#deal with in that time so i have to seek out other moments to sob-heave about academia and TRULY there is no time in my schedule for THAT

[ephemeral-winter]

not totally sure why a very kind and encouraging email from a friend from my last master's made me cry but will be taking it as a sign that i need to go to therapy more!!!

[caitimetravels]

she's insignificant

chapter 5: he should have stayed on that moon

the umbrella academy x (fem) reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: mentions of blood

masterlist

"there you are!" allison ran up behind luther in the hallway. "i've been looking everywhere for you" 

"what are you still doing here? i thought you were gone" he turned to look at her in surprise.

"no, i was gonna go and then pogo showed me this-" she tried to explain what she had found but luther cut her off with a shake of his head.

"well, listen.. i was wrong about dad's death"

"what?"

"yeah, i was wrong about y/n, you know, to accuse my own sister of that- it's just-"

"no, no, i get it-"

"seeing all of you and being back here. i-i should be the one who's trying to bring us all back together not tear us apart-"

"would you shut up?"

"what?"

"you were right. about dad. come on, i gotta show you something"

————————————————–

"i can't" eight didn't like crying, especially not in front of her father. he was always cruel, no matter how much the children pleaded and sobbed. she crumpled to the floor, exhausted. she hated training alone, she wanted to train with her siblings outside in the snow, it looked like more fun than this was.

"you are weak, number eight! we will continue until you can get it right" reginald glared down at her. "again!" 

she pushed herself up, wobbling. she weakly pushed herself again, trying to make something, anything happen. she squeezed her eyes shut, hands forming fists as she thought hard about what her father wanted. she didn't even know what she was expected to do. to no surprise, nothing happened. reginald sighed heavily, disappointed. he pulled a watch from his pocket before staring down at her as she fell to her knees again.

"you are dismissed, dinner will be in 20 minutes" and she was left alone. reginald disappeared into his office once again. she lay on the floor for a moment, heaving for breath. they had been training for hours, pushing her past her limits. grace and pogo lead her siblings, minus vanya, in through the doors. not wanting them to see her like that she gripped the table behind her, pulling herself up and leaning against it. 

"y/n?" ben frowned, stepping over. the others look at her in shock. she shook him off, grumbling about how she was 'fine'. he watched her stumble up the stairs, cringing in pain. her siblings all shared a saddened look. 

when they did rush down for dinner, y/n slumped into her chair, dark bags under her eyes. she barely touched her food, pushing it around her plate.

"number eight!" the next thing she knew five was holding her head up and her father was yelling at her. he degraded her, insulted her but she didn't hear a thing. five slowly let go of her, watching her carefully before turning away, back to his meal.

she sat up straighter and actually started to eat the food on her plate, after all, she must train on a full stomach.

————————————————–

y/n and five walked up the stairs of the mansion, feet dragging heavily. as they stepped up they were met with luther and allison.

"five? y/n? what the hell happened to you?" both stayed silent. y/n stared at her feet in a sort of daze. everything was still kind of confusing. 

"are you okay?" luther reached out to five, "can we help?" the said boy took him by surprise, hand snapping up and grabbing his fist.

"there's nothing you can do" he spat before his expression saddened, "there's nothing any of you can do.."

y/n looked up, watching as he went. she frowned.

"you alright?" she stared at luther for a moment, grimacing as she remembered what they had last talked about. she kept her mouth shut, brushing past him to her room. 

"y/n, wait-"

"just fuck off, luther" she snapped before he could say anything. he should have stayed on that moon.

————————————————–

"number eight" the remaining five siblings with powers stood in a line. it had been a couple weeks since ben's death now. reginald stood in front of them. they had all been told today's training would be different. "step forwards" she did as she was told, standing in front of the others. "you will be using your powers on your siblings today" 

her head snapped up at that as did the others. she had never used her powers on them before and they knew what she could do to others. he sent the others all around the house. she was told to find them, sensing where they were with a blindfold on, almost like hide and seek without any of the fun. it was when she had found them all for the seventh time that she sensed something else. 

"there are five people in line" she stated, "vanya?" 

"wrong" she heard her father scold. "there are only four"

"there's a fifth, i can sense it" she frowned, pulling her blindfold off to see only her four siblings. they all looked confused. "klaus.. is there a ghost? it.. it feels like ben"

"no" he answered far too quickly. ben turned on him from beside him,

"what? klaus! i am here! tell her i'm here!" 

"no, he's not" 

"klaus! what the hell?! you're so selfish! i am here!" but of course, she never knew that..

————————————————–

"come on, luther, i have to show you" allison tried to pull him away but he continued to stare at where y/n had told him to 'fuck off'. he felt.. guilty.

"but.. what about y/n?" he looked at her. he hated that he upset her, he hated that he had accused her without any actual evidence. she was only a child, just like diego said. 

"she's angry, let her cool off. you should apologise but not right now, give her some time" allison offered a soft smile, "that's all she needs, some time. now, come on, this is important" 

"i just.. i feel guilty" luther frowned as they walked towards their father's room filled with cameras. "i shouldn't have assumed-"

"she'll understand" allison reassured with a smile. 

————————————————–

y/n sat in her corner of the library, reading alone. she was calm, it was her safe place, nobody could bother her here. no training, no arguments, just peace.

"eight.." she looked up from her book at her brother's voice. five.

"what's wrong?" she shuffled over, eyebrows furrowing at the look on his face. he was worried, something five wasn't usually.. or at least he never showed it.

"i.. i want to time travel" he begun softly, taking a seat beside her. she frowned, why was he telling her? "i want to try but dad refused to teach me"

she froze, "you're going to try anyway" she realised. he nodded, now looking up at her.

"i know you think i hate you but i don't" he slowly begun, thinking of the words he was trying to say. "i'm telling you because i think you're the most trustworthy.. and i.." he paused, unsure of how to say what he wanted to. "i think you're the strongest, eight, no matter what our siblings may say"

"five.." she grimaced, "i know we don't talk much but i'll support you if anything happens"

"i do want to talk to you more" he sighed, ashamed for having obeyed his father's stupid rules. "but-"

"no, no. it's not your fault" y/n shook her head. "it's hard to go against him, i understand"

"you're too kind.. you shouldn't forgive people so easily, they'll take advantage of you" five frowned and she laughed. 

"i thought i was the strongest, huh?" she nudged his shoulder with her own, finally getting a small smile.

————————————————–

"let me do that" y/n pulled a chair beside five, gently pulling the needle and thread out of his hand. he frowned but let her anyways. "you're antsy" she pointed out, eyeing his bouncing knee. "going somewhere in a rush?" 

"i need to go back" he stared out the door, ready to rush out. "i need to find whoever this eye belongs to so that i can stop the apocalypse" 

"i know" y/n nodded, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as she finished stitching him up. she gently used a cloth to wipe the blood off his arm before placing a bandaid over it. five stood, pulling his shirt on and buttoning it up.

"can i come?" she watched him stuff dolores into the duffle bag and swing it onto his back. 

"no" he barely spared her a glance as he moved towards the window. he climbed out.

"what? why not? come on, five" she leaned out the window, watching him begin to climb down the fire escape. 

"i need to do this, y/n, it's important" he looked up at her now. "just wait for me here, i'll come back, okay?"

albeit hurt she nodded, she needed to be understanding. she frowned, moving away from the window, hoping to find something else to do. instead as she walked out of the room she noticed luther.

she quickly moved towards her room, hoping he wouldn't see her. she couldn't deal with anymore fighting right now. to her misfortune he did notice her, following her to her room. she swiftly locked the door as she ducked inside.

"hey.. y/n?" luther stood outside her locked door, hand giving a single knock.

"what do you want?" she hissed back, refusing to open it for him. she didn't need anymore of his accusations.

"i'm.. i'm sorry for accusing you" luther sighed. he had to get this over with, she deserved an apology. "it was wrong and i shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that"

he heard her cautious footsteps as she made her way to the door. there was pause before she slowly peeked out. 

"you mean it..?" she frowned, eyeing his carefully. he nodded.

"i'm sorry. i know you've probably been lonely here, i know what it's like-"

"just shut up" she breathed out a laugh, pulling the door open fully, looking relieved. "no more fighting, please? i just want my family back.." the last part was quiet, vulnerable. luther nodded, smiling back. 

"no more fighting" there was a comfortable silence that fell over the two of them before luther spoke again.

"by the way, do you know where five is?"

"yeah, why?" she tilted her head at him, confused.

"we're having a family meeting.. it's about mom. i'm going to get him"

"okay, but i can't guarantee he'll find this as important as you do"

tag list: @rxses-and-reverie @lostgreekgod @on-yourmark-99 @bicyhot1 @navs-bhat @midnightmystic

[scorpiobitch95]

I Need You to Hold Me

Summary: You are comforted during a panic/anxiety attack by your loving man.

Pairing: Syverson x Female Reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Description of anxiety attack, racing thoughts, mental health struggles.

A/N: Writing this was my therapeutic way to deal with how I've been feeling the last few weeks. Anxiety sucks, man, but realizing you have so much good to relish in is extremely important. Straight from my heart... I hope you enjoy. 🖤

Edited by myself, sorry not sorry.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or claiming any ideas or parts as your own.

Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!

•

I Need You to Hold Me

Attacks like this were sporadic these days. Much of the credit was due to the large sleeping form beside you who helped to keep those racing thoughts away.

Tonight, however, your demons were back to visit.

Sy always knew when you were spiraling again; he was very observant and could see the signs coming from miles away: your energy was drained, your fun and goofy mood was replaced with reserved quietness, and your responses turned curt and sharp. He had tried his best all day to softly lift you out of it, but you were undeniably slipping under.

Your mind had spent the day whirring and over-analyzing everything it could touch; you were imprisoned by your inner world. An explanation was lost as to why it affected so heavily you some days and why other days it was completely nonexistent. The build-up to this moment had been brewing under the surface since you'd awoken. You'd barely held your composure through the evening, though luckily Sy had worked late so you hadn't had to try and hide for too long.

Even though you knew that he was aware of your feelings, you wanted to try and spare him as much as possible. You'd opted for an early bed time, tucking yourself away from the world. He let you, not pushing you to share, knowing sometimes that was all you could do to cope. He kissed and hugged you goodnight and proceeded to shut down the house for the evening.

Lying wide awake in the stillness of the night, you were trying not to shake the bed or awaken your husband as your body began to react uncontrollably to the scenes that played in your head.

It all began to hit you, wave after wave, failure after failure. Every fear was pictured clear as day when you closed your eyes. All of those tools and logic you normally could use to rationalize… all of that inner work was cowering behind the dancing ghouls of your darkness. Warm tears blazed their way down your cheeks as your sinuses began to burn red hot. You looked over at your husband, snoring lightly beside you, tears pouring faster.

Sy was, without a doubt, the most caring and doting man. The Captain had been hard at work reconstructing parts of your home for your major renovation. You didn’t want to wake him; he needed to sleep, despite how much he swore that he did not. He’d been so tired lately but was ecstatic about giving the two of you your dream home. He was the best husband: Always doing whatever he could to take care of you and finding things to make you smile.

Guilt gripped you.

Guilt for worrying about these terrors in your head. Guilt for not being able to bypass the bad to relish only in the good. Guilt because you had so many facets of your life to be thankful for, including the incredible man who put his all into taking care of you, but tonight, those things were hard to hold onto. Why these thoughts were pummeling your headspace tonight, you couldn't explain.

You felt the shattering approaching like a steam engine, powering ahead with no way to put on the brakes. A quiet sob erupted through your lips, and you fought to silence yourself, covering your mouth with your hand. A small cry left your squeezing chest as you heaved for air, your body involuntarily lifting off the bed for a short moment. Your sobs began coming quicker, and you pulled your blanket up over your shoulders and hugged yourself, seeking self-comfort as you began to lose control.

You turned over to the outside of the bed so that you wouldn’t wake him. The tears were hot now, pouring continuously down your cheeks. Your body started to shake and the sobs rolled out of your body faster. You struggled to not jostle Sy, but you felt him roll to his side to get close to you.

Softly, a large muscled arm made its way across your tummy and pulled you into his warm body, his fingers drawing soothing circles on your middle.

“Shhh, Sugar. What is it, baby?” His voice was deep and groggy with sleep. He pressed his lips to your temple and started gently kissing your hair as he tightened his grip on your shaking body. Your arms wrapped around his as you lost your control and turned into his chest.

“It feels too heavy,” you choked out between sucking in breaths.

He was suddenly very alert. “Whatcha need? Tell me what I can do, Darlin’.”

“I need you to hold me, Sy. Please, I just need to feel you.”

The two of you melted into each other, and Sy held gripped you with a gentleness but also with the strength of an iron gate as you broke apart in his arms.

Guilt. Fear. Inadequacies. They all attacked your senses as you released everything that had been trapped inside.

How can he love you when you put him through this?

“I… don’t… deserve you,” you breathed out through your hyperventilations, your tears dampening the hair on his chest.

“Yes, yes you do, Sugar. Shh, I gotcha.” His body gently rocked yours as he softly rubbed a hand up and down your back. “Breathe, babe. Focus on your breath, you’ve got this.” The vibrations coming from his chest soothed yours as you both laid skin to skin, as close as you could possibly be.

Minutes passed. Maybe even hours. Focusing on steadying your breath while his hands roamed over your back, you slowly started to regain control over yourself, the sobs becoming fewer and fewer.

“Sy?” You sniffled and hugged even closer to him.

“Yea?”

“Will you lay on me?”

“Sure thing, Darlin’.” Sy carefully laid you on your back and moved himself over you, snaking his arms around your middle and placing his thick thighs in between both of yours, letting you wrap your legs around his back. His body laid across you and his head was nestled between your breasts. The weight of him pressed into you and helped to ground you in this moment. He’d done this countless times before tonight, holding you down to help you come back into yourself.

Your breath slowed and your tears subsided as you kissed the top of his head and softly touched his broad back, relishing in his warm smooth skin. Sy pressed soft kisses on your chest, reassuring you of his presence. “Breathe with me, Sugar.” You began to take big breaths to match his and eventually, your eyelids became heavy, fighting sleep. His warm scruffy cheek felt soothing against your breasts.

“Baby, I’m sorry... I —,” you barely could speak before he interrupted you.

“No, no apologizing. My vow was to take care of ya, and I’m going to do it every single day. Lord knows you do your fair share of takin’ care of me at my worst. Don't wait so long next time, okay?”

Quiet tears filled your eyes and fell again at his words.

“Thank you, Sy. I love you,” you breathed quietly. Your bodies moved as one whole with every breath taken, moving calmly up and down.

The last words Sy whispered before you dozed off vibrated through your entire being, covering your entire soul in warmth.

“Mmm.. I’ve gotcha, baby. I’ve always gotcha. I love you with my whole heart, Sugar.”

•

I do not own Captain Syverson, Sandcastle, or anything related to it.

Taglist: @justaboringadult @greensleeves888 @cavillsharman @beck07990 @summersong69

[slashersins-abandoned]

anonymous asked :

Hii! I love your writing so much 🥰 I was wondering if you could write something for Brahms Mikey Jesse & Thomas (and maybe poly!ghostface if you feel like?) when their pacifist soft s/o who they never kill in front of kisses their hands after they kill to protect her? I need some fluff in my life . Thank you!!

brahms

you knew brahms was a complicated man . prone to kindness , clinging to you constantly , begging for attention . prone to tantrums , destroying everything in his path , making the walls shake with his fury . prone to love , petting your hair , your face , whispering desperate words of affection . you never wanted to admit it , unable to think too long about how brahms was also very prone to violence . you were lucky , you’d heard of what happened in the heelshire manner before moving in . about a man being slaughtered , a nanny attacked and chased around like cat and mouse with the cat having an unfair advantage . you knew there were murders reported when people broke in . you knew brahms was capable . but you wer lucky . you never experienced it first hand .

the man must have been drunk . must have thought no one lived in the house despite the fact you put effort into making it look lived in . he must have been confused . that’s what you wanted to think when you heard the kitchen door be busted in . you made a mistake of not running to hide . no , you went to see what happened . it seemed you were just as unexpected as the intruder was , because he paused before taking after you like a bat out of hell , yelling and waving a wrench in his hand . you’d screamed , and brahms had nearly fallen as he clamored through the walls to seek you out .

brahms wasted no time in coming out of the walls , taking in the scene of some grimy intruder about to bring a wrench down on your prone form . he saw red . chest heaving and blood thundering in his ears as he ripped the wrench out of the man’s hands and used it to beat against the man’s skull . the intruder tried to put up a fight , he even tried reaching out to you for help , but you were too wide eyed , watching as brahms violently ended this man’s life for breaking into his home , for hurting his significant other . there was no mercy . and when brahms was sure that the man had breathed his last , he looked to you . and you saw no remorse in his eyes for the kill .

the adrenaline coursing through him had him forgetting your distaste for gore and violence . he just needed to know you were okay . he thought you might flinch , might cry . but instead you took his outstretched hands and bought them to your face . kissing over his knuckles as tears finally fell . brahms pulled you into a tight embrace , hushing you as you spilled out your thank yous , i love yous , i was so scared . he’d dispose of the mess later . right now you needed him . and he needed you .

michael

michael has never killed in front of you . there’s never been a reason to . you’re always at home , at work , at school , somewhere he isn’t when he’s destroying and ending lives . the most you see is a bloody knife in your kitchen and filthy clothes in the hamper . you don’t like it , hating to think about those who lost their life to michael’s blood lust . you know you’re lucky to have never seen it . to only deal with the smallest of traces of the destruction he leaves .

it’s a nice evening for a walk . work was running late , and so you stayed extra . and after such a long shift , you were excited to get home and hopefully find michael sitting on the couch . maybe he’d tolerate you leaning on him as you forget the stresses of the day . you don’t notice you’re being followed . maybe it’s due to you being lost in your own little world . maybe it’s due to the fact you’ve gotten used to the feeling of being watched by micahel that it just slips your mind completely . but you do feel the head of a gun shove into your back as a hand wraps around your mouth .

there’s a demand that you give up your money or else . the gun digging in your back painfully as gloved hands squeeze your jaw hard . another demand , a near desperate shout for your any and everything in your bag . and then you feel the man press against you , a weak strained noise leaving him , something thick and warm dripping down the back of your neck and over your shoulders . the weight of the man get’s heavy , and then he falls to the side , gargling on his own blood , twitching and wide eyed as he stairs at the sky .

you turn so fast you almost fall , taking a few steps back only to meet michael’s gaze . a kitchen knife in his hand , wet and dripping crimson . he watches you for a moment . daring you to run . and you do , but not away from him , to him . he lets you wrap your arms around him chest , sobbing as you cling to him . michael allows the contact until you even your breathing . you want to stay and cling to him , fingers in a white knuckle grip on his jumpsuit . you just saw him kill and yet you still stay . because you love him . because despite everything , you know at least some small part of him might love you to .

jesse

he has enemies . he knows this . he’s rich and powerful and a murderer . he’s bound to have a few outside forces trying to come down on him . jesse had never thought , however , that this enemy would come from within . preston was a wanna be . he’d been trying to frame himself as the new , better chromeskull . he’d been added to jesse’s shit list the moment the man found out , making the other rush off into hiding and prepare for the inevitable . and preston … preston thought he was smart . thought he could make jesse suffer . he thought he could take you away from him . preston had never been so wrong .

