#area woman forgets to update fic

[golden-forge]

Another MelJay Micro fic, fairytale/folktale and the word prompt “Cruel.”

Once, Jayce believed in magic.

He believed that their world had magic everywhere, in the air, in the woods, in their very blood. That communities formed a sort of communal magic when they decided to band together with common goals and take care of each other. He supposed, as he laid in the back of a wagon, his head pounding from being knocked out and coming to as the wheels ran over some rock or other, that the community was still taking care of each other.

Except now at the cost of one individual.

“Wait, where -?” He tried getting his thoughts in order so he could speak but his head was still pounding. He made to rub his temples but his hands were bound behind his back. “What?”

The cart stopped. He groaned as the cloth flap was pulled aside. Bright moonlight made him close his eyes. If only his head would stop pounding.

”Let’s go, Talis.”

He’s abruptly pulled out of the cart and to his feet. He started to fall but there’s two pairs of hands pulling him back up and dragging him along. He can hear the sand as they walk. There was only one area near the town that had this much sand. He felt the blood in his face drop down and into the ground.

”What’s happening? What are you doing?”

His voice is rough and full of panic that he can’t quite hide. It makes the men chuckle.

”Why, Talis. Instead of banishment you’ve been chosen.”

Jayce grunts as he’s pushed against a stake. “No, wait, there’s been a mistake -“

”Oh there’s no mistake,” the other man cackles as he ties him to the stake. Jayce tried fighting it but it’s hard with your hands already behind your back. “The crops have been dying, the reservoir dry. It’s very clear that you’ve angered the gods. So to the gods you’ll be sent to directly to rectify it.”

”Human sacrifice is an old, outdated -“

”It’s tradition, Talis. It’s what Piltover has done before. Not that you ever respect tradition.”

“This isn’t right! It’s barbaric! Does Heimerdinger know -”

The man in front of him tsks and wags his finger. “Oh of course the founder of our fine town knows, Talis. You forget, back in his day it’s considered an honor. Better than banishment so your dear mother can still show her face.”

”You can’t be so selfish, Talis.”

The men chuckled.

”Please, don’t do this. My mother needs me. I-I’ll stop my studies all together!”

”We don’t need anything else from you other than this.”

“Come dawn, you’ll save us all, Jayce Talis.”

”Damn both of you!” Jayce struggled against his bonds. “Damn Heimerdinger and the cruelty of this damned town!”

”Did you hear that? He’s still trying to curse us.”

”That won’t do at all.”

Jayce was hit hard into unconsciousness.

***

The next things he was partially aware of, he couldn’t quite understand.

The sun must have been up for he felt the warmth. But then the ropes around his wrists sizzled and he could smell the burnt fibers - then he was lifted up somehow, no hands or arms were there - and he was in the air, looking down at the sands, his head aching doubly from getting hit twice and dizzy -

He blacked out.

There was a woman’s voice talking in a low tone. ”-blood in his hair, Elora.”

”Someone must have hit him, my goddess.”

There were fingers against the side of his face. The first voice was closer now.

”How cruel and then to tie him up at the edge of the desert.” He lightly groaned. “No, you need to rest,” her voice soothed, her fingers going over his eyelids to close them. “Your body needs it. Elora will look after you.”

He fell asleep.

***

I’ll update this once I add it to ao3. I hope to write more in this au.

[thistle-whistle-ffxiv]

The Things We Do For Coin Chapter 1

I made this nifty new blog and thought I might repost the chapters of the fic I'm writing here. You can read the full thing (or at least as much of it as I've written) here. I update it very occasionally.

A surly Au Ra and her companions travel Eorzea to slay monsters and right wrongs. But most importantly, to turn a profit.

A self-indulgent retelling of ARR.

It was an unusually busy day in Vesper Bay. Several merchants had stepped off the ferry from Limsa Lominsa, and a couple had even stopped to peddle their wares. Among them was one of a trio of nearly identical brothers, each of whom cycled through one after the other, never seeming to meet. 

Aside from the merchants, the strange storehouse with a surprisingly discerning secretary had a couple of new visitors as well. Two young elezen, twins by the looks of them. They had gone into the storehouse before being escorted out by a blonde hyur woman and a tall elezen. Neither was an unusual sight around the area, even if their exact purpose down in that old storehouse remained something of a mystery to the general populace. They kept to themselves, and the people of the small settlement had more pressing matters to attend to than whatever they got up to in there. Such as rebuilding their homes after the Calamity.

Just outside of the bustle, young au ri woman sat upon a crate, watching men load many such crates into a rickety looking wagon. It was just her luck, she just had to buy a seat on a carriage with the biggest pack-rat merchant she had ever had the misfortune to see. Did he not realize that some of them were on a deadline? She tapped her fingers on her bare knees anxiously, what few white scales she had glittered in the blinding desert sun.

Among those waiting for the carriage were the twins, along with their guardians. None of them paid her any mind, which suited her just fine. They were talking to the blonde hyur woman. Azami didn't want to eavesdrop, their conversation was none of her business. That didn't stop her from catching some short farewells and a be careful or two. It wasn't any of her business, but she still couldn't help but wonder. What was their relationship? Were they a family, perhaps?

As the blonde woman made to retreat to a nearby building, she paused, her eyes fixing on Azami suddenly. Azami stared back, unflinching. Did this woman have something to say? Or was she not used to seeing raen around? Azami had been told that au ra of any description were rather rare in Eorzea. Although, to be sure, they were rather rare in her own homeland as well. Especially those with her pale blue skin.

The stranger screwed her face up as if she were in pain and clutched at her head. Azami wondered what she should do. Would it be best to go over and help? Or perhaps she should mind her own business. What did she think she would be able to do anyway? She had no medicine and wasn't any sort of healer. Better to stay out of the way.

Whatever ailed the woman passed, and the woman locked eyes with Azami once more. This rude hyur was starting to get on Azami's nerves. Why was she smiling like that? Did she want something?

"What?" Azami mouthed in the woman's general direction. The woman merely shrugged and walked away. Azami scoffed and chose to forget about the strange woman. Whatever it was she wanted, it didn't have anything to do with Azami. Unless, of course, she was paying. She could stare with a creepy smile all she wanted for the right price. 

It was an idea that had merit. People like that could be found all over Hydalen. Perhaps if adventuring fell through, she could look into something like that? 

After she gave adventuring a fair shake.

Azami glanced back over to the cart only to see that very little progress had been made. She took a moment to revise her assessment of the merchant. He was the slowest packrat of a merchant that she had ever seen. There was nothing for it. If she wanted to get on the road sometime before dark, then her only choice would be to go over there and get it done herself.

"Excuse me!" she called as she approached, "Do you need any help with that?"

"Oh, don' you trouble yerself, miss." the merchant smiled at her. Azami fixed him with an unimpressed frown.

"It's more troublesome to watch you fumble about. Get out of the way before you throw your back out."

"Well, help yourself." the merchant stood aside and let her do her work. The crates were heavy, but no heavier than what she had gotten used to back on the farm. She made short work of his remaining merchandise. The merchant helped as well, she supposed. Not that it mattered. What mattered is they could get on the road sometime this turn.

It was a familiar dream. One she had had many times before. 

She floated in a void. Somewhere in the distance was a light, blue and warm and safe. She couldn't be harmed in this place. No one would even think to try.

Hear... Feel... Think...

A mantra that carried her through these dreams. She wasn't sure what it meant. What did they want her to hear? The specifics often seemed to elude her. There wouldn't be much to do until she woke up. She relaxed and resigned herself to another night of being told to hear, feel, and think. 

A dark shape formed. That was new.

The shape took the form of a man cloaked head to toe in a deep black robe. He taller than she was, not that that was saying much. On his face he wore a red mask. As he looked at her, she knew. This man meant to hurt her. Not just her. He meant to hurt everyone and everything he could get his grubby little clawed hands on.

Well, not if she had anything to say about it. 

She found her footing in the void, and noticed for the first time how she was dressed. Or perhaps, her clothes had changed without her noticing? It was hard to put a finger on continuity in a dream.

She wore strange yellow garments. Definitely a foreign design. They were loose enough to allow freedom of movement, reinforced by armored plating around her vital points. A single long feather was fixed to a headband. In her hands she held hora the likes of which she had never seen before. Beautiful and ornate and made out of light.

With these weapons, she knew she could defeat this shadow man. She could save everybody.

"Hey. Hey you!" A sudden voice pulled Azami from her strange dream. The memories of what she had seen began to fade as her eyes adjusted to the desert sun. What had she been dreaming about? There had been... a light?

It didn't matter. Dreams were just that.

"Ya'll right lass? You were moanin' somethin' fierce for a while there." one of the fellow passengers asked her. Azami either hadn't caught his name or had simply forgotten it. It mattered little.

"Did... I fall asleep?" she mumbled, rubbing the tired from her eyes with the heel of her palm. She felt uniquely out of sorts. Was it the heat, or being on dry land after so many months at sea? Or perhaps the bumpy carriage ride was what was making her feel ill? It could be any number of things, she supposed. Nothing for it, but to keep pushing through.

"Feelin' the affects of the aether, I reckon." the man smiled kindly at her, as if she needed his pity, "You'll get used to it though. Don't worry."

She wasn't particularly. Either she would get better or she would get used to it. Whichever came first mattered little to Azami.

Suddenly, the cart came to a stop. Azami glanced over to see men in matching sets of armor approaching the cart. Some sort of uniform? She couldn't imagine a little cart like this catching the attention of local authorities.

"What's this all about?" the driver asked, sounding more annoyed than worried. Perhaps this was simply the way of things in this place? Who could say?

"Inspection! Men, search the carriage." a man who clearly fashioned himself as their leader ordered. 

They wanted to search the merchant's belongings. Was this a routine inspection? Did they camp some poor bastards out in this heat to check over every carriage that rolled by? That seemed like a shitty job.

"I'm just an honest peddler, friend. So... don't be too disappointed when you don't find nothin', eh?"

Azami watched one of the uniformed men barely even attempt to conceal a suspicious looking pouch in his hand before announcing that he had found something. She glanced over to the merchant only to be met with a resigned smile and a shrug.

"Look, sir! Somnus!" the subordinate soldier called.

"Just an honest peddler, eh?" The leader approached the carriage with a smug swagger, "Since when do honest peddlers deal in prohibited herbs? You're in a lot of trouble, old man. Unless you can pay the fine."

Ah. So that was the way of it, was it? 

"Business as usual." the merchant said with another resigned shrug.

Movement caught Azami's eye. Something large and scaled moving out from behind the hills with bow drawn. Their unknown attacker loosed the arrow just as Azami managed to call out. The arrow narrowly missed her new acquaintance, burying itself deep into the floor of the cart.

One of the soldiers shouted for the carriage to go, and the driver wasted no time in complying. The horsebird began to run once more, carrying them away from the battle that was quickly unfolding.

"Do those people normally try to set up honest merchants like that?" Azami asked.

"Price of doin' business." He shrugged it off.

So it seemed that this sort of tyranny could be found all over the globe, and not just in lands controlled by the empire. Fascinating. 

"You steer clear of those Brass Blades, lass. Like common bandits, they are. Only less honest." the peddler laughed. Azami made a note of the warning. They did seem like right bastards. 

"Thank the gods for sending those Beastmen to the rescue, eh?" 

Azami still wasn't clear on the difference between the so-called Beast Tribes and the Spoken races, but at this point she felt foolish for having to ask. It seemed like it was common sense, something she had never been blessed with an abundance of.

"Hey, seein' as how we still have a ways to go, how about keepin' me company? Them young'uns don't much care for conversation."

The peddler gestured towards the other two passengers on the carriage, two snow-haired twins who were either dozing off or doing a very convincing facsimile of it. They hadn't uttered a word the entire time they had been on the carriage. Perhaps they had the right idea. Azami wasn't certain that she wanted to be prattled at by a chatty merchant either. 

"Brendt's the name, and peddlin's me trade." Brendt carried on regardless of Azami's lack of input, "An, judgin' by your unusual garments, I'd wager you're one of them new 'venturers."

Azami looked down at her clothes. They were hardly high fashion, the dress in particular felt a little like wearing an empty burlap sack around. But they had been cheap, and Azami needed to save every coin she could. Was it truly so obvious? Perhaps that was a good thing? That people could tell at a glance that she was for hire?

"I knew it! Goin' wherever the wind blows, seekin' fortune and glory- Now that's what I call livin'." Brendt continued, " So long as you can avoid dyin', I mean. It's no secret that adventurin's risky business- specially these days."

That was true enough, she supposed. Even in her home village she had heard the horror stories. What happened to hapless adventurers who rushed into a battle they were not prepared for. The lucky ones were found, others simply vanished. Corpses laying forgotten in some dusty old tomb, never to be heard from again.

"What was it that first attracted you to it?"

The question caught Azami off guard. What was it? A lot of little things, she supposed. She hadn't been happy at home. Not that she had been unhappy either. Somehow she hadn't felt like she belonged in that place. The dreams. Dreams of a crystal that beckoned her. The need to see what the world outside of her tiny rice farm might look like. But most of all, the most important reason was...

"Money." Azami answered simply. She needed a lot of it and quickly. If she could earn the coin she needed, then it would be worth any risk.

Brendt laughed at her blunt answer, "Aye, there's no shortage of coin to be earned by an enterprising young lass such as yourself. Just remember though: there's more important things than fortune an' glory. Such as breathin'. There's no profit in bein' dead, an' that's a fact."

Azami kept her face straight as the man lectured her. Obviously there was no profit in dying. Who did this man think he was? Her father? She already had one of those.

The man continued to ramble on. Azami listened, or at least half-listened. A merchant like him likely knew all sorts of things about the world. Specifically, the city they were heading to. What was it called again? Ul'dah? What a strange name.

"By the by, is this your first time visiting the city?" Brendt asked, changing the subject suddenly.

Azami nodded. Perhaps he would have some other information that might help her. Specifically the sort that would keep her clear of any more of those Brass Blades. The last thing she needed was some asshole who thought he was better than she was because he had an ugly uniform hassling her. She had dealt with more than her share of that back home.

He went on for a long while, discussing the politics of the region to her. The Sultana ostensibly ruled the area, but was at odds with the Syndicate, a group of rich assholes who interfered with her at every turn. It sounded like a mess. Not one she would ever have to be involved in, fortunately. It wasn't like a small-time adventurer like her was going to be meeting with the Sultana.

"They say war is a gift to peddlers- need breedin' profit- an' though it shames me to say it, I'm inclined to agree."

Azami glanced up from her own thoughts. Had Brendt been talking that entire time? She nodded along as if she had been listening.

"Ah, at long last." Brendt perked up and gestured to a massive walled city that was sitting off in the distance, "Behold! Ul'dah, Jewel of Thanalan, where folk turn sand into gold."

Finally.

The carriage took several more minutes to finally roll to a stop before the city gates, and Azami all but hopped over the edge in a desperate bid to stretch her legs after such a long carriage ride. Perhaps it would have been better to simply walk all the way from that small port town? What had it been called? Viper Bay or somesuch?

The city was too damn big. Why would so many people gather in such a crowded and noisy place just to live? It seemed beyond comprehension, but it could also be a boon. More people meant more potential customers. All she needed to do was to gather up a couple clients, and with any luck word of mouth would carry and she could have herself a solid customer base.

"An' here's where we part ways, lass." The merchant... Bryan? The merchant. Kindly approached to pester her once more. "I'm off to the market to peddle my wares, then it's off to the highroad for me."

He reached into his pocket and drew out a small box. Azami looked at it with a curious frown. What did he expect to do with that? This wasn't some strange western tradition, was it? 

"Here, I want you to have this- by way of thanks for puttin' up with me prattle." the merchant held the box out of her. Out of reflex, Azami quickly waved her hands in front of her.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly!" the words tumbled from her mouth before she could think to stop them. She coughed, suddenly remembering herself. With a dismissive flip of her hair she said, "I didn't get you anything."

The merchant had the audacity to laugh at her.

"Jus take it, lass. Sell it or somethin'. I don't care."

"Thank you." 

"You never did tell me your name."

"Azami."

"Alright, Azami., become the sort of storied personage I can brag about havin' met, an' I'll consider us square."

"Sure." Azami shrugged. She doubted that would ever happen, but if it got this man to stop talking to her and giving her giving her gifts... It would be worth a shot.

She walked through the city gates and looked around. The city was massive. Buildings of shining white stone and murals in the cobblestones beneath her feet. There was a fountain that appeared to be purely decorative. That seemed wasteful, given the scarcity of water in the desert, but perhaps she was wrong. Maybe people could and did drink out of it? She would make a note to observe the fountain further.

"Hello!" Something loud and pink popped into her field of view. Azami blinked and tried to get a closer look. It was a miqo'te girl, one with bright pink hair and a brighter smile. Was Azami making more friends already? Oh good.

"Hello." Azami nodded politely to her.

"I'm new to the city!" the girl bubbled at her, "Do you know the way to the Adventurer's Guild? I've been trying to find my way there, but I got lost and I've been wandering for bells and bells."

"I..." Azami frowned. Now that she thought on it, she didn't know how to get to the Adventurer's Guild either. She had been planning on wandering for a short while, perhaps getting the lay of the land as she explored, before eventually breaking down and asking for directions. 

"Oh! Are you new in this city too?" The girl bounced as she spoke. It made it frustrating to maintain eye contact, "I know! Why don't we become friends? That way us small town girls can look out for each other in the big bad city!"

"I'm... fine... without friends. Thanks."

"What? How can anyone be fine without friends? That sounds so lonely! Unless..."

The girl leaned in until their noses were mere ilms apart. This girl was going to be trouble. Azami could smell it on her.

"You're one of those loner types, aren't you? Always going off on your own and being too cool for the rest of the tribe. Well, let me tell you something! That sort of nonsense isn't going to serve you in the adventuring business!"

"What makes you think I'm even an adventurer?" Azami asked with a frustrated sigh. 

"Your clothes."

Azami looked down at her outfit once more. Was it really that obvious? What was it about the outfit that screamed adventurer to everyone? She didn't understand.

"Oi! Adventurers!" somebody called. Azami and  her new friend turned to spy a man standing against the gate. "Yes, you two. Come here?"

"See?" the girl said before trotting over to the stranger. Azami shrugged and followed her. Maybe this was just how things were in Eorzea? Strangers came up to you to tell you your business? It was probably just a western thing. She wouldn't understand.

"'Tis plain to anyone with eyes that you two don't know your way around here." the man said.

"I'm sure Pink here shouting about how lost she is wasn't at all a tip off." Azami scoffed at the man. 

"Oh. A pain in the arse adventurer, just what Eorzea needs." the man removed the strange tinted glasses from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"I apologize for my friend here." Pink gently shoved Azami back a step so that she could be the one to talk to this strange man, "She's just grumpy 'cause she's lost and sweaty and stuff."

"Kami above, what have I done to incur your ire?" Azami mumbled to herself as the pair continued their conversation without her input.

"If I let you go wonderin' off down the nearest dark alley, you're certain to get mugged or worse, an' I don't want that on my conscience." the man said. 

Assuming there was no coin being offered, Azami wasn't foolish enough to go poking around dark alleys that she wasn't supposed to, but Pink here? Who knew what she might get up to without somebody to guide her. It was a good thing that this kindly stranger had decided to take on the job of guiding her. Which left Azami free to go off and-

A surprisingly strong grip latched onto her arm as she attempted to sneak away.

"That's so generous of you!" Pink beamed at the man, all while her iron grip prevented Azami from escaping. 

"Thing about this city is, you don't get nothin' for free." the man continued, "This is going to be a one-time thing, so listen close. Before you do anythin' else, you'll want to head over to the Quicksand, an' speak with Momodi. She's the master of the Advenurers' Guild, an' can set you on the right path. Just take those steps over yonder an' pass through the double doors. You'll find her inside."

"Thank you, mister!" 

Pink pulled Azami towards the doors in question. Azami huffed, but decided that it would be best to simply go along with it for now. The sooner she "escorted" this miqo'te to where she was headed, the sooner Azami would be free of her. If the brand at her hip was any indication, Pink was a wizard of some description. Which meant they would be heading their separate ways soon enough.

"Alright, alright. I can walk on my own." Azami protested, finally wriggling free from her grasp.

"It's lucky that man decided to help us out!" Pink bubbled at her, seemingly ignoring Azami's irritation with her, "Who knows what might have happened if we had wandered off on our own. I mean, I can take care of myself, obviously, but what about you?"

"I can handle myself." Azami brushed past her. This conversation was more than over. With any luck, they would go their separate ways once they had signed the proper forms and Azami would never have to think of this strange pink menace again. 

"Oh! I guess you're tougher than you look!" Pink continued, heedless of the clear end of the conversation, "Were you some kind of hunter before you got into adventuring?"

"Farmer." Azami answered pushing the door into the adventurer's guild open. 

[eluvisen]

Chapters: 30/36 Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Male Sole Survivor, Female Sole Survivor & Nick Valentine, Deacon & Female Sole Survivor Characters: Female Sole Survivor, Nick Valentine, Deacon (Fallout), Dogmeat (Fallout), Male Sole Survivor, Codsworth (Fallout), Preston Garvey, Curie (Fallout), Desdemona (Fallout), Cait (Fallout), Piper Wright, Robert Joseph MacCready, Paladin Danse (Fallout), John Hancock (Fallout), X6-88 Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Fluff, Friendship, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut, The Railroad, The Minutemen - Freeform, The Institute - Freeform Series: Part 9 of Lantern in the Dark Summary:

The Institute has fallen. But while the Commonwealth celebrates, Kaelyn Prescott can only find it in herself to grieve. It's all over.

Or it's supposed to be.

She isn't the only one in the business of vengeance these days, and Vault 111 has one final secret to be exhumed.

[snickerl]

Of Miracle Births and Other Wonders

tagging @today-in-fic

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

The lady behind the reception desk sends Mulder and the two kids up to the fourth floor of the hospital. They find another reception area with another helpful nurse. She tells them a doctor will be with them very soon to give them an update on Scully's condition. The few minutes they have to wait tears every nerve in Mulder's body, putting his patience to a hard test. Then, to his great relief, a good-looking woman in her late thirties approaches them. "Hello Mr. Scully, my name is Dr. Hanson, I am taking care of your wife," she says, holding her hand out to shake his.

"Uh, nice to meet you, Doctor, but my name is Mulder. These are our children, Emily and William," Mulder says, nudging them both in front of him. "How is Scully? I mean, my wife? How is she?"

"Hello everybody," the doctor says good-naturedly. "Your wife is perfectly fine, Mr. Mulder. She is doing great with her breathing technique. Her cervix is at 5 centimeters, so we still have some way to go. The baby is in good shape, she is in good shape, so we believe we will have a smooth delivery in a couple of hours. Are you all coming to the delivery room?"

William is aghast, his eyes saucer-wide. "What? Ew, no way! Gross!" He shakes his head vehemently. "Never ever!"

Mulder looks at his daughter. "Em?"

Emily thinks for a moment but quickly decides against it. The thought of seeing her mother in pain, even if it was for a good cause, makes her uncomfortable. "I'd rather stay with Will. We don't want him sitting here all by himself," she says.

"I don't need a sitter," William snaps, "I'm not a baby."

"But you definitely behave like one," Emily fires back. "Now shut up and be nice so dad can look after mom and doesn't have to worry about us at each other's throats out here."

