#except for the moving body bag; that never made the cut but is shown in all 3 trailer versions

[r0semultiverse]

Mark also uploaded his own vision for The Edge of Sleep trailer so now we have 3 trailers! (I personally think the New Regency site link unlisted official trailer and the Markiplier Youtube unofficial ones are better than the 2nd official trailer, but maybe that’s just me)

Fuck it, here is the full The Edge Of Sleep trailer what got leaked back in February. If they don't post it, then leaked it is. If they do, great, late but great. And yes, this is legit one. This was also New Regency website before they took it down. Also 7 days until The Edge Of sleep release.

[gabessquishytum]

Dubcon mating with alpha dream except hob knows EXACTLY what hes doing:) hob has been all but throwing himself at dream all semester all "ohh wow i would NEVER leave MY alpha like that.. too bad i dont even have one :(" hell cut it as close as possible going to class through his pre heat just to hopefully give dream a wiff of how slick and fertile he is. Dream does not seem to notice. But hob is one of the few omegas in the school this year so hob thinks his chances are pretty good to be able to get him in rut. He follows dream to his office all smug and confident. But he wasnt prepared for how overwhelming getting held down and rut fucked was!! Hes trying to crawl away despite himself but only gets hornier when dream physically drags him back. Hob has fooled around before but never done more than some over the clothes stuff with an actual alpha.. dream gives him his first knot and latches his teeth to the back of his neck to mate him as well. Hob is a bit teary and dream still hasnt come back to himself.. his pants were ripped off his body along with his underwear but dream lays on top of him so hes not cold. Hob is determined to keep his alpha though. Hes got his gym clothes in his bag and he drags dream off to his own room, planning to hide long enough that the bond solidifies and an emergency break wouldn't be possible anymore :) good thing dream isnt awake to make hob see someone for that!! Hes got a weird sense of honor and hob is doing all he can to make the bond permanent before dream can get in his way :)

-🔪

Oh YES. Sneaky, sneaky Hob. This is excellent.

Hob is ambitious, ok? He’s been told all his life that he’ll never get anywhere or be anything. He sees it as his job to prove people wrong. So he has a plan: put himself through uni, get a fantastic fucking job, and get himself the most eligible alpha he can find.

Not necessarily in that order.

Dream is just perfect. Clever, rich, handsome. Hob can’t understand why anyone would leave him, but he’s not complaining. With Dream’s previous mating bond gone, Hob is free to make his move. He’s a little scared of how it will work out, but Dream has been nice to him and shown an interest in Hob! Not in a sexual way, but that’s only because he’s too professional. Hob is sure that Dream won’t object to them being mated. Hob isn’t the perfect omega, but he’ll do his best. He’s (mostly) a virgin, and he plans to take good care of his alpha. What more could Dream want?

And once he becomes lucid again, Dream is surprisingly compliant. He doesn’t seem angry. He panics at first, but once Hob assures him that he wanted Dream to fuck him and mate him, he just kind of… accepts it. He takes Hob home to his big empty house. He just seems pleased to have an omega around the place!

Hob gets his comeuppance for his sneakiness, because the house isn’t entirely empty. Dream soon introduces Hob to… his son. Orpheus is preschool aged and spends his time split between Dream and Calliope’s homes. Hob is suddenly thrust into the role of step-parent to a child who could conceivably be his sibling, while Dream breathes a sigh of relief because he really needs all the help he can get with Orpheus.

But Hob doesn’t believe in giving up! He rolls up his sleeves (figuratively and literally), speedily reads a couple of websites about blended families, and decides that he’s going to be the best fucking step-parent anyone has ever seen. He does regret his underhanded behaviour a tiny bit, but he’s made his bed and now he’s going to lie in it.

And he still gets to ride Dream’s dick at the end of the day, so… it could be a lot worse. Every time Dream grabs him at the waist and pulls him back onto his cock, shoving his knot more firmly into his hole, Hob remembers how it all started… and he’s honestly really looking forward to his next heat. Dream fucked him so good in his rut, so Hob is pretty sure that spending a pheromone loaded heat with him is going to be amazing. And maybe they’ll even make a little sibling for Orpheus :D

[miniscrew-anon]

HSH Febuwhump Day 21 - Shackled

Me comin’ out of left field with a Sun chapter

----

She twists her wrists against the cold bite of metal and makes her hands as small as she can.  She pulls at the shackles to try to slip them. Nothing. She repositions her fingers and tries again. Still no good. She tucks the shackle between her body and arm and tries to pull her hand out until the metal cuts into her flesh. Then she pulls harder until the shackle is wet with blood. 

No progress. It’s impossible. The metal cuffs are too tight to slip. 

In a fit of frustration she pulls at the chains attaching her to the floor. It doesn’t do a damn thing for her except make her even madder. 

Sun sniffles, sitting on his knees and willing herself back under control. The burning behind her eyes and her quickly clogging sinuses won’t do anything for her right now. She needs to stay calm and think, not panic and cry. 

A few minutes of deep breathing settles her. 

Okay. Let’s see what she has.

The room is cavernous, made of rock and filled with stone debris. Her hands are shackled with the chain going between her shackles, attaching her to a fallen statue of a woman deity. How ironic, that she found herself trapped with Lady Hylia. She wonders if her kidnappers did that on purpose.

The statue is massive and there’s no chance of moving it even an inch. The chain itself is heavy duty with no weaknesses. The shackle is the same, each wrist trapped in a bind of iron with about a foot of give between her hands. 

A few feet away her captors sleep, bags of blades and weapons just beyond her reach. After days of sneaking and trekking they were exhausted, this night being the first that they forgo a watchman. They were cocky, being so close to their goal. From their religious ramblings, Sun managed to glean that their “prophecy” foretold that some ritual would be done under a new moon.

That’s tomorrow.

If she could just slip the damn cuffs she’d be able to take them. She’d only need to free one hand to get out of this. Surely there’s a way…

Sun looks down at her bloodied hand and scowls. 

She spends the next hour scouring the ground that she can reach and looking for anything she might use to pick her lock. A paperclip, a nail, an old file, anything. 

This site is one of the old ruins that pepper Hyrule. And either this site was never touched or any archaeologists that were here cleaned up after themselves because there’s nothing but rocks around her. 

She picks one up, weighing it. It’s a marble piece from the statue, about the size of her fist. 

It would make a great throwing weapon. But there’s no way she’d be able to take these men with just rocks. Even though they’re determined to take her alive they’ve shown no problem in using stun guns and tranquilizers. Even if she aimed true every time, there’s no way she’d be able to take down every single one before they took her down. 

She tosses the stone up lightly and catches it, thinking. She looks down. 

She could try to take a rock to the chains. But her captors are just across the room. They’re asleep right now but if she starts banging rocks against the metal she’ll wake them for sure. And even if she got a few hits in, there’s no guarantee the chain would break. 

The shackle would be an easier target but it has the same problem - too loud. In the time she would break out and go for a weapon she’d be caught. She’d end up right back here if she tried that.

Her eyes trailed down yet again. To her hand, which is just the tiniest bit too big to slip the cuffs. 

She bites her lip and glances at the kidnappers. Still dead asleep with a bag of weapons beside them, the handle of her pistol glinting in the low moonlight. 

She only needs to slip one hand to escape. 

And it only takes one hand to shoot a gun.

----

I think Sun deserves to be a bit dangerous. In the games she used to be a warrior Goddess who lead armies when she was Hylia and she was a knight in training when she was reborn as Zelda - she is not a pushover.

This is based on the Skyward Sword events where Sky finds some empty shackles in the Eldin Volcano. Impa saved Zelda in the games but I think it’d be cool if Zelda saved herself instead.

[harcove]

hiiiii! <33 i dont know if you are taking any requests but can you write a leon x reader in which the reader gets bitten? (i love drama lmaoo)

love uuuuuu<3333

Okay so I do have like a bunch of other stuff to finish in my inbox, but I tend to not do things in order of when I get them, I do them in the order of whatever I get done first (since I start them all whenever I get them and work on them over time) and whatever I'm getting the most inspiration for at the moment, and this baby right here: chefs kiss right now. I LOVE angst so much, it is my favourite thing to write.

Also I'm always open for requests! It's just a matter of when they get done, since like I said above, and also my final year of uni just started so oof. ALSO: Decided to do RE2 Leon oop... I hope that's okay!

I LOVE YOU TOO! Here you go bb,

Warnings: angst, blood/gore, injury, character death

Length: 2.8k (I- oop.)

Request: in the ask!

RE2 Leon Kennedy x Reader - Not you.

Your hand squeezed your thigh with as much strength as you could muster. It wasn't that it was hurting too much yet, you were still running off the shock and adrenaline from the events moments before that the pain hadn't yet settled. Dark blood oozed between your shaking fingers and coated your hand like you had just decided to dip your hand into a bucket of red paint. It was hardly sanitary considering the situation you were in, dirty and sweaty, having been going through the sewers earlier.

The undead man who had done the deed lay a few feet away with your survival knife Leon had given you stuck in his temple. You could see your own blood and flesh on his face, in his mouth. It was unnerving, and you usually wouldn't have noticed such a detail, except that it was your skin. Your blood. Your body.

You inched yourself towards the corpse and used the tip of your foot to make sure it wasn't still going to get back up. When it did nothing after a few pushes, you deemed it safe enough to take your knife back. With a few hard tugs, it dislodged itself with a squelch and you fell back against the wall behind you, exhausted.

The sudden sharp pain that run up your leg into your spine and made you arch your back for a moment as you stopped breathing forced you to pay attention to the wound on your leg. Hesitantly, you moved your shaking fingers away from the bite on your leg to take a peak.

There wasn't really a point to looking at it, you realized moments after you laid eyes on it. It wasn't going to fix anything, and there was nothing for you to assess. A bite was a bite, and you knew what it meant. Leon and you had seen what happened to Marvin. You yourself had seen a friend turn after being bit before you had gone to the RPD. So you knew.

The skin near the bite was incredibly hot to the touch, and even without touching it, you could feel the heat coming off your skin. Your jeans sported a hole where the bite was and you wondered if there was anything in your bag to cover it with. It was ugly to look at, and scary.

You let out of deep sigh as you closed your eyes. There wasn't much you could do but sit there. Leon was somewhere inside the NEST, and you were at the entrance. You weren't sure if you wanted Leon to find you dead or alive, but all you knew was that this was not something you nor him could fix.

It felt like hours had passed when Leon had shown up. But in reality, it had only been about half of an hour. Whatever was in the bite, whatever the virus really was, had done a number on you as you felt sweat bead at your forehead and slowly trickle down the side of your face. The furrow in your brow from the pain almost felt like it was permanent.

"Y/N!" He called out when he spotted you. He looked worse for wear, that was for sure. The way his shirt had been ripped on the sleeves, and the bandage you could see just beneath his shirt and RPD vest. He was caked in blood, sweat, and dirt too.

And yet he was a welcome sight for your tired eyes.

He quickly slid onto his knees and if you weren't in so much pain yourself, you would've winced at how harshly he landed on the hard floor, but it didn't seem like he was affected by it.

"I'm so glad I found you," he said breathily; he reminded you of a little puppy, and it made you want to squeeze him close to you, "what happened, what-"

Your hand squeezed your leg unconsciously and he looked down when you did so, his beautiful blue eyes resting on your bloodied hand and whatever you were covering up. His eyes looked back up to you almost hesitantly, asking to look. When a half-smile was your only response, he looked back down and focused on your leg.

His hands gently pried your fingers off your leg and he carefully let your hand go on your lap, giving them a squeeze.

"I'm..." he seemed at a loss for words, you would've been too, "I have to... Cut this away to see it better, okay? It's..."

Carefully he used his own survival knife to cut away at the pieces of your jeans, which were dyed deep red around the wound, so he could see it better. Your hand came up to his shoulder as he did so, peeling the bloody fabric away from it as much as he could without hurting you, and you squeezed his shoulder so tightly, fighting the urge to scream in pain. But he didn't seem to notice, or care, about the harsh grip you had on his shoulder.

"Oh. God..." it was said softly, almost as if he had no air left inside him to breathe, let alone speak.

"It's really ugly, I know," you tried to make the situation less dire, but it didn't seem to work, because Leon just looked at you with his big eyes, full of so many negative emotions.

"It's not..." even Leon didn't know what he was doing to say as he trailed off. He began searching through his pockets till he came up with a bottle of antiseptic that looked half empty.

"It's gonna be okay," he finally spoke again as he started to open the bottle, but your hand reached up and seized his own holding the open bottle above your leg.

"Don't use that," you pushed it closer to him and further from your leg, "you can't afford to waste that."

"I'm not wasting it."

You hadn't heard him sound so sure of his words, so... Angry. You hadn't known the boy long, but that was the first time you'd seen him react that way to anything. It made your push your lips together in a thin line, but you kept your hand on him, stopping him from using the antiseptic.

"I'm pretty sure we both know how this ends," you prompted slowly, "I don't think an antiseptic is going to fix it."

"The vaccine is here somewhere, it has to be," he stated firmly, "we just need to find it. It's going to be okay."

It wasn't that you didn't trust him, or that you didn't believe him. But how long was it going to take to find a vaccine? And how did you truly know you were going to find one? You didn't even know if it would work.

You didn't have much say when Leon moved to put your arm over his shoulder, and looked at you, counting to three before he helped you off the ground.

It worked initially: you had managed to stand up with the help of the rookie cop beside you, who kicked the zombie that had done the deed further from you two when you had gotten up. But it didn't last long, as pain shot through your leg and seemed to spread through your entire body. You could barely keep yourself upright even with his help, your body felt too weak to even function.

"Leon, I can't," you cried, falling back against the wall, "I can't."

"Damnit," Leon cursed under his breath, looking around him urgently before he left you against the wall to open a door across from the two of you.

He was missing for less than a minute when he came back out from the room and quickly came back to you. One of his arms reached under your legs while the other went to your back.

"I'm going to pick you up, okay?"

Ever the gentleman, even when you were definitely dying.

"My hero," you smiled softly but it came out as more of a grimace as he lifted you up like you weighed nothing.

You supposed training to be a police officer meant he wouldn't have trouble carrying fully grown human beings.

The room was dimly lit by a single lamp. There was a bed right across from the door, and a desk close to the door. Someone must've used this room as not just a study but a place to sleep. Like a bedroom.

Leon gently placed you on the bed in the room, being careful on how he placed you, and never taking his focus away from your leg.

"Okay," he breathed out pulling back, "I'm going to go find the vaccine. And then we're going to get out of here. Together."

It was a wonderful thought. It was the dream, right? For everything to be okay, for you to be fine, and for the two of you to get out of Raccoon city and away from this mess. Together.

And yet you knew it wasn't going to happen, you knew you weren't getting out of there. You knew you were dead. And it was a scary thought to have to face alone because you wanted so badly to live. To live with him.

He would've been out that door had you not reached your hand out and grabbed his hand as best you could, squeezing it as hard as you could.

"Don't," your voice cracked as you swallowed hard, the ache in your chest only growing when his pained expression met yours, "don't leave me. Leon..."

"But I need to..."

It was blatantly obvious to not only yourself but also to him that there wasn't anything he could do. Not anything he could do in time for you. He didn't even know what he'd be looking for exactly, but he'd go find it if he could. He'd do anything to help you. To save you, and keep you near, but there wasn't anything he could do. It was a cold hard truth, and one he so desperately wanted to avoid.

But he couldn't.

Not when he looked at you, and really looked. Not just second glances over your form and your leg that lasted seconds as his blue eyes frantically moved like they were trying to find something they couldn't. No, when he really stopped and stared at you, he couldn't avoid it.

Your skin was ashen and you were covered in a thin layer of sweat. Your eyes somehow looked like they had sunken in a bit, and looked dull compared to what they usually looked like. The way you breathed was alarming, it was shallow and sounded tiring, and then some moments it would speed up only to slow down moments later. You were in pain, and you were hardly there anymore.

"Y/N..." Leon's voice cracked, and you never thought you were going to see him cry. He held your hand back tightly and noted your fingertips felt cooler, "This isn't happening. Not to you."

"I should've paid more attention..." you said softly, "I don't... I don't want to die."

"I should've been here, I should've..." he exhaled through his nose, "damnit!"

"I'm not letting you blame yourself," you sternly interrupted him and squeezed his hand as best as you could, "not now. Not ever. None of this is your fault..."

Leon said nothing as he took to the ground beside the bed, kneeling right beside you. His face was close to your own as he leaned forward, his hand still holding your own tightly, which he brought up to your chest where your intertwined hands sat.

"Just..." you knew what you wanted to say but you didn't want to make the hurt worse, "just... promise you won't forget about me? And promise... Promise you're going to get out of here. Alive."

"I could never forget you," he said hurriedly as if he was offended you would have even thought he could forget you, "even if I wanted to, I could never..."

There was something there, between the two of you, that was trying to lay itself bare, but something was stopping it. There was something unsaid, simple words that were hard to say and had so much meaning, so much weight. But neither of you could say it.

If you did, not only would it be the first time, but also, the last time.

With your remaining strength you slipped a ring off your finger; it was an old thing, something that you had for a while and you didn't even remember why you got it or where you got it, but you always wore it just because. It had no sentimental meaning, but now it did as you pushed it into his hands. The look of confusion on his pained face made you smile slightly.

"So you always have a piece of me," you said, "and if you ever try to pawn that off I will come back and find you, Kennedy..."

His eyes trained themselves of the silver ring in his hands, it was so plain, just a band. But it was yours. It was you. It was all he could keep of you, he realized because this wasn't going to end with your life. Pocketing the ring, he took your hand again.

"I might just sell it then if you show up," he tried to make you smile, which it worked, but he also felt the need to reassure you, "I won't get rid of it. Ever."

"Good to know," you let go of his hand again and pulled out the gun in the holster that he had found for you in the station, inside was a round of ammo that you wouldn't need. Pulling out the ammo, save for one of the bullets, you gave him the rounds.

"What? What are you-"

"I'm not... Going to need this," you said, slightly out of breath from the pain you were in, "and I know they fit Matilda. But I'm keeping the gun, and one of the bullets."

It seemed to dawn on him what you meant by your final sentence and he frantically began to protest.

"Hey, wait, no," he shook his head, "no. I can... You don't have to... Let me."

It was the idea that you would have to shoot yourself that made him uncomfortable. The idea that you would need to take your own life upset him. But if you didn't want to turn into one of them, he would do it for you. He would... He...

"We both know you can't," you justified, "and I don't want you to. I could never ask you to. So, you go. You leave Leon, and you find that virus. You get out of here, and you live. You don't do anything stupid or reckless, and you make these bastards pay."

You were adamant, and you left absolutely no room for argument. Even if he wanted to argue, he couldn't. And he wanted to argue. But denial would get him killed, and you wanted him to live. And some part of him wanted to live for you.

"Alright," his voice didn't waver this time as he spoke, "Alright."

He placed his head against yours for a moment when he stood up and squeezed your hand a little tighter in his own when he grabbed it again. Softly, you placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth and ushered him to leave. It felt like he was walking on hot coals the whole time as he walked out the door, he regretted it when he looked back at you at the door, like he was waiting for you to get up and go with him. It just made closing the door behind him a lot harder.

He hadn't really been keeping watch of the time since he arrived in the RPD. He didn't really realize how fast or how slow time was going. But at that moment, outside that door, he really felt the way time flowed. It was impossibly slow, agonizingly so, and it was deadly quiet. Something that happened in only moments felt like it had taken an eternity.

He was used to the sound of a gun by now. It didn't make him flinch anymore. But this time it did. It made his stomach clench and his jaw tighten, his body stiffens. He hated how it sounded more than he ever had before.

The piece of metal in his pocket weighed heavy as he ghosted his hand over it.

Leon was going to find who did this. He was going to make sure nothing like this ever happened again. But most of all, he was going to make them pay.