he’d taken you . taken you with threats to torture you . the fury inside of jesse was untamed . preston thought he was so smart , but jesse was smarter . he found the little hide away without any difficulty . always sloppy and so easy to track . preston was pathetic . and jesse would be doing the world a fucking favor by ending his life .

he’d never wanted to drag you into this world . he wanted you free from it . but here you were , tapped to a chair , tears streaming down your face . preston was smug as he watched you , not noticing the gleam of chrome behind him . not realizing that jesse was here , close . he didn’t notice until jesse squatted down and cut through his Achilles tendon in one deep slash . the larger man was quick to disarm preston , using the knife he’d been holding to stab through his hand with so much force it settled into the floor . jesse hand’t wanted you to see this side of him . but it open for you . jesse’s heart set on one thing and one thing only . dismembering and torturing this betrayer of trust and kidnapper of his love . it slow and agonizing , and you had to close your eyes and look away , unable to take the scene . but when the screaming stopped you looked back , seeing the way jesse’s broad shoulders shook and his head titled back .

you made a noise , and it drew his attention . he was on you in and instant . cutting you free and tugging at tap , even if it hurt , he wanted it off of you . before he could sign anything you were tugging him in , pushing his chrome mask off his face and kissing him , asking if he was okay , telling him how worried you were about him . he couldn’t help but bring you in close , bloodstained , gloved hands ridding up your shirt . you’d seen him at his truest , and yet you worried for him instead of yourself . he couldn’t ever let you go now .

thomas

the meat had got out . high on adrenaline and fear , the girl had somehow used her bloody wrists to wiggle out of her restraints . thomas has roared with fury when he saw her missing . grabbing his chainsaw as he quickly stomped upstairs . he needed to find and end them before they had a chance to retaliate against his family .

he was panting , looking for blood trails to lead him in the right direction when he heard you scream . his heart stopped for half a second as fear and rage flooded him . they had you . they would hurt you , take you away . he couldn’t lose you . he could’t .

the woman was clawing at you , sobbing as she dug her jagged nails into your skin , you tried to crawl away , tried to push her off , panic flooding you . soon her begs became screeches of betrayal as she realized you were one of those monsters who had killed her friends . her hands balled into fists and she raised them , bringing them down on you were she could . she didn’t get more than two hits in before tommy brought the chainsaw down on her , tearing into her back and through her spine , splattering the both of you in blood .

thomas kicked away the corpse , dropping the chainsaw as he looked down at you . fear in his eyes as he panted . he wanted to reach out , to hold you . but how could he ? you saw him kill . you would think he was a monster . and he deserved it for not tying the meat up tighter . for not just killing the meat right off the bat .

you can only look up at thomas , trying to calm your breathing .the fear and self hate in his eyes . the utter loneliness  … you’re shaky on your feet , walking towards him . taking his hands in yours and kissing over his palms . he can’t help the sob that falls from his lips as he presses his forehead to your shoulder . and you can’t help that you press his hands over your heart , showing him you’re okay . it’s okay . every things okay .

billy & stu

the boys are possessive and protective . they don’t like when people try to step in on their territory . it’s not you they don’t trust . it’s them . and there is only so much they can take before they snap . so it’s no surprise that they do . they don’t have their gear . but they do have a pick pocketed pocket knife and rage , and that will just have to do the trick . they don’t have time plan , they only have time to act . because that drunken bastard hasn’t left you alone all night , and he decided it would be find to just fucking grab at you despite you telling him to stop .

they gang up on you , putting themselves between you and the drunken bitch fuck who was trying to grind on you . they don’t want you to see , one of them backing you up , while the other all but guts the bastard in a swift motion , careful not to get blood on them . it happens so fast , the screaming , the boys acting shocked , the sudden need to rush outside , to leave the bar and sneak away . stu blocks you from view , billy leading the three of you to a gas station . with and outdoor bathroom .

they shove you in , billy washing the blood off his hands and trying to clean out the sink the best he can . stu trying to keep you from looking , but it’s too late . you can put it all together . and you’re wide eyed as you look between your boys . the looks in there eyes show you that there is a secret they’ve been hiding . something dark , something they’re scared of you finding out . and as you watch their faces everything falls into place .

this isn’t how they wanted you to find out . they didn’t want you to find out . even if they both knew that with time you would . and here in a shitty public bathroom their secret became exposed . they wait for your response . teetering on the edge of fear and rejection . when you take their hands in your own . raising them to your cheeks and give them that soft smile , they feel relieved . and you’re next words , accepting and concerned for them have them both laughing and pulling you in for kisses . just stay safe , for me .

[slashersins]

Hii! I love your writing so much 🥰 I was wondering if you could write something for Brahms Mikey Jesse & Thomas (and maybe poly!ghostface if you feel like?) when their pacifist soft s/o who they never kill in front of kisses their hands after they kill to protect her? I need some fluff in my life . Thank you!!

mmmm somft reader with their murder men in a somft moment ! ! ! 

Hii! I love your writing so much 🥰 I was wondering if you could write something for Brahms Mikey Jesse & Thomas (and maybe poly!ghostface if you feel like?) when their pacifist soft s/o who they never kill in front of kisses their hands after they kill to protect her? I need some fluff in my life . Thank you!!

brahms

you knew brahms was a complicated man . prone to kindness , clinging to you constantly , begging for attention . prone to tantrums , destroying everything in his path , making the walls shake with his fury . prone to love , petting your hair , your face , whispering desperate words of affection . you never wanted to admit it , unable to think too long about how brahms was also very prone to violence . you were lucky , you’d heard of what happened in the heelshire manner before moving in . about a man being slaughtered , a nanny attacked and chased around like cat and mouse with the cat having an unfair advantage . you knew there were murders reported when people broke in . you knew brahms was capable . but you wer lucky . you never experienced it first hand . 

the man must have been drunk . must have thought no one lived in the house despite the fact you put effort into making it look lived in . he must have been confused . that’s what you wanted to think when you heard the kitchen door be busted in . you made a mistake of not running to hide . no , you went to see what happened . it seemed you were just as unexpected as the intruder was , because he paused before taking after you like a bat out of hell , yelling and waving a wrench in his hand . you’d screamed , and brahms had nearly fallen as he clamored through the walls to seek you out . 

brahms wasted no time in coming out of the walls , taking in the scene of some grimy intruder about to bring a wrench down on your prone form . he saw red . chest heaving and blood thundering in his ears as he ripped the wrench out of the man’s hands and used it to beat against the man’s skull . the intruder tried to put up a fight , he even tried reaching out to you for help , but you were too wide eyed , watching as brahms violently ended this man’s life for breaking into his home , for hurting his significant other . there was no mercy . and when brahms was sure that the man had breathed his last , he looked to you . and you saw no remorse in his eyes for the kill . 

the adrenaline coursing through him had him forgetting your distaste for gore and violence . he just needed to know you were okay . he thought you might flinch , might cry . but instead you took his outstretched hands and bought them to your face . kissing over his knuckles as tears finally fell . brahms pulled you into a tight embrace , hushing you as you spilled out your thank yous , i love yous , i was so scared . he’d dispose of the mess later . right now you needed him . and he needed you . 

michael

michael has never killed in front of you . there’s never been a reason to . you’re always at home , at work , at school , somewhere he isn’t when he’s destroying and ending lives . the most you see is a bloody knife in your kitchen and filthy clothes in the hamper . you don’t like it , hating to think about those who lost their life to michael’s blood lust . you know you’re lucky to have never seen it . to only deal with the smallest of traces of the destruction he leaves . 

it’s a nice evening for a walk . work was running late , and so you stayed extra . and after such a long shift , you were excited to get home and hopefully find michael sitting on the couch . maybe he’d tolerate you leaning on him as you forget the stresses of the day . you don’t notice you’re being followed . maybe it’s due to you being lost in your own little world . maybe it’s due to the fact you’ve gotten used to the feeling of being watched by micahel that it just slips your mind completely . but you do feel the head of a gun shove into your back as a hand wraps around your mouth . 

there’s a demand that you give up your money or else . the gun digging in your back painfully as gloved hands squeeze your jaw hard . another demand , a near desperate shout for your any and everything in your bag . and then you feel the man press against you , a weak strained noise leaving him , something thick and warm dripping down the back of your neck and over your shoulders . the weight of the man get’s heavy , and then he falls to the side , gargling on his own blood , twitching and wide eyed as he stairs at the sky .

you turn so fast you almost fall , taking a few steps back only to meet michael’s gaze . a kitchen knife in his hand , wet and dripping crimson . he watches you for a moment . daring you to run . and you do , but not away from him , to him . he lets you wrap your arms around him chest , sobbing as you cling to him . michael allows the contact until you even your breathing . you want to stay and cling to him , fingers in a white knuckle grip on his jumpsuit . you just saw him kill and yet you still stay . because you love him . because despite everything , you know at least some small part of him might love you to . 

jesse

he has enemies . he knows this . he’s rich and powerful and a murderer . he’s bound to have a few outside forces trying to come down on him . jesse had never thought , however , that this enemy would come from within . preston was a wanna be . he’d been trying to frame himself as the new , better chromeskull . he’d been added to jesse’s shit list the moment the man found out , making the other rush off into hiding and prepare for the inevitable . and preston . . . preston thought he was smart . thought he could make jesse suffer . he thought he could take you away from him . preston had never been so wrong . 

he’d taken you . taken you with threats to torture you . the fury inside of jesse was untamed . preston thought he was so smart , but jesse was smarter . he found the little hide away without any difficulty . always sloppy and so easy to track . preston was pathetic . and jesse would be doing the world a fucking favor by ending his life . 

he’d never wanted to drag you into this world . he wanted you free from it . but here you were , tapped to a chair , tears streaming down your face . preston was smug as he watched you , not noticing the gleam of chrome behind him . not realizing that jesse was here , close . he didn’t notice until jesse squatted down and cut through his Achilles tendon in one deep slash . the larger man was quick to disarm preston , using the knife he’d been holding to stab through his hand with so much force it settled into the floor . jesse hand’t wanted you to see this side of him . but it open for you . jesse’s heart set on one thing and one thing only . dismembering and torturing this betrayer of trust and kidnapper of his love . it slow and agonizing , and you had to close your eyes and look away , unable to take the scene . but when the screaming stopped you looked back , seeing the way jesse’s broad shoulders shook and his head titled back . 

you made a noise , and it drew his attention . he was on you in and instant . cutting you free and tugging at tap , even if it hurt , he wanted it off of you . before he could sign anything you were tugging him in , pushing his chrome mask off his face and kissing him , asking if he was okay , telling him how worried you were about him . he couldn’t help but bring you in close , bloodstained , gloved hands ridding up your shirt . you’d seen him at his truest , and yet you worried for him instead of yourself . he couldn’t ever let you go now .

thomas

the meat had got out . high on adrenaline and fear , the girl had somehow used her bloody wrists to wiggle out of her restraints . thomas has roared with fury when he saw her missing . grabbing his chainsaw as he quickly stomped upstairs . he needed to find and end them before they had a chance to retaliate against his family . 

he was panting , looking for blood trails to lead him in the right direction when he heard you scream . his heart stopped for half a second as fear and rage flooded him . they had you . they would hurt you , take you away . he couldn’t lose you . he could’t . 

the woman was clawing at you , sobbing as she dug her jagged nails into your skin , you tried to crawl away , tried to push her off , panic flooding you . soon her begs became screeches of betrayal as she realized you were one of those monsters who had killed her friends . her hands balled into fists and she raised them , bringing them down on you were she could . she didn’t get more than two hits in before tommy brought the chainsaw down on her , tearing into her back and through her spine , splattering the both of you in blood . 

thomas kicked away the corpse , dropping the chainsaw as he looked down at you . fear in his eyes as he panted . he wanted to reach out , to hold you . but how could he ? you saw him kill . you would think he was a monster . and he deserved it for not tying the meat up tighter . for not just killing the meat right off the bat . 

you can only look up at thomas , trying to calm your breathing .the fear and self hate in his eyes . the utter loneliness  . . . you’re shaky on your feet , walking towards him . taking his hands in yours and kissing over his palms . he can’t help the sob that falls from his lips as he presses his forehead to your shoulder . and you can’t help that you press his hands over your heart , showing him you’re okay . it’s okay . every things okay . 

billy & stu

the boys are possessive and protective . they don’t like when people try to step in on their territory . it’s not you they don’t trust . it’s them . and there is only so much they can take before they snap . so it’s no surprise that they do . they don’t have their gear . but they do have a pick pocketed pocket knife and rage , and that will just have to do the trick . they don’t have time plan , they only have time to act . because that drunken bastard hasn’t left you alone all night , and he decided it would be find to just fucking grab at you despite you telling him to stop . 

they gang up on you , putting themselves between you and the drunken bitch fuck who was trying to grind on you . they don’t want you to see , one of them backing you up , while the other all but guts the bastard in a swift motion , careful not to get blood on them . it happens so fast , the screaming , the boys acting shocked , the sudden need to rush outside , to leave the bar and sneak away . stu blocks you from view , billy leading the three of you to a gas station . with and outdoor bathroom . 

they shove you in , billy washing the blood off his hands and trying to clean out the sink the best he can . stu trying to keep you from looking , but it’s too late . you can put it all together . and you’re wide eyed as you look between your boys . the looks in there eyes show you that there is a secret they’ve been hiding . something dark , something they’re scared of you finding out . and as you watch their faces everything falls into place . 

this isn’t how they wanted you to find out . they didn’t want you to find out . even if they both knew that with time you would . and here in a shitty public bathroom their secret became exposed . they wait for your response . teetering on the edge of fear and rejection . when you take their hands in your own . raising them to your cheeks and give them that soft smile , they feel relieved . and you’re next words , accepting and concerned for them have them both laughing and pulling you in for kisses . just stay safe , for me .

[paper-n-ashes]

Here

Characters: Dan Jones x Reader

Words: 1.9k

Warnings/Tags: Explicit (18+), mentions of sadness/depression, PIV sex, otherwise it’s the fluffiest fluffy fluff

Author’s Note: The last repost. A piece I wrote to work through my own issues at the time. A reminder to anyone, if you feel down, unhappy, or even just a bit flat, feel free to reach out to me. I will always make time for you as an ear to listen or a distraction with Oscar or Adam gifs 🥰

It had been a long and draining day. Not unusual really. Every evening Dan trudged up the stairs to your shared apartment, he felt much the same way.

Tired. More emotionally than physically. The things he read, the truths he was unravelling… It was truly soul-sucking work. Yet just the image of you, patiently waiting for his return home after another late night, provided a stark light in the darkness he found himself momentarily falling into as his muffled footsteps echoed down the hall.

He knew he was lucky. Lucky you were so patient. So understanding. Always waiting on him. Spending more time apart than together. The cancelled dinner dates, the events you’d had to attend alone, the weekends away you never got to plan, believing his work was more important.

There wasn’t a single time you complained. Always giving him the same loving smile, one he wasn’t sure how he deserved.

It wasn’t on your face when he slipped through the door. Curled up on the couch, knees hugged to your chest, you looked… sad.

Noticing his entrance, your expression quickly changed, beaming as your eyes locked with his. “Dan,” you breathed, a relieved edge to the name, releasing yourself from the tense ball and rushing to join him at the entryway.

The room was dim, air filled with silence as you slinked your arms under the jacket of his suit and around his torso, squeezing tight.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“You don’t need to say that every night,” you urged, words muffled into his chest.

“I know.” He still would, no matter how much you protested. Stroking a palm over your hair, Dan touched his lips to your forehead. For a moment, he simply breathed you in. Relishing the flowered perfume still lingering on your skin that would forever remind him of you.

It was such an unexplainable phenomenon. How you eased his stress with a single warm embrace. He hoped he could do the same for you.

“Is everything alright?” he asked softly.

“Absolutely,” you lied, nodding against his crisp, collared shirt. “You’re home now. Everything is just fine.”

Dan couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of your response. But he also wasn’t stupid. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

You shifted your head to look up at him. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

There was a redness around your eyes that became glaringly clear. Crying. You’d definitely been crying.

A thumb traced the line under your lower lid. “Please don’t lie. I have to deal with enough of those every day.”

Your mouth twisted, feeling your throat tighten. Unknowingly, he’d illustrated exactly why you tried to hide your sadness in the first place. He didn’t need your burden. He already had enough weighing on his shoulders.

But you also knew he wouldn’t let this go. The man was a bloodhound for seeking the truth, and the way he was looking at you now, features filled with heartbreaking concern, your resolve weakened.

Taking a deep breath, you were honest. “I’ve just been feeling a little… sad lately. Not a big deal. It’ll pass.”

Dan’s eyebrows drew together, heart already aching at your admission. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

You shrugged, pupils darting to the floor. “A few days. As I said, not a big deal. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Two palms quickly found their way to your cheeks, forcing your stares to lock. He looked almost panicked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’ve got other things that need your attention-”

“You think your sadness is not worth my attention?” he cut off, positively stunned at how casually you’d spoken your answer.

It’s what he’s always feared. This. Shielding him from the troubles in your own life while you joined in fighting his. Being his remedy, his source of comfort, while you struggled alone.

“It’s okay,” you attempted to soothe. “I can handle it myself, really.”

He shook his head. “No. No. You shouldn’t have to.”

Your fingers grazed lightly over the clean-shaven line of his jaw. “You’re so busy-”

The sentence couldn’t be finished, pulled into a squeezing embrace, hands cradling around you. “I will never be too busy when you really need me. Ever.” Breaths began to waft over your hair, Dan’s voice riddled with a gentle urgency. “And I’m here right now. Tell me how to make this better. Please.”

His caring hold had your resilience failing, unable to camouflage the misery you’d been feeling any longer. “I don’t even know h-how… What I need…” you quivered, voice starting to break. A sniffle escaped, barely able to suppress the urge to cry.

Dan wasn’t ever particularly good at solving problems. He knew that. Finding them, providing the support others needed to take action, that was his sweet spot. What he was good at. So that’s what he would do now.

The pressure around your body vanished, only for Dan to dip down and pluck you into in his arms, bridal style, carrying your body effortlessly to the bedroom.

His movements were cautious, making sure to place you delicately into the mattress. Without removing a single piece of clothing, shoes still on, he laid down, making your shape curl into his.

“We’re going to lay here for a while, okay? However long you want. You don’t have to talk. You can just… be sad.” Another kiss landed on the top of your head. “If you need me to do something, if you figure out what might help, I’ll be here. I’ll be right here.”

That did it. The wall you had been forcing to remain standing, now a crumbling pile of rocks, leaving you exposed. Vulnerable.

You began to cry.

At first, it was a soft weeping, tears wiped away by your own shaky fingers. Yet restraint withered into nothing, succumbing to the gloom that had haunted you for days.

Your breaths were harsh through heaving sobs, first clutching into Dan’s shirt, salted droplets staining the white fabric.

He couldn’t deny, it was painful to see you like this. To hear the whimpers of your distress. A slight wetness appeared at his corner of his eyes, clutching you closer. It was all he could do. Remind you of his presence, stroking your back as you let your emotions spill over.

As minutes passed into the next, your crying slowed, yet the quietness that followed was never broken. You both remained muted in the darkness, a tangle of limbs, your face nestled into Dan’s neck, his cheek resting over your hair.

Soon, without intention, the two of you fell asleep.

*

It was close to 3am when you woke again. Blinking through the haze of slumber, Dan rustled next to you, still fully dressed in his work attire.

Recent memories came surging through, the way he’d given you everything you needed, by doing nearly nothing at all.