"Alright," Doctor Hanson says. "The waiting area is over there. There are magazines and a vending machine. If you need anything, ask the nurse at reception. Follow me, Mr. Scully...I mean Mr. Mulder, sorry...your wife will be happy to see you." She leads the way to the delivery room. Mulder presses a kiss on Emily's hair and waves at William who has already plummeted into a chair. "Okay, kids. See you later then," he says and hurries to follow the doctor.

"Say hello to mom from us," Emily shouts after him, "and good luck!" She looks after her father who disappears through a swinging door marked Deliveries, then trots toward the waiting area to join her brother. She places herself in a chair next to him, looks around, gets up again to leaf through a pile of magazines on one of the tables, finds nothing of interest, goes back to her chair, and lets herself fall onto it with a sigh.

"You could've gone with dad, if you wanted," William tells her without looking up from his phone.

"Nah, I'm good."

Both sit in silence for a while. William is totally absorbed in a game on his smartphone, Emily pulls a history book and some pencils out of her backpack and starts reading, writing notes on the pages in different colors here and there. William shakes his head when he sees her doing that. "That's so old school, sis."

"Well, it's good for me. This way, the information stays longer in my brain than when I read it on a screen. You may call it old school, bro, I call it efficient mnemonics."

"Whatever," he sighs, his eyes back on the screen.

"Hey, what you said in the car, that mom doesn't care about us anymore, what did you mean by that?"

"I meant what I said, whatever the baby needs comes first, and we will play second fiddle. Or maybe even third. But I don't care. If things get unbearable, I will ask to go to boarding school. They can play house with the new baby then and I won't be there to bother anyone with my presence."

"You're being ridiculous, Will. Mom and dad will never let you go to boarding school, and I can't believe it will be anything like you just said."

William only shrugs. The narrative in his head has solidified like concrete, and he can't imagine a worse place to be right now. The best he can do is immerse himself in this online game and forget about what is happening at the other side of the door his father vanished through. After some hours of playing (thank God he brought his charger) and a short nap with his head leaned back against the wall, his stomach grumbles. "Are you also hungry, Em?"

"Well, I could have a snack. How long have we been waiting?"

"We came here at 10:45 am, now it's almost 6," William tells her, looking at the big clock on the wall of the waiting area.

"Wow, seven hours already. Poor mom. I wonder why dad hasn't given us an update."

"Do you think something is going wrong and he doesn't want to tell us?" William says, his voice trembling a bit.

"I don't think so."

"It's not so unlikely at mom's age."

"And how do you know?"

"I read stuff."

"You read stuff. Where?" Emily has problems picturing her brother behind a pregnancy textbook.

"On the internet, where else? If you google 'late motherhood' you get thousands of hits. And they all tell you women should have babies in their twenties and thirties, not their fifties. There is a reason for that. Nature doesn't want you to have a baby when you're old."

"Mom's not old."

"For having babies she is. She should be a grandmother rather than giving birth."

"Well, if she was a grandmother, I would already have a baby," Emily points out pensively, then adds a determined, "no thanks!"

"I just can't believe they let this happen."

"Let what happen?"

"Getting mom pregnant. Why? How?"

"Well, I can tell you how..."

"Ew, don't!" William imitates a gagging sound. "But why?"

"I guess it just happened."

"There are ways to prevent getting pregnant, I hope you are aware of that, unlike our parents apparently. I don't want to be an uncle on top of this any time soon. How could they have been so dumb? I don't get it. For all the times mom lectured us about condoms and safe sex, she didn't follow her own words." He shakes his head showing his disapproval and lack of understanding quite clearly. "I will never have sex, that's for sure."

Emily gives a slight chuckle. At fourteen, her brother most certainly doesn't have any idea of the joy of it. When he gets older and starts fancying girls, he might rethink his attitude, but something else is hitting her the longer their conversation goes. "You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"Well, what else was I to do? It has been the main topic in our house for the longest time. I guess, sometimes they even forgot I was still living there."

"Bullshit."

William is done explaining his thoughts. His sister obviously isn't getting the point either, just like his parents. "Now are we getting something to eat, or what?"

"You hangry?" Emily asks with a smirk and he is glad she has taken the bait and they changed the topic.

"After seven hours of wasting my time in this stuffy waiting room, I think I am allowed to have a bite to eat. Do you have change for the machine?" The boy is inwardly fuming at his father for once again neglecting him by not giving him money for food.

Big sister overtakes Em again, "I am definitely getting us something more nutritious. There has to be a cafeteria somewhere with sandwiches and a drink with less sugar than what I see in that machine." The idea of having to deal with a cranky brother on a sugar-high isn't very appealing. She gets up from the chair, her mind set on improving her brother's mood with a tasty snack. Plus, the hunt for food will give her something to do instead of mulling over what her mother is enduring at this very moment in the delivery room. "Text me, if you hear something," she tells her brother before she leaves him alone.

He tries to distract himself with the game again, but his thoughts keep going back to six months ago when his world turned upside down. The situation was surreal. His parents had prepared one of their usual Sunday family dinners, Emily had come to join, and with the dessert they served them the news of the pregnancy. His sister's piercing shriek of surprised joy hurt his eardrums and he almost choked on the pie he had in his mouth. His mother annoyed him with science book citations about the finer points of late motherhood and male ongoing virility that made him want to cover his ears entirely and yell 'too much information' at her. The worst was his dad though. The puppy eyes with which he was looking at his mom and the silly petting of her still flat stomach caused a severe tickling in William's throat. To this very day, he hadn't gotten past the shock. He shakes his head to make the unpleasant memories disappear.

And then, of course, what had to happen happens: Emily is gone for about fifteen minutes when Mulder appears in the waiting area with an ear-to-ear smile on his face. "Waiting time is over, the baby's here! It's a girl! A healthy, beautiful little girl," he announces, his voice full of pride and also relief. He looks around, surprised to find William alone. "Where is your sister?"

"Getting us a snack. Is mom alright?"

"She is. She did great. I am so amazed by that woman." Mulder's whole face lights up. "She sent me to get you guys. When will Em be back?"

"I don't know. She's been gone for about 20 minutes now, it shouldn't take her much longer. I mean only if she hasn't met a cute guy she needed to get into a conversation with." William rolls his eyes so hard he sees the back of his head, his voice high-pitched on 'cute guy'.

Mulder is still so high on adrenaline that he doesn't chime in, although he too has been annoyed more than once by his daughter's tardiness, and the reason has often enough been a 'cute guy'. "Okay, gotta go back to Scully, I don't want to leave her and the baby alone for too long," he says. He points toward a long gray hallway with several doors on each side. "We're in room 302 over there on the right. As soon as Em gets back, come and join us. Mom is waiting for you guys."

"But dad," William laments in vain, his father is already around the corner. "Great," he mumbles to himself. First, they drag him out here and make him wait endless hours in an uncomfortable chair only to be here when the baby is born, and now that it is born, they don't have a problem with him standing around for God knows how long until his tardy sister is back. Typical. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, types in 'get here asap', his fingers flying over the screen, and slams the send button.

Impatience gets the better of him soon. There is no more sitting in the chair and playing online games for him now, he is pacing the waiting area, glad that nobody else is there to see him in this state. If Emily isn't back soon, he'll explode, he thinks, but it takes another 20 minutes until he sees her leisurely strolling down the hallway. He sighs in relief when she finally stands in front of him, a cardboard tray in one hand filled with two drinks and something to eat he can't quite figure out, and some flowers wrapped in paper in the other. "It's about time!" he lets her know.

"Sorry," Emily says quite relaxed, "I was just standing in line to pay for the food when I got your text. This hospital complex is huge and a bit confusing to be honest. I'm not sure I took the shortest way on my way back. Healthy muffins, iced tea, and something for your sweet tooth," she says with a grin, holding the tray out to William. "What happened?"

"What happened? What do you think happened? The baby's here, of course, and mom wants to see us!"

Emily gives a girly shriek that hurts William's ears once again. "Yay! Great! You could've been a bit more specific in your text rather than simply summoning me back here. I thought you were just craving the food."

"Yeah, well, there was food right in front of our noses." William points to the vending machine, unable to keep his outstretched index finger steady. "But you had to go on a hunting trip for some salad leaves and made me stand around here alone wondering."

"Where are they?"

"In room 302. They are waiting for us. It's this way." William nods in the direction Mulder showed him.

"Okay, let's go then."

Side by side, Emily and William take long strides toward the room they were told. "Boy or girl?" Emily asks on the way.

"Girl."

"Yay again! Ah, that's wonderful. I have a little sister," she chants.

William isn't sharing an ounce of his sister's enthusiasm. If he had been given a choice, he would have passed on this experience as a whole, but now that they are standing in front of room 302, by opening that door what he has tried to deny will become real. If only his mom is alright, he will accept all that comes with it: sleepless nights because of the baby crying, smelly diapers, more Thai takeout, and an annoying younger sister on top of an annoying older one. If only his mom is alright. Emily knocks and he hears his mother's voice say "Come in!" It sounds weak, he thinks, and his heartbeat accelerates. When he follows his sister into the room, he braces himself for the worst.

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Matters of Importance Part 4: The Padawan Years

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hello! Thank you for your patience as I wrote this part, I’m working on updates as I post this, not sure when they’ll come, but thank you for all the love on this fic!

Warnings: Torture (I have separators in for you to skip the torture if that is something you don’t want to read), Violence, Blood/Gore, Angst

Summary: (Ages 16-20ish) A glimpse into the years of missions as Padawans and what travels through the connection. Years of separation and training makes you cling to the connection, wondering if Obi-Wan is as invested in it. It’s not until your mission goes wrong that you both realize the importance of the connection.

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,861

You were sixteen when you felt a shift in your connection with Obi-Wan. After a few years of training under Master Yoda, he was put under the tutelage of Master Jinn. Master Windu and Jinn promoted a fostering of the Force connection between the both of you, years of meditating and communicating through the Force had made it so you could sense the other, even across Coruscant. There was never a need to test the connection further, at least, that was until the missions began. Obi-Wan and Master Qui-Gon had been sent on a mission to Mandalore. Your knowledge of their mission was limited, but you knew that there was unrest in the planet, that the duchess was in need of protection. The danger must have been significant if it required Jedi.

Within a few weeks of his time there, you felt him withdrawing from you, not a complete break, but distancing from you. The past few months there had been a consistent flow between the two of you, your Force signatures were constantly entwined. You could sense his unease, his concern, then you sensed his concern focus. On what, or who you weren’t sure, but you could feel his mind shift to one thing. It had been a matter that intrigued Master Yoda, even planets away, you were able to connect like you were next to each other. But slowly you felt Obi’s Force signature ebbing away from you. You tried to shake off your confusion and sat down, crossing your legs to begin meditating. Inhale, exhale, inhale….. You feel the Force draw you into its arms, wrapping you in peace.

You reached out to Obi-Wan, only to find a wall blocking you from him. He had never put up walls against you, you both had sworn that you would never let anything come between you, but here it was. A wall. Blocking you out. Hurt and fear rushed through your veins. You pushed them away, control. Even though a part of you wanted to push against the wall, maybe break through it.Control, you snarled to yourself. Reaching inward to find peace and clarity. Search your feelings. You are hurt because he cut himself off from you. You analyzed. You are scared, he could be hurt. You would feel something if he was injured. He couldn’t keep that from you. Someone could be in his mind, searching it. He might be protecting you.

While you analyzed your feelings a turmoil began to boil in the pit of your stomach. He could be intentionally cutting you off. He probably is. You don’t matter. You are insignificant. You began the inner battle, feeling Master Windu’s Force energy reaching out to you, filled with clarity and calmness. You anchored yourself to his energy and began to battle your inner self.

Your insecurities, your doubts, bringing each to the surface, only to wrap them in clarity, in rational thought. Obi-Wan may have had his reasons for blocking you, but they would not rule your existence. His actions were not in your control, but your reactions were. Fear and anger would lead down a path of no redemption, to the dark side.

When you opened your eyes, Master Windu sat across from you. His eyes opened as yours did. “Nice work, Padawan.” He said, “Now, to sparring.” He rose from his seated position, you rising as he did.

You walked a step behind your Master to the sparring ring. It was empty today, odd. You heard Master Windu ignite his saber, the amethyst light glowing in the arena. You ignited yours, a pale yellow light falling on your face. Windu made the first move, a direct attack, you brought your saber up to counter his, dancing out of his reach and beginning a quick burst of counterattacks. He parried each blow, pushing forward, but you held your own against him. Even with your sabers set to the lowest settings, you could feel the heat when they collided. He gave a shove and you fell onto your back, you rolled over your shoulder and leapt to your feet.

“Good, very good.” He murmured, his saber retracting. “What is it that troubles you?”

You retracted your saber and looked at him. “I felt Obi-Wan block me from the connection.” The connection was not something that Master Windu claimed to be an expert in, but he never ignored its importance to you.

Windu hummed for a moment. “Mandalore is in a fluctuating state. The mission he is on, is not an easy one.”

You nodded, glancing down at the ground. “What if the connection is lost?”

Windu rubbed at his chin for a moment. “We never had you attempt to keep the connection across the galaxy, perhaps there is a limit when it comes to distance.” You could feel his eyes staring at you. “There is no reason to lose yourself to worry, you can only control how you react.”

More weeks passed before you felt a fluttering across the Force during meditation. Obi? You asked tentatively, reaching out, keeping your reach light as a feather, afraid that if you reached out too aggressively he would disappear.You could feel him retreating from you. Promise, your mind grumbled insistently, Never shut us out.

Then his voice appeared, danger, running, alive. He started to fade from your mind, the connection breaking.

Air rushed from your lips in relief. He was alive, that was a comfort, the only comfort you had from the news. Time continued to pass, every so often you would receive a snippet of emotion or a simple, alive. You continued to train with Master Windu, sparring daily. During your sessions with him you had noticed other masters in the doorways, around the area when your sabers were ignited. You decided to ignore them and focus on the battle at hand. It was no secret that you had become skilled with the blade, but it was hardly a reason for the Masters to appear.

Master Yoda appeared one day during sparring practice. He watched from the doorway, leaning on his cane. You became distracted for a moment and Master Windu’s blade singed your hair. You shook your head and focused on sparring, the battle ended with Master Windu pinned to the ground, your blade at his chin. You heard a shuffling of feet and glanced at the door, Master Yoda was nowhere to be found.

The year came to a close and Mandalore was set right. When the news that their mission had been completed you were excited, Obi would be coming home. You reached out to him in excitement and felt a cloud surrounding him.

Obi? You reached out tentatively through the Force. You could feel him reaching for you.

I’m here. His voice whispered in your mind. It’s alright.

You sensed the lie, anyone would have been able to. Liar.

A chuckle traveled through the galaxy to you. I understand why the Jedi forbid attachment.

You could feel the tinge of sadness that laced his words. The frustration, the hurt. I’m sorry. His Force signature leaned into yours, and they mingled together for a moment. You wanted to press him for more information on what had happened, your mind was racing trying to understand.

We’re entitled to our secrets, even from each other. His voice murmured settling your racing mind.

The years continued, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were sent on missions to maintain peace throughout the galaxy. You remained with Master Windu on Coruscant, taking missions when the Council mandated it. Master Windu’s dedication to the preservation of the Jedi arts fueled your late teens and early twenties. As master and apprentice you had brought several younglings to the Order, delivered safely to begin their training. You had found joy in the missions, the smiles of the younglings when they joined their clans. Every return to the Temple you were greeted by eager little ones to meet the newest member. You had found peace in the missions.

That all changed when you landed on Oosalon. You were aware that Padawans had been missing, and their masters along with them. But you hadn’t realized what the warlord Guattako was doing, the army of children he was amassing. Windu had explained the missing Padawans, but no one had been aware of just what Guattako was planning.

Landing on Oosalon you noted the barren terrain, high cliffs and mountains littered the landscape, not a single plant grew. You tried to tap into the planet’s Force, but it was feral, filled with fear and anger.

“Stay alert, we don’t know what lies ahead.” Windu warned as he lead you up a steep incline.

You continued climbing, looking for signs of the lost children and Masters. You froze when a rock fell from the path above you. You glanced up and a flurry of red landed on you, knocking you to the ground. You grasped for any hold, but were pinned on your back. Master Windu went to ignite his saber and a blade appeared at his throat.

“I wouldn’t try it, Jedi.” A green skinned Kyuzo barked, knife biting into Windu’s throat.

The girl dragged you to a standing position, your arms pinned behind your back. She unclipped your saber from your belt and shoved it into her pack. “Don’t forget to bag his.”

You were shoved to your knees in front of, what you assumed was a man. Clothed in dark stone armor and a red cape, his face was concealed behind some kind of deer mask. He sat on a throne, hewn into the side of the cave, his legs crossed over the arm as he lay across it. A staff lazily gripped in his right hand.

“Guattako, we found them on the trail.” The red haired woman snarled, the child had ran into the darkness.

The man, Guattako, appraised you and Master Windu. “Another apprentice and master, I wonder, will they turn to me just as quickly as the others when I kill the master?”

“I would never.” You spat out, Windu giving a warning murmur as the warlord’s full attention turned to you.

“Never?” He asked, “Aren’t you angry, they stole you from your family, trained you, robbed you of the place you belonged?”

“I am where I belong.”

“Oh dear child, how would you know?” Guattako chuckled, “I will make a deal with you. Join me and I will spare you from death.”

“Never.” You spat out.

Guattako whirled on Master Windu, “And what do you have to say, Master?” He stated the title in a mocking tone.

“My apprentice is free to make their own choices, and it would seem, they made their choice clear.” Windu answered calmly.

Guattako’s eyes glowed his eyes landing on the lightsaber in his accomplice’s hand. He reached out his hand and she placed it in his hand. “I will break your apprentice, then I will kill you. All on the holonet, for others to see. They will see, my cause is even greater than the Jedi!” Guattako snarled, he looked down at Windu’s saber in his hands and broke it over his knee. He snapped his fingers, causing the red haired woman and another to grab you and toss you against the wall.

They tied your arms to the chains hanging from the walls. A droid hovered in front of you, it scanned your frame then a red light began flickering on its face.

——————————————————————————————————

The red haired woman approached Guattako and placed two knives into his waiting hands. He spun them, the light glinting of the blades, he turned to Windu. “Shame, I could have had a new lieutenant.” Then he swiped down on your dominant arm, slicing through your robe and into the flesh, you screamed as he dug the blade into the wound. He ripped the blade out and you felt the blood dripping from your arm.

He brought the blade up to your cheek and dragged it down, a long cut following its path. He chuckled, “I’ve always liked the color red.” His blade notched a small cut in your robe and he ripped it open, exposing your front. He sheathed his blade and held his hand out to the girl over his shoulder. “Saber.”

Your lightsaber was placed in his open palm, you flinched when he ignited it. The hum filled your ears, that hum had always been comforting, but in this moment, your blood ran cold. Guattako chuckled.

“In all the Masters I have killed, I haven’t used their sabers against them.” He stepped back for a moment and twirled your saber in his hand. “I’ve heard of the damage Jedi do with these, sure, there’s the ability to cut through anything. Metal, bone, stone. The Padawans I saved, spoke of burns that they had when learning how to wield the saber.” He smirked before setting the blade of your saber against your side.

Heat burned at your side and a scream ripped from your mouth. Your saber was removed from your side for a moment before it was set against your other side. The smell of burning flesh made you wretch.

You could feel eyes on you, not just the ones in the room, but familiar ones. You looked up and swore you saw Obi-Wan before you. This thought was a small distraction before your saber blade was pressed against your body so many times that you were wondering how much of your skin wasn’t burnt by your lightsaber.

——————————————————————————————————

“Would you die for the Jedi Order?” Guattako asked, you could hear the sneer in his voice under his mask.

You glared into his red eyes. “I would.”

You could sense the smirk on Guattako’s face, hidden by his mask as he raised your lightsaber to your throat, the heat pulsing as you took a breath. You raised your eyes to his. If the bastard was going to kill you, you would look into his eyes. Blaster fire echoed in the cave, Guattako fell, your sable rolling across the cave. A young Padawan stood opposite you, blaster in his shaking hands.

“I want to go home.” The boy whimpered. He gripped the blaster and his eyes traveled to Master Windu, who he ran to and began untying him.

“And we will go home.” Windu told the boy before he stood and raced to you, he manipulated the Force to break the chains that held you up, he caught you in his arms as you slumped forward. He gripped at your chin, turning your gaze to him. “I am proud of you.”

You felt tears forming in your eyes. “Master…”

He shook his head, “Sleep now.” He waved his hand before your face and your eyelids drooped and you felt sleep overtake your mind.

Pain burned through the connection, Obi-Wan felt panic rise in his throat. It had been months since anything had passed through the connection. He reached out to you, trying to understand why he was feeling the pain. He tried to send soothing energy to you, something from him. He felt you lock onto his energy for a moment before more pain filled his senses. Master Qui-Gon had sequestered himself in the holo room of the ship. Obi-Wan pushed himself into the room, his eyes wild as he searched for his Master.

Qui-Gon stared up from the holonet projection, Obi-Wan’s eyes fell on your projection. He flinched when the masked figure used his knives against you. He froze when your lightsaber ignited in the figure’s hands.

“Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon greeted solemnly. “The mission on Oosalon has turned. Guattako captured them. He plans to execute Windu, after breaking his apprentice.”

Qui-Gon’s apprentice gripped at his head as pain rippled through the connection again. “So we’re just going to watch? We have to go to them!”

“We are across the galaxy.” Qui-Gon murmured. “We wouldn’t make it in time. The Council is aware of the sacrifice they make.”

“Is sacrifice all the Council cares about?” Obi-Wan snarled.

A chuckle escaped Qui-Gon’s lips. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

Then your voice cut through the room. “I would.”

Obi’s eyes grew wide. “No, no!” He reached out with the Force, wildly grasping for your signature. He locked on just as the blaster fire rang out. Guattako fell and you remained breathing, your eyes focused on where Obi stood through the holonet. Alive. He heard your voice in his mind.

“We are returning to Coruscant.” Qui-Gon stated, standing from his seat and turning off the holonet projection. Obi’s head whipped to his Master, who offered nothing more as he walked to the pilot’s seat.

Obi-Wan sighed, he hadn’t realized the security that single word had brought to him. It had been years since the mission on Mandalore, he wondered if you had felt the same when he sent that one word. Alive. He sat on the floor and closed his eyes, willing himself to meditate, to calm his mind. He was consumed by calm as your voice echoed in his mind. Alive.

[petri808]

Fan Fic Bingo for @einerein​ || B5 + Inukag amnesia. I’m breaking this up into chapters, approx 10-12 maybe, and will try to update weekly or biweekly. we’ll see depending on if school load allows lol :)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Chapter 1

“You need to stop being friends with her!”

“I don’t see what the problem is! She’s just my ex! And you know there’s nothing between us anymore! It’s like you don’t trust me!”

“I do trust you! This has nothing to do with trust! My problem is you always take her side!” Kagome’s arms flailed wildly to accentuate her frustration. “I’ve tried telling you over and over how she treats me when your back is turned, yet you ALWAYS DEFEND HER! I’m your girlfriend, you should be defending me! Not her, ME! The fact you’re unwilling to let her go tells me she’s more important to you then I am!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Inuyasha scoffed and crossed his arms. “I do defend you! I tell her to stop, and she does. What more do you want me to do? She’s still my friend!”

That was it, Kagome couldn’t take it anymore. Her screams let loose along with the flood of stifled tears. “Are you serious?! For all your heightened senses you’re as blind and deaf as a bat! She doesn’t stop, that’s what I’m trying to tell you! But you never listen to me...” She loved him so much, and yet the sense of betrayal was just too much to bear. She started backing away from Inuyasha and her arms crossed over her chest to comfort the skin-crawling sensation tingling along the surface. Kagome was tired of all the fighting and the tears.

