s assailants’ case, wander off to the areas of the campus that were too far-flung to be monitored and unintentionally re-enact Lord of the Flies. They were bullying Zen (again), and Genji intervened. He wasn’t sure if he could really say his intentions were purely noble, rushing to defend Zen, as he often found himself in fights by virtue of his own mouth--but he figured he was a lot more used to fights than Zen, and thus here he was, dirty, bruised, and feeling more stupid than heroic.

“Genji!” A pair of scuffed saddle shoes skidded to a dusty halt in front of him and Genji glanced up to see a familiar skinny figure in a blouse and the blue pleated skirt of their uniform. Angela Ziegler carried herself stiffly, and sometimes you could make out the faint lines of her back brace through her blouse. She buckled over rigidly, like a doll, with her hands on her knobby knees to catch her breath.

“Class rep...?” said Genji, squinting to make eye-contact with her. Angela Ziegler was a bit of an odd duck among their peers, one of those kids who acted like a mini-adult while not being aware they acted like a mini-adult. She was a favorite of Professor de Kuiper, elected to the position of Class Rep not because she was popular, but because she was universally recognized as a busybody who would probably push her way to the position anyway to see that things got done. As she pulled herself back up to an upright postion, head eclipsed the sun but was still blinding in its blondness. “But,” Genji eked out the words, “How did you--?”

Angela looked back over her shoulder and Genji made out another kid, bronzey-tan, shorter and even skinnier than Angela with a close-shaved head, sage, heavy-lidded eyes, and the remains of a surgically corrected harelip.

“Zen, I told you to go,” said Genji trying to push himself up to his feet, the stucco prickling the skin of his palms with the action.

“I did, and then I got help,” Zen answered mildly.

Genji shot him a dark look as Angela looked around, “Did you see where they went?”

“It’s fine,” Genji said, his voice half a growl, “They’re long gone by now.”

“Who was it?” said Angela.

Genji’s lips tightened. 

“Genji,” Angela put her hands on her hips.

“Just Max and his goons again,” Genji said sullenly, “So crying to Professor de Kuiper isn’t going to do anything.”  Max’s family were wealthy donors to the school. Kids like him tended to only get a slap on the wrist, come back to inflict more pain as a reaction to getting in trouble, all the while getting better at not getting caught.

“We wouldn’t be crying to him--” she started but then huffed and held out a hand to him, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Genji took her hand and she and Zen helped him up to his feet. She blinked at a dirty, bloody abrasion on his arm and another on his hand from when he was shoved hard to the ground. “You can walk, right?”

“Of course I can walk,” said Genji, limping a little.

“This way,” said Angela, taking his non-injured arm and walking around the gym.

“I don’t want to go to the nurse,” muttered Genji.

“I have a first aid kit in my gym locker,” said Angela, “It’s closer.”

“Nerd,” the scoffing word came out of him on reflex.

“It’s coming in handy, isn’t it?” she said, arching an eyebrow at him. The three of them headed over to where the locker rooms of the Gym emptied lead out to the green. In the distance, the school soccer team thundered around the grass, their shouts and laughs mingling with the screech of cicadas. 

Zen held down the button on a drinking fountain and Genji sloshed up water onto his face, feeling it go from lukewarm to shockingly cold as he washed and watching his own watered down blood splash pink against the white of the fountain’s basin. He got a mouthful of water and swished it around, trying to get the dirt and blood from his teeth.

“Got it!” Angela briskly walked out of the girl’s locker room just as Genji was spitting bloodied water into the drinking fountain’s basin, and he made eye contact with her. She had a neat little first aid kit in hand but her lips were pulled back from her teeth in a grimace at him spitting. Genji looked up at her from the fountain, face dripping, moving to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand again, but she reached into the breast pocket of her blouse and held out a cloth handkerchief to him. His brow crinkled as he gingerly took it from her, and he couldn’t keep eye contact with her as he padded at his face with the handkerchief. He looked from the handkerchief to her but she was already sitting down on the bench outside the locker room and rifling through the little first aid kit. Genji pressed the handkerchief to his mouth, then padded it around his dripping jawline and the wet margins of his face. 

“Here, sit down,” said Angela, taking a small disinfectant wipe from the first aid kit and tearing it out of its wrapper.

Genji moved to sit but grunted in pain in the process at what was surely a wide bruise on his leg. 

“You were limping earlier,” said Angela.

“Yeah.”

“Is the skin broken?” said Angela.

“I don’t think so,” said Genji.

“Zen, can you head to the science lab? Professor de Kuiper has an ice pack in his fridge. Just say it’s for one of the soccer players.”

“Mm-hmm,” Zen gave a short nod before jogging off. 

“Why were they picking on him?” said Angela, wiping the disinfectant wipe across the bloody abrasion on Genji’s arm as Zen exited earshot. Genji drew in a sharp inhale through his nostrils as she wiped grains of gravel from the injury.

“‘Cuz he’s weird,” said Genji with a shrug.

“He’s not weird, he’s nice,” said Angela, in her mini-adult way. 

“He’s nice in a weird way. I guess it makes other people think he thinks they’re better than him,” mumbled Genji.

“Well that’s just childish,” said Angela crisply.

“I mean, we are kids,” said Genji.

“That’s not an excuse!” said Angela.

“You’re a kid too, you know,” said Genji.

“Exactly! Like, it’s not hard to be nice!” Angela rubbed the disinfectant wipe a little too hard and Genji winced, “Sorry--! Sorry...”

Genji snorted a little.

“What?” said Angela.

“Nothing, I just...it’s kind of funny that you say that when you’re getting mad,” said Genji.

“I’m not getting mad!” Angela argued and then caught herself, “Oh--you--! You need to be more careful! You should have gotten an adult! When they were picking on Zen, you should have gotten a teacher! Not gone all.... fighting... guy! Who fights things!”

Genji rolled his eyes. “You’re class rep. You wouldn’t get it,” he muttered.

Her big blue eyes widened with insulted alarm. “What wouldn’t I get!?” she said. 

“Well... you and Zen... the teachers like you,” said Genji.

“So?” said Angela. 

“So they treat you better,” said Genji.

“So everyone has to treat Zen and me worse to make up for it?” said Angela, setting the disinfectant wipe aside.

“I don’t know,” sighed Genji, leaning against the painted brick of the locker room. He blinked a few times. “Do they treat you badly?” he said, glancing over at her.

“No... they don’t... treat me like anything,” said Angela, now taking a bandage and wrapping it around the abrasion, “...they...don’t talk to me unless they have to. Maybe if they forgot an assignment...” she trailed off and then caught herself, “I mean--I--I hang out with Mei! Sometimes... when she’s not with her tutors...”

Genji looked over at her, his brow crinkling. Her blond hair was shrouding one eye as she worked. She always seemed so smart and together that he had never really considered she could be lonely. Her eyes were fixed on his palm now, wiping another disinfecting wipe across its heel, 

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

She glanced up.

“For uh... all this. I’ll clean up more at the dorms but... this helps. Are--are you going to tell...?”

“...not unless you and Zen get in trouble again,” said Angela, glancing off, “But--you should feel like you can go to the teachers for help! That’s--that’s what their job is...” she trailed off. She furrowed her brow. “And--and you can come to me, too. I’m the class rep, after all.” A small smile spread on her lips.

“Sure thing, class rep,” said Genji. A pause passed. “You know... on Thursdays, there’s like, a whole 3 hours between where the AV club leaves the media center, and the janitor comes in to kick you out, so sometimes McCree and I watch bad horror movies in there.”

“Bad horror movies?”

“Yeah! And you eat a bunch of junk food and make fun of them! It’s great!”

“...why wouldn’t you just watch good horror movies?”

Genji huffed. “You’re killing me, Rep.”

Angela blinked. “Wait--are--are you saying I can come? On Thursdays?”

“Yeah,” Genji shrugged. 

The brief, heartbreakingly bright emotion that rippled across her face, the awe, made Genji’s stomach lurch. She quickly tried to regain her composure before focusing on unwrapping another bandage. “Yeah! Thursdays!” she tried to sound casual as she placed the bandage over the scrape on his hand, “Thursdays are--I like Thursdays.”

Genji smiled a little and she pushed her hair back from her eyes. She smoothed her thumb over the adhesive bandage she had put on the heel of his palm. There was a steadiness to the motion that caught his attention, how much care and warmth that tiny action seemed to hint toward.

“I’ve gotten the ice pack,” a calm voice piped up and both of them flinched to alertness. Angela quickly released his hand and they both looked up to see Zen calmly presenting a blue ice pack which Genji eagerly grabbed and put over the bruise on his leg with a sigh of relief. Angela blinked a few times and then quickly stood up.

 “Well--um-- is-- does anything else hurt?” she said, holding her little first aid kit in a white-knuckled grip.

“Uh.. I... think I can handle it from here if you need to go,” said Genji.

“Yes--I just remembered I.... have... homework. So much homework. And I should do it. So I’ll... see you in class?”

“Yeah,” said Genji, “See you in class.

“Mm-hm,” she gave a quick nod and then quickly disappeared back into the locker room. Genji sighed and pressed his back against the wall behind the bench, before he noticed a small rag crumpled at his side.

“Hey--Rep, you forgot your--” Genji picked up the handkerchief and pushed up from the bench and grunted, pressing the ice pack to his leg as he became aware of his bruise again with his own movement, but then he looked at the handkerchief, now soddened with blood and dirt and water. What was he going to do? Call her back and have her take the filthy thing? He sighed and sank back onto the bench, holding the ice pack to his leg with one hand and the damp, dirty handkerchief in the other. He glanced back at Zen to see him smiling with such an irritating serenity that Genji wouldn’t be surprised if it were the sort of expression that got him into trouble with Max or his goons in the first place. 

“What?” said Genji.

“Are you going to give it back to her?” said Zen.

“I dunno, it’s stupid. Who carries around cloth handkerchiefs? It’s gross. Look at it, it’s gross already.”

“...you could wash it and give it back,” Zen said with a shrug.

“Well of course I’m going to wash it before I give it back,” Genji huffed only to see Zen was beaming now. “Oh get over it.”

[tf2-parqcxsm]

Spy x Reader: Babysitting

a bit of spydad. let's just assume you have a baby nephew and a sister in this story. :)

The French man sat on his fancy chair, which was placed beside the casual-looking couch. Ever since you and Spy purchased this house, every corner looked like it was a mix of elegance and informality. It often ticked him off, but he eventually got used to it. He grabbed his cigarette and took it away from his mouth, puffing out a patch of smoke. The grayish gas made its way above and disappeared into thinness, it slightly left a funny smell in the room and made the atmosphere to be even more indulging.

For Spy, at least.

It was another boring day, you had to leave the house all to him and go somewhere. Spy would always insist that you tell him where you're going, but you would laugh it off and give him a quick peck on the cheek before storming off. He had suspicions, but he shook the feeling off. He didn't want to doubt you, the precious sweetheart of his life.

Even so, it felt boring without you. You were a chaotic but a genuinely fun person to be with. He couldn't ask for someone better than you. A sigh escaped from his lips as soon as his mind settled on the thoughts of you, he grabbed the newspaper from the table to distract himself away from these emotions. He started reading the headline, "MALL SANTA WAS KNOCKED OUT BY STRANGE MAN WITH HELMET!"

Spy groaned when he recognized who it was talking about. He rolled the newspaper and placed it back from its original placement. He stood up from his chair and headed towards the kitchen, he was supposed to grab a treat, when you suddenly barged into the room.

With a baby in your arms.

Spy nearly jumped in surprise at your sudden appearance, he turned around and tried to reach for you, "Mon chéri, what are you—"

You swiftly placed the baby in his arms, "No time to explain! I have to go! Take care of the baby, bye, I love you!" Explaining everything so quickly, you just simply placed a kiss on his lips and ran outside like there was a killer chasing you. Spy blinked his eyes multiple times, unable to understand what the hell just happened, before setting his attention to the baby who was sleeping soundly in his arms. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, "Why…"

He was never good with children. You knew that. Why would you leave him in a situation like this? He couldn't even give Scou—

Anyway. The baby eventually woke up due to Spy's uncomfortable shifting. He had to place him down on the table — very thoughtful of him — because he wasn't so used to holding a child, watching him from a distance and a hand on his chin. "What should I do with you..?" He mumbled, whether it was to the baby or to himself, heaven only knows. The baby tilted his head, giving Spy the eyes of curiosity, which just made him cringe. A wide smile crept to his face, giggling. He raised his arms up high, as if he was trying to reach for something. He then started to crawl towards Spy.

It took awhile for the masked gentleman to realize what was happening. He was going to fall! Spy quickly ran to him and managed to catch him before he made contact with the floor. Putting his hands under the baby's arms, Spy narrowed his eyes. "Mon dieu, you're quite the disgraceful one." He uttered, somewhat causing the baby to raise his arms once again. Spy moved him away with a displeased expression on his face, he didn't want to be touched with those dirty little hands. Who knows what the baby has touched!

The baby frowned when he felt Spy's presence to be farther away from him, "Mama? Mama!" Tears started to form around his eyes as he yelled for his mama. Both concern and confusion filled Spy's head. He raised an eyebrow, "What? Non, non." He placed the baby down again on the table, he raised a finger to point out a fact. "I am NOT your mother." The baby didn't seem to like his response, as he started to let out tiny sobs. The annoyed expression on Spy's face quickly dissolved into a concerned one. How was he supposed to react?!

"Unless…?"

Unless YOU were the mother.

"(Y/n)'s your mother, isn't she?"

Spy felt a pang of sadness in his heart. Although, being an expressionless person, the emotion didn't seep out to most people. But he felt it, right through his chest and soul. "Well, it would make sense, right?" He studied the baby's features, he had most of your appearance. (H/c) hair, (e/c) eyes, and (s/c) skin. He looked exactly like you! Just a male version. And a baby version.

He doesn't remember doing any sensual activity with you. In fact, he doesn't remember your stomach growing at all! All kinds of thoughts ran through Spy's head, somewhat leaving a bitter feeling. His series of thoughts were interrupted when the baby finally wailed loudly, his cries echoing through the room and irritating Spy's sense of hearing. "Ugh..what do you want now?"

Some Time Later

As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, you immediately opened the door and ran towards the house you and Spy shared. Slamming the door open, you yelled, "Spy?! Where's the baby?!"

You scanned the surroundings and your eyes landed on Spy, who was sitting on his chair with a rather lazy position. His back was completely slacked off on the chair as his head was tucked in his shoulders. He even held his cigarette lazily. You couldn't help but snicker at the sight. "He's over there." He pointed at the ground, which you brought your gaze to. The baby held a box, and was chewing the whole pack. A gasp escaped from your lips, you quickly ran over to pick him up and got the object away from him. "Spy, what did you give him?!" You exclaimed in worry, snapping your head towards your masked lover.

He simply huffed at your question, "Don't make such a ruckus. I only gave him juice." The unusual behavior from Spy made you even more worried. You held the baby firmly in your hands as you walked over to the French man. "Spy? Are you okay?" You questioned, softly this time. The baby attempted to reach for the box that you held in your hand, but you quickly shut him away with a 'no'.

"Okay? Do I look okay?" Spy spatted bitterly at you, which surprised you and caused your eyes to widen. "Actually, why even ask? You have your other lover waiting for you outside, right? Go ahead. Leave the house with that filthy baby." He hissed, the venom in his voice sending shivers down your spine. His glare speared through you, even with the mask, you could see the wrinkles he had when he furrowed his eyebrows. Your heart sank at his words. "Spy, this—"

"Don't even try to explain. Just leave."

"This is my sister's!"

Spy stopped dead in his tracks while he was walking up the stairs. "What?" He slowly turned his head to you, and once his gaze landed on you, his eyes widened. You were nearly crying, "This is my nephew! Why would I have a baby with another man?!" You yelled at him, despite knowing that the baby in your arms will probably cry due to your yelling, but he merely played around your shoulders and made some tiny noises. You couldn't believe Spy would think of you like that.

A sniffle seemed to come out, and tears blurred up your vision. You managed to wipe them away with your free arm. As soon as you dropped your arm, you were faced with your lover, a serious but an apologetic look on his face. You tried to drag your gaze away, but he already had his hands — which were not gloved — on your cheeks, gently caressing away the paths that your salty tears took. "I'm sorry. I thought—"

"Yeah, I know. It's my fault too." You leaned into his touch. You were so glad about the fact that he decided to take his gloves off, you could feel the warmth of his hand melt into your skin. Every time you feel his hands running through any part of your body, you would immediately tense up. But when it's on your cheeks, you just simply lean towards him, wanting to feel more of his touch. You wish he would take off his mask more often too. Spy sighed, opening his mouth to say something again.

"Hi, sis!! Where's my— Oh…"

There came your sister, laughing nervously when she saw you in close contact with Spy. "Oh, sorry! Am I interrupting something?" She questioned, and you quickly walked towards her as Spy stayed behind. "No, it's okay. Here's your baby." You carefully gave her the young child, and he started to laugh adorably as soon as he saw his real mother. You smiled at the sight in front of you, an image of you and Spy having a baby flashed through your mind, which almost made you tear up.

"Well, we better get going now! Thank you again for taking care of my son!" Your sister waved at Spy as a thank you, to which he rudely looked away from. You cleared your throat to drift your sister's attention away from him, and laughed nervously, "Pardon him. He's not really good with people." You explained. She smirked at you, and that caused you to push her out of the house.

As your sister drove away with her truck, you waved at her whilst leaning against the doorframe. The vehicle slowly descended to the horizon, and once it's gone, you allowed a sad sigh to escape from your lips and rubbed your temple. An arm made its way around your waist and pressed you against them. You looked up to your side just to see the smooth jawline of your French lover, he was also looking over to where the vehicle was driving off to. You chuckled lovingly at the sight.

"Don't you ever dare replace me with another man." Spy uttered, with a hint of desperation in his voice. You rolled your eyes at him, "Why would I?" He turned his head to you, the corners of his lips turning up at your question.

"Because I'm irreplaceable."

"Pff— Yeah, right."

He leaned to your face, his arms still wrapped around your waist, bringing you to a deep, passionate kiss. He didn't want to let go of you, he especially didn't want to lose you to another man.

He loves you.

[sleephyjhs]

Internal Tigress (Special Post)

pairing: cheater!yoongi x reader

genre: heavy angst

summary: he’d been disappearing for longer each time. your voicemails haunted his inbox. you were way past the point of return, but your suppressed emotions made it hard for you to confront him. however, an elastic band can only stretch so far before it snaps.

word count: 1.9k

notes: this is so late it’s past fashionable, but thank you for 500 followers! next time i’ll have a much better surprise, i promise. i’d also like to add that this au doesn’t reflect my actual beliefs of yoongi as a person

tw: heated arguments, cheating

rules | m.list | 500 followers special

For hours, melted candle wax had dripped from the stand onto the marble kitchen counter, and for hours, you had failed to stop it. Somehow, watching the candlestick melt was less tedious than waiting for him. The burning scent of jasmine and sandalwood hung bitter in the air, not too dissimilar from Yoongi’s earlier promise.