Illuminated only by the light streaming through a set of half open blinds, your eyes wandered over his peaceful, dreaming face.

You didn’t get to see it as often as you liked. But when you did, you were infinitely grateful. Every long absence kept you savouring the time together more deeply. Quality over quantity.

A crackled snore suddenly broke through, having you fighting back a laugh. Dan shifted, still unconscious, turning closer into you, draping an arm over your waist. With a humming sound, you noticed a tiny smile curl his lips.

Oh, how you loved him.

You wanted to show him that, right now.

Carefully, you wriggled upwards, enough that you could press a dainty kiss just above the bridge of his nose. When he didn’t respond, you repeated the action, bringing your fingertips to his hairline, nails skimming over the inky strands.

You watched as his eyes fluttered, a sigh leaking from his throat. Before he could enter back into reality again, your lips landed on his, rolling over the supple pillows of flesh.

His reaction was sluggish, still gripped by a fog of fatigue, although soon his fingers were reaching into your hair, pulling your face even closer to strengthen your adoring kiss.

Words weren’t needed, Dan realised this as you began to unfasten the knot of his tie.

You’d figured out something he could do. Funnily enough, it was what he needed too. To make sure you knew exactly how much he loved you.

You’d done this dance many times, peeling off each other’s clothes. Yet this time felt… different. There was no rushing, no impatience. You both took your time, uncovering each portion of skin without reckless abandon.

With more exposure, Dan had more parts of you to kiss. So he did. Trailing them down your arms, your legs, his touch skating over your skin with such tenderness it made you shiver.

Eventually, the last piece of clothing that remained was your panties. Usually, being so desperate to fuck you after days going without, they’d be ripped off, sometimes even pulled to the side in his hastiness to fill you.

This time their removal was unhurried, restrained, Dan gliding the flimsy material down your legs with a calm poise.

Below, you noticed his touch disappear, looking up to see his stare roaming over your bareness.

So beautiful, he thought. Your body bathed in moonlight. While he wanted to speak it out loud, there was something poignant about the way the silence had continued to linger. He didn’t want to disturb it.

Instead, Dan covered your figure with his, skin to skin, scooping hands under you jaw. Another collision of your lips ensued, the exchange unabashedly passionate and filled an emotion too intricate to name.

Within an unspoken moment of harmony, Dan moved, lining himself to your entrance between your opened legs.

You’d been taken by him many times. In the bathroom stall on your first date. Over tables. On chairs. Floors. Kitchen counters. Countless times in this very bedroom. On this very mattress.

None of those scenes produced the same sense of satisfaction you felt as he sunk into you now. Not from the sensation itself, but the meaning behind it.

Words were fickle. They could be misconstrued. Altered by tone. Changed by moods and attitudes.

The way Dan began to thrust, steady yet severe, bruises being made from his grip at your back, kiss consuming your mouth and every facet of your thoughts…

There was no differing interpretation. No miscommunication. The definition explained merely by the feeling invoked from every action each of you made.

Two people. Expressing love in the most basal way in existence.

For a long time, longer than previous encounters, Dan worked himself in and out, relishing the feeling of your silky wetness, the whimpers he heard with each drag of his length.

Although, the feel of you clenching around him, when your thighs wrapped around his hips to to force his pelvis into yours with increasing intensity, soon had Dan struggling to stave off his release.

He didn’t ask to let it overtake him. Somehow, he knew didn’t need to.

Hurdling into a decadent climax, Dan drove hard into you, painting the deepest parts of your centre, filling you with everything he could give.

Slumping into your form, his nose burrowed into the curve between neck and shoulder. “I know I’m not always here,” he murmured. “But I’ll always be here. For you. Please remember that.”

Fingers swept over his messed hair. “I don’t think you’ll let me forget.”

One final kiss brushed over your throat. “Never again.”

*

@tlcwrites @roanniom @maryforyou @mariesackler @sacklerscumrag @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @mylifeisactuallyamess @hopeamarsu @foxilayde @goddesstonythetiger @caillea @direnightshade @blackberries45

[arllenn]

Hey there, I rarely check on Tumblr nowadays due to work and stuff but I've played Dragon Raja for a while now so if it's not too troubling, I would like to request a fic of MC giving Osho and the others a well deserved verbal smack down during the final showdown (the MC didn't blame the Gen siblings for what happened to them and managed to save Erii from Osho). Bonus if MC cut ties from everyone after the mission... Sorry, I'm a huge fan of angst.

Tags for this chapter: angst, violence, all bitter no sweet, respawn system gets abused for angst Tw: cannon typical violence, graphic-ish descriptions of death, blood, suicidal thoughts and almost actions, wounds and the like

You’re clutching yourself as you shake knees getting weaker by the second, hiccuping and heaving the flood of tears that decorates both your face and the street under you with the weight of your emotions are the only constant for you. You’re drowning in your own emotions, phantom pains of all of your recent deaths and revivals clawing at you demanding your attention, demanding your time. You’re hugging yourself trying to mimic the comforting action that you remember from your childhood. “Why isn’t it working.” You choke out sobbing harder as you grip your arms. It’s too tight yet not tight enough, your limbs responding to your pleas is a sign that you’re still alive yes, but, but this is, this isn’t what you want.... this isn’t what you want at all. Your nails are far sharper than you remember them they tore through the flesh of your arms lightly. You could feel Herzog’s claws ripping through your flesh as well, everything hurt, you want to go home, you want to go home, you want to go home.....

But you can’t. Everyone was dead, at one point Caesar had said that Black Swan Bay had sunken, so the actual land was probably gone too, nothing left to remember that place but you Zero and Z. God you wanted to see them right now, the area on your head that he had patted earlier seemed warm giving you a small amount of comfort but also dealing even more damage to your psyche. You wanted to go back to those warm days in your childhood when none of this was known to you. When you weren't running around matchmaking and doing everyone else's work while also getting nothing in return, not a thanks, not even a small indirect amount of appreciation or encouragement. Your legs buckled under you your arms reching out as if to grab onto something to stop you from falling. Your knees met with the ground violently scraping at the skin there. You can't breathe, you can't breathe, youcantbreatheyoucantbreatheyoucantbreatheyoucantbreathe, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts, why is he doing this to you didn't he love you? That man, Herzog, had raised you. You had spent so much time at that orphanage, you were so happy. So why.  whywhywhywhywhyhwhywhy. You recalled warm winter nights spent in front of the fireplace curled up with Zero on one side and Z on the other.

You remembered one day specifically. Back then you lot were young, so, so, so, young. You chuckled choking on your tears, that day Z and you had spent a solid hour arguing over who would run over to get Zero, that day it had started raining, then the rain had turned to hail mid hide and seek game. Z had found you moments before the storm started. You two ended up huddled under the ice bridge. The orphanage in sight but seeming miles away due to the storm. Zero had been caught first and had gone back to the courtyard as per the rules so she was probably fine. You needed one of you to go and get her so that she could bring back an umbrella for the other. Then you had heard it, the sound of thunder wolves nearby. Then Z, with no hesitation had, scooped you up put your head under one of the flaps or his jacket and ran back to the cottages. All while you could hear the heavy ‘thunk thunk thunk’ of wolf paws behind you. Looking back on it now those wolves were probably the result of Herzog’s experiments and not a naturally occurring species. The souring of your childhood memory made bile rise in your throat, the thought of looking at your early life through that lens rather than just christmas day made you want to scream. Z and Zero were so different from your seniors. If you had been with any of them back then you knew for a fact that they would’ve sent you to deal with the wolves, only coming in when you were a hairs breath away from dying.

But that hadn’t save you before, you can’t count how many times you’ve died sense meeting them. From your flesh being torn from your bones by death servitors to bleeding out in some nameless alleyway after being shot by hydra’s soldiers. You had also drowned at one point, that death had been the worst. You remembered clawing at the water begging for the chance to live once again, you remembered feeling your legs tear off after the submarine had exploded, you remembered reaching your mangled arms out, out, out towards the light that came from the surface of the water. You remember feeling the water force itself down your throat and into your lungs, it burns, it hurts, it burns, it hurts. You had been seeing flashes of reality as well as the last time you ended up in cold waters like those. It didn’t matter because in the end you had died. It never matters how hard you try, how many times you die, because you always end up failing.

You lay on the sidewalk screaming, there was no one nearby nor anything that you could hear other than the pounding of rain on the sidewalk and your own sobbing. Your hand burned with the new blood that flowed inside you. Your mind burned with the scars of the past that it never got to address, your heart burned with the open wounds this mission had left you with. You wanted to die right here, sink away into nothingness. Stay in the room with the grand piano and flowing waters. No one could bother you there, no one could make you do meaningless tasks without your say, there was no matchmaking, no pointless errands, no suicide missions, there was nobody but yourself there, just you, just you. Luminous wouldn’t be there to make you do his work, he wouldn’t be there swearing to be by your side to help you while simultaneously doing nothing at best and dragging you down at worst. There wouldn’t be a Caesar there to send you on every reconnaissance mission with no backup and no direction. Johann wouldn’t be there to demand information on your past like he had even earned the right to know it, like he didn’t need to earn that right because it should just be given to him. Just you in a place where no one could hurt you.

You looked up from the ground that you had been staring at, bringing your hands up to your neck you squeezed. It wouldn’t work in terms of killing you, you knew that, but it worked as an easy substitute, feeling the pressure of your own hands on your neck, the shortness if not complete lack of breath, the light headed feeling, it served as a less drastic solution for now.

“It’s great to see you all safe and sound!” Eva’s voice cut through the momentary peace that you had found, your hands reflexively letting go of your neck.

“Safe and sound?!” You repeated in disbelief, “What part of any of me seems to be safe and sound?” It felt like she was mocking you. The memories of Herzog’s claws slicing through your spine, through every part of you, flashed then the words ‘It’s great to see you all safe and sound!’ Played over them, those words were the last thing you wanted to hear right now. Why,why,why,why,why is your pain always ignored like this? Why is it always your job to make everything right? You can’t do this anymore! You won’t do this anymore.

Bringing your fist up you smashed at your communicator, “Cassell- will...turn th-this into- into no-nothing more th-th-th-then a dream for every- every- everyone” Eva’s voice though distorted still managed to snake its way out of the thing despite all the damage you had done to it.

"AGH, SHUT UP!" You yell slamming your fist down harder and harder, each time screaming, begging for her to "JUST SHUT UP" You're crying even harder now. The glass that made up the outer layer of the screen. The rest of her words came out broken and jumbled, and even if they hadn't been due to the damage your screaming and shouting would've drowned it out anyways. "STOP. TALKING. JUST. SHUT. UP."

"Caesar helping you to-to-to destroy- criminal underworld.... true story- believe." Your fist paused midair at those words. Caesar had helped to destroy the criminal underworld? That was the story that they were going with? Not even the whole team, just Caesar what kind of absolute bullshit was that. You had done 100 times more then the supposed hero of the story, hell Luminous had done more, fucking Erii had done more. So where did they get off on this- this- you didn't even have a word for it it was so stupid, so stupidly infuriating. Herzog had said that the people from Cassell had experimented on you, and while he wasn't one to be trusted you sure do feel so fucking dumb for defending them. At least Herzog had the common decency to put up an air of kindness. These people just treated you like a convenient tool, something to be used and dealt with as they pleased. Something that didn't need thanks or praise or a break because it was an object meant to be used and thrown away as they saw fit. "Re-re-re-return to takamagahara to say-say-say-say-saysay goodbye-bye-bye to-" Your fist swung down with overwhelming strength shattering the communicator completely. Broken pieces of metal and glass embedded themselves in your hand bringing a fiery pain that slowly destroyed all of you in its wake. You fell even further onto the concrete clutching your hands one in the other relishing a bit sickly in the pain that it brought. Your right palm glowed with the same light it first had when you had accepted Erii's blood. Then it started rejecting the pieces of metal and glass in both of your hands. Slowly pushing them out and healing the cuts instantly once they were out.

Chuckling you flipped over your hands looking at both perfectly healed sides. It was like you had never been hurt in the first place. You marvled at them, twisting them over and over again, bringing them to your neck once again you smiled and closed your eyes. You had no idea what you were. Had you always been like this? An undying freak with special powers? Had Herzog's experiments done this to you? It was obvious that your new healing ability came from Erii's and the light king's combined blood but what about everything else? Had you been born this way? Was it Herzog's half baked evolution pills? Had Cassell truly experimented on you? Z said you had the capability to become a dragon lord now, but what did that mean? What did that make you? Your chuckles turned into full of peels of laughter, your cheeks stinging at the feeling of both the semi dried tear tracks being pulled at as well as the force of your laughter. The peels of laughter soon mixed with pained sobs and you were once again back to crying. You weren't going to put up with this anymore. Dropping your hands you slowly stood up like a puppet on strings. Walking at a slow pace one second in between each step you started walking.

----------------

Anjou is in one of the VIP rooms with a man dressed like a pastor. You don't care what they're talking about, stepping in front of the pastor you look over at him. He takes steps back on his own, unprompted, it's a first but then again you suppose that you probably look like the walking dead, and in a way you were, not to mention that you also felt like it. A lukewarm apathetic haze settled over your emotions as you looked down at Anjou. He's the second person you met after waking up, he's the whole reason you, a freshman at his wacky school that you hadn't even been asked if you wanted to join, were on this mission. How stupid is he? He had sent you, a person who had what he described as 'little control' over your extra skill and who had just woken up after a freeze bath in Siberia on this mission, an SS ranked one that he was hesitant to even send his best students on already. So why had he chosen you? Why did you have to die over and over for a cause you didn't understand and people you don't know. "Freshman." he nodded as though prompting you to speak. He never broke eye contact or even showed any emotions other than a laid back and relaxed expression. It pisses you off. Why is this old dingbat relaxing, kicking back and enjoying his time while your'e such a mess? He gestures for the priest to leave and he does. Leaning forward elbows on his knees he looks you up and down before going back to making eye contact. "What has you so worked up?"

You want to cry, its the closest you've gotten to an 'are you ok' sense waking up but at the same time you wanted no part of a wellness check led by the man in front of you. "Herzog said that Cassell College experimented on me. Is that true?" You can almost make out a hint of surprise in his eyes before he starts laughing. You bight your lips pulling them into your mouth in a desperate attempt to hold back your anger wanting to get your answer first before you rip him a new one.

"Goodness no, why would you ever believe anything that old snake had to say, and here I thought you were a once in a decade genius. I suppose that title still belongs to Johann then." You ball your hands into fists. Its more than obvious that he's making light of the situation. Didn't he know that you had been raised in Black Swan Bay? Didn't he know that Herzog, a man who you had trusted, had experimented on you? Is he incapable of connecting the dots between your trauma and your current situation combined with Herzog's words? No he did know, he knew and he still chose to make light of everything you had gone through. Insinuating if not blatantly saying that you were an idiot for believing that what happened to you once could happen again. Slamming your hand down on the table you levied on him the worst glare you could, the burning behind your eyes letting you know that you probably looked less menacing then you wanted to.

"Where the fuck do you get off saying something like that to me." It's phrased as a question but its really not. It's a challenge for Anjou to defend his words, one he unfortunately takes you up on.

"I understand that this whole mission and especially today has been taxing on your team but that doesn't mean you should and can snap at everyone like that freshman. Take sometime to cool off, go outside and talk to your seniors, hopefully they'll be able to reach you in ways I cannot." He's getting up to leave after his mini lecture, essentially passing you off to be someone else's problem but you wont let him leave that easily. Your hand grabs onto his forearm stopping him in his tracks. For a millisecond you consider punching him. Beating him over the head with one of the glasses on the table, but the part of your brain that still, despite everything, says that you ca't do that to him because he had pulled you out of Siberia's ice who knows how long ago says not to. And it wins.

"I'm not going to apologize for my language-" He cuts you off with a tut of his tongue, now you have no regrets for the words you planned on saying next. Letting go of his arm you continued. "I'm entitled to be angry when an asshole says asshole things. And I'm allowed to curse said asshole out however much I want." You step in front of the exit crossing your arms, you catch a momentary glimpse of your face in one of the metal outlinings of the wall as you do. You truly do look dead, eyes lifeless and lightless, face twisted into a painfully weak version of the you that you wanted to portray. You know that in this position you run the risk of your conversation leaking out of the room but honestly you don't care, like at all. At this point you want to just scream and cry your emotions out. But you can't because you don't want to, you don't want to be any weaker in front of anyone than you already are.

"Freshman-"

"I was raised by Dr. Herzog for so so many years and the whole time he was experimenting on me and everyone I knew. And-and-and you expect me to just trust you when you say that you didn't do anything. You expect me to rule that out as a possibility when you've given me no reason to, not in terms of character or proof. So why would you say that me believing that random strangers who I've known for less then a month and who I, if I'm being honest don't trust, experimenting on me is a dumb fear?" You clutch at your heart bunching up the cloth that protects it. "I just- do you see why thats dumb? Do you see why it makes no sense to me? One day I'm celebrating christmas as normal with my friends the next minute I'm smacked in the face with the fact that the man that I considered a father," you gag a bit on the word, "has been experimenting on me and everyone that I love, that he's been killing all of us as soon as we turn 18 because we wont survive to 22 because of his experiments? Finding out that he thought of us, children he had been raising for years as nothing more then science experiments who had outlived their uses. Do you have any idea how much that fucking hurt? I had to watch everyone die around me while I wasn't able to do anything! Zero even sacrificed her life to save me and I still ended up dying so many times anyways." You're clutching at yourself again, seeking comfort in the only arms that you can trust right now, your own. You're glaring down at the floor trying to blink the tears away. It doesn't work. You're basically two steps away from dry heaving and sobbing. Anjou reaches out his hand, most likely to guide you to sit down but you slap it away. "Don't fucking touch me. You sent me, a freshman who hadn't really even enrolled in your school or been given the choice to do so on a suicide mission with other students and no adult supervision from the college itself. I've died so many times sense waking up. It always hurts, it's never been painless, I've never been thanked and yet you expect me to just what- put my blind trust into you? I spent more time around Chime then I did you and he spent half of the time as Ruri Kazama."

'"Freshman you're hyperventilating you need to calm down."

"I WONT CALM DOWN" You're yelling now, its not the same kind of painful shouting that you had done earlier on the street, this is loud as well yes, but its from a frustrated sadness rather than a devastated anger. "Why did it have to be me? Weren't there other students you could've sent? Adults? Why did it have to be me? You had no reason to trust that I wouldn't kill the others. I had justwoken up and you decided that I was your best choice? You didn't tell me anything you just threw terms out and expected me to understand. You didn't even give me time alone to breathe let alone ask questions." Your chest is tight, you can feel each of your deaths, piercing pain of claws slicing through flesh, the burning heat of bullets, the singeing of fire, being torn to pieces. You can feel it all and it all hurts so much. You want it to stop, you need it to stop. You don't want to hear these people talk like they're your friends like they care anymore. It's all too much, you're almost sobbing now, curling in on yourself to try and mitigate any pain that may come.