Realizing he’d gone too far, Inuyasha reached out to her. “Kagome, I—.”

Kagome quickly recoiled further away. Her emotions were all over the place, but one thing was clear through her clouded eyes, this man was not fully listening to her, and she’d be damned to let him pull her back again. “Don’t touch me!” She gritted out. “Five years I’ve spent dealing with this alone and— Inuyasha... I hate you for putting me through this! I’m done!”

Without another word, Kagome grabbed her car keys and purse, and raced out into the storming night as Inuyasha called out to stop her. She jumped into her car and sped away uncaring of the hazardous conditions. All she knew, is she couldn’t stay there another second. “Ugh!! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Kagome screamed and bawled, her hands tightly gripped to the  steering wheel and foot stomped to the floor. She was loosing it, her mind too distressed to process anything correctly, feeling everything and nothing at the same time.

If she could just get to her family’s home, she could regroup. But the slick asphalt was unforgiving as the thunder and lighting cracked above. It was hard to see through the sheets of rain pummeling her windshield, and the glare of the thunder cracks produced seconds of total loss of visibility. Suddenly, an inordinately large flash blinded her, followed with a boom so close it rang in her ears. It was like her eardrums exploded and all Kagome could hear was a white, static noise. She screamed as the sensation of drifting sent a chill up her spine, and her last thought as the car careened into the pole... “Inuyasha...”

“Fuck!” Inuyasha growled as he ran both hands down his face. He still didn’t understand why Kagome had snapped and was torn about what to do next. Should he go after her? Because it was certain to just spark another fight. He paced in his living room, going back and forth like the thoughts in his head. If he loved her, he should go after her. But she’d said she hated him... a statement which sent a dagger straight through his heart because Kagome Is more important to him then his ex. He just couldn’t understand why it was such a big deal to stay friends with an ex-girlfriend, since in the end it was Kagome that he wanted. Though... she was right, if he already made such a decision, instead of fighting her on it, he should have just given in.

He’d spent too many precious minutes debating with himself such a stupid thing. What mattered was he loved Kagome, and it was time to do the right thing no matter the consequences. Inuyasha grabbed his own car keys and took off after her. There was only two places Kagome would run to, her family, or Sango. He’d start at the family’s home and get his girl back! But as he drove, even with his supernatural vision, the blinding rain and cracks of lighting made the journey difficult. Inuyasha drove as quickly as he safely could, rounding a bend in the road and having to slow to a crawl as flashing emergency lights littered the area in front of him. Just great! An accident shouldn’t be surprising in these wet conditions, but it slowed him down!

A police officer with a flasher was guiding the crawling cars past the one-car wreck. Inuyasha like many others looked over to see the car wrapped around a light pole. Oh, it was a pretty bad...

“Kagome!” Inuyasha stomped on his breaks the second he recognized the vehicle. It was his girlfriend’s car! He instantly swerved to the side and jumped out running towards the officer. “That’s my girlfriend’s car! Where is she? Is she okay?!” He spied an ambulance and made a move to rush towards it. But the officer stopped him. “Kagome!!!” Inuyasha screamed. “Kagome?!!”

“Sir! Sir!” The officer held him back. “The woman is being transported to the hospital...”

Inuyasha grabbed the officer by his vest, forgetting the trouble it could gain him. “Is that Kagome?!” He demanded! “Tell me damn it! Is she gonna be, okay?!”

Luckily for him, the officer recognized the man’s distress and rather than escalate his odds against a hanyo, did his best to calm Inuyasha. He kept his voice even and soft. “Sir, all I can tell you is she wasn’t conscious when we arrived. Do you know her emergency contacts?”

“T-That’s me.”

“Okay, the hospital will need to verify who you are. But just follow the ambulance. Okay? Don’t drive reckless, just follow. Understood?”

“Y-yeah...”

“Good, now get back in your vehicle and once the ambulance starts to leave just do as I told you.”

“Alright, alright, fuck!” Inuyasha slicked the dripping water off his face and got back in his car. He watched as the officer let the EMTs know someone would be following them and all he could think was they needed to hurry up! From what he could see, the wreck was a bad one. Kagome’s car was crinkled, wrapped partially around the base of the pole. It must have slid because it was the side of the vehicle that impacted the pole, and hard enough to crack it. She must have been speeding around the bend and lost control.

Within a few minutes, the ambulance left, and he followed close behind. “Fuck! This is all my fault! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” All he could do was pray it wasn’t as bad as it looked. The vehicle had airbags, so hopefully it lessened the impact on Kagomes body. Yet the nagging dread still ate away at Inuyasha. If only he had stopped her from leaving... if only he’d just told her what she wanted to hear... but no, like an idiot, he just had to win the argument since he didn’t understand the gravity of her pain. And now look what happened.

Kagome was immediately rushed into surgery leaving Inuyasha behind in a waiting room for information. In the meantime, he called her mom, and their best friends, Miroku and Sango, dreading how was he going to explain this all to them. When they arrived, he told them about the fight.

“And that’s how I came upon the accident,” his ears pinned and drooping. “It’s my fault.”

“Oh, hun,” Mrs. Higurashi hugged Inuyasha tight. “This is not your fault.”

“It kinda is...” Miroku mumbled gaining a hard slap by Sango.

“Yes, it is.” The hanyo agreed. “I could have stopped her, but I didn’t.”

“Inuyasha,” the older woman leaned back and placed her hands against his face. “It was an accident, these things happen. What’s important is that you are here because you love her.”

At the word love, the burly hanyo lost all control, and the tears he’d held back flowed free. That’s right! He loved Kagome more than anything in the world. It should have been enough to make him choose the right thing in their fight, but he didn’t and that tore him up. If he loved her, then why didn’t he?! Inuyasha was going to beat himself up over it no matter how many people tried to tell him otherwise. Accident or not, the woman he loved was currently fighting for her life on an operating table and if she died… He’d never forgive himself.  

[wexhappyxfew]

The Nightingales of Fortune Favors the Brave

A Band of Brothers Fanfic Coming Fall 2021 (or presumably whenever Landslide finishes up!) 

HELLO!! If you’re reading this, then as you can see, I’ve finally created a master post with all my Nightingales (well, not really mine THE PUBLIC’S but you’ve all gifted them to me ever so graciously, and it honestly, it means the world to me). Just to see the excitement and reception I’ve gotten from so many people in the fandom involving a female group of Pathfinders - an area of war, I have wanted to cover ever since nearly over 2 years ago I got involved in the fandom. All OC’s will have their creators name listed beside them - I did not create any of these OC’s, all credit goes to the lovely people who crafted and gifted them to me for FFTB!

Viewing where I currently am in my life, I’m going to going to college this year! I got accepted into the school I wanted, the program I wanted, even a scholarship! And I’m beyond excited. I really wanted to have something there for me when college does finally, you know, HAPPEN, and so Fortune Favors the Brave was the only way to go! To have a wonderful group of Nightingales, of female Pathfinders in the Band of Brothers fandom, seemed to be the way to go. Updates and such will definitely be different - I’m picking up more work hours this year, probably even summer classes, night classes, weekend classes - whatever I can do to benefit my degree and myself, I’m taking the opportunity. 

And so, updates will presumably be quite different, depending on a variety of things, but...this will be my college story! No matter how many years it takes to complete and update and write, this will be the thing I have with me through it all for when I need a mental break from school! And I am beyond excited for when I do finally get to share this story more than anything! 

We have such a great group of OCs here - different backgrounds, different reasons for joining, different creators who gifted them to me, different friendships, relationships and abundances of sisterhood and brotherhood moments. I’m truly beyond excited to showcase the Pathfinders side of the war in the light of 16 female OCs, whose stories will be told through their viewpoints based on different episodes whether whole or split! 

So thank you ALL!! These past 2 years have been a joy in the fandom and let’s hope for another few more! I’ve managed 3 fics and 4 books total and I’m excited to bring, presumably, my FINAL Band of Brothers fic in the fandom to you all in the near future. Thank you!! <3

THE NIGHTINGALES 

Team C DZ C for 506th PIR, 501st PIR 

-> 2/506 PIR (Stick 2/Plane #4) 

-- TOCCOA VETERANS --

Team Leader 

Captain Eleanor Graham - @basilone

Eleanor Graham had never met a challenge she couldn’t conquer - the eldest of four and a farmer’s daughter, teamwork and diligence were drilled into her mind like clockwork, along with being as much of a leader in the eyes of her family as she could. There was more to life than a farmer’s wife for her future though, no matter how much she adored the farm her family had grown to craft from the ground up. Iowa brought no opportunity except the farm life deemed fit for her, so upon seeing the advertisement “ It’s Your Fight Too “, OCS had never seemed like a better choice in her eyes. Because it was all their fights - man, woman, child, anyone - it was a World War, a fight for all their lives, for human lives. And with the capability to obtain Captain just before leaving for Camp Toccoa, it solidified her position for not only leading in Easy Company, but leading the Nightinagles - the first stick of female Pathfinders.

Assistant Team Leader

Lieutenant Florence Godfrey - @pxpeyewynn

A British lady and an artist at heart, from the little town of Avebury, set inside Wiltshire of Great Britain, her father made it big in New York just as the war that swarmed throughout Europe, erupted into spitfire. And suddenly thrust into the world of an America before war, was unsettling. Her country fought while America remained neutral. Yet, when the advertisement flooded throughout New York City - she couldn’t help but take it as her only way to get into war. OCS was beyond enough challenges, but walking in as a Lieutenant for Easy and for the Pathfinders, she was no longer the little girl who prayed at night to whomever was above to end the people’s suffering, or avoided interaction to instead draw in her notebook. She was a Lieutenant, and she was a woman at war - yet what was she even fighting for? 

Eureka Operators (each equipped with a Eureka Transponder each)

Sergeant (NCO) Marie Reynal - @thoughpoppiesblow

Grandmère Reynal always held her at night, under the dark night sky and sang in her soulful Cajun French, the words flowing from her lips and remaining an ever-present comfort in times where food was hardly ever on the table, or when she had to watch the other girls at school get the latest Mary-Janes and she was stuck with her old ones. Her grandmère taught her to appreciate the small things in life. But when the “It’s Your Fight Too” poster came out in the papers, Marie Reynal knew there were larger things in life than the newest Mary-Janes at school. Packing up what she could, Marie headed out to Camp Toccoa, equipped with nothing but some clothes and her fiddle. 

Corporal Edith Lockner - @mercurygray

Remember to look up - her mother would always tell her that. Especially when things on their little farm got hard in Stanford, Illinois where the only thing that occurred there was the wagering price of corn that fluctuated with the ever-changing times. So...she figured that’s why she always tended to look to the stars when her mother would tell her that before bed each night, looking out the wooden window under her quilt as a cold draft blew in. She always imagined herself up there, amongst the stars and for once seeing what the stars saw. But to be up with those stars and to get to study them, she’d need a lot more money than what ever amount the corn tended to bring in. And the Airborne with a fantastic pay grade, along with the Pathfinders and their earnings -- it seemed her ticket out. Maybe there won’t be stars - but anything’s got to be better than here. 

Wireman 

Corporal Chiyoko ‘Luna’ Omori - @papersergeant-pencilsoldier

Know your place. Eyes down, mouth shut. And most importantly, honor your family. Chiyoko Omori has never been one to step out of line, nor has she been one to speak when otherwise not spoken too. Trained in the art of kendo, the Japanese martial arts that her ancestors trained in, she leads with discipline and integrity amongst the group of Nightingales training as Pathfinders, as the solo wireman of the group. Her intelligence, more than once, has saved her and in war might just save her again and again. Her father’s garage had always been home to a multitude of repairs and many she had learned to do herself. But there she had been Chiyoko. But for war, she must forget who Chiyoko is and embody the only other name besides her family name that she will ever know - Luna. 

Lightmen (each equipped with 2 Halophane Lamps each) 

Staff-Sergeant (Senior NonCom) Sarah Prowse - @junojelli

For once in her life Sarah Prowse would not have her twin brother by her side. He hadn’t been by her side for years after he went back home to fight with the English and lost his life at Dunkirk. But this was real, this was happening - and the Pathfinders withheld the opportunity to prove to herself that Edmund had died with valor and courage. And he would not have died in vain. The nannies had always said they were inseparable but they weren’t those kids anymore. This was real life. And in real life, there was love and loss and pain. And sometimes the only way to get through it all was to do the thing to distract you most from it all. Some days she wished her family could’ve just stayed in England - maybe Mum would still be here. With her sharp mind, and the ability to read people like an open book, rising to the rank Staff-Sergeant had come easily - reading the field and reading people were pretty similar...right? 

Corporal Jean Dawson - @tvserie-s-world

Life in Louisville, Kentucky had always been a sort of cozy-comfort that Jean Doxon had always enjoyed. The weekend fairgrounds filled to the brim with people enjoying the night life it offered, early summers filled with watching her father race horses around the tracks sprinkled throughout the town and nights by her boyfriend, Glenn Hartley, where the sky seemed to stretch forever into the night. That is before the war sent him away to the Pacific. And their only form of communication was reduced to letters, with pressed flowers and the hint of rose perfume. Jean refused to mope about, when she knew this war was hardly far from over. Quick-thinking on her feet, and a town champion for knot-tying in her days in elementary, she packed what she could and left for Georgia the second she was able to take the first train out. The Airborne had much to offer, but more importantly so did the Pathfinders. 

Corporal Mercy Codonoa - @whoahersheybars

Mercy Codona always been a traveler, never staying in one place and always on the move to somewhere new that she might've never quite been before. This meant new neighbors, new friends and a new way of life. Something the United States readily offered. Each new town in a new state had a different way of life than the next. She figured that's why she was so quick to adapt to her surroundings - nothing was ever permanent, nor set in stone. Neither was family. Orphaned by 17 and left to fend for herself, left in the care of her mother's estranged sister, Mercy took the liberty by herself to do what she could to support herself. Taking up odd jobs in each town she traveled to and managing what she could to feed herself. But she was proud of her Romani-Croat heritage and what her ancestors had done in their past lives. She intended on continuing what their stories had not finished. If only she could continue to support herself. It was only when the "It's Your Fight Too" showed up newly on the Fort Wayne clipboard by the post office in April 1942 and then and there in that moment did she decided - with the extra money the Airborne offered, along with that of the Pathfinders, she'd be able to support herself in the future as well as possibly find people with the same dreams as herself for their futures, and for once finally belong.

Private Kennedy Rutlidge - MINE

Kennedy Docherty had always had quite a wild and exciting mind, always having a new idea, or a new method on selling the most recent paper that got her a few cents an hour. All through her schooling years and even up to her senior year, she took to the busiest corner on Lake Ave and Lyell Ave, calling out to sell her papers, before heading home for the night and running her normal routine the very next day. She spent summers at Lake Ontario, in her grandmother's home on the lake, where some of her fondest memories of her youth had been born. She always believed that's why she was always fascinated with flying, like one of the birds or hawks that flew out across the lake in the early morning. What she'd give to get that feeling just once in her life, away from school and away from the constant need to make as much money as she could to help with the family. The words "It's Your Fight Too" scrawled across the paper in early April had caught her eye within a second and left her running home just that night to break the news that she was signing up. And almost a week later, she found herself packed on a train towards Camp Toccoa, Georgia, bright eyes and the last bit of innocence fading from sight.

Security Personnel  

Sergeant (NCO) Alexandra Calypso - @iilovemusic12us

A Boston girl who grew up with her proud Jewish faith, with a Greek mother, knew hard work and sometimes it was pushing yourself to the very limit beyond what the human body could handle sometimes. So that meant falling, scrapping your knee a few times, sucking up the tears, sending a quick prayer to God and moving on with your life. Life had always been like that - they weren’t the richest, nor the poorest, but there wasn’t ever enough food on the table or enough money to fix the roof, or even to keep the mortgage paid. But her parents never stopped working. And she supposed what drove her to the Airborne and to the Pathfinders was seeing how hard they worked. And they paid well she had heard. She could work with it. And if anything, the Pathfinders were more accepting than any school in Boston she’d been to. 

Sergeant Nellie Shaw - @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant

Hailing from a small, coastal town in Maine, the proud Scot wanted more than anything to stay out of war when it finally came knocking on America’s doorstep. But Nellie Shaw, loyal as saint, knew that there was one thing she could do for this country and that was fight. Give her a pack of cigarettes or a bottle of gin, and she’d go in swinging for the war effort, even with her grumpy morning attitude that slowly became infamous in her elementary school days among the school children. She had no purpose on a farm on a mountain side anymore, rather destined to do what part of the fight she could. Taking Greer Riddell under her wing, the fellow Scot befriended the least likely person to enjoy her company and yet Nellie’s easy-going companionship slowly became integral to the entirety of Easy Company and the Nightingales. 

Private Greer Riddell - @leighinthesky

Schruz, Nevada was home for 21 years and by the looks of it, home for the rest of her life. A bee farm in a tiny town wasn’t idle for the rest of her life, but if she never got the money for college to get out of the small town, she feared she wouldn’t ever leave. And knowing the military had offered 16 women a stick of a plane to get their shot at becoming Pathfinders for the Army was her ticket straight to Toccoa, Georgia for training. The pay could send her not only to college, but could get her out of that tiny town which had confined her to nothing but her family and a cute little bee farm where hard work always paid off. Don’t be fooled by her subdue and withdrawn nature, the second her hands touched the rifle - the field was hers and yet so was the valley.

Codebreaker [Betchley Park Member]

Sergeant Laverne Robinson - @vintagelavenderskies

For her 23 years of life, Laverne Robinson had known just about every spot in London where you could catch a smoke break and not get caught by one of the older women and get scolded for doing so. She blamed her older brother, he blamed her. It was a mutual thing. But that had been the only thing to fear in London - until war struck, which sent every eligible man off to fight for the effort. Her brother included, leaving her staring out the rain speckled window all alone as the smell of her mother's soup wafted past her nose. Yet, like many women of the time, she wanted to fight too. Fluent in French and German and skilled in mathematics and code-work, Bletchley Park seemed the best fit. Working on codes, both sculpting and breaking them inside the building, keeping her lips shut and going on about her normal day when not inside the institution, life didn't seem as dreary as she had anticipated. Because she knew she was apart of the effort to end this war. That was until, she was called upon in late March 1944 to join up with the 101st Airborne with the first female stick of 12 pathfinders to make the jump into Normandy and assist them in anyway possible. Laverne knew it was a once in a lifetime opportunity and if her brother were there, he would've told her to run with it. Becoming a professor of mathematics would have to wait.

REPLACEMENTS

Corporal Alessandra Lisi - @tvserie-s-world

Alessandra Lisi had never known her parents. She was always told that sickness had taken them when she was just a child. Her brothers had been older than her and had tried to protect her from the sight of her parents dying. And so when their Nonna had taken them into her home without hesitation, Alessandra grew to look to her Nonna as the other parental figure she’d ever had. Of course, her brothers were always there for her, protective as they were, they never let her get into any sort of trouble without hearing about it first. Alessandra grew to adore her Italian heritage, cooking with Nonna on Sunday’s, inviting family over to enjoy the meals and even getting to stir the sauce as Nonna dropped in fresh, cut tomatoes. That was life and it had always been life as such. But when war sent her 3 brothers away, she knew she would not go down without a fight either. Upon receiving the paper in November 1943, she noticed the cover page withheld the picture of 12 women, adorned in jump wings as well as military grade goggles and scarves standing with wide smiles and bright eyes in front of a C-47, the title 'The Nightingales', lying just underneath. Female Pathfinders. If her parents were here, they would've been telling her what Nonna would've been telling her now. Fight for what you believe in, because while there's life, there's hope.

Private First Class Bettie Smith - @sgtxliptons86

Brooklyn, New York had it all - the kids in the streets, the shops on the corners where you could get a piece of candy for as little as 5 cents, even the corner stores in the summer where you could get ice cream for a dime. And as Bettie Smith grew older, running the streets of Brooklyn became like a weekend job - checking in on the younger kids of friends, riding bikes past the floral shops and picking up flowers for her sister, getting a bag of charcoal for her father. Even throwing some curses towards the boys who would heckle her for the way she wore her hair or the old shoes laced on her feet. Her older sister wasn’t too pleased with it all, but ever since Ma had passed, she seemed to let it slide - it was an escape for Bettie. So when war came knocking on the Smith’s door, anger, yet pride for their country filled the home, as well as the streets of New York, as more men and women began signing up for the cause. More friends left to join the effort, leaving Bettie there on the concrete doorstep. So when Bettie received the daily paper in November 1943, showcasing the 12 female pathfinders of the 101st Airborne, front and center for all to see, Bettie took it in quite large strides and took the first train of December 1943 to Fort Benning, Georgia.

Private Annie Laine - @wereinadell

Annie Laine, the daughter of Finnish immigrants, had always dreamed of leaving the quiet countryside her parents had always preferred for their family for the big cities of the Midwest - maybe she’d go to Chicago and study theater, or maybe she’d go and finally attend college in Milwaukee. Anything to get out of the small town she currently resided in. But the countryside had brought alone its perks - orienteering and hunting were big in the Laine family and every child, her 3 brothers, her and her sister, had all been taught the noble art. Swimming the streams, fishing in the lakes, taking hikes through the forests and coming back with a deer for dinner - life had always been quite peaceful Annie felt. But she could always hope that one day it changed. And it seemed war rung those bells quite early on. Annie was tired of structured life and if anything, she knew that the start of structured life in the military would fall quite nearly to shambles once they hit war. The November 1943 issue of the daily newspaper brought upon not only sudden interest in the military, but in that of the female pathfinders who were paving their way in all of military history to be the first stick to jump into continental occupied-Europe. All it took was what cash she had saved for college and a small suitcase to get her on the way to Fort Benning, Georgia.

Private Marla Hughes - @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant

Lafayette, Louisiana had been home all her life - Baton Rouge just to the East and New Orleans just a little further. It had always been home for as long as she could remember. With the fancy parties her father always allotted for the family to attend, talking with the men in pristine suits, or the women with the big hats, some days Marla Hughes just wished to be able to go outside and enjoy nature instead of suffocating amongst the people who seemed to live in a world that didn’t even seem like real life. She supposed that was when she had hit her breaking point and joined the Airborne in Fort Benning, Georgia. She was tired of the life that did absolutely nothing for her. There was more to this world, so much more and yet she was confined to a party dress and an expensive glass of wine that tasted bitter when it rushed down the throat. There were small bars, where the music played, and you could dance until your feet grew tired, there were beer bottles awaiting to be clinked together with friends and there were people beside the stuck-up society she was forced into. The Airborne accepted anyone far and wide - and maybe she could strip of the posh life given to her and finally be set free.

THESE ARE THE NIGHTINGALES!!!

> if you have any questions, feel free to send them in! if not, it’s all good! these are our 16 nightingales! :) thank you to all of you who sent them in back in early December! It’s been an honor to craft these wonderful OC’s!

[iatethepomegranate]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences (for now)

Relationship: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast

Summary: After Aeor, Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha. For the first time in more than seventeen years, he has some semblance of stability. Caleb is not sure he's ready to handle it, but he's trying, and his friends are eager to see him live a good life, by force if necessary.

And then Soltryce Academy approaches him with a job offer, which could give Caleb the chance to protect the next generation of wizards the way he had needed at their age. Caleb's goal of preventing what happened to him from happening to anyone else, however, takes a far more personal turn than even he could have anticipated.