Three years of devoting your love to him had come to this; a one-person dinner date. On such a monumental day for you as a couple, announcing he was going out by himself was reasonably unexpected. It had become apparent to you within minutes of waking up that morning that Yoongi was in fact clueless over the sentiments of that day. Not a single romantic gesture had reached your vicinity. Not even a card.

And yet you still made the effort to celebrate for him. Earlier that week when he had questioned your extra, unusual groceries, it still didn’t prod the event in his mind. The lower the candlestick burned, the more you pondered on your idiocy. Why had you even bothered? You could have bet money on Yoongi being none the wiser.

Just as the wick curled into the ceramic stand, you reminded yourself just why you made the effort. He’d become more and more distant in the last weeks. Some nights, he walked out the door without a word and wouldn’t return until the early morning. But your efforts came from not wanting to believe he had fallen out of love with you. A small part of you refused to accept your romance was virtually over.

Too many nights ago, you’d wondered if you were unreasonable. Of course, he was a grown man and you were nobody to stop him from going out. But refusing to answer his phone, or even telling you where he’d be? It became too suspicious too quickly.

With only the light from the television, you ate your half of the anniversary meal you’d prepared in the familiar silence. Even the quiet was a better conversation than what you would have had anyway. Ironically, you were usually a fan on the meals you made for yourself, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy it.

To make a point, you left your used dish on the island counter opposite the full one meant for your partner. Your wine glass had stained red by the little residue left at the bottom; the wine in the other glass sat stale. Waiting for him to arrive home was a tedious couple of hours, but the saturday night shows managed to get you through it.

The monotonous beeping of the keypad outside your door led your heart to beat faster. Confrontation was a secret weapon you wielded well, but the few seconds that laid between you and Yoongi were too few to think of the right words. Really, you weren’t sure whether you were angry or disappointed, or both.

You focused your attention on the screen before you as he pushed the door open and sneaked through the gap. From the corner of your eye, you watched him glance at you before turning to the kitchen. An audible sigh echoed in your silence. Already, a few angry tears began to gather at your eyelids.

“I got you these.” Yoongi offered, walking closer to the couch. Your eyes glared to the side to see his outstretched arm holding a box of your favourite chocolates, “Listen, I’m really sorry. There’s been a lot on my mind lately and-“

“You aren’t sorry at all.” You replied bluntly, turning back to the screen. It was painful even just to be in the same room as him; there were no words you could say to him that could ever deliver your full anger in that moment, “If I hadn’t made you a whole anniversary meal then you wouldn’t have said anything to me when you walked through that door. You and I both know that.”

Another tense silence was broken by the box of chocolates landing next to your seat, “Fine. Take them or leave them.”

His blunt remark confirmed to you that he no longer cared for your relationship and prompted your growing distaste for his new character. You’d told yourself earlier that evening that a heartfelt apology might have changed your mind about your dead-end love, but all of your hope was lost. His feelings were clear enough, “I’ll leave them.”

You breathed sharply, rushing from the couch towards your shared bedroom. The tears wouldn’t stop themselves, and the last thing you needed was for him to see you so vulnerable, “Where are you going?” He asked sternly, grabbing a hold of your arm as you stormed away.

Without hesitating, you yanked your arm from his grip and swivelled to face him. Maybe seeing you so distraught would tell him a thing or two, “Get the fuck off of me. It’s obvious you don’t want to be near me, so why would I put you through it?” Raising your voice is something you hated doing, but targeting your anger at the man who caused it all was much needed.

“I just went out to get you those chocolates, I don’t see what the problem is.” But he knew what he’d done wrong. After however many years you’d known Yoongi, not once had he admitted he was wrong so quickly. If anything, he’d only confirmed what you first said; he wasn’t sorry at all.

“It doesn’t take four fucking hours to go to the convenience store. You disappear so much now, I never know where you are. I’d thought that on our anniversary you’d want to spend time with me for a change, but you didn’t remember.” He stuttered , fumbling for the words to defend himself with, “Dont bother. You’ve been done with me for a while, it was just never convenient for you to drop me.”

Salty tears burnt your throat as they smeared the mascara you’d applied generously earlier in the evening. Looking at Yoongi was torture. The man who you placed so much faith for your future in was stood before you, clearly unable to defend himself. For the second time, you headed for your bedroom, believing he wouldn’t follow.

When his hand reached your shoulder to turn you around again, the stretching elastic band in your brain snapped, “I told you to get the fuck off of me! All you had to do was be honest with me, and even that much is too hard for you? You’re unbelievable, Yoongi. Just unbelievable.”

“You do know that I’m an adult, right? You’re nobody to stop me from going anywhere, nor do you need to have tabs on me all the time.”

The ignorance of his statement dragged a scoff from your lips, “I never stopped you. You have no idea how worrying it is when I can’t get a hold of you. If there was an emergency you wouldn’t have known any better. You never used to be like this, I just don’t understand!”

Through your blurring tears, you caught Yoongi reaching for you for a third time, “Look, you’re just being hysterical now. Calm down, seriously.”

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You cut his speech from the beginning and leaned over your bed to reach one of his pillows, “Sleep on the couch, on the floor. Wherever, I don’t care. I’m too angry to even look at you. Wherever you were, I hope you had a better night than I did.”

The next morning, you walked out into the crispy air of your apartment to be greeted by a cleaned living space. The dishes from last night were gone, and the pillow you almost threw at Yoongi was rested on top of the folded blanket. A pounding headache had woken you from your disrupted slumber, and trying to remember what had been happened the night before was no remedy.

After you were sure he was gone once again, you thought ahead to reviving your willingness to socialise. In response to Yoongi’s disappearances, you organised a quiet night out with your best friend, on the town. Your attempts to equal his absence would be appreciated by nobody but yourself; perhaps a bit of self-care was what you needed.

Instead of sharing an anniversary meal with your ‘partner’, you treated your best friend to a bigger, more fulfilling meal just out of gratitude. She’d picked you up in your lowest points, and there she was doing it all over again.

Before you left the restaurant, you visited the bathrooms just to retouch your makeup. But in the midst of reapplying gentle blush, you caught your attention on the several jewellery items you were wearing that had been purchased by Yoongi. More coincidentally, the necklace he bought you for your first birthday as a couple and the promise ring he’d given you last year for your second anniversary.

In light of trying to bring yourself to a happier state of mind, you pushed any thoughts of him to the side and focused on the present. As hard as it was, the light humour your friend provided soon distracted you.

An activity both you and your friend enjoyed was walking through Seoul nature parks late at night. Cherry blossoms glowed humbly under moonlight, and the trickling of clear river water set the perfect atmosphere for evening strolls. Luckily, you were within walking distance. It wouldn’t have taken you long to get there.

Your friend had linked her arm with yours to guide you to the park; it was one of her ways of looking after you, making sure you couldn’t stray away from the given path. As you both giggled from another one of her lighthearted jokes, she paused in her track and gazed across the wide city road, “There’s no way that’s Yoongi over there.”

You lined your eyes parallel to hers to observe across the road, where a man and woman stood body to body in a close embrace illuminated by bright cafe lights. It was clear to see their fingers interlaced as the man leaned down to seemingly whisper in her ear. When he stood erect again, the cafe casted a light upon his face so perfect it was clear it was him. It was Yoongi.

“No, where are you going?” Before your friend could say anything to stop you, you turned back for the pedestrian crossing and stormed across with the ocean of moving citizens. In your sudden despair and anger blocked her calling for your name as you ploughed across the road. That’s where he’d been all these times. He’d been with some other woman.

As you approached Yoongi and his new fling, you unfastened the necklace that hung around your neck and slid his promise ring from the base of your finger. They were only bad omens anyway, “So this is where you’ve been? All these fucking times, you’ve been with somebody else?” You confronted him, watching in disgust as he made eye contact with you, “Here, have these back. They’re no use to me anymore.”

Without double-crossing yourself, you threw the jewellery at him, watching it fall the the dirty pavement below. You witnessed as his face fell void of thoughts. If you knew Yoongi, you knew there’d be nothing for him to say. He’d been caught by you, the worst person to be caught by, “Your shit will be outside the apartment. If it’s not gone in 3 days it’s going to charity. Thanks for the heartache, I appreciate it.”

[arvandus]

Always Come Home

So, I decided to write this quick Izuku X Reader snippet before bed and ended up staying up way later than I intended.  Oh well! I’m a sucker for dramatic first kisses, so maybe I’ll make this a series of one-shots with a variety of BNHA characters. Anyway, let me know what you think, thanks for reading!

WARNINGS: Fluff.  Like, really sappy fluff.  With slight angst.

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya X reader

 You stormed into the hospital, the sound of your shoes echoing off of the white walls like a hammer striking an anvil.  Your feet took you straight to the front desk while your head swam with a rush of feelings. Worry.  Anger.  Fear…

“Midoriya, Izuku.” You stated to the receptionist who eyed you like a deer in headlights.  Your words weren’t a question, but an order. You were going to see Midoriya, and when you did you were going to kick his ass.

“Room 531, 5th floor.” The receptionist replied.  You gave a curt thanks, not wanting to scar the woman with your off-putting demeanor. After all, it wasn’t her fault that Izuku managed to get himself hospitalized from a villain fight, again.  It seems to be his favorite MO.  You’d think knowing him as long and as well as you have would numb you to his antics, but the pounding in your chest told you otherwise.

You pressed the button for the elevator, your arms crossed in front of your chest to keep you from fidgeting. You watched as the red numbers slowly changed from high to low, and you contemplated taking the stairs.  You got the mental picture of storming into Izuku’s room sweaty and panting and decided against it.  You didn’t want to look desperate…

Really, you didn’t want to look like you cared too much.  Because the truth of it was, you did.  It wasn’t always that way, of course.  You had started out just friends.  But Izuku had a way of getting into the hearts of people, disarming even the most stoic or the most difficult of personalities with his kind, outgoing, yet incredibly brash demeanor.  Your heart got it the worst.  His smiling face occupied your thoughts far more than you’d like to admit to yourself, let alone anyone else.

The elevator doors finally opened up for you, and you entered, eagerly pressing the right button. The elevator was empty, thankfully… it gave you a moment to compose yourself, to wipe your hand across your face and lean your head back against the cool metal to help still your racing heart.

Little good that did you. When the doors opened, you felt your pulse quicken again as you left the elevator.  As you approached Izuku’s room, your steps began to falter until you paused outside his open door.  Light from his room spilled out into the hallway, overpowering the pale fluorescent lighting that flickered from the ceiling above.  You took a deep breath and forced yourself to enter the room, a smile in place.

Your breath hitched in your throat, forming an unwelcome lump that you struggled to swallow.

Izuku was awake, thankfully, but the majority of his body was wrapped in bandages.  His head was wrapped, his eye purple and swollen, and his lip sported a cut colored in dried blood.  Still, despite his sorry state, he noticed you as soon as you walked in, and greeted you with a big smile.

“Hey!” he exclaimed.  “You didn’t have to come visit me.”

His enthusiasm snapped you out of your shock, and you scoffed at him.  “Of course, I did.  Every time I visit you, you get better.” You teased.  You gave him a very obvious once-over as you took the chair next his bed.  “Trust me, it looks like you need it.”

His warm laugh scattered your dark swirling emotions, drawing a true smile on your face at his mirth. “Well, I guess you’re right.  It’s really not that bad, though…”  his body betrayed him as he winced in pain, his hand instinctively clutching his bandaged side.  The dark cloud around you that he had scared away a moment before returned in full force.

He always did this.  He always downplayed how bad it was, how close he got to losing.  You bit your cheek to tame your words.  “It looks pretty bad to me…” you replied softly.

His laughter went quiet as his green eyes stared into yours in a way that made you want to hide.  You mentally kicked yourself for being a little too honest, for letting your emotions sneak out with your words.  “Y/N…” he said softly.  “Are… you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You replied, but the words came out rushed, too fast to be convincing.

“You’re not fine.” He stated.

No, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to be happening this way.  You came here to check on him, to see if there was anything he needed.  Joke, tease, and maintain the status quo.  He was supposed to focus on himself, on healing and getting better.  Instead, he was worrying about you, and in typical Izuku fashion, he wanted access to your heart so he could help you fix whatever was broken.  He was like a blood hound that caught a scent and wouldn’t let up.

“I’m fine.” You struggled to be more convincing, offering him a smile, but your eyes couldn’t meet his.  He was unraveling you like a loose thread and you could feel yourself slowly becoming undone.

“You’re not.” He insisted.  “What’s wrong?  You’ve never acted like this before.” he asked, his voice more desperate.  His hand reached out to you, but you stood up from your chair, putting distance between you.

“Why are you pushing this, Izuku?” you replied, your composure finally lost.

“Because I want to help you!” Izuku replied, his brow furrowed in confusion, and rightfully so. You’d never kept secrets from him (at least ones that didn’t involve him).  You’d always had a very open friendship, filled with long mutual heart-felt discussions.   And you’d never, never been mad at him before.  “Was it something I said?” the worry laced in his words was palpable and cut you to the core.  You didn’t want to hurt him.

You walked over towards the window and leaned against the windowsill, staring outside at the people walking the courtyard below.  Your brain didn’t register what you were looking at, though.  It was too busy trying to juggle jumbled feelings and broken words into something cohesive and honest.

“I hate seeing you like this.” You finally replied, keeping your eyes trained outside.

“Is that what this is about?” Izuku asked, his voice at ease again.  “I’m okay, Y/N.  It doesn’t even hurt that much.  You shouldn’t worry about me.”

A frustrated groan escaped your lips and you spun on him, your eyes glistening with tears.  “That’s just it, Izuku.  I do worry about you.  I worry about you all the time, and it hurts me.  It hurts me to see you hurt like this.”

“Y/N…” he breathed your name, and it brushed across your soul like a cool spring breeze across the tender petals of a flower.  Your breath hitched in your throat.

 “Don’t.” you croaked, your voicing cracking with emotion.  “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

You gestured at his overall presence, “That.  You. I don’t know!”  You wiped your hands over your face in frustration.  “You make everything so hard.  You’re kind, and gentle, and sweet, and you’re always there for me and I can’t imagine my life without you.  But then you run off, always rushing into danger, and you’re never careful with yourself.  I know you’re a hero and it comes with the job, but you do it so recklessly. I know it’s because you care, because you’ll do whatever it takes to win and save people.  But I’m afraid...I’m afraid that one of these days you… you won’t come back.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak anymore, the lump in your throat blocking your words, as you tried to sniff at your suddenly running nose.  God, you probably looked terrible right now.  You turned your back on him quickly, struggling to hold onto some of your remaining dignity.  You knew you had probably said too much, and what’s worse, you probably sounded selfish, as if your feelings for him were more important than protecting innocent lives. You could feel a sinking into your gut that settled into nausea.  He was probably questioning everything, now.  Your friendship, how he accidentally let you get attached, or worse, questioning you as a person.  The thought was unbearable.

You heard the shuffle of the bed covers being moved and the creak of the hospital bed as he sat up. You spun around and looked at him with incredulity.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing??” you demanded.  “Stay in bed, you idiot!”

But he ignored you, and you could see from the set of his jaw that his stubborn side was activated. Izuku was a sweet guy, but he was no pushover.  He closed the gap between you in a few easy strides and before you could protest, he wrapped his arms around you.  You couldn’t push him away – you didn’t want to hurt him, after all.  You could feel his strong arms around you, their bandages scratching your skin, the warmth of his chest pressed against your face as you could hear his strong, very much alive, heartbeat.  Shock flooded your system, washing away negativity and filling it with confusion and warmth.  Silent tears fell from your eyes, then more and more and they wouldn’t stop, and all you could do was wrap your arms around him.

His voice whispered softly next to your ear, “I’m sorry, Y/N.  I didn’t know.”

“I can’t lose you.” You whispered back, and you felt his arms tighten around you in response.

“You won’t.” Izuku replied, his voice soft.  He pulled away just enough to look at you.  You stared at his now tear-stained hospital gown in embarrassment.  You had thought that would be it; one friend comforting another.  But then his calloused finger touched your chin, tilting your head up until you looked him in the eyes.

Green eyes, shining with emotions of his own, met yours.  You felt exposed, seen.  You could tell in how he looked at you that he understood everything.

Everything.

Then his lips met yours, stealing your breath with their softness despite the cut on them.  Your heart pounded at his boldness and you returned the kiss with your arms around his neck and your fingers in his thick, soft hair. It was a perfect moment, frozen in time, when all of your feelings you’d kept silent in a dark hidden box were released into warm sunlight, blossoming and filling you with a fullness you had only dared to imagine up until now.  Happiness, excitement, relief, freedom.

Finally, the moment was over as Izuku pulled away slightly to look at your flushed face.  The finger that had tilted your chin now brushed gently across your jawline as he smiled at you.

“I’ll always come back to you, Y/N.” He whispered the words, as if they were a secret only for you. You smiled and leaned into his touch.

With a mischievous smirk, you booped him gently on the nose with your forefinger.  “You’d better.”

[madeofsplinters]

Fic playlist: In The Faces Of Our Children

I think this is the weakest of my “Playing With Fire” / “oh my god they were co-emperors” playlists. It’s just not very... musically cohesive, I think. If you want a lot of different songs about people struggling with difficult relationships in a way that fits this particular fic, though, then here they are.

The fic: In The Faces Of Our Children

Listen along: [Spotify | YouTube]

Unions - Afraid of the Dark

Tell me how deep have you seen Through the dark that follows me

Our opening song. At the beginning of this story, Luke meets Vader; Vader meets Luke. Whether they're going to be able to bear each other, or even understand each other's truth, is another question. Vader certainly appears to Luke, at first, as nothing but a shadow.

Taylor Swift - this is me trying

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back I have a lot of regrets about that

Vader... really is trying. Very hard. He made a lot of progress in the last fic! He came to terms with a lot of his trauma and made his first baby steps towards righting some of Palpatine's wrongs! He also spent a lot of time hallucinating about a ghost, tried to kill himself, and then ran off and kidnapped his son from the middle of a Rebel training activity. He's a mess, basically. I enjoy getting to write from a mess's point of view.

Sam Tinnesz (feat. Zayde Wolf) - Man or a Monster

It's so hard to tell which side you're on One day is hell, the next day is the dawn

Luke trying hard to figure his father out, and maybe also Vader trying to figure out himself. It's not intuitive for either of them!

Carlie Hanson - Hazel

But you're acting like you're somebody else Like you're losing yourself

Tarkin's phone call with Vader. He is trying very hard! To be a supportive evil boyfriend! While also running the galaxy! But even Tarkin is looking at Vader's recent behavior and being like, dude, WTF. (The singer's frustration with her friend not picking up the phone maps, in my head, to Tarkin's frustration at the fact that Vader just DISAPPEARED for most of a day, immediately following a suicide attempt.)

Hayley Kiyoko - Demons

Don't bother me, my misery It's holding me Won't let me speak

Vader continues wrestling with his mental illness and being very difficult to live with. (There's even a line about lava in this song, it's perfect lol)

Marshmello (with Halsey) - Be Kind

Wanna believe, wanna believe That even when you're stone-cold, you're sorry

Luke feels a hint of remorse and a capacity for caring in Vader's mind, but if that's there, then why is he... well, being Vader? Mysteries abound.