"Newbie whats-"

You turn eyes catching onto Caesar, Johann, Luminous and Finger standing behind you. When did they get here, how much did they hear. It burns and it burns devouring everything in sight. All the memories that you have with them that you've been trying to view in a happy light, all of them crumble to the ground in front of you the moment you see them. "SHUT UP, USE MY NAME FOR ONCE WILL YOU?! NEWBIE DO THIS, FRESHMAN DO THAT, YOU HAVE NEVER EVEN ONCE USED MY NAME!" Full on sobbing you bulldoze through every thought that comes to mind yelling them out at the people surrounding you. "YOU'VE NEVER ONCE ASKED ME IF I WAS OK. YOU;VE NEVER ONCE SENT ANYONE WITH ME WHEN YOU SEND ME ON THOSE STUPID SUICIDE MISSIONS. I'M A FRESHMAN A NEWBIE YOU HAD NO REASON TO TRUST ME WITH ANY OF THIS. WHAT WOU;LD'VE HAPPENED IF I HAD DIED AND STAYED DEAD? WHAT WOULD'VE HAPPENED IF I HAD BEEN CAPTURED? WHAT THEN?" You clutch onto yourself harder, seeking even the smallest bit of comfort from the feeling. Your voice has lowered in volume, you no longer have the emotional or physical strength to do anything other than keep your voice above a whisper. "Do you lot remember when Ruri had specifically said that even two of us couldn't handle Herzog alone? And yet you still thought that it would be a good idea to send me up alone, acting like you were tough for taking care of the death servitors at the entrance." You sigh, there are so many other examples you could go through but you also don't want to be here any longer. "What about you Luminous? I get that you had to watch Erii, but making me do everything and anything you could think of by myself while knowing that Johann and Caesar were constantly sending me on missions as well? You even complained that I took too long to do things. Maybe if you did something for yourself for once instead of just saying that you will then running away and hiding like a coward these things wouldn't happen. Maybe then Erii, Chisei and Chime would still be alive and I wouldn't have to deal with- with this fucking guilt!"

"Look I'm sorry about the Erii thing but listen, we had no idea you were feeling like this. You should've come to us-" Finger is trying to mediate, trying to comfort you, but it only makes things worse.

"And how could I have," You croak out, "How could I have trusted that you would listen, that I would get a break? You never even presented the option for me to have any kind of choice in how I carried out my missions let alone not do them at all. I had nothing I still have nothing. I'm presumed dead at best and no longer exist at worst in terms of my original legal documents. And even if I had access to them I'm still 20 years younger then I'm supposed to be." With a watery chuckle you continue, "Even if I did tell you if I was thrown away I wouldn't have any papers to do anything, to get a job, to live a life, I'm completely reliant on the college for everything. Not to mention the fact that I know nothing about the world. If Cassell had deemed me" You shudder at the word "a failure, then I would've had nothing, not information on the world at current, not even an identity." You shake your head walking in between them and towards the exit. "I don't care I'm not doing this anymore. Find some other freshman to be you dog."

You walked out and onto the streets of Tokyo. You glanced back once lamenting the fact that you hadn't gotten to say goodbye to Zero. You turned away glancing in the direction of the convenience store that Luminous would always make you go to to buy Erii's milk. You trudged down the streets of Tokyo back to that place. Hopefully you can buy paper and a pen to leave her a note with what little money you have.

The bell on the store door jingled when you opened it. The man was standing behind the counter as he always was. You're experience with father figures have been lack luster this far but you've always thought that this man gave off the air of one. It made you relax, seeing someone that while familiar wasn't from the orphanage or Cassell. He looked up at you wearing that same smile that he always did. You knew it wasn't for you specifically but rather something that he probably gave all of his costumers but still it made you feel a bit warm inside.

"Hey kiddo you look a bit rough, everything ok?" You take a few steps forward and nod a bit

"I think it will be now. Or at least I hope so." He hums and nods his head at your answer deciding not to pry, a decision you appreciate.

"So then you here for the usual?" You look back at him and glance around the store, you don't see paper or pens of any sort. It's a bit of a let down but you suppose asking wouldn't hurt.

"Ah no actually," Your voice is still raw, and a bit choked up from all the crying and yelling that you did earlier, you hope you don't sound weird." "Do you sell like, um... paper and pens or something like that? I want to write a note to a friend before I leave."

He scratches at his chin mumbling under his breath as he thinks for a few seconds before getting up and going around the store coming back with a bottle of warm milk in hand. He then returns to his spot behind the counter pulling a note pad and pen out from under it. He places the milk next to the writing utensils and pushes them towards you. "Here, milks on the house, I don't sell paper or anything but feel free to use that and leave the note with me. I'll give it to your friend."

You give him a small smile. It's all that you can manage right now. Your eyes burn with tears again. "Thanks, my friends name is Zero she's blonde has blue eyes and is about," you place your hand were Zero's head is about as accurately as you can, "This tall. She has a flat affect and seems kinda emotionless but she really is a sweet girl. Um, her hairs long and she has a big black bow tying it back." The man nods his head repeating your description back to you. After gaining conformation he sticks his thumb up and takes the letter from you promising to hand it to her the moment she walks through the doors of his shop. You thank him one last time and promise to come back there if you're ever in trouble before leaving.

As you walk through Tokyo's streets aimlessly, you repeat the words in your letter, speaking them into the rain. "I hope that we can meet again in a more peaceful time, preferably away from the bay and Cassell as I don't have the best impression of them. With lots of love, your best friend..." You laugh a bit, your words were supposed to be a parody of what Z said to you. You think its fitting for a farewell letter.

You meld into the raindrops after looking back one last time.

[sequinsmile-x]

Riptide

A love story told from two perspectives. One after it is has ended, and the other just as it begins.

Chapter 1: The Beginning 

Words: 3.8k 

Rating: Mature. Major Character Death.

You can either read over on a03, or below the cut. 

I would love to know what you think. 

“I have loved with the breadth of the ocean, and lost with the grief of rainfall.” - Angie Weiland-Crosby ___________________

October 2025

His wake is in the house they shared together. People she both recognised and didn’t mill through their home, giving her and Jack their condolences as they passed by.

Emily’s grief felt oppressive, like she was drowning in it. Every breath she heaved in through her lungs burned in her chest. Hollowing out the place where his love used to live.

She had been through a lot in her life. Her childhood was snatched away from her at 15 in a small clinic in Rome. Ian Doyle had torn through her life twice, leaving disaster behind him both times. The ruins of her life his personal victory, even in his death.

But this, losing Aaron, was by far the worst thing she had experienced. Since the moment she was told he was dead she had struggled to comprehend it, only really believing it when she was taken to see his body. Emily felt numb. She knew she was pushing everyone away but she couldn’t help it. The solitude of her grief helped her just about cope enough to get up in the morning.

“Emily?”

She turns to see JJ standing at the door of Aaron’s home office, having clearly sought her out. Emily would place money on the fact the team was taking it in turns to check on her. Their own grief for Aaron outweighed by concern for her.

“I’m hiding from my mother.” Emily explains from where she is sitting on the couch. “She has no tact and I can’t cope with her today of all days.”

JJ sits next to her and places her hand on Emily’s. She runs a thumb over her knuckles. A gesture Emily thinks is supposed to be comforting, but she can barely feel it. The numbness she has felt the last couple of weeks ever present. Like she was watching life from behind glass, all of her senses muted and warped by grief.

“Em-”

“Don’t ask me if I’m ok. Or say anything kind.” She pulls her hand from under JJ’s and stands, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. Trying desperately to hold herself together, but feeling like she could fall apart any minute. “I don’t think I can take it.”

JJ stands too but keeps a good distance from her friend, respecting the boundaries Emily had put firmly in place the morning after everything changed. “He wouldn’t want this for you, he’d be worried.”

Emily scoffs, but tears fall onto her cheeks anyway. She furiously wipes them away with the heel of her hand. “I wish people would stop saying that.”

JJ’s face crumbles, barely restrained emotion on her own face. “He loved you Emily. You were going to-”

“JJ. I really don’t need you to explain my relationship to me.” Emily says harshly, bitter words falling past her lips to stop her from breaking down. She felt like she hadn’t stopped crying in days. “I have to go check on Jack.”

“Em-”

“He lost his father. The only parent he had left. He’s what’s important right now, everything else can wait.” She turns to leave, hand hovering over the door handle to lead her out of his office and she hesitates to turn back around to look at her friend. “I love Aaron, JJ.” The use of the present tense wasn’t lost on either of them. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone. And he’s gone. I’m never going to get him back and you need to let me deal with that in my way. Okay?”

She leaves the office before JJ can respond. She walks through the hallway of the house she and Aaron had bought together, a photo on the wall making her stop in her tracks. Penelope had taken it on a night out with the team not long after Emily and Aaron first got together. She had just been injured on a case, her shoulder still sore from where she’d been stabbed. Aaron was still fussing, not drinking so he could take her home whenever she was done. He had pulled her onto his lap, his broad chest protecting her shoulder from being jostled by anyone. Occasional whispers in her ear asking how she was slowly driving her crazy. Penelope snapped the photo as she turned her head to admonish him, a loving look on her face.

The squeal that came out of her friend after she took it still echoed around Emily’s head 4 years later. Penelope had passed her phone over, showing them the photo of them looking at each other like no one else existed.

She’s always loved that photo. She had sent it to her own phone immediately and had it printed. Now it made her heart clench in her chest, wishing she could see him again. Their home now felt like a museum of memories, their life together a snapshot in time that would never have been enough, even if they had grown old together. In the two weeks since he had died every part of her wanted to run, to get out and leave this all behind.

She stays despite everything in her screaming to leave. To get out of the house they shared, the city that reminded her of him at every turn. She wants to be somewhere he never had been, in the futile hope that she would one day be able to breathe without it being painful, without her lungs constricting like she was underwater.

She stays. She knows from experience that running away won’t fix anything, that she would just take memories of him anywhere she went. Carried on her skin like tattoos of his affection, etched permanently onto her. And in her worst moments, when having been loved by him felt more like a curse than the blessing it was when he was alive, she wishes she could hate him for it.

Jack is standing with Jessica in the living room. Emily is reminded of watching Aaron and Jack together at Haley’s funeral so many years ago. It was hard to believe that the little boy was now the young man in front of her, back in town from college and clearly wanting to be anywhere else.

He looks so much like Aaron that it steals her breath away.

“Jack.” She says gently as she approaches, a tight smile on her face. Both Jack and Jessica turn to look at her. “I’d ask how you are doing but that’s a stupid question.”

The 20 year old nods at her. “It’s weird. Knowing he’s gone forever.” Jack replies, clearing his throat. “It feels final now.”

Emily agrees, her fingers digging into the skin around her thumbnails. “Where are you staying tonight? You can stay here if you want. Your room is still set up.”

“I’m going to stay with Aunt Jessie.” He says tilting his head towards his aunt. “Thanks, though.” He adds as an afterthought. “Excuse me.” He walks off, having spotted Henry in the corner, and Emily sighs as he goes.

Her relationship with Jack had always been good, but since Aaron’s death it had been difficult. Tense in a way that tore through her. Their mutual love for Aaron was no longer the thing that was the foundation for Emily and Jack’s relationship.

It was that they both believed his death was her fault.

“Emily.” Jessica puts her hand on her arm and squeezes it. “He’ll come around. You know he doesn’t actually think-”

“Thanks, Jess.” She cuts the other woman off, not wanting to hear anything else. She walks off again, desperate for a moment alone.

JJ seeks her out again once most people have left. The team helps tidy up, removing all traces of the wake from her house before they leave. JJ has a plate of food in her hands that was clearly intended for Emily. She places it in front of her on the coffee table and sits next to her.

“I’m not hungry, JJ.”

“Em, please.” She says, worry laced through her voice. “You have to eat something. He wouldn’t-”

“JJ stop.” Emily shouts, finally at her wits end. “Aaron is dead. He’s dead. So it doesn’t really matter what he would want, does it?” She curses under her breath as tears spring to her eyes, and she wipes them furiously away from her cheeks as they fall. She’s aware of the rest of the team around them, stopping their individual tasks and desperately pretending they weren’t listening in.

“Emily-”

“Do you know what I keep thinking about?” She asks, interrupting any more platitudes JJ may have that she simply cannot bear to listen to, she watches as her friend shakes her head. “I keep thinking about when I died. There was nothing. It was dark, and empty. Just nothing.” Emily’s chin wobbles as she tries to keep the emotion in, failing as her next words choke out around a sob. “And I lay there at night, on his side of the bed, and hope it’s different for him.”

This time she doesn’t shy away from JJ’s touch, and allows herself to be pulled into a hug she cannot bring herself to return. ___________________________

Once everyone has gone she lays in bed, on his side, and stares at the ceiling. She is wearing one of his shirts and wonders when all of his clothes will stop smelling like him, when she will lose the last trace she has of him.

Emily closes her eyes, both wanting sleep to come and for it to evade her. Aaron was always in her dreams, mostly good ones. Memories of their lazy mornings in bed together played out during the night in her head. The sound of his laugh as he trailed his fingers down her spine to wake her slowly, his enjoyment at her inability to function first thing in the morning never ending.

The dreams were a blessing. A reminder that it had been real, that she’d had him. They were also a curse. She’d wake with the ghost of his touch on her skin, and for a blissful moment she’d forget he was dead. She’d half expect to see him standing at their bedroom door, coffee in hand with a smile on his face.

Then she would remember, and it was always too much to bear. ___________________________

It’s Dave that comes over. Letting himself into the house with the spare key Aaron had given him, claiming that he felt better knowing other people that they trusted had access to their home in case of an emergency. Emily knew it was a lingering fear he had from when Foyet had broken into his apartment, those memories still sharp in his mind until the day he had died.

A small knock on the bedroom door announces Dave’s arrival a mere second before he opens it. She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t tear her gaze from the dress hanging on the door of the closet. She's sitting on the floor, back pressed up against the side of the bed. Her knees are against her chest, her arms wrapped around them like she was physically holding herself together.

“Did you draw the short straw today, Dave?” She sniffs, wipes her hand across her face to wipe off what felt like ever present tears. “You guys don’t need to check up on me. I’m fine.”

Dave sighs and sits next to her, groaning as he joins her on the floor, his body protesting the movement. “You’re not fine, bella.” He says simply. “And the others don’t know I’m here.”

She can sense his want to help her, sees his fingers twitch out of the corner of her eye as he seemingly tries to figure out if she wants to be touched or not. In the end he settles for leaning against the bed with her, a distance between them just small enough that she can feel his presence. Emily leans her chin on her knees, eyes still fixed on the white dress infront of her.

The dress that, if things had been different, if she hadn’t lost him, she should have worn today. She remembers teasing Aaron about it, telling him just enough about how it fastened up her back, how careful he’d have to be when he took it off to not break any of the delicate buttons.

She fiddles with her engagement ring before she opens her clenched fist to reveal two matching wedding bands in the palm of her hand. The rings they would never get to wear.

“It’s meant to be my wedding day, Dave.” She says, voice breaking around the words that didn’t need to be said. “And he’s not here, he never will be.” ___________________________

June 2021

When Aaron first moves back to Virginia it feels strange, like he was stepping back in time. The first thing he thought of was the team, of her. Once he no longer had to hide his identity he could have reached out. He almost had more than once, this thumb hovering over Emily’s name in his contacts, but he always stopped himself. Unsure what to say, thinking whatever they could have been had passed them by in a flurry of tragic circumstance and bad timing.

He’s back for two weeks when he sees her, and she’s somehow more beautiful than ever. He calls her the next day. ___________________________

Emily shouts at him. A lot. Years of pent up anger and worry spilling out over the phone when she answers, mixed with curse words and sighs in a way that was just so *her* it makes him laugh.

“And what is so fucking funny, Aaron?”

He clears his throat, tries to smother another laugh but doesn’t quite manage it. “Nothing, Emily. I just...I missed you.”

“Well.” She replies. “Whose fault is that.” There’s a pause, and it is just long enough that he thinks she’s going to hang up, leaving their interaction there. Aaron is about to speak and give her an excuse when he hears her sigh. “I missed you too.”

A spark of hope flares in his chest, something he hasn’t felt in a long time. “How about I take you to dinner? My treat. You can yell at me in person.”

Emily laughs at that, and he can picture how her eyes would crinkle with it. She was always so damn beautiful when she smiled. “That does sound appealing.”

“Tomorrow? If you don’t get caught with a case?”

She pauses, and he would bet his life savings if he could see her that she was biting her lip. “Tomorrow.” ___________________________

When she doesn’t get a case, and confirms that she will meet him at the restaurant he suggested, Aaron tries not to overthink it. He tries not to get carried away and think that this could be their chance, that the universe was finally aligning for them.

Emily tells him about her relationship with Andrew, how it had come to an end. Both of them were too set in their ways to truly make room for each other in their lives. He tells her about Jack, how he cannot believe his son is a teenager. The years had slipped by in a way that made him reflective, and she teases him out of his melancholy by telling him stories about the team. Aaron didn’t realise how much time had passed until the waitress came over and gently told them they needed to close the restaurant. Emily exchanges a sheepish look with him when they realise they are the last ones there.

She refuses his offer of walking her home, claiming it was pointless since she lived so far away and that she’d be fine in a cab. He gets a text from her when he gets home himself, an offer of another meal soon, insisting that she pays next time.

For their third date, because that was how he now exclusively thought of their dinners, if only in his head, he purposely choses somewhere near hers so he can walk her home. She narrows her eyes at him as he suggests it, having figured out his game but she allows him to play it anyway.

During the three block walk to her place she slips her hand into his. He turned to look at her but she was pointedly looking ahead, avoiding his gaze. That’s when Aaron realises she wants this as much as he does, and is just as worried about it as he is, what it could do to both of them. Neither of them would ever admit it, but they were both fragile when it came to love. Damage as clear as the scars they both bore on their bodies.

He stops them in the street, now half a block from her building, and stands in front of her, still holding onto her hand. He uses his spare hand to cup her cheek, to make her look at him. She licks her lips, her eyes now staring right into his.

He’d always thought her eyes were beautiful.

Aaron closes the gap between them and presses his lips to hers. She responds almost immediately, tearing her hand out of his so she can cup the back of his head and pull him closer.

It’s years of waiting, of hoping, coming together in a perfect moment. Her hands are in his hair, and his are on her back, pulling her closer as he tastes the dessert they shared on her tongue.

She pulls back, and rests her forehead against his, a laugh escaping her lips before she presses them against his again.

“We should have been doing this for years.” She murmurs against his lips, her hand stroking the back of his head . He mumbles his agreement before kissing her again, unable to help himself now the dam was broken. She suddenly pulls away, lips swollen as she looks at him, seemingly remembering that they were standing in the street still. “Come on, let's go.”

Aaron smiles at her as she tugs his hand, determined to lead him down the street. “Where are we going?”

“To mine.” She says simply, groaning when he comes to a stop, easily stopping her from walking any further. He places a hand on her hip, pulling her closer to him again.

“Em-”

“Don’t ask me if I'm sure.” She says, bringing a hand to his cheek and smiling at him, “We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

That night they lay in her bed, in tangled sheets, fingers trailing over scars they’d both imagined for years. They are reverent with each other, acting as if they are both made of something precious. He laces his fingers through hers as he enters her for the first time, her broken gasp in his ear almost too much for him. When she breaks around him and he follows her over the edge he whispers words of praise into her skin, tells her how perfect she is to him, and he hears her repeating it back to him as her lips press to the scar closest to the top of his chest.

Aaron thinks she has never looked so beautiful as she did when she was curled up against him in her bed, hair in disarray and a sleepy smile on her face. When he tells her as much she scrunches her nose at him and tells him he’s ridiculous, a hand sliding up his chest as he pulls her in and kisses her again.

He stops himself from telling her he loves her that night as she falls asleep in his arms. The promise of their next date being breakfast the following morning dying on her lips as she is lulled into sleep. ___________________________

Emily gets hurt on a case a month later, and it’s bad enough that she ends up in hospital. Dave calls him, and Aaron isn’t even sure how he knew to do so until he says Emily asked for him.