(In other words, here is a fic about Caleb settling down and learning how to be a person again. Also Professor Widogast will be a thing. Fic title is a lyric from I Have Made Mistakes by the Oh Hellos. Chapter title is a lyric from Mind by Sleeping At Last. More detailed tagging and notes are available on AO3.)

_____

Chapter 1: It's the first brush stroke of a self-portrait

Caleb had mixed feelings returning to Rexxentrum after spending so long in Aeor… and everywhere else he had been, including a fucking flesh city in the Astral Sea. Sure, he had popped back to Rexxentrum regularly to update the Cobalt Soul on his discoveries, and to testify at Trent’s trial, during the conclusion of which he had the satisfaction of turning down Da’leth’s offer to assume Trent’s position as the Archmage of Civil Influence. But now he was back on a more permanent basis.

He didn’t know what to do with that information. With this place, that was both so familiar and so foreign. Full of some of his best memories, and some of his worst.

Caleb had spent so long avoiding this place, or at least the challenging parts of it, and now Beauregard was dragging him and Yasha down the street, infodumping about a house she wanted the three of them to buy together.

“Caleb, don’t give me that look,” she said. “You’re gonna love this place. I know you like your space, dude, and this is the best of both worlds. It’s technically two houses, but there’s, like, a door between them so we can visit each other. Because you’re a fucking genius but you also forget to feed yourself.”

Yasha smiled at Caleb over Beau’s head. “She’s not wrong, Caleb.” Her soft tone made Caleb a little emotional, but he categorically refused to start crying in the street. “I like my space, too. This is a good balance. And there’s room for a garden.”

“Yasha’s not an Empire citizen,” said Beau. “It looks better if there’s two of us Empire kids on the deed so no one thinks any weird shit about her.”

Caleb sighed at her. “I will look at the house, Beauregard.”

Beau yanked them around the street corner. “It’s a great location. You can walk anywhere. I can get to the Archive, and you can get to the Academy.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Maybe. Astrid says hi.”

The implication that Astrid and Beauregard had been speaking to each other recently was of concern. Caleb was too tired to unpack it. He would find out what that was about eventually. It was not worth Beauregard’s sibling-level mockery if he tried to extract the information early.

“Oh, and Veth sent you this,” said Yasha, passing a wrapped package over Beau’s head.

“Yeah, I might’ve told her we’re buying a house together,” said Beau. “She made Yussa send that to the Soul so I could grab it for you.”

Caleb didn’t open the package, but he did shake and squeeze it a little. It felt like coins. A lot of coins. Oh, Veth. Still taking care of him from miles upon miles away. They’d both come so far from Veth sneaking coins into his pockets because he had felt strange about taking her money even when he desperately needed it.

“Danke,” he said softly. That was all he could say, before he risked bursting into tears again. That was happening to him a lot lately. It… wasn’t the worst thing. More of an inconvenience. He chose not to unpack it.

Beauregard was looking at him strangely. He elbowed her. It probably hurt his elbow more than it hurt her, but she was successfully distracted from his bullshit. She punched his arm. Even holding back like she did, his arm did go numb for a few seconds.

Yasha sighed. “Children, we’re almost there.”

Caleb had been down this street before. Rarely, as it was entirely residential. But sometimes he, Astrid and Eadwulf would explore the city to find excuses to get away from the Academy, especially after they had commenced their training with Trent. But, with Caleb’s memory, he could call upon the map he had drawn in his mind. This was a middle-income area on the southern edge of The Tangles, home to mostly professionals--well-off storeowners, any researchers who did not live in the Shimmer Ward or have access to quarters with the Cobalt Soul, some teachers, architects. Largely people looking to settle down with the money to stay out of the Mudtop Ward.

It was close to the Shimmer Ward, a little southwest from the gate, but not so close that Caleb felt an itch on the back of his neck. The Tangles were the oldest part of the city, with narrow looping streets with little logic to them. This area was slightly newer than most of The Tangles, but still old. Regardless, The Tangles were fairly central to the city and an easy starting point for any travel. If you didn’t get lost on the way out.

This far south in the area, the houses were a little more spaced out. A little more green space, more gardens. Duplex-style houses were common, mostly built of old stone or lumpy brick on the first floor and clay bolstered by wooden frames above that. Children were out in force, running and screaming through the narrow streets while their parents watched from the porch of their homes. Well, for those who had porches.

“There she is,” said Beauregard. They had stopped in front of another duplex-style building, newer than some of the others but still respectable in age. The first floor was made from dark reddish brick and the upper two floors panelled with dark wood to bolster the white clay walls. The first two floors were full in width, and the third consisted of two dormers peeking through the darkly thatched roof.

There were two entrance doors on the ground floor, each spaced a third of the house’s width from the outer corners. The rectangular windows were framed in white-painted wood, dividing the glass on each window into six little squares.

Before the three of them was a low wooden fence, also painted white. The paint was chipping a little, revealing the deep brown heartwood that Caleb suspected was oak. There were a number of oak trees in the Pearlbow Wilderness. Caleb had slept under them several times in worse days. Oak was rather expensive, if he remembered correctly. He usually remembered correctly.

“She’s pretty hot, right, Caleb?” Beau said, snapping out of his hyperfocus on the history of timber in the Zemni Fields.

“Oh… ja.”

“Cool, so the owner will be here in a few minutes to let us in so we can have a look. She wants to sell the place as a package deal.”

Caleb had, in some ways, trained himself out of being too attached to places or most material things (with a few exceptions such as his spell components, spellbook, and the letters he had written to his parents). Unless there was something horrifically wrong inside, he didn’t care where Beauregard and Yasha wanted to live. It was practical that they live together, after all. Caleb had healed immensely this past year, but he was self-aware enough to understand he probably shouldn’t live alone. Of the Nein, Beauregard knew how to call him on his bullshit and Yasha understood him pretty well and knew he needed space sometimes, so it was a reasonable arrangement.

“I am really not picky, Beauregard.”

“Yeah, because you still don’t care enough about yourself to give a fuck about this. We know.” Beauregard looped her arm around his neck, dragging him down to her level so she could rub her knuckles across his scalp, ruining the two narrow braids Essek had worked from Caleb’s hairline to his messy ponytail that morning before they had parted ways beside the secret entrance to Aeor. Caleb talked himself out of getting upset with Beauregard over it. She couldn’t have known, and she was being affectionate like he really was her brother.

Once he was free, Yasha fixed the braids, and Caleb had to stop himself from crying again because she had noticed it bothered him and just… fixed it without making it a thing. Beau straightened her expositor’s garb, clearing her throat.

“Sorry, dude.”

Caleb conjured a mage hand to tug on her ponytail. Beau swatted at it, but her hand went right through it. She gave him the finger. Yasha finished fixing the braids. Everything was normal again.

The owner, a half-elf woman with long blonde hair coiled into a bun that looked like a cinnamon scroll, arrived and immediately shook Caleb’s hand.

“Mr Widogast, a pleasure. These ladies have told me a lot about you. My name is Alphira Winterheart. I teach evocation at the Soltryce Academy.”

Caleb still felt a spike of anxiety when he heard the name of that place. At this point it was ingrained, even if he held out a small amount of hope he would get to teach there one day. It would be easier to fight corruption if he had some say over what the Academy put into those children’s heads.

“A pleasure,” Caleb replied, a little flatter than he had intended. He mentally shook himself, remembering to actually grip her hand for a proper handshake. “Evocation? I used to specialise in that area.”

“Ja, Ms Lionett told me you are now a Transmutation specialist but still frequently partake in the Evocation school in your travels. I’m glad to hear you intend to put down roots here in Rexxentrum. I would love to exchange theories over coffee.”

Beauregard smirked. Caleb remembered a conversation with Essek where they had agreed to return to Aeor and exchange theories. They had meant that literally. But it had indeed sounded like a euphemism to someone like Beauregard. Well, she hadn’t been wrong in the end, but certainly the intent at the time had been more about a meeting of minds than a meeting of…

Caleb concentrated on the conversation in front of him instead.

“Ja, I would enjoy that,” he replied. “What level of Evocation do you teach?”

“Oh, I teach the beginners.”

“And you live here in the Tangles?”

“I did,” said Alphira. “Archmage Beck has offered me lodging on her estate, so I am selling this house. It was always a little large for one person, and it seems you three could make better use of it than I did.” She leaned closer to Caleb, as if to tell him a secret. “The place on the left is where I prefer to experiment and study. I would recommend you look at that one in particular. The dormer is slightly larger. You could even put a teleportation circle up there if you were so inclined, given your need to travel.”

“Danke.” Caleb still felt a little weird about Rexxentrum mages not wanting to kill him, but he didn’t sense any untoward motives from this woman. She seemed genuinely friendly. “How… is the new Archmage settling in?”

“I have no complaints. She seems competent, if a little terrifying. I am uncertain if that is her past as a Volstrucker, or a necessity of the job. She has been nothing but kind to me, and I would certainly prefer to be her friend than her enemy.”

“Ja, we are familiar with her,” said Caleb.

“Caleb most of all,” said Yasha.

Beauregard had to turn away before she burst out laughing.

“We should look at the house,” Caleb said before the conversation could go anywhere strange. Gods, he missed Aeor already.

Alphira unlocked both front doors. They checked the one on the right first.

“This one has a larger living area,” said Alphira, leading them through the entrance. “I am offering the furniture as part of the sale. I have already taken everything I need.”

Beauregard threw herself onto the large couch in the centre of the room. “Yasha and I call dibs on this side of the house. Since you’re gonna spend so much time here with us anyway. We’re taking the larger living area.”

“Beauregard, we have already established that I do not mind.”

The floor underfoot was a pleasant hardwood, probably more oak, and a large rug occupied much of the space. They would have to purchase candles for the evening, but it was well-lit during the day. Caleb followed the women through each of the rooms on the ground floor on this side, largely going through the motions. The kitchen was equally large, and had a good oven for Yasha to practice baking. They would need to purchase a larger dining table.

There was one large bedroom upstairs and two smaller ones, alongside private areas for bathing and other such activities. This was where they found the door between the two houses. The top floor dormer was full of assorted furniture and household items Alphira didn’t need, but they would likely use. Beauregard and Yasha discussed the possibility of turning this into another bedroom for when they had friends over. Or perhaps converting one of the lower bedrooms into a workout space and using this as a replacement. Caleb did not need to contribute much to the conversation, aside from promising he would help move furniture with telekinesis.

Truth be told, Caleb was having a hard time concentrating on the whole thing. He hadn’t really had a home in a long time, and he could not wrangle his mind into understanding the change. The Xhorhaus had been easier to stomach, as nobody had expected to live there forever. But this? Putting down roots? Real , long-term roots?

Maybe Caleb had been homeless for too long. It was beyond his comprehension at this point. And maybe it frightened him a little. He could not afford to inspect those feelings, not right now.

He pulled himself together in time to inspect the other side of the building. His side. His house. Scheisse .

The living area was a little smaller, but could still easily welcome the Nein (just in rather cosy quarters). The kitchen, also smaller but still respectable--a little larger than his childhood home in Blumenthal. There was less furniture on this side; Alphira had evidently used this side more and therefore had more furniture to take. There were two bedrooms on the second floor, one slightly larger than the other. Caleb found himself thinking that he would probably take the larger one just so there was enough room when Essek was over, or maybe he would take the smaller one so Veth could bring her family with her. Fuck. He didn’t know what to do.

And then they visited the dormer. It was indeed larger than the other one. There was a table in front of the window, with a few dark ink stains, and plenty of floorspace to spread out notes or create a teleportation circle. A few chairs were stacked in the corner, seemingly in good condition, and one wall was lined with empty shelves.

Caleb had always been partial to a tower, and this was pretty close. It would make a great study.

He was genuinely excited over a house. In Rexxentrum. A short journey from where his childhood home once stood. He was going to hyperventilate if he thought about this too hard.

“There are already plenty of shelves in my new house,” Alphira said. “These are all yours.”

Caleb nodded slowly, pulling his mind back into his skull. “Wundervoll, danke.” He took a calming breath. “This is a nice place, Professor.”

Alphira smiled. “Yes, I did not make nearly enough use out of it. But I hear you three have a lot of friends from out of town.”

“Ja, we do not see them enough.”

“Perhaps you will see them more once you have a place to welcome them.” Alphira led them back downstairs, and into the other side of the house where they could sit around the small dining table. Alphira already had the paperwork they needed to sign; Caleb got the impression Beau and Yasha had already decided to buy the house before they spoke to him about it. He was glad the decision was out of his hands.

He signed the paperwork, using both his legal name and the name he now wore (Alphira had apparently been briefed on this, and had consulted a contract lawyer on how to make it work on a binding document). Caleb had needed to sign various statements as part of Trent’s trial, so signing in Bren’s name was not as strange as he feared it would be. He was relieved. Beau and Yasha had insisted on finding a way that his new name would also be included, given he had not gone through any legal name-change process. The money Veth gave him more than covered his part of the cost. He needed to hug her. He needed to hug all of them.

Alphira gave them three copies of the contract and handed over the deed to the property. “I will head to the housing authority and file the paperwork immediately.” She slid the keys over the table to them. “Congratulations on your new home.”

She left. Caleb traced the shapes of the letters on his copy of the contract, over and over, letting reality sink in. He had a house. A house in Rexxentrum. A house in Rexxentrum with two of his best friends. It wasn’t at all what he imagined he would have when he was seventeen, when he thought he and Astrid and Wulf would one day have done their duty for the empire and settled down together.

But this was good. This was right .

He cried. Yasha was probably crying, too, but he couldn't see. The three of them hugged across the table, the edges jabbing their ribs.

[twilitty]

Moonlit ch.1

This is the first chapter in my new fic Moonlit, it will be posted on Tumblr, ao3, and ffnet. New chapters uploaded every week and a half. Message/comment to be added to my tag list.

3k words

big thank you to my beta reader @effervescentlyirrevocable who has given me the absolute best criticism and helped make this chapter so beautiful :)

Bella moves to Forks Washington, her first week is uneventful. This fic has aged up characters, making them all at entry-college level ages.

Chapter One

My senses are sharper in Forks than they were in Phoenix, I’ve only been here a handful of days yet everything seemed brighter, louder, more alive than my past home. There was something here for me, something that made me feel more alert than I have in years.

The sound of heavy rain slowly pulls me out of my restless sleep, an elbow is thrown across my eyes in an attempt to keep the real world at bay. It’s always raining, the mist layering the ground never abandons its post, and the chilly air seemingly lasts indefinitely. The rainy town of Forks Washington sooner resembles my personal hell than it does a sleepy old town. The forest that borders the town at each cardinal point is layered in green moss, damp dirt, and an endless supply of fresh animal tracks. I’d moved to Forks only a week ago, the sum of which was spent unpacking dreadfully thin clothing and acquainting myself with the few stores and public access areas the town has to offer.

My father, Charlie, has had little to do with this process apart from moral support and the occasional bag of fast food that he’s picked up while on shift. Charlie is the town's police chief, a job that both seems ill-needed and also unbearably boring. How much crime can be committed in a town of fewer than ten thousand citizens? Other than the odd tag on a school building or bush party, what does his shift consist of? I have yet to bring my insulting opinions on his career to his attention, and likely will never do so. He’s a good man with a heart of gold and a passion for the judicial system, which is ever-present in his TV browsing as he cruises through endless episodes of Law & Order.

I’m not a big TV person, even back home in Phoenix, I preferred reading to the television. Perhaps this was related to my mother’s endless stack of yoga DVD’s that seemed to consume our viewing; her in a downward dog position gossiping about her latest advancements at her newest club membership, me sitting on the couch finishing a craft for her so she won’t be late submitting it. My favourite of her crafts was embroidery, one month I embroidered nearly two hundred dandelions on a pair of jeans for her. She gave them to the club administrator as an apology before she quit.

Regardless, at night when the TV is blaring the intro theme to a cop show, I am curled in bed with a book under my nose and headphones in my ears. Blocking out the rain is a full-time chore.

This morning is a particularly eventful morning, not because of any specific events, but rather the events that will be set into motion because of this morning. Today is the first day of my online college courses. I’m currently enrolled in an undeclared major. My hope is that the three courses I’m taking this spring term will help me decide on what I want to do in the future.

Charlie had given me a new laptop upon my arrival in Forks, a current model with modest upgrades to “enhance my academic experience”. Or at least that’s what the box boasted. I am not entirely convinced that a larger memory will miraculously cure me of my educational despise. High school was tortuous, I had few friends and fewer interests outside of my mother’s hobbies. I had no extra-curricular activities that were not synonymous with financial responsibilities. The monthly budget book was mine to care for, as was the constant, intrusive phone calls of the bank when my mother got too engaged in a store. She’s a gullible woman if nothing else. If a store clerk tells her a blouse suits her figure, she’ll purchase ten colours in the article along with two in a size lower just in case she finally loses the ten pounds she’s been trying to shed.

My eyes have barely opened, the down of my forearm just a fraction away from my pupil when Charlie pounds against my door. You’d imagine I was fostering a fugitive in here with the noise he’s making, but this is just the way my father is, loud noises and soft voices. I wonder, idly, if perhaps he has minor hearing loss from spending so much time around guns.

“I’m up!” I call out, my voice is thin and calloused with morning sleep. I clear my throat as the knocking cuts off, “Good morning, Dad.” Charlie doesn’t like me calling him Charlie.

“Morning, Bells,” he calls back through the door, quiet enough to not be taken as aggressive yet loud enough to sound authoritative. He is a father, my father, at heart. He pauses, and it’s as if I can hear the mental gears shifting in his mind. He hasn’t had to be a father since I was a baby, after that Renee was the parent. Charlie was the summer distraction. “Don’t be late for school.” I grunt a response, reaching for the alarm clock on my nightstand and groaning at the early hour of the morning. Barely eight, class doesn’t officially start until noon. I guess there’s nothing wrong with logging in early, although I’d much rather catch up on the sleep I’ve lost to the thunderous storms we’ve been experiencing recently.

As if he could sense my intentions, Charlie knocks against my door again. “Bella, I mean it. You didn’t come here to slack off, now.” No, I think nastily, I came here for peace and quiet.

Between unpacking my belongings and touring the town, I’ve developed a routine in my new living situation. Charlie is fond of my company, enjoying having a woman in the house outside of his ex-wife, my mother and ex-roommate. Although, his fondness of my presence does not directly translate to time spent together. He makes me breakfast, occasionally placing it in the oven to keep warm, and then immediately heads off to his family that is the Forks police station. We meet again for lunch, depending on our individual plans for the day, and then reunite again just in time for dinner. Food really is the great American pastime.

I dress in jeans and a light blue sweater that smells mysteriously of mildew although it’s a recent purchase and has yet to be worn outdoors. I suppose the rain permeates every available space, closed windows be damned. My socks are tall and I have to roll my jeans up at the bottoms to accommodate for the thick, high fabric of them. It’s a trick Charlie taught me for wearing rain boots, the higher the socks the less likely they are to run down to your toes as you walk. Immediately after that trick was taught I went to the nearest hiking store and purchased a pair of rain boots. My first pair of rain boots at nineteen years of age. Unfathomable yet ironic considering my lineage marks back to the wettest town in the continental US. My ancestors roll in their graves every time I step outdoors and forget a jacket or umbrella, I’m sure of it.

Charlie is waiting for me downstairs, both a surprise and unwelcome presence. I had a battered copy of Dorian Gray under my arm, I was expecting philosophy and moral ambiguity, not idle conversation. Before the chief notices my book, I slide it over the back of the couch and enter the kitchen with a polite smile. There’s bacon frying on the stovetop, the police chief is dressed in uniform already, but has a stained white apron tied around his neck. “Dad?”

“Oh,” he turns around and gives me a tight smile, “Excited for your big day?” You’d imagine it’s my first day of preschool with the amount of enthusiasm he’s trying to keep hidden from me, not my first day of online school. I don’t say anything to dampen his mood, I’m glad he’s excited about something. His life is repetitive, if my existence here proves to be no more useful than just disrupting his schedule, it will still be a success.

“Yeah, I guess.” He turns back to the bacon and shifts it around quickly, the grease snapping up at him. If it burns him he doesn’t show it, just maintains the stiff-backed posture of a respectable police officer cooking his daughter breakfast. “I’ve gotta ask, what’s up with the apron?” I stifle a giggle behind a bite of the toast that’s sitting in the middle of the small table. He shakes his head in faux annoyance.

Charlie takes the pan off the hot element, sliding the bacon onto two plates and pouring the grease into an open can. The second trick he taught me since arriving here: never pour grease down the drain.

“I’m in uniform, it would be disrespectful to the badge to stain it.” He slides a plate of bacon in front of me, sitting down in his designated seat across the table. “Besides,” he takes a sip of coffee from his to-go mug. “Can you imagine walking into a police station smelling of fried pig?”

Breakfast ends quickly. We each eat a piece of toast, Charlie stuffing a second piece into a plastic bag “for later” and heading out the door. I still have half a plate of bacon in front of me after he leaves, the maple glaze filling the small kitchen with its smell.

After my Mom and Charlie got married, Renee redecorated much of the house. Her lace curtains still hang in the master bedroom window, constantly drawn closed. The rest of the house has been minorly updated with age, the TV got bigger, the couch more comfortable, new bed linens and even newer rocking chairs on the porch. I had asked Charlie if they were Moms when I first came up to the house a week ago.

They were rocking gently in the wind, the wood seemed to be polished as it shined in what little light filtered through the depressive clouds. They were sitting side by side, matching pillows on them both, a coffee table in the middle with a stack of coasters. It was an old person's porch, where husband and wife would sit all grey and wrinkled, waving at the neighbourhood kids as the bus dropped them off from school. I could almost picture Charlie and Renee sitting there, her knitting a scarf and him content to just watch her and the scenery.

He informed me that they were relatively new, a purchase from a shop down on the Reservation. We haven’t spoken about them since, but I wonder if perhaps he wishes he had someone to sit out there with him.

I spend the morning before class doing odd chores around the house. It’s nice living at Charlie’s, nicer than I had expected it to be. I’m not a fan of the weather or the fact that I currently have no social life, but it’s nice to just sit. I throw my laundry in the wash and manage to get the kitchen cleaned up with just enough time left over to sit on the couch and read a chapter of my book before class.

School has never been my strong suit. That’s not to say I get poor marks or intentionally skip classes, I just never found it as fulfilling as my peers seemed to. I never woke up and looked forward to the social or academic aspect of high school. Perhaps this contributed to me postponing my college experience and only starting it now when I should already be a year into my program.

When I log into my schools online database and click on my first class, Social Psychology 1001, I’m immediately transported to a screen filled with windows and the faces of my classmates. “Hello, class!” The professor's voice calls out over my computer. Perhaps online school won’t be my strong suit either.

Class ends and the next one starts, and I get through all three classes and an hour's worth of homework by the time Charlie pops in for dinner.

“Hey, Bells,” He calls as he opens the front door. I can hear him from where I sit in the kitchen, hanging his gun belt up by the front door and kicking his boots off into a heap on the floor. I imagine Mom back in Phoenix, walking into the house with arms full of bags and tossing her flip flops onto her pile of shoes beside the coatrack she used for purses. Some things won’t ever change.

“How was work?” I ask. He pauses to poke his head into the kitchen, moustache moving as he chews on his lip. I can’t remember when Charlie initially grew out his moustache, just that one summer I arrived and thought could he look more like a cop?

“Good, good, just some meetings. New family moving into town, all foster kids around your age.” He takes pause, staring off into some middle ground in the hallway as if deep in thought. His eyebrows furrow, “Don’t want any trouble makers coming in, but the father seems nice. Respectable.”

