#guess who went to see inside out 2 and wept the entire time?????

[hyperfocusthusly]

“Maybe that’s what growing up is, just feeling less joy.”

Sorry Pixar could you get the fuck out of my house

[robininthelabyrinth]

Strange Creatures Brothers Be (aka WWX & NMJ sworn brothers) - Chapter 5

AO3 or part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

-

If Wei Wuxian had been asked to guess, he would have said that the visit to the Lotus Pier would be difficult and the Unclean Realm easy, and instead it turned out to be the exact opposite, which he supposed demonstrated exactly how poor of a fortune-teller he would make.

The Jiang sect forces, led by Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, had taken over the Lotus Pier some time before the final battle, so it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already had the emotionally devastating moment of returning to see it covered in Wen suns – to see the devastation that had been wrought upon it, all the old beloved places violated and irrevocably tainted with the blood of his friends, his shidi and shimei, Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu…

It looked much better now, in truth. Jiang Cheng had stationed lots of disciples there to protect their home while they continued to fight on the front line, ordering them to begin repairs at once, and while the entire place smelled of renovations it at least did not stink of blood and viscera. They had torn up and replaced most of the flooring as the first priority, so that they wouldn’t have to look for strange stains on the floor as they stepped, and if they still didn’t have a dining room, an entrance hall, or a private laundry, then at least they had a kitchen, and the memorial hall had been fully restored.

Jiang Cheng must have asked them to prioritize that, Wei Wuxian thought, and felt a stab of guilt from the fact that he didn’t know for sure.

He’d always known that he would need to figure out a way to stay distant from Jiang Cheng after the war – there was no way to explain why he wasn’t helping to train their new disciples, why he wasn’t standing by his side with Suibian the way he had promised time and time again to, not without touching on subjects that must forever remain taboo – but he hadn’t quite realized just how much responsibility he’d abdicated before now.

He hadn’t even been helping out with the paperwork, and that was something anyone could do.

The Nie sect techniques he’d been practicing the past few days focused on mindfulness and consideration of consequences, on habituating oneself to force in a bit of contemplation before any action was taken – not exactly natural to him, but then again the Nie sect techniques were all designed with the assumption that the practitioner was a reckless hothead – and it threw everything into stark relief for him. Wei Wuxian had only pulled away from Jiang Cheng because he didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to stain him with his demonic cultivation or reveal to him what had been done for him, but wasn’t this hurting him, too? Having to do all of this alone, without Wei Wuxian at his side - wouldn’t Jiang Cheng feel disappointed in him, maybe even betrayed?

It’s like having a mountain at your back, keeping you steady, he’d said to Jiang Cheng, about Nie Mingjue.

Don’t you know you’re just the same to me? Jiang Cheng had told him.

He wasn’t acting like very much of that right now.

Wei Wuxian had to keep distant, he knew that; he couldn’t tell Jiang Cheng the truth, he knew that. And yet – something had to be done about this unpleasant and untenable state of affairs, where Jiang Cheng tried to respect him but also hint to him how much he needed him and Wei Wuxian ignored him and pretended not to care while also tearing himself apart inside…

He’d tell Nie Mingjue about the whole thing soon, Wei Wuxian promised himself. His big brother would know what to do, somehow, or at least he’d have something to say on the matter.

Nie Mingjue was a foundation of rock, steady and unwavering, and after the terrible uncertainty of the war it was utter bliss to find something upon which one could rely. And not just for Wei Wuxian himself, who would very reluctantly admit that he clearly actually did need a bit of a steadying hand the way everyone had so irritatingly always insisted he did, but also for Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli as well.

Wei Wuxian could tell from the way they looked at Nie Mingjue, and he didn’t blame them one bit.

Not when Nie Mingjue walked through the Lotus Pier and praised them for the work they’d been doing, sparing but sincere in his compliments; when he offered not only suggestions for improvements and food for thought but also concrete promises of trade deals that would benefit them both – Qinghe timber and metal in exchange for Yunmeng cloth and dye, meat and dairy for fish and poultry, upholsterers to go help the Unclean Realm return from its status as a fortress and masons to come to reinforce the walls of the Lotus Pier so that they were never attacked again.

Not when he patiently sat with Jiang Cheng as they went through the endless paperwork and decisions he had to make as the leader not only of a sect but of a Great Sect, pointing out subtleties in the requests from their affiliated sects and reminding him of considerations that didn’t immediately spring to mind, helping lay out risk and reward alike while leaving the decision entirely in his hands.

Not when he talked, with some restraint, about their parents, which he had known well through his role as sect leader. He had a completely different perspective on them, from his additional age and his more distant position; for all that his stories were usually short and to the point, he could nevertheless drive them all to tears of laughter over hearing about how their parents were with their peers, strange as it was to think of Nie Mingjue as such – he really had come on his role far too young.

After one night when they’d lit incense and done all the rituals they could and wept all the tears that they had left in them, they’d shared several jars of wine with him, and by the end of the night they had learned to start anticipating how his stories would generally end with “and then I wanted to punch them in the face”. Though they couldn’t quite figure out whether that was because of their parents’ flaws – Nie Mingjue was not subtle enough a diplomat to leave those details out, and they wouldn’t have wanted him to – or because of his own disposition, it still, as Jiang Cheng said while giggling terribly on at least two jars of wine too many, make for a very good punch line.

Wei Wuxian had expected to have to spend his entire visit to the Lotus Pier avoiding Jiang Cheng and trying not to think of all he’d lost.

He hadn’t expected to be swept up in the minutiae of rebuilding, arguing loudly over what type of wood they should use for the entrance hall and whether they really need to restore the sect leader’s chair exactly as it had been (Jiang Cheng was of the view that it was tradition, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli were of the view that it looked really dumb, and Nie Mingjue removed himself from the conversation on the grounds of laughing too hard to answer) or teaming up to bully their vendors into revising their delivery estimates into something a little more reasonable.

“A-Xian, maybe your reputation would improve if you stopped threatening to throw a fierce corpse at people who disagreed with you,” Jiang Yanli said, hiding her smile with her sleeve.

“Maybe his reputation would improve if he started offering other people the opportunity to pelt a fierce corpse at disreputable merchants,” Jiang Cheng sniffed. “Hey, Chifeng-zun, you interested?”

“More than words can say,” Nie Mingjue said solemnly. “Tell me, do you also sell a mechanism for the throwing part, or are the corpses sold by the weight? Not everyone can hurl a corpse as far as I can.”

“I wasn’t going to actually throw a corpse at him!” Wei Wuxian protested, grinning widely. “Do I look like I just carry corpses in my sleeves?”

“Possibly if the corpse was the size of a pheasant?” Jiang Cheng said. “Hey, Wei Wuxian, can you resurrect pheasants?”

“He’d better not,” Jiang Yanli said, giggling helplessly by this point. “That’s our lunch!”

Here in the Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian could help out with important matters, could be trusted and not held at arms’ length unless he wanted to be. Here in the Lotus Pier, he could hug all the people he’d known from before, the survivors who had escaped or who had been away, he could shout out encouragement to the new disciples to balance out Jiang Cheng’s scolding, he could make himself useful by drawing talismans or correcting the postures of would-be archers. Here in the Lotus Pier, he could tie Suibian to his belt the way Jiang Cheng wanted if he wished, without being afraid that someone would try to make him draw it, or else he could leave his sword behind in his room and it would be seen as natural – who carried their sword when they were at home?

Here in the Lotus Pier, he was at home.

He’d missed home, Wei Wuxian discovered. He’d missed having a safe place to call home – and the Lotus Pier was finally safe again.

At least for the moment.

At least for the moment, now, when he had a good reason to avoid spars or training or anything that required the use of a golden core – injured, he sang out any time someone raised it, still injured, sorry, can’t help you – and even if that made his visit here bittersweet, knowing that he still hadn’t resolved the underlying issues that would eventually tear them all apart, it was still sweeter than anything he had any right to. He wouldn’t have exchanged one second of his time there for all the world.

And then they went to Qinghe.

They rode there, taking the scenic route in order to sweep up whatever demonic creatures had popped up as a result of the war, and when at last they arrived at the Unclean Realm the Nie sect was out in force to greet their sect leader.

At the head of them all was, of course, Nie Huaisang, who immediately ruined the whole grandiose effect by throwing himself forward into his brother’s arms, wailing, “Da-ge, you’re back, you’re back! You evil creature, you left me here with all the paperwork and all the decisions and everything, how could you? You have to come deal with it at once, I don’t know what I’m doing at all – oh, Wei-xiong! It’s good to see you, too!”

As unstoppable as a hurricane, he’d promptly plucked the qiankun bag in which Nie Mingjue had stored the presents he had purchased for him at the Lotus Pier out of Nie Mingjue’s sleeve and then disappeared back inside, fanning himself furiously and complaining of the heat of the sun, the chill of the wind, the unseasonable temperature…

Nie Mingjue sighed, a great big heaving breath. “Don’t worry,” he said to Wei Wuxian, “I’ll talk to him,” and then he strode inside after him.

Wei Wuxian blinked. “Did I miss something?” he asked one of the Nie sect disciples that remained by his side, an older man who had clearly been assigned to assist him if the way he remained while the others immediately began to disperse was any sign.

“Nie-er-gongzi isn’t a very formal person,” the disciple, who introduced himself as Nie Zonghui, said, sounding somewhat apologetic. “The way he referred to you…”

“…what about it?” Wei Wuxian asked, now even more confused. “He called me Wei-xiong, just the way he always does – I don’t mind it at all.”

Nie Zonghui looked even more apologetic. “That was when you were friends,” he said, and – what? Weren’t they still friends? What was Nie Huaisang supposed to call him, exactly? A-Xian? Or…

Wait.

For us in the big clans, we can’t even distinguish our relationships with our own relatives, much less any others, he remembered Nie Huaisang ranting, all the way back in the Cloud Recesses. Wouldn’t it be better to just call everyone more than two tiers away aunts and uncles, or even brother and sister -

“Knowing what I know about Nie-xiong,” Wei Wuxian said slowly, thinking it through, “if he were really happy to see me, he’d have started calling me er-ge at once, wouldn’t he? Since I’m his brother’s sworn brother and all, and older than he is.”

Nie Zonghui nodded.

“He probably would’ve asked for a first-meeting gift, too.” Even back at the Cloud Recesses, he’d always observed how shameless Nie Huaisang was about gifts. “Possibly several.”

Nie Zonghui nodded again.

“He’s pissed off at me,” Wei Wuxian concluded.

Nie Zonghui nodded a third time.

“But why?”

“Perhaps you should ask your sworn brother,” Nie Huaisang said, appearing as if out of thin air right behind him and making Wei Wuxian jump. Nie Huaisang was not an especially scary-looking individual – he was short, and his face still gave off a feeling of roundness, suggestive of either baby fat or indolence or both – but there was an expression on his face that reminded Wei Wuxian of Nie Mingjue about to enter a battlefield. He hadn’t previously known that Nie Huaisang was capable of making a face like that. “Especially since he swore brotherhood with you without even asking me first.”