CHVRCHES - Graves

Do you really expect us to care what you're waiting for? When you're high in your castle Keeping an eye on the door

This song works from multiple perspectives in this story, I think. It's Leia, reminding us that she is in the story too, and that there are bigger things at stake here than whether Luke can satisfyingly reconnect with his father. It's Luke, protesting incoherently that the Empire blows up planets, when both of his new father figures seem to think he shouldn't trouble himself about that. In a very strange sideways way it's also Tarkin, trying fruitlessly to remind Vader that the Rebels, including Luke, are not merely wayward children but political threats to the Empire. So much of this story is about personal relationships, but the political backdrop will not allow itself to be ignored forever.

Tones And I - The Kids Are Coming

We got to clean up the mess you've made Still you don't wanna change

This is supposed to be a song about Gen Z but now it's Rivoche and Garoche's, especially Rivoche's. Vader and Tarkin may think they know what ought to happen with their family, but all three of their offspring have a different idea. I just needed a peppy little song that encapsulates at least some of the ridiculousness going on at the Imperial Family's big dinner party, and this delivers.

MXMS - Salvation Hurts

There's a shadow at your door It's a reckoning, reckoning

I really just picked this one because of the title, which is as good a title as any for, as the tags say, a "long slow painful redemption arc."

Linkin Park - What I've Done

For what I've done I start again And whatever pain may come Today this ends

Vader's big turning point.

Hidden Citizens (feat. Tim Halperin) - Don't Speak - Epic Trailer Version

I really feel I'm losing my best friend I can't believe This could be the end

Okay I have no excuse. Well, one excuse. It's a pandemic and Spotify got me briefly hooked on incredibly cheesy ~cinematic covers of pop songs and I heard this one at precisely the wrong time. Anyway, it got wedged into the playlist because it's now associated in my brain with the moment Tarkin realizes Vader's going to side with the Rebels. As over-the-top as it is, it really is just about that earthshaking of a moment for him.

Klergy (feat. Valerie Broussard) - The Beginning of the End

Reckless behaviour Is looking at a man Like he was a savior

Paired with the previous song. Tarkin reflects on when his relationship with Vader could have gone wrong.

Within Temptation - Firelight

Isn't it strange that love is in the way? It never goes away

I really like the two singers of this song, one having sacrificed everything else for the sake of "truth," the other preferring "truce." Leia is certainly on the "truth" side. But things aren't always so simple. Even as she disowns Luke from the Rebellion, she can't completely disavow what he's done for them. Even as she distances herself from Vader, she can't help but notice how earnestly and poignantly Anakin's old Jedi lineage wants him back. No one can fully sever their emotional connections here, even in the face of problems that are seemingly irreconcilable. (In another of those weird sideways ways, Tarkin might also echo the sentiment in this song, as he realizes he still loves Anakin despite what he sees as Anakin's betrayal of what the two of them stand for. Although, see the next fic re: how that works out for him. :-\ )

In This Moment - Legacy

I will lay my hands on you to ease your pain I will sing to you, I will guide you for everything

These last two songs were both originally supposed to be about something else, but as soon as I heard them I was like, "That's a Luke and Vader song." This song, explicitly an invocation of one's ancestors, is where Luke truly sees enough of Anakin to extend real empathy to him, commits to being with his father and to supporting him in his redemption. The two of them have come a long way, and have a long way still to go. (Maybe it should have been immediately after "What I've Done"; I've gone back and forth about that a little.

Taylor Swift - Daylight

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

This song - arguably the whole album it's in - is basically Taylor Swift writing her own redemption arc, so it's no surprise that it works almost perfectly as a song of Anakin's love and gratitude to Luke. I love how it contrasts the "crimson red," tempestuous love that the singer always expected with the "golden," unconditional one that has been offered. I love the ending. It makes me happy.

[katzenkrieg]

Loredump: FFXIV Ships I Sail

I have a massive loredump (see link in my bio) I work on updating occasionally, recording all kinds of details on my WoL, paladin Camille Delane, and his journey to date. Just got done with outlining all of the ships both with and without the WoL that I sail so far. (I’m sure I’ve missed some, of course!)

Spoilers through all of the ShB and 5.x! 

Ships I Sail:

With the WoL:

Cam/Cid (headcanon) - my canon couple. They got together after ARR but before the events of Heavensward and have been a casually out/public couple ever since. After returning from the First, Cam immediately proposed to Cid. Cid’s accepted, but they won’t have the ceremony until they’ve fished a significant part of Cam’s found family back from the First somehow.

Cam/Nero (headcanon) - They’ve either had sex at least once already or will have in the future. There’s just too much sexual tension and rivalry between them when it comes to Cid--and Cid’s genuinely *not* interested in Nero romantically or sexually, so Nero can’t *do* much with his sexual tension/attraction towards Cid except redirect it at Cam. This doesn’t mess up Cam and Cid’s relationship, because Nero is actually much easier to deal with when *someone* is fucking him, and Cid’s fine with accepting Cam and Nero being together now and then as background noise to he and Cam’s relationship.

Cam/Ardbert (headcanon) - During his time in the First, Cam became increasingly lonely and isolated from the other Scions. Ardbert was the only person he could be completely honest with about his fears, doubts, and growing sense that he would be inevitably separated from his humanity, his mortality, and his friends and family. For Ardbert, Cam was the only person he could talk to at all, of course! They eventually got creative and formed a romantic-sexual relationship, despite the fact they couldn’t actually touch. Cam’s been honest about this with Cid, but if Cid’s not bothered by Cam and Nero occasionally getting together, he’s definitely not bothered by Cam having a relationship with a...ghost that also shared a soul with Cam. Cid’s not even going to pretend he can form any judgments on something that metaphysical.

Cam/Feo Ul (canon) - Cam’s decided that whatever forming a compact with a pixie means, it’s...a lot closer to an ownership relationship than the casual way the Exarch suggested Cam form one with Feo Ul would suggest. After being scolded and praised in equal measure by Feo Ul just about every time they’ve been face-to-face, and having them offer to possibly betray their entire world and lead it to inevitable destruction just to keep him safe and alive, Cam has realized he has an ally for life and beyond, even if that ally sees him as something a bit like a beautiful pet or flower--sweet, fleeting, and never knowing what’s best for it. Though the relationship isn’t sexual/romantic, it’s incredibly strong. (And, yes, I would 100% read/write Feo Ul as the Faery King dom/ming the WoL, so the not sexual/romantic part is only in canon, not in “awyeah, plot bunnies” one-shot and AU scenarios.) 

Cam/Unrequited Aymeric (canon) - Aymeric is definitely in a combination of love/hero worship with Cam, but Cam doesn’t reciprocate the feelings. Sorry, Aymeric!

Cam/Unrequited Haurchefant (canon) - Cam would have loved Haurchefant back romantically/sexually if he could--Haurchefant’s love was so obvious, genuine, and no-strings-attached. Cam still sometimes feels guilt that he just didn’t have the same feelings in return. He still valued Haurchefant’s friendship highly and counts his loss as one of the lowest moments of his time as the Warrior of Light.

Cam/Unrequited Crystal Exarch (canon) - Cam’s not aware of this one at all, but the Exarch is so nervous around and concerned about him, it’s obvious to others (such as Emet-Selch and Alisaie).

Cam/Unrequited Zenos (headcanon) - Zenos has no healthy boundaries at all, and his obsession with Cam has a sexual--and, of course, predatory--element. Cam is extremely not interested.

Cam’s Ascian antecedent/Emet-Selch (canon) - They were definitely incredibly close and important to each other in some way. Whether this was sexual or platonic remains to be seen, but there was a romantic aspect to the relationship in either case.

Unrequited Cam/Moenbryda (headcanon) - Cam would gladly have made his interest in Moenbryda clear if her own interest in Urianger wasn’t so obvious. As it was, though he was attracted to her and greatly enjoyed any time they were able to work (and fight) together, he chose not to say anything. He thinks Moenbryda was aware of it at some level, but he believes Urianger never noticed. (Urianger did notice; he’s just never brought it up.) Moenbryda’s death, like Haurchefant’s, is one that still hits Cam hard, especially because he had so little time to get to know her.

Unrequited Cam/Ysayle (headcanon) - As a fellow Echo-bearer, Ysayle had quite a bit in common with Camille--not only in terms of knowing what it felt like to have the Echo, but also in her commitment to her ideals and to her allies. Cam admired her determination, dedication, and idealism, even though they came at a cost to her and to others; Cam’s own motivations tend to be less abstract and more based in his love for his family, friends, and world. He made a few clumsy attempts to show his interest, and Ysayle looked right past them, apparently without recognizing them for what they were. As time wore on, Cam decided it wasn’t fair to her for him to try to distract her from her goals and ideals (though, honestly, he could have done a great deal of good by distracting her at least a bit--perhaps if someone had pulled her closer to the earth in her relationships and goals, she might have chosen to live instead of sacrifice herself!). He settled on continuing to admire her and support her. Her loss is another sharp sore spot in his time as Warrior of Light.

Cam/Urianger (potential, AU) - as of Shadowbringers, I could actually see this happening during their time in the First, but *only* if, for some strange reason, Urianger and Thancred didn’t end up together. It would also definitely happen in the Faery King AU. Urianger clearly is fascinated by the fae and also just as clearly feels like he has to carry the emotional burden of any strange, life-altering transformative choices his friends make, in relation to the fate of the First, so if Cam became fae, Urianger would quickly become fascinated and protective/possessive in an understated way. Cam would benefit from having a mortal who knew *him* as a mortal and also knows a great deal about the fae to help him navigate his new existence and would reciprocate easily.

Cam/Lyse (potential, AU) - in canon/headcanon, they’re extremely close but in a siblings/platonic fashion. If Cid hadn’t been in the picture, however, Lyse and Cam might have become a romantic/sexual couple. He certainly loves her and is more at home with her than with any of the other Scions.

Without the WoL:

Unrequited Alisaie/Tesleen (headcanon) - Alisaie’s grief over Tesleen’s loss, I read as more than the loss of just a friend, comrade, and peer role model/mentor; whether Alisaie ever articulated it to herself or not, she felt an attraction to Tesleen. Tesleen’s loss--the loss of the first potential for a deep love-based same-sex relationship that she represented--will stay with Alisaie forever. If Alisaie comes out and establishes a firm queer identity later, articulating her feelings to herself and to Tesleen’s memory will be a major part of it.

Alisaie/Ryne (potential, headcanon) - Ryne seems quite interested in being around Alisaie and spending time with her during the Scions’ time in Amaurot. It’s quick and subtle, but I could easily see a crush developing between the two, with Ryne initiating the relationship.

Urianger/Thancred (headcanon) - They married (in all but name, at least). I wouldn’t have seen this ship coming prior to Shadowbringers, but boy is it clear they’ve reached an old-married-couple ‘I support his goofinesses and foibles even if I don’t get them’ level of just being around and covering for each other during their time in the First. They haven’t outed themselves publicly to the other Scions yet, but everyone knows anyway.

Y’shtola/Runar (potential, canon) - If Y’shtola doesn’t yet see how much Runar admires and loves her and wants to care for and support her--and show her how wonderful she is, in his opinion--it’s only because she’s deliberately not seeing it--or accepting it. Y’shtola doesn’t have any models in her past for good romantic relationships; Matoya actively pushed away others and distanced herself even in close family relationships, never mind romantic relationships. Y’shtola does the same, even though it’s not necessary for her to do so--and, in fact, might even hurt herself and others. Runar’s going to keep trying, though, and whether she ever reciprocates or not, he won’t waver.

Unrequited Nero/Cid (canon) - Nero envy-lusts after Cid. Cid had everything Nero could ever want--position, attention from the those in power, resources, talent--and then he *threw it away.* And not only that, he threw it away and the Empire didn’t immediately give all the recognition Cid had relinquished to Nero. *And* Cid himself seems oblivious to how much he had and how much Nero wanted what he had. Unacceptable! Clearly the only way to fix this is for Nero to make himself impossible to ignore and convince Cid to tie him to a bed somewhere and finally act like he *notices* how much Nero wants his attention. Cid, however, remains completely oblivious and uninterested. Cid’s one of those people who’s attracted to one person and *only* after that person has taken the initiative in suggesting/establishing a romantic/sexual relationship. That one person is Cam. Sorry, Nero, you weren’t ever going to win this one.

Platonic Yugiri/Hien (canon) - Yugiri views her relationship with Hien as permanent and primary--her service to him is her guiding relationship in life, much as Lucia’s is to Aymeric. It’s also completely platonic and requires no romantic reciprocation from Hien. Which is good, because Hien is...likely not entirely (or at least not consciously) aware of the depth of Yugiri’s dedication to him.

Platonic Thancred/Minfilia (canon) - Thancred’s feelings for Minfilia have been a bit mixed over the course of his life, I think, which is part of why he struggles to express them so much, but I do believe the bedrock of how he feels towards her is familial--as a sibling and a younger sister. He’s probably tried to think of it as or push it towards romance in the past, as that would be easier for him to deal with--and possibly easier for him to devalue and dismiss. Fortunately, Minfilia wasn’t having it, and Thancred has always been forced back to looking at his relationship straight-on -- as that of an older brother who thought of himself as the protector and was eventually no longer needed in that role. Until right up to Minfilia’s final Rejoining with Ryne, Thancred still wasn’t able to reconcile Minfilia’s choosing her own path and not requiring his protection with his love for her as a sister/family and his own conception of himself as her older brother figure; only finally admitting that she had gone beyond him, to places he couldn’t follow, allowed him to accept the truth of their relationship and put it in place in his mind and identity.

Platonic Lucia/Aymeric (canon) - Much as Yugiri is platonically committed to Hien, without any need of romantic reciprocation, Lucia has chosen to commit her life to Aymeric and his ideals. Unlike Hien, Aymeric is very much aware of the depth of Lucia’s commitment and respects and deeply appreciates it.

Unrequited Estinien/Ysayle (headcanon) - Estinien went from anger, resentment, and scorn towards Ysayle to, eventually, being intrigued by and drawn to her and seeing similarities between his own unbending self-isolating ideals and hers. Whether he ever reached true respect for her, completely free of pity or scorn, is an entirely different question. On Ysayle’s part, she noticed any subtleties in Estinien’s feelings and behavior towards her about as much as she noticed Cam’s--which is to say, not at all. Ysayle was very much fighting her own internal battle up until the very moment of her death, and the dating scene and what various adventurer-warrior types around her felt about her was nowhere on her radar.

Estinien/Gaius (potential) - Estinien spends time with no one (except for Aymeric and Ysayle and sometimes Cam…) and suddenly he’s spending almost all of his free time running around with Gaius? Come on, y’all, something’s up. Dish, Estinien.

Estinien/Aymeric (potential) - Whether they’ve been together in the past or will be together in the future...there’s definitely a connection between the two of them. They figure very large in each other’s views of their identities and personal histories/narratives.

Lyse/Hien (potential) - I could see it happening. Cam would support it--Hien and Lyse are both two slightly clueless, goodhearted, very straightforward people dealing with a lot of pressure and expectations placed on them, and they might have a lot of fun together helping each other meet those challenges. They might also get in a lot of trouble--trouble and fun not being mutually exclusive, of course.

Unrequited entire Buduga tribe/Hien (canon) - They clearly want Hien. A lot. Whatever this tribe of Xaela considers the ideal physical type, it seems like Hien must come pretty damned close to it...

[snowrobin-133]

Fairies in Cradle Chpt 1

Hewo!! For once I’m not writing angst yet!! Anyways, this is my entry for this month’s cradlesona event! Halloween! or mythology lol it will be split into chapters unfortunately since I didn’t realize it would be so long lol Hope you all enjoy!! Words: 1848 Characters: Zero x Sona(Echo) Warnings: None yet ;)))

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

Echo sat up in a tree watching as several rows of men marched by. As the fairy guardian of this forest, she had a duty to make sure they did nothing bad to hurt the forest. Both she and the several rows knew of the legends that spoke of her incredible power. Power which could destroy the whole entire army, after all, she was the lead guardian.

As she watched, she took notes of their appearances. The several rows of men all wore white and red uniforms, all of which were decorated with rose designs. At the front of each unit was a leader, all of whom were clearly obvious.

Her eyes fell on the leader at the very back. His hair was raven black and had a golden streak and his eyes were a captivating ocean blue.  On his neck was a tattoo. The tattoo instantly raised red flags, but Echo couldn't put her finger on it. Suddenly, his eyes glanced from the corner of his eye and their gazes met.

She quickly hid further up in the tree hoping that the man would think it was just his imagination. Echo knew that wouldn't happen though. 

His eyes lingered in the spot she was just in before returning to look straight ahead. 

Echo's eyes lingered on him until he was out of view. *Why did he catch my eye?* she wondered to herself. There was a mysterious aura surrounding him, but it drew her in. It was an odd feeling.

Echo wanted to follow them further than the forest border, but her duties as a guardian came first. For the rest of the day, her mind lingered on the raven and gold haired man. 

Echo continued to notice the rising of activity level in her forest. It was odd. Every time there was a person in the forest, she could sense the omen of war and tragedy. Her dreams were starting to be intruded on with nightmares and visions. There hasn't been a war in the past 500 years, and it was frightening.

Pursing her lips as Echo thought, she jolted as she sensed a presence entering the forest. It was familiar. She decided to investigate. Looking around the forest, she finally found the presence. Her eyes widened as she noted it was the same man from before.

Just like with all the same people that had entered the forest from the past few weeks, the icky omen of war clung onto the man's shoulders making her gag. 

He seemed to be looking for something as his eyes darted around. Suddenly, his gaze met hers.

She froze, her breath caught in her throat and unable to move as his eyes captivated hers. 

His mouth opened to speak and she quickly snapped out of her trance before hiding.

"H-hey! Wait, please!" He yelled and ran to the tree, looking up. She was nowhere to be seen. He sighed in frustration and dug his nails into his tattoo. With a grunt, he started to walk away when he heard a shriek.

Turning around, he spotted Echo on the floor, holding her left wing. It seemed that she had fallen from one of the branches and caught her wing on an outstretched branch.

She froze as she realized she had been caught, *Dammit, why did I have to be so clumsy!* she reprimanded herself.

"Are you ok?!" The man hurriedly asked, stepping towards her.

"Don't come near me!" Echo immediately ordered as she stumbled to stand up and held up a hand.

He froze, both in surprise and fear. This man had no magic power, he only had his sword and skills.

Echo tried to lift her wings to keep up her pride but immediately winced. "Ack!" She whimpered and fell to the ground as she tried to heal her wing. 

Her wings were a sign of pride and gave her the ability to fly. They were as delicate and thin as paper. So, her wings were easily torn. What a terror that this has started to become.

Echo needed to stand strong though. She would be useless as a guardian.

She flinched in surprise as the man held out a hand to her. He held a gentle and warm expression on his face.

Hissing, she swatted his hand away. She did not need help from a human.

An ounce of guilt started to weigh on her heart as she saw the man's face twist from surprise to hurt. His expression changed quickly to an apologetic expression, "Ah, I apologize." 

"...It's fine." His sudden apology surprised her, rarely had she encountered a human that decided to be kind to a fairy-like her. Either way, she was still cautious although seemed to relax a bit. 

He stepped towards her more cautiously, acting as if she was a wild animal, "Will you let me help you…?" He asked quietly.