“That’s nice,” I contribute conversationally. Charlie and I rarely have material conversations, always just idle talk of the weather or what's for dinner. I’m not entirely sure how to approach this topic, which clearly seems to be occupying his mind.

“Yeah, he’s a doctor.” He grins at this, toothy and a little crooked to the right side. A pang of embarrassment settles in my chest before he speaks, as if knowing where this will turn. “Perfect for you, considering how often your clumsiness-” I wave a hand over my face, grimacing at his words. “Don’t speak it into existence,” I mutter with a half-hearted plea underlying my words. He chuckles, disappearing up the stairs.

I hear the shower turn on after a few minutes of him fumbling around, presumably trying to get undressed. I’m sure once he’s showered and in sweatpants it’ll be twenty questions about my day of school. I’m not sure I have the heart to break the truth to him: it absolutely sucked.

The material was interesting enough, psychology has always been close to my heart. I loved the idea of people being more than their actions and thoughts, that there was something making them say that or something making them act that way. Perhaps this was yet another symptom of having Renee for a mother.

I sit at the kitchen table for a moment longer, my computer is closed in front of me and my pencil case- dreadfully unnecessary with school being online-sits closed and untouched. I haven’t made any friends in my classes, not that I had expected to. Twelve years of public school and no friend group to show for it, just a few texts every couple of weeks. Why would I have believed college, and an online college at that, would be any better?

Having enough with my thoughts, I get up from the table and pack my things into my bag. I’ve completed enough work for today, the rest of the evening I’ll spend either with Charlie or in my room. I’d rather not be nose deep in pdf textbooks and youtube videos constituting as follow-up lectures, I’ve had enough of that today. As if sensing the immediacy of my departure from the kitchen, the shower cuts off and I hear the bathroom door squeak open. For a man who, until recently, lived alone with too much free time, you’d imagine he’d have taken better care of the house. Nearly every door, except my own, creaks open and closed. I made sure to oil my hinges nearly immediately after moving in, I didn’t want Charlie to wake up every time I sneak downstairs for a comfort snack or warm glass of milk to help me sleep. He’s lived alone for nearly twenty years, he doesn’t need his sleep schedule disrupted now.

“The game is on in-” Charlie pauses as if double-checking the times mentally, “- an hour and a half. Are you interested?” He’s calling from up the stairs. I wonder if he truly wants me to watch the game with him, whatever sport it may be, or if he’s only being polite.

“Uh, I was just going to organize my room right now and then maybe make something for dinner,” I say in response. The floors don’t make a noise and I know he’s heard me, but he doesn’t respond. A lump forms in my throat, perhaps he really did want to watch with me.

“That’s fine, but if you want we can order in?” The lump passes and I convince myself that there is no reason to avoid the TV. It’s not like I’ll be a disruption, if I get bored I can read on the couch. I’ve only watched TV with Charlie on a few occasions since my move here, and each time I strategically saved my questions for the commercial breaks.

“Sure! That works.” The floorboards creak and I hear him retreat into his room, the door closing with a pitiful squeak.

We eat pizza on the couch, a large meat-lover for the carnivorous father and a small vegetarian with extra mushrooms for the daughter who cares about her cardiovascular health. We eat slowly, occasionally Charlie will make a face at the television or mumble something under his breath, but other than that we’re quiet. The sport turns out to be baseball and I recall a few of the basic rules from the tragic gym classes of my past. It’s not disastrous in any way, and surprisingly I don’t get bored. There is something relaxing about the repetitive nature of the game.

After the game ends we box up the remaining slices and put them in the fridge to be eaten tomorrow, say good night, and go our separate ways at the top of the stairs.

taglist:

@musingsofvenus @maybesandohnos

[winterscaptain]

magic.

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Hard of Hearing Reader

request from @icantswimhalp​: Hi hun! I was hoping you could do a reid fic with a reader who is hard of hearing? It would be really awesome if you did. ❤ a/n: quick disclaimer - i am not d/Deaf or hard of hearing myself, but i do work closely with the d/Deaf community. if anyone has any notes, please send them my way! any errors are my own, and i have done my best to be as accurate and inclusive as possible. rating/words: g / ~1500 no warnings apply!

AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Open!

italics are signs, and anything in “quotes” is spoken aloud. 

+++

Your alarm woke you, the flashing light just as offensive as it was every morning. You smacked it until it turned off and sat up, checking your phone. Two text messages from Spencer. 

6:18am Got a call into work. Didn’t wanted to wake you. Sleep tight and I’ll update when I can. 

10:23am Case is local. We’re still in the office. 

You texted him back right away. 

10:31am Want me to bring lunch? I can order for the team.

When you stood, you put on your smartwatch. It was a Christmas gift from Spencer, and he had Penelope set it up so it would flash with your alarms. It had an app that could transcribe speech in case you didn’t want to read lips, and you couldn’t deny the convenience of the buzzing feature for your texts.

Slipping your sweats on, you padded to the bathroom and brushed your teeth. Your watch buzzed, and you checked it. 

10:33am I’ll send you orders for JJ, Garcia, and Hotch. 

The orders that followed were pretty simple – their favorite sandwiches from their favorite sandwich shop on the way to Quantico. The owners knew you by then, as you always tried to feed the BAU when they were working local cases or stuck in the office with piles of paperwork a mile high. 

For convenience and time, you slipped your hearing aids on to make the phone call. It wasn’t perfect by any stretch, but anything was better than nothing. They needed to hear you more than the other way around, anyways. 

+++

You waved at the owner and her son as you picked up your box. She signed her thanks, and you grinned back at her. She had been exposed to a few signs on the rare occasion that you and Spencer had the opportunity to sit in the little deli and eat at one of the checkered tables. 

+++

The security guards on the first floor were more than happy to help you shuffle lunch through the checkpoint, and they may have stolen a few fries from JJ’s meal.  

By the time you finally made it up the elevator to the BAU, you’d yanked your hearing aid out and threw it in your purse. The building was far too loud, too busy, and it never failed to give you a headache. 

You went to shoulder the glass door open, only to find it held open for you. You smiled at Hotch. With your hands full, you couldn’t sign. You spoke instead. 

“Hey, Hotch.”

Hey! How are you? He looked happy to see you, but you knew him well enough to see the strain behind his eyes. 

“Good,” you said. “Busy morning. Your lunch is in here. How’s Jack?”

Thank you, he signed, gesturing toward the box. Want help?

You shook your head, and he let you lead the way into the office. When you settled in the kitchen area, he propped himself against the counter and started to sign. You unpacked the box, keeping your eyes on Hotch as he signed. 

Jack is good. Doing well in school. He passed his math test last week and will probably be ahead of his classmates next year. 

Wonderful, you signed back. Tell him I’m proud of him. 

Of course. Come to Dave’s next time we’re all there together. The boys love your stories. 

I will, but you’ll need to keep Spencer honest for me so he doesn’t forget. You grinned at him, and he offered a small smile back. Other than Spencer, Hotch was the only confident signer in the unit. You’d become fast friends because of it. Emily was picking it up rather quickly, though she stumbled and got nervous often. Derek was getting better. Last week, he proudly informed you (in adorably broken sign) that he practices with Spencer on the jet on the way home from every case. 

Hotch’s gaze tracked up over your shoulder and he raised his eyebrows. You whirled around. Spencer stood in the doorway, a smile on his face and hands in his pockets. You bounced toward him and he brought you into his arms, keeping one of your hands pressed to his chest. You spelled “Hi” into his hand and felt him laugh. 

He leaned back and met your eyes. Thank you for bringing lunch. This case is crazy. 

Aren’t they all? 

Spencer laughed. True. 

He taught you a few industry specific signs, but serial killer and family annihilator were your favorites because of the faces Spencer made with them. He walked backwards as he told you a few details about the case – ones he could share, anyways. His sandwich was tucked under his arms so his hands were free, and Hotch trailed behind you with his sandwich and JJ’s. 

You sat on his desk and he sat in his chair, your legs hanging over his lap as you ate your lunch. You both had grown out of your aversion to PDA long ago, and were happy to be among your friends for a quick respite. The team always made an effort to regale you with tales of Spencer’s antics in the field whenever possible, and today was no exception. 

“And then he looked at me and said ‘I gave the profile to this one woman and she asked me if I was the unsub.’ I just about died,” Derek said, laughing. They all made sure they were facing you when they spoke, so you could read their lips. Without your hearing aids, they were just a dull thrumming. The direction was easy to pick up, but the content was almost lost entirely. 

JJ said something, and you knew you missed it before she was finished talking.

You glanced down at Spencer, who was watching JJ. He interpreted. 

Spencer did great on that case, Derek. Give him a break. 

You reached out and squeezed Spencer’s shoulder. He looked up at you. 

Thanks. You leaned over and signed at JJ. Hotch voiced your signs. He better be on his best behavior for all cases. Hotch’s glares look tame compared to mine. 

At that, they all laughed and you winked at Spencer. His eyes were more than a little distracting, and you got lost in them for a minute.  

Hotch waved his hand at you to get your attention, and you looked up at him. He signed as he spoke, and you relaxed a little, taking a bite of your sandwich. “That was the same case Spencer used magic to find the unsub.”

You barked a laugh around your bite, absolutely delighted. Really? Magic magic or physics magic?

“Magic magic,” Hotch replied. 

“Okay that’s not,” Spencer looked up at you, continuing to sign. “That’s not what happened. I had to deliver the profile and –“

“The way he was doing it definitely didn’t work,” Derek said.

So what did you do, really? 

You saw Hotch relay your question to the rest of the team. 

“Well,” Spencer started, signing as he spoke, “I managed to deliver the profile using a trick that kept the bartender’s attention while I outlined the key features of the unsub. It wasn’t –“ he huffed, “it wasn’t that ridiculous, all things considered.”

“In fairness,” JJ said, making sure to face you more directly so you could see her mouth as she spoke. “Spence has used magic more than once to help with a case. Remember the train?”

Spencer rolled his eyes and dove into the refuge of your arms. You scooted to the edge of the desk and held him to you, brushing his hair back. It was getting longer, and would probably need a cut soon. 

You felt him say something against you, the vibration of his voice against your hand drawing your attention. Looking up at Hotch with a frown, he helped you out. 

It’s a useful skill, okay?

You laughed, and Spencer held onto you a little tighter. 

The team looked up suddenly in response to something. You watched as Hotch pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Hotchner,” you saw him say. After a few seconds, his mouth fell into a grim line.

All at once, the team was in motion. They wrapped their sandwiches and organized their desks, picking up their keys and backpacks on their way. Spencer stood and kissed your forehead, and you took his sandwich off his hands, wrapping it tightly and putting it in your purse. 

Spencer stood in front of you as he clipped his gun to his belt. He took your hand and signed with the other.  

Sorry. 

That’s okay, you replied. Duty calls. Go get the bad guy.

He kissed you, and you leaned into him. 

“I love you,” you said quietly against his mouth. 

He leaned back and met your eyes. I love you too. 

Please be careful. 

Spencer grinned at you. Always. He kissed you once more and bolted out of the bullpen behind Derek, who held the door for him. He threw another smile at you over his shoulder, and you waved at the team as the elevator doors closed.

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @icantswimhalp @octothorpetopus @hurricanejjareau (i dont have a reid tagging list, so i tagged anyone i thought might like it! let me know if you’d like to be added or subtracted!)

[melofanish]

Have Me, Have You, Have Us

@carlosreyesweek Day 3: “Well, that just happened” + Friendship.

Summary:  Five times Carlos reveals something about himself that no one else knows, and it helps him get closer to the 126 crew, and one time the 126 knows something that Carlos doesn't.

This is a multi-chaptered fic. I've tried to write them all in time to be published together, but by God, they weren't having it. I still haven't decided how I'll update, but I'm thinking bi-weekly. Tags will be updated accordingly.

Tags: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand, Paul Strickland, Marjan Marwani, Mateo Chavez, Judd Ryder, Owen Strand, Michelle Blake, Original Female Character, Original Male Character, Developing Friendship.

Warnings: Mentions of Past Homophobia.

Beta: The owner of my soul @lire-casander

Read on AO3

---

Chapter 1: Paul: Live This Life, It's All We Have

Carlos walks into the honky-tonk a mere forty-five minutes after his shift ended. He was on the way home when TK called him and asked if he would detour. He likes the man, so it didn't need much pondering over.

He sees TK standing in front of one of the multiple dartboards hung on the wall, alongside Michelle, Captain Strand, Judd, Marjan and Mateo. They seem to be engrossed in a contest, if the annoyance on Marjan's face, the smugness in Judd's and the paper and pen in Mateo's hand are anything to go by.

He hesitates for a moment, the idea of walking into the middle of the group to greet them sends a slight shiver down his back and he quickly decides he'll wait for them to finish. He spots Paul sitting at the self-claimed "126 table." He moves towards the bar, ordering mineral water, before he grabs his drink and walks towards the man. Recognising TK's jacket slung over the chair right next to Paul, he plops on the next stool over.

Paul turns around, a hint of surprise in his eyes, until the realisation of who this hits him, and it's replaced with a smile.

"Hey, man."

"Hey," Carlos greets him back, "how you doing?"

Paul shrugs, and even though it's not much, Carlos understands the meaning behind it all the same. They fall into a comfortable silence, Carlos' eyes roaming the open area ahead of them. Three girls stand in the corner, dancing quietly amongst each other, two elderly men occupy a booth, Carlos gets the vibe that they're trading life-altering experiences. More "dudebros" hang around the snooker tables and dartboards. Carlos is about to focus back on TK, when he notices a singular woman sitting in a booth alone, a drink in her hand, a small, shy smile on her lips and eyes trained somewhere on their table.

Carlos frowns. He turns around, about to ask for some super-human Paul deduction powers when he realises that Paul is staring right back at her. A shy smile on his face too.

Carlos blinks. He looks back at the woman and sees that her eyes are now on her table, and then he turns to Paul, and his eyes are roaming the ceiling of the bar. He turns back to the woman, and now she's looking at Paul again. And Paul has his eyes locked on her.

Carlos curls into himself slightly, trying to get out of their visual field. He's sitting somewhat between them, and he'd like to not be. He concentrates on his drink, and everything else in the bar that isn't Paul and his potential lady friend.

A few minutes later, he can't help but look towards her again. She's got her phone out now, scrolling up and down on the screen. Turning to Paul, he finds he's looking at his drink as well.

Carlos goes baffled. The woman is clearly interested in Paul, and while he might not be a super-detective like the other man, he can tell that the feeling is reciprocated. And yet, they're both just sitting here, alternating between eye flirting and avoidance. His curiosity gets the best of him, and he slides into the chair in between them.

"So, you're just not going to talk to her?"

Paul gawks at him, eyes widening in clear shock before he schools his reaction into some form of indifference.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Man," Carlos starts, rolling his eyes at the man, "I may not have the Gods of perception poised on my shoulders, but I'm not that blind!"

Paul narrows his eyes in response. Carlos is pretty sure he's going for accusation, but he's been trained to pick up on anything underneath, and in this case, it's a moment of contemplation. Whatever it is though, Paul seems to have made up his mind on it rather quickly. He sighs and looks down at his drink again.

"It's hard, man. Last thing I need is another rejection."

Carlos can't help the wave of sympathy that goes through him. The again that Paul’s not saying takes him back to the night they went clubbing. TK hadn't said much about why, just that a friend needed a night to have fun and forget about things.

"Ahh. Yeah. That's the queer life."

Paul snorts in reply, "Yeah, not all of us can find the one gay firefighter transfer and charm the pants off him."

Carlos lets out some mix of a loud laugh and a snort.

"Hey! I'm lucky right now, but that doesn't mean growing up didn't suck."

He can tell he's said too much by the way Paul goes quiet, and the atmosphere around them changes. With both understanding and pain. They look at each other, sharing a sympathetic smile, trying to convey a silent "yeah? You too?"

"Parents took it hard?" Paul asks.

Carlos lets out a genuine smile at that. If there's one thing he was blessed with the moment he was born, it was his family.

"The family was amazing. It's everyone else that wasn't."

Paul doesn't ask after that, not verbally at least. Carlos can see the questions in his eyes. He takes a calming breath. No one knows the story that's swarming around his mind right now. Michelle might have collected and connected bits and pieces through the years, but other than that, no one in Austin knows about his childhood.

But here he is. He's okay. And he has a friend who is in a place he was in years ago. Fighting with acceptance and fear of rejection. He takes another breath.

"I came out to my dad and sister when I was 12. Everything went well. They were supportive, pledged their love, all of that," he starts. "A few weeks later though, I started finding notes in my locker."

Paul lets out a groan, undeniably aware of what kind of notes Carlos is talking about.

"A few weeks after the notes started, I got called into the principal’s office and told that my dad would be informed and they would help us "change my homosexual ways", he added, air quotations included.

It takes him back to a decade and a half ago. When a young, short and lanky Carlos was in science class, the notes hidden in the depth of his backpack. When the school speakers boomed with the principal's voice saying "Carlos Reyes, please report to the Principal's office. Carlos Reyes, please report to the Principal's office." He remembers thinking, hoping, that it was about the notes, that the principal will ask who is sending him the vile words, and will make them stop.

He remembers standing up to leave, and the teacher, Mr. Roger, telling to pack his bag as well. He remembers hearing a strange tone, but not quite understanding it. He knows now it was poison, venom, hate. He remembers doing it anyway. He remembers the walk down the hallway, bag on his shoulders, and the teachers glaring at him through the glass slits in the doors.

He remembers getting to the office. The secretary, Ms. Harding, holding his hand, telling him "The Lord will cure you." He remembers not knowing what they meant. Not knowing what they were talking about. He doesn't get the chance to ask. He remembers being led to the Principal's room, the big office much more intimidating to his twelve-year-old eyes than it should have been. He remembers the nameplate; a large golden script of "Mr. Steve Atwood" and a smaller "Principal of Lubbock Junior High School" on a wooden piece. He remembers thinking it wasn't normal wood, it was red, and he didn't know wood could be red.

He remembers Mr. Atwood speaking, telling him that life is ruled by the Bible and God and Jesus. That he's a child who can still change. That this isn't the way to continue living. That his dad will be informed. That he will get help. That there are camps. That he will stop being this way.

"Were you out at school?" Paul asks, the horror evident in his tone.

It's the same horror Carlos remembers feeling when they were leaving church a few weeks before the incident, his sister by his side and their dad a few steps up ahead, talking to a neighbour. His sister had pointed towards a rainbow flag hung on the house across the street from the church. "We should get you one and hang it at home, that way the other boys like you will know where to find you," she had giggled. He had giggled right along with her, until he heard a gasp coming from behind him, and turned to find Mrs. Atwood behind him, eyes wide as he stared down at him in what he now knows was disgust. He remembers the fear that ran through him. But then his sister ran ahead. And he had followed her.

"Not really, but it doesn't make a difference," he explains. "It's not like they would have been supportive if I sat them down and told them."

Paul shakes his head, and then asks, "And then what happened?"

"My dad came in somewhere through the dialogue, I remember Mr. Atwood standing up, trying to greet him, but he was mad. Angry in a way I've never seen before. He told me to go outside and wait for him."

Carlos pauses, the memory assaulting his senses. "I heard him screaming at the principal, saying that it wasn't Mr. Atwood's place to talk to me, that I was a child, that it was none of his business. That I wouldn’t be coming back to that school again."

He remembers the entire interaction like it was mere days ago. His dad walking out of the office, squatting down to Carlos' level and asking him if he had all his things. Carlos had answered a weak "yes", and his dad was already holding his hand, pulling him out of the school and into the car.

"He was quiet throughout the car ride. We turned into our street, but he just kept going, saying he forgot to get something from the store. He started to joke around with me then, telling me he was the World's Strongest Man and he could carry me, and the car and everything and anything. I played right along, and somehow, I found myself agreeing that if he could carry me then he was as strong as he said. We circled around the block, didn't even go to any stores, and parked in front of our porch. He pulled me through his door, hid my head in his neck and ran me home."

Carlos pauses. He can see Paul frowning over the story losing sense. Just like he had thought for so long. It never made sense to him why his dad carried him. Why that day? Why that fast? Until…

"I later found out that someone had written the wonderful “f” slur on our garage door, and he didn't want me to see that."

Paul smiles and nods. Carlos knows there is nothing else he could do. There are no words or actions to express what he felt when he found that out. His dad, the man that had spent his everything raising him, seeing something he knew would hurt his child, and doing everything in his power to protect him. If he turns out to be half the father his dad was, he would consider himself a good father.

"We started packing almost immediately, and we were out of that town in a week. He wouldn't let me or my sister leave the house, not even to play in the yard, throughout the week. Dad said he got a transfer, but he was home for a month, so I have a feeling that wasn't exactly true."

"He just packed y'all up and brought you here?" Paul asks.

"Yes. That's exactly what he did. He wanted us to live freely. To love freely. And he knew we wouldn't be able to do that in Lubbock. So he moved us out."

"To Austin?"

"Yeah, I mean, it was miles better than Lubbock, so, no complaints." Paul hums, but Carlos isn't done, "And plus, I met you, my new bestest friend in Austin!"

Paul laughs at that, and Carlos can't help but join him at Paul's mumbled "Yeah, right!"

The laughter dies down, and the easy silence returns. Carlos lifts the drink to his lips, eyes searching for TK. He sees him practically hanging off Mateo, arms around his shoulders. Marjan butts in between, shaking her hands towards the board while TK makes some sort of hand gesture. They're trying to show Mateo how to throw a dart, he realises. Slightly to their side, Michelle, Captain Strand and Judd hang around, beers in hands, looking pleased. His vision roams the bar again, falling on the woman, and it dawns on him that he never got to tell Paul what started the whole story in the first place.

The realisation sends him into a frenzy. He turns to Paul, only to, of course, find him looking at the woman. He pokes Paul's arm, and his eyes break off her to focus back on Carlos.

"I didn't tell you my coming out story because I had nothing better to do, you know," Carlos starts. "I have more story."

Paul shakes his head, a smile on his face, before making a "go ahead" gesture with his hands.

"When we moved here, my dad sat me down, and told me that he had my back, and that I should live free. Be the person that I am, who happens to be gay. And I thought that would be it, you know, I'd live now. My family was supportive. I was in an open city. I had it all good."

"But?" Paul interrupts.

"But. It wasn't that easy. That interaction with the principal and the looks of the teachers hit me harder the more I grew up, the more I started to understand what they meant. And I found myself a seventeen-year-old gay guy that was out in every way but wasn’t really out. I wouldn't ask anyone out. I wouldn't flirt. I wouldn't even let myself look at guys. All because I was afraid of that judgement and rejection and hate."

Paul huffs a breath, eyes moving to stare at the table. Carlos doesn't speak either. He knows that's what this is all about. The fear of not being accepted. Of not being taken in and liked because of something as trivial as their identity. He knows Paul is contemplating the situation. The win-loss ratio. He knows he did, many times before. He still does.

"How did you get over it?"

Carlos is so lost in his own thoughts and emotions, he almost misses the mumbled question. He takes a breath, letting it out almost instantly in a sigh.

"My dad told me that I had spent too much time in fear. If I'm out, I might as well be out, live life, love life, and stop taking every rejection like it's the end of the world."

Paul nods, looking away at the woman across the bar, before Carlos continues, "When I still complained though, he then said "stop letting homophobic dickhead assholes control your life, if you like dick then you like dick, if the dick you like is a judgemental dick then find a better dick"."