Nie Zonghui smiled very fleetingly at Wei Wuxian before disappearing down a nearby hall, and oh, apparently he hadn’t been here to show Wei Wuxian around at all, he’d just stayed to watch the show.

“Nie-xiong, about that -” Wei Wuxian said, meaning to be placating, but then Nie Huaisang took a step forward with his eyes narrowed into slips and he actually found himself taking a step backwards.

“I told you how good my da-ge was, didn’t I?” he asked, and no, actually most of his words were about how awful a tyrant his da-ge was, making him study and train and do all sorts of things like that, only maybe perhaps by implication one could argue that he’d said anything good about him at all, but given the way that Nie Huaisang jabbed his finger into Wei Wuxian’s breastbone like a saber Wei Wuxian thought it might not be good to mention any of that now. “And then the first chance you get, you go off and try to steal him?”

“I didn’t mean to steal –”

“We,” Nie Huaisang hissed like an angry mongoose, “will be having words about this, Wei-xiong.”

And then he stormed off.

Wei Wuxian stood there, abandoned and blinking after him in utter confusion and not a little bit of admiration – it would have taken some gall to scold him when he was just Wei Wuxian, head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, and now that he was a fearsome demonic cultivator, the leader of the destruction of the Nightless City, no one dared to speak to him like that.

Except, apparently, Nie Huaisang.

“Would Wei-gongzi like to be shown to his rooms?” Nie Zonghui – making a belated reappearance – asked politely. The apologetic look was gone, replaced by a look of deep amusement. “We’ve made sure that they’re in the family quarters.”

“You’re trying to get me killed, aren’t you?” Wei Wuxian asked indignantly. “You’re trying to get me murdered! What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing,” Nie Zonghui said. “But it’s about time our second young master took an interest in dismemberment.”

“An interest in – I refuse to be anyone’s training dummy for murder! Do you hear me? I refuse!”

Nie Mingjue would probably make sure that nothing like that happened.

…right?

[seven-homosexual-dinosaurs]

Don’t let me go

Chapter 5: Some feels and shit

Chapter 4  Chapter 3  Chapter 2  Chapter 1

The door opened to reveal a tall, dark woman. Whilst she was slightly taller than crow, Cathy was still taller than her. Her curly hair landed on her shoulders, spread evenly across her shoulders rather than swept to one side like Cathy’s.

“Hello, how can I help-”

Her eyes landed on Cathy.

“-you....”

Both women stared at each other, each frozen in shock. Crow looked from Cathy to Lina, attempting to decipher their expressions. Lina wore a blank expression, eyes widened in shock. Cathy bit her bottom lip nervously, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. It suddenly occurred to crow how odd the two must look, with their muddy (and slightly bloody in Cathy’s case) uniforms and their strange scars. Crow tugged on a strand of her hair nervously, sweating at the growing tension.

Finally, crow spoke up.

“Erm, are you Lina?”

Lina nodded blankly, eyes fixed firmly on Cathy.

“Okay. Um, I’m crow, and this is-”

“-Catherine,” Lina finished breathlessly. Cathy looked up from the ground, eyes shining with tears.

“Hi Lina,”

Lina launched herself at Cathy, who stumbled backwards in surprise. Crow tensed, ready for combat, before realizing they were hugging. Lina wept openly into Cathy’s arms, who pat her back numbly as thick tears ran down her face. Crow stood to the side awkwardly as sobs filled the air, awkwardly looking into the distance. Finally, Lina spoke up through her heaving sobs.

“Catherine Parr, where on earth have you been!?”

Her voice lacked any sort of conviction or anger, too heavy with relief to seem cross.

Cathy sniffled, burying her face into Lina’s chest.

“It’s a long story,”

The two sat there in silence, muffled sobs filling the air as they held each other tightly. The sun set behind the cottage, illuminating the group with it’s pink-blue hues. As the wind picked up, dust began moving through the air. Rubbing her eyes, crow sneezed as a gust of wind blew into her face. Jolting up, Lina looked at crow as if seeing her for the first time.

“Oh-uh, where are my manners? I’m Catalina,” She rubbed the redness from her eyes, not quite succeeding in composing herself, not that crow would ever bring it up.

“Crow,” she nodded politely, shifting her weight awkwardly. Catalina and Cathy stood up reluctantly, still holding each other tightly. The two headed towards the cottage, Catalina ushering them all inside.

Stepping inside, Catalina led the girls towards a small room, a birch table surrounded by four chairs sat in the center. Crow looked around the room, observing the paintings and writings littering the wall. Stepping towards a crinkled piece of paper lying on the counter, crow smiled at the name scrawled messily on the corner.

“Cath, you wrote this?”

Cathy looked towards the paper, groaning in embarrassment as she realized what crow was referring to.

“Ugh, yeah. It’s a story I wrote when I was small. You can read it if you want, just don’t expect it to be any good,”

Catalina rolled her eyes fondly, pulling up a chair as she sat down.

“Well I think it’s plenty good. You two should probably sit down, I’ve got the feeling we’ve got a lot to talk about,”

If anyone noticed the tear stains littering the page, no one mentioned it.

As the two sat down, the door creaked open in the other room. Cathy and crow both jumped, while Catalina’s eyes lit up.

“I’m home! Kitty’s eating with Anna today, so we don’t have to wait for her,”

As Catalina moved to greet the voice, crow felt her entire body tense. The voice sounded..... familiar? But, she reasoned, that would be impossible. How would she recognize the voice if the researchers never spoke and her memories of before were gone? Unless-

Her train of thought was interrupted as Catalina reentered the room, followed by the voice’s owner.

“I- you’ve gotta see this Jane,”

As Jane entered the room, she froze as her eyes landed on the girls.

But she wasn’t looking at Cathy.

Her eyes rested solely on crow, who felt unable to look away as the two stared at each other. Blond hair fell past her shoulders, resting near her lower back. Although she couldn’t be past her mid-twenties, there was a certain fatigue to her eyes that gave her an older look. Her figure, short and plump, was frozen in shock as the women stared each other down. 

Finally, she spoke up.

“....Anne?”

Crow felt dizzy. Anne. That name was familiar. But from where? Was that her name? Did she know this woman? But from where? Who was this woman to her? A friend? Family? A peer? Clutching Cathy for support, crow (or was it Anne?) forced herself to meet Jane’s eyes.

“.....do I know you?”

Crow flinched at the harshness of her words, mentally kicking herself. As silence enveloped the room, Cathy spoke up.

“....I think we all need to talk,”

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

Sat at the table, the four stared at each other warily. Cathy gripped crow’s hand tightly under the table, though crow couldn’t tell if she was doing more for herself or crow. Catalina tapped her fingers awkwardly on her table, the sound resonating through the room. Jane’s eyes rested firmly on crow, who soundly avoided her eyes. Sitting up, Catalina cleared her throat awkwardly. 

“So, while there’s definitely a lot to talk about here, I think first thing’s first. Where have you two been these past few years?”

The question wasn’t asked harshly, rather, it was spoken gently but firmly, leaving no room for dodging the question.

“Well we-”

“You see, I-”

Cathy and crow both looked at each other, erupting into a fit of giggles. Catalina rolled her eyes good naturedly as Jane smiled fondly at the two. As their giggles died down, crow motioned for Cathy to continue.

“Well, we- first of all don’t freak out-”

Catalina and Jane both raised their eyebrows.

“We- we were kind of in- um- a human experimentation facility?”

A horrified silence followed her declaration. Cathy and crow both glanced at each anxiously as Jane and Catalina both stared at them blankly, processing the new information. As Jane’s mouth opened, Cathy hurriedly continued.

“I got there a bit after crow, and we kinda became friends? Well, as friendly as we could get with giant panes of glass between us. Anyways, crow stole a key card off of one of the security guards and used it to get us out. We managed to get our bearings and made our way to Shidgherd before finding our way over here.”

Ignoring the horrified looks the older women gave them, crow spoke up.

“I don’t have any memories of anything before the facility and Cathy thought calling me “G-2″ would be depressing, so we settled on calling me crow, “ 

As she finished, a single tear rolled down Jane’s face as Catalina’s hand raised to her mouth in horror. As Jane hurriedly wiped her eyes, crow felt a jolt of guilt run through her.

You made her cry

Crow’s mind buzzed as she attempted to make the woman feel better. While she wasn’t sure how she knew the woman, she knew seeing her sad made her sad.

“Jane, right? You knew me before?” 

Jane nodded quietly, a pained expression on her face.

“Could you maybe tell me about that?”

Jane nodded once more, inhaling shakily.

“Right, so, I don’t suppose you remember Kitty? Yeah, I guess not. So-um-,”

Jane cleared her throat awkwardly.

“You used to live with me and our younger cousin Kitty before you were taken. We were all cousins with bad families, so we ran away together. You were four, Kitty was two, and I was fifteen when we ran away. You were both so small, but there was a certain.... incident... in the family, and I needed to get you two away from your parents,”

Jane didn’t elaborate and Anne felt too afraid to ask.

“I had to do some work for some.... not too great people to support us. When you were seven, one of my bosses came to talk to me. I knew the conversation might go south, so I told you and Kitty to play outside while we talked. I managed to convince him not to fire me, but when I went outside to get you and Kitty- she-”

Jane was openly sobbing now, taking in deep, heaving breaths in an attempt to steady herself. Catalina placed her hand on Jane’s reassuringly.

“I went out to get you two, except you were gone and Kitty was in hysterics saying someone took you and begging me to bring you back. I managed to make out that someone came up to you two and asked Kitty to come with him. After she kept on refusing, he tried to take her by force. You got him to leave her alone by offering to go with him instead, and told Kitty to wait for me and then left with him. I- I thought you were dead,”

Jane finished with a sob, hugging herself tightly with her arms. Anne stared at her blankly, processing the information. Anne stood up abruptly, her chair falling the the ground behind her with a clatter. 

“I- I need some time to think,”

The three women stared as she sprinted out of the room, the sound of the door slamming shortly following. Catalina wordlessly followed, leaving Cathy with the sobbing Jane.

[crowgale]

Resident Evil 2 AU

Claire Redfield x Elza Walker

Generally the characters are the same, but with a kick of real so they aren't blank slates. Elza herself is a street-smart, confident young woman with a troubled past.

Born Elizibeth Walker in Anchorage, Alaska to parents separated before she was born, her father was an fortuitous yet endearing construction worker who took custody of her until he went missing during the construction of an Umbrella Research Facility in the Rockies during her early teens and was then sent to Connecticut to live with her mother, who was an abusive drug addict.