The case was mercifully close by, Aaron jumping in his car to do the two hour drive as soon as he’s off the phone with Dave. A note left for Jack saying what had happened, and a call to Jessica to ask her to look after the teenager that night.

He makes it to the hospital in 80 minutes. A vaguely amused looking Dave meets him at the front desk and tells him that she is fine, that she lost a fair amount of blood to the unsub’s knife and that they were keeping her in for observation overnight.

Aaron doesn’t believe him until he sets eyes on her himself, the door to her room clicking closed behind him. He briefly thinks about the team standing outside her room, the confusion on their faces at him being there, at what he was sure was fear on his face.

“Em, sweetheart.” The nickname slips out before he realises what he is saying, the first time he’s said it, and it makes her eyes brighten at him.

“Hi Aaron.” She tries to smile at him, but the pain lacing through her arm and shoulder means it doesn’t go far. She swallows against her dry throat and she holds out her good hand to him which he eagerly takes, any concerns about the team disappearing as quickly as they had appeared. “It looks worse than it is.”

He raises an eyebrow at her before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Me too.” She smiles up at him. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, Em.” Aaron smiles when she fails to suppress a yawn. “You should get some sleep.”

Emily frowns at him. “You only just got here.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” He runs his hand over her forehead, pushing her hair out of the way. He can’t help but smile when her eyes flutter shut at the first touch of his skin to hers. He keeps the movement across her skin going, watching as her breathing evens out.

“I think I love you.” He whispers, sure she was fast asleep, lulled into unconsciousness by his thumb stroking over her forehead.

She laughs weakly and opens her eyes. “Oh, well I know I love you.”

Aaron leans down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “I love you.” Another kiss. “Now get some sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She closes her eyes, the painkillers in her system making her tired. “I hope you’ll always be there.”

Aaron smiles at the admission, something she would never have said out loud in normal circumstances. He runs his thumb over her forehead again.

“I’ll always be here, I promise.”

(It’s the only promise he ever breaks.)

[sisterofleatherfrog]

The Silence Brings Me Home

Hey! This is my first fanfic so I hope you all enjoy it! I was inspired by an illustration I saw of Crosshair sobbing and holding Lula for comfort (which I cannot find for the life of me, if I do eventually I’ll link it). I meant to get his done before ep. 11 Devil’s Deal (and especially before this week’s) because we still didn’t know what Cross looked like at that point, but I’m slow and here we are. There is some fanart I did at the end, I’ve only recently gotten back into drawing after a long time, so it might be a little rough sorry!

Summary: The Batch get Crosshair back, but what he has, and almost done haunts him. Comfort is given in the simplest of ways: by being presen for the healing.

Warnings: Mention of blood/injury, killing/murder. Heavy angst with comfort. Self loathing ideation.The beginnings of a family healing together from trauma.

Word Count: 2188

It was as close as it got to silent within the Havoc Marauder. The ship always faintly hummed as it cruised through space; the engines and various systems constantly working away in the background via a complicated web of technology and wiring, maintained by the Batch’s resident genius. Rumors were, if someone listened close enough as a ship passed through hyperspace, they could faintly hear the sound of the decillions of particles out there passing around the ship. Something like sand blasting the outside of the hull, but with a bell-like, ringing, song. It was that sort of silence that found all six of the inhabitants within the Marauder.

Tech, the aforementioned genius, was nursing a new goose egg on his forehead with a cold compress while attempting to repair a hairline fracture in one of his goggles lenses. Echo sat across from him helping to guide the nearly blind man in his endeavour. Besides a myriad of small cuts and new bruises, Echo’s left leg lay detached and balanced on his lap, waiting for attention from Tech for a recently smoking blaster hole through the calf. Laying in his bunk, Wrecker was also nursing a new blaster wound: the bolt having ripped through his armour and taken a chunk out of his right bicep. He lay quietly, making sure to stay off his wound so the bacta could do its work and trying to process the events of the day. Remembering the adrenaline and the genuine moment of fear he’d had, but smiling nonetheless. Foreword in the front of the ship, Hunter sat quietly, his face kriffing hurting, his nose having to have been reset after being knocked out of joint. He’d definitely taken a beating, he’d be feeling everything that currently hurt fivefold tomorrow, but the wounds could have been worse. Everything could have been much worse. What could have been was an ache that never faded and a silence that was never filled. 

Hunter’s gaze slid to the seat beside him, looking at the small girl that had so quickly become a priority in his life. Omega was curled up on the seat, her arms and legs tightly squeezing Lula to her body while her eyes peaked over her knees to watch the blue of hyperspace. She had thankfully missed all the action this time, safely tucked away within the ship by a promise Hunter had made her swear. He looked over at her, thankful she and his vode were all together here, alive, and relatively in one piece. Still needing something to comfort him though, he reached over and ruffled Omega’s short blonde hair. Her eyes, brown like his, slid over to look at him and he could see a small smile curling at the edges of her mouth. She’d been incredibly worried at the state her family had been at their return, seeing them beaten, bloody, bruised, and punctured wasn’t something a kid should ever be exposed to. They were alive though, and…

Hunter turned his head a little, gazing into the back of the ship where, almost hidden in the furthest recess of the bunks, he could see a pair of long, thin legs encased in black armour. Omega followed Hunter’s gaze and that smile wavered some as nervousness played over her face. She was happy her family was alive and she was happy that her fathers’ brother had been brought back, but the fear of all that time being hunted lingered like a dark cloud on the horizon in her mind. Omega knew it wasn’t Crosshair’s fault. The chip wasn’t something that the host could reason with; locking them far away in the back of their own minds. From the little she could get from what she’d heard, he could be mean, but wasn’t inherently malicious. Everything he’d done in his hunt for them under the Empire was a stripped version of himself- the man was gone but the shrewd soldier remained.

…

Waking up in that dingy medbay was one of the most disorientating moments of Crosshair’s life. He was… a man again, something that thought independently from orders given. But good soldiers follow orders. He wasn’t a drone though. But you are a soldier... Yes, he was, but something else guided him, rather than his superiors he’d always looked elsewhere- 

“He’s awake!” The call came from nearby, as did the sound of several pairs of feet rushing in. He knew that voice, but reacted on instinct to the people closing in and jerked his head up, ready to defend, no, attack- Hunter was there, the closest, he was one of his targets-

...So follow through.

No!

Revulsion rose so strongly within himself that everything in his mind that wasn’t his own shrank back like frightened animals, leaving him gasping with an acrid taste in the back of his mouth and a feeling of bile rising in his chest. Pitching sideways he landed gracelessly twisted on the metal floor and began heaving, unable to tell if anything came up at all; not able to remember when the last time he ate was, only feeling a burning in his stomach. Hands gently touched his back but he jerked violently, seeking to remove that touch even if it wasn’t a punishment. When was the last time he’d been given that understanding? When had somebody last cared that his body needed tenderness? It felt unnatural to him now, no longer familiar, and painful.

Voices filtered through as the haze of sickness cleared: “...scans indicate the procedure was a complete success and that he should recover the same as us. Crosshair’s reaction is due to something else entirely.” Tech, he’d know that voice always rattling away with statistics and diagnostics. He’d almost silenced it forever with a single shot- how long ago was that? How long had it been since the ion engine had left him broken and the Kaminoans had pieced him back together, fit him with an eye that didn’t quite measure up to his shooting one and left him always a little off balance? 

“Crosshair? Vod?” Hunter now, “Are you with us?” Crosshair felt him kneel next to him and could see his concerned face in his peripheral vision now that his initial haze had begun to fade. 

He considered himself for a moment now that the remains of whatever had been in his head were gone. “Yes, I’m here.” Physically, but everything felt so strange. He could hear Wrecker roaring something nearby, probably his loud approximation of a greeting, but he made no move to meet it, didn’t (couldn’t) move himself to. At this, Hunter motioned for him and the others to back off a little before speaking again. “That’s good, we finally caught you and your inhibitor chip is gone now. You’re going to be fine, we’ve got you.” Fine? After everything Crosshair really didn’t think so.

…

Despite the best possible outcome the Batch made their way back to the Marauder, from another downed Jedi cruiser they’d managed to locate thanks to Rex, in an unwieldy silence. Back on the ship they all finally began to address their variety of wounds, and Crosshair, seeing this, froze. This was all him. This was his fault. He had hurt his vod, brought them pain, tried to kill them. He felt sick again, felt as if he was dropping out of his body while his heart constricted painfully and began to race in a clumsy gallop. Crosshair stayed where he was in the back of the ship and sat while somebody got it under way, finally feeling the vague reeling in his gut from entering hyperspace. 

It was quiet, nobody made a move to approach him yet. He didn’t know if he even wanted one of them to get close. Everything felt so wrong. He was wrong. What he’d done, betrayed and tried to murder his family, all because of an order?! Him, who flicked his toothpicks at commanders and belonged with a group of defective clones, couldn’t defy an order. Kriff him. One simple pull of a trigger and it could have been any one of them. If he hadn't missed, it could have been Tech’s brain matter splattered over the hull of a downed starship. His vod who was so much like an over-eagre younger sibling. Or Wrecker, who Crosshair had teased and soothed in equal measures in his life. Or Echo who, even though he wasn’t modified like the Batch, could never be normal again and Crosshair had learned to respect him as a brother. And Hunter… he couldn’t think it, couldn’t parse a world where he was dead, where he had been responsible for his death. 

Kriff him. How did he- how did he go on alongside his brothers when he’d almost done that? When he’d always be haunted by the pitiless voice in his head (his own, that had ordered the death of innocents) that had repeated his mission as a mantra. He could scrub his skin forever with the harsh scourer he used to clean his armour, but this isn’t something he could wash away. Whether it be in the new scars that had accumulated on their bodies, or the cybernetic eye that now greets him in the mirror, there would be no losing this. No taking it back or making it better. He couldn’t- he should-

A black mass came into his sight and he jumped. Lula was being offered to him in two small hands. The girl, what was her name again? She’d spoken to him when they were all in the cell on Kamino together (the last time they were all together where he wasn’t trying to kill the rest of them). She’d told him it wasn’t his fault, had she known what was working against him in his head? It didn’t matter now. The girl-Omega, that was her name- watched him partially hidden behind the tooka doll with the eyes of his brothers. 

“Here” She said, her kaminoan accent still strong after all the time she’d been running, “Wrecka’ lets me borrow her when I’m upset, I don’t think he’ll mind if you do too.” 

Crosshair looked at the old, scuffed doll and noticed a stitch in grey forming a cuff on it’s left arm. It had been a dumb scuffle over his and Wreckers continual rivalry and it had ended up with Lula getting the worst of it. He’d stayed up all night trying to make his stitches even and neat, not wanting to ruin the doll. He touched those stitches, gently tracing the line they made before gently grasping it and curling forward, needing to wrap the aching sore that was himself around something. Omega slipped onto the seat next to him and leaned into his left, he wanted to flinch away but something about this gave him... grace. He’d ordered the men under him to aim for her fragile little body and yet here she was offering him comfort through it’s support.

What comfort did he deserve though? What did he deserve indeed. Crosshair gazed unseeingly at the floor, trying to piece the parts of him left scattered in a thousand memories together to once again become the man he was before all this. He startled again when another body suddenly pressed itself into his right side. He turned, a masque of death greeted him, etched into a face permanently carved stern, but the eyes- Hunter’s eyes reminded him of the rail-thin cadet he used to be, not built to fight off any clones who wanted to get a piece of him on his own. He wasn’t alone back then though, three other boys were always there to back him up, and they would patch each other’s wounds together in their quarters afterwards. Hunter, their de-facto leader, was always worried about the hits they’d taken, not relaxing until every bump was seen to and bandaged. It was that look again, that same look that said: ‘I’m staying right here until I know my brothers are going to be fine.’

Some more shuffling in the ship Tech and Echo came into view, the latter still short a leg and being supported over to sit across from him. They didn’t say anything, but Tech came and sat in front of Omega on the floor, letting himself rest against Crosshair’s legs. Echo didn’t move to touch him, but remained in his presence just the same and gently smiled, his posture relaxing to lean against the wall of the berth. Just visible from behind a corner, Wrecker gingerly turned over with his injury, meeting Crosshair’s gaze with a smile already there for him. His injury prevented him from rising, but he extended a large hand towards him from his bunk. He was too far to physically reach him, but the gesture translated anyway: ‘I’m here brother, I missed you, I was worried.’ 

The Marauder sang through hyperspace; no words were spoken by anyone aboard for a long time. But this silence was familiar, and even though he felt a long way from having earned it, Crosshair could understand it perfectly: ‘Welcome home.’

Here’s Crosshair as in the story, I thought it would be really cool if he and Wrecker had matching cybernetic eyes. I gave him his ep. 11 haircut though because it’s cool.

[anoutlandishfanfic]

Metamorphosis Chapter 27: Nesting

Huzzah!! I’m so excited to finally bring you Chapter 27!! You can catch up on where we left off in Ch26 HERE (since its been awhile), or head on over to the master list. Metamorphosis is also up to date at AO3!

The Premise: What if Claire had conceived on her wedding night with Jamie? How would that change the plot points we all know and love?

Ch27 fits in the Season One finale episode of the show, or towards the end of the book timeline. Claire and Jamie have OFFICIALLY left Scotland’s shores and are on their way to safety in France!

Claire. Midday, February 21st, 1744; Somewhere in the English Channel

I shifted cautiously on the outrageously uncomfortable crate my husband had deposited me on, trying not to make any noise, but it creaked and groaned just as much as my aching joints were at present — tattling my discomfort to Jamie, who I swore had batlike hearing.

“I have the bucket jus’ here,” Jamie commented cautiously from somewhere behind me, alluding to the fact that I had absolutely nothing left in my stomach after several bouts with the receptacle.

“Do ye need it again?”

“No,” I bit out as the muscles in my lower back spasmed, a band tightening around my waist with an increasingly bothersome intensity.

What I needed was to move around… to be able to stretch my stiff limbs and appease my offended muscles. I voiced this suggestion — a slow turn about the room with assistance — and a sudden, Scottish noise of amused non-committance sounded from my left.

Snapping my head in Murtagh’s direction, I found him bracing his weight casually against a post, one arm raised as he held onto a beam just above his head. The ship heaved just then and I could see the tendons in his wrist tighten as he steadied himself.

He caught my gaze and lifted brow as if to say ye’d fall on yer arse in a moment, lass.

I sighed, abandoning his support and craned my neck in search of my husband. The room was dim and stacked high with crates and bundles, easy enough to lose track of a bored yet always curious Jamie.

He’d made no comment in support or negation of my request, but was currently choosing to remain out of sight.

“What are you up to over there, anyway?” I eventually huffed when it became clear that neither of them had any intention of helping me.

“Ach, tis nothin’,” he tried to dismiss my attention, which piqued Murtagh’s in turn and drew the older man to his side like a magnet.

“Just a wee bit of putterin’ to pass the time is all.”

An amused sound of delight came from the elder of my two companions and I heard him slap Jamie on the back… hard.

Making no effort to hide my amusement, I heard my husband begin to protest the joyful abuse befallen him but his words were interrupted by Murtagh’s enthusiastic, “Now how’d ye manage that, ye wee fiend?!”

There was an exchange of heated Gaelic conversation — so overlapped that I was confident I’d have a hard time following even if they were speaking English — and then I quite suddenly found myself being lifted by my elbows and carted off to the other side of the room!

I objected strongly as my hips screamed in protest at their pace and was about to dig my heels in and balk completely when we came to a screeching halt before what looked remarkably like a bed.

“How the bloody fucking hell—“ my voice broke and I stared down at my husband’s miracle in disbelief, then turned to look up at him in awe.

“God, I love you, James Fraser.”

Murtagh cackled with glee at this and Jamie bent his head to kiss me in support of my declaration. I expected a quick peck on the cheek or a rather brief smooch on the lips — we didn’t exactly have the room to ourselves — but was taken aback by a kiss that made a thrumming warmth begin to grow between my legs. The heat spread across my hips and up my spine, loosening my muscles and made me feel quite suddenly completely and utterly exhausted.

I sighed as he pulled away, inquiring, “When can I crawl in?”

“Now if ye like,” one shoulder rose in a shrug and Jamie explained his construction plans. “That is, if ye dinna mind us building a wee fence around ye.”

“A fence?” I stared up at him incredulously.

“Oh, aye!” This came from Murtagh. “We canna have ye rollin’ aboot, now can we?”

Jamie caught the glare that his godfather missed entirely — being that he stood between the two of us — and bit his lip in a failed effort not to betray the mirth that clearly bubbled up inside him.

“Think of it more as a wee nest than a paddock, Sassenach,” he chose his words more carefully, then realized he quite liked them and patted my arm rather patronizingly. “A wee nest for my mother hennie, aye?”

“As long as I’m not a wallowing sow,” I grumbled, making Jamie choke in an effort to conceal a laugh.

This assuaged me a good deal and I felt myself smile a bit as I prodded him in the ribs, “Are you going to help me with my shoes or am I to track mud all over your beautiful nest?”

Jamie perched me on a nearby crate and knelt to shed me of my shoes. There wasn’t much to the flimsy things and what they were composed of was now completely sodden in mud and sea water that they all but fell off my feet with his guidance. He set them neatly aside and began to rub my aching feet, bringing warmth and a rush of blood back into the extremities with a burning pins and needles sensation.

I winced and his face contorted in contrition.

“Christ, I’m sorry, a leannan,” he crooned, keeping up his blessed work. “Ye deserve a proper bed and a fire ragin’ in the hearth…  no’ this lumpy mess wi’ barely even a plaid to keep ye warm.”

Reaching out my hand, I brushed the curls from his brow and cupped his cheek in my palm, “You know I’m not above sleeping on the ground.”

Though I thanked my lucky stars it wouldn’t come to that just now.

“And I have you to keep me warm,” I nudged him with my toe, making Murtagh cough behind me.

Jamie gave him a look, but his gaze softened as it returned to me, “Aye, well, I only wish I could give ye more.”

My hand moved to the place where one of the baby's heels pressed sharply against my side and I reached for him. His hand moved to mine, slipping beneath it to feel the life within.

“You’ve given me more than I could ever dream,” I whispered hoarsely.

…

Jamie.

“Lay with me?”

The flicker of uncertainty in Claire’s eyes cut me to the quick.

Did she really think I wouldn’t?

Nodding, I made quick work of my own filthy shoon and dropped them beside the entrance to the cove of safety Murtagh and I had built for her.

Her wee nest.

The thought warmed me and brought a smile to my lips as I gingerly crawled in beside my wife.

“Always, mo nighean donn,” I assured her, arranging the plaid around us both as I curved my form around hers.

It dawned on me in an instant that it wasn’t my presence she doubted… it was her ability to fall asleep. She looked dog tired and pale as any winter’s snow, but now that I had her in my arms, her restless spirit was made clear.

Claire shifted her hips, first this way then another, always finding it unsuitable and moving back… then tried adjusting her head and shoulders, first moving closer to me — I received a an accidental elbow to the ribs but didn’t comment — then away again, all without success until she was left completely spent and utterly exhausted.

I had loosened my arms around her, giving her full range of motion to seek the best position for sleep, but now that I knew this was an impossible task — I thought I might have a try.