Paul whips his head up to stare at Carlos, realises he is being serious, and proceeds to break out in a booming laugh. Carlos feigns offence for a moment, withdrawing his hand and holding it to his chest.

"You dare make fun of my father's sage advise?!"

Paul is still laughing, letting out broken no's and never's. Carlos drops the act, hands landing on the table and laughing with Paul, until it dies down.

"How did your nerdy self come from such wisdom?" Paul asks, after they take a moment to catch their breath.

"Hey! I took after his wisdom and handsomeness, I'll have you know!"

Paul snorts as he looks at the woman again, and Carlos turns his head just in time to see her lift her head up, make eye contact with Paul, and smile. He hears Paul inhale, and then, the scratch of a stool on wooden flooring.

He looks back at Paul, and finds that he's on his feet, fixing his pants. A grin takes over his face, and Paul levels him with a glare. It does nothing to diminish the excitement he feels when Paul pats his shoulder as he moves to the woman's table. The happy smile that takes over her face increases his own. And when she gestures at the empty seat across her - after a moment of talking - and Paul slides in, he realises that his heart beats with joy for him.

He's brought out to focus when arms circle his torso, and the very familiar lips of one TK Strand press a kiss on his cheek.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"What's Paul doing?" TK says, gesturing with his chin towards the booth they're in.

"Going after the proverbial dick he likes."

[bluewhale52]

The History of Us - Ch. 32

Synopsis: You have built your career and you have 2 rising hip hop superstars as your besties. Life is pretty good, until one drunken night that derails your life plan. How would you survive?

Pairing: ?? x OC , main characters are mostly Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae, but all 7 are present now

Fic type: text

WC: 1.9k

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, fluff, angst, NSFW

Rated: R

Warning: pregnancy, labor, swearing, JK is just the best

Disclaimer: photos are not mine, and of course characterization and scenarios of the boys are purely of my imagination

Masterlist  |  Next>>

Ch. 32 - Let’s Get It

28 June 2019, 9:35pm

Jungkook and Taehyun sit on your sofa, frozen in place, eyes wide and full of fear. You get off the phone with the hospital, and signal to them that you are ready to leave. The boys immediately jump up- Taehyun grabs your overnight bag, while Jungkook gingerly supports you. Slowly you make your way to Taehyun’s car (well Jin’s really, he has entrusted his car to his PA for an emergency such as this), stopping  a few times when you have to endure and breathe through your contractions. 

The cramps started in the late morning with little bearable aches on your lower back and lower abdomen, nothing too different than the monthly period cramps. Then those aches gradually picked up their intensity, and by dinner, you were wailing in your apartment. 

Jungkook has stayed with you all day and witnessed first hand the pre-labour process. You have forbidden him to tell anyone in the group chat, not wanting to worry your friends. When evening came, Jungkook could not take it anymore and called Taehyun. Lucky that he did, as the contractions were getting even worse, and at least Jungkook has a friend to freak out together with. 

And now, here you are in the backseat, giving Jungkook’s hand a deadly grip whenever the pains come on. Taehyun is driving, going as fast as he can within the speed limits, panicking every time he hears you wail and curse.  

Arriving at the hospital, Taehyun haphazardly parks the car in front of the ER and shoots out to find a wheelchair. Jungkook helps you get out, wrapping you in his arms as you cry through another contraction.

Jungkook has never seen you like this. A bawling mess and completely helpless. Even during the period when you were broken up with Taehyung, which Jungkook knows to be one of the hardest moments in your life, you were stoic, strong and in control. But now, Jungkook feels utterly hopeless.

At the maternity ward, the midwife only allows one person to accompany you, so Taehyun stays outside at the waiting area. She then quickly checks on you and preps you for labour. Jungkook turns away when you are changed into a hospital gown, but he stays by your side, probably because you haven’t eased up your grip on his hand. 

“Your water has not broken yet, and you’re only dilated 7cm.” The midwife announces. Then she turns to Jungkook, “You’re dad?”

Jungkook shakes his head, eyes still wide in fear and confusion.

“No,” you gasp, “dad is not here.” 

“OK, we’re going to roll you in to wait for labour to commence. You want him to come in with you till Dad arrives?” The midwife asks gently.

You nod your head. Jungkook gulps.

--

28 June 2019, 10:05pm

You’re clutching onto Jungkook as another bout of pain courses through you. He hugs you, rubbing your shoulders gently. It is the only thing he can do, wishing somehow it helps. 

You feel the cold sensation of the antiseptic on your spine. You sense Jungkook’s body tensing. You have seen the needles used in epidural, and how it is injected into the body. But all this is new to Jungkook.

“Kook,” you whisper, “just close your eyes.”

He whimpers like a scared puppy, but he can’t help himself to look. “Oh my god Noona, it’s so long.”

“Yes,” you pant, “I know. Just don’t look, OK, it’s not pretty.”

The anaesthetist is ready. “OK, let’s wait for this contraction to pass... and now, hold on to him and take a deep breath...” You feel the metal tip of the needle pricks your skin, but you don’t feel the needle going in, you don’t feel any pain other than the severe pressure on your lower back and abdomen. 

Jungkook continues to whimper, a series of ‘Oh my God’ continue leaving his mouth. You are starting to worry if he is going to faint, so you pinch his arm sharply.

“Ouch!” Jungkook yelps. “That hurts, Noona!”

The midwife next to you laughs. “Oh honey, don’t talk about pain to a woman in labour.”

You glare at Jungkook. “Don’t. Fucking. Faint. On. Me.”

Jungkook wants to throw up. The whole epidural injection is making his stomach queasy. But he swallows his bile and continues to hold you, humming a song you recognise as Jimin’s, to distract himself.

Once the epidural kicks in, you feel somewhat normal, and Jungkook can breathe easily again. 

“You’re still not fully dilated yet, so we’re going to wait for a couple more hours, OK? Meanwhile, try to get some sleep.” The midwife suggests.

You settle on your bed. exhausted. “Fuck, Jungkook. Don’t have kids.”

Jungkook buries his face in his hands. “Noona, that was so scary. Do you know how long that needle was? And it went right into your spine!”

You laugh weakly as you pat his head. “Any news from Tae or Jin?”

Jungkook takes out his phone. There are a flurry of messages from Taehyun and in the group chat. He skims through them. “Taehyun said Jin Hyung should be able to fly out in the morning, so he'll be here by tomorrow night.” He scrolls further. “Taehyung Hyung may take longer, Noona. Maybe two days from now.”

Your first child together with those two men and none of them is here with you. Jungkook sees your face crumple and immediately strokes your hair. “Noona, don’t cry please.”

You take a deep breath. “Then it’s just you and me, Kookie.” 

He smiles nervously, but his doe eyes are full of sincerity. “You got me Noona. I’ll stay by your side till Little Miss arrives.”

~~~

29 June 2019, 0145am

You wake up in a daze, almost forgetting where you are. You hear the beeping sound of the machine next to you. You rub your belly as you coo to your baby. “How long more do we need to wait, baby? I can't wait to see you.”

Jungkook is fast asleep in his chair, right next to your bed. You reach out and play with his hair, thankful for his presence at the absence of your lover and your baby daddy. He jerks awake however, at the sounds coming into the delivery room.

Dr Choi enters with the midwife. After a quick update on your condition, he positions himself before you. “OK, you’re dilated fully now, but your water still hasn’t broken yet. Everything else points to baby getting ready to pop out, so we’re going to break your water.”

Jungkook immediately straightens up. Dr Choi looks at him. “He’s new.” The ob-gyn points out to you.

“They're not here,” you feel the need to clarify, your doctor obviously expected to see Taehyung or Jin, “and this one is a friend.”

Dr Choi nods. “OK then, young man, let’s meet baby!”

Jungkook looks at you and takes a deep breath. “Let’s get it.” He says nervously.

~~~

29 June 2019, 0230am

You collapse onto the bed. You feel like you have been pushing and pushing for hours, but there is no progress. The baby just will not come out. Jungkook tightens his arm around your shoulders, supporting you as you try to push again at the midwife’s command.

Dr Choi asks for forceps, and Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sight of the tool. “Noona, what’s that for...” He whispers.

“Shut up Jungkook, just hold my hand!” You shout at him in frustration.

He obediently secures his grip on your hand, and while he is horrified by the whole labour procedure, curiosity is starting to get the better of him. He tries to peek at what is happening between your legs. 

Dr Choi pulls the forceps out, blood staining the metal. Jungkook gasps. “Noona, there’s blood..” He stops as he sees you glaring at him. 

Dr Choi’s face indicates the tool has not helped to progress the delivery either. “I’m afraid we’ll have to do an episiotomy.” 

You nod your head, trusting him and his years of experience to get your baby out. Jungkook turns to you. “What.. what is that?”

“You don’t want to know.” You mutter.

Dr Choi however, is pleased to describe what he is doing, to Jungkook. “I’m going to cut the skin between her vaginal opening and her anus, to enlarge the opening for baby.” Dr Choi smiles. “Don’t worry, she won’t feel a thing, the epidural is in full force here.”

Jungkook squeezes your shoulders in fright. “Oh my god, Noona, he’s going to cut you down there, are y-”

“JUNGKOOK JUST SHUT UP!” you scold him. 

“But Noona, that's so fucked up, it’s down there..”

You grab his shirt. “SHUT. UP.”

“OK!” Dr Choi exclaims, almost cheerfully. “This should do the trick. OK, ready to push on the next contraction?”

~~~

29 June 2019, 02:51am

“OK, the head is here, just one more push!” 

Jungkook is now sitting behind you, his broad chest supporting you and his hands have become your anchor. “You can do it, Noona, she’s almost here.”

He has transformed from a blubbering, nervous delivery partner to your loudest cheerleader. You want to punch and kiss him at the same time.

At the midwife’s signal to push, you push again with all your might. In doing so, you squeeze Jungkook’s hands even harder, and he swallows his yelp, too excited to see your baby soon, and also too scared at the possibility you would shout at him again.

“Shoulders... and there she is!” Dr Choi announces.

You feel a massive relief on your lower abdomen as your baby is born, and you collapse onto Jungkook’s chest, finally letting out all the tears. Congratulations are going all around, but you notice you hear no crying from your baby.

“Jungkook, she’s not crying. She's not crying.” You start to panic.

Jungkook rubs your arms. “The nurses are taking her away to check her Noona.” He says soothingly. “I’m sure Little Miss is fine.”

You continue holding onto his hands tightly, worry and fear now in full swing. Dr Choi returns to his seat before you, and explains in a much calmer tone that he is going to get your placenta out, before sewing the incision that he had to do earlier. 

You start crying into Jungkook’s neck, all you want to do now is hold your baby. You are aware of the risk of giving birth a month earlier than your due date, and you cannot help but think of the worst. Jungkook cradles you, singing to you to calm you down.

A few minutes later, the midwife comes back with your baby loosely wrapped in a swaddle. She eases your worry by telling you that Little Miss has passed all the checks, and despite being premature, she is as healthy as they come. You sob in relief, and you ask Jungkook to continue staying by your side even as the midwife removes your gown for your long awaited skin-to-skin contact with Little Miss.

“Noona, she’s tiny.” Jungkook whispers, eyes hypnotised by the baby on your bosom. 

“How big do you think she’d be, Jungkook?” you tease him between your happy tears. 

“She’ll fit in my palm.” You turn to look at him and smile affectionally as he wipes his tears. “Noona, thank you for letting me be here.”

~~~

29 June 2019, 03:12am

Published 29012021

[searchingwardrobes]

The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 6/11

In different realms, Emma and Killian still think of the other as they search for something to fill in the hole in their hearts.

Yes, Emma and Killian are still separated in this chapter. Before you yell at me, though, this chapter also shows how often they still think of one another. Bear with me, I swear, all of this will make sense later, and I promise a great (steamy) payoff ;)

This chapter also introduces more of our favorite Once characters both in Neverland and the Land Without Magic. Emma does end up in Storybrooke, but I will go ahead and make something abundantly clear: it is an ordinary (albeit quirky) small town in this story. Some of the scenes in the Neverland section may sound familiar to some of you. I have had head canons for ages about Killian’s backstory with the fairies and with Wendy which I explored previously in fics that I have since deleted. They have been resurrected here, which I love because they are now fully fleshed out and in my own au! Anyways, I hope you enjoy my au versions of these characters.

Once again, massive thanks to the mods in the @captainswanbigbang​ fo organizing the CSRT especially @optomisticgirl​ who helped me handle self-doubt and writer’s block. B also was invaluable as a beta and in Discord chats as I tried to figure out how magic would work in this au. My other beta, @shippingtheswann​ whipped this chapter into shape, pointing out sooo many plot holes. Girl, where would I be without you?

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and positive Millian

Words: Almost 6k in this chapter

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 19

The taxi drives off behind her, and Emma startles, grasping the straps of her meager duffel bag tighter as she looks up at the quaint inn before her. The small wooden sign out front swings in the breeze: Granny’s Inn. Behind it, facing the opposite street, is Granny’s diner. The two are attached by a stairwell. Convenient, since Emma will be working there.

She hoists her bag with a deep sigh as she walks up the stone steps leading to the inn. In her jacket pocket is the recommendation letter from her parole officer. She doesn’t think she’ll need it, but she has it at hand just in case.

A bell rings over the door when she enters, and an elderly woman with white hair and bifocals perched on her nose bustles out. With a pang, Emma thinks of Martha so long ago, though this woman has a stern look on her face, almost a scowl, that Martha never would have borne upon her countenance.

“Need a room?” the woman asks, all business.

“Um,” Emma hesitates, fishing the letter out of her pocket. It’s crumpled from the cab ride, and she feels a bit foolish as she holds it out like it’s proof or something. “I’m Emma Swan.”

“Oh!” the woman cries out, flinging both hands in the air as she bustles around the check-in desk. “My apologies. I was expecting you this evening.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think -”

“No trouble at all.” She glances at the paper in Emma’s hand. “I don’t need that, I’d know you from Marco’s description.”

The woman heads for the stairs, gesturing for Emma to follow. The inn is warm and homey, with vintage wallpaper and wall sconces illuminating the stairs. She follows the woman to the second floor and down the hall to room 210.

“This has a view of Main Street,” she tells Emma as she pulls an old fashioned key from her apron pocket and inserts it in the lock. “It’s a suite with a little sitting area and kitchenette, though you’re welcome to take your meals in the diner. On the house, of course.”

Emma’s eyes widen. “Oh, but I couldn’t. It’s your business.”

Granny waves her off. “I know a waitress’s salary isn’t much. How are you ever to get back on your feet if you have to spend every dime just to live? Besides, it was all in the agreement I sent you.”

Emma just nods, still nervously clutching her duffel. She doesn’t want to tell her that she didn’t actually read it. All the fine print and the legal jargon had made her head spin. Marco had said it was the best deal for a girl like her, and how many options did she have, anyway?

“Storybrooke is a nice little town,” Granny says as she pulls the curtains open to let in more light. “The last girl I helped, Ashley, ended up staying. She’s even engaged to a nice young man who works at the cannery.”

Granny comes closer, studying Emma’s face carefully. “Ashley was pregnant when she came. Marco told me you just gave up a baby. I want you to know, I’ve been there. Back in my day, they just shipped me off to a convent and ripped my little boy from my arms. I didn’t even have a say.”

Emma glances away nervously.

“Oh, I know you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve said my piece, and I won’t bring it up again. Just know this is a safe place, and I’ve got your back. And I don’t answer to anything but Granny, okay?”

Before Emma can say anything else, the woman is gone. Emma sinks down on the antique sofa situated in front of the fireplace. She feels out of place, out of sorts. Granny seems nice, and it’s clear she means well, but Emma isn’t staying here. Once she’s saved up enough money, she’s getting as far away from Maine as she possibly can.

Tallahassee still sounds nice.

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

Emma stands in front of the large, mahogany piece of furniture, her dry toothbrush dangling from her lips. It doesn’t look like the one from when she was ten and sixteen: the carvings are far more ornate, and the trim is all wrong, yet her fingers itch to open it and her heart rate picks up just a bit. She’s just about to reach for the little pewter knob when a knock sounds on the door. Emma opens it to find Granny standing there with towels in her arms.

“Thought you might need these tonight,” she says, bustling in without an invitation. “You’re not a guest but an employee, so washing these is your responsibility. The laundry is in the basement. Do you know how to do laundry?”

Emma nods.

“Good. Ashley turned her sheets pink.” Granny says this matter of factly, and Emma stifles a laugh. “Well, I’ll leave you be.”

“Um,” Emma gathers the courage to ask, “this wardrobe . . . “

“Wardrobe?” Granny asks, brow creased in confusion. She sees what Emma is gesturing at, and nods. “Oh, that. It’s not a wardrobe, it’s an entertainment center. Just fits the decor better. There’s a tv behind those doors. A small one, and it’s just the basic cable with fifteen channels or so. Better than nothing, though, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, goodnight.”

Emma’s shoulders fall after Granny leaves. An entertainment center. Nevertheless, she holds her breath when she flings it open.

Nothing but a twenty inch television set, just like Granny had said. It seems even smaller in the large cabinet, and it sits atop a cable box. Emma sighs and closes the doors. What had she expected, anyway?

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

Emma’s feet are sore as she sags against the prep sink and removes her apron. Ruby sees her and laughs in camaraderie.

“The first day is always the toughest,” she encourages.

“I hope so,” Emma groans. She pulls a wad of bills out of her apron pocket and thumbs through it. “I got good tips, though.”

Ruby smiles. “The breakfast crowd is always generous. Lunch? Not so much. Too much take out.”

Emma shoves the cash into the pocket of her jeans. There’s no uniform here, just the matching retro aprons with the pink frilly trim. Ruby is dressed vastly different from Emma in a tiny skirt and a midriff top. Emma wonders if this got the brunette more tips. Not that Emma is going that route, no matter how much she wants to get to Tallahassee.

“Speaking of lunch,” Emma says, “I’m starving.”

“Take a seat out there, and I’ll bring you something.”

“Grilled cheese and onion rings with a Coke?”

Ruby winks. “Coming right up!”

Emma heads for one of the smaller, two seater booths in the back near the jukebox, not wanting to take up room needed for real customers. She still feels a bit guilty taking food from Granny’s business. Of course, Ruby is Granny’s actual granddaughter, and she didn’t bat an eye at Emma’s “order.” She’ll just have to try and get used to generosity, she supposes.

Emma’s surprised when Ruby comes out almost immediately, but it isn’t her lunch on the waitress’s tray. With a flourish, she sets a mug of hot cocoa down in front of Emma. It’s even topped with Emma’s favorite: whipped cream and cinnamon.

“From a secret admirer,” Ruby chuckles with a roll of her eyes.

Emma frowns down at the beverage, and then her eyes flash as the cop she’d served at the bar earlier walks over. She’d recommended the whipped cream and cinnamon, telling him it was her personal favorite. The pervert! He stops at her booth and opens his mouth, but before he can speak, she lifts the mug and flings the cocoa right at him. It wets the front of his dress blues and drips from the badge at his hip. He glances down in shock at the front of him then back up at her.

“You do know I’m nineteen, right?” she snaps. “I may not have the most spotless past, but I’m not an easy score.”

The cop calmly grabs some napkins and pats at the stain on his shirt. “I agree one hundred percent,” he says, focusing on his shirt and not her. “I’m a thirty-two year old man. However, that creep Walsh Oaken over there is thirty-six and likes to sniff around Granny’s girls. I wanted to warn you.”

Emma’s brow furrows in confusion as she studies the cop, then looks over his shoulder at a skinny man who’s also perched on a stool at the bar. He winks at her, and Emma’s face turns red.

“Uh, you mean that guy at the bar? The one who’s been sitting two stools down from you since you came in?” Emma attempts a wry grin at the cop.

He chuckles, and Emma thinks that his eyes look kind, though also sad. The creep Walsh obviously overheard her conversation with the cop, and she suddenly wants to crawl under the table.

“Graham Humbert, sheriff of Storybrooke,” he tells her, extending his hand.

“Oh God,” Emma groans, “the sheriff?”

He laughs again. “It’s okay. I admire your spunk. Guys like Walsh obviously have no hope of taking advantage of you.”

“Ew,” Emma says, her nose wrinkling, “he’s gross and old.”

“I’ll overlook the old comment,” he tells her, “since he and I are too old for you.”

“Hello, Graham,” Ruby purrs as she sidles up with Emma’s plate of food. The sheriff’s eyes light up, and Emma is surprised when Ruby, over the top flirt, actually blushes.

“Hello, Ruby.” He replies, and Emma almost laughs at the way the man’s voice hikes up an octave. He clears his throat nervously, then says, “Well, duty calls, ladies. I’ll see you tonight, Ruby?”

“You know it,” the brunette tells him with a wink.

Ruby watches him go, and the sheriff even glances back in the doorway. Emma takes in the exchange with growing humor. When Ruby turns back around, Emma arches both brows at her.

“What?”

“You and the sheriff?”

“Shhh,” Ruby admonishes, waving at Emma, “not so loud, my Granny doesn’t know about us yet.”

“Why would she care? He seems like a nice guy. And you’re old enough for him.” Now that she knows he isn’t a pervert, Emma can acknowledge the man is attractive. She has eyes, after all.

Ruby shrugs. “Well, he lives here in the inn. Granny likes that he does, says he makes her feel safe, especially with the girls she takes in. If she found out I was sleeping with him . . . “

“Oh come on, Ruby, Granny seems more understanding than that.”

“Maybe,” Ruby gives Emma a sly grin, “but there’s also something thrilling about sneaking around.”

Emma rolls her eyes.

Ruby waggles her eyebrows. “Enjoy your lunch.”

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

The envelope is fat with bills and Emma smiles at the heft of it before she slips it beneath the panties in her underwear drawer. Not the most original of hiding places, but it works. Granny offered to take her to Storybrooke Savings & Loan to help her open an account, but Emma had declined. It’s too permanent, for one, like making a commitment to this quirky little town. But Emma also knows that plastic can be traced, and she has no desire to be found.

Or does she?

The pop and boom of fireworks shatters the silence of her room, and it's followed by a chorus of oohs from the families gathered below in the streets of Storybrooke. Emma merely crosses the room to draw her drapes closed before plopping down on her bed and turning on the tv. Fourth of July celebrations are playing on almost every station, but the last thing she wants to look at are families in the crowds with wide eyed children balanced on their hips. She could walk downstairs and out the door for that.

After she flips through the main four stations and PBS, she finally finds movies instead of fireworks. She’s not surprised by her options: Independence Day (naturally), Top Gun (of course), and a western she’s never heard of before. What’s more American than a western, right?

She settles for Top Gun, though she’s seen it so many times she can quote it by heart, wriggling beneath the covers and propping the pillows behind her head. Ruby had ragged her about living like an old woman, Granny had given her a reprimanding glare over her bifocals, and Graham had gently asked why she insisted on hiding. She supposes he’s right - she is hiding, but it’s for the best. This is merely a stop on her journey, and it’s best for everyone if she doesn’t get too attached.

She may live like an old lady, she won’t deny it, but Emma is still only nineteen years old. Going to sleep when even toddlers are gazing in wonder at fireworks is something Emma finds physically impossible, and by the time the smoke fades from the harbor, she’s antsy and slightly claustrophobic. She crosses to the window and sees the crowd slowly dispersing but not in any hurry to get home. She lets the curtain fall back into place and plops back down to watch Maverick and Goose for a bit longer. Once the credits roll, Main Street is finally empty, the few remaining revelers having headed down to the Rabbit Hole for drinks. Emma grabs a light sweater that’s draped over her desk chair and heads quietly downstairs.