In her teens she developed a keen interest in motorcycles while overstudying in a library to avoid her mother and further strengthed it with part-time jobs in various mechanics. Eventually she lost hope in her father being found and her increasingly hostile mother drove her to runaway from home, using connections she developed through gangs and mechanics to move to Florida and join an amatuer racing contest in Daytona under the alias 'Elza' (Her father's nickname for her)... where she broke the track record 4 times (The first was the previous fastest lap time, she then broke her own fastest laps 3 times).

By her 18th birthday she had left her criminal ties behind and became a minor celebrity on the fast track to becoming a professional bike racer. She had sponsers ready to pay her into any university she wanted, emancipation from her mother and enough money saved up from work and victories to let her live as an independant young woman.

Elizabeth was gone. She was Elza now, and she had found her path to happiness.

~

By 1996 Claire had enrolled in the University of Houstan, Texas. Chris hoped she would enrol in Kansas City so she'd be closer to him but she wasn't going to be his little sister forever. She had grown up quick after their parents died... they both did.

Elza and Claire first met the week before classes started, Claire having just moved into the dorms a day before; Elza arriving like a perfect storm the next day on an customised kawasaki sports bike and a trailer full of her belongings.

Claire recognised her of course, her debut into the racing world made national headlines. So like a dork Claire was shy and tried to avoid Elza as she rode in on her Harley Davidson, after running an errand off campus.

Elza however, heard the sound of a Harley and wanted to know who owned it. She took one look at Claire in her red leather shorts, that 'Made in Heaven' jacket tied around her waist and that tight black bodysuit she had no business looking so sexy in, decided 'Yeah, I'm chilling with you!" and was having none of it.

There was, what a native of Northern Ireland like myself would call, a fresher's fair that night and like a hawk Elza seeked out the introverted Claire and started asking about her bike.

By the end of the night, Claire's shyness vanished upon realising that the seemingly untouchable queen of bikers, whose body was covered in tattoos and whose hair was as wild and untamed as the wind, was actually a massive dork. Elza however found someone who had quickly seen her and not the racing queen. The dealbreaker came when Elza asked what made her get a bike to begin with.

"Well... my brother owned a Suzuki before but... I guess I saw the film 'Akira' and that's what made me do it"

"Oh my god bitch me too!!!"

The two would then become firm friends. Elza being the misadventurous one who managed to talk Claire into actually leaving the library and give herself a break from studying; Claire being the one to get them out of trouble and keep Elza grounded. The two became a power-couple without realising, defending the other from rude people who mocked Elza for daring to be a woman racer or harassed Claire for her looks or for trying to latch onto a celebrity. It went without saying no one could harass these women if they wanted their hearing and face intact.

Things would eventually become more personal between the two. The week after New Years, Elza received news that her mother had died from a drug overdose. Although she didn't need to, Claire bought a side-car for her bike and rode her to New London for the funeral.

The service itself was tense. Elza being uncharacteristically silent and the lack of relatives worried Claire as the service ended. She never saw Elza's eyes look so cold as she gave her eulogy, which she soon realised was a stock eulogy the minister gave to those who didn't write one.

A while after she was buried in the a man approached Elza in the cemetary, introduced himself as her mother's dealer and decided that since she was a famous racer her mother's debt would pass on to Elza and that she would pay him else there would be cpnsequences; it goes without saying she refused to pay off the debt and apathetically asked him to leave.

Claire was on him like a wolf the moment he slapped her and was ready to kill him when he started to threaten her with a knife.

She very nearly did.

They left New London that evening amidst a police BOLO for a woman with auburn hair seen kicking the living shit out of a man in a graveyard. They made it to Kent Island before a blizzard rolled in and they had to say at an inn along the Chesepeake Bay.

That night Claire meant to apologise for her actions, stating she saw her get hit and just... reacted. But Elza pulled her into a tight hug and finally released her pent up emotions. She told Claire about her fathers disappearance, about the years of torment at her mothers hands, that this wasn't the first time something like this happened, that she doesn't understand why she's crying if she hated her mother so much and how much it hurt to remember all those terrrible things and have someone make her feel like that scared little girl again.

Claire, feeling her best friend shake in her arms, doesn't know what to say. She's silent for a time as Elza holds onto her like a lifeline, as if letting go would make her fall off the Earth itself. She finally tells Elza that she isn't that little girl anymore.

"You are Elza Walker! Yhe Woman who can never be slowed! You're unreachable! Unstoppable! And no one will ever hurt you again!... I... don't want to see you hurt again"

Elza didn't speak for a while after that... but eventually she did and what she said broke Claire.

"I've wished for someone like you my whole life Claire"

~

Life returned to normal soon after that. One tournament race was enough to bring Elza Walker roaring back to life and with a vengeance. She was faster, she was braver, her smile after each weekly victory able to light up the world... or at least Claire's, who now made it a point to go to every race, or at least watch it on TV if the race was in a city too far out of reach.

Elza knew Claire was watching her... she figured that's why she was doing better now.

~

Spring came and went, the summer exams now already a fading memory to the pair, but foreshadowed by Claire losing her part-time job and being unable to find another one. With no means to pay for her student fees it looked like she would be forced to drop-out.

But Elza wouldn't have any of it.

"I know how you can pay off your fees. A guy in my pit crew retired a month ago and I've been short two hands ever since. It's hard work but the pays good and if I make pro next month it'll be even better"; she said idly at a bar one evening.

"You... you want me in your pit crew?"; Claire asked incredulously.

"No, I want you as my personal pitbabe so I can drool at you in a tight spandex jumpsuit looking all cute with dirt on your face"; Elza said with a lop-sided smile.

"Ha!"

"Hm... seriously Claire, I want you there with me. I can't imagine anyone better to look after me on the track"; Elza said confidently.

"...You do take way too many risks"; Claire mused, before Elza held her cheek in her hands.

"You told me once that I am the woman who can never be slowed... well Redfield, I'd slow down for you!"

~

Elza's manager might have called her decision to hire Claire personally driven and entirely unprofessional. However, Claire proved herself highly compotent within a week of employment, being able to keep up with the repairs, adjustments and tyre changes her job demanded.

It was also found that Elza actually listened to Claire whenever she was pushing her luck, which turned out to be a blessing in the final race of the season in San Francesco. Her main rival who was tied for 1st with Elza didn't want to lose to a woman, and in the final 3 laps had begun making poor judgement calls to try and keep up with her. Risky overtakes, tight cornering and high speed was equally met, and soon Elza found herself in a dogfight she refused to lose.

If Claire hadn't screamed at her to brake before the last corner, she would have been thrown off her bike with her rival after an attemped inside lane overtake resulted in them losing control of the bike and wiping out.

Elza won of course, making it into the professional league. It was a dream come true. At no point after she took off her helmet and locked teary eyes with Claire could she make any expression that wasn't a bashful smile or tears of joy. It also seemed like she couldn't stop looking at Claire during the victory reception or later that night on the train ride home... where she had too much to drink, leaving Claire having to help Elza meander into the sleeping car after the 8th Buttery Nipple.

She helped her move herself onto the bed, but Elza didn't let go of her hand. Instead she brought her hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles and held it to her cheek as she openly wept.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 5 (Mafia AU)

Summary:   So where was Blue while Rus was off getting kidnapped and how did he end up with Red, anyway?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Warnings: Some violence. A wee bit of unwanted touching and some innuendo.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

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Read it here!

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It was barely afternoon and Blue was already tired. He’d spent the morning coaxing a variety of flowers in their garden into bloom, gently forcing them to quickly travel through their growth cycles until they were ready to be cut and added to a bouquet.

Normally, their garden had a rigid schedule to keep from pushing the plants too much; stimulated growth could only go so far, after all. But losing most of their stock was forcing Blue to abandon it. Using so much magic in such a short amount of time was exhausting and when Blue parked in their assigned spot, the elderly van wheezing to a stop, he took a moment to sit in the sagging driver’s seat, ignoring the spring pushing through the cheap vinyl to poke at his coccyx as he closed his sockets for just a moment.

There really wasn’t time for a rest. Papy was waiting on these flowers, likely working hard since this morning readying the baskets for Blue’s delivery. There were funerary floral arrangements to be made, birthday gifts, romantic gestures, and every one of them added desperately needed profits back into their coffers.

Rest would have to wait. Instead, Blue pawed through the glove box, past the yellowed owner’s manual and an odd collection of fast food napkins to find a granola bar in its depths. Tastelessly stale, the chocolate chips cast in a white haze and Blue ate it anyway, chewing without tasting. It would help revive his magic and he’d be able to paste on his sunniest smile for Papyrus when he got inside.

His little brother was working so terribly hard, so many long hours on his own. Blue’s soul was so tight with pride, it felt as if it were ready to explode and shower his Papy with it, even as he kept the underling guilt hidden away, tucked back where his brother wouldn’t have to deal with it.

This was his fault. Papy shouldn’t have to deal with the brunt of the stress. He’d abandoned his own faint hopes for college to help Blue with the business, worked hard without a fuss. He learned to make flower arrangements from bouquets to corsages, how to run the registers, how to smile and charm their customers into buying more than they intended. This was Blue’s dream, not his, but he’d thrown himself in entirely, and Blue didn’t want him to know about the bills rubberstamped in red ‘past due’ ink. He didn’t want Papy to worry about their dwindling savings.

The insurance money would help, quite a bit if the representative he spoke to yesterday was correct, and they only needed to last the few weeks until it came.

A little hard work hadn’t dusted him yet, Blue told himself as he got out of the van and retrieved the first heavy bucket of cut flowers; lilies, for the funeral arrangements. A few weeks more wasn’t going to do any harm.

When he got to the shop door, for a moment Blue didn’t understand why it wouldn’t push open. Then he realized the open sign was off, the door was locked tight. The shop was closed, on a Friday afternoon when all the lovesick swains got their paychecks and were ready to pick up flowers in hopes of a romantic weekend and they’d be purchasing their bouquets elsewhere because his shop was closed.

Later, Blue would be ashamed his first instinct was largely irritated; had his silly brother forgotten to leave the door open for customers, they did have some stock! But that was not for more than a startled second, long enough for him to see the broken mug scattered across the stoop.

He leaned down to pick up a shard of the plastic, absently noting the tremble in his hand. It had been his brother’s favorite travel mug, a silly thing he’d gotten it at the thrift shop, leftover from some Halloween or another. The skeletons that danced around it would dance no more, the piece Blue held had lost its legs, and he took very little comfort in the fact there was no dust on the broken pieces because there was a single splotch of redness, a near-perfect circle of dried marrow.

Someone had hurt his brother, Humans, perhaps the same ones from yesterday and how had he ever believed in his naiveté that Humans would welcome them to the surface with open arms.

“now thems some pretty flowers you got there.”

Startled, Blue turned towards that voice, ready to tell them with as much forced politeness as he could muster that they were currently closed, and would the police even come if he called them, would they even care, who else could he possibly—

Then he caught sight of who spoke, and his soul felt as if it froze right in his rib cage, icy fingers digging in and oh, his little brother was in far worse trouble than Blue could have ever guessed.