Echo hesitated tried to heal her broken wing. After a few minutes of using healing magic, she noted that no improvement was made. With a sigh, she shook her head, "A wing can only be healed with magic or time. My magic isn't strong enough so I have to wait." She explained quietly. *Why am I being so friendly with a human?* 

"Ah…Can you walk?" He suddenly asked.

"...! …A little--" *Wait. Why am I revealing my weakness?* Echo thought to herself as she cut herself off. "I'll be fine." She immediately remarked and tried to stand up. Her legs were wobbly as she struggled to balance. The throbbing pain in her wing was starting to be too much. She then collapsed but was caught by the man before she hit the ground. 

Echo looked up at him sharply and was immediately taken back by how close his face was to hers. She could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks as she tried to fight to stay calm. "T-thank you…" she murmured. 

"Do you have a home to return to?" 

"...Yes, but I need wings to get there…"

"I see."

"Um, can you let me go now…?" 

He didn't reply and instead picked her up bridal style.

Echo squeaked in surprise, immediately clutching the man's clothing.

"Sorry, but do relax please and tell me where to go." He smiled softly at her.

Echo could feel her heartbeat sped up as her cheeks started to warm even more. But, she had no other way to get back home. 

The man noted her hesitation, "Please trust me."

With a reluctant sigh, she let go of his shirt and pointed in the direction of her home. He started to walk with a nod. The omen of war still clung to his shoulders and Echo couldn't help but gag."

The man seemed to notice, "Is something wrong?" 

"...Not exactly…" 

He tilted his head in confusion.

"...An omen of war clings to your shoulder like a lost puppy…" she whispered.

She felt the man stiffen and glanced up at his expression. His expression was grim.

"...War *is* coming…" he murmured.

It was Echo's turn to stiffen now. War. She hasn't seen it happen since 500 years ago. "I...see."

Silence lingered over them like a dark cloud. Echo found herself leaning against the man's chest as exhaustion started to overwhelm her. This man. She felt comfortable with him for some reason. Was he blessed with a light that attracted fairies…? Who knows… Not even a guardian like herself can tell.

He then broke the silence, "May I ask who you are by the way?" 

"...You don't know the legends…?" She asked quietly. 

"Not many." He admitted with a small chuckle.

"...My name is Echo. I am the guardian of this forest."

He made no move to show he was afraid nor surprise, "I see. I am Zero." He spoke with a small smile.

"...You are a strange human, Zero." His name fell off her tongue as natural as life itself. How strange.

He seemed to stiffen at the word 'human' and hesitated, "I am not human…"

Echo sharply looked at him and they stopped in the middle of a clearing. Zero grimaced as he looked away.

She knew that she had no right to intrude on his past, especially since they just met. Yet, she felt the need to reassure him, "...You have a heart. You have emotions. You have everything a human does. How does that make you non-human?"

Zero opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Instead, he started to walk again.

Echo continued looking down at her hands in her lap, "Humans are all different in personality and appearances. Yet they have many things in common. Your origins may say that you were born non-human, but to me, you are a human." 

He didn't reply, but she could see the layer of surprise under his stoic gaze.

They stayed silent for the rest of the way.

They arrived near where her house was and with the help of his height, he lifted Echo up. She was small in height compared to him which amused him a small bit. He had heard about the legendary fairy guardian of the forest. What he expected though wasn't what he got at all. 

"...Thank you for helping me, Zero." She spoke softly. What a change of pace, she used to hate all humans for their stupidity and arrogance, but this man, he might very well change that view. She wasn't sure why but the feeling was deep in her heart. 

Zero smiled, "You're welcome, Echo." He waved goodbye before starting to walk away. 

Echo waved goodbye as well and watched as he walked off into the distance before being approached by another fairy, Kandis.

"Miss! What happened to your wing?!"

"Ah, it'll heal, don't worry."

"...If you say so, but I must ask, who was that handsome male that just walked away?" She asked out of the blue.

Echo flinched, "Ah...he's…" Echo was at a loss of words. What could she say?

Kandis giggled in amusement, "Well if you don't want to say then that's fine." 

Echo let out a breath of relief that she didn't realize she had been holding.

"Now, onto your wing."

*Oh no…* Echo quickly averted her eyes. She was in for a scolding.

The scolding lasted for an hour and Kandis went off to grab natural medicine to help the healing process of her wing. Echo sat where she was standing and watched the scenery happen before her. Her thoughts were occupied by the man she met, Zero. It was still so odd that a human decided to be kind. Rarely does that happen.

Humans and Fairies of Cradle weren't on good terms, not since the large war between the two major armies. The fairies joined no side and the armies grew angry. The red one specifically, chose to force fairies, by kidnapping them and more. So, the guardian fairies grew angry, lashing out at the army.

Humans were unpredictable. That’s why Fairies no longer trust them. But perhaps, just perhaps, Zero could be one of the few that they can trust.

[autumnhobbit]

this seems like the perfectly rational time to post an absolutely horrible thing i wrote in response to an absolutely horrible concept @lurkinglurkerwholurks introduced to me. take two guesses what it’s about, judging by my usual fare.

Bruce found the warehouse too late and too early.

The entire search was hell, from the realization that Jason was gone, to finding his note, to tracking his location, to realizing the Joker was out and had activity in the area, to finding the truth about Jason’s mother, to frantically flying as fast as his plane could take him to the desert, to being forced to land two hours drive from the village. All the while, he was trying to reach Jason, to warn him. Jason hadn’t answered once. Bruce would have been willing to chalk it up to spite, to distrust, to Jason’s emotional state. Which Bruce hadn’t noticed, hadn’t realized the scope of, hadn’t fixed until it was too late.

But once, as he was halfway there, Jason picked up.

“Jason!?” Bruce couldn’t stifle the desperation in the way his son’s name escaped him. He shouldn’t be doing this...this was Robin’s line, he shouldn’t call him Jason, but he couldn’t, he can’t bring himself to protocol.

No answer. Bruce listened, breathing hard, foot jamming the pedal to the floor.

A rattling echoed fuzzily across the line, and a mad, gleeful cackle followed instantly after it. Bruce’s blood froze in his veins.

“Jason! Jason, talk to me, please—“

A gulp that sounded wet. A scuffle, and then a crack! The line disconnected.

Bruce felt as if there were no air left in the car. His heart hammered against his ribs so hard he wondered if there was any spaces between beats. If there ever would be again. He had Jason. Joker had Jason.

Joker knew he loved Jason. He’d known that for God knows how long, but now he had Jason, and Bruce wasn’t there. He couldn’t protect him.

Bruce wanted the car to go faster. He couldn’t make it go any faster. The temp gauge was already far beyond what it should be. Bruce couldn’t think about it overheating. About it stopping, not working. About Jason, alone with the Joker. Jason, who sounded bad. He sounded like he was drowning. They were in the desert. He highly doubted Joker decided to douse him with water to give him a little cold.

Bruce tore the cowl off. He couldn’t breathe in it. He scraped his gauntleted hand across his face, smeared the uncontrollable wetness from his eyes all over himself.

God. He can’t. He couldn’t do this. Jason sounded like his mom, when he watched her blood froth from her mouth, even while it pooled on the front of her dress. When he’d heard her like that, she hadn’t lasted three minutes. Maybe not even two. She gasped and she gasped and she choked and she stopped.

The car leapt off a dune and crashed down into the dip below it. Bruce’s face was rammed into the steering wheel by the inertia, and blood joined the snot and tears coating his face and the chestplate of his armor.

He had to get there in time. He had to.

He sobbed again in earnest when he saw the warehouse in the distance, huddled among a few abandoned buildings knotted together in the midst of the empty sand. He steered the car directly for it. Up the hill it climbed at a speed it was definitely not designed for, on footing it was definitely not designed for. He didn’t care.

He swerved it when he realized he was coming up too fast, and nearly rolled it over. It screeched to a stop hard, and he didn’t even wait for it to fully stop. He didn’t put it in park, he didn’t even turn it off. He leapt out and hit the sand, and as soon as he was halfway to his feet again, he ran.

He rammed the door with his shoulder, and it gave without a moment’s pause. He ran inside.

It was shockingly darker inside the warehouse than it was out in the heat of the sun, but his eyes were drawn to the small, bloodied shape, anyway. It would be hard not to. Jason was on his side almost in the center of the warehouse. There was a short trail of blood behind him, from a thick, dark pool of the stuff just a few feet back, surrounded by bloody handprints and smudges. He’d tried to get away. Joker had done it there, had beaten him over there, and Jason had tried to crawl away, but had only gotten so far. Even from the distance, he could see Jason’s shoulders hitching, his chest trembling as it moved slightly, oh so slightly. But the noise. The noise was so awful, he nearly threw up instantly. Bile rushed up in his throat and he had to force it down, because he didn’t have time for it. Jason wasn’t moving aside from the twitch, up and down, jerking faintly the whole way, and all that was left of his voice was a small, shrill whistling that sounded drenched with blood. Bruce could see it on his face, trailing down his chin.

All this, in barely the space of a heartbeat Bruce could almost irrationally swear he didn’t have. The next instant, he was on his knees beside Jason, his hands shaking above his son’s small, broken body, and only now did he see something else that made his stomach turn. He hadn’t even noticed the other, larger body sprawled out less than six feet from Jason, the body Jason’s shattered wrist was reaching listlessly out towards, lying on the concrete. Sheila lay there, her eyes open and staring, a bullet hole in between them. Her brain was blown out the back of her skull.

Bruce sucked in air that smelled and tasted like blood and gunpowder. Oh, Jason. Poor baby.

Jason’s eyes were open, too. But they were rolled halfway back in his head, only a small smudge of brown visible. They were half-lidded, like he was half-asleep.

Bruce ducked down to his eye level anyway. “Jason,” he whispered helplessly, his voice shaking. “Jason.”

Jason’s eyes didn’t shutter. He just lay prone and breathed blood. Up and down. In and out.

Bruce’s clumsy hands were in Jason’s hair and ever so lightly cupping his face. His jawbone gave just a bit and Bruce nearly doubled over, barely inches away from him. “Jason,” he sobbed.

Still nothing. Bruce took a breath through his teeth that hissed with tears, and forced himself to rally. He had to get Jason out of here. He had to get him help.

“Jason, I have to...” he choked off, looking again at Jason’s body. How his uniform was torn, his ribs were crushed in on one side, his legs were twisted and broken like toothpicks, his arms were splayed and unmoving. “I have to move you.”

He moved his hands, unwillingly, from Jason’s fragile, beaten skull, to his swollen shoulder and his bruised knees. He felt sick tucking his hands beneath his son, smearing the blood and likely hurting him, but Jason probably was in so much pain he was in shock, anyway, even before the blood in his lungs and nose and mouth, and what choice did he have?

He still had to close his eyes an instant and sit, trying to steel himself. The rattle of air going into Jason and coming out soggy went on.

“It’s going to hurt, baby, I—I’m sorry,” Bruce choked out, and lifted halfway through.

He didn’t even make it a foot off the floor because Jason wailed, head back, shattered ribs heaving, right in his ear and the most agonized, childlike cry he’d ever heard in his life. Bruce had him laid back down again faster than if he were a hot poker he’d accidentally grabbed, and it took him a moment to get his breath back, to make the blackness ease off from the corners of his vision. And it came back quickly, because Jason was crying. The jagged rise and fall of his whole body was now punctuated with broken, half-realized sobs, that still carried more pain than Bruce had ever heard from a human in his life. His baby’s brown eyes were invisible, now. Clenched shut.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Bruce realized he was crying, too, repeating the inadequate phrase over and over like some sort of spastic. He didn’t think Jason could hear him, so lost in his pain, drowning in it. He was shaking finely from head to foot.

Somehow, under it all, Bruce heard beeping. He glanced up.

A red timer stared back at him. It was at a minute and seventeen seconds.

Bruce looked down at Jason. His child’s face still had unspeakable suffering written all over it, even as the life had slowly but surely seeped out of him. His breathing was weaker, his movement more muted, but he was still whimpering very faintly, even as more blood frothed from his lips, darker.

And Bruce knew right then that he couldn’t move him. He’d probably kill him trying.

Jason was likely all but unconscious at this point. He was barely breathing. Bruce didn’t need to check his pulse to know his heart was probably in the midst of failing under the strain. His eyes were closed, his face slack and empty. His cheeks were ashen under all the blood and grime.

But he was still crying in his sleep.

He was his son, his child. He’d made him laugh on the day his parents died. He’d been by his side, whether as Robin or as himself, for the last few years of Bruce’s life, and Bruce had never, ever imagined he could be so happy after his mother and father. He’d had glimpses of it with Dick, and he loved Alfred like a father, but Jason was his child, wholly his, and loved him like that were true. Like it was the only thing he knew to be true.

And he knew that Alfred and Dick were no less loved than Jason, and the thought of them struck him like a knife through the heart, but Jason...Jason was lying beneath him. Dying. God, Jason was dying.

And he couldn’t leave him. He wouldn’t leave him alone. Even if Jason would never know.

Bruce laid down on his side facing Jason, between his mother and him. He took his gloves off and gently laid his hand atop Jason’s outstretched one, only curling his fingers as tight as he dared. The other hand he wrapped around Jason as much as he could, his arm circling his back and his hand cradling his head. He took a deep breath and settled there.

Briefly, he wondered if he should try to get his comm. Call Alfred and tell him goodbye, and he was sorry. Tell him he loved him, and to tell the same to Dick. To thank Jim, and Barbara, and Leslie, and Lucius.

But there wasn’t time. A glance cast over Jason’s body told him the timer was at fifty-seven seconds. He wouldn’t have time to get all that out, and it wouldn’t be fair, to Alfred, or Dick, or any of them. He had made the necessary preparations years ago, when he’d first left to find his way, before Batman was ever born. Alfred would know where the will was, and what needed doing. He’d updated it regularly since. He’d updated it when he’d taken Jason in, to make him one of his heirs and to ensure he’d always be cared for and looked after. Bruce had wanted him to live on, long and healthy, after he was gone.

He choked at the thought, but just held Jason tighter. He tucked his head up under his chin for a brief moment, then ducked to press a hard kiss to his forehead.

“I love you, Jaylad,” he said, to the near-silent air. “I love you, Jason.” He hadn’t said it enough before. He would say it now, and keep saying it. Even if Jason couldn’t hear him.

The timer crawled on. It was going by quickly, but he couldn’t help but feel it was dragging, too. Probably had something to do with the fact that he knew it was coming and was trying to brace for it. It felt like it should be faster, but when he glanced up and saw the thirty-one left on it, his breath left him.

He didn’t look at the timer again. He looked at Jason’s face.

Even marred by bruises and a broken jaw, his son’s face was familiar to him. The jagged jawline, the button nose, the freckles. The delicate eyelashes and hard, expressive brows. All the little pieces that made up Jason. His Jason.

“I love you,” he whispered again.

Jason’s eyes fluttered.

The beeping went on.

Jason’s eyes opened to dull slits. Bruce? he whispered soundlessly, bloody lips moving with nothing coming out.

The bomb went off.

___

Bruce’s eyes opened once after, and he was surprised they did. He regretted it, too, as he was instantly smothered in agonizing pain across every inch of his body. His face and neck were scorched and burned horribly, shrapnel stuck out of the suit every few inches, and the inside of his lungs felt as scorched as his face. Drawing breath smarted enough to bring tears to his eyes. The sky was dark and grey, and lit up from the bottom by flames. Something heavy was pinning his body from the side down, and he couldn’t feel his feet.

Somehow, he realized by shifting minutely, he’d held onto Jason. His son’s body was still entangled with his own, his black head still and silent against Bruce’s chest.

And Bruce didn’t have to check him to know. He was gone.

He’d known it was coming. He’d known it was coming quickly. But it still hurt. It hurt more than anything he’d ever felt. He closed his eyes and pulled Jason closer to him, no longer afraid of hurting him.

The tears cut streaks down his charred cheeks and stung and itched, but he had no capacity or will to stop them. He held Jason and cried softly to himself while the smoke billowed up and drifted back down and hung in a suffocating cloud above him, blocking off the stars.

___

It was thirteen hours before Alfred realized the gravity of the situation.

It was thirty-six before he had managed to find and collect Master Richard and make his way to the desert in another of the planes.

It was thirty-eight before they found the warehouse. They’d been looking for an intact building. Instead they found a pile of ashes and smoldering rubble, and a column of smoke towering a mile high.

Alfred had a feeling they both knew before they landed, but they searched anyway. It took them another solid eight hours to scour the rubble, with the caution of responders practiced in search-and-rescue.

It was Alfred who uncovered them, lifting a piece of roofing only to see the charred face of a boy he would recognize anywhere, in any condition. The same face he had seen for the first time over thirty-four years ago, when Master Thomas and Mrs. Martha had brought him home from the hospital, scrunched and silent in a striped white blanket.

He was curled up on his side in the rubble, like he had been when Alfred had put him to bed the night his mother and father had died.

For a moment he thought to try to shield Master Richard from the sight. But the lad was too fast, and had crossed the mess to be behind him the instant he’d paused. Ah well. Sooner or later they would have found them. Alfred tamped down his own grief, magnified by the sounds of his other grandson’s mourning, and positioned with him to lift the rubble off them fully, uncovering both bodies.

Master Jason was shockingly small in Master Bruce’s arms, even for the lanky form he’d just recently grown into. His body was mutilated beyond belief, and Richard pivoted and threw up upon seeing him, but his face looked almost peaceful against Bruce’s chestplate, cupped gently there with a large hand, stiff in rigor mortis.

Together, Alfred and Richard carefully lifted the bodies onto a gurney to be covered with a sheet. They could not separate Jason from Bruce, and they did not bother to try.

On the flight home there were friends to be called, bad news to be delivered, crying over the coms to be done, arrangements to make.

But when Clark Kent, and Diana Prince, and Donna Troy, and Barry Allen and his family, and Barbara and Jim Gordon came to the Manor’s grounds for the private interments in the family cemetery, only one grave was dug. Bruce and Jason were buried together, side by side.

[tommyparkerr]

Promises Part Four | Peter Parker x Reader

It’s the last one guys! I really hope you enjoyed this series as much as I did and I’m so sorry I couldn’t get this out sooner, but it is what it is and it’s here now! I’ve had so much fun with this and I can’t wait to show you all what else I’ve been working on! But for now, enjoy! And please let me know what you thought!:)

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: Some angst, but ultimately ends in some fluff (Finally, I know)

-Masterlist-

P A R T  F O U R :

You were cut off by a knocking at your window. Your heads snapped to the source, which turned out to be Tony rapping his knuckles against the glass. Peter quickly unrolled the window.

“You two—with me. Quickly. I’ve got something I need to talk with you about before the children get bored of breakfast and start ripping into their presents without us,” he said, encouraging you and Peter to get out of the car within seconds. Peter was on his way to the trunk when Tony stopped him and steered him back toward the compound. “I’ll send Capsicle and his dashing prince out to get your stuff. You just need to focus on doing what you’re told.”

“Mr. Stark-“

“Uh uh,” Tony interrupted, spinning around on his heel to walk backward while he finished talking. “Unless you drop the ‘Mr. Stark’ and you’re not about to argue with me, then I don’t want to hear it.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Tony, what do you need to talk to us about?”