This isn’t the first time she’s made her way through the quiet streets and headed to the docks. It’s one of the things she’ll miss when she leaves because Neal had been wrong. Emma looked it up - Tallahassee isn’t on the coast of Florida. The nearest beach will be over an hour’s drive away.

Emma sighs as she reaches the boardwalk, wrapping her sweater tighter around herself as a cool breeze sweeps across the water. She leans against the railing, looking out at the barges from which they’d shot off the fireworks. She can hear faint shouts from the crew as they clean up from the festivities. She glances over to her left and sees a sailing ship bobbing in the water where it’s tied to the dock. She thinks of a boy from years ago with sea-chapped lips, messy hair that smelled faintly of salt water, and bright blue eyes.

Three years ago, that’s when she saw that boy last. Has he changed as much as she has? Emma crosses her arms upon the wood railing and bends over to rest her chin atop them. As she often does when she comes here, she thinks of the first boy she really kissed and wonders if he’s still sailing the ocean. Maybe he’s a lieutenant now, like he had hoped. Maybe he has a nice, sweet girl who waits for him at the end of each voyage.

Emma isn’t sure why she entertains these fantasies of a boy she knew so briefly. Perhaps because it’s better than other places her thoughts could wander.

Only when her eyelids begin to droop and goosebumps rise on her arms does she leave the docks. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a penny. She holds the copper to her lips and whispers “Tallahassee.” Why she needs to get there so badly, she can’t even say. Nevertheless, she says it like a promise before tossing the penny into the waves.

Killian: Age 19

“Bloody fairies,” Killian mutters as he makes his way deeper into the thick jungle. Tiger Lily and Tink just had to bring up Milah and the need to avenge her death.

He stops at another thick tree truck; the only ones on the island that grow so large and tall. As the fairies had instructed, he slashes his hook across the smooth bark. He leans close on bated breath, and within minutes he has his answer: thick, black viscous liquid seeps from the tree. Hook retrieves a piece of parchment and a stub of charcoal from his duster pocket and makes a mark. So far, he’s counted two dozen dead pixie dust trees like this one and only half a dozen that are still producing.

Half an hour later, sweat is trickling down his back as he hacks his way through the dense bush. Suddenly, Killian spins, his hook at the ready as someone or something comes crashing through the jungle foliage to his right. He takes cover behind another thick pixie dust tree and waits. Pan’s crew are breaking in a new lost boy, most likely. Killian is shocked when it’s a girl, not a boy, who stumbles into the small clearing near his hiding place. Her blonde curls are a matted mess filled with bits of leaves and bracken, and her white gown is tattered and stained. As she scrambles to her feet, the moonlight hits her face, and Killian can make out the sheen of tears. Her blonde hair reminds him of Emma so long ago, and he can scarcely breathe for a moment. Then he blinks, his eyes clear, and he obviously sees that this girl’s hair is darker than Emma’s was.

Killian is so distracted by this strange turn of events, he doesn’t even hear the lost boys coming. They have the girl surrounded before Killian can get a bearing on the situation. The girl spins in a circle, frantically searching for an opening of escape, chest heaving in panic.

Félix stalks towards her, smacking his club repeatedly into his open palm. A phantom pain throbs where Killian’s hand used to be as the urge to pummel Félix with both fists surges through him.

“Wendy, Wendy, Wendy.”

“Please,” the girl begs, “just leave me alone.”

What happens next is a blur of white hot rage. The boys advance, Wendy is on the ground screaming, and Killian is suddenly in their midst, flinging lost boys right and left. Félix has Wendy on the ground by the throat, and Killian turns on him next.

“Run!” Killian yells, but Wendy simply stares at him with wide eyes, trembling as she curls herself into a ball. An image of a nine year old boy, cowering behind the barrels in a ship’s hold, swim up in Killian’s memory.

Félix stalks towards him, the rest of the lost boys regrouping at his back. “She’s a little young for you, don’t you think, Captain?”

That’s all it takes to send Killian over the edge. He swings with his hook, slicing down the side of Félix’s face. The young teen howls in pain, and stumbles backwards, blood gushing from his wound. The other lost boys falter as Félix stumbles to the ground, then turn and flee. Wendy has backed herself against a tree, still cowering in fear. Growling in frustration, Killian hauls her to her feet and commands her to run. When she makes no move to obey, he plunges into the jungle, hauling her along with him.

A few moments later, Wendy comes to herself and begins struggling in his grasp. “Let me go!”

He stops, turns, and snaps at her in frustration, “I’m trying to help you!” He gives her a small shake, but stops when he sees the terror in her eyes. He looks down at his hook, still dripping with Félix’s blood. He suddenly realizes what he must look like to her. Trembling slightly, he drops her arm and steps away from her. He points towards a faint trail to his left. “There’s a fairy nearby. Her tree house is that way. It’s hidden from the lost boys. You’ll be safe there.”

Wendy narrows her eyes. “You’re . . . saving me?”

The sound of lost boys echo through the jungle. “Weeeendyyyy! Come out, come out, wherever you are! We only want to play!”

Killian gestures with his hook, “Go!”

Once Wendy is heading for the tree house, Killian takes off in the opposite direction, crying, “Wendy! Run!”

He can hear the lost boys behind him, following him far away from the little lost girl.

The sounds of the lost boys are distant once he stumbles onto the beach where he’s left the dinghy. He hasn’t finished his task with the pixie dust trees, but that will have to wait. The lost boys were never supposed to know he was here.

“Bloody fairies,” he mutters again as he scrambles into the boat.

“Going somewhere, Captain?”

Hook’s blood boils as he turns to find Pan hovering nearby, his arms folded over his chest and his head tilted at a cocky angle. “Do you have a death wish, boy?”

“You can’t kill me,” Pan scoffs, “or you would have by now.”

“I can try!” Killian growls, leaping from the boat and onto the sand.

Predictably, Peter flits about around Hook’s head, but his taunts aren’t what the pirate expects and makes his blood run cold.

“You can’t save them both, Hook.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re old friend Tiger Lily or your new friend Wendy? Which should die today?”

Killian gives a feral yell as he grabs ahold of Pan’s ankle and flings him to the ground. He pins the demon there, his hook to the lad’s throat.

“What game are you playing now?”

Pan smirks, as if cold steel at his jugular is of no consequence. “Wendy was a gift for Felix, and you ruined it.”

“You hate girls.”

“But teenage boys have needs, unfortunately. It was long overdue.”

Killian presses his hook just enough to break some skin. “Wendy is safe, and what do you know of Tiger Lily?”

Peter laughs. “My crew has Tink’s treehouse surrounded. And as for Tiger Lily, well . . . let’s just say I hope she can hold her breath long enough for you to save her. Skull Rock fills up with water when the tide comes in, you know.”

Killian hauls the imp up and tosses him across the sand as he plunges back into the jungle.

“You don’t have time to save them both!” Pan calls after him. “The tide is coming in soon, Hook!”

Killian ignores him as he slashes his way through the thick brush towards Tink’s place. He’s racing so fast to get to the innocent little girl that he doesn’t see the flash of two blond heads coming from the opposite direction. He collides with Tinker Bell with such force, she tumbles to the forest floor, taking Wendy down with her.

“What the bloody hell, Hook, are you trying to kill us!”

“Tink, thank the gods!” Killian exclaims as he hurriedly pulls first Tink and then Wendy to their feet. “Pan said -”

“That the lost boys had found my hideout?” Tink finishes for him. “Yeah, I got that already.”

“Hurry!” Wendy screams when they hear shouts in the jungle behind them.

“Let’s go,” Tink orders, yanking Wendy by the arm down a ravine nearby. Killian brings up the rear, his sword at the ready in case he needs to slow down the enemy. Soon they’re racing along the bed of a trickling stream, and the sounds of the lost boys fade into the distance.

Tink stops in front of a large boulder covered in moss and pushes at a curtain of thick vines to reveal a shallow cave.

“This doesn’t look like much of a hideout,” Killian mutters.

“Do I look dense to you, Hook?” Tink snaps.

Killian arches a brow and tilts his head at the fairy. “Don’t answer that,” Tink mutters, and Wendy giggles. He winks at the child and is pleased when he elicits a blushing smile from her. Tink taps on the back wall of her cave with her wand, and a door appears.

“Bloody fairies,” Killian says for the third time that day, but this time with affection. That makes him think of - “Tiger Lily!” he cries. “Will you two be okay?”

Tink rolls her eyes. “Of course.”

He gives a tremulous smile to them both, then turns back, taking a different route back to the beach from the way they had come.

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

Skull Rock is a hulking menace in the distance, staring at Captain Hook with vacant eyes as he rows across the choppy waters. Rowing isn’t easy with one hand, even with his hook, and he wishes he’d thought to bring one of his crew along today. Of course, he hadn’t expected to be performing a rescue mission.

Killian curses himself, because – once again – he has mucked everything up. Just like with Milah, he has put a friend in danger. He just hopes Tiger Lily forgives him for going to rescue Wendy first. If she lives, that is.

Curse that wretched demon of a boy! His stomach turns remembering the lad’s mocking laughter on the beach.

The tide is rising faster, filling up the cavernous, yawning mouth of Skull Rock. Killian rows harder and swears again as the waves crash against boulders as he draws closer to his destination. Killian’s row boat is almost knocked sideways as he makes his way through the mouth of Skull Rock. There’s Tiger Lily, lifting her chin to call for help. The water splashes into her mouth, and her thick braids float on the surface of the water. Killian abandons the boat; there’s no more time. He dives beneath the waves, kicking his way to where Tiger Lily is tied to a rock. He comes up for air in time to see Tiger Lily’s wide and panicked eyes just as the tide completely closes over her. Killian inhales deeply and dives back under, hacking at the thick rope with his hook. Finally, it breaks free.

Killian grabs Tiger Lily around the waist and kicks upward. When they surface, they both gasp for air. The waves are beating harder, sending the row boat farther away from them. If they don’t catch up to it soon, water will completely fill the cavern, and they’ll both drown. Tiger Lily doesn’t need any instruction; she kicks her legs and swims alongside him. When they reach the side of the boat, Killian pushes her inside, then shoves the row boat through the opening of Skull Rock that has become the narrowest of exits. Killian dives under to follow the boat.

He swims with long strokes as far as he can, hoping he has cleared the rocks. When he breaks the surface, gasping for air, he’s relieved to find himself in the open air. A hand reaches down, and Tiger Lily hauls him over and into the boat. He barely has time to catch a breath before her hand connects with his cheek. The sound of her slap echoes across the water.

“What the bloody hell was that for?” he shouts.

“Hook, you are a dirty pirate, and I never want to speak to you again.” She yells, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What did I do? Pan was the one who tied you up in there!”

Tiger Lily glares at him, her arms still crossed. “And the only reason he found me was because YOU told him where I was!”

“Why the bloody hell would I do that?”

Tiger Lily deflates slightly, her brow furrowed. “In exchange for some of your crew.”

Killian arches a brow. “And you believed him?”

“Well, I . . . “

“I would have been here sooner, but I had to rescue Wendy.”

Tiger Lily shakes her head, even more confused. “Wendy?”

“A girl Pan had his shadow bring to the island. To . . . entertain his teenage crew.” Killian can barely get the words out.

“Pan hates girls, and he’s never cared . . . unless . . . “

Killian’s eyes widen. “Unless Wendy is bait.” He thinks of Mason and Felix telling Pan that he didn’t have the mark. “He’s looking for someone specific. He’s looking for -”

“A little boy,” Tiger Lily finishes for him, “very young.”

“But why tie you up in Skull Rock?”

Tiger Lily’s eyes widen as she takes up the oars. “A distraction. Where is your crew?”

Killian shakes his head as he too takes up the oars. “The ship is docked in Pirate’s Cove while I’m gone.”

“Exactly. No pirates to rescue lost boys from the shadow. Does Wendy have any brothers?”

Killian scowls. “I’m guessing the answer to that is yes.”

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

“Don’t they ever sleep?” Tiger Lily mutters from their hiding place behind a large rock. In the clearing, the Lost Boys are hunched around the blazing campfire, dipping spears and arrowheads into the sticky black sap of dreamshade.

Killian arches a brow at Tiger Lily. “Not much. Not without a mother.”

Tiger Lily tilts her head in confusion. “What?”

He shakes his head and mutters, “Never mind.”

The fairy crouches lower and tightens her hold on her bow as she draws closer to Pan’s camp on soft feet. Killian follows her, his palm sweating as he grips the hilt of his sword.

“They’re preparing for battle,” Kilian hisses to his companion.

“But why?”

Killian doesn’t reply; he’s too distracted by the rustling in the branches above them. He scowls when Tink drops to the forest floor beside him.

“Bloody hell, can you warn me before you drop out of the sky like that?”

“Tink,” Tiger Lily admonishes, “there isn’t enough pixie dust left for you to flit around like that!”

“Shut up both of you, and listen to me! I had to fly here, it was an emergency. Wendy is gone!”

“What do you mean she’s gone? ” Killian snaps. “I left you not an hour ago!”

“She was dirty and covered in scrapes, so we went to the stream for water. She swore she heard her little brother crying. I turned around for a second, I swear -”

“Shit,” Killian mutters, “it’s not a battle they’re preparing -”

“-it’s a hunt,” Tiger Lily finishes for him.

The three of them split up, knowing that covering more ground is the only hope for Wendy and her brother. His heart pounds in his chest as he makes his way up Dead Man’s Peak, thoughts of his brother swimming up from the dark recesses of his mind. He can’t let Wendy lose hers. He pauses for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a long, slow breath. Barreling around won’t help the children; he needs to focus.

Holding his hook aloft and using his sword to push aside the foliage, he continues his search. He wishes he had a lantern, but the risk of drawing the Lost Boys’ attention was too great. Thankfully, the moon is full tonight, and its light bathes the ground more and more as he ascends the peak, the foliage becoming sparser. His eyes scan the meager sized clumps of bushes, hoping for a glimpse of Wendy’s white nightgown.

Yet it’s a pair of green eyes that halts his steps. For a moment, his heart slams against his ribcage. The shade is so similar to Emma’s from long ago. As his gaze lands on those green eyes, they widen and he hears a small gasp. The bush from whence the sound came rustles, and he recognizes Wendy’s voice as she whispers, “hush!”

Killian sheathes his sword and lowers himself to his knees, not wanting to startle the children. “Wendy,” he hisses.

“Hook?” she asks in a wobbly voice.

“Yes, it’s me,” he says gently, easing around the bush. It grows right up against a wall of rock, and beyond it he hears the gurgling of Rainbow Falls. He pushes aside the foliage shielding the children, and the moonlight falls across them both. Wendy has her arms around a little boy of about four. For a moment, he looks up at Killian with wide, light green eyes, but then he shudders and buries his face against his sister’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Michael, the pirate is our friend.”

“Come, children, quickly. The Lost Boys are on the hunt for you.”

“They don’t want me,” Michael says hoarsely, peeking out at Hook again. “I’m too little, and I don’t have marks.”

Killian’s brow furrows. “Marks?”

“Here,” Michael says, holding out his arm.

Killian blinks, thinking back to Felix yanking at Mason’s arm a year ago. He doesn’t have the mark. Yet he has no time at present to contemplate it further as the shouts of the Lost Boys echo from the canyon below. Killian reaches for the children, urging them to hurry, but he stills when he sees a large palm leaf resting near Wendy’s knee. Water shimmers in the center of it, reflecting the moonlight.

“Where did you get this?” he asks Wendy.

“From the falls,” she tells him, “we were thirsty.”

“You drank from Rainbow Falls?” he asks, his heart plummeting to his stomach.

Wendy tilts her head. “Yes, of course. Why?”

Killian puts on a brave smile as he scoops up Michael. “No time for that now. Let’s get you back to the fairy’s cave.”

“I want to go home,” Michael whimpers as he clutches the edges of Killian’s coat.

“Hook will help us,” Wendy says with so much faith, that it makes Killian want to weep.

He says nothing in reply. He doesn’t have the heart to tell them that they doomed themselves the minute they drank from Rainbow Falls. They will never be able to leave the island.

Tagging:   @snowbellewells  @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @bethacaciakay @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @courtorderedcake @branlovestowrite @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ekr032-blog-blog @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd @spartanguard @shireness-says @scientificapricot​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @superchocovian​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @snidgetsafan​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @nikkiemms​@delirious-latenight-laughs​

[chocochar]

ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ? | ᴅᴀʙɪ/ᴛᴏᴜʏᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ 5: ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ᴅᴀʏ 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Valentine’s Special | Part 6: TBA

(AN: Sorry this took a few days, life kicked me in the backside but hey new part!

Part 6 may come by tomorrow or Sunday, depends, but as I've (I think??) mentioned before I have this fairly planned out already so updates I'm going to try to stay up on! ouo 

A warning, I've said before too that this doesn't fully follow canon, like... Very much at all. XD So I'm sorry if things are different from anything canon, it's going to start deriving from canon in a few parts from now so this a quick warning about that. But this fic has a happy end, I've already planned out! 

Anyways, enough of my rambling, let's hop in yeah?)

[(F/n)'s POV]

        I have so many thoughts running through my mind about all of this. Already my brain was wrapped about Touya turning up and finding out who he became, but now thinking about him helping Kaoru train with me supervising... I don't know why my head won't stop running in circles around these thoughts.

        Driving to the training area I park, getting out with Kaoru whose arms hold a back pack, and I smile at my friend and work colleague, Ira-san whose hand I shake as I say,"Hey, thank you so much for this, Ira-san, it really means a lot."

        "No problem, no problem, y'know I'm always here to help you and this little guy," the older woman grins, ruffling Kaoru's crimson locks. He blushes in embarrassment but doesn't stop her, scratching his cheek. "Just head on in, I'm gonna head out since I have some cases to go over, so here." She hands me the keys, adding,"Please lock up when you leave. Oh, you mentioned that Todoroki kid was coming right?"

        "Not anymore, he, uh, got busy, so it'll just be me and Kaoru unless he shows up," I lie, my son glancing at me but not saying anything since he seems to understand why. Ira-san shrugs and holds up a thumbs up, giving Kaoru a tight hug before waving as she leaves. I wait for her car to drive off before turning to look at the training area. It isn't glamorous like some UA would have but I've seen inside, it works just as well. It's a large building, windows making up the roof although they're nearly impossible to see through, and the walls made up of metal plating. The area around the property is quite nice, and walking up to the door I hold it open for Kaoru before walking inside after him. The inside you walk right into the training area, which looks bigger inside than out; the floors and walls are matted, there are a few doors that hold an array of equipment to the left while to the right one door that takes you too a break room and a locker area. Next to the right door are buttons, most likely that bring out dummies, or possibly switch things in the room around.

        Telling Kaoru to go change into the training clothes he brought I head off to the back of the training room where another door is that leads to the back of the propety, where more training grounds are set up. I knock 3 times and wait, and when I hear 3 back I unlock and open the door, stepping back as Dabi steps in, dressed in a hoodie, instead of his coat along with a mask and sunglasses to hide his face. He lowers the mask and takes off the glasses to look at me.

        "I'm guessing your disguise worked?" I ask, shutting the door as he starts to take hoodie off too. I look away when his shirt raises as he does this, scratching my hot cheek and trying to pretend I didn't see his rather lean, scarred up torso.

        "A few people looked but I'm here, aren't I?" he replies, starting to walk over to the front of the area, his cerulean orbs taking everything in. 

        "True, Kaoru will be happy to see you," I say, walking beside him.

        "What about you?"

        "Huh?" I cock a brow, looking up at him puzzled and stopping when he does. He tilts his head slightly, his aloof expression never changing, as he asks,"Are you happy to see me?" I'm a bit taken back by this and my cheeks start to turn more red, coughing and averting my eyes while scratching the back of my head.

        "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" I say, before shaking my head and looking at him again, trying to hide the fact he flustered me a little there. "B-But only because of Kaoru getting help!" Judging by the twitch of the corners of his mouth I don't think he bought it completely, even if that is at least half the reason I'm glad he made it. He won't stop staring at me and I turn away, gesturing him to follow me as I say,"Anyways, I'll show you where everything is."

        My stupid heart won't shut up, which doesn't make any of this any better. While my brain keeps screaming at me reminding me he's a villain, a big time one, my heart seems to not care much about that; I... I can't still love him now, right? 10 years is a long time, but apparently not long enough to forget about the feelings you shared for someone, especially with all the other factors staring at you in the face.

        I gasp as I trip over a mat with the corner sticking out while so lost in my thoughts, and as I go to fall forward I feel an arm quickly wrap around my waist and I'm pulled back; my back presses against a bigger body, my eyes peering down noting the scarred up, stapled arm and hand looped around me, and I can feel the light air of his breath brushing my hair and ear. His grip doesn't loosen, and I can feel his intense gaze boring into me, and cautiously I bring my hands down to lightly touch his arm to finally feel the scars. It's definitely a strange sensation, the dry, cracked feeling of his incredibly sensitive skin, but I freeze realizing what I'm doing. Realizing the situation we're in. And my (eye color) eyes lift as I raise my head to find his face is close to mine and my heart starts thundering in my ears as for a split second... the scars disappear and his hair is red again and he looks just like Touya again from my memory. I have an idea flash through my mind, the urge to touch his face and even brush my lips on his, but it's gone as soon as it comes.

        His eyes leave mine to look up as the door leading to the break room and lockers opens and he lets me go, saying,"Be more careful." He starts walking over to Kaoru, whose eyes light up and he runs over excitedly to Dabi, while I stand there frozen in place. I bring my hand to my chest, my heart won't stop pounding and I take a deep breath in hopes of calming myself.

        I can't seem to wrap my head around what happened, or why he almost looked like he held... regret in his eyes.

[X][X][X]

        I watch the boys begin their training from my seat on a bench by the front doors, and it starts with Dabi saying,"Okay, show me what you can do right now."

        Kaoru swallows and turns away, taking a deep breath and lifting his hands. Immediately a force field starts growing directly in front of him; what stands out from my own are the obvious blue flames licking over the outside of it, and as he focuses on it it suddenly grows and he gasps, his hands now pressed against the outside. And he whimpers as his hands start getting burned, but he can't seem to stop it, like his mind has gone blank with him both trying to control it and endure the pain. I don't even have the chance to tell him to calm down as Dabi beats me to it, saying,"Kaoru, look at me."

        The moment he does Kaoru jolts and turns his head to meet his dad's eyes, clearly scared, but the force field immediately disappears. He looks surprised, although his hands hold burns already, but Dabi walks over to him and kneels, asking,"You looked kind of dazed there, was it hard finding the control over it?" Kaoru stares at his hands, nodding, meeting his dad's matching eyes.

        "Yeah, I get nervous whenever I get ready to use it so I think I panic when it starts to get bigger," my boy admits, scratching behind his head. Dabi doesn't say anything right away, looking around the room before his cerulean gaze returns to his 'mini me'.

        "Can you only do them close to you or can you make them further away?"

        "I-I don't think I've ever tried making any that were far away from me, maybe once but that's it," Kaoru admits, Dabi standing and his eyes trailing around the room again before he points to the right at a mat a few feet away from the two.

        "Focus your attention on that spot and try making one there," Dabi tells him, Kaoru looking confused.

        "Bu-But what if I can't?"

        "I'm guessing part of your ability to make them deals with concentrating on them, right? When you focus on a spot or someone you can probably make one where they're at, so just stare at that spot, forget that your mom and I are here, and make one even if it's small."