He’d never met the Fells, neither on the Surface or below it. The Underground was a big place and the madscrabble life they’d grown accustomed to in Ebott did not lend itself to making new acquaintances. Not that Blue frequented the sorts of places where one might meet the Fells. No, he’d never met them, but he knew them by reputation. Thugs, whispered along the gossip-line, loan sharks, racketeers, even murderers said the quietest rumors, though not for very long.

This one could only be the older brother, Red. He stood only a bit taller than Blue and nearly twice as broad, with little resemblance past the fact they were both skeleton Monsters. His teeth curved into a jagged, shark grin, unlike Blue’s blunted smile and his eye lights were the burning crimson of an ember. His dark expensive suit with its rich scarlet shirt boasted of handsewn silks, and the fingers holding his cigar were circled with gold rings whose stones were too garishly large to be anything but real. His other hand was tucked into his pocket, oddly threatening for its nonchalance. Flanking him were two large Dog monsters, white on white ties and shirts, and Blue was suddenly struck by the absurdity of it all.

His little flower shop along with his brother had somehow been transported into some ridiculous Godfather-esque alternate, only proved by Red exhaling a billowing cloud of smoke as he said, “but it looks t’me like you��ve got a lil’ trouble bloomin’. lose somethin’? or mebbe someone.”

Inappropriate laughter bubble up, choked away, and Blue heard himself say, “I suppose I did.”

Red nodded as if Blue had offered not a stream of wisdom, but an entire glistening fountain. He started pulling his hand out of his pocket and Blue tensed, angel-only knew what thoughts about guns or knives shooting through his mind. But that hand was empty and Red only plucked one of the lilies from the bucket, running a razor-tipped finger along the satiny petals.

“Are you here to help with that? My…my missing person?” Blue asked at last. Not that he wanted to, he didn’t, but his options were few, any choices dwindled away. There was no one else to ask and with every second that went by, the danger his brother was in could only be growing. This had something to do with yesterday, Blue was sure of it, and he couldn’t even imagine what sort of trouble his sweet, funny brother had gotten into to cause all this.

Rumor had it Red never broke his word, that he had a twisted way of keeping it, a monkey’s paw wish. But for his brother, Blue would have bargained with the devil incarnate.

He wondered if he was.

“could be,” Red said idly. He twirled the flower stem between his fingers. “you got quite the green thumb, dontcha.”

“Yes?” Blue agreed, warily. He’d heard that before when they’d first come to the Surface, and his refusal to grow drugs had been a costly one, losing him possible allies. He wondered dismally what conundrum he was about to be balanced on for his brother’s safety.

“hm.” Red gave the lily a considering sniff, “might have to see if we can drive your posy sales a lil’ better, after we get past this oopsie daisy.”

Blue didn’t know what that meant but he was sure he wouldn’t like it.

“tell ya what,” Red gave him a conspiratorial wink and a finger gun, as if they were close pals and not a known criminal chatting with a simple florist, “me and the neighborhood watchdogs here, we’ll take care of it. you hang tight and we’ll get your bro back to you.”

Blue didn’t ask how they knew it was his brother. He didn’t ask a thing. He simply crossed his arms over his chest and said, “No, I don’t think so. I’m coming with you.”

That earned him a deep frown, “baby blue, i think mebbe you didn’t hear me so good.”

“I heard you perfectly well,” Blue told him and didn’t bother with any astonishment over what this…this person might know or not know about him. Nicknames and whatnot were not important. Papy was. “And I don’t care. I’m coming with you and I’m staying until I see my brother.”

A low growl came from one of the Dogs, silenced instantly when Red held out a hand. Those jagged teeth curved into an unpleasantly wide grin, “you think so, eh. and if i say no?”

It was not particularly difficult to work up some tears, they’d been hovering thickly beneath the surface the moment Blue found that broken coffee mug. He let them loose now, wailing as loudly as he could, “How can you leave me like this!” Fat droplets rolled down his cheeks, huge sobs gasped out, “and with a baby on the way?”

Red froze, his cigar drooping in his teeth as his grin fell away so abruptly Blue half-expected it to shatter on the stoop with the remains of Papy’s coffee mug. All around them the people on the sidewalk who’d been previously been looking discreetly away were abruptly watching with avid interest, aghast and greedily outraged as Blue wept loudly, one hand pressed against his apron to his belly over their nonexistent child. A few people were shuffling their feet as if considering playing the hero, weighing their odds against a cruel wealthy ex-boyfriend and his friends casting aside a tiny pregnant clerk.

“get in the fucking car,” Red muttered. He tossed the lily on the ground, trodding on it as he turned to do the same. Blue tried not to see the mangled flower as a metaphor and followed, hopping through the open door that one of the Dogs closed firmly behind him.

He settled into the enormous leather seat, buckling his seatbelt to at least make it more difficult if Red decided it might well be easier to simply shove him out of the car on the next block.

Not that Red seemed to be considering it. He was rummaging through a small bar installed in the side door, pouring a finger’s worth of what was probably very expensive whiskey into a crystal glass, knocking it back in a single gulp. He poured another then settled back in his seat with it, crimson eye lights targeting Blue.

“you got some balls, kid,” he grumbled. It almost sounded grudgingly admiring but there wasn’t time to worry about that.

“Can you promise me you’ll get my brother back to me? Safe and sound,” Blue hastened to add.

“sure, toots. we’ll get your bro back in mostly one piece,” Red said. He grinned again, all jaggedly sharp teeth as Blue’s gorge rose, purring out, “nah, he’ll be all safe and sound. got someone on it right now, and not one of the usual mutts, neither. he’ll get your bro. meantime, we got some things we can discuss, you and me.”

Blue lifted his chin defiantly. He’d known what he was getting into. If there was a price to be paid for saving his brother, Blue would offer his own soul on a silver platter. But there was no reason for Papy to know. “I’m sure we do, so long as it’s a private discussion between us.”

Those crimson eye lights gleamed and Blue could very nearly hear the invisible chains of fate closing around him. “good boy. now, let’s talk about you, baby blue. how’s business?”

-fin

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[galaxystiel]

Under The Oak Tree (AO3)

Summary: Five times Castiel wept underneath the old oak tree, and one time he laughed. 4.1k

100 Ways To Say ‘I Love You’ #31: “Don’t worry about me.”

Also written for the Writers of Destiel ‘Writer’s Choice’ Bingo for the prompt ‘under the oak tree’.

Thanks to @fangirlingtodeath513 for being a fantastic beta!

1.

Beneath an old oak tree on the outskirts of town, Castiel wept into his hands, uncaring of the snot and blood that smeared across his face as he cried. He couldn’t go home yet, even though he knew his parents would be expecting him. If they saw the blood on his face, they’d know exactly what had happened.

If they found out he was being bullied again, they’d make him switch schools. For the second time. Castiel had started at the fancy private middle school across town, but he’d been miserable there. His friend Dean had gone to the local middle school—where Castiel was now enrolled—and he didn’t want to move someplace else. He wanted to stay with Dean.

Dean had been pretty good about protecting him from being pushed around so far, but he couldn’t be around all the time. Their schedules were too different to facilitate that. Castiel’s older brother, Gabriel, had moved with him too, but where Castiel was a social outcast, Gabriel was a social butterfly.

It was only a matter of time before Gabriel found out about the bullying and rained Hell down on them, but Castiel didn’t want that. Gabriel wouldn’t be able to fight his battles forever.

“You okay, Cas?”

Castiel jumped, his heart thudding in fright. He’d been so wrapped up in his tears that he hadn’t even heard the sound of his best friend arriving. Truth be told, Castiel hadn’t expected to be found here. He’d only stumbled upon this hill accidentally when the sidewalk had turned into grass and he’d lost track of where he was. 

“I’m fine,” he sniffed, taking the tissue that Dean held out to him and cleaning the worst of the blood from his face. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop it. Michael again?”

Castiel shrugged. “It’s fine. How did you find me?”

“I followed you from school. I tried to call out, but you didn’t hear me. I guess I was too far away.” Dean shifted awkwardly. “You should tell someone, you know.”

“That’ll just make it worse,” Castiel mumbled. “I can handle it.”

Dean shook his head, but Castiel knew he was just upset with the situation and how neither of them could think of a way to fix it. It wasn’t like he enjoyed being slammed face-first into his locker door every day.

“You want to come over to my place?” Dean asked, eventually. “My dad will help patch you up, then your mom will never know.”

Castiel nodded, brightening instantly at the invitation. He took Dean’s hand to pull himself up and didn’t let go immediately, taking an extra second of comfort before they ran down the hill to start the long walk home.

 2.

Castiel swiped quickly at his eyes as he heard footsteps approaching behind him. He knew who it was. Only one other person ever came out here—only one other person knew he came out here—and he’d already heard the rumbling sound of the Impala.

Dean sat down beside him, shrugging out of his leather jacket and draping it over Castiel’s shoulders. The warmth and familiar scent were a relief in the cool evening, and Castiel let more tears flow from his cheeks until there was nothing left to cry.

“Thanks,” he rasped finally, leaning back against the huge trunk of the oak tree.

This was his hiding spot, whenever Castiel needed to get away from things he would come here. Far on the outskirts of town, Castiel had found this little piece of paradise completely by accident. Atop a large hill, under the shade of a towering oak tree, Castiel had a perfect view of the luscious green fields dotted with wildflowers and red brick buildings of his hometown.

It was his sanctuary.

Only Dean knew of its existence, and he’d pinkie-swore to keep it a secret. He hadn’t even told Sam about this place. It was their secret, Dean’s and Castiel’s, and they’d commemorated that six months ago, etching their initials into the old bark with Dean’s penknife.

“Any time,” Dean said simply.

“How’d you even know I’d be here?” Castiel muttered.

Dean shrugged. “You didn’t answer my texts, so I stopped by your place. Gabriel told me your parents had been fighting with him again, and I guessed you’d be here.” He hesitated. “You want to talk about it?”

Castiel shook his head, feeling moisture threaten his eyes again but he was all cried out. He didn’t think he could talk about it, not even to his best friend. His parents taking their fury and bad moods out on his brother was too much to deal with right now. Gabriel was just about to finish up his senior year, and his GPA hadn’t quite met their parent’s standards.

Castiel, in his sophomore year, had a perfect GPA. His parents doted on him just as intensely as they excluded Gabriel. It strained the relationship between Castiel and his brother, but he did everything to fix it.

“You want me to go?” Dean asked softly.

Castiel shook his head again and shifted closer so his head tilted, resting on Dean’s shoulder. “Stay?”

“You know I will. As long as you need me to.”

Silence descended upon them, but neither of them felt obligated to break it. After years of friendship, they were used to companionable silences. They didn’t feel the need to force conversation. Just being in each other’s company was enough.

Dean being there for Castiel was enough.

 3.

“Mr. Novak, you absolutely cannot go in there!”