“Overruled.”

“On what grounds?” Peter pushed, sounding exasperated. He gave a quick look to you and slowed his steps a bit when he realized you were falling behind; you would usually be keeping up, but you just didn’t have the energy. You were so tired—tired of holding all your emotions inside and keeping secrets, tired of fighting, tired of pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t.

But you couldn’t say that aloud. At least, not right now. Not here, where Peter’s surrogate father was clearly worked up about whatever he needed to talk to you about.

“On the ‘Because I Said So’ Act established the summer of 2016 when I took you on the trip of a lifetime,” Tony quipped, raising a brow as if daring Peter to try again. Peter simply grumbled and subconsciously shuffled closer to you, causing you to bite your lip and adjust the straps of your purse.

Tony spun back around and continued leading you up without another word. Neither you or Peter bothered to speak; your heart was still racing from your conversation in the car and what you’d been about to tell him, and Peter just looked tired. You couldn’t imagine the toll his ‘misfire’ had been taking on him, especially if it had been going on for as long as he said it had been—especially since he had no idea the reason it was going off in the first place. You were sure the not knowing was the worst part; Peter always had the answers, but now he didn’t and you did, and you were too afraid to reveal them.

“There we are,” Tony spoke up once you’d reached your destination. It took you a moment to realize that the destination was yours and Peter’s bedroom. You gave the billionaire a questioning brow. “It’s quiet and far away from any tantrums that may be thrown. We’re already up to the count of two this morning, so I can only imagine the numbers after our talk.” He rolled his eyes as he opened the door. “Children.”

“Clint and Laura’s?” you asked with a frown, knowing that usually they were good kids. Not to mention old enough not to be throwing tantrums at this point.

Tony’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Close. Clint and Sam. We put them in timeout for good measure.”

A rare smile tugged at your lips and a giggle crawled up your throat only to die out at the last second when you saw Peter’s lack of reaction. You turned away before Tony could see the sudden change in mood and quickly stepped inside the room, followed shortly by Peter.

And then the door clicked shut.

You and Peter whipped around at the sound, frantically looking for Tony. A heavy scooting and then a thump as something propped up against the door. Then, upon realizing what had just happened, Peter marched up and twisted the door handle only to find it was locked.

“Tony, what did you do?” Peter asked, irritation clear in his voice.

“I locked you and your lovely wife in your room, Mr. Parker,” came his reply, slightly muffled.

“No shit,” Peter drawled, twisting the door knob again. “What happened to needing to talk to us?”

“I lied. Sorry pal, but I have full support on this one.”

You shook your head and walked to the corner of the room, running your nervous, shaking fingers through your hair while Peter continued to fight a losing battle. You really didn’t want this conversation to be forced on you, but you knew that without this push you and Peter may have never gotten around to it. That wasn’t to say you didn’t still want to thump on the base of Tony’s skull for doing this.

Peter hit his hip against the door. “What do you mean, full support?!” he exclaimed. “You mean everyone was in on this?!”

“Why do you think you can’t get the door open, Pete? That’s Capsicle’s shield propped up against it. You can try as hard as you want, kid, but you can’t beat Vibranium. Of that, I’m sure.” Peter let out a frustrated growl—one that Tony heard. “Don’t go all alpha on me now, kid. I’m still the adult here. Anyway, Friday has already been instructed not to let you out until you two have worked through some things, because it’s Christmas, damn it, and we’ve had enough of the fighting. And don’t you think you can outsmart the AI I built either. Friday, you on watch duty?”

“Always, boss,” came the feminine voice from above you, making you jump. You still weren’t quite used to the AI, never having been exposed to anything as complex as Tony’s until you met Peter.

“Great. I’ll see you later then, Pete. You too, Y/N. Happy trails! Oh, and Merry Christmas!” Tony cheerily said before walking off, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Complete and utter silence. Your hands were still shaking and your breaths were slightly uneven, but you refused to show it even though you knew Peter probably already sensed it.

“Peter?” you said softly, warily.

“What?” His voice sounded strained with anger and you swallowed hard, not knowing where his anger had come from.

“Peter, you heard Tony,” you said, eyeing his next attempt to break down the door with a wince. “We’re not getting out until Friday tells him we’re good.” He gave a small grunt. “Peter,” you tried again, “we may as well try to work things out-“

“Yeah? Then he shouldn’t have forced this on us. Our relationship is none of his damn business,” he spat, surprising you. You knew he was angry; you just hadn’t expected him to verbalize it.

“Look, can we just pretend we’re back in the car?” you said desperately. “Pick up from there?”

Peter shook his head and slammed his fist against the door again. “Friday, tell Tony to let us out,” he demanded.

“Sorry Peter,” she answered, “but I was instructed not to do that.”

“Override it, then!” he exclaimed, and you could do nothing but watch as he slowly broke. “Code 156378.”

A pause. You flicked your eyes back and forth between your husband and the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Peter,” Friday said, sounding remorseful. “That code is no longer active.”

“Damn it!” Peter shouted, making you flinch. Never, in all your years of knowing Peter, had he acted out like this. He kicked the door with surprising force. “Tony, let us out!”

But no one came.

You sucked in a breath as Peter crumpled to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and breathing harshly. He rested his elbows on his knees and tangled his hands in his hair, successfully blocking off your view of his face.

“Peter?” you questioned, your voice gentle.

“I don’t like being trapped.” He sounded fifteen again, his voice hoarse after screaming for someone—anyone—to help him because he was stuck and there was a building on top of him but no one answered; no one answered because no one was around to hear him. But you heard him perfectly clear now.

You started moving toward him, heart clenching. “Peter, hey-“

“Stop,” he snapped, his voice taut and bitter again. “You’ll only make it worse.”

You knew it wasn’t personal; you knew he probably just needed space right now and that getting close might not be what he needed when he felt trapped, but it hurt. You stopped in your tracks and flinched, feeling the hot familiarity of tears build up in your eyes. Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you turned away and trekked back to the corner you were at before, this time as far away as you could get. Silence overtook the room again, and you spent the next few minutes not only holding back your tears but getting rid of them completely.

You didn’t feel like talking anymore.

The seconds ticked by, you counting the number of cracks in the walls while Peter eventually stood back up and leaned his weight on the door. He didn’t seem too intent on breaking it down anymore, probably coming to the same conclusion you had from the second the door closed: you weren’t getting out on anyone else’s terms but Tony’s.

“He was right,” Peter said from his place by the door, sounding tired. “We do need to talk about this.” He paused, looking down as if in shame. “And I’m...I’m sorry for snapping. It’s just...it’s a lot easier to do when my spidey senses have been going off for...well, you know. For a while. I was already on edge and this”—he gestured to the door—“didn’t make it any better. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, having accepting his apology from the first ‘I’m sorry’ but choosing not to mention it. “I don’t know what else to say, Peter. There’s nothing left to say.”

“Maybe not for you,” Peter said, respectively letting you keep your distance. “But for me...for me there’s everything left to say. I’m not asking you to say anything, just listen. Please.”

You didn’t answer, turning away from him and going to the nearby bookshelf to mindlessly scan the collection of...well, you weren’t sure what the books were. There wasn’t any one genre, but rather a mixture of them all. It fit Tony’s style in a ‘throwing similar kinds of clutter together until the pile had some semblance of organization’ type of way.

Peter took your silence as a go ahead, the first words to spill out of his mouth being, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t make this better, Peter,” you monotonously stated, knowing he wasn’t just talking about snapping anymore, fingering one of the more dusty books on the shelf.

“I know it doesn’t,” he agreed. “I know, but I thought it was a good place to start. So I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. Sorry doesn’t cut it, and I can’t say it enough times for it to even come close, but I am. I’m sorry. And you should know that.”

You swallowed and tipped the book back into place, rubbing your fingers together until the dust dissipated into the air, trying not to let that particular image stir up another, more disturbing one from the depths of your mind. Simple reminders like this were what made you stop yourself from taking back everything you said; it helped you remember why you brought up the subject of Spider-Man’s potential rest in the first place. Why you couldn’t just let it go.

Your hand subconsciously went to your stomach, protecting it even when there was nothing to protect it from. It was odd, it seemed, that for something you’d never touched or seen outside of a blurry black and white photo it was already affecting your life in such a monumental way. And you had a feeling that for as long as that little blob existed, it’d continue to change your entire life until the only thing that remained the same was the blood that ran through your veins.

“Y/N,” Peter said after the silence had been gnawing at the both of you for long enough, “I’ll stop.”

Those words made you freeze in place, your heart practically stopping as it skipped not only one beat, but several. You swallowed, trying to steady your voice as you spoke.

“I never asked that of you, Peter.”

“I know you didn’t,” Peter replied, coming closer. “I also know you never would, which is why I’m telling you that I’ll stop. So you don’t have to ask me.”

“Peter, that’s not-“

“I’ll give it up, Y/N—I’ll give it all up,” he said pleadingly.

“I don’t-“

“I’ll hang the suit up, I’ll put it in some box and stuff it in the back of our closet, I’ll tell Tony I’m done, I’ll tell everyone I’m done-“

“You don’t get it, Peter!” you snapped, flying up to your feet and spinning around to face him. He looked shocked at your outburst and his movement toward you came to a temporary halt. “You seriously don’t get it!”

He blinked. “I don’t understand-“

“Of course you don’t!” you exclaimed. “That’s what I’m saying! You don’t understand! You don’t get it! I never asked you to give up the suit! I never would! I never asked you to stop being an Avenger! I never would! It’s not what I want for you! It’s not what I want from you!”

“Then…” Peter said slowly, cautiously, “...what do you want?”

“What I’ve always wanted!” you said, tears springing to your eyes. Peter flinched, his fingers twitching, aching to hold you. But he couldn’t. Not yet. “What I’ve wanted since high school! What I’ve wanted since you told me you were Spider-Man!”

Your husband frowned at your words, looking confused as he scoured his memories for something that would help him make the connections he needed. You shook your head.

“I want you to be careful,” you quietly said, your voice breaking. His head snapped up and his eyes refocused on you, narrowing in on the single tear that ran down your cheek. “I want you to stay away from as many dangerous missions possible, and, when it’s impossible, to not be so reckless and so self-sacrificing. Because every time you go out and some news channel is broadcasting the fight, all I can see is everything that could go wrong. I see you taking an unexpected hit; I see something dropping on you; I see you miscalculating a web swing and falling too fast. And I can’t take it!” you finished, your voice raising again.

Peter’s face was drawn into one of hurt, guilt, and concern. “Baby-“

“I get worried sick, Peter! And it doesn’t help to look away, because then I wonder if something’s happened and if that knock on my door is someone coming to tell me that my husband’s dead or that dinner is ready!” Peter flinched at that. “You can’t keep telling me that you’ll stop going on as many missions then turn around and volunteer to go on the very next one that comes along!” you continued. “You don’t realize what that does to me! You’re not a teenager anymore, and even if you were—dammit, Peter! Even if you were, I still need you! We-”

You stuttered to a halt, freezing for a moment. You swallowed and pushed away your anger and desperation as you shakily inhaled and placed your hand on your lower abdomen. Peter’s eyes tracked your movement, and a deeper confusion settled between his brows.

“Peter,” you said softly, bringing his attention back up to you. His brown eyes were darting all around your face, looking for answers that only you could confirm. “We need you.”

You don’t know how long it was silent for. It could’ve been seconds, minutes, hours—you didn’t know. Peter’s eyes were blown wide and unblinking, his entire body still. You wondered if he was even breathing.

Slowly you reached for your purse you’d been clutching so tightly to, rummaging through it for only a few moments before fingering what you needed. Pulling it out carefully so as not to disturb the silence or scratch the picture, you stood back up and offered it to your husband whose chest was indeed rising and falling, but in a rather jerky manner.

After a minute of simply staring at the white back, Peter reached out and took it. His hands were shaking as he turned it over, and your heart was racing in nerves and anticipation. You and Peter had always talked about starting a family, and you both wanted one, but you never talked about when or how soon. If he took this badly you didn’t know what you’d do—going to May seemed like the easiest option, but also the most illogical. After all, it was Peter who was her blood; she’d have to take his side. That wasn’t to say she wouldn’t try to knock some sense into him, but there was only so much one woman could do.

You licked your lips, hearing the nearby ticking of a  clock that only worsened your nerves the longer it went on. “Peter?”

As if your voice had snapped him out of his trance, Peter finally looked up at you. You were shocked to see tears flowing down his cheeks.

“You-“ he stuttered, his voice raw and cracking. “You’re—are you—this is-“

You slowly nodded, knowing what he was trying to get out. A resounding thump sounded across the room as Peter dropped to his knees in front of you and shakily removed your hand from your stomach, making you feel a bout of panic. Your unprotected abdomen made you instantly nervous, and your hand instinctively drew back to where it had been resting before. Peter stopped it halfway, lacing his fingers with yours as he took over the spot with his free hand.

His hand was warm and familiar, yet not in the way it usually was. It felt more loving, more protective, more...paternal.

“Hey there, little one,” Peter whispered so softly that if it hadn’t been as quiet as it was you wouldn’t have been able to hear him. “I’m-I’m your daddy. I’m sorry I wasn’t here before, but I am now. You’re never going to get rid of me. I’ll always be here for you. I promise. Mommy and I love you so much, bug. And I’m sorry.” Peter’s shoulders shook with a silent sob as he dropped his hand and hung his head in regret. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, and somehow you knew this time the apology wasn’t meant for your stomach.

You sank to your knees so you were at the same level as Peter and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into your touch before raising his head and looking at you. Both of you were crying, filled with such strong emotion that neither of you could express it with words.

You went in for the hug first, wrapping your arms around his neck and finding your place in the curve of his shoulder. He let out a shaky breath and pulled you closer, his hands tightly clutching the shirt on your back and his head resting on top of yours. You could feel his tears dropping onto your hair but you didn’t care, you didn’t care. Peter had made the promise you’d needed to hear all these years, not to you but to your baby. Your child. And somehow you knew that that meant a lot more than any promise he could’ve made to you.

“I love you,” Peter whispered into the silence.

You decided right then—with you and your husband both crying and embracing on the floor as you wordlessly conveyed your doubts and worries, your concern and guilt, your fears and frustration—that nothing was perfect, but that now, in that very moment, your definition of perfect had changed.

And this…this was perfection.

-

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Let me know if you want to be added! 💕

[rwbyremnants]

Casual reminder this is still an AU, and Mr. Schnee is not the same as he is in the show.

THE END BUT NOT THE END!

So this is the last of the main story! Be prepared - we are about to hop forward a few years for a two-part epilogue, so stay tuned for that! Then you can stay tuned for more exciting things from RWBYRemnants, both in this verse and others!

=Chapter 41

The next couple of days flew by in a flurry of activity for the two honeymooning lovebirds. Sushi, shopping, and hitting random local attractions abounded, and they couldn't have been happier to do each and every one. It was all they had hoped for from their little cross-country vacation.

As Yang predicted, Weiss had a single near-emergency the morning after their new experiment, and after that her muscles were completely normal again. There was some vague teasing about diapers, but a good, firm pinch on Yang's bicep ended that fairly quick. Other than that, they were just happy to be intimate with each other again, and it dispelled a lot of that lingering awkwardness borne of their time spent apart.

By the time they made it to the Schnee building and were in the elevator on the way up, Weiss's contentment that her father and sister were both more accepting now had receded very slightly. She felt anxious all over again, stomach tying itself into knots and heart pounding. Sure, her father had said that he was fine with her dating a trans woman, but that could have been so much lip service; an attempt to soothe her and keep her from going off on him right away. Or even just the sheer relief of her being alive after the tragedy overshadowing any other concerns. How would it be when they actually met face to face again?

"This is it," Weiss whispered when the elevator doors whooshed open, taking Yang's good hand and squeezing it gently. "Moment of truth."

As they started to make their way down the halls, headed toward the once infamous office of Papa Schnee, Yang couldn't help but feel nostalgic about the whole affair. Two months ago, she was helping Weiss with her cases after the tour had finished. And three months prior to that, she and Weiss were at each other's throats, with Yang having to punch a security member to try and earn her trust. How odd it felt to be walking these halls again, hand in hand.

"It's gonna be fine," she reassured the diva as they waited outside the door, bracing herself for when Weiss was to knock. "He's been okay on the phone, and I bet Winter's talked him down, as well. Glad we have her on our side now."

"Agreed. So much worse to have to walk in there and face both of them for the same talk." Then she raised her fist, hesitated, and turned to give Yang a quick little kiss. "You ready?"

Taking a deep breath of her own, she took a moment to compose herself again. Before finally facing the door, and nodding. "Let’s do this thing."

So then she raised her hand, took another breath, and knocked. A few seconds later, there was a click, and the door swung open to show Winter blinking mildly at the two of them.

"O-oh!" Weiss breathed, eyelashes fluttering rapidly. "I, um, didn't think you would already be back here from LA!"

"Things were wrapped up fairly smoothly." The taller woman's smile was tight, but at least it wasn't a frown. "Come in; he's been waiting."

When she stepped back to let Weiss in, she glanced at Yang briefly before walking through. They crossed the space to the man's desk, Weiss's high heels echoing in the space much more sharply than Yang's boots. The blonde felt as if she could throw up. Nonetheless, her hand never left Weiss's as she followed her into his larger area of the office.

Of course, Mr Schnee was at first signing a lot of paperwork, until he looked up – and unlike his usual meetings with either of them, he rose from his chair. Still in his best suit as usual, yet the once stern expression was absent. It was more concern than anything else. Watching as his daughter and her new partner approached the desk, he seemed to swallow nervously.

"…Weiss."

"Father," she replied in kind. Short, but courteous. "How are you?"

"Up to my neck in paperwork, to be frank. Paparazzi and talk shows are constantly contacting me to ferret out your whereabouts, and let’s not even get started with your publicists. However… oh, none of that’s important."

He'd already started to step out from his desk to one side, enough so the pathway between them both was clear, and held his arms out for her to run into. It had been too many years since he had shown such a gesture.

"I’m just so glad to see you."

She did not take off running straight away. Releasing Yang's hand, she took a hesitant step forward, very wary of this new side of him. Was it really alright? So many years had passed with him being emotionally closed-off that now she didn't know how to handle him opening up.

"Go on," Winter encouraged very softly from behind her.

And that was all she needed. Dashing across the space, she flung herself into her father's waiting embrace. Immediately, he embraced her right back, stroking her hair softly as he pulled her against his body. After years of no contact, he was certainly trying to make up for it in a single hug. That much was obvious when the odd tear or two fell down his cheek.

And Yang stood back, smiling to herself as she watched them reunite after so long. Just like with Winter, this was clearly what Weiss needed. To repair her tattered family again.

"I'm sorry, Daddy!" she cried into his chest, clinging tightly. "I wanted to tell you, w-when I could, not for the news to do it!"

"Don't be sorry, I should be sorry," he insisted, stroking her hair yet again. "I should never have seeded my girls with so much ignorance. I'm such an idiot, and a failure as a father! And with Yang, you must have felt so awful…"

Taking a deep breath, she was able to cut off her emotional outburst much more quickly than before. So much had gone on recently, and she was in a much better place, that crying almost seemed like a luxury she had run out of.