        Kaoru looks very wary about this, we tried once to train him a little to do that, but things didn't go well and Kaoru I think remembers this. Turning his attention to the mat Dabi was telling him to focus on he takes a deep breath again and stares at it. I stay as quiet as possible, same with Dabi, and slowly Kaoru raises one hand with the palm up; the force field he makes isn't huge, or even remotely big, but it does grow on the spot and I'm surprised at how much control he's in. 

        Dabi nods and taps his arm, Kaoru blinking out of it and lowering his hand, his eyes widening and the child looking shocked. Once he processes what just happened he grins wide and first looks at Dabi, exclaiming,"I, I did it!! I did it, a-and I wasn't even scared!!" before turning to me and asking,"Did you see, mom?"

        I smile and nod, excited for him as I say,"I did, dad's a good teacher, huh?"

        Kaoru nods before turning back to Dabi. The man still has his aloof expression but from where I'm sitting I see his eyes soften. I'm pretty sure by now I'm not just seeing things, right? 

        "Good job, 'mini me', now, let's go for something bigger," he tells Kaoru, who seems to not look bothered by the nickname and agrees, already in position to go again.

        An hour passes and the two have kept at it, Dabi showing example with his own fire how to stay in control and telling Kaoru where to make force fields as well as to imagine the size in his head (which works, Kaoru seems to have started figuring out how to make them bigger right off the bat without first going from small and growing it). Right now he can only do one, which is totally fine, as long as he can control just the one, and after another hour or two passes the two decide to call it a day since Kaoru is looking tired. Standing I make my way over to Dabi while our son goes to change, although I hesitate after what happened earlier. I tell my heart to cut it out in my head while my voice says,"That went fantastic, you're a pretty good teacher, you know that?"

        He cocks a brow and shrugs, running his fingers through his raven locks, responding,"I had my fair share of 'training', remember?"

        "True, but you were actually calm and even pretty patient with him," I counter, crossing my arms looking up at him. I smile, adding,"He learned quite a bit though with this alone, thank you, Tou-" I abruptly stop, clearing my throat.

        "... It's fine," he responds as I go to fix my slip.

        "What is?" I ask him, puzzled.

        "Calling me Touya, I guess if it's you... It's fine," he tells me, and my face slightly heats up. I nod, meeting his eyes and continuing,"Then thank you, Touya." It's weird, the feeling of that name slipping off my lips. It's been a long time since I've said it without feeling empty or sad. Instead I'm smiling warmly, and Dabi averts his gaze, turning his head away and rubbing his neck. If I didn't know him any better I'd say I caught pink dusting his cheeks, and when I try to look he keeps turning away.

        "Do you not like me saying your name, Touya?" I ask in a false innocent way, teasing him.

        "No, it's fine, so shut up and go get Kaoru," He snaps, a snicker I couldn't hold back escaping at how snippy he got all of a sudden.

        "Okay, Touya." I turn and go to Kaoru who walks out, who proceeds to ask,"Why is dad looking at you like that?"

        "He's just a grump," I answer, able to feel the glare digging holes into my back. "Anyways, you look pretty tired, you ready to go home?" He nods without hesitating, yawning and looking ready to lay down right there and sleep. Dabi comes over, already dressed in the hoodie, sunglasses, and mask, and kneeling he tells Kaoru,"Hop on my back."

        Kaoru, who doesn't look to think much about it, does as told and wrapping his arms around his dad's neck he hops onto the ravenette who wraps his arms under our son's legs and hoists him onto his back. He stands, ready to follow me out, but I quickly take a picture of the two together.

        "... What are you doing?"

        "Don't worry, you're disguised, it was too cute an opportunity to pass up," I grin, feeling his eyes narrow even if I can't see it, and turning I lead the way out. Making sure lock everything up I open the back car so Dabi can stick Kaoru in on the seat, the little red head having fallen asleep already. Shutting the door he faces me, and averting my gaze thinking about it I figure it won't hurt... For now, I'm still thinking things over. "Do you want to come back with us? I'm going to make lunch once Kaoru wakes back up since it's still early."

        He takes a minute to answer, I guess thinking about it, before saying,"I've got nothing else going on so I guess." 

        Getting in the car we start the drive back home.

[X][X][X]

        The drive back is fine, and passing the market I go and park, telling Dabi,"I'll be back in 5 minutes, just want to grab a couple things for lunch alright?" He shrugs, and heading in I start my shopping.

        The last thing I expect is to run into Natsuo, who calls,"(FFFF/nnnn)!" I turn surprised to see the college student running up to me, my normal response being a big grin and hugging him, but with what's been going on for some reason I feel like a deer caught in the headlights. It's not like he's aware of who's out in my car, so why I froze up I don't know. Luckily he doesn't notice, a regular big smile planted on his face and a basket of groceries looped on his arm. "Funny seeing you here, I was wondering if you shopped here!"

        "Huh? Oh, yeah, it's really close to my apartment, remember? I'm just down the street," I tell him, pointing the direction where my street is located. "What are you doing here?"

                "Fuyumi beat me at a game of rock, paper, scissors so I was the one sent to get groceries for dinner tonight. He'll be gone tonight and she invited me and Shouto home again, with him out on hero work tonight I took the chance. She said the one by your place has the freshest stuff so I kind of picked this one by chance, guess it paid off," he chuckles, scratching the back of his head. 

        "Yeah, this place is definitely one of the best when it comes to fresh produce," I say, for some reason still feeling weird. I shouldn't, or maybe it's guilt? That I know something very important he doesn't? 

        The two of us decide to stick together shopping, and when done I go to part ways but he asks,"Is chibi with you?" I nearly lie, the risk of him finding out really big, but given Dabi is disguised I could play things off.

        "Yeah, he's in the car sleeping, we just did some training so he's tired," I explain, the two of us heading for my car; my stomach feels like it's in knots with every step. What if Natsuo finds out? He's not an idiot, what if he sees through the disguise and finds out there's a villain in my car? 'Just act natural, (F/n), stay calm.' I manage to keep myself in check as well as trying not to consider the worst case scenarios.

        "Oh, did Shouto help him? Fuyumi mentioned something like that," He asks, looking curious. 

        "N-No, a friend of mine did," I tell him. "He learned quite a lot, though, he's now able to control it better." When we reach the car I put the bags in the back with Kaoru before waking the boy up. "Kaoru, Natsu-oji wants to say hi."

        I blinks his eyes open before sitting up, yawning but perking at seeing his uncle, who looks just as excited, saying,"Hey chibi, you look beat! Your mom just told me you got some training, is that right?"

        The moment I get into the driver's seat I can see how tense Dabi is, even though his disguise hides his emotions; I mouth,'Sorry, I ran into him.' and glance back at the two as they chat, Kaoru telling him about the way he used his quirk. Before he can say anymore, just in case, I say,"Yeah, he did really well! My friend... Yu really helped him out." I think of a fake name for Dabi, and Natsuo glances in past me at the male sitting beside me.

        "Wow, really?" the snowy haired student asks, smiling. I hide how stiff I feel well, as does Dabi, but I freeze when I see Natsuo slightly narrow his eyes and the smile drop. I can't tell if it's because of the disguise and how sketchy it kind of looks, or the two more troubling options: He can tell it's the League of Villains' Dabi, or he's wondering if it's Touya. The latter is the least likely, but he seems to be studying the other man. 

        Thinking fast I say,"He, uh, he has incredibly sensitive skin, can't go in the sun without covering up, y'know?" I look at Dabi for some sort of response and he nods, lowering his head more to hide his face more so than before. 

        "Huh, really? Well that's not good," Natsuo replies, and while he seems to believe us I can't help thinking he's not fully bought over.

        "Yeah. Um, well we better get going, Natsuo, tell everyone I said 'hi' and we'll come visit soon," I say as I start up my car.

        "Bye, Natsu-oji! Don't forget about my manga you borrowed!" Kaoru says from the back, Natsuo grinning and replying,"I know, I know, I didn't forget don't worry! I'm only like halfway done though!" He turns back to me and 'Yu' and adds,"Have a good day, you two, I'll see you all later."

        I say goodbye with a smile while Dabi nods, giving a small wave as we start to leave. Pulling out of the parking lot and reaching a red light after some driving I glance at Dabi, and I can tell he's still stiff. It was probably one of the last things he wanted, getting nearly exposed to his brother, and we luckily dodged that bullet, but he still seems to not be paying much attention too lost in thought. I decide to do something to try to calm him down; moving my hand over I gently rest it on his bigger one and I give it a light squeeze. His hand jolts and he turns his head my way suddenly. 

        "I remembered doing this a lot back then, letting you hold my hand or hug me when something was bothering you, so after seeing Natsuo, if you need it you can hold my hand if it'll help you calm down," I explain, noting he was just sitting there, maybe trying to process it. Even before we got together, when we became really good friends I'd do this and hold him when he was stressed or just all in all having a bad time. But maybe now he may not be okay with that... I start to remove my hand, saying,"I-If you'd prefer not to then it's okay-" But I close my mouth when his hand suddenly latches onto mine and squeezes it, my eyes glancing at him surprised; the hold is strong and tight, it hurts a little but I don't try to stop it, instead continuing to drive and only pulling my hand away when needed.

(AN: I'm trying to slip in those Dabi x (F/n) moments subtly for now, they'll get more frequent as the fic goes on along with more father son bonding moments! ouo 

I hope you guys are enjoying this so far, part 6 should be up within a few days ( *’ω’* ) 

Let me know what you think? Thank you to everyone reading!)

[bd-wan]

A Jedi’s Compassion (Pt. 1)

Cal Kestis x Female Reader

((gif made by the talented @boganodawns​, posted here on their blog))

Word count: 1,225

Summary: Cal is working with the rebels, scouting out a possible location for a new base when he stumbles into another force sensitive’s quest.

Notes: This is a short fic I’m working on, shouldn’t be more than a few parts (I’ll update each post with links to the previous/next parts). This part is just a hook and (Y/N) won’t be introduced until the next part, but I still hope y’all enjoy this! Fluff and angst will ensue, no warnings :)

***

Cal had thought the heat and the humidity wouldn’t get to him, but by mid-afternoon he could hardly handle the tropical climate of the planet he was exploring for the rebels. It reminded him of Kashyyyk almost, with overwhelming green flora and a constant layer of sweat on his skin. There were less Wookies, though, which was a downgrade.

His mission was to scout the area to see if any land could be purchased for the rebels to use for food production. They needed a port in this system to gather and ship supplies out to their other bases in order to become less dependent on aid from allies. Some mid-system planets were already limiting their aid to the rebels to quell imperial suspicions. 

So far, Cal had gathered that the imperial presence on this planet was minimal. An administrator at the shipyard where the Mantis was currently parked had informed the crew of the planet’s status as an important port of this system’s ruling empire. This had been news to Cal, who up until now only knew of the galactic empire lead by Emperor Palpatine.

Cal wondered how any empire could be good, if there was any way to justify taking away the voice of the people and trusting a dynasty to care for the common good. It didn’t seem likely, and yet the people here seemed to be happy. There were no signs of the sorrow so often found in those subjugated by the galactic empire. This city was bustling with industry, diverse people, and flowing with exotic goods.

And it’s kriffing hot. BD-1 whirled cautiously from Cal’s shoulder.

“I know, buddy, we’ll both overheat if we don’t get some AC soon.” Cal wiped his brow and scanned the busy street for a refuge.

They ducked into the closest shop, immediately feeling a blast of cool air hit them. As the doors closed behind them, Cal noticed that the shop was dimly lit. His eyes adjusted quickly, and strange objects game into view. A bucket of rocks, dusty old furniture, and display cases filled with valuable bobbles lined the shop and created aisles. It all looked incredibly expensive. These things also gave off an aura that made Cal’s skin crawl. It was like they had been left here on purpose, and probably should remain here.

“Come in,” a raspy voice from the back of the shop called. Cal jumped in surprise and BD-1 beeped nervously, making himself smaller, hiding.

Cal cautiously moved towards where the voice came from, and saw a very old man sitting behind a counter. He looked like he was made entirely of wrinkles and had seen more than 100 lifetimes could tell. His eyes were discerning, his jaw set firm, and he had an energy about him that implied acute awareness. He leaned forward with his hands folded neatly on the counter.

“Are you looking for something... particular?” The old man’s eyes flickered to Cal’s hip. The saber rested there, hidden by his poncho. Usually Cal just let it sway free for easy access, but he thought it might be best to keep it covered while in the city. Apparently, he hadn’t done a very good job.

“No, I just thought I’d-“ but he was cut off.

“The girl came yesterday and took it.” The old man’s eyes glinted as he smiled dryly, “She was very persistent. Paid good money too. I wouldn’t have parted for any less than she gave.”

Cal felt seen by this man. There was something off, something beyond what he appeared to be. Cal searched his feelings to know if the force had anything to do with this encounter, and found an instinct to go along with it.

“The girl,” Cal tipped his chin up, taking on a tough-guy demeanor and doing his best to play the part, “is she off-world yet?” He felt like a youngling again, wearing a Jedi master’s robes and playing pretend.

“She told me she might come in for more supplies in the next few days,” the old man’s eyes glinted sharply, “that’s all I know.” Cal didn’t like the way he said supplies.

The old man’s eyes flickered again to Cal’s hip, and they narrowed. He then looked into Cal’s face and seemed to be calculating, searching for something in the young man. He looked away, slightly past Cal, then his eyes turned back to him and he smiled.

“She did have...” he paused and widened his grin, “one of those.” One long, weathered finger pointed to Cal’s saber.

Cal felt like he just took 4 stims at once. Another Jedi? The last person he met from the order was Trilla, and she hadn’t had the chance to exist in a world where they were friends. A weight seemed to drop into his stomach. The more plausible alternative came to mind at the thought of the abandoned padawan. Maybe that’s in then, this girl he’s talking about is an inquisitor. The thought froze his blood, then restarted the adrenaline rush he started to feel. He needed to know more, to know for sure. He couldn’t leave another force sensitive alone to be manipulated by the empire.

“Tell ya what,” the old man must have seen the emotions pass on Cal’s face, “I’ll give you more information in exchange for that little droid. What do ya say?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Cal said quickly in response to BD-1’s nervous whizzing. He squared his shoulders and did his best to look intimidating, “You’ve given me all I need.”

Cal turned hastily to leave, but noticed a shelf behind him with a place absent of dust. He shot the old man a hard look, doing his best to commit to the character, before brushing his fingertips across the padlock. Immediately he felt the force echo.

There was a misty form of the shopkeep opening the lock, behind him stood a hooded figure.

“These things can be dangerous if one has had no experience with them before,” the old man warned, but he had a sickly-sweet tone as he said it.

“I have plenty of experience,” a woman’s voice muttered, her voice was ragged and determined.

“A holocron such as this is-“

The echo faded away.

“Ah, I see I have given you something.” The old man’s voice carried musically to Cal’s ears. Cal looked back again, and saw that he was very amused, like this meeting had meant something to him. It was unsettling, and Cal couldn’t take the dusty oddity shop anymore. He swept out of the store and back into the busy street.

It was evening now, and the sky was a million shades of pink, orange, and purple. Street lights strung across buildings and danced in brilliant bursts of yellow. Below them, the restaurants prepared outdoor seating for the evening meal. Music was carried on the breeze from a street or two off. Slowly, the prickling on the back of Cal’s neck faded and it almost seemed like that disturbing scene had never taken place, like he could forget about it if he wanted to.

But now a new feeling started to take hold, something familiar yet indistinguishable. He felt a tiny tug at his being. A connection. A pull from the force. This couldn’t be ignored, and it wouldn’t lay dormant until it was seen to the end.

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Boston Boys [Part Eight]

Summary:  Sebastian ends up in Aurelie’s trauma bay; Chris is MIA. Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1675 Chapter Warnings: Gun violence, gunshot wound, implied smut.   Square Filled: The entire series (well, bits and pieces of it) will fill my Crossover square for @marvelfluffbingo​​. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

Boston Boys Masterlist

“Dr. Juneau, you’ve been requested in Trauma One.”

Aurelie frowned. She hadn’t been requested by a single patient since the night John had come in to have his cut stitched up. Locking the computer she had been working on, Aurelie left her white coat behind and made way for the trauma bay.

“Adult male, approximately thirty-five. Dropped in the ambulance bay where an incoming rig found him.”

Aurelie took in as much of the information as she could while the nurses and techs hooked the man up to machines and started an IV. When the brief was over, she took a good look at her patient. Covered in blood and shaking, his face was pale and his breathing was labored.

Seb. No wonder he had asked for her. His eyes met hers. They were full of panic. She spotted movement from the arm where the nurse was attempting to start an IV. Seb’s hand was reaching out for Aurelie. She shook her head briefly.

“All right, I want a second IV, I want x-ray, CT. Figure out where this blood is coming from, what kind of injuries we’re looking at. Have a crash cart ready -- not just on standby, but ready. Now, move!”

The already chaotic movement of the team became more energized. Aurelie found the trauma scissors in her pocket and cut off his shirt while a tech cut off his pants.

“Doctor,” one nurse began, catching Aurelie’s attention, “I’ve got two GSW’s, one through-and-through in the left shoulder -- in the back, out the front -- and one still sitting near the diaphragm.”

Aurelie nodded. “All right, cancel CT, I want a mobile in the OR. Switch to oxygen on the gurney, start sedation meds, we’re rolling out now before that bullet moves. This needs to happen fast. Alert surgery.”

She let the team take Seb to the elevator; she jogged behind, texting Chris as she followed.

Seb’s in my trauma room. Wtf happened?! Heading to surgery now. Will keep you updated.

Aurelie was scrubbing out of the operating room when the familiar sounds of a scuffle called her attention to the hallway. If it was loud enough that she could hear and make out the sounds, it was serious. She finished her task and went out to see what was going on.

“Let me see him, you have to let me see him!”

Security was battling the determined mission of a redheaded woman, begging, pleading, demanding she let them see someone. Aurelie knew right away who she wanted to see.

“All right, all right, c’mon. She’s upset, can’t you see that?” Aurelie said sternly, getting between Scarlett and the guards. “Stand down, for fuck’s sake.”

Scarlett allowed Aurelie to help her to a nearby bench, but the guards didn’t go far. Aurelie motioned for them to stay calm, then sat down next to Scarlett.

“We got the stray bullet out. It was close to his diaphragm, so he’s on a ventilator right now so that we can control his breathing and allow the area to heal.”

“But he’s going to be okay?” Scarlett’s eyes were bloodshot from crying, and there was blood all over the front of her. “Aurie, you gotta tell me he’s gonna be okay.”

She hated when people called her Aurie, but this wasn’t the time to point that out. She looked sideways at the guards; one was genuinely not paying attention and the other was purposefully avoiding the personal note in the conversation.

“Barring any complications, he’ll be fine. He’s going to SICU right now, but you’ve got to let them get him settled and resting before you see him, all right? If you promise not to make a scene again, I’ll make sure you get ten minutes with him before you leave.” She held up a hand as Scarlett leaned in to hug her. “But you cannot -- cannot -- let on that you know me. To protect what I do here, I can’t be connected. To anyone.”

“I understand.”

Aurelie stood then, pulling the scrub cap from her head and shoving it in her pocket. No doubt Chris would be here soon -- they needed to talk. Stitching up random criminal lowlifes was one thing. Saving the life of someone she considered another brother was too close to home.

The pounding on Elsa’s apartment door spooked her from a deep sleep. She breathed heavy and fast as she sat up in bed, trying to decipher if the knocking was actually at her door. When the pounding started again and it was at her door, fear gripped her tighter. She just knew the bank robbers were on the other side of the door, ready to finish her off.

“Elsa, open up! It’s me, it’s Chris!”

Breathing a sigh of relief, she scrambled out of bed and went to the front door. She undid the deadbolt and the chain lock before twisting the lock on the knob. She let Chris in and immediately locked the door behind him.

“It’s three in the morning! What the hell is wrong with you? You scared the shit out of me!”

Chris wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him and kissing her roughly. Elsa reacted in kind, going along with it when Chris tugged at her legs, lifting her up off the ground and wrapping her legs around his hips. He pushed them against the nearest open wall, knocking a few picture frames from a shelf in the process. Elsa bucked her hips against him, and that’s when Chris knew he needed to slow things and explain himself.

“I wanted to see you the other day, when you called. I’ve got a lot going on I can’t tell you about right now --”

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and finish what you started.”

Chris grinned and pressed his lips to hers again. Elsa climbed down and pulled him toward her bedroom. She tossed off her nightgown and scooted back on the mattress while Chris tossed his shirt aside and pulled his belt from the loops holding it in place.

A few hours later, they were in the kitchen. Chris was making pancakes in his jeans, and Elsa was sitting on the counter watching in his t-shirt. She was laughing at a joke he made, thinking about how easy it was, being with Chris. There was no pressure to be anyone other than who she wanted to be, who she really was.

“I’m glad you came by,” she said, leaning over the griddle to kiss him.

Chris flipped the last pancake onto a stack with the others and turned off the heat on the stove. “I’m glad you let me in. What I was saying earlier, you know, I got a lot going on. Sometimes, there’s gonna be things I can’t tell you. But, I promise you, there’s no other girls, nothing that’s gonna hurt you. I want to tell you more, but I’ve at least got to tell you that because if I don’t -- if I don’t -- Elsa, I can be myself with you. I need that in my life, more than I can explain. You ground me, you keep me real. I know it hasn’t been that long, but you -- you’re a game-changer. I want to do better because of you.”

For a speech like that, Elsa could forget about the pancakes. She slid off the counter and put her hands on his bare hips. “I was thinking the same about you just now. About how I can be myself with you. It’s … it’s easy, being around you.”

Chris smiled. “Easy, yeah. That’s exactly it.”

Elsa went up on tiptoe to kiss him, effectively erasing the pancakes from his mind as well.

Before Aurelie closed out her shift the next morning, she went up to the surgical care unit to check on Seb. He was still on the ventilator, but holding steady. Scarlett was there too, curled up in a chair with a blanket. Aurelie was as quiet as she could be, but Scarlett was a light sleeper.

“Hey,” she greeted, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Thanks for whatever you said to the nurses. They let me stay all night.”

Aurelie nodded. “How long have you two been …?”

“Together. We’re together. It’s new. I was hung up on Chris for a long time, you know, but Seb never gave up. Guess I finally gave him a chance to show me what he was about and I was all for it.”

“That’s good. He’s been after you since before you and Chris, you know.”

“Really?” Scarlett’s eyes watered over.

“Yeah. Trust me. Sisters know shit.”

Scarlett nodded. “We were at a bar, some guy got mouthy. We made to leave and the guy followed us out, tried to grab me. I can hold my own, but --”

“But Seb wanted to protect you,” Aurelie finished.

“He did. I thought -- I thought he was going to die right there in my arms, you know? All the close calls we’ve had, all the referrals. Some dumbass in a bar was gonna be the one to take him out.”

Aurelie looked down at the gurney, and blue eyes looked back up at her. She motioned for Scarlett to come over. “I think he’s gonna be just fine. You’ve got a lot of years of this asshole ahead of you.”

Scarlett was out of the chair in an instant. She slipped her hand into Seb’s, and his eyes moved from Aurelie’s to hers. Aurelie promised both of them that things were going to be fine; she would send the floor doctor in immediately.

“Hey, real quick -- was Chris upset when he came by?”

Scarlett frowned. “I haven’t seen Chris since he left the shop yesterday.”

“Huh. Okay.”

So no one had heard from him since he went to see Robert the day before. Frowning, and with a million scenarios playing through her head, Aurelie alerted the charge nurse that Seb was awake, then hurriedly gathered her things to get out of there and start looking for her brother.

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