A ruckus in the hallway caught the attention of the entire senior AP Literature class and Castiel’s eyes widened when he heard the sound of his brother being addressed. He rose, intent on seeing what was going on, but it appeared Gabriel beat him to it.

The door to the classroom burst open and Gabriel strolled in. His usual trademark grin was gone, his expression solemn except for a slightly manic look in his eyes. He scanned the classroom, his gaze finding Castiel easily. His head jerked back towards the doorway, signalling for Castiel to follow him.

“Mr. Novak, you’re no longer a student here, you cannot just barge into a classroom!” Principal Adler shrieked, his pompous, smug face now apoplectic.

Gabriel barely spared him a glance. “Just did, big boy. You might want to come too,” he added, his eyes fixed on Dean. “He’ll need you.”

Castiel was already stalking towards his brother, and he heard rather than saw Dean get up and follow him. He felt a rush of affection for his best friend, even over all of the confusion and anxiety he was feeling. What was so urgent that Gabriel had just driven here and stormed into his classroom. Was it something to do with their parents?

Trying to quash the rising tide of panic that threatened to overwhelm him, Castiel ignored both his teacher and principal screaming at him that he would be suspended if he left the classroom. Instead, he just focused on following his brother out to the parking lot, having to almost run to keep up with Gabriel.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m leaving.” Gabriel told him, gesticulating wildly. “I can’t take it there anymore, Cassie. I can never do anything right, they hate me. I can’t do it anymore. I just came to say goodbye.”

Castiel blinked in confusion, and then he registered Gabriel’s meaning. “Gabriel, what happened? You—you can’t just leave. They don’t hate you—"

Gabriel let out a scornful laugh, harsh and broken. “Yes, they do. I’m the black sheep of the family. You’re the only son they’re proud of.”

They reached his car and Castiel stood in front of the driver’s seat, blocking Gabriel from getting inside. Even from here, he could see all of Gabriel’s belongings scattered in the back seat and overflowing from the trunk. He wasn’t kidding around.

“Don’t go,” Castiel pleaded, his voice breaking. “Please don’t go. You’re my brother, I need you.”

“You’ll always have me,” Gabriel promised, a hitch in his own voice. “I just… need to be on my own for a while. I just have to get out of here. I would have gone years ago if it wasn’t for you. I tried so hard to stay until you went to college, but I can’t do it. Every day I’m around them, a little more of me dies. I have to leave.”

Castiel’s lip trembled and he threw his arms around his brother. “Where will you go?” he whispered.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll call you as soon as I’m settled. Six months. Maybe a year, tops.” Gabriel nudged Castiel to one side, easing him out of his way so he could get into his car. He pulled back from the embrace. “You take care of yourself, you hear me?”

Stunned, unable to believe this was really happening, Castiel could do little more than nod. He stared at Gabriel the entire time he was in sight, watching the car drive away until it rounded the corner and was gone. Castiel didn’t truly know how to react in that moment. His chest felt hollow, lost, his attempts at breathing didn’t seem to fill his lungs with enough oxygen.

Castiel was distantly aware of an arm wrapping around him, leading him further into the parking lot. “M—my car,” he began, and stopped quickly. Was that stammering sound coming from him?

“We can pick it up later,” Dean soothed. “Come on.”

From that point on, everything was a blur. He was sure Dean spoke to him, but he couldn’t remember anything up until the point where Dean pulled up at the bottom the hill, the towering oak tree a familiar sight above him. It felt like only seconds had passed. Castiel sank down in the grass at its base, staring down into his lap.

“You’ll get in trouble at school for ditching with me.”

“Cas,” Dean sighed, winding an arm around him. “Don’t worry about me. You just had a big shock, you know? You should process that.”

Castiel nodded, tiredly. “I will. I just don’t really know how to right now.”

Dean didn’t say anything, which Castiel was grateful for. He didn’t want to talk yet. He just wanted time to make sense of everything that had happened. Castiel had no concept of how much time passed up there on that hill. He just felt Dean’s presence and clung to the support offered to him as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky.

He knew Dean should be at home by now. That he’d no doubt be missing family commitments or spending time with Sam, but if Dean even thought about it, he never said a thing. Didn’t even make an attempt to move, or leave Castiel to it.

“He was right, you know. Gabriel, I mean.”

Castiel could feel Dean’s eyes on him as he eventually broke the silence. “About the way they treated him.” It wasn’t a question.

Castiel nodded. “Nothing he did was ever good enough. They called him a disappointment. They were ashamed to have him as their son. Why wasn’t he more like me? What he endured… I can’t imagine how hard it must have been. I’m surprised it took him this long to leave.”

“He stayed for you,” Dean said simply. “He loves you and he didn’t want you to think he resented you.”

“He’s my brother.” The tears came all at once, unbidden. Castiel couldn’t stop them if he tried and he didn’t even have the strength to attempt it. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. How I’m supposed to forgive my parents when they drove him away.”

Dean pulled him into a fierce hug. “You will. And if you don’t, that’s okay too. You can’t help how you feel, Cas. And I’m here for you no matter what.”

Castiel sobbed into Dean’s shoulder. Despite the pain, the loss, the frustration, Dean’s presence helped. Just knowing that he had someone he would always be able to rely on sewed the initial sutures into Castiel’s broken heart.

 4.

The evening was cold, like the chill that had settled in Castiel’s stomach as he climbed the hill. When Dean had called and asked to meet him here, instead of either of their homes, he knew something had to be wrong. The second phone call had confirmed it.

They were jetting off to college in two days time, both of them accepted into Georgetown—Dean being pre-med, and Castiel being pre-law.

It was the beginning of the rest of their lives.

Castiel stood in the shade of the oak tree, squinting in the darkness. “Dean?” he called out. “Are you here?”

No words greeted him, but there was the sound of a stifled sob that answered his question.

Castiel approached the trunk of the towering oak tree and peered around the side. Dean was sitting on the floor, his back against one of the lifted roots. Silent sobs were shaking his shoulders.

Dropping to his knees, Castiel pulled Dean into a hug. Fear tendrils spread across his insides, pushing the chill through his body. He’d never seen Dean cry before, not once in all of their years of friendship. He didn’t ask what was wrong, knowing Dean would talk in his own time. Castiel didn’t even tell Dean that he already knew, that Sam had told him, just saved the words for when Dean was able to speak.

He might not have seen Dean cry before, but Castiel had seen him upset, and he knew Dean had problems with talking when he was grieving.

After his mom had died, Dean hadn’t said a word. Castiel had a vague memory of their teacher in kindergarten saying something about him working through his feelings. Lots of Dean’s former friends had abandoned him, too young to understand his grief. Castiel, at least according to his parents, had toddled up to Dean with some paper and crayons and chatted enough for both of them. They’d been inseparable ever since.

Now, Dean had another parent to grieve, and the complicated relationship they’d had meant Dean was no doubt feeling a veritable cocktail of emotions.  

“Dad died,” Dean pulled back, swiping his hands over his face. He couldn’t look Castiel in the eye.

“I know,” Castiel whispered, carding his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Sam called me. Who’s looking after him now?”

“Missouri. She’s… she’s helping make all the arrangements and stuff.” Dean fell silent.

Castiel didn’t know what to say. His own eyes grew wet, his best friend’s anguish settling over him like a blanket of emotion. “I’m sorry, Dean. You know if there’s anything I can do, you just have to ask, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

They lapsed into silence again and Castiel continued to stroke Dean’s hair, hoping to convey any comfort he could through touch alone.

“I have to look after Sam now,” Dean broke the silence eventually, staring off into the distance. “Dad didn’t have a lot of money to leave us. I won’t be able to come with you to Georgetown, Cas.”

Castiel’s stomach lurched. He pushed away the feeling of horror, guiltily. This was about Dean. “There’ll be some sort of scholarship or financial help you can get for having a dependent—”

Dean shook his head. “I thought about that already. I can’t uproot Sam from his life, not when he already lost my dad. He has friends here, he’ll need them. I gotta think about Sam. Maybe college is something I can look at in the future. I… I guess it just sucks that it’s not something I get to experience with you.”

“Then I’ll stay too,” Castiel told him gently. “And apply to KCU. We might not be there together, but I’ll still get to see you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Dean sniffled. “All I want is for you to be happy.”

Castiel’s hand slipped from Dean’s hair and he touched his cheek, feeling a tear slip down his own cheek against his best efforts. “Dean, you’re the only person in my life that has always been by my side. What makes you think I could be happy without you?”

The profound nature of the words echoed around them in the silence, crackling with energy. For the first time since Castiel had arrived, their eyes met, charged with a tension that had always hung between them. They were teetering on the precipice of something huge, something that would change and define them.

But this was not the moment for that.

Castiel let his hand slip away and he looked down at the town. In the darkness it was almost impossible to see, but for the lights. Signs of families settling into their nightly routines.

Dean’s head tilted down and rested on Castiel’s shoulder, a flare of warmth in the cold, cruel world they lived in.

 5.

Castiel dried his eyes angrily, stalking back and forth in front of the oak tree and trying desperately to find the rationality that he clung to most of his life. But in this moment, it seemed to have deserted him, leaving him twisted and overcome with petty jealousy.

He knew he was out of line, acting this way. Dean had never made him any promises. They’d never even talked about the feelings that had been lingering between them since their last year of high school.

Technically, Dean was free to pursue someone else if he wanted to.

Castiel had just never expected him to. It had been more than a year since John Winchester had passed away. The moment that had burned between Dean and Castiel on this very hill was still fresh in Castiel’s mind, as if it had happened only yesterday. It was the closest either of them had ever come to acting on it, but Castiel had never dreamed that Dean’s feelings may have changed.

But everything had changed since then. Castiel had other friends, college friends. Dean had started working at Bobby Singer’s autoshop to pay the bills and had his own circle of friends too. Naturally, it hadn’t affected their friendship at all. Castiel had still carved out the majority of his social time for Dean. He’d naively thought Dean had done the same thing for him. He’d barely mentioned his work friends.

He’d never mentioned her.

She wasn’t even that pretty, Castiel thought bitterly, although he couldn’t deny her pale complexion and cropped red hair were a striking combination. He just hadn’t thought she was Dean’s type at all.

The roar of the Impala’s engines caught Castiel’s attention and he floundered. After he’d run out of Dean’s place, terrible excuses about a prior engagement on his tongue, he hadn’t expected to be followed. But it was clear that Dean hadn’t been fooled by his lame mutterings at all. Not that Castiel had expected him to be.

Oh God.

Panic gripped him as he fumbled for any reason at all why he’d felt the need to run out of Dean’s birthday party. Anything that would stop Dean from hating him forever.

Castiel looked up, dumbly, as Dean cleared his throat. He opened his mouth and closed it again, swallowing audibly. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Dean leaned against the tree, fixing him with an almost-amused look. “You finish your prior engagement?”

Castiel felt a flare of anger. Was Dean finding this funny? He straightened up. “You—,” he began heatedly.