Pulling her close without ceremony, I tucked her head neatly beneath my chin and curled my knees up to surround her completely. I felt the taut muscles of her back and shoulders begin to loosen against my chest as I twined my fingers between hers, our clasped hands resting gently atop the swell of our children.

A deep, shuddering sigh left her and I knew she’d not last much longer. I squeezed her hand gently, whispering, “I’ve got you, Sorcha… you can rest now, all is well.”

Another ripple of fatigue ran down her spine, her muscles slowly succumbing to the heavy weight of slumber and becoming limp. The vice grip on my forearm loosened, her head slipping back and resting fully against my arm. Her lips parted softly in that first sigh of sleep — in the way of hers that I found so irresistible — and I knew she’d not wake for anything save the second coming of Christ Himself.

I tucked a stray curl back into place behind her ear, brushing a kiss across her cheek, and settled myself more comfortably beside her.

My eyelids were growing heavier and heavier as I caught sight of my godfather. He’d positioned himself between us and the door, far enough away as to give us a measure of privacy but close enough to respond to a call for assistance at the drop of a hat. Everything about his rigid posture made me lose my resolve to stay alert beside my wife and sleep came crashing down around my ears.

It was a shallow, dreamless slumber — the sort where you know you mustn’t drift too far, should you need to be fully wakeful again — and I didn’t think I’d been out long before Claire began to stir in my arms.

She curled inwards, her knees tucking up tight against the swell of our children as a low groan escaped her lips.

The nightmare.

We were each cursed with our own nocturnal demons, but my wife found hers to manifest themselves in reoccurring dreams... the most prominent and prevalent being the one born in the depths of Crainsmuir’s Thieves Hole. It hadn’t stopped twisting and turning in these many months and I would be lying if I said my blood didn’t run cold when she’d tell me of the night’s latest development, sobbing into my chest as though both the bairns and I were truly gone.

“Shh, mo chridhe,” I murmured low, curving myself around her. “Tis but a dream… I’ve got ye.”

Her entire body tensed and her eyelids flickered, but she didn’t wake.

Sweeping away the curls from her brow, I gently brushed my finger along the curve of her cheek, intoning, “Ye’re safe, Sorcha.”

Claire’s eyes opened at her name, yet stared ahead unseeing. The muscles of her jaw worked as she clenched it tight and a short burst of air left her nose in a decided snort. Her hands moved restlessly, reaching for me but then drifting back to her stomach, only to roam up and down and nearly every direction at once.

I covered one hand with my own, twining my fingers through hers — not speaking again, but letting her know I was aware of her turmoil.

Her head snapped towards me at my touch, her eyes widening as wheezed, “Jamie!”

“Aye,” I shifted onto one elbow, bringing my face directly above hers as I hovered above her. “I’m right here… I’ve got you.”

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut again without comment.

Was she fully conscious?

“Claire?” I tested, gazing down at her in concern as her jaw clenched tight.

She didn’t open her eyes so much as a crack but let out a grumbled fuck from between persed lips. I dropped her hand, my own flying to her face. Her eyes did open then at my touch, ever so slightly, and she peered up at me in agony.

Something was terribly wrong.

“Talk to me, Claire,” I begged, my heart racing.

Shoving me away, she thumped the narrow space in front of her and groaned, “Move over here.”

I scrambled around her, careful not to jostle her from her current position but finding it near impossible to wedge myself between her knees and the wall of crates behind me. Somehow managing to accomplish it, I lay nose to nose with her and could now see her flushed face in startling clarity in our deeply shadowed cocoon.

Her breathing remained ragged, with drops of sweat gathering at her temples as she lay rigid in my arms.

“Tell me wha’ to do, mo nighean donn.”

“Make it stop,” her voice cracked, the jagged edge of her supplication knifing across my heart and flaying me wide before her.

My mind spun as my thumb caressed her cheek, wiping away the sudden dampness that I found there. Skimming my hand along her neck and down her spine, I found the fastenings of her skirts and had them free in a moment. I bunched them loosely around her, keeping her warm, but no longer restricting her. I moved to do the same for her stays, but found she’d already started the process.

Pulling the strings completely free, I flung the constricting thing to the side and took her face in my hands.

“A wee bit better?” I tentatively asked, knowing it was nothing compared to the turmoil inside her.

She didn’t respond, having instead retreated miles within herself in the time it took me to undress her, and I did the only thing I could think of to retrieve her.

Kissing her softly to begin with — not wanting to jar her and giving her full opportunity to refuse me — I cupped her cheek in my palm. She shifted, seeking more of me, and I grew more confident in my ministrations.

I slid my fingers into her hair and slowly gathered each pin, intently undoing the neatly coiffed style she’d worked so hard on this morn as I worked to rid the tension from her body. Setting my bounty aside, my hands traveled back down to her hips, digging my thumbs into the muscles that I knew continually plagued her.

A moan bubbled up from deep within her and I knew I was moving in the right direction.

“Aye, tha’s the way,” I crooned as her arms slipped around my neck, her nose nuzzling my cheek.

“Damn it, Jamie,” she sobbed against me. “It hurts.”

I didn’t comment, but nodded and kissed her again, keeping my hands moving as well. A shudder ran down her spine as she nearly swallowed me whole, finding suddenly a respite — an ability to draw from me that which she needed.

And I was only too eager to give it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, her arms loosened around my neck...the taut muscles beneath my fingertips became lax and Claire became limp once more in my arms.

“A dhia, mo chridhe,” I sighed, my lips moving against her neck, “ye scared the life near out of me.”

I felt her groan, her voice dry as she quipped, “Well, it was no picnic for me either, you bloody Scot.”

A measure of relief washed over me, hearing her vocal jab, but reality still hung heavy in the air.

“Tha’ was different, Sorcha,” I whispered hoarsely, my good fingers splaying wide across the curve of her children. “The other pains ye had at the Abbey… they were’na like that.”

Her grip on my arm tightened as she tipped her head back, needing to see my face as much as I needed to see hers. Lifting one hand to my face, her fingers deftly traced my cheek bone, her eyes gazing deep into mine. They were now free from the fog of pain, but instead of clarity, I found agonized turmoil.

I covered her hand with my own, curling my fingers around it as I turned my face to place a kiss in her palm.

…

Claire.

How I longed to close my eyes and slip back into that blessed, deep slumber in my husband’s arms… but every inch of me was now wide awake, whether I liked it or not.

I was now having bonafide contractions… whether I liked it or not.

Swallowing hard, I felt a shudder run down my spine and Jamie instinctively pulled me closer. I did close my eyes then, turning and burying my face in his neck as I hid from his gaze for a moment.

He knew — damn him — without me having to say it out loud. I was rather glad, for I wasn’t entirely sure I could say the word ‘labor’ aloud just now without dissolving into hysterics.

What the bloody hell are you going to do, Beauchamp? I mentally sighed against Jamie’s chest.

Was I really going to have to do this without a midwife? Twice? And while bobbing along in a dingy at sea?!

“Jamie?” my voice cracked, betraying my abject terror.

His hand traveled up my back, lifting to gently curve around the back of my head, “Mo chridhe?”

My mouth opened and shut like a floundering fish, no longer suffocating from the strength of my contraction but the size of my fear. A low rumble started up within him and I knew in an instant he’d heard my unspoken thoughts.

“Aye,” he acknowledged, softly kissed my brow. “But ye canna change things any more than I can make this ship sail faster… although, I’d get out and swim it to France if I thought t’would get ye there faster.”

I couldn't help but smile at that particular image and Jamie must have taken great comfort in it, for he continued.

“Tis my fault, ye ken… I should no’ have taken ye in such a manner last night.”

I snorted, finally moving to look at him once more, “If you recall, James Fraser, I brought you to that pool with the exact purpose of taking you in such a manner… so don’t you dare apologize for it.”

His shoulders began to shake in suppressed laughter and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Care to share what’s so funny?” I poked him in the ribs.

“You are Sassenach,” he grinned, easily taking hold of both my hands to prevent future attacks and squeezed them gently. “Ye’ve never wanted me so badly… or so openly as ye did last night.”

“Oh,” I commented quite lamely, finding myself blushing for the first time in quite a while.

This made my husband laugh all the harder and I resorted to kicking him in the shins as he currently had possession of my hands.

“Will you help me sit up or are you just going to lie there and find humor in my depraved state?” I quipped, raising a brow.

Jamie eagerly agreed to this and dropped my hands, easily moving himself into a seated position before guiding me into the same. I sat beside him, swaying slightly, and realized a half a moment later that we were completely alone in the captain’s quarters.

“Where’s Murtagh?” an uneasy feeling began to grow in the pit of my stomach as I asked.

“Tis nothin, Sassenach,” Jamie tried to reassure me, but it was clear that he wasn’t overly comfortable with his godfather’s absence either. “Jus checkin’ in wi’ the Captain is all… he’ll ken how long til we reach Le Havre when he gets back.”

The urgent, persistent twinge started up again at the base of my spine and I swore under my breath.

“Too long,” I pronounced, reaching for Jamie’s arm and taking a firm hold of it.

He studied me for a moment, then nodded and took a deep breath.

“Then we’ll take it one step at a time… aye?” His hand covered mine, “Together.”

...

Murtagh. A Good Deal Later.

The door swung closed behind me with a solid bang, shutting out a snowy stramash unlike any I’d ever seen. The warmth of the Captain’s quarters rolled over me like the tumultuous sea outside its walls and I sagged against the door for a moment, letting it thaw my fingers and tip of my nose.

Hrmph, I snorted, wiping the dripping appendage on my sleeve and ridding myself of near an inch of snow and ice.

“Tis jus’ me,” I greeted, unable to see them from the room’s one and only entrance.

I heard movement and subdued voices, but no answer to my call. Frowning, I quickly navigated my way around boxes and crates until I reached them — and stopped dead in my tracks.

“Iffrin,” I muttered as I took in the pile of Claire’s discarded clothes and found her in nothing but her shift and Jamie’s plaid, clinging to him as if life itself depended on it.

Her time had come.

I raked a hand across my face and sank down onto the closest crate. It was lower to the floor than I thought, making it seem as though it weren’t there at all, and a wheezing oof left my lips as my hind end finally found it.

When I looked up, both Jamie and Claire were gazing at me with no small amount of amusement. I disregarded my godson’s jesting smile with ease and instead turned my attention to the young woman who had stolen both our hearts.

Her face was pale, with furrows etched deep in the usually smooth plane of her brow. The spark of amusement in her eyes was dwindling quickly and in its place grew a consuming agony that I couldn’t bear to see.

“Yer pains have begun, then, mo leannan?” I asked unnecessarily, my voice hitching at the endearment she’d earned in our time together.

Claire nodded, trying to give me her best attempt at a smile. It wobbled and faded as she pressed her forehead against Jamie’s, her eyes sliding shut as she commented hoarsely, “They seem to be in a hurry.”

My heart turned over, skipping a beat before clattering on again as I heard the Captain’s words echo in my mind.

We’ll be lucky to find Le Havre at all in this storm… twould be another day a’ least on fair seas, but now? Best be prayin tha’ my men dinna toss yer lady overboard to appease Neptune himself.

Jamie’s gaze found mine again, this time much more subdued, and asked, “What’d ye learn, then?”

I lifted one shoulder and tried to wave him off. It was nothing I wanted to share while Claire was in such a state.

“A goistidh?” he insisted, lifting a brow.

Taking his cue, I slipped into the Gaelic, telling him of my conversations with the Captain and his superstitious men. He took it about as well as I had, working to keep his frustrations in check as Claire seemed to regain some composure and alertness.

“I dinna think we’ll make it in time,” Jamie kept his voice even, but his unease was palpable. “We’ll have to help her deliver the bairns.”

While I’d expected as much, his second pronouncement took me completely by surprise and I burst, “We?! Ye canna be serious, lad! She needs a midwife, not a couple of numpties wi’ no idea what they’re about!”

Claire sighed heavily and I realized too late that I’d said that in English. I began to apologize, but she waved me off, interrupting me.

“You may have no idea what you’re about, my dear Murtagh,” she muttered, seeking a comfortable seated position, “but Jamie does because I’ve told him what will need doing… and you’ll listen to him and do as he says, is that clear?”

She’d stopped shifting to spear me with a look that had me agreeing in an instant.

The look of relief on her face was nearly my undoing and I assured her, “I’ll do whatever ye need, mo rùinean beag...  I promise it.”

Claire reached out her hand to me and I plucked it up, brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

“I know you will,” she whispered hoarsely, squeezing my hand. “You always do.”

[bloodpenned]

Kylar fic anon here.

Decided to write a little prequel to the Kylar fic since it seemed in demand.

--------------------------------------------------

You wish you had believed Bailey when they said your kindness would kill you one day. Maybe then you wouldn't have ended up in some psychopath's basement, in a room barely big enough to keep you from suffocating.

You were just trying to be nice, when you helped Kylar gather his things after that fight, and when you seeked him out even after that. He looked so small and lonely, as he sat on that park bench alone. He kind of reminded you before you met Robin. And just like Robin had helped you out of your misery, you wanted to help him too.

And look where that had gotten you.

Your eyes were heavy with unshed tears and your throat felt like sandpaper from all the screaming you had been doing when you still had hope that someone would hear you.

Why did God let this happen to you? Was this punishment for something you had done? Was this some sort of necessarry sacrifice? But instead of being nailed to a cross you were tied to a chair, the ropes eating at your skin, slowly burning into your flesh with each passing day.

You didn't know if it was a good thing that they didn't hurt anymore. In fact you could barely feel them, much like your own body.

He told you he would only sedate you, but you knew in your soul you wouldn't get up from here on your own accord again. The sounds of the television felt too faint, your own limbs too foreign, keeping your eyes open too much of a chore to even entertain the idea that you were doing anything but dying.

You were thinking about Robin as the warm embrace of death enveloped you. You wished you could've seen them once more. Heard the melody of their voice or even allowed yourself to hold their hands in yours.

How cruel that what everyday was once felt like a daydream now. You at least hoped you could carry their memory with you to the other side.

But before eternal sleep had finally taken you, you saw something from the corner of your eye. The turning of your head felt like an eternity, and through the mist of death you met the gaze of a shapeless figure tucked in human's clothes. You didn't know where to look for their eyes, but you felt them burning into your skin.

For a moment you wondered if it was death themselves when it approached. It's hands felt like water splashing on your skin as they undid the binds of your wrists and legs.

'I'm ready.' you said.

'I'm not here to take you.' they responded in a voice that sounded like everything you've ever heard and nothing at all.

'Who are you then? Are you a ghost?'

'I'm here to offer you a deal, child.'

'Are you the Devil then? I heard they do this sort of thing.' your voice cracked from the sudden pressure of speaking so much again 'And what kinda deal you offering me?'

'Like the sort your so-called Devil makes. You get something, anything your heart desires, really, and I receive something in return.'

'Can you make it that this whole ordeal doesn't happen? Me getting kidnapped, I mean. Can you do that?'

'Of course I can. I' m not a charlatan, when I say I can give you anything, I can actually deliver upon my word.'

'Alright. You can work out the details, just do it fast. I don't want to be here anymore.'

'What exactly do you want me to do?'

'I already told you!' you felt like crying. Whether this thing in front of you was just a death-induced dream, or actual reality, you wanted to see the end of this, and fast.

'I need details.'

'I don't know, turn back time or something. Just get me out of here already.'

'Here is what I tell you.' it said as it leaned onto the chair you still didn't have the chance to stand up from 'It takes the human soul about two weeks in your time to leave the body. When your soul leaves, I will turn back the clock.'

'How much?'

'Two weeks before this should do fine for you, right? November 3rd.'

November 3rd. You didn't remember what you did on that day, you don't even know what day of the week it was. It was just an ordinary day for you, one like any other before all this.

It was perfect.

'And what do you want in return?'

'I would ask for your soul, but you have something else you could give me. Something you don't even realize you have.'

'What?'

'His soul.'

'Whose soul?'

'The one who got you down here. That shabby kid, whatever their name was.'

'How could I give you his soul?'

'Well, he gave it to you. Don't you remember how many times he gave you ownership over himself? His heart, his body, his money. And not to leave out, his soul.'

'It doesn't work like that.'

'Words hold power. It does work like that.'

It extended its hand towards you.

'So, what do you say?'

'Will he be aware that I did this, if I give you his soul?'

'No, but if you choose to give his over yours, I can't erase his memories of what happened here.'

'What will happen to him, if I-'

'Choose now, I don't have all day.'

A long moment passed as you eyed its hand, and then looked down at your own. Ropeburns bloodied your wrists, the red liquid and little pieces of wood stuck under your nails from struggling.

You stared into the shapelessness of its face as you next spoke.

'His soul.'

'His soul.' it repeated as you shook its hand.

It all faded to black within a second. Warmth surrounded you.

For a moment you suspected you died and the mysterious entity was a just a desperate fragment of your imagination. Wouldn't have been the first time life gave you useless hope.

But then the warmth shifted. You could feel it snuggling into your side, it's long, bony hands wrapping around your abdomen.

Then it felt as though every joint and cell in your body had burst open at the same time, a painful firework of emotions flooding into you as you sat up, heaving like an animal, grabbing onto anything to was around you like a madman.

Something fell to the floor, and light blinded you.

'Did you have a nightmare?' the person asked as they stood up from the floor, hands leaving the burron of your nightlight.

'Robin?' you asked, not daring to look at them 'Is that you?

'Yeah, sorry I startled you. Should've came in when you were still awake.'

You were speechless for a second, when you finally dared to look at them. You had never seen someone so beutiful in your life before.

'It's fine. Everything' s fine.' you said as your gaze fell to your lap, tears slowly beginning to gather in the corner of your eyes.

The bed shifted as they climbed bad onto it, their arms embracing you, hands pulling your head to their chest.

'Did you have a nightmare?'

'No, nothing like that.' you smiled up at them 'Or maybe yes, I don't know anymore.'

'Alright. But if anything is wrong you should talk to me. Always.'

You pulled away only when your sobbing subsided and your heart calmed down enough that its hammering stopped hurting your ribs.

'We' re barely past midnight. Let's get some sleep.'

And the two of you settled bad onto your bed, with their arm over you and your head buried in the curve of their shoulder.

'Robin?'

'Hmm?'

'What day is it?'

'Wednesday.'

'No, the date.'

'November 2nd, I think. No, that was yesterday. It's the third now.' they said 'Why, was there an assigment due nowadays that I forgot about?'

'No, you're fine. Everything' s fine.'

A smile was plastered onto your face as you drifted off to sleep.

well, here's your answer, anon!

[feymaid]

Hey guys! I wrote this a million years ago to fill the angst hole in my heart over what happened at the Lazaret and the drama of it all especially during Lucio’s route. With that being said, please read at your own risk since this deals with some heavy stuff from my apprentice’s past as well as the scary emotions that come after discovering the guy you’ve been actively flirting with indirectly killed you and your loved ones. :D

TW: *abuse. blood. death*

She’s shaking. It is only when they reach the shoreline that she takes a deep breath and gives herself a brief embrace. It takes everything in her not to jump into the boat and start paddling away on her own. She can’t do that. She steadies her body as she moves a foot into the boat. She hesitates and retracts her step. She needs to wait for him. The sun begins to set and darkness slowly creeps over the island, the dead trees above their heads cast spindly shadows on their faces. She had barely spoken to him since they had arrived at the Lazaret and she doesn’t know if she would ever be able to find her voice to express what she was feeling. Every time she thinks she can form words, her bottom lip starts to tremble and it takes all her strength to not start crying. 