"I did, but… none of us knew any better. Not before we had this random crash course known as 'my love life', anyway. We were the same as you, not meaning to be unkind to anyone but never learning any different." She chanced a smile that came very near teasing him. "Guess you're never too old to learn, huh?"

"One or two phone calls helped." He then gazed over to Winter for a moment, sparing her a loving smile. Although they were still conducting themselves with similar professionalism to before, both seemed much happier in each other’s company now. Certainly enough to spare a smile to each other.

"Oh, really?" Weiss scoffed. "So you two are talking about me behind my back, are you? That's real nice."

"Don't get snippy now," Winter warned, even though she was wearing a smile similar to their father's. "We were discussing whether or not we should release a statement to the press. Finally, we decided that we should be leaving that up to you, of course."

"Up to you and your… girlfriend." That tone seemed a bit uncertain. Similar to Winter’s when she first discovered the photos of Yang before transition. He wasn't about to lecture her or call her out on that now, was he?! But when Yang shifted about slightly more nervously, Mr Schnee chuckled to himself. "I'm sorry, it just feels so strange for it to say aloud. I was always worried she'd come home with a… a rapscallion of a boy, but she turns up with a girl, who I hired! What a world."

"O-oh… Um, yeah." Yang coughed, unable to help but nervously shrug her shoulders, still keeping a fair distance. Seemed he didn't know of Yang's gender status, after all; Winter had seen fit to keep it under wraps. But that didn't do anything to stop the jitters. After all, she was still dating the boss's daughter.

"Dad, I… want you to meet her. Really meet her this time, not just a job interview." She finally drew back just enough to reach out for Yang's hand, hoping she would be brave enough to come forward but prepared to approach if she wasn't.

There was a moment's hesitation. This was a lot to take in! But in the end, she took Weiss's hand and stepped forward toward them both, barely managing to look up at Mr Schnee's rather stern expression. After a period of weathering it, she glanced at Weiss, who nodded reassuringly. Clearing her throat, she held out her better hand. "It's nice to… properly meet you, sir."

But Mr Schnee only stared at her hand for a moment, seemingly in disapproval. That was until he grasped her wrist and pulled her in toward him, hugging her just as tightly as he did Weiss. Much to the blonde's surprise, of course! That had been the last thing she expected! Right away he patted her back, a friendly gesture he rarely offered anyone, even his friends.

"For what you did for my daughter that day, the pleasure is all mine."

Obviously, Weiss was beaming like a five-year-old on Christmas morning, even jumping up and down very slightly. She drew her arm out from behind her father and placed her hand atop their clasped hands, almost as if sealing some kind of deal.

"Fantastic! I'm glad you approve of her, because we're getting married."

"WHAT?!" Winter burst out almost immediately, dropping the tablet she had just picked up from Mr Schnee's desk with a loud clatter. That same question was echoed by both Mr Schnee and Yang herself, who both quickly looked over to Weiss with concern. Though for Yang it was more fear than anything, as she suspected Mr Schnee wouldn't be all too thrilled with their apparent decision after only a few months.

"I'm kidding!" Weiss laughed, cackling and slapping her leg. But when they did not join her immediately, her laughter faltered. "You… oh no, did you really think…?"

"Oh, thank goodness! I mean… I don’t disapprove, but let me get to know the girl first!" her father reassured, eventually releasing his ‘daughter-in-law's’ hand to ruffle up her hair instead, even as she protested and quite obviously looked over to Weiss, seeming to mimic as though she was choking.

"Lil… Help?"

"Daddy, stop teasing her; she's already worried about how you'll like her." This was perhaps a bit too honest, but Weiss saw no point in beating around the bush now that most of the formalities were out of the way.

"Then perhaps you shouldn't tease us if you do not wish the two of you to be teased," Winter said, not unkindly but with a slight edge to her voice. Clearly, the news had flustered her – because she had picked up the tablet and was raising it with the screen pointing away from her. "Honestly…"

With a laugh of his own, Mr Schnee finally released Yang from his grasp, giving her a final pat on the shoulder. Seemed the formalities really were out of the way, considering the immense grin on his face, and the content smile as he looked Yang up and down. "Well, like I said; it will take some getting used to, but I think you'll make an honest woman out of my youngest." And then he looked to Weiss with the same grin. "Your mother would be jealous of the long hair, though."

"God, I don't know how she does it, either," Weiss sighed, drooping slightly — both in hair-related depression, and because she was relieved that things were going so well. "I mean, I use the best shampoos and conditioners money can buy, and I still don't have that much volume and resilience! Do you know how hard I can pull on this hair and get no breakage?! It's insane!"

Immediately when hair-pulling was mentioned, Yang's cheeks seemed to light up. As well as her putting her hand by her throat, signalling for Weiss to keep quiet about that; it revealed just a little too much about their private lives! But thankfully for them both, her father didn't seem to notice. Or at least, he pretended he didn't while he finally paced back to his desk with a soft chuckle of his own. But once he sat down, he did look to the papers on his desk, pulling out various forms.

"Unfortunately, family reunion aside, there are one or two business matters I do want to address with you both. Things the media have particularly wondered."

Nodding, Weiss took one of the two seats offered. "Naturally. I mean, I'll go on record as 'gay' if that's what they need, but honestly, I don't care about the label as much as I care about Yang."

"Well, the sexuality issue I've put on hold, because I'd rather you were the one to discuss it than it be through me. I may be better than I was, but I'm still learning, and frankly I don't want to screw up again. A-hah!" Finally, he seemed to find one of the papers he was searching for. Pulling it free from among the pile, he looked to it for a moment as he read the various text, smiling contentedly. "More importantly, they’re really clamoring for a full version of yours and Yang's song. Some are even wondering if you plan on an album of that genre; it would be a departure, for sure, but…"

"I… what?" Glancing down at the page he was reading, Weiss then turned to her girlfriend. "Did you know he was going to do this? I mean, asking you up onstage was just a last-minute idea, I never…"

But Yang was just as much in shock as she was. That was clear when she shook her head in response to the question. Looking to her lover's father with a rather confused gaze, she asked, "Do you mean, me specifically? With her?"

"Who else?" he asked, pulling out another form to read and check over.

"But… why me? I'm a bodyguard, I just play as a hobby. You can get any musician you want to do some acoustic stuff that's way more talented than me."

"Somehow, I don't think another musician would collaborate as well as you two. Nor do I think your audience would be happy if it was anyone else." Satisfied with the checks on the other form, he handed it to Weiss for her to look over. To Yang, it made no sense. Just lots of places for signatures and various paragraphs of text.

But Weiss had seen it too often: a recording contract.

"Daddy…" Her voice closed off as she read over it; this was better than he would have offered just anyone. Still not as lucrative as her own contract, and she couldn't fault him for that, but it was ridiculously generous to give a completely untested new talent this much consideration.

"Well," Winter suddenly put in, "once I went back to watch the video again, after I got past my… misgivings about Xiao Long, I couldn't deny that the music was beautiful. Not overly complex, not droll or simplistic; just a heartfelt melody. We'd be foolish not to at least consider signing her."

"Now as you can see, it's not a major deal. This is going to be very experimental, for everyone involved. But, if you want to give it a shot to see how it goes, the opportunity is there. We can let the world decide how famous your new side project gets."

But the warnings seemed to fall on deaf ears. Yang only continued to stare out blankly, completely speechless by the events. All she could think was that this was some sort of dream, that she'd suddenly wake from. But it was all there in black and white.

"Told you," Weiss said, grinning fiercely at her partner. "I told you that your talent was more than you gave yourself credit for! Oh, this is so exciting!"

When passed an identical contract herself, the blonde's focus went to it instead, where she read the various fine print and looked at what she needed to fill in. It was real, everything was real. Not only was she dating the famous Weiss again, but her father had graciously accepted her into the family. And now she was even given the option to collaborate with her, have her own name become famous with their help. Making music. No longer was it a dream, no longer was she just dating her sister's idol; she could be an idol to people herself.

It seemed she wasn't so different to Ruby after all, as shortly after reading the small print, she seemed to slowly keel to one side, letting out a small groan when she herself fainted.

"YANG!" Weiss gasped as her family members started, her father rising to his feet while watching his daughter rush to catch her. "Damn it, not again! What is with you two?!"

Thankfully Yang's recovery didn't take too long. The instant she woke again, Weiss helped her through the process of the contract. She told her what to write, where to sign, and all of the other information she possibly needed. Only a few other questions had to be dealt with that day, until Mr Schnee let the couple, and Winter, be on their way so he could finish the rest. They had earned that much.

But the day was far from over, as Weiss told her girlfriend, anyway. Yang was completely clueless as to what was going on as she sat in the back of Winter's car with her girlfriend. Under her insistence, the snood was completely over her eyes while the car journeyed along. But that didn't stop the occasional question.

"Is it… Taco Bell? Is that the surprise?"

"Of course not," Weiss sighed in exasperation, given that this was the eighth such inquiry. "And keep that snood on or I'll never forgive you!"

"Girls, girls," Winter said in her best matronly voice. "Settle down back there or I'll turn this car around!"

It took a few seconds for Weiss to mutter, "It's scary how much you sound like her when you do that, God."

"Can I not even peek?" But the instant a finger touched the snood, the immediate "NO!" made Yang draw her hand away, and instead she just continued to giggle as she sat contentedly.

However, something had been on her mind since the encounter: how nice Mr Schnee was about the whole situation. When it was Winter first discovering they were together, the more concerning thing for her was the fact Yang was transgender. And yet, Mr Schnee didn't seem to mind at all…

"Hey, Winter?" Yang asked as she shuffled in her seat again. "When you talked to your dad about me and Weiss… What did you say, exactly? Cause he seemed pretty damn… cool about… what kind of girl I am.”

"Ah." As the car was guided around a corner, the elder sister said, "I didn't disclose your gender status. Though I did contemplate it when I told Weiss and she did not seem to mind, in the end I thought it was best to approach you directly instead of him. And I still believe that's best, though for different reasons now."

The car came to a smooth halt. Winter took a deep breath and followed up, "I know now that my actions, digging into your past… yes, I was only doing my job to keep Weiss safe from would-be predators, but the information I found out about you… I wish I could unlearn it and have you tell me yourself. That would have been more ideal. Since I cannot do that, I thought I could at least afford you that luxury with my father. As… some small apology."

Although the blindfold hid away most of her face, the small smile seemed to say enough. They really had come so far from the loggerheads they were right at the beginning. "I'm pretty grateful for that. Thanks, Winter. I'll tell him eventually, but for now, maybe I should just see if it comes up?"

"Perhaps." Then she cleared her throat. "And, um… do you mind if I speak to Weiss alone for a moment?"

"We can’t!" Weiss snapped. "I have to get out to make sure she doesn't peek!"

Though giggling, Yang nodded, blindly reaching for the car door handle as she flicked it open. "Don't sweat it, I'll be good! Just don't let me walk into moving traffic and I'll be fine."

Once Yang had closed the door, Weiss turned back to Winter and tried to assume a less hostile expression than she would have a mere month ago. "Well?"

"Alright. So… we have established that we wish to be more… sisterly, haven't we?" Winter asked, voice clearly a bit nervous. Scared, even, of what Weiss's answer would be on this topic. “Gossip the way other sisters do. Which, granted, I don’t have a lot of firsthand experiences, but I’ve seen them on TV and in movies.”

"Of course. I'm still holding you to the pyjama party, no matter where we end up having it. And you're painting my toenails."

Coughing slightly, oddly embarrassed at that thought, Winter shook it off and pressed, "Sisters can tell each other anything, right? Well…" More fidgeting, and finally the woman turned in her car seat to gaze straight back at the younger Schnee, who was simply waiting patiently for the point to come along. "Yang… um… how big is she? Are we talking average, or…?"

"Big? She's not that much taller than me, but you can-" When the meaning hit home, Weiss's eyes and mouth formed a perfect trio of wide hoops as she gasped, then literally sat up so fast her head hit the ceiling with a thump! "ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING ME THIS?!"

"I'm sorry! I just- ever since I figured that out during my research, I couldn't get the question out of my mind, I've been dying to know! I mean, I've never met any women with her equipment, so I don't know how it measures up to-"

"Look up some PORN! God, Winter, I am absolutely ashamed of you for asking about my girlfriend's DICK!"

Ducking her head, Winter tried to cough again to hide the true reason her cheeks were filling with rouge. "Honestly, I apologise! Please don't be angry, I didn't think- you don't have to tell me, I just thought I'd ask, I… I didn't mean to offend!"

"Wow," Weiss deadpanned, still shaking her head slightly. "Gee, I don't know how asking your sister how much dick she's getting could be at all offensive! Or weird! Guess I'm just silly like that!"

"No, no, this wasn’t about you or how you interact with it, just… her basic measurement!" When Weiss inhaled, she squeezed her eyes shut and hastily added, "Not that I still think you'll tell me! Just wanted to be clear what my question was!"

"Fine. You've been clear." As she scooted toward the door, she hesitated with her hand on the handle. "IF… you don't think it's too skeevy for us to talk about this, I'll CONSIDER giving you some details at our slumber party. But not a moment before!"

Completely relieved, Winter sighed and mopped her brow. "Very well, I'll… I'll see about buying a few Blu-Rays and some nail polish. Maybe some pyjamas with patterns of fuzzy pink animals."

"Jesus, you want to know that bad, don't you?"

"THAT ISN'T WHY I-" But she stopped when she caught sight of the smirk on Weiss's face and glared. "You're teasing me. I'm sitting here, feeling like an awful person, and you're teasing me!"

But Weiss didn't directly respond. Instead, she merely opened her door and said, "We'll get our things from the trunk. Enjoy your drive back!"

Winter didn't answer.

Having managed to find her way to a safe spot — at least what she thought was a safe spot — Yang continued to hum to herself as she twiddled her thumbs. She did as Weiss asked; no peeking until she told her she could. But from the sound of the car door, that was going to be soon.

Facing the direction which it came, she grinned happily, asking, "Can I peek now? Pretty please?"

"No," Weiss said immediately as she opened the already-popped trunk and withdrew their suitcases. "Just hang onto your bag, and I'll guide you inside. I will let you know when you're allowed to look." Then she slammed the lid and added, "Understand?"

"Alright alright, Mrs Boss-Schnee." As asked, she held her case with the better hand, having to take Weiss's with the casted one as she guided her away. All the while, Yang was completely in the dark about this surprise. Figuratively, and literally. No hints, no clues, nothing. She really had no idea what awaited her once Weiss let her look. It was scary, but also exciting.

"Just a little further," Weiss said as she unlocked the door, guiding Yang past it and deeper inside. Their steps echoed as if they were in a larger, more open indoor space. The hands took the suitcase and set it aside, turned Yang very slightly, then reached up and nipped the snood away. "Okay. You can open your eyes."

When Yang did, what she observed was a living room. However, it was a very unique one; everything was rounded and in earthy tones, a long, curved couch, a low coffee table made of dark wood. Round little ottomans. An executive chair and a couple of electric guitars off to one side… and as she noticed, the yellow-and-black ‘Tobacco Sunburst’ acoustic was propped up next to them, ready to be strummed. Most distinctive was the floor-to-ceiling panoramic window that looked out over Old Hickory Lake; it was a gorgeous view.

A very familiar view. One that should have belonged to…

"Iron Man," Weiss followed up her train of thought with an elated little bounce when she edged into the corner of Yang's field of vision, her hands behind her back and cheeks bunched up from smiling. "I had a crew start work on building this during the tour, and… well, I didn't think to call it off when you went to Chicago. Now I'm glad I didn't, or there would have been no way it'd be completed by now."

Yang didn't think she could be any more speechless than earlier. But she was. She truly was. Slowly pacing downward toward the huge window, she looked out in awe at the sight before her, one that would no doubt be fantastic in a sunset or a sunrise. But just where were they, exactly? As she slowly stepped to look around the rest of the building, she continued to gape at all of the small quirks and features. This was much more personal, much more of a living space then her sterile apartment in her father's building was. It was alive.

"Did you… Did you build an entire house? For us?" she asked, continuing to look around for a moment longer. Though that question seemed silly. Of course a house couldn't be finished in such little time. But a renovation, maybe.

"For you," she corrected, following her around like an eager puppy. "You said you wanted a place like this of your own, modeled after Tony Stark's. I mean, I don't know how many details I got right; I'm not as big a fan as you are. But I trusted the architect I hired to be thorough in his research."

"This is just…" Continuing to gaze around the living room, to the couch and TV area, she could barely string a sentence together. Weiss did this all for her. And had it prepared for a long, long time. When she walked and finally sat herself down on said couch, she looked up toward her, tilting her head. "And I thought the only home you had was your apartment."

"It was." Then she approached and plunked herself down on the same couch. "But… now I have you. And I want us to have a home; one that you like. Not just moving in with me at my dad's building."

"You… I… wait." Leaning forward, she stared toward the ground for a moment longer to try and process everything. So much had happened today; the recording contract, being accepted fully by Weiss's father, and now this. She wanted them to live together, in a house she'd specifically modelled for her. This was hers and Yang's house, in every way. And Weiss made the arrangements for it while they were away, without her even knowing. It was an incredible surprise. One she knew not how to respond to.

But thinking on it further, she still hesitated longer. The last time she said she had to think about it, that she couldn't admit her true feelings in fear of timing, it nearly got them separated forever. She knew she loved Weiss; and knew from that painful separation, she wanted to be with her forever. Moving permanently was a big step, a big and scary step.

"You… actually want to live with me?"

Weiss scooted forward just a bit and turned in her seat to grasp Yang's thigh with both of her hands. "That's all I want. The only thing I want out of my life… all the glamour and stardom, talk shows, money, being successful… what's the point of it all if I can't share it with the only person who makes me truly happy?"

That seemed to settle it. There was no point in hiding her true feelings. Not when she and Weiss clearly wanted the same thing. Perhaps it was too soon, or perhaps it was just another step. Yang didn't care. She was more than willing to take it this time, and discover what the future had in store for them. Though for a moment, she bit her lip and smirked, before she leant in closer to Weiss on the sofa, resting a head on her shoulder as she looked up innocently.

"Don't suppose there's a lab in the basement with a bunch of iron suits is there?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Weiss said with an affected air. "Haven't you met me? I'm THE Weiss. I don't do things halfway." She stood, reaching out a hand for her love. "Though I'm afraid the technology for the suits to actually fly and shoot laser beams isn't on the market yet. Sorry."

"Did you at least get me a fucking rad cosplay of him? Or Rescue?" Though when the latter of the two raised an eyebrow, as she was confused by the question, she laughed nervously. "Right, the comics aren't your thing. It’s totally fine that I’m the bigger geekburger here."

Laughing self-consciously, Weiss said, "I've never read a comic that wasn't in the Sunday newspaper in my entire life. But…" Pulling Yang in close, she leaned up and kissed her cheek softly. "If you have some, maybe I'll like them. But hey, I mean, never hurts to try something new, right? Y-you can, um… find me a good one, and I’ll try it."

“Really?!” Turning her head to press their foreheads against one another, the blonde’s smile grew into a ridiculous grin. "I'll get them when I grab the rest of my stuff, then."