“I only ask,” Dean cut him off, talking loudly. “Because you rushed out of there because I could introduce you to my friend, Charlie. Her girlfriend couldn’t make it today.”

Castiel blinked, owlishly. “Her—?"

“Girlfriend,” Dean supplied helpfully. “You know. Lesbians,” he pronounced the last word slowly, significantly.

Dean was giving him an out, a way to save face. By addressing Castiel’s issue without actually addressing it, he was giving them a means to avoid the long overdue conversation they’d yet to have. As everything clicked into place, Castiel felt smaller than an ant. The redhead was a lesbian. She wasn’t Dean’s girlfriend. Dean wasn’t interested in her.

He wasn’t sure what to say. “Oh. I see.”

“Yeah.” Dean shrugged. “You ready to come back with me so I can introduce you properly?”

Castiel stepped forward, his legs shaky. “Not yet.”

Frustration flitted over Dean’s face and he sighed. “Cas—”

“Wait,” Castiel interrupted. “Please, just thirty seconds. I just… I want to give you your birthday present before we go back.”

Dean’s expression cleared and he looked mildly interested, even excited. His eyes darted around, looking for something that Castiel might have hidden.

Castiel took the opportunity to close the distance between them in a single stride, capturing Dean’s lips in a tentative first kiss. It wasn’t exactly the gift he’d planned to give Dean that morning, but his heart had always truly belonged to Dean and it was more than time that he made that abundantly clear.

Even though he had to have been taken by surprise, Dean caught on quickly, responding to the light kiss. His lips were coaxing against Castiel’s, igniting a low flame and extinguishing it into a thousand butterflies of steam all at once. His hand snaked around Castiel’s waist, pulling them flush together even as their lips parted.

“Happy birthday to me,” Dean smiled, pressing their foreheads together. “Would it be too much of me to ask for a second gift?”

Castiel laughed breathlessly in response, pulling Dean in for a second kiss, and a third, and a fourth, until he lost count entirely.

 +1.

The sun shone down on the old oak tree, thin beams of light streaming down between its leaves and illuminating the ground below.

Castiel brushed his fingers along the bark until they reached the familiar etchings. His initials and Dean’s, carved almost ten years ago now. While Castiel regretted their secret act of vandalism, damaging the beauty of the magnificent oak, there was something profound and warming about the eternity of their story. Their initials would still be here long after they were gone.

“I’m getting too old to climb this hill,” Dean grumbled, trying to catch his breath. “We need a clandestine meeting place at ground level.

Castiel tilted his head back and laughed. “You’re not even thirty, Dean. Besides, this isn’t a clandestine meeting place anymore. We’ve got thirty guests and a minister arriving in a couple of hours to set things up.”

He turned to see Dean in his tuxedo, looking uncharacteristically nervous. His tie was all askew, no doubt from where he’d been tugging on it all morning. Castiel sighed in mock-exasperation and reached out to fix it for him.

“I thought it was unlucky for you to see me before the service,” Dean mumbled.

“Neither of us is in a dress,” Castiel pointed out wryly.

“Unfortunately for our guests. I’ll have you know I look fantastic in a gown.”

Castiel laughed again and pecked Dean on the lips. “I’m sure you do. But I much prefer you like this, in a dashing suit. What time is Sam getting here?”

“Any time now. What about Gabriel?”

Castiel checked his watch. “In about an hour. How are you feeling?”

“Me? Fine…” Dean paused, narrowing his eyes at Castiel. “Are you asking if I have cold feet?”

“Well, do you?” Castiel asked, hesitantly. “This is your last chance. If you run away after Gabriel gets here, he might shoot you.”

Dean smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. You?”

Castiel shook his head, returning the smile. “My feet are toasty warm.”

“Lies. They were pressed against me all night and they were anything but toasty. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you refrigerate them before coming to bed.”

Castiel laughed again and took Dean’s hand in his own. In a matter of hours, they’d be married, ready to start the rest of their lives together. It was only fitting that they have the ceremony here, a place that had seen them through so many times of sadness, but also joy.

 “What are you thinking?” Dean asked, curiously. “You’ve got that look on your face like you’re thinking of something sappy and poetic.”

Dean knew him so well. Castiel glanced over at his soon-to-be husband, his eyes filled with love and happiness. “I was just thinking that I can’t wait to marry you.”

He cut off Dean’s attempt at reciprocating the sentiment with a kiss, that was soon followed by the kiss that marked the beginning of the rest of their lives.

And it all happened beneath the old oak tree.

Masterpost

[meatclowntv]

Fallout 4 OC BIO

Desmond

Tw: Mentions Animal violence, a bit of gore, blood, mentions of bulling, mentions of abuse, Mentions of suicide,

Basic Info:

Birth Name: Desmond

Gender: Male

Age(Before the war): 27

Race: Caucasian Human

Sexuality: Pansexual

Religion: N/A

Appearance:

Hair: Originally Pale White due to him being albino, however sometimes(especially when he was younger) dyes his hair black to fit in with a crowd.

Skin Tone: Pale White, this is also due to him being albino...

Eye Color: Red

Scars: Has had a lot of physical scars but most of them have already healed or aren’t than notable but, he does like to stitch his neck for cosmetic reasons to I guess that could count

Height: 5’5

Weight: 119 Ibs

(Current)SPECIAL:

Strength: 4

Perception: 2

Endurance: 9

Charisma: 10

Agility: 6

Luck: 2

Top 5 Favorite Perks:

Cannibal

Big Leagues

Sneak

Intimidation

Bloody Mess

Likes:

His (dead) wife(He doesn’t just like his wife but his wife is one and probably is his favorite person in the whole world and was the only reason he lived for awhile..) Melee Weapons, Meat(sense it’s one of the only things he like to eat), Dogs, The Institute mostly because of his son.

Dislikes:

The BOS, The Railroad, Anything that tastes too sweet, Guns(He just doesn’t like using them in a fight), The Sun due to his skin being sensitive to the sun, Not feeling in control, Showing “unwanted emotions”.

Combat Style:

Style 1:

He Likes to sneak from behind while they aren’t looking and stab them with a knife(preferably the Sacrificial Blade or Pickmans Blade) while they aren’t looking

Style 2:

If Style 1 doesn’t work, he’ll attempt to kill them with absolute brute force and a knife by slicing them or bashing them in the head with a Swatter as much as they can. He doesn’t mind this option though.

Style 3:

If all else fails he’ll basically take a hit of psycho and beat the ever loving life out of the opponent in any way they can, if that means using a Fat Man, so be it. This isn’t his favorite way of fighting, but this will have to do for him.

Strengths:

Creative, Decisive, Determined, Passionate, Slow to Anger, Subtle, Skillful, Sociable

Flaws:

Extremely Private, Perfectionist, Always needs to have a cause, Can burn out easily, Somewhat sensitive, Manipulative, Cryptic, Ruthless, Slightly has a lack of emotions

Backstory:

Сhildhood:

Desmond’s Child hood was absolute hell to be completely honest with you, that’s how he viewed it at least, one overly sensitive and abusive father who always had a gun when he slept, a mother who neglected him every moment unless he was in trouble, his Older brother named Michael, who Desmond viewed as a coward, a pathetic coward that never helped him, and lastly Michael’s dog Rex. He looked so much different from the rest of his family due to him being albino and everyone else being blonde or brunette.. He was bullied somewhat but not a lot. No one really payed any attention to him and viewed him as that one kid who doesn’t like to talk, and that was the case. But he started to grow violent because of the constant neglect and abuse he’d endure when he was at home, this led to taking his violent needs out on small animals like squirrels and insects. One day however, when he was on the swing set of his elementary schools playground, crying, a girl sat next to him and asked him if he was okay. Desmond has never met such a beautiful person before. That’s when their relationship started to flourish. He found out her name was Nora, a blind girl who lived in the rich house down the street. She loved to listen to music. Desmond would alway help her if she needed any help getting around the elementary school or if she needed anything. This would continue onward and even their adult years.

Teen Years:

His Teen years we’re probably his worst yet best years of his life. Unlike his childhood years, his teen years had a lot of good in them to out way the bad parts. When he was in Middle school he was bullied quite more than in elementary school, he was beaten by his peers sometimes and locked in his very own locker, but to everyone’s surprise, he’d still keep that stupid yet creepy smile on his face even when he was bullied at school and harassed at home, this changed when his brother Michael and his “friends” (who are in high school) harassed Nora and pushed her around, but Desmond saw it all, and went to go help her as soon as he could. She told him about how they grab at her and called her horrible names that she didn’t want to say aloud, she stared to weep but Desmond held her tight and told her this wouldn’t happen again. This gave him a sickening plan... In the morning, two days after the incident, Michael woke up to see his dad was off to work as well as his mother, but Rex was no where to be found, he looked everywhere to find no trace of him, until he found his collar on the end of his bed side table, that’s when the stench began to grow from his old play toat that used to be filled toys. He hesitantly opens in, and to his absolute horror, the toat that was once filled with toys, was now filled with the rotting carcass of his beloved dog Rex.. He screamed in frightened horror and shock and that’s when Desmond walked in with that shit eating smile, Michael looked at him and the only thing that could come out of his lips we’re, “did..did you-?”. He pointed at his dog. Desmond responded with a yes and walked away. His parents soon found out and called the cops, but the cops didn’t have any evidence to point it to Desmond, this was because He already got rid of the evidence a long time ago. He got his revenge. This was, however, only one of many of his murders. In high school, Desmond started to dye his hair black to fit in with the others, this is also when Nora and him started getting in to a romantic relationship. This didn’t change the fact he still had his violent tendencies that grew in the passing days, he kept them under wrap sense he didn’t want the only person he truly cared about to leave him. He was liked at school and was some what respected by his peers for not being afraid to tell off a teacher or beat the snot some big jock who didn’t know when to shut up. He was the smartest person in the world and he would get in trouble from time to time, but besides that he was an average student to most of the teachers. In senior year he wanted to celebrate in the biggest way possible, he proposed to Nora when he was signing up to go to the military in which Nora started to cry happily as she nodded in pure excitement. They held each other for awhile. Now for his final step. He planned this for weeks, months and even years! And he finally got it set up, for the grand finale of his fathers life. It was late at night, his mother was out doing something with her gal pals, while her husband was tied to the bed by his most hated son. He successfully drugged his fathers alcohol. His father was stricken in fear, while Desmond started to laugh at him, reminding him in excruciating detail of how much he hurt Desmond, how much he suffered throughout his entire childhood and became “violent” in the process and telling him that this was all his fault he was in this position. His father yelled at him and told Desmond to shut up and to untie him before he’d kill Desmond, in turn, Desmond grabs the pistol from his dads side table in the room and shot him repeatedly in the head until he finally died. He got rid of the evidence, called the police and got the scene all set up. In the end, the police couldn’t blame Desmond for the crime, and blamed it on a drunken suicide attempt the ultimatly succeeded. His mother wept and cried saying it was all Desmond but the cops repeatedly said it couldn’t have been him. Desmond moved out shortly after to live with his future wife Nora in her house while he got ready to go join the military.