[sxfik]

let's talk about han seo, hockey and his relationship with vincenzo!

disclaimer: probably more unorganized than usual lol but i had a lot of thoughts on this. feel free to add on!!

hockey has been a connection to han seo that we have seen throughout the drama. hockey is a traditionally masculine sport, and focused on team building and brotherhood between the participants. hockey is also a violent sport, often very rough on the body and rigorous. the show utilizes hockey as a symbol of masculinity, and a representation of brotherhood, especially for han seo.

from very early on, hockey sets the dynamic between the brothers: the ice is a punishment and a reminder of han seo's relationship with his brother who uses hockey as a punishment for his brother's mistakes as well as a way to let off steam. the first notable utilization of hockey was prior to jun woo's reveal as han seok. we watch as han seo explains himself to han seok and han seok repeatedly hitting the puck into his stomach when angry and unsatisfied with the answers. this is the first real relationship we see between the two brothers. han seok uses han seo as a punching bag in order to let off his anger that he feels on a day to day basis and as a reminder to han seo of his place beneath him.

we can use this scene to infer about their relationship in their childhood. Mr. Nam has mentioned that han seo was abused by his brother as a child and has gone to therapy his whole life. as a young adult, he turned to drugs and partying and it is implied that he has wound up in the police station many times. han seok has used han seo as his punching bag and han seo molded his personality and actions in order to avoid provoking his brother. han seok has constantly reminded han seo that he is beneath him, both in blood along with intelligence and stature, and in order to satisfy him, han seo leveled himself down.

it’s important to note that this is certainly not true about han seo. we have seen that han seo picks up on situations much faster than han seok thinks (gummy bear scene), but refuses to let his brother notice as it can result in more abuse. the only reason han seo comes off as a bumbling chairman is because he isn’t as “cunning” as vincenzo or jang han seok.

it's also important to note that while there have been moments of a cordial relationship between the two, it is still an abusive relationship. even after moments where han seok has shown kindness to han seo, it is no excuse for the abuse that han seo has suffered. it is also not a reason to say that han seok is caring brother despite his abuse as he does not care for han seo beyond preserving him as an escape out of jail or death.

it's safe to say that han seo has never had a real brotherly relationship neither has he had a role model in his life and it shows in the early episodes. we see han seo mimic han seok's hockey tactics and throw pucks at his advisors (idk what to call them tbh) and even force the board members to drink spicy food without water (maybe this was a way han seok punished him when he was younger). han seo mimics his brother and attempts to be like him in these episodes. that is also why he sends thugs after cha-young and vincenzo: he is attempting his brother's scare tactics but it is clear to see that han seo is not the one for strategizing and well, being a villain. furthermore, we have noticed han seok's attachment to hockey sticks and how he deals out punishment (i.e. killing the prosecutor with a hockey stick, defending himself against intruders with the hockey stick, smashing in the car window glass with hockey stick) and han seo has bound to pick up this toxic relationship with hockey, and as an extension in the way he views his relationship with his brother.

we see this change as we watch the scene where han seo and vincenzo are on the ice together. both are stood opposing each other but in the same pose and in hockey gear. this establishes them as equals as both are equipped with the same armor and the same attack sticks. both of them have an equal chance at the puck. it heavily contrasts the scene we see where we see han seok, fully in armor and equipped to attack, and han seo in the lone suit with no protection or means to attack him back. we also note that when han seo scores, we see a genuine smile on his face and as vincenzo threatens light heartedly to "come here" and makes a move towards him, he playfully skates away. this is similar to how many brother's play on the playground together as kids: competitive but never cut-throat or attempting to maim each other. we also note han seo asking from approval from vincenzo, like a little kid would from their older sibling, asking if they did good, and vincenzo responds like an older sibling with playfully underplaying their contribution. we also see vincenzo granting han seo good advice to use/train his brain and asks him about his studies, the same way an older brother checks up on a younger one.

we can note that han seo feels comfortable around vincenzo in a way we don't see with his brother. vincenzo makes a move to throw a puck in his direction when he drops honorifics but we don't see han seo flinch in the same way that he does with han seok. even when vincenzo makes moves towards him, or gets closer he doesn't flinch, he just glides back. it shows that han seo trusts Vincenzo in a way he hasn't before. he also shyly thanks him for the advice and expresses a certain love to vincenzo, beyond just the admiration that everyone has for him (aka the vincenzo effect).

of course, we see han seo skate toward vincenzo and losing control but vincenzo catches him. he is caught off guard as he is caught though which might be telling us that han seok would have never made a move to protect his brother like that. even though i've seen many people criticizes the usage of "is this love" during that sequence, i don't believe it's used mockingly like adrenaline is. "is this love" is the song used when vincenzo develops a serious relationship with someone, most notably cha-young. what this song is doing in this scene is establishing a sibling relationship between vincenzo and han seo and noting that there is a specialty to their partnership, just like how cha-young and vincenzo's relationships are special.

most importantly (and what breaks my heart), han seo asks vincenzo repeatedly whether he will kill him. while this fear is warranted as han seo has aided han seok in many ways prior to him seeing the light and teaming up with vincenzo, we also know that han seo was fearful for his life with han seok. han seo walks on a thin line with han seok and never knowing when his life was going to end at his hands. han seok continually teased him and threatened him (we can infer this from the gummy bear and "are you going to kill me like you killed our father" and when han seok held the knife to his neck). not to mention, han seo now carries a watch gifted by han seok: a reminder that han seok has control over his life. han seo is continually fearful of when his brother will murder him and take that watch as his next trophy. except this time, we can note that han seo says something along the lines "i know you won't but i can't help but feeling uneasy." it really enforces how far han seok's abuse has hurt han seo. even with reassurances, he is still fearful that his brother, or someone he views as his brother will take it away from him.

it's important to note that hockey is a sport that emphasizes team building and brotherhood also encourages a little rough housing. han seok and hockey vs. vincenzo and hockey are the two opposite ends of what hockey is supposed to be as a sport. han seok and hockey empahsize the violence, and rough nature of hockey, where han seok is using the puck and the hockey sticks as weapons to attack defenseless people (han seok, those prosecutors, that poor car and also zumba snake choi and mr. han). han seok uses it to crush down han seo instead and leaves behind the team aspect. vincenzo on the other hand focuses more on the team building and brotherhood MORE than the violence, their scenes focused more on vincenzo giving advice and building han seo up rather than crushing him and pushing him down. we see han seo actually scoring and both of them being playful with each other, building a rapport with each other.

in episode 18, we can note that han seo is acting more and more like vincenzo (like how in the earlier episodes han seo acted like his brother). when revealing his hand in han seok's demise, he acts similar to vincenzo, leaning in and explaining how he pulled the rug from underneath his feet. we also see a new kind of boldness, a fire behind his eyes we don't see before this moment when he speaks to han seok. the same sport that was used to torment han seo has provided him the support and advice he has needed to turn his life around. i believe that having a genuine support system for the very first time has provided han seo the platform to change and grow, as well as gain confidence in himself and his abilities. in episode 19 and 20 i want to see han seo and vincenzo grow together and evolve into a relationship where both are comfortable and able to give mutual support and love to each other.

[uramichislefttiddie]

Moriarty The Patriot Hc

||Contains: Sebastian Moran||

||Warnings: fluff, mention of scars?||

Ok just had a sudden urge to write something for Sebastian out of nowhere??

You were staring off into the distance, eyes beginning to flutter close from the lack of sleep from previous nights where thoughts had kept you awake making you view the future different a lot of the time from what you had wished it to be like.

Your thoughts were soon cut off from a soft snore from the man who had now curled into you, arms gripping onto you not wanting to let you go, hair all over the place from his usual style. You carefully turned around to look at him without wanting to wake him up, it was very rare he actually got sleep especially now with all these events now going on. You noticed his shirt had slightly lifted up allowing part of his toned torso to be shown, at first glance you only saw it slightly and thought it was your eyes but when you looked again you realised he had a scar covering his right side, you had failed to ever realise he had a scar here, it was an old looking one however probably from when he was a colonel.

Your hand had moved to trace over his scar, if anything you thought it made his body pretty, it was unique, the way it sat across his torso was so intriguing to you. All of a sudden a firm hand had grabbed your wrist making you cower, afraid of what was about to happen, it wasn’t that Sebastian had ever hurt you or even threatened to it was just a well known fact that he could be very intimidating.

“What do you think your doing?” His voice had turned groggy from him having just abruptly awoken up. His hand still held a firm grip on your wrist, you didn’t want to admit it but his grip had begun to hurt, cutting off circulation. Sebastian had noticed you wince and looked down at your hand, he quickly removed it and went wide eyed not meaning to have hurt you. “I’m sorry, it was just sudden and was unusual to me.” You let out a sigh of relief knowing he wasn’t truly that mad at you about it however you still moved a bit away from his body giving him some space.

As you did so, he looked at you giving you puppy dog eyes as if to say he didn’t want you to move away from him and missed your warmth next to him. When he opened his arms for you that’s when you moved back to him, resting your head on his shoulder breathing in his scent. “Like I said it was just an unusual feeling to me y/n, sorry again for making you scared.” “No don’t worry I understand.” You looked up at him and gave him a reassuring smile to which he returned with the same gesture which was a rare sighting to see.

You had begun combing his hair with your fingers knowing this was the best way to get him to fall asleep but however he hadn’t even started to close his eyes, you knew there was something he was wanting to say, you placed your hand under his chin making him face you. “Seb what’s on your mind, tell me so I can try and help.” He looked anywhere except your eyes, every time he went to open his mouth no words were able to escape. Finally after a minute or so of quite he looked you in your eyes and began talking. “May sound weird but can you carry on with what you were doing before, it was kind of a nice feeling.” You gave him a confused look wondering what he was meaning. “Oh y/n you know what I mean this is embarrassing enough as it.” You still had no clue what he meant.

After he let out a sigh at your confusion he softly grabbed your hand and placed it to where you had just been tracing over his scar before hand. You had finally gotten the message and let out a laugh at his antiques, he was a strange man in his ways, always having this stern demeanour about him but than when he was just with you it was like someone having their first crush and not knowing how to act. “Really Sebastian, you couldn’t have just said so?” You smirked up at him.

“No…I could not have just said so actually, thank you for asking.” He said half sarcastically, both of you breaking into a laughter. You began doing exactly what you had been which was tracing his scar on his torso, soon enough Sebastian had knocked out obviously in a deep sleep as all you could hear was snoring from him. “Great” you thought to yourself, “your making me want to hit you right now Moran!” He was not a pretty snorer at all some nights you were worried he’d wake neighbours up with his awful snoring.

———

The orange hue of the sunrise seeped through the crack of the curtain lighting up the room, Sebastian had peacefully slept all night surprisingly however you on the other hand was still wide awake, eyes bloodshot with eye bags accompanying your face, all your night consisted was of Sebastians snoring keeping you wide awake no matter how sleepy you got.

You felt movement next to you, looking beside you Sebastian had finally awoke, hair everywhere making him look like he had just been dragged through a bush backwards. “You alright? You look almost dead if I must say.” You had to admit his morning voice was always something to die for, his heavy British accent coming through very clearly. “Yeah just couldn’t get to sleep is all.” He stared at you knowing fine well it was him that made you not be able to sleep at all, he was always told he was a loud snorer by people but he never believed it until now, seeing as your face was clear evidence of just how he really slept.

Before he got out of bed he grabbed you by your cheeks (I mean your face nothing else, dirty mf) and gave you a kiss with a comforting smile before walking to the door to go downstairs. “You get some sleep and I’ll make you breakfast in an hour or so, is that all good with you love?” He quickly turned around from the door frame noticing he received no reply as he looked towards you, he couldn’t help but let out a laugh, seeing your form spread out face first in the cushions, completely flat out from the restless night you just had.

[wizkiddx]

Congratulations on 500 followers!! Could you do nr 2 with Tom please <3

thankyou <33 im very in my feels abt friends to lover atm, so ik this is a completely unoriginal concept but here we are

warning: nothing much- maybe homesickness? (+ the fact tom has poor choice in popcorn )

^^^ sorry I couldn't not put this on here and I will reuse it lots n lots

/////////////////////////

“Right I got two options annnnddddd there is only one correct answer.” Tom hummed up at you, pulling his tired gaze away from the phone screen and up towards the kitchen where you were standing triumphantly - having just raided his cupboards. From behind your back you whipped out a bag of popcorn in each hand.

“Sweet…. or salty?” Sighing with a small chuckle Tom shook his head at your playfulness. He didn’t know how you did it but you always always made his smile.

“I’m not a psychopath…” You huffed in relief, already turning around to throw the salty back in the cupboard where it belonged. “So salty of course.”

You were trapped in a house with an absolute psychopath.

You scowled at him, for having such poor taste, expecting some sort of argument to start. That wasn’t the case though, instead he just stared at you expectantly.

He must really really be unhappy.

You’d sensed it on set that morning - it wasn’t hard to miss. Not when it was your best friend, who for the past two months you’d been spending at least 6 hours a day with whilst shooting. Even when you were supposed to have a day off, when Tom had some solo shots or vice versa, you’d still come to keep the other company. It didn’t make sense but you both just sort of liked it that way.

This wasn’t your first rodeo working together either. Your first joint project had been almost four years ago, when both of you were barely adults, still figuring everything out. Ever since it had been bumping into each other every so often, always with an easy and effortless relationship.

Your current director had noted your chemistry at an awards show (the man never switched off) and decided in that moment he HAD to cast you together for a project. And a year later, here you both were, shooting in Australia for what was set to be a record breaking new release.

And it had been going great - better than great even. But as soon as Tom had shown up to makeup this morning, you’d known something was up. It was fair to assume it was something from home, maybe even just a bit of homesickness, or perhaps something more severe. Either way, the situation was probably exacerbated by the fact he didn’t have his brother or bestfriend or manager or normal syltist with him right now. Tom was pretty renowned within the industry for always having a massive entourage - which was normally made up with his family and friends. This time though he was going it solo.

Today had been long and you’d had to do press at stupid oclock in the morning last night for your current release - which meant your plan had always been to leave promptly and collapse into bed as soon as physically possible.

But Tom needed your company. So you hadn’t. Instead, you’d somewhat subtly invited yourself to his rented house for a movie night - blaming it on your director wanting you both to study the relationship dynamics in ‘out of sight’ (a J Lo and Clooney romance movie).

“You think you know a person and then they loose all your respect… just like that.” You sigh jokingly, gesturing to the bag of ‘foul’ popcorn your costar seemed to like.

“Well we’ve come to a crossroads.”

“It’s been nice knowing you but this…” you scoffed and dramatically rolled your eyes “… I see no way out.”

“Isn’t it better if we have a bag each? Then I might manage to actually get some before you scoff them all.”

You yelped in protest, though really you were just grateful he was still up for a bit of a laugh. He had been much less jokey the whole day, though was seeming to warm up a bit.

Once you had poured the two bags of popcorn into two separate bowels and prepared the film on TV; you plopped yourself onto Tom’s sofa, so your back was against the corner and your feet were over his lap (it wasn’t weird, just normal for the two of you). Instinctively, Tom lightly grabbed your ankles, repositioning you on his thigh slightly before leaning across the pull the blanket over the both of you. Whilst he smoothed out the crinkles in the fluffy navy fabric you took the opportunity to poke your toe into his side - garnering his attention.

“I take it you don’t wanna talk about it?” After he froze, Tom then nodded jerkily. “But if you change your mind, you know I’m here right?” His demeanour changed at your second statement as his body literally sagged into the cushions, with a grateful if small smile.

He respond by mouthing an ‘I know’ and that was enough for you. Shuffling down the side a bit you pressed play, settling in for the evening. Tom still had a hand resting on your ankles, occasionally rubbing his thumb up and down the bony bit.

Honestly you didn’t really see what your director was going on about when he raved about their on screen chemistry and it seemed that neither did Tom. It wasn’t a scathing commentary that gave it away, instead it was his silence. Which you quickly realised was the he had drifted off, his head lolling a little so he was facing you, palms now completely lax on your legs. It was whilst you were just taking in the sight before you, that a buzzing cut through the otherwise soft noise from the TV - which you had turned down for Tom’s sake.

It wasn’t your phone but you instinctively still reached for it from the coffee table and seeing that the name just read “Harry H” you thought it’d be fine to answer.

“Harry?” You whispered into the receiver, slightly cupping your hand round your mouth just to make sure you weren’t too loud for Tom.

“Hello?”

“Harry it’s me”

“Who?” You’d met Harry countless times, though given the fact Tom had been alone all shoot - you shouldn’t of expected the kid to be able to recognise your voice.

“Oh sorry Y/n um Y/n L/n”

“Oh no my fault sorry Y/n. How are you?” The conversation was jilted, you could practically feel the awkward energy radiating all the way from the otherside of the world.

“I’m alright thanks, how about you.”

“Yeh not bad I uhm… I - is my brother there?” Oooh. How to answer that question.

“Um sort of, we er… we were having a movie night and he’s fallen asleep. It’s why I’m whispering like a weirdo.” Harry laughed at that and you continued. “Is everything okay? You need me to wake him?”

“No no, mum just said he was having a rough time so was going to cheer him up with my exquisite sense of humour but if you’ve bored him to death then no need.”

“What can I say I’m just talented. Anyway I should be heading back to mine anyway so um I’ll let you go?”

“Oh yeh no worries, and uhm thanks-um thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

“Someone has to” You chuckled softly back, before bidding a final farewell to Harry.

Having hung up the phone, you leaned over to gently place it back on the coffee table but making a mental note to put it on charge before you left. Your next job was to manoeuvre your legs away from him without disturbing him but before you could even start planning the movement, you noticed his weary eyes blinked over at you. Freezing, your mouth made a little ‘o’ shape as you winced at yourself for disrupting his peace - today really wasn’t the day for that. There was a silence as Tom swallowed thickly, attempting to shake off the heavy lull of rest before he spoke. “Will you stay with me… please.”

Undoubtedly, your body didn’t play it as cool as you wanted it to. Thinking you’d heard him wrong, your chin protruded forward and his eyes widened. “ Sorry not like-not like that just um-just on the sofa… theres-theres spare blankets and I can-“

“-course T, no worries…Oh and um your brother just phoned if you-“

“I know.” He spoke softly and with a nod, but didn’t move at all, apparently no interest in calling his brother back.

With a stammered nod, you stood up, finally removing your legs from his touch in order to nip to the loo. You splashed your face with water, ate some toothpaste ( better than not brushing your teeth at all) before going to collect Tom’s quilt off his bed. By the time you re-entered the living room, Tom hadn’t appeared to have moved at all. The hood of his purple jumped was still up, the blanket still only half covering him, the excess lying cold were you had been sitting. He laughed lightly at you trying to wrangle with the king size duvet and get it in without tripping over yourself or knocking anything over.

“You sure you don’t mind? I’m just being stupid and-“

“Honestly I’m too tired to walk back to mine so this is perfect.”

“You live across the road.”

“Thats like 50 steps too far.” You deadpanned back, as he raised his eyebrows and locked you direct eye contact - which you very stubbornly returned.

The both of you sat like that for a minute, Tom eventually gave up with a sigh as he motioned for you to lie back.

There wasn’t an issue at all with space. A listers rental homes were never lacking in space - the grey sofa was a U shape, with ample space for the both of you to lie down. Each of you took a respective corner, your legs meeting in the middle and gently brushing against each others.

“Thanks for babysitting me today by the way.”

“I wasn-“ You were about to deny it, except one look and Tom saw straight through you.

“Thankyou Y/n/n” Seeing there was no way out of receiving his thanks, you instead opted to just shut him up. Nudging his leg with yours and leaving it touching you murmured you last words of the evening - eyes already closed.