"You really do have comics? That's pretty cool!" When Yang raised an eyebrow, she shrugged, "Well… I mean, it seems nerdy, but then again I've never known anyone who actually had them. And you definitely are not nerdy! Th-that is, in that lame way…" She trailed off, laughing at herself and gazing down at the floor. "I'll stop before I sound even worse."

She couldn't help but giggle to herself. Weiss seemed to miss the point Yang was getting at. "You realise that was a 'Yes, I'll move in with you', right?"

"Well yeah, but I don’t want you to think I care if you’re a nerd or… oh? I- oh." The diva’s face went slack for a moment as she processed, then brightened considerably. "You… really will? You’re sure? You don't hate it, you… and with me being here? Oh, Yang! Come here!"

Then she leapt up and threw her arms around her neck, drawing her down for a flurry of kisses. She wasn't about to stop showing Yang how unbelievably happy she was for a long, long time.

[nevergiveupneverrun]

Bodyguard- Chapter Eleven “In another world” Part Three- Two

Hello, I hope you’re all doing great. Here is chapter eleven of my Story Bodyguard. I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

We didn’t go out long, anyway, it was the impression I had and yet the room was much more sparse than before, some guests have probably already taken off. I take a look at my watch: 2:30 am… The reception had passed at an impressive speed. Guests seeing Amelia spontaneously walk to her to greet her and leave her a few words… I scrutinize the room but no trace of Alex Karev, to believe that my arrival had finally upset him. We stay like that for over an hour, Amelia wishing to personally thank each person despite the fatigue that began to appear on her face. She leaves one more attention to a couple who was about to leave the place… last guests to slip away. - Finally, I thought that some would never leave! Exclaims Meredith who had just joined us. - It’s because the reception was very successful as always thanks to you. - What do you want, I’m trying to do less well, but I can not, Meredith says with a smile. Well, now that all the guests are gone, your service is no longer required, Amelia… I will debrief with the restaurant, and I will finalize everything with them. - Are you sure you don’t want me to stay a bit? - Sure, sweetie… come home, you look tired… - Thank you, Mer… Amelia gives her a kiss, and Meredith surprises me by greeting me in the same way, ending on a wink. - We keep in touch, for the next event, don’t hesitate to think of me. - I will not hesitate, don’t worry. - See you soon, Owen, says Meredith with a smile, before reaching the back of the room. We found ourselves alone with Amelia in this huge room… the silence surrounding us. - We can go, if you want, I sent a text to Jackson… Amelia looks at me then nods, taking a last look at the room. I put a hand on her back, realizing that the dress was not really adapted to a visibly chilly spring night. - Your stole is in the cloakroom? - Uh… actually, I left it in the car… I lead her to the door leading to the exit of the living room and let her pass me. The external coolness makes her react directly when I see her hands sticking to her. I hasten to leave my jacket and put it on her shoulders. - It’s better? She just smiles at me, while finally pulling on the sleeves of the jacket that she tightens a little more against her. 

My hand finds his usual position, in the hollow of her lower back: I actively lead her to the vehicle parked a few steps away from the restaurant entrance. I let her enter the back of the car first before following her to settle in my turn. - Everything went well? Asks Jackson welcoming us. - Yes, no problem… start, you want, the reception was long. Jackson turns the key, understanding the message, by taking a look at Amelia who already has her eyes closed against the seat. I move a little on the seat to bring my head back to the front seats and the road. - Did you not notice any strange movement around the restaurant? I asked Jackson whispering. - No, just the comings and goings of the guests but no activity that seemed to me suspicious. - He may not have chosen this reception to finally manifest himself… We find the big boulevards of Seattle and I take a look towards Amelia, by reflex. I rediscover her eyes distinctly open, hands lost in her hair as she undoes her braid. - Time is not too long for you Jackson? I smiled at her question, she seemed sincerely concerned about how Jackson had lived his evening… - Don’t worry Amelia, Jackson is used to the exercise… he has many times in his life, held positions, silently, hours and hours, and not in cars with leather seats… I finish my sentence with a wink to Jackson through the rearview mirror but it’s not a smile that I see but a serious and worried face. We exchange a long look and I understood without having to talk to each other… as we had learned to do many times in the past. - Amelia, are you attached? - Uh, no… - Attach you, please. - What is… - Amelia, attach you… She conforms while looking at me with frightened eyes. - Stay calm, okay? She nods and I sneak into the passenger seat. I attach myself in turn while glancing towards the rearview mirror. - Since when? - As soon as we came out of the woods… I deviated from the usual path, retracing our steps, and he is still here… and you saw? I scrutinize a little longer the vehicle behind us: a black 4x4, with tinted windows and with an unusual element… no traditional license plate, but a white plate, with the exception of a ferry boat in the center. - At least original, anyway, clever… no way to find the car without license number… - I arrive on the edge of Madison Street… - Okay, go ahead. We arrive at Madison Street, the traffic light turning red in front of us… but Jackson leans on the accelerator, running the traffic light and committing to the empty lane at this time of night. The vehicle behind us performs the same maneuver, always following us closely. - What are you doing? Amelia suddenly asks us. I turn my head a slip of second to her. - We are followed… hang on. The chase continues for several minutes on the boulevards of Seattle, Jackson disregarding the most basic rules of the highway code. The vehicle on our heels, however, manages to maintain the same pace, and Jackson doesn’t sow him as easily hoped. - Ok, I will try something else. Jackson turns suddenly on the right and enters a small street in Seattle to leave the main avenues. I notice the4x4 following us in this new direction, but Jackson forks as soon as possible to the right or left while accelerating and recreating over the meters some distances… The driver behind us seemed talented for the straight lines but much less talented than Jackson to face the chicanes. After a dozen changes in direction, Jackson ends up placing himself in a street with little light, in which he parks quickly, turning off the headlights and all sources of light that can come from the passenger compartment. We wait a few moments in silence, then seeing that no activity is established around us, I speak again. - You lose him, Jackson, it’s good. I turn to Amelia, noticing her clenched hands against the door handle. Jackson restarts the car and heads towards Madison Square in silence. I sneak between the seats to the back seats, to get closer to Amelia. - Hey, everything is fine, Jackson is a good driver and he loses him… Amelia? She looks at her fingers on the handle she was holding. I finally approach my hand to detach one by one her fingers… resting her hands against her thighs. - Everything is fine… - He was going so fast, I really believed… - You have nothing to fear, Jackson is the best I know to handle a car… in the worst situations, he always managed to get by without any scratches on the vehicle… You can be reassured when you are in this car… She nods while playing with the edges of my jacket as if to relax her fingers. I stay by her side at the end of the drive that Jackson pursues in silence and at a reasonable pace, having perceived the disorder of Amelia behind him.

We arrived at the entrance of Amelia’s house after twenty minutes. I Salute Jackson with my hand while helping Amelia to get out of the car; I lead her to the house, a hand firmly resting on her back while sweeping around her eyes. I open the door to her and make her sign to enter while I take a last look behind us. I lock the front door at my first steps in the house. I notice Amelia’s shoes, lying negligently near the stairs, while I can see the light escaping from the kitchen. I slowly enter the room: Amelia is leaning against the bar, a piece of cheesecake with a spoon. - I needed a little something sweet after that… I advance a little more while smiling at her, trying to comfort her with a simple look. - Do you think it was him? - It is very likely indeed… the problem is that nothing will allow us to identify… the car was completely unmarked, with no licensed driver in addition… - Nothing at all? - No, except for one… ferry boat… does that remind you of something? - No, not really, she answers, eyes in the wave after finishing the last bite of her cheesecake. I watch her for a few moments without her being aware of that while she has a vacant look… her hair is detached and unfolds on both sides of her shoulders, almost creating a luminous halo around her… and my jacket that she always has on her, makes her look even smaller, more fragile, more touching than usual… - You should go to rest, it is already more than four o’clock in the morning… She finds my eyes, then moves shyly towards me. - You are right… She puts a careless hand in her hair. - I don’t have to look like much anymore at this time… and after all these emotions. - Not at all… you are gorgeous… My words echo in the room. It takes me several seconds to realize that I didn’t just think about them but that they came out of my mouth too. But the smile that greets me in return hardly makes me regret this remark that I should have kept for myself. - Thank you… she whispers me while putting her fingers against the sleeves of the jacket, ready to leave it. - Keep there to reach your room, you will leave it to me later. - Do you not ride with me? - I will go around to turn everything off and close everything. - Ok… so, good night, Owen… - Good night, Amelia… She smiles to me one last thing then leaves the room, almost without a sound, her bare feet trampling the floor. I check the windows of the kitchen and living room, as well as the closing thing, then I extinguish all the lights of the ground floor, returning to the floor in the darkness. No light escapes from Amelia’s room. I approach her room and very lightly opens the door, reassured by discovering her, already lying down. I join my own bedroom and opening the room an unusual smell welcomes me: a smell of coconut and vanilla that seems to come from my bed. I approach and end up guessing my jacket, lying on the sheets, my eyes have become accustomed to the darkness. I grasp it and bring it directly to my face.

Notes of coconut and vanilla adorn it from now on and spread throughout the room.

As a presence of Amelia with me for the hours to come…

Thank you for reading 💛 

[snarkyowl]

Aberration

Two scientists, two great minds. When one takes ambition a step too far, who knows what monster they may create.

Damien Gentile was a man of science, alongside his sister Celine Gentile. They were the royal scientists serving under the current King and Queen, though were more closely bonded to the princes Marke and William. Damien, in fact, had grown up with the two royals. He had trained from a very young age to get where he was now, and he didn’t regret a bit of it. He’d been busy from day one, and it had paid off.

Celine Gentile was a woman known more for her ability to manipulate situations to her liking, but she was nearly just as well known for her scientific achievements. She, like her brother, had trained hard to get the position she held. Worked differently and pulled strings more than he’d needed to, yes, but worked for it all the same.

The two worked together better than most could be given credit for, a dynamic and terrifying duo. Anything that was thrown their way was a quickly solved problem, and Celine at least had no qualms with bragging about their achievements. Damien derived little to no pleasure from boasting, and much preferred to take a much more modest route. Sometimes he would flaunt it, of course, but other times he was reliably shy upon being complimented.

As things were, they were unstoppable. Two geniuses with the world’s resources at their fingertips, they could do anything. For a long time, that didn’t get to either of them. For a long time, things were perfect.

Then Celine started to act off. She started a pet project that Damien was allowed to have no part in, she cut him out of it completely, in fact. Cut everyone out of it. It was hers and hers alone, and that in and of itself should have been cause enough for concern.

Damien allowed it to happen, though, because he trusted his sister with his heart. If she wanted to investigate and create something on her own, she more than had the right to. Damien had his own pet projects anyways, just because she was a bit more secretive didn’t make it any different.

Then she asked him to meet her down by the mirror core, their biggest project, and for him to come alone. That should have been the first alarm, and in a way it was. Damien, despite his more naive and trusting judgement, brought a gun with him.

Celine is by the core alone, but she’s not waiting for him. She’s busy working on something, murmuring things as she tends to do when she gets busy like this. When Damien clears his throat, though, she stops.

Her head snaps up and she grins maniacally at him, and Damien’s heart sinks. This is not his sister.

“Celine.” He greets her casually anyways, and she giggles deliriously.

“Damien! Oh you came! Good, good that’s good-” She mumbles, lifting up a syringe of something. Expecting assault, he tenses. Instead, she holds it out for him to look.

“This is it!” She exclaims. “My project!”

Damien tries to smile, but it feels forced and the way she looks at him says she knows it is. He swallows nervously, stepping just a bit closer.

“That’s wonderful Celine, but what is it?” Celine nods to herself, setting the syringe down.

“It’s-It’s going to make me- us- powerful, Damien. I’ve got some for you too.” She explains, closing in on Damien’s space and grabbing onto him. She knows he hates this, people in his space and holding him, but he allows it because she’s excited and she tends to forget boundaries when she gets excited.

“What do you mean by that?” Damien asks, and he finds he’s terrified of the answer.

Celine’s eyes are wild and vacant all at once, emotional and emotionless. They conflict with themselves and Damien doesn’t understand what he’s seeing.

“What we- what I’ve developed, Damien, is going to make you and I gods.” Celine whispers, grinning. “Isn’t that amazing?”

“Celine, we both agreed-” “Oh forget that!” Celine snaps, shaking Damien vigorously. “Don’t you know what this means to me? A god! Damien do you know what I could do with that kind of power?” “What happened to retiring to have a family with Marke-” “Forget him, and William to. I don’t need them, I’ve got this now. Power, Damien, is much more important than human things like love.” She smacks his head like that should have been obvious, before turning back to her syringe.

“You’re with me, or against me.” Celine warns, looking at him over her shoulder.

“I can’t let you do this.” Damien says, his voice is thick with his unshed tears but he remains resolute. Celine sighs and nods her head sadly, lifting up a syringe.

“They said you’d say that. Said I should have killed you when I had the chance. I wanted to believe in you, Dami.”

“Celine?” He knows, though, he isn’t talking to his sister anymore. This is something new, something he’s never dealt with. Whatever is in her head making “me” into “we” has taken his sister away from him.

That’s the only truth here.

“I’m sorry, sister.” He says, exactly as she says, “I’m sorry, brother.”

As Damien pulls out his gun and goes for the alarm, Celine injects herself and flings herself towards him. Damien’s fingers brush over the button, too lightly to press it. He collapses back as his sister tosses all of her weight into him.

“Celine please!” He begs, keeping his distance as she prowls towards him like an animal. “Don’t make me do this! I don’t want to kill you, you’re my sister!”

Celine doesn’t respond, instead her eyes turn red and she rushes him. Damien knows, then, that whatever is in her blood is going to make her into something he can’t beat. He knows he can’t kill her, not with a gun at least. He knows what he has to do.

Four floors above the mirror core a team of scientists all jump up from their lunches when an alarm begins to scream shrilly at them. Panic erupts like a volcano as they all rush to their stations.

“How the hell did the thing activate!?” “It says here there are two life forms within the vicinity!” “We have to get them out of there!” “Did they activate it!?” “They couldn’t have! Everyone and their mother knows how unstable that damned thing is!”

As the shouting and confusion grows, one scientist slips away and makes their way down to the core. They’ll get the people out of there, they have to. They won’t let these people die, idiots as they are.

Damien’s head cracks against a control panel, and he cries out as Celine lands on top of him. He desperately throws her off and crawls away, seeing double. He stumbles unsteadily to his feet, blood leaking into his vision as he tries to keep track of where Celine is going next. He feels sick as she screams, her body continuing to change because of whatever the fuck she put into herself.

He turns when he hears a door open, surprise he even heard it with how loud the core is behind him. His stomach drops when a familiar face appears. His old friend, the one he’d gone through school with.

Why are they here?

The scientist pulls to a stop at the scene before them. Celine, who they haven’t known very long, and Damien who they’ve known for years. Why are they here? Why does Celine look like a deranged demon and why is Damien bleeding?

Suddenly Celine is running, faster than she should be able to, and they barely manage to dodge her assault. Damien calls to them, and they run over.

“What’s going on?” They demand, and Damien can only shake his head as he tries to catch his breath.

“Run,” he finally says, “run and tell the others- No!”

The scientist hears a shot, loud and echoing in the room. They feel pain blossoming in their back, then there’s another shot and the pain blooms completely into agony. They scream, or maybe they don’t, and suddenly they’re falling.

The last thing they hear is Damien screaming their name.

Damien watches as his friend disappears into the mirror core, listens to the sound of a shattering mirror split across the room. He doesn’t flinch at the volume, only continues to stand in shocked silence. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.

“What have you done!?” Damien screams, but when he turns Celine is watching him with an empty expression.

He knows. He knows, that his sister is gone. It doesn’t make what he does next any easier.

He grabs onto her, and surprisingly she doesn’t fight. Maybe there’s some of her still left in there, maybe her body is adjusting again. He doesn’t have time to play with what ifs.

“I’m so, so sorry I failed you.” He whispers, and then he steps off the core’s ledge.

Celine falls with him.

[fifiliphaser]

A Taste Of Freedom

[Ao3 Version]

Relationships: Eleven/Mike Wheeler

Characters: Eleven/Jane Hopper, Mike Wheeler

Words: 2113

Summary: Who would have thought that the spring of 1985 would come round so quickly and liven Hawkins up so much, the whole town and its surroundings exploding with colours. It could have not come to be had it not been for the successful outcome of their fight against the Mind Flayer last November. Mike hardly believed almost five months had passed since that fateful night when everything in his life—turned upside down in the autumn of 1983—had pieced together once again. And all it took was for her to be back.

—A short and fluffy one-shot, focusing on that sweet little thing between Mike and El.

Beware! There might be minor spoilers for Season 2!

It’s my first fanfic to Stranger Things and I hope everyone is in character. This one I have a mixed feelings about. I really wanted to post it, because I’m really proud of a second half of it, but a first half… not so much. But it’s here anyway. And I hope you’ll like that shameless fluff with those lovable kids being kids and figuring love out. Enjoy!

Who would have thought that the spring of 1985 would come round so quickly and liven Hawkins up so much, the whole town and its surroundings exploding with colours. It could have not come to be had it not been for the successful outcome of their fight against the Mind Flayer last November. Mike hardly believed almost five months had passed since that fateful night when everything in his life—turned upside down in the autumn of 1983—had pieced together once again. And all it took was for her to be back.

He still caught himself smiling at the memory of seeing her for the first time in nearly a year, of how different she had looked, and yet so strikingly familiar. Of hearing her calling his name with her voice cracking, sheer emotions visible on her face. Of how great and soothing it had felt to have her in his arms once again. Of his tears soaking into her jacket, while he had been trying to swallow his sobs.

Even in his wildest dreams, he hadn’t dared to expect her to come back at that time. He’d been far from losing hope, but the idea of her return actually happening had become more and more surreal with every passing day. And then she had showed up, saving their lives and saving Hawkins all over again. This time, however, she had been still here at the end. Just like she had promised.

A thought that the spring came round in its fullest just for El to admire it crossed Mike’s mind several times, as he couldn’t help himself but realise that it was her first spring she could experience as an actually free person. Although she still couldn’t wander too far away from the cabin or roam Hawkins on her own, Hopper let her meet with her friends from time to time and she was spending a lot of time at the Byers’. In consequence, the party’s meeting point was moved from the Wheeler’s basement to the Byers’ living room.

Of course, Mike would rather have El come over to him, but for now Chief insisted on keeping her presence low-key, and, as much as Mike hated it, he had to agree. Luckily, his willingness to compromise provided him with a chance to spend some time with her on their own once in awhile. Hopper wasn’t a big fan of their “dates”, but he wasn’t naïve either. Well-aware that those kids would always find a way to see each other, he preferred to know about it, so he could keep an eye on them.

Mike remembered the first time they had gotten a chance to spend some time alone after her return. It had been quite a fun little stroll in the woods, as they hadn’t been allowed to walk too far away from the cabin. He had still been processing all of this, trying to wrap his mind around a journey she had just told him about.

“So, your real name is Jane,” he had made sure, getting a nod from her as a response. His eyes had been locked on the trees before them. He had swallowed a lump in his throat, as a wave of guilt had flooded his heart. “Would you like me to call you Jane?,” he’d asked, the name sounding strange to his ears. Before she had had a chance to answer, he had continued: “I guess now that you know your real name, calling you Eleven is… wrong, and I’m sorry for that.” He had winced, his hands fidgeting.