Adult Years:

In his adult years Desmond became married to Nora and a soldier in the war, while his wife was doing her job while pregnant with Shaun, his part took awhile to get done with and it got all of the violent feelings out of him, he went back home when he was aloud to and he was ecstatic to find out she was okay and Shaun was to. After Nora gave Birth two days after he felt so over joyed and cried happy tears for the first time in his life. He took really good care of them and did whatever he could to make them happy. He was finally just absolutely happy for the first time in his life with a family he can finally call his own. That all changed when the bombs fell.. He quickly grabbed Nora and Shaun and ran to the vault, not caring about anyone else but them. He couldn’t lose any of them. He just couldn’t. However they made it inside of the vault, he held Nora tightly in his arms like his life depended on it. Nora told him she was okay and told him not to worry, it wasn’t like she was going anywhere anytime soon. They soon grabbed their vault suits and headed to the cryochambers, he gave Shaun and Nora a goodbye hug and hoped that he would be able to see them soon once he was let out of his Cryo Chamber. He did, yes, but not in the way he wanted... As his Cryo Chamber thawed out, he witnessed this strange man start to take his son away, Desmond started banging on the Cryo Chamber he was stuck in, Nora struggled to let Shaun go, but in the end, the man put a bullet in her head. Desmond screamed in agony and started to punch the Cryo Chamber harder, and harder. But then he was frozen again. Once he was let out, not knowing or caring how long it’s been, he rushes to Noras Cryo Chamber and rapidly presses the button, she falls limp onto the floor. He immediately falls to the ground and hold her tightly not wanting to let go, not wanting to believe she was actually dead, the first and only person who gave him happiness who always longed for, gone, dead, he hesitantly let’s go of her, taking the ring off her finger, he kisses her goodbye and promises her he’ll find Shaun, he WILL find Shaun. He clutches the ring growing angry. Not looking back, he walks off to start his rampage across the Commonwealth, and no one will get in his way.

[vampwrrrmistresslist]

Sweet Lies 2

A/N:  This is the second chapter of a series that is in progress, the links for which are on my mistresslist.  This work is 18+.  

You lived life cautiously. Yes, you ran alone in the dark, but you weren’t entirely without defenses.  Snapping your knees to your chest, you kicked them toward the ground, pulling him off balance with the full weight of every suddenly precious pound. In direct contrast to the seriousness of the situation, a scene from your university days flashed through your mind–

You were visiting your best friend, and reading the quotations on the bricks dedicated to the school by members of the senior class when one caught your eye.  “Fat people are harder to kidnap?!”  “Shut up! It doesn’t say that!” she laughed.  You pulled her over and pointed.  To this day, it was an inside joke between you two, whenever you overindulged. “Just eat the cake, love.  Fat people are harder to kidnap.”

Your attacker was tall, but whipcord thin, so the sudden concentration of your weight was enough to make him fall over as you rolled away.  He was scrambling toward you as you came back up, and your lips pulled back from your teeth in a snarl.  Pissed didn’t even begin to describe how you felt.  Always taught to be quiet, to be ladylike, to not raise your voice, only to gain nothing from a lifetime of obedience but the empty approval of older family members, “Oh, she’s so filial!  Look at how well she takes care of her father!” they trilled, right before they wandered right back to their fulfilling lives with families, children, vacations, and actual careers.  The dry, whispery voice that told you uncomfortable truths in quiet moments, slithered through your mind, telling you that, if you were to be completely honest with yourself…you had hoped for this.  You were so frustrated, so pent up, that that unsavoury part of you that came out in the dark had yearned for just one small opportunity to vent your spleen with no consequences.

He tackled you flat onto your back.  Which was…right where you wanted to be.  As he tried to wrap his arms around your hips, so that he could throw you over his shoulder, you reached into your leather hip bag, which held your phone, your keys…and your taser.  You lived life cautiously, and you had already prepared for this joyous occasion.  You jammed it into his belly, the metal prongs sliding easily through his black tee to the skin beneath.  He stiffened, jerking uncontrollably, and you planted your foot in his belly, kicking him off of you.  Climbing on his chest you wrapped your legs around his arms, trapping him as you jammed the taser into the side of his neck, gutturally growling your frustration into his twitching face.  

Absorbed by what you were doing, you didn’t hear the footsteps running toward you until it was almost too late.  You turned around to see a second man reaching out for you, and your heart thumped painfully in your chest, as you quickly recalculated your odds of escaping.  You leapt off of your first attacker to round, crouching, on your second, but you had taken too long to notice him, and he was too fast.  He backhanded you to the ground, your taser went flying, and it felt like your eye was going to explode.  You felt warmth trickle down your cheek.  You tried to quickly push yourself off of the ground, but your ears were ringing, your arms were shaking, and everything was spinning.  He grabbed you by your ankles, and started to drag you back toward the van.

Your hands clawed at the cobblestones of the path, trying to find anything to use as a weapon.  You pried up one of the loose cobblestones, and prepared to turn when you heard a dull, sickening crack.  A third man had come from nowhere, but instead of attacking you, he had kicked the second man in the neck, felling him.  The third man stood between you and the second, his shoulders wide, arms held loosely at his sides.  As the second man began to rise, the third turned slightly toward you, his profile illuminated by the park’s gas lamps.  Seemingly assured that the man behind him was down for the count, and that you were relatively okay, he turned back to the second man, delivering what looked like a pile driver kick while the second man was still on his knees.  The second man wouldn’t stay down, rolling over onto his side to try to rise, when the third man lifted his leg high, and brought down his heel on the second man’s jaw.  If you thought that that first crack had sounded sickening, it didn’t even compare to the sound that rang through the night when the second man’s jaw was broken. To your relief, however, with that kick, the second man was knocked unconscious.  

The third man observed the second for a long while, until it was obvious that he would not be rising again, anytime soon.  You watched warily as he slowly turned to the man that you had felled, checking him one more time before looking at you, still at his feet.  With the light behind him, you couldn’t see his face, but you sensed that he was examining you.  He started toward you, and you thumped back on your bottom, as you scrambled to replace the distance between the two of you.  Untrained men you felt confident to handle, but you recognized that if this man wanted to overpower you, you wouldn’t have much of a chance.  He stopped, hands up.  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, almost as if he had read your mind.  You stopped, one leg beneath you, the other stretched toward him.  He leisurely crouched in front of you, and the light reflecting off the water slowly illuminated his features as he drew closer to your level.  

He had intense, darkly glittering eyes set in a gentle Botticelli face, with a soft mouth that looked made for sweet, innocent kisses.  Slowly reaching for your ankle, he wrapped long fingers around it, whispering, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”  

You took a minute to search his liquid dark eyes, but there was no threat.  You told him softly, matching your tone to his intimate whisper, without really knowing why.  

“I’ve called the police,” he said, slowly stroking your ankle with his thumb. Just as he said it, you heard sirens, and saw flashing lights on the road perpendicular to where you were, heading your way.  The man rose suddenly, and pushed you on your back.  Shocked, you started back up, but he held a finger to his mouth, saying, “Stay down!”  Turning, he held up his hands as the police turned onto the street.  Two officers leapt out of the car, eyes sweeping the scene, hands on their guns, at their belts.  “I’m the one who called you,” he said calmly.  “This woman has been attacked.”

The officers approached cautiously.  One was a woman with her weapon drawn, pointed toward the ground, who swept the area with her gaze, and behind, a man who surveyed the scene, and then crouched next to you, helping you sit up.  “Ma’am, are you okay?” he queried, eyeing the two men on the ground.  Without missing a beat, you burst into tears, wrapping your arms around his neck, and sobbing incoherently.  Looking up, your eyes met those of your dark rescuer, and for a second, you shared a look.  After a moment, you pulled back, pointing at the man who had saved you, crying, “He came and saved me!  If he hadn’t have been here, I—I—I”.  With that pronouncement, you covered your face with your hands, and wept disconsolately. The female officer replaced her gun, telling the man that he could put down his hands, while she walked back to the car to send an update over the radio. A few minutes later, a few ambulances arrived, and EMTs bundled both of the unconscious men inside, though the officers handcuffed them to the beds. The last ambulance was for you, and you sat inside while a patient, middle-aged EMT gently tended to the wound on your face.  Apparently, the man who hit you had been wearing brass knuckles, and it was a miracle that your cheekbone hadn’t been broken.  No, you were just left with livid bruising hugging your face from above your eyebrow to the hollow beneath your cheek, some swelling, and a relatively small laceration.  

The officers took both of your statements, told you that they would probably contact you both to follow-up, and then left with the unconscious men, ready to take them to jail as soon as they were released by the doctors.  You refused a ride to the hospital, so your ambulance also trundled off, after your EMT gave you a final once-over, and a fatherly smile.  Then it was just you, and he, your black-haired guardian.   By now, the sun was well and truly over the horizon, and you could see each other clearly.  He was slender, wearing a loose black tee shirt, plaid pajama bottoms, and sneakers, and his hair was all over his head, some falling into his eyes, some poking up stiffly here and there.  

You smiled at him. “You saved my life.”  Gesturing toward his pants, “Were you sleeping, when…”

He cleared his throat. “I heard your taser.  That thing is pretty loud.  I live right here,” he said, pointing in the direction of the town-homes.

“Lucky me,” you said, looking down.  “Where is that thing, anyway?” you wondered aloud.  Looking over the scene, you both saw that it was nowhere in sight.  You gave a long suffering sigh.  “I guess it fell into the bay.”  He nodded.  “Well…I should probably,” you gestured vaguely, and trailed off again.

“May I walk you home?” he queried softly.

You paused, considering. Given what he had done to that man, he was obviously dangerous, but…he had done it to protect you.  You had lived life cautiously, and look where it had gotten you.  Absolutely nowhere.  Making up your mind, you nodded, turning back into the park, and starting slowly down the path.  You sensed him behind you, his presence comforting, and then he was beside you. Neither of you said anything on the walk back.  You were in your own head, probing the events of the morning like a sore tooth, trying to figure out what you could have done differently.  You were angry that from now on you would be second-guessing every shadow, jumping at every noise, every time you ran.  You shook your head in frustration, deciding that you were going to have to bite the bullet, and start running at the local community center, which you despised.  No breeze, broken A/C, nothing new or interesting to distract you from the pain in your lungs, overly loud televisions on uninteresting channels, smelly gym rats who wore the same clothes until they could climb out of their gym bags and walk on their own, stupid men having idiotic conversations at the tops of their lungs…  You shook your head again.  Screw it, you would just go to the gym until you could buy another taser.  And a baton.  You refused to change your life because of the stupidity of others.  That way lay madness, and agoraphobia.  You realized that you both had stopped, and looked around, realizing that you were home.  “Oh,” you said, wittily.  “Home.”