“Fuck off Holland, ‘m tryna sleep.”

~~~~ let me know if you have any feedback or anything (but pls not too mean this isn't proof read so blame that) <33 ~~~~~~

tagging : @thefernandasantana @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove @msmimimerton @thegirlwiththeimpala

[from-a-reckless-writer]

here lads have an angsty supercorp soulmate story

It starts exactly 24 hours after Kara’s departure. 

It’s subtle at first. It actually reminds Lena of the first few days after they met. 

The slow but steady build-up of pain manifesting itself into little things; shaky hands, dizzy spells, chest pains. The pills help, of course. She’s already ingested 5 pills in the span of 3 hours and she’s contemplating taking more. Just to keep the pain—threatening to overtake her—at bay. But what good would she be if Alex finds her passed out on the floor? Veins chock-full of narcotics? 

So, she wills her hands to stop shaking and pushes on. She sends a text to Jess to send a shipment of pills to her home address; tells her to be discreet. 

She can do it. She’s done it before. She can fucking do it again. And she will bring Kara home. 

Because every moment that passes with them apart, means a step closer to Lena’s death. 

You might think she’s exaggerating, but really she isn’t. See, Kara’s her soul mate, not just in the figure of speech wax-poetic sense but literally Kara’s her soul mate. 

But her being a Luthor of course, soul mates wouldn’t come easy. None of it had ever been easy. Why would this one be an exception? It wasn’t unheard of, no, there were a few rare cases of it being recorded. Of course, Lena would be one of those people. Why wouldn’t the universe add shitty soul mate luck into the long list of misfortunes in Lena’s life? What’s one more curse, right? 

See, Kara’s her soul mate but...Lena isn’t Kara’s.

“You look like shit, Luthor. You’re allowed to take a break you know?” 

It’s Alex who breaks her out of her reverie. She prays to God that Alex doesn't notice her shaking hands. She’s well aware she looks like shit. She feels like shit, she doesn’t need Alex of all people to point that one out. But now, Lena notices that the whole place is empty, she didn’t even notice J’onn slip out. She didn’t even notice Alex coming in too, really. 

Brainy had long passed-out in one of the beds in the MedBay in the 2nd level of The Tower, Nia taking up the opposite bed. There was a brief moment when she walked in that made her feel tempted to occupy the third bed and take a break. But then, her chest tightened and a flare of pain lit up her whole insides, it was reason enough to keep her feet moving and back unto the computers trying to pinpoint Kara’s location. 

“I know,” she replies, “But it’s really not necessary, Alex. I’ll rest after.” 

She doesn’t need rest, what she needs is Kara to be here. 

She refuses to look at Alex, fingers flying across the screen. Alex shifts closer to her, lays a hand on her right arm prompting her to stop. Her eyes land on Alex's hand and continue up to Alex’s eyes. 

“We’ll find her, Lena. But you have to rest. I’m serious, Luthor. Come on,” Alex persists, wrapping her hand more firmly and tugging at Lena to follow her. 

She doesn’t say that rest will do her more harm than good. She doesn’t say that if she closes her eyes all she would see is Kara’s body floating all alone in space and the pain would start anew.

First, her chest and then travelling up the rest of her body until all there is is pain. 

She doesn’t say that she needs to work in order to distract her from the pain. 

Instead, she holds her tongue, lets Alex bring her to the 2nd level and tries to have the most fitful sleep of her life. 

***

It gets worse on the 5th day of the second week. It really isn’t a surprise considering this is the longest she’s had to go without Kara around. 

She’s taken mega-doses of painkillers in anticipation for today. Last night was a nightmare, she had to bite down on a hand towel as waves of pain assaulted her, again and again and again.

When morning came, it slowly subsided. Once feeling had returned to her legs she ran into the kitchen and swallowed 3 pills immediately. 

It doesn’t matter if she’s taken 3 or 4 or a whole bottle today, because it will just get worse and worse the longer Kara isn’t by her side. 

And so, she drags herself into The Tower again, because she needs to finally find a way to bring her back. 

She tries to ignore the tightening of her chest even though she’s really having a hard time breathing now. Not to mention the pain behind her eyes that is bit by bit making it difficult for her to coordinate with Brainy’s computations. 

She’s taken to keeping a bottle of pills on her person now. Opting to take them dry as if they were mint candies to keep her tongue moving while programming lines of codes. 

She thinks she’s still being subtle. 

Well, she is.

Until she isn’t. 

She crumples to the floor in front of everyone and a guttural scream of pain breaks free from her lips. 

***

When she wakes it’s to Alex sitting by her bedside. 

She lets out a groan in response to the sore feeling of her entire body. It’s like the time they were forced to do team building exercises all day in Mt. Helena and Lena nearly passed out. 

Alex hands her a bottle of water. She sips greedily before handing it back and wiping her mouth. 

“Hey? How you feeling?”

“Like I wanna die.”

Alex sighs and Lena intentionally avoids her eyes. 

“It’s Kara isn’t it?” Alex says and Lena doesn’t bother with lying anymore.

“It is.”

“How you survived almost two weeks away from her, I wouldn’t know. Two days away from Kelly—” Alex breaks off, inhales deeply and then sighs again, “That’s already torture for me.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” She retorts flatly, hands fiddling with the rough edges of the blanket. Alex looks like she wants to say something about that but Lena beats her there. 

“How?” She asks, gesturing to the IV drip. How am I not feeling pain right now? How am I still breathing? How am I still alive?

“The DEO created a special fluid for agents,” Alex reveals, “They distribute it to agents on field assignments. That way, them and their partners don’t die from pain. Good thing, J’onn had a stash hidden here, well, we always thought it would be for me and Kelly. Never expected you, Luthor.”

Lena takes that in for a moment. So, the DEO had a special formula of Dextrose to stave off the pain of soulmate separation and apparently she’s using up all the remaining bags of it. 

And it’s not even supposed to be for her. 

“Don’t worry about it. Brainy can replicate the formula.”

Worry must’ve shown on her face. So, she works on schooling her features again, she knows that Alex is itching to ask her questions but is trying to be polite. 

There’s really no use hiding anything now though. 

“K-Kara’s my soulmate,” she finally says out loud, and she’s always thought that it’s supposed to feel cathartic and freeing but instead it just feels heavy. 

“But I’m not hers,” she quickly finishes, better to rip the band-aid off. She briefly looks at Alex, whose face doesn’t give her anything; mouth a tight line and eyes shining with curiosity. 

She doesn’t know if Alex had ever had a conversation with Kara about soul mates before. Had they talked about it? Had Kara ever mentioned Lena acting too clingy whenever they don’t see each other for a short period of time? Had Kara ever told Alex if she would want a soul mate of her own?

But the look and silence from Alex’s side makes Lena refrain from asking. 

Instead, she starts to tell her how it had hit her the instant Kara walked in her office. How there was a zing! and her brain had immediately screamed HER. That’s the one. She’s the one. 

How when they met eyes and Kara had told her her name it felt like Lena’s soul finally found her home. 

“I asked for her name and I kind of thought she’d wait for me to get out of the office,” Lena trails off and Alex takes it for what it is. 

Their first meeting was all sparks for Lena but then, the conversation kept going and going and Clark had tried interrogating her and Kara didn’t do anything. 

Didn’t approach her afterwards, didn’t show any reaction that might’ve given Lena a clue that she felt the way Lena did. 

A conclusion was easily reached. 

Kara was hers but she wasn’t Kara’s. 

After the initial shock settled in, Lena set to work. Because that was what she did best. Work out a solution to everything and anything that poses a problem. 

How many people have dreamed about meeting their soul mate? How many years had Lena sat there hoping that tomorrow maybe, maybe she’ll finally meet them? She never expected this, never expected her soul to find a home that isn’t hers. 

Staying away from Kara was a non-starter, it’s only been a day since they parted but Lena can already feel the beginnings of pain. Slow but sharp shots of throbbing from behind her eyes then came the shaky hands then the dizziness and then— 

They became friends and Lena made sure Kara didn’t know anything about her growing need to be close to her; didn't let Kara know about the fact that the universe made Lena its most epic punchline yet. 

She agreed to scheduled game nights and movie nights and lunch dates. She never knew the pain of soulmate separation during those early days. Kara was always around; bringing her a salad, covering an L-Corp gala, crashing on Lena’s couch. 

“It was easy, you know? Kara was always there. What are friends for?” Lena mimics Kara and then repeats somberly, “It was easy, Alex.”

Or at least, Lena kept telling herself it was easy. She had it easy. She didn’t have to think about painkiller pills or cutting her business trips short—because the pain becomes unbearable too soon—like so many of her board members do. 

She had it easy with Kara, she can just call and she’ll be there. 

Until, Kara started going MIA. And for three days pain overtook her entire life. The pain made her unable to think clearly, the pills kicking in at the last minute. 

“You haven't been around. Supergirl's been there for me. Person who judges me on the very premise of my last name, but my best friend hasn't,” she accuses because Goddamnit Kara has no idea what kind of shit Lena had to endure with her going away with no warning. 

Logically, Lena knows it’s partly her fault. 

She knows that if she only just told Kara that she needs her to live, Kara would stay. But she doesn’t want anything to change. 

Of course, Kara would stay, it was the kind of thing a person like her would do. 

Kara would take care of her, whatever Lena needed she would give. 

But Lena didn’t want things that way. 

She wants Kara to want her the same way she wants her. 

But no, Lena’s not going to tell her that. She is never going to know. She will find an alternative. So, she injects as much venom as she can into that accusation, “B-but maybe it’s better if I leave.” 

She makes Kara leave. 

She just got her cure back and immediately Lena had pushed her away. The moment Kara stepped out of the door, a dull throb already kicked in her chest; as if telling Lena she was making a big mistake. 

She regretted that night so much, Jess had to drag her drunken body out of her office. 

Then it became normal again and Lena went back to not worrying about body pains again. 

Because a different kind of pain is trying to make itself known. 

A gaping hole in her heart that is entirely unrelated to the biological consequences of being separated from your soul mate. 

She was falling in love. 

She was falling in love and she wasn’t prepared for how it would hurt to have Kara not love her back. She can endure the physical pain, there are pills for that. 

But there wasn’t any type of medication to see your other half everyday and not have them see you as theirs. 

When Lex told her Kara’s secret. Something broke inside of her. Which was saying something, considering she was getting her heart broken every single day that Kara wouldn’t look her way. 

But to know how stupid she’s been? To realize that the flutter of her heart whenever Supergirl was near was her brain telling her it was Kara? 

There was no word for that. 

“I think, I kept rejecting the idea of Supergirl being Kara you know?” Lena huffs out, laughs drily, “Imagine how fucking painful it would be, Alex, if Supergirl was my soul mate. This person who didn’t trust me wholly, who lies behind my back, imagine if she was my soul mate? It would have felt humiliating. My body knew better, though,” she admitted sadly. 

“When Lex told me, all the little painful outbursts every time Supergirl flew away? It made sense. Everything made sense, but at the same time? Everything hurt too.”

She tried hurting her back. Created Hope. Experimented with Q-waves. Foolishly used Myriad. Teamed up with Lex.

But even through all of those? The separation pain never knocked her out. 

Even when they were fighting, Kara was still always around. Even when the world—the fucking multiverse got reset. The pain wasn’t enough to knock her out. Not like today. 

Because Kara was always lingering around convincing her not to join Lex, crossing paths in CatCo, flying into her home even if it was to call her a villain. 

All of those interactions were still sustenance for Lena. 

But this? This separation? This knowledge that Kara was somewhere out there, unreachable. That she could be lightyears away in space and it has been two weeks since Lena had last saw her, it has her every molecule shouting to go find Kara. 

“It’s never been like this before,” Lena confesses, “I thought I could do it without-”

“Help?” Alex supplies and Lena finally turns to her and she feels a hand squeeze her. 

“Yeah.” She mutters back softly. 

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Luthor. You’re part of the team now whether you like it or not. We are going to help you, we’re going to find a temporary solution for that pain and then we’ll get back to work and we’ll find Kara.”

[sit-down-and-shut-up]

time- a. hotchner

SUMMARY: you get kidnapped lol

WARNINGS: kidnapping (duh), some injuries but everyone lives, aaron being m a d, and reader being a freaking baddie

WORDS: too many 6604

A/N: sorry that it’s been a hot minute since i posted, im lazy

Aaron glanced up as the workday finally drew to a close, watching you wave goodbye to the team and stroll towards the unit chief’s office, just in time to see JJ as she ascended the steps on her way to the room as well. You started to wave, but JJ murmured something you couldn’t make out and you stopped. Aaron’s blood ran cold, and he mentally cursed himself for being naive enough to believe that things would work out for once. He turned to look at Emily and Morgan through the blinds, who’d been talking near Emily’s desk, and saw their eyes trained on you and JJ. Emily swore under her breath, then headed to the conference room with Spencer and Derek not far behind.

+++++

Aaron sat down next to you in the conference room, meeting your eyes and giving you a halfhearted smile. You returned the gesture and went back to scanning the grisly photos before you. He zoned out as JJ spoke, giving the rundown on each of the girls that had been abducted, then murdered mere hours later. The murders seemed somewhat random, with the exception that the victims were all girls in their upper 20’s. In fact, they were all 29, just like you were.

Something clicked in your mind, but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions. You could feel Aaron’s steely gaze on you, and you wondered briefly if he could tell what you were thinking. You were lost in your thoughts, to the point where you didn’t hear Aaron’s deep “Wheels up in 30.” After everyone had left the conference room, Aaron turned back to see you still staring at the photos, searching for something you couldn’t quite name among the blood spatters and empty faces. He walked over to you and gently tapped your shoulder, causing your head to whip up to face him. Realization washed over your eyes, and you mumbled an apology.

Aaron shook his head in response, saying “I’m sorry. I was hoping we’d actually get to go out tonight.” You sighed, then replied.

“Who knows? Maybe the unsub will be caught by the time we get there and we can go get dinner or something.” You laughed as you said it, but your laughter was tinged with a resigned sadness Aaron despised, wishing he could take you somewhere you’d never be forced to feel this way again. Aaron watched you for a few seconds longer, as your face darkened and you grabbed your files and left the room, heading to his office, where both of your go-bags were. He wanted to tell you so much, but wasn’t sure how to start. He wanted to tell you that he’d been planning to propose this evening, that he wanted to be with you forever. But he couldn’t.

+++++

Aaron noticed you lost in your thoughts again on the plane ride while the rest of the team went over the case. The sheer amount of bodies was enough to give someone pause. In addition, the unsub took a girl each Thursday, but never kept them for more than a few hours. Why?

The plane ride felt fairly short. You were hit with a wave of nostalgia as the plane touched down in New York, where you’d gone to college years earlier, and worked before you were transferred to the Behavioral Analysis Unit and moved to Quantico. As you walked into the FBI field office with the rest of the BAU, you couldn’t stop your mind from remembering the last time you’d been in the building, when working a terrorism case alongside Agent Joyner four years earlier.

She’d been killed immediately by a bomb in your SUV, and metal had been lodged in your left leg, cutting the femoral artery and nearly causing you to bleed out. If not for your Aaron, you would’ve died there, on the cold pavement. When Aaron came to visit you while you recovered from surgery, you managed to slur out that you loved him. At the time, he blamed it on the drugs you were on, until he showed up at your hospital room again a few hours later, to drive you home. You’d suffered hearing loss as well, and coupled with your leg injury, you couldn’t go in the field or on the plane for a while. As he helped you up and handed you the crutches you’d be relying on for nearly a year, you met his eyes and said confidently, “I meant what I said earlier.”

He’d paused for a second, before his lips spread into a rare smile, and he said, “I love you too.” You’d always known the relationship wouldn’t be easy, considering his recent divorce and your unconventional jobs, but you were fine with it. Being with Aaron was good enough.

Present-day Aaron subtly placed a hand on the small of your back, a sign of encouragement he’d adopted over the years. You glanced up at him and nodded, silently letting him know you were okay. He dropped his hand, and held it out to the new director of the New York field office: Agent Milenka, an enthusiastic but imposing woman you’d met at the Academy when you were younger. You caught Morgan glaring at her for a second, reminding you that Morgan almost got that job. Still, you knew that Morgan loved you all too much to leave the BAU for a job directing the New York field office. The team was his rock, the weight that tethered him to reality when he was at his lowest. Aaron introduced Milenka to the rest of your team, until she cut him off when he got to you.

“I know her,” she declared loudly, “I was her firearms trainer at the Academy, but she had to show me up and be better with a gun than I am.” Spite dripped from her words, but the mischievous smile on her face told you she wasn’t really upset. Aaron nodded slightly, caught off-guard by her remark, then interjected to ask where his team could set up.

Agent Milenka led all of you to an empty conference room, with the case files already arranged neatly and a blank evidence board at the front of the room. She turned on her heel and stared firmly at the team. If you hadn’t known her for years, you’d assume she was going to attempt to assert control over the case, but instead she said, “My agents have come to see this office as a family, and probably won’t take too well to the fact that I’ve called you in. If any of them give you hell, tell me, and I’ll make the devil look like a cuddly teddy bear.” She pivoted on her heel to leave, then turned back around. “Agent L/N, my office.”

+++++

You were shocked, to be honest. This woman could bring grown men to their knees, and now she sat in front of you, spinning in a swivel chair, teasing you over your obvious infatuation with Aaron Hotchner.

“Really, Milenka, I gotta get back to the team,” you sighed, rubbing your temples.

“Fine”, she grunted, making a shooing motion with her hand. “But here’s what I meant to tell you. I’m guessing you and your team want to know why it took this many bodies for me to call you in. I mean, I’d be wondering that, too. The bodies were all dumped two days ago, even though they’d all been dead for various amounts of time, so I’m guessing the unsub wanted to make sure I had to call you guys. Keep that in mind. He knows how this works.” The humor and mischief was gone from the agent’s voice, and in that moment you knew how she’d risen through the ranks of the FBI so quickly. Something about her made you want to do everything you could to solve the case as quickly as possible. She wasn’t someone you could let down.

You grimaced, then nodded, unable to say anything, and left her office, getting coffee from the espresso machine for you and your teammates as you walked back to the conference room. As you passed around the cups, Aaron watched you expectantly, obviously waiting for you to relay whatever information Agent Milenka had told you, and so you did. The reactions among the team members were the same, set jaws and darkening eyes. You didn’t know where to start with the case, until you remembered the idea you’d gotten back in D.C. You leapt from the black desk chair you’d just sat down in and practically ran to the evidence board, grabbing a red dry-erase marker and organizing the victim’s pictures from the first to the last to be abducted. You circled the eyes on some of the pictures, the hair on others, the widow’s peaks on some, and other various defining features.

“He’s working up to someone specific,” Spencer muttered as you worked. You whipped around, pointing a finger at him and downing the last of your coffee.

“Yes! Okay, so, look at this: The first and last girl are wildly different, but when you look at the chronological order of the victims, each one gains another characteristic that the next one didn’t have, like he’s working up to getting one specific girl, and kept killing those that looked increasingly similar to his real target!” You blurted the words, and watched as your teammates looked on in a mix of awe and horror, at both the board and a piece of paper Spencer had messily written on. Aaron, who was usually so emotionless, looked especially horrified, and scared. You shot Spencer a questioning look, and he held up the paper he’d shown the rest of the team. He’d taken the first letter of each woman’s name, and when lined up, they spelled out a message.

Your name.

+++++

“You’re off the case.” Aaron said, crossing his arms over his chest as you paced around the empty office he’d practically dragged you to.

“What? If some psycho is after me, I want to be the one to catch him!” You spoke firmly, almost yelling but not quite.

“If some psycho is after you,” Aaron started, sounding much calmer than you had, “I want you to be safe. Sending you out to hunt him down isn’t keeping you safe.”

You scoffed, then yelled, “As long as he’s out there, I’m not safe! If you let me help, we’ll find him faster. I can’t- no, I won’t- just sit here doing nothing while this man kills women just because he’s got some sort of vendetta against me!”

Aaron’s resolve broke down. You could tell from the way his back slumped and he pulled you into his chest. You wrapped your arms around him, basking in the feeling of calm it brought. Your anger dissipated when he held you like that, and he knew it.

He murmured, “I can’t lose you,” into your ear, and your heart broke from the way his voice cracked from fear and sadness. Aaron pulled away far too soon, and gave you a look that you knew meant to stay put, and pulled out his phone to call Penelope Garcia.

A few moments later, Spencer walked in, hands in his pockets. He looked unsure of himself, and you couldn’t figure out why until he said, “Hotch wants me to drive you to the hotel.”

You stared at him silently for a second, then mumbled curses under your breath and stormed out of the room to find your bag. Spencer put an arm out to stop you, then said, “He said he’d bring it for you tonight.”

You glared at him for a moment, before averting your gaze to the suddenly interesting polished linoleum beneath you. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t be mad at you.”

Spencer gave you a small smile, and replied, “It’s okay. You’re stressed. We all are. Hotch just wants you to be safe.”

You nodded, and he led you from the building to the shiny, black SUV parked outside. Aaron jogged out of the building towards you, and grabbed the handle of the vehicle before you could. You met his eyes, and he murmured, “I know you’re mad at me, but I need you to stay in the hotel room, okay? Lock the door, and I’ll be there tonight with your go-bag.” You nodded, and he paused a second before saying, “I love you.”

Your pride got the best of you, and you simply muttered, “I know.”

+++++

You’d been sure that the SUV’s tires were full when you’d arrived in New York, but the flat passenger tire begged to differ. Spencer pulled into a nearby gas station to fill up the tire, something you were fairly sure he’d never done before. You couldn’t help but laugh when he called Morgan to ask what to do, who responded that it would be easier for him to come fill up the tire himself. You mouthed that you had to go to the bathroom, and Spencer nodded as Morgan’s laughter came through the phone. You stifled laughter as you walked into the gas station, grimacing at the smell of sweat and cheap hot dogs.

+++++

Aaron wasn’t sure if he’d ever been so mad. No, mad wasn’t the word. Was there a word that could encapsulate the unadulterated fury coursing through his veins? He paced the conference room like a caged lion, practically screaming at Spencer and Derek through the phone.

“What the hell happened?”

Spencer was crying, he could tell that much from the muffled sobs, and Aaron couldn’t help but think that he might never see you again. He slammed the phone onto the table with nearly enough force to break it, and looked up to see Emily, Rossi, and JJ already halfway out the conference room, before he’d told them what happened. The four of them slid into the two remaining SUVs. Aaron screeched out of the parking lot, gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. Rossi kept shooting him worried glances he pretended not to notice.

“We’ll find her,” Rossi said, “But you need to stay calm for us to do it.”

Aaron nodded. He didn’t trust his voice to work right now. If he tried to speak, he knew he’d probably cry. He pulled into the gas station just before Emily and JJ, and a voice in his head reminded him that this might be the last place you’d ever see. Rossi hopped out of the car, giving Aaron a sympathetic look as he did so.

+++++

The team had been at the gas station for almost three hours, interviewing customers, collecting evidence, and talking to workers. Multiple people reported seeing a woman similar to who Aaron described enter the bathroom, but no one saw her leave.There was a window in the girl’s bathroom that had been broken from the inside, with blood on both the window and the glass. The forensics team ran the blood, and it was all from the same person.

Aaron didn’t need to hear the results to know whose blood it was. Spencer tried to help, informing him that she hadn’t bled out because women had approximately 4.5 pints of blood and that was at most half a pint, but Aaron cut him off. He couldn’t hear it, couldn’t listen to everyone talking about his girlfriend, the love of his life, as though she was already dead. He knew the odds, knew that she was almost certainly going to be dead within the first 72 hours, considering how the unsub had killed the other women.

He was going to find you alive. He knew it.

Because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he didn’t.

+++++

Everything was fuzzy and painful and oh my god what is that stuff coming out of your side and out of your hand and holy crap you can’t move you’re tied up what are you tied to what’s going on and-