He had felt her gaze on him, and then she had grabbed his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Mike, you did nothing wrong,” she had insisted, smiling affectionately. “And I really like when you call me El,” she had admitted softly, coming to a stop.

He had looked at her, unable to keep a tender smile from lightening up his face. “El it is then,” he had affirmed, his eyes locked on her.

For a moment he could swear a weird energy had started to surround them, pulling them towards each other. However, before any of them could have even slightly moved, they had heard Hopper’s voice calling them in the distance. That had been the end of their first “date”, but it had marked the beginning of something exciting Mike had thought he would never get to experience.

Every time they had hung out afterwards, Mike had tried to come up with a different activity they could engage in. From watching movies (Mike was even more than willing to show El the ones he liked the most, so that she could better understand the references he or their friends sometimes made), through listening to music, reading comics (he couldn’t wait to show her the X-Men, even though not one of them was as amazing as her), playing games, to teaching her how to ride a bike, they were enjoying every moment they spent together.

And today, with the sky almost cloudless and the temperature quite high, he decided to have a little picnic by the lake that was located nearby Chief’s old trailer. It was Hopper who had proposed the spot, and Mike reluctantly agreed, forced to admit that a place actually seemed pretty nice.

He brought a small basket with him, filled with Eggos, candies, fruits, and cookies that his mother had baked a day before, one of the blankets that had created a rooftop of the fort tucked underneath his shoulder. El was already waiting for him by the shore, watching as wind created small creases on the surface of the lake. With light reflecting in them, the view must have mesmerised her, because she didn’t even seem to notice his presence.

Mike himself hardly paid any attention to the lake, though. He was surprised to see El dressed in a long-sleeved blue dress that reached her knees, revealing a pair of light pink socks and white sneakers. He hadn’t seen her wearing a dress in quite a while, and it didn’t fit a bit more punk style she preferred lately. Although she tried many new clothes that she was getting either from Nancy or Will’s mom, she didn’t pick any dresses, at least until now.

Placing the basket carefully on the ground, Mike took a deep breath, trying to stop painful memories from filling his mind. Despite the a different colour of the dress, similarities in her appearance made him recall that fateful night in November of 1983. He shook his head, convincing himself that it was all a distant past now, not worthy of his time.

Mike cleared his throat, unwilling to startle her. “El,” he greeted her happily, as she turned around.

“Mike.” She smiled lightly, and quickly approached him in a few steps.

“I brought some things you might like,” he said light-heartedly, reaching for the blanket.

She helped him to spread it out on the grass, and soon they found themselves laying beside each other, delicate, humid breeze grazing their feet. El insisted that she hadn’t been hungry yet, preferring to just lay down for a while and watch the world around them. It didn’t cease to amaze him how she could find even such an ordinary activity so enjoyable.

“I like the feeling, Mike,” she confined casually after a few minutes of companionable silence, her starry eyes locked on a cloudless blue sky.

“The feeling?,” he echoed, trying to figure out what she meant.

“Freedom,” she breathed lightly, clearly tasting the word on her tongue. And then an incredibly broad smile brightened up her face.

All that Mike felt was a pure joy mixed with a childlike wonder, radiating from the girl lying just inches away from him. He couldn’t help but think about opening up presents on the Christmas Day, and how her expression now had to mirror the one of every child on that magical morning. And somehow that association turned out to be even more fitting, as he had never seen her smile like that. Granted, it happened more often now than ever before, but if genuine, her smiles were frequently shy and restrained, giving him the impression that she still struggled with showing her emotions.

Now, however, was completely different. The smile—a grin, actually—not only reached her eyes, adorning their corners with adorable little wrinkles, but it also seemed not to be repressed at all. A sense of serenity accompanied it, as she let the corners of her mouth lift as much as it was only possible, her eyes almost closed.

Mike had no way of expecting to get to see such a wonderfully delightful showcase of emotions, coming from the very same girl, who, with just her presence, seemed to lighten up his every day. And seeing her so happy—so  carefree —only made his heart flutter.

He couldn’t look away from that wonder of a girl, and soon a murmur escaped his now dry mouth. “I love it when you smile. You look so pretty.” And then he stiffened, mortification filling all of his body, as he watched in horror her head slowly turning in his direction. Had he really said something so stupidly cheesy out loud?

For a moment he hoped she hadn’t heard his words, but his worry seemed to vanish entirely, as tender brown eyes locked with his. “You think?,” she whispered, her smile slowly disappearing, and he had to do something to stop it, a sight too extraordinary to be gone so quickly.

“Yes,” he answered, simply and surely. It took him a second to realise that what he had just said sounded very Eleven-like. It seemed that she had already rubbed off on him more than he was ready to admit.

However, it turned out that just that one word was all she needed to hear. And then that wonderful smile once again appeared on her face.

Mike was quite sure that if he hadn’t already been lying on the ground, he would’ve certainly found himself on it now, swept of his feet. Moments before, he couldn’t see much but a half of that beautiful smile, directed at the sky above them. And now that smile was all for him to marvel at.

He gulped, feeling a weird, slow shift in the air around them. Although he couldn’t put his finger on what was an exact cause of that, he found himself being drawn closer to Elle, even though their hands had already been almost touching. Maybe she was a really strong magnet after all? That would explain a lot.

Unfortunately, his thoughts got all messy and tangled as if on cue with her turning on her side. Mike followed suit, slowly reaching out a hand in her direction. His fingertips brushed her cheek gently, only to trace her lips as her smile grew even more. Mike’s fingers were slightly trembling, yet he didn’t withdraw his hand.

With a heart furiously thumping in his chest, he leaned in closer, so that their foreheads were almost touching. El didn’t stiffen nor flinch away, apparently relaxed and comfortable even with him being so close to her. Instead, she held his gaze, and he could swear that in such a close proximity her eyes looked even more mesmerising. “You are so pretty,” he whispered, his breath surrounding both of their faces with warm. “And incredible. And kind. And amazing,” he quickly listed, feeling his cheeks reddening. “And I’m so happy you’re here.” He mirrored her smile, retracting his hand, only to have it grasped between cool, delicate fingers.

“I am too,” she agreed and then softly admitted: “I am happy that you found me back then.” She cast her eyes down, looking at their intertwined hands. “Thank you,” she managed after a moment, her voice small and more emotional than ever before, but Mike could see a smile playing in the corners of her lips.

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Hey, I couldn’t just leave you there,” he affirmed delicately. “You always help a friend in need.”

“A friend…” She furrowed her eyebrows slightly. “You are my most great friend, Mike.”

“Greatest,” he corrected her warm-heartedly.

“Yes.” She nodded and looked into his eyes once again, as if pleading for him to say something more.

“You’re my most great friend, too, El,” he echoed her choice of words, with a light-hearted smile. “And you will always be.”

That weird energy seemed to be all around them once again, and he could tell that she felt it too. “Promise?” Her voice was barely above the whisper.

“Promise,” he murmured softly, just before their lips met in a gentle kiss.

I feel like El would say some things incorrectly sometimes, since, you know, she’s still learning. And that’s why I came up with that “my most greatest friend” (I just hope it’s not stupid).

[dothewrite]

Hai hai~ I requested this on another blogged and really liked it and wanted to see it in your writing style as well! Could I please get a jealous Tsukki trying to get his fem S/o away from Tendou, who has a major crush on her, but she is completely oblivious and just finds Tendou so funny and friendly until he tries to kiss her? Maybe end it with some fluff? Or even some jealous NSFW with Tsukki? (Tsukki is my ultimate fav, but Tendou is my ultimate trash husband 😭😭 I love them both so much)

I’m so sorry this took like, six years to finish, but I swear it’s here. I did it. Take my firstborn if need be. I chose to end it with fluff instead of nsfw, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! (Alternatively titled: nobody has any concept of boundaries.)

“Hey.”Tsukishima flips close his textbook and turns his head in his palm to stare athis brother. “How do you kiss a girl?”

Akiterualmost chokes to death on a misplaced gulp of air, and slaps at the tableseveral times. Tsukishima waits for him to finish dying and answer.

“Do-do you have a girlfriend?!”

Tsukishimarolls his eyes. “Who doesn’t by now?”

Hisbrother flushes violently and looks a bit mutinous at the comment, but doesn’tcomment. “I- I just can’t believe you’re finally asking me this question. Kei,I can’t get over how you’re growing so fast these days.”

“Ihave always been growing at the same speed. And who are you? Mom?”

“Doyou want me to answer you or not?!”

Tsukishimasighs a world-weary sigh and nods his head. His eyes are bored, half-lidded,but the slight tapping of his index finger against his cheek betrays what wouldotherwise be a perfect disguise of indifference.

Akiterulooks mollified, and clears his throat. “Well. First, of course, you have to besure of their consent. I think you should place your hands somewhere slightlyabove the hips-”

“That’snot what I meant,” Tsukishima interrupts, “I meant, how do you kiss.Your girlfriend. Boyfriend. Whatever.” He pauses, and peers at his brother.“You have had one, haven’t you?”

“Ohmy God.” Akiteru’s face is now several degrees hotter and he feels like hewould rather evaporate into the stratosphere than admit to being lessexperienced than his baby brother. “Yes, yes I’ve had one. I don’t have one atthis very moment, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a reliable source ofinformation!”

“Alright.”Tsukishima grins. “Go on, then.”

“I-Okay. Right. There’s the, uh, lips first. The key is to keep the rightatmosphere- make it palpable, so it doesn’t just flop like some goodnight kissfrom Mr. Teddy. Then- then you, ahem,you know. Go for it. Not too firm or anything, you don’t want to crush theirteeth-”

“Doyou move your tongue quickly, or slowly?”

“Oh my God. U-uh, it’s usually… slowly…”

“Notever in a rush, eh?”

“Howcan I rush something as intimate as a kiss?!”

Tsukishimaeyes his brother, now steaming from the top of his head, and just shakes hishead. “Guess you’ve never been in a closet in the middle of class, then.”

“TsukishimaKei. Don’t let me hear of you skipping class to make out with your girlfriend!Education is important for your future-”

“Okay.Thanks for the info.” Tsukishima spins his head the other direction and tunesout his brother’s confuddled spluttering.

Itwasn’t particularly informative, but there is definitely something that he’smissing that Akiteru’s got. Thoughtfully, he twirls his tongue slowly in hismouth in as many patterns he can think of.

He spiesher haunting a small spot behind the volleyball gym the next day. A bitcurious, he wonders if Coach Ukai would let him off lightly if he was a fewminutes late to practice, and considers jogging up to meet her.

Hiscuriousity, however, is quickly satisfied when a splash of red hair suddenlymakes an unwelcome appearance behind a medium selection of bushes and runs overmerrily to where she’s standing. It’s clearly who she’s waiting for in thebeating sunlight.

A record-breakingwave of irrational yet completely justified irritation hits him like an uppercut.

Hemoves quietly a few steps to the side, behind a metal pillar, and observes. Heresents that he’s too far to catch any of the dialogue.

Of all people, hefumes silently behind flashing glasses, ithas to be that piece-of-shit blocker.

To befair, he’s probably as much as a pain in the ass to Tendou Satori as TendouSatori is to him, but she’s Tsukishima’sgirlfriend, and he really, really hates how warmly she’s smiling at another guy.

It’sall tolerable for now. Except, they’re a polite distance from each other, andthen suddenly, they’re not. Tsukishima’s a quick, intelligent jumper, but hisknees are locked into stone pillars as he watches Tendou lean in, his fingershovering ‘somewhere above her hips’, and press a kiss against her startled lips.

Damn right she’s startled. IfTsukishima had a gun, he’d fire at least four rounds into the imbecile’s head,but he doesn’t and all movement from his neck down has temporarily suspendedservice.

Shetakes a surprised step back, anchoring her heel into the soft ground and pushesTendou off her gently. He tips back into his original space, looking a bitsheepish, and she smiles embarrassedly at him. Tsukishima watches with hawkeyes, still mildly furious at the fact that she’s still capable of smiling, andshe shakes her head whilst saying something to him that makes him shrug.

It’snot a proud shrug, it’s an apologetic, regretful shrug that good humour stillruns through that keeps it light. Tendou grins wolfishly at her, most of thebravado gone, before nodding, and heading back the way he came. He throws up acalm wave over his shoulder, and Tsukishima’s girlfriend smiles fondly.

Tsukishimacannot say he is feeling quite so fond.

Withconsiderable effort, he props his stiff joints back into their positions andmarches over with ease that he definitely doesn’t feel.

She turnswhen she hears his footsteps, and his pace falters when something in her smilesets itself in place. There’s less searing brightness as it had been before,less of an innocent cluelessness that had tickled the edges of her cheeks.Instead it softens and melds into place, fitting her sweet countenance with agentle heat that powers the way she opens herself up to welcome him.

Hissteps grow gradually slower and slower as he nears, and against his will, hisknuckles loosen their grip around his fingers.

“Hello,”she greets him almost shyly. “I thought I’d be too late to catch you before youwent in for practice.”

“Hello,”he echoes. The word falls almost alien from his lips, and his breathing mellows.She takes a step closer into his space and reaches out for his hand with herown; he laces his fingers through hers instinctively, feeling the cool padsunderneath her nails nudge into the back of his hand. “I noticed you, so I hungback.”

Hersmile flickers into an apologetic grimace.

“I’msorry that happened.”

Tsukishimawas mad, he really was. But somehow the emotion is slipping away from his mindlike liquid, and each drop drips onto dry floor, lost and forgotten.

“Iwas pretty pissed off,” he says anyway, without heat. “It’s not the greatestthing to see after school.”

Shenods, slightly ashamed. “I got a message from Tendou, so I thought why not killtwo birds with one stone, and see what he wanted whilst I waited for you tofinish changing.” She clears her throat awkwardly. “It was just amisunderstanding. I let him know I didn’t see him that way, and that I wasn’tavailable.”

“Sohe came to confess,” Tsukishima mutters. “Well, at least we know now that you’repopular when I’m otherwise occupied.”

“It’syour face. It scares them away when you’re around.”

Hescowls at her, and she laughs in return. “We’re still good friends. He was agood sport, and I was flattered.” She looks at him expectantly from underneathher fringe. “I hope you don’t mind that too much.”

Sincethis is his only chance, Tsukishima takes advantage of it and heaves the heaviestsigh he can manage.

“Hewouldn’t exactly be my choice offriend, but yeah. I don’t mind. You’ve the right to be friends with whoever youwant to be.”

“Youdon’t like him because he reminds you too much of yourself.” She grins.

Tsukishimashoots her a look that questions her sanity. “Definitely not. We’re polaropposites, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Butyou’re both so- it’s the same type of intensity, you know? But in differentways. You’re both slightly unhinged.”

“Whateven.” Tsukishima tugs his hand out from her grip and crosses it over hischest. “Are you trying to set me up with him?”

Sheshrugs, but her shoulders are shaking with laughter. “I can always call himback, you know.”

“He’snot kissing me,” Tsukishima warns.

“Itreally wasn’t much, Kei.” Her soothing voice is back, and Tsukishima lets hisarms slowly relax back to his sides. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll giveyou one. That way we’re all kissed by the end of the day.”

Forthe longest time, Tsukishima had completely forgotten the purpose for hisactively seeking her out after their final period. He’d been the one to suggestmeeting up, after all, but the business with Tendou had completely pushedanything rational out of his mind.

Now,it all comes back to him. His slightly random purpose, and his conversation thenight before with Akiteru.

“Alright,”he says. “Let’s bet on it.”

She rollsher eyes ever so slightly, but she’s smiling. “Terms.”

“Whoeverblushes first, loses. You win, I’ll skip practice and I’ll treat you to thewaffle ice-cream set. If I win, you take a picture of us kissing, and you textSatori that I’m the better kisser.”

“Kei,you really are unbelievably petty over the most insignificant things, aren’tyou?”

“Humourme,” he suggests, with a face as blank as the new moon.

“Whata big baby,” she laughs. “You’re on.”

Tsukishimatugs her by the waist, without warning, and they crash into each other chestsfirst. A gasp of air is forced out from her lungs and it leaves her slightlywinded, and that’s when Tsukishima swoops in with his upper hand.

Hestarts it off, as Akiteru advised, with the utmost patience. It’s a slow brushof lips, and he shifts them ever so softly against each other and his tonguewets the space between them with firm, slick brushes. Her face remains cool tothe touch, and he presses closer. They can no longer feel their own lips uponeach other’s, only the diagonal warm that heats the both of them from theirfaces downwards. Tsukishima taps the tip of his tongue briefly along the seamof her mouth, asking for permission, and when she weakens, he drags his handsup to cup the sides of her face as he slides his tongue against hers. Searing,slow strokes, as he had pointlessly practiced last night, in sudden circles andtwisting patterns, he pushes against her own tongue, leading her heartbeat in amerry dance around the lack of space that’s left between them both. He brusheshis fingers lightly against the arch of her cheekbones, before drawing them tothe curve of her ear. She whimpers against him, a delicious sound that he divesinto and presses it back into her mouth with a harsh lick and a sudden suck.

Hecan feel her begin to shiver against his frame, and he lets one of his handsfall against her curvature to rest gently on the small dip behind her back.

Tsukishimapresses her into him one last time, and nips her bottom lip with enoughpressure that it leaves it a bubbling red. He pulls back, and doesn’t botherhiding his satisfied and equally lascivious smirk at her red face, dazed andtrying her best to focus on his eyes again.

Hedips her slightly to the left, and soothes her bruised lips with a soft finale.

“Youblushed,” he finally manages after two attempts to clear his throat from thehoarseness. “I believe I’m still quite bloodless. I win.”

Herfollowing laugh is exasperated, and impossibly fond. She can barely stand up toher full height anymore, but Tsukishima doesn’t mind propping her up againsthis side.

“Ican’t believe you practiced that,” she remarks after catching her breath. “Youcan’t have come up with that on the spot.”

“Iwin,” Tsukishima repeats, slightly ruffled at being caught out. “Let’s take apicture, and you’re sending that message.”

“Toprove to a man I rejected that my boyfriend is a petty guy.” She nods. “Got it.”

Hemakes sure that she’s tapping the message into her chat before he finally hightails it into the gym.

WhenCoach Ukai, and possibly the rest of the team, stare at his definitelydebauched volleyball outfit, they decide that it’s safer for everyone’simagination to not ask at all.

CoachTakeda, however, sums up enough courage to tap him on the shoulder before hegets into position.

“Tsukishima,”he asks in his kindly tone, “I hope nothing was the matter. You’re half an hourlate to practice.”

“I’msorry,” Tsukishima answers, “I caught my girlfriend kissing another guy.” Hecan’t help but grin ever so slightly when Takeda falls back, shocked. “There’snothing to worry about. It turned to be quite entertaining.”

Minutesbefore he falls asleep that night, Tsukishima blinks at the sudden screenshothe receives from her at two in the morning.

It’s apicture of Tendou, sticking out his tongue with a cherry stem tied up in three separateknots.

I’d like to see him defend his title. Hisanswer reads. Three-way challenge. Youin?