In that moment, Pocus had never looked so small, or so far away. Even when they’d been in the palace, even then, she had been close. Bright, full of life and burning. But here? With her trembling fingers, her expression void of emotion? The way she curls in on herself? The sorrow that fills her stomach makes her want to vomit. 

For the first time since they had met, Lucio was silent. She had walked off ahead of him before he probably had processed what was going on. He was only a few strides behind her but even he seemed to know better to keep his distance. She didn’t break her eye contact with the ocean even as she felt his presence stop just behind her. She waited for him to move towards the boat.  They would be silent and never speak of this again. He would take her home and she would never seek him out. It would be easy and she would forget this. She would forget him. 

Instead there is a pause. When he doesn’t move to help her push their boat from the sand her blood runs cold. She can’t hear the sound of the waves crashing over the blood rushing through her ears, the pounding of her erratic heart. She can feel his eyes on the back of her neck and she shudders. She keeps herself in a tight ball, but turns her body to face him and lifts her chin to look at him for the first time.

Lucio stands with his hands crossed in front of him, his metal fingers nervously drumming against the hem of his sleeve. His white collared shirt is stained with the ashes of the island and she has to fight to keep her eyes on him. The ashes of his own destruction. She swallows back the lump in her throat. Despite it all, he holds himself high, a painful smile plastered on his face. His hair is messier than she is used too and he keeps running his fingers through it, trying to hold in his unease. His eyes betray him, holding a pain she can’t quite place. She waits for him to move, instead he speaks. 

“Pocus...what you saw back there was not what it looks like. Er... I didn’t ever mean for it to go this far. You were an unfortunate result of my mistakes…” His eyes look everywhere but her face. He scratches the back of his neck and rocks back and forth on his heels. “I really didn’t mean for you to get hurt in this.”

She says nothing in response. She doesn’t know what he wants her to say. 

He squirms at her silence. Her eyebrows furrow in disgust and she turns away again. He immediately breaks. “Pocus what can I say to make it better? I’m sorry alright?! I really didn’t mean for you to d-” 

 “Don’t,” she says and the ocean is loud enough to swallow her words. The sun hasn’t yet set over the horizon and the ruby sky is just bright enough for him to see her mouth form the single word. He cannot hear how her voice shakes, or how there is doubt and fear and a terrible tremor tied in a large knot in her throat.

He pauses but he is as unshakable as she is shaken. He gently grabs her wrist and her breath catches. She rips her hand away.

“Touch me again and you’ll be sorry,” she says, loud enough this time. He hears everything in her voice now. He doesn’t reach for her, but she can see that he wants to.

“Why would I be sorry?” he asks. 

Her throat feels raw, her voice threatening to break. “You know why,” she says.

He considers her for a moment before stepping closer. She reacts with a step back, almost tripping in the sand, almost reaching for him to steady her. “I know you’re upset with what we saw back there but that’s all in the past!” He says. She shakes her head as he speaks. His voice rises and tears threaten to spill down her cheeks. “Pocus you know that I care about you! Why would I do this all on purpose to hurt you? I only want to make you happy!”

 Her chest heaves and she bites down on her lips to hold back a sob. She shakes her head again. His hands hang empty in the air, waiting for her to take them. 

She makes no move towards him.

The ocean breeze makes her skirt flutter, her hair sticking to the tears that start to spill. She wants to say, “I can’t let myself forgive you because I wouldn’t forgive myself.” Instead, she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and tries not to feel the knot tighten in her throat.

“You knew.” She chokes out her words. “Y-you knew about this. You lied to me….about everything.” She hugs her body to keep herself grounded. 

Lucio’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Lied? I never lied! I feared that if I told you that you would hate me like everyone else! I was going to tell you eventually!” 

Like everyone else.

She groans and buries her face in her hands. “I’m such a fool! I played right into your game! It was always your plan to use me for your own benefit!” 

“No! I never wanted you to feel that way! Pocus I care-”

“You’re a liar!” She sobs. She backs away even further from him. “You killed everyone I ever loved! You killed me! How could you possibly hope to gain anything from me after what you have done?!” 

 Thoughts tumble, her stomach rolls, guilt along with the satisfying bit of relief of admittance floods through her.  His fault. His presence had brought the plague. The hurt on Lucio’s face still comes as a shock to her even though she means to hurt him. After a moment he speaks again, his voice hoarse. 

“What do I have to do?”

“Take me home.” She pleads earnestly. 

“No, Pocus wait! ” He strides towards her, nearly closing the distance between them and she flinches but can’t walk further away for the risk of walking into the water. 

“Pocus there has to be a way to prove that I am sorry. We haven’t known each other that long but I swear, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You are too precious for me to lose.”  His eyes are genuine, his plea desperate. She tries to ignore the ache in her heart at his words but can’t deny the truth behind them. It only makes it harder. 

“Don’t say that Lucio.”  She wipes her eyes with the back of her wrist. “Please stop. Stop breaking my heart. I-I can’t take it.” 

“I-... You said before...y-you said that you liked me. Did you mean it?” 

“Stop. Stop trying to take more from me.” 

“Pocus, darling I only want to show you how sorry I am!”

“Lucio, whatever you think we had is finished! You can’t expect forgiveness in this!”

“Pocus, you can’t push me away forever. You know that we can’t give up on this!”

He reaches for her hands again and she snaps.

 “I told you not to touch me!”

Something in him breaks too. 

“You are determined to hate me!” He hisses, his demeanor shifts and his eyes darken. “Asra has too much of a hold on you for you to form your own opinions! You are right, you are a fool!” He is so close. He is too close. Terror shoots through her like a bolt of ice. 

The next thing she knows is the feeling of the sharp contact of his cheekbones against her hand. She watches his head snap to the side. 

Her heart is beating so fast that she can’t breathe.

Her vision goes white. 

Rikard’s lips curl in disgust. Her husband turns to face her and spits out blood. He had tried to touch her. He had tried to kiss her. She had slapped him. Hard. He wipes his bloodied hand on his suit jacket. She kneels on the ground before him, pathetic and weak, and trembling. She holds her hands to her chest as she slowly turns her gaze upwards, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. The strike is swift. Stinging against her cheek, promising to bloom a sickly deep purple like the rest that litter her body. “Never raise your eyes to me,” he tells her. “You will learn your proper place wife.” He spits out the last word like it’s poison. “Stand up,”Rikard demands. She does as he asks. Her legs will not be steady, one of them is hopelessly infected, the metal shackle cuts deeply into her thigh. Her spine will not straighten. The ache, the pain, the hurt, the agony and the misery. Shoulders hunched, staring at her own feet as she sways. There’s fog in her eyes, spinning in her head. She staggers as she struggles to stay upright. He sharply pushes against the bent line of her back and she hears her bones scream in resistance. “Stand up.” Parts of her flicker, a trickle of blood falls into her blackened eye. 

She blinks and Lucio is in front of her again. She sees the bright pink flood his cheeks and the tear trickle down his jaw. She’s trembling and waits in fear of his retaliation, frozen in place. He slowly angles his face back towards her. He sniffs and wipes his nose. She drew blood. Regret surges through her. 

“I-I.” She stammers through her tears. “I didn’t-”

“I’ll take you home.” He whispers. He walks away from her and heads towards the boat. 

She stands staring at the sand. Her chest heaves, her fingers clench and unclench. She keeps her eyes on the ground as she slowly trails after him. He’d finished untying the boat. His eyes look everywhere but her and she does the same as she braces the sides of the boat. They find opposite seats from each other and she hugs her knees to her chest.  

A long, tortuous period of quiet passes, the waves have calmed and Pocus trails a finger in the water, her reflection staring sadly back at her. It’s a lie. Those memories of her life before don’t belong to her but a tragic force of a woman by which she clings to. She isn’t real. But Lucio is. She winces as she slowly angles her face towards him. Her eyes are still puffy from crying and she must look as exhausted as she feels by the way her body aches. “Does... it still hurt?” 

Lucio flinches and tenderly rubs his cheek. “Um... It’s fine.” 

She wipes her face with her hands and sighs into her palms. 

“I’m sorry.” She says, her voice slightly muffled. 

“ I’m sorry too.”

“I know.”

[asthesamcroflies]

Hi I was wondering if you could write a story with Jax Teller. The reader is pregnant and goes into labor during a lockdown but she doesn’t tell anyone she’s in labor. Eventually Jax or Gemma or Lyla catch on but they won’t make it to the hospital so they have to deliver the baby in the clubhouse. I totally understand if you do not want to write this. Since it doesn’t follow what you are specifically asking. Thanks.

Thanks for the ask - happy to give it a go, so hope you enjoy! :)

Lockdown delivery

“You think I don’t know the timing’s shit? Of course, I know the timing’s shit!”

You could hear your old man’s voice rising angrily, even over the thrum of noise filling the crowded clubhouse. Not for the first time, Samcro had been forced into lockdown by an outside threat for the safety of its members and all those they held dear. Old ladies, kids, some extended family, close friends – all those who were considered at risk now seeking refuge within the clubhouse walls.

All the responsibility, more now than ever, of the club’s young president Jax Teller. Your old man.

It was a huge burden on his shoulders and, for all his usual confidence and authority, there was worry etched between his brows. You hated knowing you were a big factor in adding to that.

With a sigh, you let a hand rest lightly on the huge swell of your stomach. You had to admit you didn’t exactly need all this right now, not at just coming up on thirty-seven weeks pregnant and with the finishing touches still to be done on the nursery and so much still to organise.

You were exhausted and yet here you were, doing what you could to be of practical help and to show your support for your old man.

“Go lie down, baby – we can manage,” Gemma scolded yet again, on her way past with another armful of blankets to make their guests more comfortable. “You look worn out.”

“Thanks,” you managed, through gritted teeth, rolling your eyes at Gemma’s usual bluntness and too stubborn to be dismissed even if it was for your own good. “I’m fine…”

But you trailed off with a pained expression, your other hand going to the small of your back as the dull ache you couldn’t seem to shake only deepened.

“You good, doll?” Lyla stopped briefly in her tracks to check in, but she had her hands full too, trying to feed the impatient little kids who’d been voicing their needs loudly amid ongoing groans over being kept shut up inside, so she accepted your less-than-convincing nod more quickly than she otherwise might.

So left to your own devices again, you took a deep, steadying breath. Goddamn Braxton Hicks contractions. You’d been having them all damn day and… Really? Had it really been that long? Normally, they passed much quicker than that…

No. No, it couldn’t be. You had at least another three weeks to go – not to mention a lockdown to get through!

Maybe you would have that lie-down after all.

*****

“Jax?”

“What, mom?” the biker finally snapped, more sharply than he normally would, riled at having his attention diverted from a quick situation update from his grim-faced sergeant.

Gemma’s eyes narrowed in warning at his tone, but she let it slide, knowing full well the pressure on her son’s shoulders right now. And that she could well be about to add to it.

“Oh, nothing important,” she snarked nonetheless. “Just the small matter of your old lady. You know, the heavily pregnant one?”

That was enough to cut through Jax’s focus on the club and he was immediately on a red alert of a different kind. “What about her? She okay?” he demanded. “Where is she?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing… No one’s seen her in a while.”

“What?! Shit. Well, she can’t have left – no one’s left. Jesus, how do you lose a pregnant woman in here?” Jax bit out, raking a hand through his blond hair. “Sorry, Hap, I gotta go deal with this.”

*****

Gasping in pain, you tilted your head back against the seat, now regretting the seemingly bright idea of taking the weight off your feet in the rare peace of the big old car that had been left in for a service at TM before the shutters had been forced to come down. With every dorm room already full, it had seemed like the best chance of just sitting back and holding on until the pains you’d been experiencing had passed. And you had still been telling yourself they would pass. That there was no way you could be so unlucky as to be in labour in the middle of a lockdown.

Ha, if only that were true.

Trying to remember everything you’d been told about breathing, you couldn’t hold back a cry in response to a particularly strong contraction.

“Oh god, please not now…” you all but sobbed, realising that even if you called out for help, it was highly unlikely anyone back in the main clubhouse would hear you.

But just as panic was about to set it, you heard your old man’s voice calling your name, concern already obvious in his tone. And somehow you found the strength to respond.

“Jax, I’m here!”

“What the hell are you doing out here? I’ve—Oh, shit!”

As soon as you saw him staring at you, you could let your eyes close in relief, knowing at least you weren’t alone in this now.

“Now? Seriously?” he grimaced, before quickly realising that wasn’t exactly the reassurance you needed. “Hey, hey, easy now, darlin’. It’s gonna be okay. We can call an ambulance and see if--”

“I … I think it’s too late for that …” you managed, panting for breath. “I’m so sorry, Jax. I thought it was just Braxton Hicks and--”

You broke off with another cry of pain, making your old man wince in response.

“Fuck,” he swore. “Okay, two seconds, I swear – I’ll be two seconds.”

“Jackson!” you yelped. “Don’t leave me, you asshole!”

“Two seconds!” he hollered back, dashing towards the clubhouse, yelling for his vice president at the top of his lungs – literally turning on his heel and racing back to you as soon as he’d managed to get the attention of a startled Chibs and had the Scotsman running to catch up with him, convinced they were all mere moments from being blown sky-high. Again.

But Chibs skidded to a halt when he realised the truth of the situation, his eyes widening.

“Ah, Jesus Christ, Jacky – I’m no a fucking midwife, brother!” he declared in alarm.

But seeing you sobbing in pain as you caught your old man’s hand in a death grip, the VP crossed himself, kissed the rosary that hung around his neck and heaved a heavy sigh.

“Towels, hot water, and a bottle o’ whisky,” he ordered.

“She can’t drink in her condition,” Jax protested.

“The whisky’s fer me,” Chibs clarified.

*****

It was rare for the clubhouse to fall so quiet in the middle of a lockdown, but with word about what was going on having spread, a hush had fallen over all those now waiting for news – or at least a hush periodically broken by screams drifting through from the garage, making the mothers among those gathered exchange sympathetic, knowing looks, while even the most battle-hardened Sons could only cringe in something close to horror.

And in the backseat of that godforsaken car you’d sought refuge in, you no longer gave a shit who heard what as you struggled in agony, exhausted by your body’s efforts.

“I can’t, I just can’t,” you panted, your hair sweaty and falling in your flushed face. “Please, just make it stop.”

“I know, darlin’, I know,” Jax tried to soothe you, his hand still caught in your death grip, but his well-meaning words enough to make you round on him with renewed energy.

“Do you? Do you really, Jackson? Are you also pushing something the size of a watermelon out of your vagina, darlin’?” you snapped, your voice rising shrilly. “Oh my fucking god, someone just get this baby OUT OF ME!”

Chibs could only chuckle, looking at you over the top of his glasses as he patted your knee gently while your words turned into a roar as you pushed through yet another agonising contraction. “Atta girl. Come on now, lass – nearly there…”

“I can’t…”

“You can, baby,” Gemma coaxed, from where she was hovering anxiously in the background with an armful of towels. “And you’re damn well going to – I want to meet that grandbaby of mine!”

You could only grit your teeth at that, more than tempted to take out all your pain and discomfort on everyone around you, but starting to lack the energy for that. Just when you really did think you couldn’t take much more though, it was done.

And a small whimper turned into a full-throated cry.

“Welcome to the Reaper Crew, wee fella,” Chibs declared, shooting you and Jax a little grin, tears shining even in his brown eyes as he laid the tiny wriggling bundle in your arms.

“A son,” you whispered tearfully, trying not to cry, even as Jax blatantly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, his arm curled protectively around your shoulders. “We have a son.”

“And he’s absolutely perfect,” your old man nodded, leaning in to kiss your damp forehead, his ringed fingers tenderly tracing your baby’s soft cheek. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

[harrypotterthehufflepuff]

Help

Request: Can you write something where George has vertigo because of his ear injury and try’s playing it off as not a big deal but as his gets older it starts to get more severe with the dizziness, nausea, headaches and lost of balance to point where he brakes down to his wife about it because healers can’t help him and she’s comforts him and try’s to convince him to see a muggle doctor. His wife is always there for him.

*

I was a bit unsure of this, that my writing wouldn’t be very good while writing something like this, but I’m quite happy with how it turned out. And I hope you are too, Anon !

ALSO I KNOW THE GIF IS WEIRD BUT IDK I CAN’T HELP IT.

Note: I’m not going to lie, I’ve been a wee bit stressed. If you didn’t know, I’m currently in Norway and babysitting two kids. It makes it hard for me to find to to write, but I’m going home on Wednesday so then I can write more often and get through my requests quicker. I’ve got quite a few so I’ve been a little bit---- stressed. lol, but it’s fine and I love to write, so I’m happy ya’ll are requesting. Love you.

*

Warnings: None, really.

Pairing: George Weasley x reader.

Words: 1.1 k

If you’d like to request something please head over to my other blog, https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ronaldandremuslover and I’ll try and fix it for you !

~ ~ ~ ~

It had started slowly. Not long after George lost his ear, he complained that he was leaning to the right unconsciously. At first, he didn't say much about it. But after a while, it started to get on his nerves. You and George had gone to a healer but was told that it would eventually get better and that his ear injury was so fresh that symptoms were bound to show up. 

After about seven months after he lost his ear, he was still leaning unconsciously to his right. It had gotten a tad better, but he was still being troubled by it. You two had been patient and waited for it to pass, but after he had to sit down several times at a family gathering due to dizziness, you decided to go back and visit the healer once again.

A year later, and he was still feeling dizzy. But now he was trying to play it off like it didn't bother him. You sensed that it was because he didn't want to be a burden and spend time on him being ill. It hurt you to watch him tell you to back off and let him be. He was obviously in pain.

One and a half year passed, and it had suddenly gotten better with the tilting, he could stand up straight and walk without drifting to his right. He looked happier that he could be more independent. But his dizziness was still around and would tumble upon him like a thunder cloud out of nowhere, making it impossible to help him before it happens.

After two years of not having a left ear, he started to sweat profusely. That seemed to annoy him more than the dizziness. You tried to encourage him to visit a muggle 'doctor'. But he had declined the offer and said,

"I don't want to visit a fucking muggle healer, Y/N!"

Two months after trying to convince him to visit a doctor, it just got worse. His balance was out of touch and he had problems to focus on his destination. It pained him, he told you he felt like a child. That he wanted to go back to normal, that he needed to be able to be his usual self again.

And now, while you were waving your wand to clean the dishes you heard a loud thud come from your bedroom. Someone crashed against the floor and sounded like it broke in several pieces. An eerie silence followed where you just stared at the direction of your bedroom, your body not yet comprehending what just happened. But a loud cry of agony broke your frozen body and you immediately dropped your wand and bolted to the door. The door was ajar and you could see two feet on the ground, surrounded by white glass. 

"George!" You pushed open the door and looked at your lover lying on his stomach on the floor, his body shaking from sobbing. You helped him to a sitting position, scanned his body to make sure he hadn't hurt himself on the glass while tripping. "George, honey, are you okay?"

He refused to look you in the eyes, tears streaming quickly down his freckled cheeks. George lifted his hand to wipe a tear away but left a bloody trail along his cheek.

"You're bleeding." Trying to stay calm, you grabbed his hand and inspected the damage. It was a long gash along his palm, stretching from his thumb to his pinky. It wasn't very deep so you could easily fix it with your wand. "Hang on, let me grab my wand." You said as you ran back to the kitchen, and grabbed a cloth while you were there.