“You’re even prettier than I remember.” The voice sounded familiar, but the only thing your brain could fully focus on at the moment was the excruciating pain. You felt a hand on your side, and then a searing pain that was somehow worse than the pain you’d already been feeling.

“You got a piece of glass in your side. I’m getting it out.”

You felt pressure on the spot, and forced your head to move so you could see what was going on.

He was wrapping your waist in some sort of bandage to staunch the bleeding. You forced yourself to look around the musty room you were in. You were seated in a chair, with your arms tied to the back of the chair by a coarse brown rope and a metal chain and heavy shackle attached to your left ankle. Your eyes followed the chain, to where it connected to a silver hook jutting from the wooden floor, which was coated in a layer of dirt.

Dirt.

You must be in a barn, or shed, or something. You definitely weren’t in New York City anymore.

You vaguely remembered what had happened in the gas station bathroom. There’d been a man waiting in the first stall, who jumped on you, shoving your head against the mirror hard enough to crack your skull. You figured that you’d blacked out, and he’d jumped the window with you in tow.

Then another memory washes over you like a tsunami, flooding you with regret.

Aaron said he loved you, and you didn’t say it back. Now, you might never get to tell him that you love him again.

+++++

Aaron removed himself from the case, leaving Rossi in charge. He knew he’d only slow everyone else down with the torrent of emotions dancing inside his skull. So now, he’s resorted to sitting in your hotel room alone, wishing he hadn’t told you to go to the hotel. He’d been crying for the first time in years.

Aaron had no clue what to do, and it gives him newfound respect for the families of abducted victims that he speaks to. He pulled the sparkling diamond ring he planned on giving you tonight out of his bag, staring at it and imagining it on your ring finger. It doesn’t make him happier, instead it just turns the steady stream of tears into a storm.

+++++

Morgan, Rossi, JJ, and Emily, seated at the silver table in the conference room, were going over every last piece of evidence they have, while Spencer made a map of the abduction sites as Agent Milenka told him the addresses. They already established that the victims were high-risk due to their above-average athleticism, and each victim was taken from a high-risk location. Spencer looked for any sense of a pattern in abduction sites, but couldn’t find one. Eventually, he sat down next to Morgan and Emily, defeated.

“So all we know is that he’s obsessed with Y/N, and that he wasn’t remorseful about the murders of the other women.” Derek sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, if he was able to subdue her, he most likely had the element of surprise. So, he probably isn’t physically strong, and needed that advantage to knock her out.” Rossi added, and Derek nodded.

Spencer looked up from the crime scene photos. “There’s no ligature marks.”

Derek nodded. “Yeah, we went over that. So?”

“Why knock the women out and transport them if you’re just going to kill them immediately instead of holding them somewhere? Why not just kill them wherever they already are?”

Emily’s mouth fell open. “Practice. So that when he had Y/N, he knew exactly what was going to happen. But he didn’t want to ruin the rest of the fantasy by taking someone else where he’s planned to keep Y/N. He wants that to be special.”

“So we know he’s going to be holding her somewhere secluded, then,” Milenka chimed in.

After a few moments of silence, the phone rang in the center of the table, and the team members all stared at it for a few moments before Derek turned to the computer next to him, where Garcia was currently on a video call with the team.

“Can you trace this call, babygirl?”

Garcia nodded. “I don’t have a trap and trace set up yet, but I can get one, honey. Just gimme one second.”

Derek’s hand hovered over the button on the receiver to answer the call, and when Garcia affirmed that she was ready, Derek pressed the button. Instantly, a somewhat timid male voice filled the room.

“Where’s Agent Hotchner? I want to speak to him, not any of you.”

The team shared a perplexed look, and Emily asked, “How do you know who is here and who isn’t?”

“The window’s open.”

JJ ran to the window, then turned. “He’s there,” she said, pointing to a man directly underneath where the conference window was with a phone to his ear.

The rest of the team sprinted down the stairs and out of the field office, with JJ not far behind. By the time they got to where the man had been, he was long gone. No one near the area said they’d seen him, either.

Derek turned and punched the wall out of rage, while Emily cursed loudly. The rapid darkening of the sky didn’t help with trying to catch an unsub, either.

Dejectedly, the team returned to the conference room, where Garcia excitedly said, “Your man forgot to hang up for a few minutes! I don’t know entirely where he went, but I know the direction he was headed!”

“Where, Garcia?” Spencer asked, desperate for a lead.

“Straight west.”

Spencer looked to Emily, who said, “Let’s go.”

+++++

The team knew the unsub needed somewhere secluded to keep you, but couldn’t figure out where. He’d been on foot when they’d seen him, so it had to be somewhat close. Or maybe he’d had a car in a parking lot somewhere? There were too many variables. They needed Hotch.

+++++

“Drink.”

The man held a cup to your lips, but you kept them closed tight. After trying to force you for a while, he gave up. Sighing, the man ran a hand through your hair, forcing your head upright. For a serial killer, he was surprisingly gentle.

“You need your strength,” the man murmured, but you looked away when he picked up the cup again. He set it down, shaking his head, then pulled a knife out of the back pocket of his blue jeans. You knew better than to scream. It was likely that he craved your pain, so allowing him that satisfaction would coax him to continue. He walked behind you, to where you wouldn’t see him. You closed your eyes, praying for a quick death, praying Aaron would find you, praying you could see your team one last time.

But you didn’t need to.

The man cut through the rope binding your wrists, then left the room. He was rarely in the room with you, and you wondered what he was doing outside of it. For the first time, however, he came back within a few minutes of leaving. You could theoretically move if you wanted to now that the rope was gone considering how long the chain attached to your leg was, but you were weak and hurting. The last thing you saw before your vision went black yet again was the man standing above you with a syringe.

+++++

Aaron was with the rest of the team, visiting each abduction site for something, anything to help the profile, when the unsub called him.

“This is Hotchner.”

“I have her, Agent Hotchner, and I treat her better than you ever could. You think what she needs is a big strong man to control her,” he mocked, “But you don’t truly love her. No one could, except me.” Although the man’s words were confident, he sputtered out the words like an old truck engine. It sounded like he was reading a script, as though he’d had to plan out what he was going to say beforehand. As soon as the unsub finished speaking, the tell-tale click of the phone hanging up sounded.

Emily, who’d been walking next to him, stopped, pulling out her phone to contact Penelope.

“Can you get the rest of the team on the line? I think Morgan and Reid are at the Central Park crime scene, and JJ and Rossi are probably still by Times Square.”

Emily could practically hear Penelope’s smile as she responded, “Can do, gorgeous.”

A few keyboard clicks later, Penelope stated, “You’ve got me, Morgan, Rossi, Reid,and JJ.”

Emily took a shaky breath before saying, “We think Y/N knew the unsub.”

“What do you mean, knew?” Reid’s voice sounded.

“He claimed that he loves her more than Aaron ever could. He thinks he knows her better than us, so he probably knew her when she used to live in New York.”

“She went to college here, didn’t she?” JJ responded.

Penelope chimed in, exclaiming, “She went to John Jay College of Criminal Justice. Graduated top of her class.”

Morgan cleared his throat, then added: “Maybe the unsub didn’t know her, but thought he did. He could’ve been stalking her when she lived here, then kept tabs on her when she transferred to the BAU years ago.”

“He probably found out about Y/N’s relationship with Aaron recently, and that’s his stressor.” Rossi added.

Emily stared into the distance. There was something off about this. The theory made sense, but at the same time, it felt, well, wrong.

Agent Milenka, who’d been surveying the crime scene Emily and Aaron were at, sauntered over.

“I know who did this.”

Aaron met her firm gaze, confused and intrigued.

“Who?”

“There was this guy she met at John Jay, didn’t talk much, but he ended up applying to the FBI just because she did. He made it in a few months after her and got a job as a forensic analyst at our field office here. They worked together pretty often, and he was never too strange, but you got the feeling there was something off. He started acting weird after Y/N’s transfer to the BAU. I ordered another psych eval for him a few months ago, and he failed. I fired him, and I haven’t seen him since.”

Aaron and Emily shared a look, both hopeful and sad.

“What’s his name?”

“Ian Foster.”

Aaron nodded, murmuring a quick thank you, then turned back to Emily.

“Call Garcia. We need all the information we can find on Ian Foster.”

+++++

Your head hurt. You were somewhere different now; the dirty brown floor had been replaced with plush white carpet, and the chair you’d gotten used to was gone. Your left leg was still shackled, but this time it was attached to a shiny metal spike in the center of the room. You surveyed your surroundings, noting the vast difference between your current location and your past one. The chain attached to your ankle was long, probably meant to give you full access to the room you were in but keep you from leaving. The walls were white and spotless, along with the queen-sized bed behind you and the dresser and vanity along the far wall. You knew you must look out of place compared to the neatness of your surroundings, with your frizzy, dirty hair and torn, wrinkled, and stained clothes. You realized that you’d never checked your holster for your gun, and in doing so, found it empty.

Great.

Sun shone through the window on your right, and birds chirped happily, as if mocking you. They were telling you that they’re free, while you’re locked in this stupid white room.

Your captor walked in soon after you woke up, and you knew he must be watching you through a camera hidden somewhere.

“Drink.”

Your eyes searched his face, trying to understand who he was, now that you had enough light to see.

“Foster?” You managed to croak out through your parched throat.

Ian nodded, then grabbed your face with one calloused hand, forcing you to open your mouth so he could pour water in, which you promptly spat into his eyes. Instead of causing him to stumble, all it did was make him laugh.

“I see you’re still as fiery as ever.”

You clamped your mouth shut, pursing your lips and staring him in the eyes until he left. After he was gone, you tried to move your arms as much as possible. Your limbs felt heavy, like you were attached to weights, but moving was somewhat possible, a little bit at a time.

For now, that would be enough. You just had to pray that Aaron could find you.

+++++

Ian Foster’s paper trail was a series of dead ends, but Penelope Garcia, being the lovely omnipotent being she is, was able to find two properties owned by his dead uncle in upstate New York that he was likely using to hold you.

Aaron couldn’t describe the relief that wrapped itself around him, like a soft blanket, when Garcia chirped that she’d found where he was. He’d refused to allow himself to think that you might be dead, and the knowledge that now he had your location was sweeter than any candy could ever be.

He wiped a tear from his eye that threatened to fall, and cleared his throat, nodding at Emily and Agent Milenka, wordlessly signaling her to join him as he ran towards the SUV they’d been using. Emily followed, calling JJ and Rossi to give them the address as she ran. The first property, an old farmhouse, was about 40  minutes away from their current location, while the second one, a pretty two-story house, was about three hours away. Hotch, Emily, and Milenka, being farthest from both locations, were driving to the house, while the rest of the team would check out the farmhouse first then meet them there.

+++++

There was this feeling, blossoming in your chest, comforting you, whispering that Aaron was on his way. You’d learned over the years that your instincts rarely lied to you, and you hoped to whatever God there was or wasn't, that this wasn’t one of the times they misled you.

So you knew what you had to do.

You acted nice every time Ian came to visit, roughly every half hour.

Then, after five visits, you drank the water he offered willingly. Gently, Ian helped you up off the ground, a gesture that would’ve been comforting had he not been a serial killer. He moved his hands until they were lightly situated on your waist, and gazed into your eyes with the crazed fanaticism of a deranged man. He leaned in for a kiss, and the second he closed his eyes, you drove your right knee directly into his crotch.

Serves him right for being dumb enough not to fully restrain you. While he doubled over in pain, stepping back, you set up for a roundhouse kick that you placed to the back of his knee, knocking him onto the ground in an ungraceful heap. While he was on the ground, you punched him in the throat with enough force to knock the wind out of him, leaving him gasping for air on the ground like a fish out of water. Sending another kick to his temple for good measure, rendering him unconscious, you searched his pockets for anything that could remove the shackle from your leg. Eventually, you settled for a wire cutter that you used to cut off the attaching chain, but your clumsiness left an angry gash in your leg in the process. Limping from exhaustion, you ran from the room as fast as you could with the pain in your side from the glass that had been lodged there and the blood from the cut in your skull dripping down your face and neck. Your head felt fuzzy and faint, and you knew you were likely to pass out from blood loss any second. You repeated Aaron’s name in your head like a mantra, telling yourself that you needed to get back to him first, then you could pass out from pain. Every part of your body ached, screaming at you to give up as you stumbled down the creaky carpeted stairs, leaving a trail of blood in your wake.

As you neared the foyer, you heard the engine of a car, along with footsteps. The door flew open, with Aaron directly behind it, followed by Morgan, Emily, Spencer, Rossu, and a few agents from the New York office. Aaron’s eyes scanned the room before settling on you, bloodied and bruised, and he ran to you, gathering you in his arms while you whimpered like a child. He whispered things in your ear that you couldn’t make out as you let the blackness at the edge of your vision take over.

+++++

Lights. Murmuring voices. Were you still in that house?

You opened your eyes to see two people, one man and one woman, leaving the room you were in. There was a pressure on your hand that scared you, and slowly, you turned your head to see the source of the sensation, and you were greeted with what was quite possibly the best view you’d ever laid eyes on: Aaron Hotchner asleep at your side, desperately clutching your hand.

“Aaron?” You murmured. He was a light sleeper, so you knew the sound would most likely wake him up. When it didn’t, you squeezed his hand while murmuring his hand again. His head jerked up, and his tired eyes met yours.

“Y/N.” His voice was filled with so much anxiety, grief, and regret that your heart shattered, as he reached up to ever-so-gently caress your face, then kissed you softly.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” His words took the broken pieces of your heart and smashed them again with a hammer, until you were sobbing against Aaron’s chest. He held you, and let you cry, becoming painfully aware of his inability to help in times like this. His specialty was catching criminals, not helping people through the trauma, and he entertained the thought of asking JJ to talk to you for a fleeting moment, before deciding that he couldn’t let you out of his sight for the time being.

After a few minutes, you sniffed and lifted your head to wipe away your tears, but Aaron did it before you could. You stared down at your side for a moment, watching the blood that seeped through the bandage every time you took a breath, while you gathered enough courage to speak without your voice wavering.

“I’m sorry. You told me you loved me, and I didn’t say it back, and that could’ve been the last-”

Aaron cut you off with a kiss, murmuring against your lips, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You sat in silence with him for a while, leaning your head against his shoulder as he stroked your hair. Eventually, Aaron broke the silence.

“I saw what you did to Ian.”

You choked out a laugh despite the pain that ripped through you while doing so. “Yeah, I left him in pretty bad shape, didn’t I?”

Aaron nodded, smiling. “I’m proud of you. Most people wouldn't be able to escape a serial killer.”

“Well, I’m not most people, Hotchner.”

“That’s for sure.”

+++++

The rest of the team left for D.C. the next morning, but Aaron stayed to drive you home once you were discharged from the hospital. First, however, he dropped you off at the FBI field office to talk with Agent Milenka while he called Jessica to ask if she’d mind watching Jack for a few more days, explaining what happened to you. She practically viewed you as a sister, and after recovering from the initial horror, was happy to agree.

“Hey, Y/N! You’re alive!” Agent MIlenka called brightly as you limped into her office, bumping your crutched on the doorframe.

You chuckled. “Sadly, I am. Aaron told me it was you who figured out Foster had taken me. How’d you know?”

Milenka shrugged. “I may not be a profiler, but I sure as hell can tell when someone’s not right. The guy went almost crazy when you left New York. It just made sense.”

“But if that was his stressor, he would’ve started murdering earlier.”

“We thought at first that finding out about you and Agent Hotchner might’ve been the stressor, but it was impossible to tell when he’d found out, so we switched gears. I fired Ian a few months ago because he’d just been getting worse and worse, and eventually was a liability on cases. The last straw was him failing his psych evaluation. Maybe he felt that losing his FBI job meant he lost his last chance to be with you if he’d been hoping to transfer to your unit someday.”

You nodded slowly. “That’s around the time the kidnappings started, isn’t it?”

Milenka nodded. The two of you stood in her office in comfortable silence for a bit, until she stood up from her desk, crossing the distance between you and engulfing you in a nervous hug. She pulled away fairly quickly, most likely out of fear of hurting you, and awkwardly patted you twice on the shoulder. “Take care, Agent.”

“You too, Milenka.”

You turned to go, but stopped when you heard Milenka call, “One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Hotchner’s a good guy. Don’t let that one get away.”

You merely offered her a smile, then strode out of her office as elegantly as one can with a limp.

+++++

The ride home was nice, full of easy discussion, laughter, and a few guilty looks that Aaron snuck at your stitched-up side, wishing he’d listened to you.

You made a joke he didn’t hear, and leaned over in your seat so you could wave a hand in front of his face, calling his name in a sing-song voice.

“Aaron, you good?”

Aaron shook his head slightly, rubbed his eyes, then turned towards you. “Yes?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

You hummed in affirmation, then turned towards the window. The rest of the drive was spent in comfortable silence, until you arrived at Aaron’s house. You spent practically all of your time there. Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d stepped foot into your apartment. Aaron helped you into the house and to your shared bed, where you passed out immediately. You vaguely heard a soft whisper of “sleep well” before you were out cold.

Aaron watched you for what felt like hours, feeling pent-up stress and anger roll off of him in waves as he silently stroked your hair, grateful beyond words that you’d lived. You murmured something in your sleep that sounded suspiciously like “I love you,” before rolling over to curl against his chest, nuzzling your head against the crook of his neck. And for the first time in days, he allowed himself a smile. Aaron basked in the rare feeling of relaxation, thinking about how nice it would be to bottle up this feeling and keep it forever, until sleep finally pulled him into its soft clutches. And for once, with you safely nestled into him, he slept easily. He still hadn’t proposed, but that was okay. Now that you were safe, you two had all the time in the world.

[ilovebeingcalledawhore]

Content: fluff

Summary: When two teenagers meet at their highschool’s pool, they form a connection with the same love and longing for the sea and at some point they just find themselves falling in love, quite literally.

Pools, indoor swimming pools.

The moment I found out my highschool had indoor swimming pools at the back part of the gym, I was immediately won over. Swimmers trained early in the morning but the pools were left open but no student ever bothered to actually hang in there except for me.

After school, I get tutoring from teachers ‘till seven pm. Right before I go home I walk to the pools and just sit there. I watch the moonlight hitting the water.

Most of the time I stare at myself, maybe dip my fingers into the water.

It was the perfect place to rest. In there, I felt like nothing else mattered. I’d even call it a sanctuary. It was a safe place to run when all else breaks down.

-

Pausing the music playing through my earphones. I shove my phone into my bag and push the big grey gym door open.

Empty, as usual.

I walk through the dark and quiet basketball court - my eyes lighting up at the sight of the pool shown through its clear glass entrance door. Pushing it open, I sigh in satisfaction as the smell entered my nose.

I loved this place.

I was quietly walking when all of a sudden, “who are you?”

“Ahhh!” I scream, completely startled by the voice of whoever was in there. I start looking around and see a boy sitting by the pools edge. He had dark messy hair and the school uniform on. His pants were rolled up ending just above his knees so it wouldn’t get wet meanwhile his feet up to his shin were underwater.

“I’m gonna leave,” I mutter and I hear him chuckle as a response. “You’re already here, might as well stay.” He speaks softly and something about his voice attracted me. Though it took me a few seconds to finally agree, I sat at the other side of the pool. My legs crossed but my fingers dipped in the water

It was quiet but something about the silence was comforting, it didn’t feel awkward, it felt like being around an old friend. Clearing my throat to cut the silence, I start the converstaion with words that were on the tip of my tongue. “I’ve never seen you here before,” I speak, looking up to observe the way he replies. A half-hearted grin appears on his lips and he says, “I just found out about this yesterday and I needed it.”

My eyebrows furrow, how do you need a pool? I thought to myself - ‘till I remembered why I was here all along. “You needed it?” I asked and he nodded, finally looking up making your eyes meet. I felt my heart gradually start racing but I try to ignore it. “Yes, the beaches have been locked away and I needed water.” His reply made my heart swell because I felt the exact same way.

Beaches have been locked out ‘cause there was too much trash in them. The government finally took action and started a cleaning movement but volunteers weren’t allowed. They wanted the world to ignore it while they hid away the problems. I sighed in empathy, “I’m Y/n,” I say - our eyes connecting once more. “I’m Mark, Mark Lee.”

-

The very next day, I found myself walking back to the pools but this time with the slight hope of the mysterious boy to be there. Pushing the glass door open, I immediately look around but see no one. My heart drops in disappointment but I push the feeling away. I walked back to my spot, this time dipping my feet in. I didn’t have any problems ‘cause I was wearing the school’s skirt.

Taking out the small black speaker from my bag, I connect it to my phone and start playing my favourite song. I sigh in satisfaction, I felt good. Today wasn’t a stressful day, it was calm and went by smoothly - I was definitely in a great mood.

As I start to hum with the music mindlessly, I kept staring at the moonlight hitting the edges of the pool and little sparkle it made with the water, it was pretty. Everything was quiet and calm when all of a sudden I hear the same familiar voice from yesterday but this time, he was singing along to the song.

I yelped, completely startled by his sudden presence.

I turned around and saw him rolling the hem of his pants so he can dip his feet into the water. “You scared me!” I whisper and he smiled as a response. That was the first time I saw him give a genuine smile - and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel some type of way.

He finally dips his feet into the water and starts singing along to the music once more. I just sat there and admired him and his voice. He looked good under that moonlight but I was too shy to say it out loud, even admit to it. So I look away distracting myself, waiting for the song to end.

Then it did.

“You sing good,” I compliment him and he scratches the nape of his neck shyly.

-

A month has passed and the safe haven was now a habit. Even on nights when I’m told to come home early, I always find a way to come to the pools. Even for a minute, even for a few seconds, most of the time not for the water but for him.

In all honesty if I had to label him as anything, it’d be a human diary. He knows much more than my friends who I’ve been with for a year. I don’t know what it is about it but, telling your secrets to a stranger feels much more comforting.

At this point we know each others favourite colour, movie, song, artist. What we want to be when we grow up - what we don’t want to be when we grow up. What type of person we want to fall in love with - if were even in love with ourselves. Does he think aliens are real? How ‘bout mermaids? I know his dreams, goals, secrets, trauma, his biggest fear and his greatest regret and in equality, he knows mine.

Though I hate to admit to it, he makes my days. His presence, his voice, his thoughts - it came to the point where I don’t want to sleep anymore ‘cause for the first time reality was better.

Smiling to myself as I quietly walked through the gym to get to the pools. I push the door open but freeze, my hands still on the metal handle of the door. I heard sniffling and sobbing. At that very moment my heart dropped. If I were to expect anything it wasn’t this.

“Mark...” I whisper, but the whisper was enough to echo through the room in it’s silence. Finally walking in, I shut the door and quickly walking towards the pool. The image broke my heart. He sat there, his legs crossed together - not dipped in the water like I’m used to. “What’s wrong?” My brows furrow as I walked towards him.

He continued to sob into his hands, biting his lip to silence himself. But when he finally put his hands down, the tears running down his face made me sit next to him and hug him without hesitation. We’ve never been this close, only ever sitting across each other on different sides of the pool. He melts into me, his head going into the crook of my neck but this time, he started crying some more; not loudly but silently.

The tears just continued to roll down onto my shirt making me sigh in empathy.

Like I always do when my friends cry, I rub their heads in comfort. “It’ll get better,” I whisper and he nods into me. I look down to see if he’s calmed down but right when I do, our eyes meet. I give him a little smile, wiping the last tear that ran down his cheek.

We just sat there, our eyes connected somehow healing each other quietly. Taking in deep breaths, I continue to caress his face. When I cried, it was something my mom did to comfort me. “You feel better?” I ask and he looks away. “Yeah,” he whispers as he looks down and observes our other hand interlocked with each others. Something even I didn’t notice.

-

Mindlessly looking around, him still in your arms, you notice a small black bug atleast three meters away from you. “Oh my god,” you mutter, eyes getting wide and heartbeat racing as it crawled fast and closer towards you. “Ah!” You scream, frantically moving around but not making much progress ‘cause of the boy laying on you. “Mark there’s a bug!” You scream.

He turns around and sees the bug almost a meter away and he panics too. In all that movement you found yourselves with no other option but the pool. Panickly falling in you, you drag the boy with you.

“Ahhh!”

It was a split second underwater until you rose up again to take in air. As you did, you didn’t realise that the boy was so close to you, it was only until you calmed down that you felt his breath hit your lips. Smiling in amusement as you looked at each others state, you laugh in disbelief, observing your now extremely wet uniform.

“Mom’s gonna kill me,” you mutter to yourself but he chuckles to it. Slowly, you feel one of his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer leaving no space in between your bodies. His other hands crawls up your arm, to your neck, to your chin making you face him.

Silence.

Hearts racing.

Hearts synching.

Seconds later his lips were on yours. His teeth bites into your lower lip drawing you closer. Your eyes widen in realisation, making you pull away gently. “What?” You ask, bewildered but not complaining. “No questions, just kiss me.” He replies and your breath hitches as he makes your legs wrap around his waist. “Kiss me,” he says again and without anymore hesitation, you do.

Bodies tangled.

Wet and messy hair.

Eyes shut.

Lips locked.

You fell in love, quite literally.

[mellowyandere]

SCP Academia Eraserhead Part 2

Reader: F

Characters: Aizawa Shouta (main); Kurogiri

Summary: After struggling to find his way out with Dr. L/N, Eraserhead is offered some help. (This turned into a lot more exposition than expected. Part 3 will get steamy though I promise! I’m just a hoe for setting the stage.)

Length: 1442 words

Warning: Yandere-themes.

He had been running for a while now. Hallways and corridors bleeding into one another in a way that turned his head upside down. He hadn’t had to open any doors so far, and a strange absence of security set off little alarms in the back of his head.

Left…no right? He snarled in frustration. Curse this stupid foundation. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy but this was simply ridiculous. He peered down at your unconscious form, nestled protectively against his chest in a layer of his tendrils. So small and weak... he had to keep pushing forwards.

He had been forced to kill a couple of SCP’s along the way, not all being as sentient and rational as himself. Their desire to kill you forfeiting their rights to life.

Shit. Another dead end.

Something cleared their throat behind him, causing him to spin on his heel. His tendrils flared out ready to cut down whatever it was. To his surprise there stood what appeared to be a man made of mist, wearing human clothing. His sharp attire strongly contrasted his own, which consisted of an orange jumpsuit, the top half having been torn to shreds when he unleashed his tendrils, and a pair of standard issued boots.

“Move out the way. Don’t make me hurt you.” He didn’t have time for this, who knew when security would appear to regain control of the breach.

The mist man raised his hands to show his non-hostility. “You look a bit lost… would you like some help leaving this place?”

Eraserhead narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Why would you help me?”

“Don’t you find it odd..” Ah great this might take a minute. If he wasn’t blocking off the hallway Eraserhead would have left by now, but the man in front of him didn’t look like someone he could simply side step.

“Beings such as ourselves don’t belong here. By all means humans are nothing more than fodder in comparison. And yet they contain us? They’re witty creatures with dangerous minds, it’s what gotten them this far. But so are we. This containment breach was no accident, I’m sure you’ve already noticed almost every enclosure open, save for the truly unhinged ones. And a complete lack of guards to corral you back to your prison. No, there are higher powers at play. But now isn’t the time to delve into that, so I’ll ask again… would you like some help leaving this place?”

The mist man finished his little speech and opened his arms, inviting Eraserhead forward.

“What’s the catch?” Eraserhead knew better. Nothing in this world was done from the kindness of one’s heart. Well, except for you. You were the only real kindness he had ever known.

The mist man chuckled. “I see you are a man of caution. Yes this exchange is not for free. We’ll be keeping tabs on you. Your intelligence and abilities make you a very strong creature indeed. One day we’ll need you to help free our kind from the shackles of humanity.”

Lowering his arms the man took on a more sinister aura. “Let it be known though, I don’t need your consent to teleport you. I’d choose my offer. After all that human in your arms looks so frail, she might not make it out here alive if you keep at it.”

Shit. This bastard wasn’t leaving him with much choice.. should he fight his way out? He wasn’t exactly sure what his opponents abilities were besides teleportation. Even if he erased them, can you punch a man made of mist? His clothes clung to him, but who knew his real body composition.

No. This man was too dangerous, and his threat towards your well-being still hung heavily in the air. “Alright. Deal.”

The mist mans nodded with a hum, satisfied with his answer. “Start with continent, State or province, then major nearby city. Small nearby towns if applicable.”

Eraserhead listed off what was asked of him. His goal was to bring you to his old self-isolation home. He used to live amongst humans with little to no problems. His larger than normal stature at 6’10” raised a few eyebrows but nothing too serious. He kept the dark markings along his torso covered, and a scarf helped to hide his deathly white complexion. As for the eyes, he always wore sunglasses.

His issue had arisen with the month of his “birth”. For as long as he could remember, during the month humans called November, he went absolutely feral. Losing all control over his himself he’d slaughter anything that crossed his path. He’d make sure to isolate before November came along, and for the most part it worked. He had lived many centuries alongside humans with only the occasional slip up.

Five years ago he slipped up. And the SCP foundation had been all over him ever since.

“I can’t get you to any of the nearby towns, but I can get you to the city,” the mist man stated. “Step forward, I’ll take you there now.”

With that the man began to spread out the mist that defined his body, pooling out until he filled the entirety of the corridor. Eraserhead stepped forward into the blackish purple abyss, his vision going dark. Squinting he tried to peer through the pitch black that surrounded him, until finally he could see again. Stars lit up the night sky above him, and the sound of cars echoed down far below. Stepping onto concrete he moved out of the portal. This creature had quite a powerful ability. 

“What you do from here is up to you. We’ll give you some time to adjust and then we’ll contact you. Do not think that you can hide from us.” With that the mist vanished and Eraserhead was left alone atop a tall building with you in his arms.

It would be about a half a day of running to get you home from here. Meaning it would be wise to stock up on supplies now. That way he wouldn’t have any reason to leave you alone for the next week or two as you adjusted to your new home. The tall creature checked you over, making sure you wouldn’t wake up anytime soon before leaving you on the rooftop. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but he’d move fast.

Jumping from building to building he made quick work of locating and snagging some clothes from a local donation box in order to change out of the tattered orange jumpsuit. One extra-large black long sleeve shirt and accompanying extra-large pair of blacks pants. Grabbing a few bags that had also been inside, he headed for the nearest chain supermarket. He’d stock up on essentials like food and nest making materials, as well as daintier things that you might like such as feminine soaps and fluffy stuffed animals.

Due to the limitations in his interactions with you he didn’t really know what you’d want, but he had the rest of your time together to learn.

He was going to prove to you that he was the best mate you could ever dream of having. No one else would ever be good enough for you. And no one else would ever be good enough for him with you now in his life. He had never encountered a human like you before, and he’d be damned if anyone ever dared try to take you away or hurt you.

Making quick work of the supermarket he dashed out as the alarms rang. It hardly mattered though, he wouldn’t be coming back to this city. He had enough money stashed away that he’d be able to buy what he needed from small towns as to not draw attention to himself. Despite what the mist man had said about a new world order, he didn’t want to chance the foundation getting back on its feet and finding him.

Quickly climbing the building he left you on he was relieved to see your small form still sound asleep on the cold concrete. He wrapped his tendrils around his new stash of goods and scooped you up in his arms yet again, taking a moment to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhaling your scent.

Even if he had to give up part of his freedom to get here, holding you in his arms had all been worth it. Now all he had to do was get you home, and then he’d make sure to repay every gesture of kindness you had ever shown him tenfold. His precious cute little human.

[kaylans-imagines]

trois: al dente

synopsis: Realising him, his daughter, and his housemates couldn’t live off fast food forever, Tom Holland joins a cooking class.

pairing: single dad! Tom Holland x single mum! reader

warnings: fluff, angst, no-no words, and absolute cuteness from one Miss Autumn Diana Holland and one Mister Lucas Peter Y/L/N.

an: I just want to thank you guys again for the love you have shown this series. it means the world to me. 

series masterlist 

previous

al dente: cooked so it's still tough when bitten, often referring to pasta

meal: lasagne 

Tom had the best luck. He just had to run into Y/N when he looked ‘horrendous’ as Harry so kindly put it. He had been tasked with getting the groceries while his best mates did the cleaning, which was very much long overdue. Not wanting his young and impressionable daughter, with a knack for repeating words she overhead, Tom brought her along. She had asked him questions on the car ride to Tesco’s. He had given her the warning he always gave her to behave, not that he needed to, she was his perfect princess, and unstrapped her from her seat. 

He was given a list of things they needed for the house, most of it was nonsense, and he wouldn’t get them at all, but he figured he would humour them and get kid-friendly alternates. Setting Autumn into the trolley, he started his walk around the supermarket. Autumn hummed a tune from a show she was obsessed with and would often point out things that caught her attention. He was having a great time, listening to Autumn babble on about what happened at nursery and what Gretchen and Holly did to get in trouble, until he, quite literally, bumped into a familiar woman. Apologies spilt from his mouth before he saw who he bumped into. A familiar giggle stopped his rambling and caused him to look up, making eye contact with gorgeous glowing eyes. 

“Oh, God. Y/N, what are you doing here? That was a stupid question, you’re clearly shopping, I am so sorry,” he apologised before he smiled at her. She brushed him off and smiled, her eyes moving from his face towards the small little girl who sported a cheeky smile, her honey eyes wide and laced with amusement. She thrust her tiny hand towards her and motioned for the older woman to take it. 

“‘M Autumn, but daddy calls me Burrito. Who are you?” her bluntness caused a giggle to slip from Y/N’s lips and Tom to snap his head up to look at her in embarrassment. First, he bumps into her in the cereal aisle and now his three-year-old quite sassily asked her who she was. Sometimes he wished she didn’t know how to speak as well as she did. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Autumn, I’m Y/N. Is this your daddy?” She asked, pointing at Tom with her thumb. Tom was never going to be ashamed of Autumn; she was his pride and joy. The apple of his eyes, the reason he lives, etc., but he silently wished his daughter said no to her question. He hadn’t gathered up the courage to ask Y/N on a date, and he didn’t want to ruin any chances because she found out he had a daughter before he could tell her. He wanted at least one date with her before dropping the bomb that he was a single father and having her ghost him. 

Autumn nodded with a proud smile, her toothy smile wide as she smiled at her father. Tom’s heart swelled at the thought of his daughter being proud of him. Y/N chuckled and opened her mouth to respond before a small body barreled into her leg, holding a box of Jaffa cakes. Y/N nodded her head towards the little boy and laughed as she watched him run towards their trolley and place them in it ever so gently before he wandered the length of the aisle in search of the cereal he wanted. Y/N motioned for him to come back and grabbed ahold of his small hand. 

“Luca, this is Tom and his daughter Autumn, they’re mummy’s friends, can you say hi?” she said slowly while signing it out with her hands. The small boy, who couldn’t be older than six, nodded his head before turning to his mother’s friends. Using his fingers and talking lowly, he introduced himself to the older man and his wife. 

“Hi, my name is Lucas,” he signed with a smile. At that moment, Tom was thankful for briefly considering teaching his daughter sign language when she was a baby. Of course, he couldn’t do so, since he had a fish’s attention span, but he had googled phrases when he was researching it. He was able to catch the phrase and introduced himself with ease. The little boy’s eyes lit up; he wasn’t used to someone making an effort to communicate with him, except for his mother, family, and one school friend. Y/N’s heart swelled as she watched her cute student use his fingers to reply to her son. Every guy she had ever dated or considered dating had all but left when they found out she had son, and the ones who stayed, left when they found out he was deaf. 

“Daddy, why is he using his fingers?” Autumn whispered. Once again mortified at his daughter’s bluntness, her father sent Y/N an apologetic smile before he turned to his daughter. He explained it to her in terms she would understand, she nodded along and turned to her newfound friend with a smile. She threw up her fingers and waved them around, much to Lucas’ confusion and the amusement of his mother. Y/N explained to her son that she was merely trying to say hello but that she didn’t know his language. Autumn, getting frustrated at not interacting with her new friend, motioned for her father to take her out of the trolley and place her on the ground. Tom set her down and watched with pride as his daughter hugged the boy. 

“Uh, we should get going. It was nice to see you outside of class, Tom,” Y/N said shyly. She didn’t want to leave, but she figured that if she stayed any longer and watched Tom interact with her son, and make an effort to communicate with him with Lucas in his comfort zone, she would surely fall in love with him. And his daughter, she was so much like Tom. She was kind and welcoming; she would surely want to claim her as her own but figured that a handsome, made man like Tom, definitely had a wife he kept from the public. She knew he had a daughter, but his relationship status was never discussed on the internet. And she never spent too long on the internet unless it was to research ways to make Lucas’ life as comfortable as possible and the pros and cons of a cochlear implant as of recently. 

Tom was distraught knowing she had a son, not because it was a turn off, but because it likely meant she was in a relationship. And an established one too seeing as her son was no older than six. With a sigh, he agreed and bid his goodbye, quickly getting a box of cereal and leaving the aisle with his three year old happily babbling behind him. She cleared her throat and sent him a weary smile after he stopped and looked at her. 

“Sorry, it’s just, you took my trolley,” as if he couldn’t be more embarrassed. First, he shows up to the supermarket looking less than ideal with two different socks, and an old t-shirt with spit up on it from when Autumn was a baby, then he asks her what she’s doing at a grocery store like a knob, and now, he just has to take her groceries. He just couldn’t catch a break. Sheepishly, he apologised and handed her back her trolley, once again dashing away. Y/N chuckled from her spot before turning towards her son who stared at her with wide hazel eyes under his red glasses.

“Mummy, was that the cute man you told Auntie about?” Lucas signed prompting Y/N to blush, but nodded nonetheless. What kind of mother would be if she lied to her son about a small crush. She asked him what cereal he wanted, effectively changing the topic. He ran off towards the aisle and followed after the small boy, stopping when he held up a box of Frosties. She allowed him to put it in the trolley before they continued on with their shopping. 

Tom had to bribe his daughter pack of Smarties for her to stop laughing at his misfortune, and a box of chocolate biscuits in order for her not to tell her Uncles. He needed to reduce the time she spent with Tuwaine and Harry, they were corrupting his daughter. Autumn sat in her car seat happily munching on her smarties while Tom drove, still reeling at the way he behaved around her, and about how he was smitten with a woman who probably had a family. Autumn still giggled from her carseat from time to time when she remembered how her acted in front of the pretty chef. He would resort to sending her playful glares and threatening to cut her tea time with her nana. 

Calling for the boys to help them unload the groceries, he shuffled inside with Autumn hot on his heels. Helping out by carrying her bag of snacks, she ran towards her bedroom while calling for her uncles to help her dad. Tom rolled his eyes but chuckled. Harrison was the first one out followed by Tuwaine and Harry who all complained about helping, but did it nonetheless. Between the three man, they got the bags inside quickly and left Tom to unpack everything while they searched for Autumn, to undoubtedly wreak havoc in their home. 

Harry came into the kitchen when Tom restocked their fridge and looked at his older brother with giddiness. Tom sent him a questioning glance before turning back towards the fridge causing his younger brother to throw one of Autumn’s toys at him. Tom turned around with offence laced in his eyes and flicked his brother off simultaneously rubbing the sore spot on his head. 

“That was payback for hitting me on the head,” he deadpanned before walking towards him, phone open and ready, “and it was also to get your attention. She followed me back, I figured you might want to you know, do your research on her.” Tom stared at his brother incredoulsly and reached out for the phone only to stop himself. Did he really want to stalk someone, a woman at that, that he had no chance with anymore? Did he want to be as shameless as his younger brother? 

Shaking his head, he softly pushed his phone away from his face before turning back to his groceries; not wanting to be tempted with the offer. Harry snorted before sitting back down and started scrolling on his phone. Tom figured that was the end of his brother’s tampering until he cleared his throat dramatically and started describing his posts to him. 

“And in this one, she’s in France with a cute baby on her hip and they’re in front of the Eiffel Tower. Her caption says,” he proceeded to raise his voice a few octaves and mimicked her voice, even though they had never spoken before, “decided to spend my boy’s first birthday in the city of Love!” Tom rolled his eyes at his brothers exaggerated voice and failed to catch the way his eyes widened the more he scrolled on her page as he now placed groceries in the cupboard. 

“I didn’t know she had a kid,” Harry said, Tom only ignored him, “but I think she’s single, she posted a picture of them together on his recent birthday and said that he was the only love of her life.” 

Tom couldn’t help but feel better at this revelation but he couldn’t know for sure until he found someway to interject it in conversation, or until Harrison does it for him. He really needed to get his act together and talk to her without making himself look like a fool. Harry continued to scroll aimlessly before he cursed and mumbled on about how he liked a picture from two years ago. Tom laughed and left the kitchen, leaving his brother alone in his debacle. Maybe that would teach him to stop stalking people. 

The next class came quickly and once again, he dragged Harrison with him. The blond had no complaints this time around, seeing as his date with the raven haired girl went well and he was going to see her once again. He pulled into the car park and noticed the familiar red car pulling into a spot close to his. Tom watched as she struggled with the supplies in her hand and with her bags and quickly jumped out after turning off the engine. Forgetting about his friend, he locked the door and rushed to offer her his help. With a grateful smile, she allowed for him to carry some of her belongings into the class. They shared pleasantries and talked, both of them ignoring what happened at Tesco’s. They would remain friends even if they couldn’t be together. 

Tom settled down in his seat and pulled out his phone, his eyes widening when he saw Harrison’s very angry messages. He snorted before excusing himself and walking back towards his car, making eye contact with Harrison who flipped him off. He unlocked the door and braced himself for the inevitable hurt the blue eyed man was about to inflict on him. After a rather harsh punch and even harsher words, the two walked back into the classroom and took their spots, flushing under the weight of everyone’s eyes. 

Y/N started her class after the entered the room and walked around after she passed around the recipe papers to them. Harrison and Tom looked at the sheet in confusion, she had never taught this way, she always demonstrated. The two looked around the room and watched as everyone else had started following the recipe, moving about their areas and puting things together. Their eyes widened as they read over the instructions once again. Re-reading a recipe at home after having made the food was one thing, but making food without doing it once was another. They swallowed and pushed down the feeling of doom they were both feeling. 

After nearly smacking Harrison with one of the lasagne noodles and then almost getting sauce on his shoes, they worked on making the food together. Y/N had stopped by occasionally to help them out, and to put out a small grease fire, but left them to their own devices as she continued to walk around. Swallowing his pride, Harrison called for her and asked for her help which she happily gave. She demonstrated how to cut vegetables, how to grate the cheese, and even taught them a new phrase. 

“Al dente; it’s how we refer to pasta when it’s hard but still cooked, which is what we want to do with the lasagne noodles,” she explained softly. Harrison paid attention to her demonstration while Tom focused on her and the way her eyes danced in delight as she explained and her tone was light when she answered any questions they had. With her help, they placed the lasagne in the oven and high fived as they finished without starting a fire or getting into a fight. They thanked her to which she nodded and left them to their devices while they waited. She had instructed the class to get ahead of the cleaning process and do so while they waited so they could leave early. 

Part of Tom didn’t want to leave early, but he knew he would have to. So together, they cleaned up their area and waited for their food to finish cooking. They finished quickly and Harrison ditched him for Violet, the raven haired girl he went on a date with, leaving Tom to pass the time on his phone. A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his scrolling. He looked up and met soft eyes and a warm smile. Y/N.

“I saw Harrison leave you for Violet, figured I would keep you company,” she paused, a panicked look in her eyes, “only if that’s okay with you of course.” Tom nodded and placed his phone down, gesturing for her to take a seat beside him. She thanked him and settled down.

“Your daughter is adorable,” she commented as she watched his screen light up with a message from his mum, his phone screen on display. It was a picture of the three year old at one of his premiers, smiling her toothy smile at the photographers. Tom thanked her and agreed with a fond smile. Autumn was adorable.

“Your son is cute,” he said, causing her to smile, “you and your boyfriend must be happy.” 

“Oh, no boyfriend, just me and Luca,” she informed him, “what about you? You and your partner must be ecstatic to have such a charming little girl running around.” 

“If you’re referring to Harrison, I can assure you we are more than okay with seeing other people, preferably of the opposite gender,” he joked. She laughed and looked at him intently.

“So, there’s no Missus?” she inquired, Tom shook his head. She smiled at his response and opened her mouth to reply before the sound of alarms going off interrupted her. She stood up and instructed everyone to take their dishes out of the oven and check their food, making sure the noodles were soft and easy to cut into. She went around offering everyone the lid to the containers the lasagne was in and helped those who needed, close them. 

Tom handed their container and the keys to the car to Harrison rather roughly and pushed him out the door before walking towards Y/N and clearing his throat, fiddling with his fingers. She sent him a questioning look and rose an eyebrow, waiting for him to talk. 

“Uh, I just wanted to invite you and Lucas to Autumn’s birthday,” no he didn’t, he was fully intending on asking her on a date, “it’s on Saturday. It’s okay if you can’t or simply don’t want to but I think-” 

“We would love to come. Here, you can text me the address, and Luca and I will be there. How old is she turning?” She asked and handed him her phone. He typed in his phone number and smiled at the picture she had set her wallpaper as. It was of her and Lucas, smiling at the camera. Lucas had cake frosting smeared on his face and on his hands which he was placing on her cheek. 

“Four,” she didn’t turn four for another month. Now he had to throw together a quick birthday party and lie to his daughter. All because he couldn’t ask the pretty chef out on a date.

“We’ll be there,” she said, Tom nodded and walked out of the room slowly, until she called his name, “text me. It doesn’t have to be about the party.” She winked and Tom blushed. 

He walked towards the car with a spring in his step and his head in the clouds. He didn’t ask her on a date, but he got her number and she told him to text her. That was better than nothing. Now all he needed to do was throw an impromptu birthday party for his daughter. 

next 

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[zukoszukhoes]

Don’t Speak- Part 3

Zuko x reader soulmate au

// warnings: violence and death

// read part 1 and part 2

"Get up." A voice snapped you out of your dreams. "Get up!" The voice yanked your covers off of you. "Get dressed, and quickly."

"Why?" You frowned, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"Because," your mother said, throwing you a ceremonial robe. "The Fire Lord has requested your presence at the palace."