Entering the bedroom again, you first cleaned of the shards of glass that were splattered around the floor. "Reparo." It repaired itself and took the shape of a tall and thin vase. You then focused on George, sitting against the wall, heaving breaths, trying to calm himself down. You tried not to cry yourself, but it was hard to look at him so fragile on the floor and try to keep the tears at bay.

You grabbed his hand and ran the cloth over first, cleaning up the blood that had spilt over. He winced but didn't object. When you had a clear sighting of the wound, you grabbed your wand and made swift movements over his palm, muttering under your breath. The gash slowly but surely closed, leaving just a red, thin line across his palm.

George was still crying, his left cheek stained with blood. You folded the cloth to get a clean side and softly removed the almost dried up blood. 

Now you could have a good look at him. He looked broken. 

"George -"

"I don't know." He whispered, barely audible.

"Huh?" You said softly.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Y/N." 

It was getting harder to control your tears, they were forcing their way through and eventually escaped, rolling down your cheek. 

Kneeling in front of him, you ran a hand tenderly over his tear-stained cheek. He overlapped your hand with his own, pressing his firmly against yours. He sobbed and looked at you, looking as if he was begging.

"I need help. I can't do this any longer."

You cried but didn't wipe your tears away. You didn't know if they were there because you were hurt by seeing your lover on the floor, or if it was because you were relieved he wanted to seek help. You had waited for this moment for a long time.

So you put your other hand on his right cheek and directed his gaze to yours. "I'll help you. I'll help you every step of the way." You promised. "But a healer won't be enough."

George bowed his head, a tear landing in his lap. "I know."

Kissing his forehead, you breathed in his scent. He was finally letting you fully help him. 

"Let's have a bath, yeah? I got a little bloody." You showed him your hands that were covered in drying blood. 

He smiled weakly, but you were still happy to see him smile overall. "Yeah, that sounds delightful."

Standing up, you helped him up to his feet and wandered out to the bathroom where you put the water on. The bathtub filled up with hot, steamy water. 

You undressed, along with George. You got in first, enjoying the hot water soaking your skin. George then gingerly stepped in, who sat down in front of you, leaning his back against your chest. After a minute or two he finally relaxed completely and slid down an inch or two, until his head was resting on your chest. He was playing with your hands, sometimes running his fingers over the ring on your ring finger, fiddling with the diamond ring there.

"I love you." He breathed, planting a kiss on the back of your hand.

You smiled. "I love you too."

[seokiloquy]

Pain - Akaashi Keiji

AU: Hanahaki Disease / Soulmate / (Honestly I don’t know how to explain it)

Revamp

GN! Reader

Word Count: 1.7k+

"I think you'd get along with her," you said nodding to a girl in the corner of the library.

"Really?" the first year asked hopefully as he looked at her, watching as she flipped the pages of her book. Her legs were pushed up against her chest, head rested on her knees. Completely invested. Blue.

"Ya. You see the book she's reading? You've read it, right? Use it as a conversation starter."

The boy nodded and slowly walked over, giving you a thumbs-up as he left. He had come to you with the hope of finding out if he had a chance with his crush, asking to meet with you in the school’s library to talk it over. By the time the two of you had arrived though she had been seated snuggly in the corner almost out of sight. Typically any sort of evaluation would have taken much longer. But when you saw the girl glance up from her book to look in your direction you were certain.

Now, you sat at a nearby table with a large book in front of you to cover your face as you waited for a cue to leave. When a light giggle from the girl was heard, you peeked over the book to see the two laughing, and so, you packed up your things and left, leaving a beautiful mixture of colours behind you to their giggles. Blue and pink.

Cupid. It was a nickname given to you by most of the school’s population. The soulmate finder. Students afraid of throwing up rose petals often looked to you for guidance, hoping that the person that had gained their affections wouldn’t be their undoing. Luckily most people had it easy, the person they liked often reciprocated those feelings and if not, after a while of being around them, those feelings developed quickly. It was just a matter of making the first move with the right person. 

Guys came to you more often than girls. Not because they had better luck, but because they fell in love too quickly and the other often became uncomfortable or lost attraction towards them because of the sudden change. That left the boys with Hanahaki Disease and looking for your aid.

Girls on the other hand were more cautious. They took things slowly and didn't take large steps forward until they were sure of their feelings. Typically only then would they come seeking your aid to make a move.

Those were only the people that you had experience working with though. You were certain there were people that didn’t want your help and others that held no need for it either.

You would, despite the circumstance, fall into the latter, happy in your situation. Working to make the people in your school happy and feel loved. That's all you ever needed.

Despite this, of course, there were special cases. These few people would come to you asking if you would be willing to go out with them. It broke your heart along with theirs. But as a deal, you helped them fall in love with someone they could really connect to. The process of being around them kept them from falling ill but also transferred their affections toward someone else.

Someone they deserve.

You after all just meddled with love. That wouldn't be healthy for anyone.

It was like that for three years. Until a second year came to you with petals tumbling out of his mouth non-stop. You were taking time after school hours to read in the shade of some trees enjoying the warmth that the sun was sharing until you heard a few steps approach you.

"Akaashi-san?" you asked, putting your book down on your back that laid limply next to you.

"(L/N)-san?" he croaked, falling to his knees in front of you, hands grasping desperately at the grass as his bag fell off his shoulders.

You shuffled forward, raising your arms to carry his face in your hands, holding him close to you and taking some weight off of his muscles. Some petals landed on your legs and on the grass, quickly pooling together. You stroked his cheek gently.

"Shh, Akaashi, please. I know it hurts, I know. I'll help, but please, for a moment just don't speak."

His arms wrapped around your ribcage and held you tightly. He bent his head down to your shoulder and sobbed as the red petals burned his throat. His shoulders shook from his frantic heaving of air and flowers.

"It hurts (L/N)-san," Akaashi cried as a few flew from his mouth.

"Akaashi, shh, breath through your nose. Calm down, everything will be okay."

Your hands moved to rest on his back and run small circles on his strained muscles, trying to soothe them. You rested your head against his as he calmed down, still breathing deeply.

"Who could hurt you so much that they almost turn black?" you asked gently, only to make him sob again. You continued to hold him. "Oh sweetie, you're in so much pain. Rest, please."

Grabbing the large gym bag he dropped you placed it in position and rolled up your sweater on top of it. Gently cradling him to lie down on the bag you massaged his chest and shoulders to help with any pain. Every once and a while a white petal would fall from his mouth making his lips look even rosier.

The ghostly colour of the petal made you feel sick. A sting of pain would follow every heartbeat as you helped the boy sleep away his sorrows.

"White? How long have you endured this pain alone?"

You gently brushed a hand through his black hair as you plucked the petals off his clothing with the other. You pulled out another sweater from your back in case of rain and wrapped it around the sleeping boy.

The petals stopped a few minutes ago but you couldn't help but feel they would show up suddenly and disturb the poor boy’s sleep.

The mere thought made you feel sick to your stomach. You rested a hand above his collar bone and gently brushed the area with your thumb before placing your hand on his cheek.

"I'll never let you feel that way again Keiji, I promise you that you'll never feel the same pain."

A small white petal fell from Akaashi's mouth as he looked at the end of the hall. There stood a girl flaunting around her new boyfriend. He still clung on to the thought of them. You on the other hand saw someone who cheated the rules.

Although the boy acted like a lost puppy happy to follow, the girl seemed to treat him like a purse. The connection between them was uneven and likely to snap. The lights that surrounded the two were fighting each other and were not co-operating. 

You pulled Akaashi out of the school and to an overhanging tree in the yard. As you did so you studied the auras of the couples you had helped. The colours danced around each other in harmony, creating beautiful mixtures of the two. In comparison, that couple in the hallway was the result of using a dirty paintbrush.

Akaashi laid down along the grass, sure to be in the shade. You sat bedside tracing fingers along his chest to ease the build of pain he felt. The light that surrounded him was a dark grey. He was lost, looking more like a shadow than a person.

"Keiji, I can't read your mind. How are you feeling?"

He turned his head slightly, his dark hair shifting as he did so.

"Better now that they're gone," he sighed, letting out a deep breath of air. The aura around him shifted, flashing a beautiful teal- green, before settling down into a toned-down shade of the colour, grayed.

"Better now that I'm alone with you."

His voice was soft and gentle and so was his smile. Your hand dragged up from his chest to gently hold his face. Akaashi mirrored your actions, pulling you closer to his so that your head rested next to his.

"Thank you."

You grinned, and lightly poked the quiet boy's cheek with your nose.

"You shouldn't thank me," you placed a feather of a kiss along his jaw, "you deserve happiness. And I will give it to you no matter how long it takes."

Akaashi used his arm that was around you to pull you closer into him. Body becoming more evident as you were pushed up against him

"I better get used to you then."

People subconsciously find their soulmates. They never have just one, and they might never find their twin flame, but the actions of you and the people that surround you lead you down certain paths.

No one could see the auras. Not that you knew of. But you could see the connections people made and who they would connect well with. No one could see them, so no one else could see the beauty of two broken auras dance and create a vibrant mix of green and orange despite the dark they come from.

"Akaashi, are you happy?"

The corners of his mouth curled into a gentle smile. With a sigh, he looked up at the tree that created shade for the two of you. "With you." He coughed, making you reach for his chest, "The thought of pain makes me miserable."

His thumb swiped over his lip. He held a blood-red rose out to you. You pulled it out of his fingers, holding it lightly before letting it rest of the grass next to you.

"But with you, I feel the greatest joy that I have in a long time."

You giggled and brushed your thumb along his now petal free lips.

"I would say that you have no reason for flowers to fall out of your mouth now."

The auras that surrounded you lost its dark tone, both becoming more colourful and vibrant like flames in the middle of the night. It was a shame that no one would be able to see the two fires help each other grow.

"Thank you, (Y/N)."

This is really short, but it’s a revamp so that’s sort of expected... it looks longer in the Docs?... I promise our newer oneshots are longer- Bacon

Posted: 03/08/2020

[captain-tch]

Caped Crusader (Vigilante AU)

You've been fighting crime on the streets. A new hero appears and he may be more helpful than you first believe.

Looking over the city you loved, you smiled.

This was your home, where all of your best memories were, where happiness sparked in your heart and blossomed. Your city was very close to your heart, but even you had to admit it had its faults. Knife crime was at an all time high. Pick pocketing and robbery were such common practice that the police didn't bother anymore. Violence flooded the streets as soon as the moon rose, and you wondered why others couldn't treat the city with respect. It was a home to many.

The police were at their wits end. They were over worked, under staffed and overwhelmed. They needed help. And you were all the more happy to provide it.

Not that they knew it, of course. You couldn't risk your identity being revealed to the public, you might as well paint a target on your back. No, you stalked the night in an elaborate mask. You even wore a wig, ensuring that you did everything to hide your identity.

It was hard sometimes. Your family were concerned - it was hard not to be, your body a canvas of blooming bruises and cuts too deep for a cat scratch. The lack of sleep weighed heavy on you but it a small sacrifice to pay for the safety of others.

You will admit though, as much as you did love saving people, you did bask in the positive publicity too. To know that you were thought of as a hero? It did feed your ego a bit too much.

Sighing, you climbed down from the roof, preparing yourself for another nights work. You slipped your mask on, taking a moment to gaze at the intricate details within it.

Without another thought, you sauntered into the shadows of the night, seeking out the sounds of troubled souls.

Following your instincts, you wandered deeper into the dodgy area of town. Your eyes were constantly assessing, glazing past the staggering bodies of drunkards and seeking the rigid movements of the afraid.

It didn't take long. It never really did.

A scream echoed throughout the night. Your body instantly kicked into action, your feet pushing you closer to the sound. Your breaths came out in pants as you skidded into a nearby alley, taking a moment to take the scene in.

A girl was curled up in a corner, hand clutching a bloody nose. You moved forward to help her, noticing she was smiling widely. Frowning, you turned to focus on the other people in the alley.

A man twice your size was flat out on the floor, body curled up and sobs heaving out of his body. Blood covered so much of his skin that you could barely make out his facial features. Standing over him was a man dressed in all black, delivering another swift kick to the mans gut.

"Oi!" You shouted, knocking the assailant over. They grunted, the pair of you falling to the floor.

You pinned them down, holding them in place as you glanced at the injured man. "You okay?"

The man spat at the ground, staring at you with such venom in your eyes you nearly recoiled. "No, thanks to you."

The man limped away. You stared after him in shock, murmuring swear words under your breath. Guess as much as the people loved you, there'd always be people who hated you.

Suddenly, you had been flipped onto your back, a forearm pressing on your neck. Looking up at the attacker, you gripped a hand around their forearm, trying to push it away. They just pressed down harder.

"Who the fuck are you," you choked out.

The attacker stared down at you with steely eyes. It was the only facial feature you could make out, a black mask concealing the rest. "None of your concern."

Now you at least knew the person holding you down was a man. He had a deep voice.

"It is when you hurt the people of my city."

He laughed darkly. "He was sure helping her when he was hitting that girl."

Realisation dawned on you. It all made sense - the girls bleeding nose, her sick happiness at the showcase of cruelty. It must have been evident in your eyes, and the way your tight grip loosened on his forearm. He relented, giving you a wide berth as you stumbled to your feet.

"Don't I get an apology?"

You snorted, brushing yourself off. You resisted the urge to flinch as you straightened. He'd angered an old wound. Bastard. "I think we're even."

He grumbled; you blocked out his complaints. You had too much to do, too many people to save. This was trivial.

Spinning around, you started to leave the alley, tensing as his voice rung out. "Be more careful next time."

You clenched your jaw shut. You had enough of this night already. You hadn't even saved someone, all you had done was get your ass handed to you on a plate by some grumpy, hero wannabe. To say you were pissed off was an understatement.

You were furious.

That's why you didn't respond to the man, only flipping him the middle finger as you walked away.

~

You were only half way through your patrol and your night hadn't gotten any better. You had hit all of the usual spots and there was an abnormal lack of activity. You suspected the newbie you met earlier had something to do with it.

Bastard.

At last, you had finally come across someone to help. It was by complete accident, if you were honest. You had been walking through the streets, eventually giving up and climbing onto the nearest roof for a better view. As much as you wanted to stop and take in the view, your eyes were drawn to some action in a car park not too far from you. A group of cars were parked up together, a few people gathered there. From what you could see, it looked like it was getting heated.

You gulped. Normally you only took on petty crime, but this looked like it was a bit out of your league. You'd been fighting crime on the streets just over a year now and you felt extremely confident at what you did. But this was way out of your territory. At a push you'd have to fight 3 people - this looked like at least 6.

If you didn't deal with it though, who would? The police were far too busy and you highly doubted they could intervene in time, and that rookie you met was not prepared for this. You just had to bite the bullet and do it. You had to do it for your city.

Shaking off your nerves you climbed down from the roof, quickly making your way to the car park. It was dimly lit, which you hoped would work well in your favour. With the cars you could use them to hide yourself, and if you timed it right you could knock two of them out before they even realised you were there.

As quietly as you could, you sneaked behind one of the cars, peering around the edge. Your heart was beating so hard you swear that they could hear it. You placed a sturdy hand on your chest to try and calm it.

"Where's my money?" A voice spat. Your angle didn't allow you to see the woman, but you could see the reaction she had on the men in front of her. They remained indifferent, shrugging.

"You'll get your money when we get our drugs."

The woman scoffed. "I hand delivered them myself. You're bullshitting me."

Your palms were growing increasingly sweaty. Internally, you were uttering every word under the sun. You had gotten yourself into some shit you weren't sure you could get out of.

"Prove it, you daft-" the mans voice got drowned out as a sneeze racked its way through your body. You couldn't stop it in time, the noise echoing throughout the desolate car park. "What was that?"

Before you could prepare yourself a pair of hands were clutching at your hoodie, forcing you to your feet. You grunted, squirming in their hold as you were presented to the group of people.

"What the fuck is that?"

A hand fiddled with the edges of your mask. You shrivelled away, still desperately thrashing to get released. "I know who it is. It's that wannabe hero."

Spit landed on your cheek.

"What we going to do bout her?"

Your eyes darted around the six of them. You knew for sure they had some weapons concealed. You had heard far too many stories of innocent bystanders stumbling upon these kind of situations and never seeing the end of it.

This was the first time since you started crime fighting did you believe you were truly in danger.

A flash of silver caught the corner of your eye. Instantly, your breath caught in your throat.

It was a knife.

Instinct took over. Without hesitation you whipped your head back, hitting your captor. Ignoring the stars flashing across your vision, you spun around and aimed a punch at his throat. He fell to the ground, gasping.

One down.

You frantically turned your focus to the next closest one. You grabbed their hand, twisting back far enough to hear it pop, deaf to their screams as you delivered a blow to their gut, kicking them to the ground.

Two down.

A pair of hands grabbed you from behind. This time your mind was perfectly clear as you stomped on the assailant's foot, driving an elbow into their throat. They gasped, falling back a few steps.

Before you had chance to think another person was snatching at you. You turned around to be met with a stinging pain radiating through your cheek. It took you a moment to realise you'd been hit.

Gingerly, you lifted a hand to your cheek, seeing it come back red. Clenching your jaw, you glared at your attacker. "You fu-"

A gasp erupted from your body. A burning, fiery pain bloomed in your abdomen. Glancing down, you saw the tip of a blade protruding from your stomach.

Oh fuck.

The knife was ripped out as soon as you realised it was there. You fell to your knees. Your hands clutched your wound, uncaring about the blood seeping through your fingers. Waves of agony tore through you the harder you pressed but you knew you needed to do it to survive.

Slumping to the ground, you turned your eyes to the sky. At least you could die seeing the stars.

"Want me to finish her off?" The words were garbled to your ears.

You didn't hear the response. Time passed and you realised something that made your throat go dry. They didn't finish you off. They decided to leave you to die.

You didn't know what was worse.

Out of the corner of your eye, you swear you saw the darkness move. You blinked, refocusing on what you'd seen. Was it the blood loss, or was that a person?

You wanted to cry out, all words now stolen from you. All you could manage was laboured breaths.

Maybe you were destined to die alone.

As soon as the thought came to mind, a face appeared before you. For a moment, you were over the moon. Finally, someone who could help. Finally, a chance to live.

And then you realised it was the rookie from before.

You wanted to curse whatever god was looking over you. Clearly it was not your day.

"Can you hear me?"

You coughed, mustering the effort to breathe out one word. "Unfortunately."

~

A consistent beeping noise met your ears. Your eyes opened slowly, squinted against the harsh lights. The stench of disinfectant seared into your nose.

"Be careful." An disembodied voice warned you.

Twisting your head, you saw a short man, with black hair falling slightly in his steely eyes. There were shadows under his eyes, and his clothes looked well worn.

Clearing your throat, you croaked. "Who are you?"

He remained silent, moving in the chair. You eyes stayed trained on him the entire him. He leaned over beside you, pouring a cup of water and passing it to you. With a beats hesitation, you gladly accepted it. You were grateful he had, your throat soothing.

"So, Mr Mystery, why are you here?"

"Let's just say I had to see something through to the end."

For a half beat, you wondered if he was there to kill you. But then you took in the dark bags under his eyes, and his comfortable posture. If you were being honest, he didn't strike you as a killer.

"Thank you."

He nodded, standing to his feet. Your hand reached out, ghosting his skin. "Where are you going?"

"I've done what I came here to do."

A curiosity was sparked within you. "I have so many questions."

The mystery man smirked, moving to leave the room. "Don't worry Y/N, I have a feeling we'll run into each other soon enough."