~~~

The carriage ride to the palace was... uncomfortable, to say the least.

Zuko would never say it out loud, but he was desperate for you to forgive him. Now that his father had requested to meet you- his son's soulmate- he was terrified of putting you off even more. His father was imposing and cruel, and Zuko knew it. He knew that seeing his father would only reaffirm everything you hated about the Fire Nation- and him. He couldn't figure out what to say to you on the ride to the palace, so the two of you sat in silence. That is, until you noticed Zuko staring at you.

"Stop staring at me," you snapped, crossing your arms. You'd been feeling jittery all day; you couldn't stop thinking about your impending meeting with the Firelord. What would you say? What would he say?

"Sorry." Zuko cleared his throat and looked out the window. You followed his line of sight, searching for something to distract yourself from your nerves. Rolling hills and flocks of koala-sheep passed by as the carriage bumbled along. Looking at the fields, you could forget for a moment who you were and where you were going.

"We're going to have to stop for the night," Zuko murmured absentmindedly, looking out at the setting sun. "I'll ask the driver to pull over."

"Pull over? Is there an inn nearby?" You frowned.

"We can't stay in an inn. It's too exposed. We'll set up our own campsite where it'll be easier for the guards to watch us."

Your face paled. "A campsite?'

Zuko smirked, raising an eyebrow. "What, you can't handle a little camping?"

You were the child of a government official with your own estate. You had never been camping in your life!

"Of course I can handle camping!" You lied. "I was just surprised that the crown prince of the Fire Nation would stoop to sleeping on the ground."

Zuko glanced at you. "You're a terrible liar, you know."

You glowered and crossed your arms. "And you're short."

"Hey!" Zuko cried.

Before you could respond, the carriage jolted to a stop. The driver came to the side of the carriage and opened the door. "We're setting up camp for the night. If you would please follow me to your tents." He gestured out.

Looking at the guards setting up tents and a campfire, you frowned. It was going to be a difficult night.

~~~

Shivering in your sleeping bag, you mentally cursed Zuko for making you sleep in a tent.

Needless to say, camping was turning out to really not be your thing.

First of all, it was freezing. You hadn't packed your cloak because it was summer- in the Fire Nation- and you'd naturally assumed you wouldn't need it. Then, Zuko had made fun of you because of said lack of coat, and you couldn't think of anything to make fun of him for. And lastly, your servants had forgotten to pack an extra tent, so you had to share with Zuko.

"Can you please stop moving so much?" Zuko grumbled suddenly, his voice heavy with sleep.

"I'm cold. Maybe I'd be able to fall asleep if you'd bothered to bring any extra blankets," You groused, curling up tighter in your sleeping bag.

"Maybe if you'd remembered to bring your cloak you wouldn't be so cold," Zuko retorted.

"It's the middle of summer!"

"So that means I'm responsible for reminding you it gets cold at night?"

You glowered at the darkness, annoyed that you couldn't think of anything to say in response. Zuko let out a sigh, and before you knew what was happening, an arm was around you pulling you back into a warm chest.

You lurched up, pushing the chest away. "What are you doing?" You hissed, glaring daggers at Zuko. Zuko reached up and grabbed your wrist, tugging you back into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you until you were fully encased- and totally stuck. You went rigid, your heartbeat skyrocketing at the proximity.

"You said you were cold," Zuko replied bluntly.

"Oh," you squeaked out, your cheeks going red. You certainly were feeling warmer; Zuko's body was like a furnace, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth. You breathed in deeply, succumbing to his scent of cardamom and smoke. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Zuko murmured, his lips brushing your hair lightly. Tingles raced down your spine at the contact.

"Zuko?' You whispered quietly.

"Hmm?" Zuko hummed, already falling back asleep.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because," Zuko yawned. "I'm going to make things right between us."

You chuckled. "Is that so?"

Zuko nodded, bumping his nose against your forehead. "It is."

For a moment, you laid in Zuko's arms, letting his words sink in. Somehow, it was both infuriating and charming that Zuko was so determined to make things right with you- no matter how futile it may be. But, knowing what you did about Zuko, you couldn't say you were surprised; determination was in his blood.

"Zuko? Are you still awake?" You whispered.

You were met with nothing except for the quiet wisps of Zuko's breath over your face. With a quiet sigh, you settled in Zuko's grip. Before you knew it, fatigue pulled you into a deep cardomom-smoke-scented dream.

~~~

After being woken up the next morning by a very flustered guard, you journeyed for three more hours until you approached the imperial city. By the time you reached the palace, you were less concerned with meeting the Firelord and more concerned with getting something to eat. After 3 hours in a carriage, you were starving. But before you had the chance to get something to eat, a fire sage latched onto you and began to pull you towards the throne room.

"Come. There is no time to waste. The Firelord wants to see you immediately." He said, tugging you towards the inside of the palace.

Zuko's hand fell on the Fire Sage's wrist, stopping him in his tracks. "It's been a long journey. I'm sure my father can wait until y/n has had something to eat," Zuko said sternly.

The Fire Sage tightened his grip on your arm, looking at Zuko sternly. "The Firelord demands Mr/Miss L/n's presence."

Zuko glared back, tightening his grip on the sage's arm. "I already told you, y/n is hungry-"

"I'll meet with the Firelord." You cut Zuko off, giving him a pointed look. "There will be plenty of time to eat afterwards."

Zuko glowered at the Fire Sage, but let you leave nonetheless. The Fire Sage smirked and turned, beckoning you down the hallway. "Come. The Firelord does not tolerate tardiness."

Zuko shot you a worried glance, but you were already flanked by two guards, being ushered down the hall towards the throne room. You pushed your shoulders back, hoping to project an air of confidence. Everyone seemed terrified of the Firelord, but you were determined to remain composed. Really, how scary could he really be?

~~~ Very scary.

Thats how scary he could be.

You knelt before the Firelord's throne, sweat beading your brow from the inferno  blazing between yourself and the throne. Every breath you took seemed to echo painfully loud in the large throne room, which held nothing to dampen your sounds besides the large golden columns supporting the roof. There were no lights except for the Firelord's own fire, which burned so bright and high that you couldn't make out any of his features except for the whites of his eyes, narrowed and hardened as they inspected you. A shiver raced down your spine.

"So," the Firelord began, his voice a slow drawl. "This is my son's soulmate?" He paused for a moment, seeming to inspect you up and down. "I've heard quite a bit about you. Specifically, about your hatred of the Fire Nation. What's your name, traitor?"

A bead of sweat slipped down the back of your neck. "Y/n L/n," you replied, making sure to keep your voice even.

"Y/n L/n," Ozai repeated, your name sliding off of his tongue with a sneer. "Quite frankly, I'm unimpressed. Tell me, y/n, what makes you think you deserve to be here? Considering your past, I should have you banished for treason."

"I don't control fate, Firelord Ozai. I just follow it." The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

The fire in front of the throne spiked. "You would do well to watch your tongue, child. Don't you know who you're speaking to?"

"I was only trying to say-"

"Silence!" The Firelord boomed, cutting you off. "I can see why you and my son are a match. You are both incapable of showing basic respect." He glared down at you, the flames burning so high they almost touched the ceiling. "I will not stand for this! I brought you here to see if you would be a good match for my son. But clearly you would only bring shame and humiliation to the Fire Nation were you ever to enter this family."

Your chest burned with anger. How dare he insult you like that? "I was never planning on joining the royal family, Your Highness-"

"Be quiet!" He snapped. "You have shown me nothing but disrespect since your arrival. First you refuse to meet with me, and now you disobey me! You're lucky I don't kill you where you stand." He leaned forward. "Because you are Prince Zuko's soulmate, I will spare you- but not without conditions. You will leave the palace immediately. And if you ever speak to my son again, I will not spare you a second time."

Your hands shook with anger. Ozai may have been the Firelord, but he had no right to tell you or Zuko who to love or what to do. You may not have wanted to be with Zuko, but you wouldn't stand by while he manipulated his own son's life.

"With all due respect, Firelord Ozai," you replied, blood boiling in your veins. "Your son wants me here. So I won't be leaving. Not until Zuko tells me to go. I appreciate your mercy, but Zuko is not a child- he doesn't need you deciding what is best for him anymore."

The Firelord gripped the sides of his throne so hard his knuckles turned white. His hands burned red with anger, heating up until the metal beneath them melted away. "Get out of my sight!" He roared.

You stood up and scurried out of the room as fast as you could, Ozai's anger echoing behind you. Once you left the room, your hands started to shake as the realization of what you'd just done washed over you.

You'd disrespected the Firelord. Oh, god, you'd disrespected the Firelord!

Your heart began to pound. What were you thinking? He was sure to kill you now! And what about Zuko-

You collided with a torso. A small "oof" escaped your lips and you toppled backwards, but before you could fall, a hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back up.

"Are you alright?" Zuko's golden eyes looked down at you with concern.

Great. Zuko. Just who you wanted to see.

"I'm fine," you lied, swallowing nervously.

Zuko narrowed his eyes and dropped your wrist. "You're a terrible liar." He repeated the words from the day before, but without any humor.

You glared. "I'm not lying. I'm fine."

"What happened with my father?" Zuko asked.

A fresh jolt of fear shot down your spine at the reminder of Ozai. An image of his hatred-filled sneer flashed in your mind. "Um... it was fine..."

Zuko cocked an eyebrow. "What did he say?"

"Um..." you began to sweat nervously. "He kind of told me to leave. And never come back. Or talk to you ever again."

"What?" Zuko's eyes widened.

You winced. "Look, I didn't mean for it to go the way it did, it just kind of happened-"

Zuko gripped your arm tightly. "You need to leave. Now."

"What?" You blanched. "Zuko, I'm not going to let him push me around-"

"You don't understand. You just put yourself in serious danger."

"I'm not going to let myself be bullied! I don't care if he's the Firelord- I'm staying." You ripped your wrist out of Zuko's grasp and crossed your arms. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. I've had a long day."

"Y/n, wait-" Zuko reached for you, but you stepped away from his touch, sending him a scowl.

"Goodnight, Zuko." You stalked off to your room, blood boiling. And although you knew staying was the right thing to do (albeit the stupid thing to do), it didn’t stop you from praying to God that your conversation with the Firelord wouldn't come to haunt you the next day.

~~~

A boom woke you up from your slumber.

You bolted upright, heart beating fast. Something was wrong. The smell of smoke filled your nostrils and guards yelled outside. You ran to the window, following the commotion, and gasped at what you saw.

Oh no.

Opposite to your room, the roof of another room was completely caved in, with smoke bellowing out of a jagged hole. A fire raged in the windows. Guards frantically tried to calm the fire, some splashing buckets of water into the smoke and others waving large blankets to try and quell the flames, but it was no use.

"Idiot!" You heard one guard roar to the ones fanning the flames. "You're only making it worse!"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do?!" The other guard retorted angrily. As if the fire was listening to them, it roared up through the hole angrily, sending the soldiers stumbling back.

Suddenly, the doors to your room burst open. Two guards rushed in, brandishing swords.

"Sifu L/n! You need to come with us immediately! You aren't safe here!" One of the guards barked.

All of the blood drained from your face. "What?"

"Quickly, there's no time to waste-" the other guard started, but before she could finish, a hand reached out from behind the door and grabbed her. The guard let out a muffled scream, desperately reaching for her weapon. But before she could retaliate, her attacker pulled out their own knife and plunged it into the guard's side. The guard immediately crumpled to the floor, crimson blood seeping out onto the tiles.

You cried out in shock, stumbling against the windowsill. Your heart began to thump frantically in your chest. The guard- someone killed her-

What is going on?

The other guard leapt for the attacker with a roar. The attacker stepped aside and quickly punched the guard in the side of his head as he landed, sending the guard sprawling onto the floor. The attacker kicked the guard in the stomach, making him grunt in pain. The attacker raised his arm with the knife, preparing to strike-

"Stop it!" You cried, rushing over before you even realized what you were doing. You grabbed the attacker's arm. The attacker whirled to you, eyes burning bright with hatred. "Leave him alone!" You yelled.

The attacker sneered. "As you wish." And before you could register what was happening, the attacker twisted his arm out of your hand, spun, and stabbed the knife directly in your gut.

A scream clawed its way out of your throat, pain instantly blossoming where the knife was. Eyes wide with shock, you fell to your knees. Sound dulled around you, replaced by the dull throb of your blood surging around the knife. You barely registered the roar of the conflict outside of your window; all you could hear was the rush of blood to your ears.

Still sneering down at you, the attacker kicked you in the chest, sending you sprawling backwards. Your back hit the ground and you let out a scream, pain flooding your senses.

The attacker looked over you, his dark eyes glinting with malicious intent. "Next time, show your Firelord some respect." He hissed.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized that Firelord Ozai had done this to you. He wanted you dead.

And he was going to get what he wanted.

The attacker reached down and pulled the knife from your abdomen. You let out a low moan, pain flooding your senses. The attacker raised the blood-covered knife, letting it shine in the light of the fire. "Say goodbye, Y/n L/n."

He brought his hand down, the knife headed straight for your heart-

A hand grabbed the attacker's wrist, holding it just inches away from your chest.

Zuko glared down at the attacker, eyes burning with fury. "Goodbye."

With a blast of fire, he kicked the attacker away, sending him flying across the room and into the wall. Flame shot across the room towards the attacker, the man jumping out of the way just in time before he could be burned. But Zuko was relentless, attacking the assassin again and again until he was cornered.

Zuko advanced on the attacker slowly, fire engulfing his fists. He raised his hand, preparing to strike-

The attacker punched him square in the jaw, sending Zuko tumbling back. Zuko swore, bringing his hand to his chin. The attacker ducked under Zuko's arm and ran to the door. He paused in the doorway, glancing at you. He smirked. "My work here is done." And then, as soon as he came, he was gone.

As if on cue, you coughed, blood trickling down your chin. Your legs started to tingle and the ceiling started to spin.

"Y/n!" Zuko cried. His face appeared above you, contorted with worry. He looked to your wound and went white as a sheet. "Don't worry... I'll get you help... I won't let you die!"

"Zuko..." you croaked. "It's... my fault... I'm sorry..."

"Stop. Stop it! It's not your fault. You're going to be fine!" He said, but the panic in his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

You reached out and grabbed his hand. Even if you were still dying, Zuko had saved you. Lying on the floor, knowing your life was in danger, you had a moment of clarity.

It was true that Zuko had done many bad things. But he'd helped you when you were in your hour of need. You could see now that you’d been judging Zuko two-dimensionally- seeing only his pain, and not his heart underneath. Looking into Zuko’s golden eyes, seeing his bright spirit and honorable soul, you realized you’d been wrong about him. Zuko wasn't a bad person; He was a good man. 

And another realization hit you: you didn't want to die without telling your soulmate that.

"Zuko... I... forgive you..." you rasped. "For everything..."

Zuko shook his head. "Stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for. I was a horrible person-"

"You are a great person," you rushed out, more blood spilling over your lips. "I'm sorry... for what I said... I'm sorry... we don't have more time together..."

Zuko shook his head furiously. "No. No. You are not dying. We're going to have more time, y/n. It's not over..." But looking into your eyes, watching the light slowly fade, he realized he was wrong.

"Sing me... a song..." you smiled, reaching up for Zuko.

A tear spilled down Zuko's cheek and he nodded silently. He began to stroke your hair softly, a broken melody spilling from his lips:

Leaves from the vine

Falling so slow

Like fragile tiny shells

Drifting in the foam

Staring into Zuko's eyes, peace washed over you. Somewhere you were aware of a fire in your belly, but it didn't matter; the feel of Zuko's fingers brushing your head and his voice in your ear took away the pain.

Little soldier boy

Come marching home

Brave soldier boy

Comes marching home

A soft sigh escaped your lips and your eyes fluttered shut. Somewhere, a voice was asking you not to go, but it was too late; you were at peace, floating down a river into darkness until nothing hurt anymore.

Taglist:

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[ohheyitsokay]

dreamscapes

this is a little gift-fic for @scribbledghost! because you know as well as I do that she deserves all the love in the universe. this takes place in her “Multitudes AU” (or does it..?) and I directly pulled some lines from her stories to make parallels, so all rights belong to her. If you haven’t read it recently, I highly recommend a reread - not because it’s necessary but because it’s that good.

paring: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x reader 

wordcount: 2.5k

warnings: brief mention of ‘canon’ typical trauma, literally so much fluff 

summary: post universe-collision, you and Jack grow closer and closer every day, and every night 

>>

A few weeks had passed since your literal reality had collided with Jack’s- and it still feels surreal. He wouldn’t take no for an answer in all the best ways: you lived in his home, worked in his office, ate everything he put before you. It was the most safe and loved you felt in years, maybe ever.

The looming threat of losing it all, the memories of it actually happening, and echoes of loneliness still haunted you sometimes, but he fought them. Your sweet, try-hard Statesman cowboy would fight for you, making sure you eat like a mother hen, and shooing away prying questioners like it was his job. And he wrapped his strong arms around you, resting his chin on your head and glaring, daring the darkness to try taking away his love again.

It’s not happening – he spent too many nights sleepless, agonizing over the death of your world to let anything happen to you. And he lost so much once, he knows he wont make the same mistake twice.

Towards the beginning, he had been careful, trying to be as considerate as possible, but you’d been in agreement about one thing: you would share his bed. After gathering the courage to sleep with your monitors side by side, this was an obvious choice, but seeing his face when you woke didn’t compare to the elation of reaching forward and touching it. Of feeling his skin against yours, the relaxed muscles of his half-asleep body, gathering you as close to him as he could.

It was perfect.

Except, there was one thing being tucked against him couldn’t fix, that all the fighting for your health couldn’t cut away.

Nightmares.

Waking up to the love of his life tended or thrashing in his arms was a hurdle he never even thought of when he yearned for your presence in his life. Jack did everything he could, whispering into your hair, running soothing hands over your skin, even signing his favorite country lullabies when you woke and needed his voice to cling to. It made him wish for the times when you’d find each other in your dreams, when he could look you in your eyes and mouth to you that he would do anything to make sure it was okay. 

It made him wish, as as he had before, that the universe had given him you under different circumstances. 

And in a way, he got his wish.

-

It was hazy, he almost couldn’t see – musty and damp and dark, like he was a basement.

In the background of his mind there was a pulsing ache of fear, desperation, claustrophobia, and betrayal. It was gnawing at him, steady as a drum, pounding and painful.

Jack tried go move, his limbs heavy and stiff and different, than he remembered them. Harrier, darker, less … human. You were tucked into his side, tears drying on your face as your hands wander across the expanse of his chest.

The rising panic in his chest subsided.

Everything was different except one thing. You loved him, and he loved you.

Sure that everything could be okay, he shook his head to clear it, confused at the weight and size of it, before he woke, for real.

-

Jack felt strange, lighter and smaller, and he took slow breaths through his mouth. Against his side, you were still asleep, mercifully peaceful, and your hand twitched on his chest, running through the folds of his shirt like it was part of him.

When you woke, you’re eyes were puffy, but void of the familiar dark circles you’d grown accustomed to. Footsteps lighter than he could remember them being in awhile, Jack made you pancakes that morning, thinking nothing of the dream he had. 

You were his love, brought to him by the universe and some science, and his sheer power of will, and he wasn’t going to dwell on anything other then the fact that you were here. He was going to take it day by day.

It was a byproduct of your trauma, your need to stay close to him, and he liked having you a step away, or better yet, under his arm. Well rested, you slipped your hand into he crook of his elbow and talked more boldly around his coworkers. When you mimicked his accent he nearly cried, thankful beyond words he could see the teasing glint in your eyes, clear of the usual sheen of anxiety.

It was more than enough, your energy, to occupy his heart and mind the whole day through.

-

Your body had been sore when you went to bed, just a little from building your strength and keeping up with your long-limbed lover.

But this was something different, something new. Your body ached, pulsing and throbbing and through the haze of confusion you realized you needed… Jack. Where was he? He should know. He should be able to feel how much you needed him to soothe your pain.

Distress rose in your throat until you could hear yourself, pleading for him, whining in a way you didn’t recognize. You didn’t know who you were talking to, but you were desperate for his touch, his comfort, anything. 

And all of a sudden there he was, like he had heard you, your Jack but… different. Intense, shockingly so, confident and possessive waves rolling off of him, and you would have froze if seeing him didn’t make you need him even more.

When he stooped closer to you, though, the fear melted away, and he was gentle, so caring and worried and tender you could hardly understand it.

He was rougher and softer than the Jack you’d fallen asleep next to, but when he rubbed his nose along your neck, there wasn’t a single worry in your mind. Comfort washed over you, flooded your mind and body, his adoration clear and you could smell him. It was your Jack, your love, and he was taking care of you.

-

At the Statesman headquarters the next day, Ginger caught your arm, and Jack bristled next to you.

The woman let go quickly but her smile was kind as she told you, “You’ve been looking better, recently.”

She wanted to ask What changed? but she hardly could. You were fine the last time you let them test you, and she was well aware she was on thin ice. Besides, other than looking more rested, more self assured, it’s not like there was any evidence that the change in realities was having a lasting impact on you.

You smiled graciously and thanked her, before your love moved you along.

In truth, you felt better, too, and you didn’t want to question it.

-

It was another nightmare.

You surveyed the surrounding wasteland with resignation, less afraid that you had been in one of these in quite a long time. Your legs felt stronger than they had in months, like you’d been hiking. Jack’s whip was in your hand and you stared at it, wondering at the pride and confidence that filled your chest.

The realization hit you – you knew how to use it, enjoyed it even. Baffled at your satisfaction, you went back to examining the woods around you, searching for clues to the place your mind had created for you.

There were people around you, that you vaguely recognized from the Statesman, battered and looking worse for wear. They were listening to your Jack, as he instructed them on something.

Moving closer you saw his facial hair was grown out, rugged and handsome, and there were spatters of something dark on the edges of his clothes. The words coming from his mouth were strange, but you didn’t mind them, determination settling in your gut like you knew what he was saying.

Instinctively, your hand slipped into a pocket of your bag, and you pulled out a little stuffed cat. Perplexed but comforted, you put it away, looking up to see your love coming towards you. He was solid at your side, tired eyes filled with the fire of survival.

“You know I ain’t goin’ anywhere you ain’t, baby,” he said it like a promise he’d spoken many times before.

“I know, cowboy,” you heard yourself say.

-

It took you two steps to Jack’s, when he was walking quickly. The pace made your journey from Gingers office short and you almost laughed at the look on your partner’s face.

You loved him, but sometimes you felt like he was more anxious than you were, about your joining his world’s population.

Her and Soda had just shown you… something crazy, to be sure. All the universes where they’d found you and Jack connected, and it was beautiful, overwhelming.

Once the high had worn off, however, there were lingering thoughts, unspoken fears – what did that mean? What would happen in the universe decided it need more drastic methods to correct the error you created?

The little videos danced in your mind, stirring up foggy memories of things that didn’t quite feel like your own. It left you uneasy, uncertain, but you promised him that they were proof. If you could be certain about one thing, surely it was him?

Settling in his arms that night, you notice he held you tighter, like he was cherishing it as much as he had the very first time he held you.

-

The sun was well into the sky by the time Jack pried his eyes open, and that was normal. He wasn’t sure why, but if definitely felt routine.

This dream was a blurry as he prepared for the day, surprisingly domestic until it stilled again, and his elbows were resting on a long wooden counter.

There was laughter and chatter and country music and flirting and it seemed comfortable, like he belonged here. Almost like this was his home, and he’d been here awhile.

But his heart clenched when he looked around and couldn’t see you. Fear clawed at his throat and he almost thought it would be okay if you were anywhere – with another man or annoyed in the corner or anything, as long as you were here.

But then he felt your hand on his back, and he whipped around, almost knocking over a weeks worth of wages in glass. It didn’t matter, you were there, and he was so glad to see you he didn’t even tan your hide for coming behind the bar.

No, instead he kissed you until he heard hoots and hollers from his patrons, relishing the way you kissed him back, hands holding him like he was your anchor. 

Pulling away, he realized a crudely dressed ex-customer was walking out the door, no doubt suddenly aware of the futility of flirting with him, and he tugged you into his side.

When you looked at him unquestioningly, he knew, to the sole of his boots, you weren't going anywhere.

The burning of the ring in his pocket lessened, and he kissed you again.

-

Jack woke, more at ease than he’d been for a long time. Tilting his head he watched your eyes move behind your eyelids, lashes fluttering before you sighed and tucked your nose into his neck and settled.

It was a perfect moment, or it would have been, if Ginger’s show yesterday wasn’t still sticking in his kind, buzzing around like a summer fly, too small and quick to grasp. His previous worries of you being taken from him, were eased by his dreams but…

His dreams. Finally, he could place a finger on what was so strange about those images saying before his eyes yesterday. It was almost as if he’d had that feeling, of connection to you, before. Almost if he’d been having them for months.

Jack mulled it over for throughout the morning, wondering if having such an odd conversation was worth spoiling the peaceful Saturday.

You looked so cozy, wrapped in one of his sweatshirts, rocking gently on his patio, the sunshine brushing your outstretched toes.

But he couldn’t resist. It felt like a gift from the universe, those little dreams, and he wanted to acknowledge it.

“I’ve been having dreams about you lately,” he said, settling next to you with a strange sense of dejavu.

“Yeah?” you asked, cuddling into him like it had never been different. “What kinda dreams?”

“Well…” he started, “it’s like I’m me… but I’m not. Like those different universes Ginger and Soda showed us – I’m Jack from somewhere else, doing something else. And then you’re there, darlin, and just when I know everything’s going to be okay – ”

“You wake up,” you finished, giddy laughter bubbling out of you. “I’ve been havin the same dreams, I thought… I thought it was just me.”

“Again,” Jack joined you laughter, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I think we can reasonably come to the same conclusion we did last time, cowboy,” you said, relaxing into the warmth of his chest again.

“Maybe this was all meant to be, somehow.”

Jack leaned down to kiss your temple, his mouth almost smiling too wide to do it properly.

“Maybe like we were meant to be.”

-

Jack woke alone in his bed, longing in his heart.

As he got up and got ready for work, his movements were methodical, boring, simple. It was lonely, a feeling he hadn’t quite felt in awhile, and he hated it, wondering why it felt so wrong.

When he looked through his kitchen window, he knew.

Across his yard and part of another, there you were, sleepy as you picked up the newspaper off your porch. You glanced at his house and he almost ducked like a teenager caught peeping, but he held his ground, ready to wave if your eyes met his.

When they didn’t, a need rose in his stomach, insistent. There was no way he could start his day without seeing you – and when he checked the clock, it confirmed the theory blooming in his mind.

He had planned for this.

Grinning, he threw on his boots and slipped out the door, grabbing an extra handful of eggs to share with you.

In the back of his mind, Jack thought it was nice, to get to fall in love with you in a normal way.

-

You woke alone in your bed, longing in your heart.

Rolling out of it, you began to get ready, a nagging feeling on your mind. You shouldn’t feel lonely, it said, and you almost believed it.

Still, you werent sure what to do about it, you had to get ready for the day. You had ample time, for some reason, but making a real breakfast, one with eggs, seemed like it would only make you with you had someone to eat them with. So you wandered around your house, confused at why your feet wanted to carry you outside.

When you did, to get the newspaper, you knew. Looking over at the house next to yours, you scolded yourself for not remembering – Jack. Your love, your cowboy, wait. No, your crush.

The pig milling around his garden looked at you, and you could’ve sworn she winked.

Back inside, you watched through the window as he sauntered his way over o your home, and you grinned. He was wearing his boots and jeans and his shirt was mis-buttoned, and he was bringing over some of his eggs.

In the back of your mind, you were thankful for the chance to fall in love, the normal way.

-

Bonus:

Jack sighed, turning his pencil to tap the eraser on the paper of the notebook.

He wasn’t sure how he got here, really it didn’t make sense, but here he was, nonetheless. Writing stories about a love of his life he hadn’t met yet.

It didn’t bother him really, as the lines filled the papers, but he’d been catching himself daydreaming a lot recently. He liked the idea of someone out in the universe, sweet and kind and lovely, who adored him just as thoroughly.

And little did he know, that he was right.

<<

taglist?: 

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge

whiskey taglist?:

@0celestialbitch0

[n-blanca-archived]

↳ CLASS 1-A HC’S TO MAKE YOU SMILE (hopefully) 

A/N: i’ve been on class-1a brainrot (yes, all of them. collectively) for SO LONG and honestly? I love it here. romance is all good and dandy but FRIENDSHIP? good shit. 

on that note, these pairings are all platonic! just little things i like about their dynamics or things i think they’d do when they hang out :) feel free to see them as romantic though, not like i can stop you :P

p.s sorry for dipping??? for like months???

genre: fluff

warnings: minor situational angst

→ Denki & Izuku

❑ These two boys are the other’s hype-man, totally. Kaminari absolutely does not mind sitting through Izuku’s ravings about the fluctuating hero rankings, or even just the times where Izuku mutters on and on. 

❑ Kaminari’s been ignored enough times to know that it doesn’t feel good at all to want to talk to someone and for them to sheepishly tell you they’d long since stopped listening. Izuku does the same for Denki, no question. Sometimes Denki starts talking, and he doesn’t really...stop. 

❑ But Izuku finds it’s nice to hang out with the boy, and he doesn’t mind not contributing to the conversation when Denki looks so elated to see someone listening for once. 

❑ While I will forever be the number one advocate for Bakugou tutoring Denki and finding different studying strategies that work for Denki instead of giving up on him, I think Izuku’s just as likely to do that for kami! 

❑ It’s a frustrating first session, but once Izuku’s brian suggests that Kami might just need another method of studying, he takes that idea and runs with it. 

❑ The next week, kami goes to Izuku’s room a little afraid of the freckled boy rejecting him- but to his surprise, Izuku presents him with all types of new study methods, including colored index cards and a home-made sentence reader that covered the entire page except for one line at a time.

❑ (yes, he did tear up for a second.) 

❑ They end up going through that week's chapter in half the time it usually took Denki to get a subject, and they got to play video games afterward! 

→ Ochako & Katsuki

❑ While I don't think the boys in 1-A look down on the girls in the sense of "but they're girls so they are weaker :(" all that much- Katsuki was the first and only one really to make that clear. He didn't see her as something or someone to pity. She was an opponent and a damn capable one at that.

❑ So, yes. Maybe Ochako and Katsuki aren't exactly best friends who'd die for each other. But they’ve proven to each other that if there's someone who'll bring their all to a fight no matter the circumstance, it's each other.

❑ Ochako’s weariness when it came to Katsuki was short lived. It was kind of hard to be so...afraid of someone who treated you better than others seemed to coddle her when she told them she was a hero-in-training. 

❑ It starts small, too. At first it was just teaming up occasionally during class for spars. Then it was going to the gym after school with Katsuki and Eijirou. 

❑ Tiny little hang-outs like that then turn into joining the blonde on his morning runs every once in a while, and eventually Ochako found herself seeking out Bakugou every weekend, and the blonde seemed to be on the same mind-track, too. Every Sunday, when Ochako pulled open the front door, she spotted Katsuki, stretching out in the front lawn, waiting for her. 

❑ (and if they occasionally have breakfast together after their bi-weekly sunday training sessions, then that's their business.)

→ Shouto & Eijirou

❑ them hanging out wasn't really ever. Expected. Like, at all.

❑ but kirishima's shown that he has a knack for weird, almost hostile awkward boys with low friend counts

❑ so shouto fits right in

❑ really it starts when Kirishima finds Shouto in the common room, staring into space. Usually he'd leave him be, but it was weird to see the boy without his group of friends joining him

❑ in an effort to get to know shouto better, kiri offers to play a few rounds of super smash bros,,, and shouto just. blinks. at him. And kiri blinked back for a second before he realizes shouto didn't know what super smash bros was

❑ and of course, to kiri, that's absolute blasphemy

❑ so kiri abandons his trip to the kitchen in favor of sitting next to shouto on the couch, and teaching him how to play as many video games as they could fit in one night

❑ (the first time kiri sees shouto laugh, he can't help the way his face splits into a grin. Todoroki, while not mean, was someone who came off as cold most of the time, so to see him so relaxed made Eijirou feel warm.)

❑ somehow it becomes a regular thing-- shouto would come downstairs, and eventually Kirishima would show up. Sometimes they were both alone, sometimes they were surrounded by their friend groups. But every time without fail, Kirishima would take his place next to shouto, hand him the blue controller that he favored, and turned on the TV to select the first game they'd be playing

❑ (watching Shouto start to gain some of Kirishima's vernacular was also an interesting - read:hilarious - experience)

→ Mina & Yuga

❑break dancing buddies

❑ like. I'm not kidding these two have moves.

❑ well. Mina does, at least. Aoyama gets it pretty quickly but it took him a second to familiarize himself with how your body moves when your break dancing.

❑ aoyama's danced ballet most of his life, so dancing wasn't new to him

❑ but this particular type of dancing was new to him- so of course he reached out to mina after the UA festival

❑ mina, ever the angel, agreed!!!!! Dancing buddies!!!

❑ Mina's also loved dance for a good amount of time

❑ it started in middle school, and just carried into highschool. The idea of being to express yourself with your /body/ was exciting, plus you looked really cool while doing it too!

❑ so when she gets asked by Aoyama to teach him how to breakdance she's nervous, but completely giddy to be able to be someone else's intro to a hobby that was a big part of her life

❑ it's not an uncommon sight to see mina and Aoyama, in their workout clothes, working through moves Step by step with Mina's phone blasting some random song that was beat heavy

❑ (Aoyama would be an interesting extra add on to the bakusquad. Am I wrong? No 🚗)

→ Hanta & Tsuyu

❑ Sero never really interacted with tsuyu, not to say he didn't like her! she just wasn't in his social circle

❑ so to say he felt awkward when he found her in the corner of the library during free period- curled up and sniveling away - was an understatement

❑ still, he put down the fourth issue of a manga he was /really/ looking forward to catching up on, and sat next to her until she calmed down enough to tell him what's wrong

❑ turns out, winter always sucked and made her tired, which made her sad. Added on to the already existing amphibian instincts in her that hated loud noises or too many people, it could get really overwhelming for her

❑ Sero offered to let her into his room whever she wanted to hang out in the quiet, if she felt embarrassed to do so with her closer friends

❑ she seemed surprised, but quickly agreed.

❑ Sero wouldn't tell her, but he often felt the same in a sense. The only two people in his friend group who could be relatively quiet in more personal settings were Bakugou, ironically, and Kirishima. So he often found himself leaving group hang-outs just a little early, to destress in his quiet room.

❑ tsuyu hadn't expected him to stay with her, and especially not offer his room to her whenever she needed to get away. Still, she agreed, knowing she'd probably never take him up on his offer

❑ she was proven wrong three days later, when Ochako squealed about...something.

❑ tsuyu couldn't say for sure what the floaty girl was yelling about. Normally she was attentive, really! But her head was throbbing and she was on the verge of falling asleep then and there when Ochako burst into a loud yell of excitement, startling the frog-like girl

❑ so tsuyu gathered her stuff as quickly as her sluggish body allowed, rushed out a quick goodbye to her baffled friends and made her way to the dorms

❑ the elevator was a struggle, with the humming of the machinery almost lulling her to sleep. She made it out successfully, though due to her drowsiness and increasingly blurring vision, she realized just a little too late that she had wandered down the wrong hallway

❑ sero's name plate made her stutter in her tracks, but after a moment of deliberation that left her swaying on her feet, she knocked as strongly as she could on the thin door, hoping the lanky boy was in his room

❑ thankfully, he was, and he only offered her a small smile before ushering her into the room and guiding her to his bed. Tsuyu thinks she croaked out a tiny "thanks", but she couldn't really be sure

❑ she slept better in those 39 minutes than she had in weeks

❑ after that, tsuyu somehow got into the habit of wandering down the opposite hallway once she left the elevator, and most of the time Sero would open his door when she knocked, only giving her a smile before letting her wander to his bed or, more commonly, the pile of blankets and bean bags he had in a corner of his room.

❑ (she wouldn't admit it, and neither would he, but the times where they walked back to his dorm together once their free period began were their favorites. and the days where tsuyu wasn't so sleepy and they talked for the hour they had weren't so bad, either)

okokok i’m cutting it here since that last section was super long! who knew i had so much to say about hanta and tsuyu ,,,, 

anyway! this was super fun, so i’ll definitely be doing stuff like this more in the future. if you have two characters you’d particularly like to see, don’t be afraid to jump into my ask box! 

[with-my-murder-flute]

by the sword (Nile genfic, 2.6k)

Fic summary: Nile learned fencing and longsword and hand-to-hand fighting long before she ever met Andy's small army. But learning with them is a new form of difficult. Not because they've got thousands of years more experience (though they do), but because this time the practice doesn't stop when somebody gets hurt.

So she has to learn about war and how you balance it out with peace. Figure out how they do it and who she wants to be. And decide which weapons suit her best.

Content notes: Explicit depiction of the injuries Nile gets when training in knife fighting and quarterstaff combat with Nicky and Joe. There are also discussions of the physical damage done by different kinds of weapons, the butchering of animals, and people cutting off their own body parts in industrial accidents. (Oh, and a positive/sympathetic portrayal of Nile as a Christian)

They promised that in March they'd start teaching Nile how to fight with a sword, but when March came, Nicky gave her a knife.

A hauntingly familiar one, even though she'd never touched it before. For a second she thought it was her own, the Ka-Bar she planted in Andy's shoulder the day they met. Instead, as she turned it over, finding it familiar in every groove and contour, she found it an anonymous and identical match to her dad's instead. Not new, with the black paint worn down around the edges of the handle, but not a knife she knew. It could have been used by any Marine in the world except her. Except her father.

"You know too much," Joe explained from the side of the hangar, where he'd tumbled an umbrella stand of swords out onto a tarp and started removing their rust with fine-grit sandpaper. "We're not knights or cavaliers. For them, swordfighting was about honour. There were rules. We don't have any of that."

Nile knew going into this that nothing she knew so far was real swordsmanship. Like yes, she could fence; she'd competed in foil and saber for two years as a teenager. But that was closer to stagefighting than actual combat. It was all so staged and carefully managed. Even in her longsword league they said over and over again, it was a martial sport, not actual combat. They could imagine what it might have been like—could land heavy blows on armour, could mime falling down dead—but that wasn't the reality of it.

It seemed to her that the purpose of beginning with knife-fighting lessons was to go over territory she already knew, and do it for real this time. Nicky said he had something else in mind, some principle of combat he meant to teach. But that wasn't what Nile noticed.

What Nile noticed was that this time, she really died.

The old people argued it over, about how to teach Nile. Andy's example made them newly-cautious, but this was the way they'd always trained: You had to do it through blood and pain, you had to fight when you were still resurrecting. It was the way Andy and Quynh had trained Nicky and Joe.

Nile wondered, in the back of her mind, if being trained like that had something to do with the way Booker... well, Booker. After he'd already had such terrible experience of war that he'd wanted to desert. But that was the kind of thing she didn't air out loud, because they'd only just stopped having that kind of useless, circular, self-flagellating argument. She figured she'd keep her own peace on Booker.

She also opined, after hearing them wrangle over it for a day or two, that she'd rather practice with live weapons and get injured among friends than play it safe and incur a dangerous injury among enemies.

And when the knife fighting started, she was grateful they hadn't moved directly to longswords.

They taught knights how to do this, Nicky said, by having them slaughter and butcher animals. It taught you your way around muscles and tendons and joints. He offered to take her to a bullfight sometime, which she didn't say sounded so barbaric she had to wonder why PETA bothered with picketing rodeos.

He said that after her trachea healed over. She hadn't actually died that time; you had to aim further up or to the side to get the carotid artery. But the horror—not actually the pain, but the horror of feeling the air wheeze through the gash in her throat—had been so overwhelming that she'd barely resisted the pin he got her in. She'd just shuddered with her arms behind her back and his weight pressing her down until it healed, and tapped out of the rest of the afternoon. He'd been understanding when she didn't want to be around him for a bit, and let Joe gather her into a hug and let her cry.

That was when he told her about the bulls. She told him about Chicago's meatpacking district, about the old men she knew who'd butchered hogs every day of their lives for decades. About how they said they got numb to it, until one day one of them cut off his thumb with a machine and didn't feel it, until the guy next to him looked over and noticed all the new blood. About how after you see too much violence, your brain just stops processing it. About how a study on kids in the next neighbourhood over from hers had shown they had permanently elevated levels of cortisol, a sign that their bodies were under stress all the time and didn't know how to calm down.

Those were the kind of conversations Andy couldn't stay in the room for. She slunk off somewhere and got drunk, and you saw her the next morning, maybe. Nile used to judge her a lot more for it, but the day her throat got cut she let Joe and Nicky feed her a red wine as soft as velvet and fell asleep pressed against Joe on the sofa and understood, deeper than words, just how much keeping sane meant feeling anything other than your body shattering into pain.

Nicky braided her hair, the next day. Slow and careful, a little unpracticed, singing ballads in a language that wasn't exactly dead, but only had a few thousand speakers left in northern Italy. Their composer hadn't been good, exactly, but they'd been snowed into a castle with him one winter in the 1680s, so Nicky remembered his entire repertoire. Nile listened to the music and knew he'd refuse if she offered to record it, or write it down. One of the songs felt like the length of a novel (but was, when she checked her phone, more like one hour twenty) and by the end of it she was singing the chorus along with him, and it occurred to her that she could simply ask him to teach her.

"You can't rescue every one you see," she remembered her mom saying, when she found a half-stunned bird on the sidewalk. That was what it felt like with languages.

That afternoon Andy took her to the market. Ostensibly it was for groceries, but Andy didn't do simple errands, especially not when it involved food. She stopped to smell fruit Nile had never heard of; Google told Nile that medlar and quince were related to apples and also, apparently, roses. Nile had to try pine nuts, wild mustard, and three different kinds of yogurt drinks, one of which tasted of roses. Andy protested when she added a bag of potatoes to the load, saying they were bland, but Nile, who'd had enough of turnips, sweetly told her to pay the fuck up.

If you were lonely, and hurting, and didn't have someone to hold you, you could comfort yourself like this. Sunshine and sweetmeats and the steady hands of friends. Something, but probably still not enough. Nile understood it but it made her chest ache. She felt, sometimes, a little glad that Andy would die someday, the way families felt helping someone keep alive from cancer. Of course you wanted them to be alive, but you didn't want them to suffer.

Joe moved her on to staff fighting the next day. It was, he said, not the most useful of weapons in the current day and age, since it was most useful against long bladed weapons, "And who else but us uses those?" But there was some kind of theoretical basis behind the progression of her teaching, from weapon to weapon, and after knife came staff.

To tell the truth, Nile liked it. She'd learned about quarterstaff in her longsword weapons, as something that could defeat a swordsman, but nobody anybody she knew actually practiced it, because while you could wear percussion-resistant cloth and keep safe with blunted swords, there was simply no defending your bones against the percussive strike of a giant whirling stick.

There was something less offensive about getting your skull split or your collarbone broken, compared to getting stabbed. Partly it was because Joe was just a much nicer teacher, slower and more patient, while Nicky would keep stabbing you as you fought to reach your own knife. But also it felt more impersonal, more like an accident that had happened to you.

Okay, and it was also more fun. Knives created small imaginary hemispheres of pain, the angle of the arm as it swept out. Quarterstaves were huge, so long that if you wanted to get around them, sometimes it was literally easier to flip yourself into the air or dump your opponent to the ground instead of getting the staff to move. The first time she managed to run up a wall to get leverage on him, it felt so awesome she didn't actually mind that much that he popped her shoulder out taking her back down.

It was bloody and violent and really would have been impossible if dying had been a significant barrier for them. It made Nile laugh in a high-on-endorphins way, because it felt like she could finally push past the pain and find a place beyond her limits. It felt like being free. Like all her life she'd been wearing a heavy armor of caution, knowing she'd had to keep herself alive, and now she just felt the lightness of taking it off.

There were tears at the back of that laughter, about everything she'd lost because of it, but she pushed that away and went to shower. She and Joe spent the evening on Youtube, watching videos of capoeira and wushu, while the other two made a batch of some kind of pickled egg they thought they remembered from three hundred years ago.

Nile hugged Andy sometimes, because she looked like she needed to be hugged. Andy almost never turned her down.

A long time ago, she thought she remembered, holding a sword had seemed to transport her to some other time. Some other place. Like the sword had been a tangible connection to the past, to a time when things felt... clearer, or truer, or more real somehow. Like the feeling the word "honour" gave her, of something echoing and amplifying through a vaulted space. There was a time when people fought with swords for what they believed in. There was a time when you knew what was right and what was wrong and laid down your life accordingly.

She'd been twelve and believed in fairytales. So sue her.

The swords in their armory spelled out a long story of misery and war. When she held them now, Nile felt like she could feel the bodies that had come into contact with their blades. Curved single-bladed sabers and scimitars, ideally wielded from horseback, meant for a decisive downward chop. Nicky's giant longswords, meant to peel an armored knight like a tin can. (He'd used it, he said, to similar effect on a tank once or twice.) Andy's axes showed her age; before they had the metallurgy to make an entire blade, it was better to use a wood polearm with a blade on the end, and focus the sharp metal to a curved edge, to as small a surface area as possible.

Andy's axes showed her age, but not theirs; they were less than ten years old. Steel, especially steel that came into contact with blood, aged fast enough (and could only take so much of a beating) that the old people knew and had opinions on all the modern replica manufacturers. The oldest blades in the collection were used at Waterloo, only a little more than 200 years ago.

(Nile wondered, as she polished one and rubbed a state-of-the-art hydrophobic finish on it, if the quarterstaff lessons were actually preparing her to fight Booker, should she ever find herself opposing him. It was the kind of thing she couldn't help but think about the logistics of. Surely firearms would be more effective, she initially reasoned, except... guns jammed, guns broke, guns overheated, guns ran out of bullets. And then your gun became a very expensive bludgeon. And you're facing a swordsman who's had 200 years to train. So... why not try a very big stick?)

She knew that even this team could betray her. Even they could fight for the wrong cause. They'd supported revolutions that turned into dictatorships and fought alongside people who turned out to be monsters. There was no promise, no moral certainty, in violence.

So she felt really stupid about it, but the truth was that holding a sword... still brought back that old emotion. That feeling of being capable of doing things. Fighting for a better world. It made her feel taller. It made her feel like her life had a purpose that she'd been heading towards since she was young.

Like God had called her for a special purpose.

Which she'd never say to any of the rest of them, since Andy had been a god and Nicky had been a holy warrior and Joe had broken down completely once, when they let him get too close to a newspaper. They'd only ever hear it with the weight of all the horror they had seen.

So instead she had to carry it as a private conviction, a calling she would have to follow by herself, her own career to make holy instead of horrific. Like when she joined the Marines. Freer, in some ways, but even more out of her depth, not sure she totally understood the situations she was injecting herself into.

The fact that she wasn't sure she ever could walk the path of righteousness and keep herself always on the side of good... was absolutely no inducement not to try. It never had been.

"Picked one yet?" Andy asked, from the door.

"What, you guys weren't gonna pick one for me?" Nile asked, craning her neck around. Andy had her hands buried in the pockets of her jacket, smiling faintly.

"Some things, nobody can pick for you," she said. She picked up one of Nile's polished sabers and admired the sheen along its blade. "Your last-ditch weapon, least of all."

Nile already had a secret favourite of all the swords, but what she found herself saying was, "I want us to do some training in de-escalation."

Andy looked aside from the blade. "Sorry?"

Nile took a deep breath, her heart suddenly pounding like crazy. "That's what I was trained in, aside from combat. De-escalating conflicts. When I was a security guard, we... I got a course on mental health crisis from a guy who does hostage negotiation. I want... we should practice it."

She was ready to be seared by Andy's instant, caustic sarcasm. By a reminder that they were a specialist unit brought in when negotiation failed. Instead Andy looked back at the sword, twisting it to catch the light. "Was it useful?"

"Yeah," Nile said, trying not to let the breath shudder out of her in one long exhale. She didn't want Andy to know how nervous she'd been. "There's a... a lotta conflicts that don't have to turn violent, if you just approach it in..." She ran out of steam for an instant, and shrugged. "If you know how to respond."

"See if there's a webinar," Andy said, which flabbergasted Nile so much—coming from Andy!—that she didn't have anything to say while Andy set the saber down and sauntered back out of the building.

Nile sat for a good long while after that, surrounded by swords on a floor stained with her own blood, and got her breathing under control. Eventually she took her knife out of its sheath and looked it over.

It felt silly, to take a sacred oath on a Ka-Bar knife.

"I swear to almighty God," she said to it, anyway, "that I will use you as my last resort. Not my first."