He just nodded, then lifted your chin with his thumb and forefinger.  Startled, you instinctively wrapped your fingers around his wrist, to pull him away, when you saw him examining your bruises.  Your hand relaxed, but stayed around his wrist as he turned your face so that he could better see your injuries, a hard expression in his eyes. Your eyes met, and you felt your entire body flush.  His eyes were whipped milk chocolate, with ripples of black, and his pupils, which had shrunk to pinpoints while he was looking at your wound, dilated like flowers opening under the sun.  You hadn’t been this physically close to a man unrelated to you since you graduated, and a wave of searing heat flashed through you, leaving your skin feeling as if you were being sunburned from the inside out.  You swallowed involuntarily, and then forced yourself to step back, looking down at the ground, away from those magnetic eyes.  “I have to go,” you murmured, looking back at him, forcing yourself back into control.  He nodded again, looking up at your duplex.  “I guess I’ll see you around?”  Something secretive and dark flashed in his eyes, before he smiled beatifically, causing you to immediately doubt what you thought you saw.

He watched you trudge up the porch, and slowly unlock the door.  You knew that you had to go, but you didn’t want to leave his steady, strong, comforting presence.   Steeling yourself, you gave him one final wave, and then entered your apartment, and shut the door, leaning heavily against it with a heartrending sigh.  Suddenly, a thought occurred to you, and you wrenched open the door, and ran outside���only to find him still there, looking right back at you.  Awkward.  “Um,” you started, clever as usual.  “I…never…I don’t…” you cleared your throat, and started again.  “What’s your name?”

Another angelic smile lit up his face.

“Byun Baekhyun.”

***

“The bodies of two men involved in an alleged assault in Miller’s Park were found brutalized…”  

Your head whipped toward the sound of the television, and you left the kitchen where you were preparing dinner to stand beside your father as he listened to the evening news. Reaching for the remote, he asked, “Is this disturbing you?”

“No, it’s fine, I want to hear this.”  You had never told him what had happened, and since he couldn’t see, it was easy enough to keep your secret.   You reoriented your attention to the news report.  

“…thought to be the work of the Reaper…”

You sat heavily on the arm of your father’s recliner.  The Reaper had been stalking your city since you could remember.  If you thought back, he had been active since you were a freshman in university.  To date, he had only ever killed murderers, rapists, and molesters, so to be honest, the city at large wasn’t particularly that alarmed by his activities.  Some even took pride in the sleepy little town having its own serial killer, thinking that it added a bit of local colour, like Blackbeard.  One day, at a business dinner, your boss declared, “In a hundred years, we’ll be having a Reaper festival, you mark my words!”

You had snorted. “Well, Ken, in a hundred years, I won’t be around to mark what you say, so that’s a pretty safe bet, isn’t it?”

You were conflicted. On one hand, you were glad that you would no longer have to worry about the two men who almost kidnapped you, in the hopes of doing only goodness knows.  On the other hand, you were disturbed by…how little you were disturbed. Two men were dead and, according to the news report, had been beaten so badly that they had to be identified by their fingerprints, and all you could feel was relief that you could breathe just a little bit easier.   Shaking your head to stop the dark thoughts, you returned to the kitchen to finish dinner.

***

Some days later, you were making your weekly grocery store run when you ran into Baekhyun again. Almost literally.  You two turned simultaneously out of parallel aisles, and you almost crashed into his cart.  Backpedaling, you looked up to apologize, when you saw that it was him. “Oh.  Oh!”

He leaned over the handle of his cart and grinned at you.  “This is the first time that we see each other in weeks, and you try to run over me?  Well…that’s just rude.”

You grinned back. “I’m sorry, I was…in my own head. I kind of live there.”

He tilted his head. “What’s it like?”

“Oh, it depends on my mood. Sometimes grey.  Sometimes black.  Sometimes live and in technicolour.”

“Right now?”

You smiled mysteriously. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head over that.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

You laughed.  “You know you are.”

He did a little shoulder dance.  “Well…that’s true.”

A lull in the conversation. “Well,” you started, “I should let you go..”  

You moved around him to head up the aisle he just vacated when he grabbed your wrist.  “Wait.”  A soft command, but in the tone of a command all the same.  You raised your eyebrow, and looked down at his hand on your wrist, which he immediately retracted.  “I’m…I’m sorry.  I didn’t think.”

He looked so chastened that your heart melted.  “What is it?”

He gestured to his empty cart.  “I’m actually here to shop for ingredients for a work potluck thing, and…I have no idea what I’m doing.”  

“What are you going to make?”

He looked caught. “I..don’t…know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then…how can you shop for ingredients?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m confused.”

“So am I.”

You held up a hand. “Let’s start over.  What do you want to make?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe a stew?  A cake?  Roast beast?”

“Those are three wildly disparate things.”

“I know.”

“So…why don’t you narrow down the type of dish that you want to make, and then just google the ingredients?”

He blew out a breath that made his bangs dance.  “I can’t choose.  Choose for me.”

“Ch—choose for you?” He nodded.  You cleared your throat.  “Okay…what do you like to cook?”  He stared blankly at you.  Your expression faltered.  “You don’t…cook?”  He shook his head.  “How do you live?”

“One of those dinner delivery boxes where all you have to do is insert tab B into slot A.”

“Well, that’s cooking! Kind of.”

“I burn most of it.”

“Oh.  Well, then.  What…do you like to eat?”

Another angelic smile wreathed its way across his face.  “Everything. Except cucumber.  I can’t even stand the smell.”

“What did cucumbers ever do to you?  Show me on the doll where they touched you.”  He snorted.  “Okay, so I’m beginning to see your dilemma.  Let’s keep it simple.  Everyone loves dessert, and you mentioned cake.  That would probably be the easiest thing to do, yet dress up a little to make it fancy.”  He stared blankly.  “You can just buy a box mix, and then add things to make it better.”

“Add…things.”  

You shook your head. “Come on.  I will help you.”  You led him to the baking aisle, and grabbed a few boxes of vanilla cake mix.  “Do you have any particular flavor in mind?”  He shook his head.  You chuckled.  “This is a lot of responsibility.”

“I trust you.”

“Yes, well.  I suppose you don’t acquire this figure without knowing what tastes good.”  He stepped back, and studiously ran his eyes over you.  

“I like your figure.”

Your face flamed, and you turned away, pretending to be engrossed in the nut section.  “Ok, so…how about a coconut –hazelnut cake?” He shrugged.  You grabbed the hazelnuts and tossed them into his cart.  

“Hey, we passed the frosting.”  You shot him a look.  “We don’t use store-bought frosting.  We’re better than that.”

He looked confused. “We are?”

“Yes, we are. Frosting is very easy to make; you can do it.”

“Doubtful.”

“I believe in you.”

“I don’t.”

Turning around you began to walk backwards, smiling up at him.  “I thought you trusted me.”

“I do trust you.  I just don’t trust myself.”

“If you don’t trust in my trust in you, doesn’t that mean that you don’t trust me?”

He rubbed his forehead. “Is that a riddle?”  You tilted your head, and looked up at him charmingly. “Alright!  Alright.  Lead on!”

Guiding him through the store, you picked up eggs, coconut oil, coconut milk, butter, cake pans, rum extract, parchment paper, and powdered sugar.  “Well, that’s it.  That should be all you need.”

“This is it?”  

“This is it.”

“This isn’t too bad.”

You held out your hand. “Give me your phone.”  Without question, he took it from his back pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to you.”  After some quick navigation, you opened his notes app, turned on the recorder, and said, “Use twice as many eggs as the boxes call for, coconut milk in place of water, and add three tablespoons of rum extract.  Lightly,” you looked at him sternly, “lightly toast the hazelnuts, crush them, and press them into the cake frosting when you’re done.  Youtube how to line your pans with parchment paper, instead of butter, and flour.  Google how to make buttercream, and replace the vanilla extract with the rum, and the regular milk with the coconut milk.  Let the cakes cool, and then freeze them before you frost them.  It helps cut down on crumbs.  Finally,” here you looked at him again, grinning cheekily, “don’t screw it up.”  You winked, and handed the phone back to him.  He sighed.  

“That was a lot of directions.”

“You’re a smart man.”

“You don’t know that.”

You laughed, and your eye caught the store windows.  “I’m sorry, I have to go soon—it’s getting dark, and I don’t like having to carry things when it’s dark.  I had better finish my shopping, and go.”

“I could drive you home.”

You shook your head. “I need all of the exercise I can get.”

Was it your imagination, or did he look disappointed?  Teasingly tilting his body until he was at your eye level, he said, “How about you walk, while I drive slowly alongside you to ensure sure you make it home safely?”

Crinkling your nose, you teased, “I’m pretty sure that it’s against the law to drive under the speed limit.”  He pouted, and bit his lip, looking away.  “I’ll be fine.  That…thing that happened, that was just a fluke.  Lightning never strikes the same place twice.”

“I’m fairly sure that has been disproved on multiple occasions.”

Rolling your eyes, you gave a laughing sigh, and started walking backwards.  “I’m going now.  Good luck with your cake.”  He looked after you like a puppy as you waved.  You turned around, so as not to lose your resolve, but when you caught his reflection in the store window, you saw that he watched you until you turned into the next aisle.

***

A couple of weeks later you wandered through the library stacks, slowly dragging your fingertips along the spines of books as you made your way to your destination.  You were feeling a little Anne Rice tonight or, more specifically, a little A.N. Roquelaure.  You tilted your head to better read the titles, gently humming tunelessly to yourself.  A flash of movement in the aisle in front of yours caught your eye, and you saw the profile of a man in a black dress shirt and tie.  Thoughtfully looking up, you caught him gazing down at you across the stack. You froze, but it took you only a moment to recognize those eyes, despite the fact that the lower half of his face was covered by books.  You smiled slowly, and languidly walked to the end of the stack, with him mirroring your relaxed pace.  When you reached the end, Baekhyun leaned a shoulder against it, tilting his upper body toward you.  He wasn’t very tall, but he was taller than you by about half a head.  You smiled up into his eyes.  “Hey, you,” he whispered.  

“Hey, back. For what are you looking, this time?”  

“I don’t know.” You raised an eyebrow. “Something relaxing.  Something distracting.”

“Well, what do you like?”  

He smiled lazily, briefly looking down before raising his eyes to yours.  “Tell me what you like.  You choose for me.”

You smiled.  “Again?!”  

He tilted his head, pouting. “Please?  I’ve had a long day, and I’m too tired.”

“That’s…a dangerous request, sir.  I’ve been having a passionate love affair with books for decades.  I could talk forever about them.”

“Well,” he said, looking at his watch.  “We have about 2 hours before we’re kicked out, so…not quite forever.”

You grinned, and then bit your lip to try to control your smile.  Most people liked your smile, with its perfect, even white teeth, and sweet dimples, but all you could see were your chubby cheeks that made you look as if you were still in high school, and still got you carded long after you were legal.  He watched your mobile expressions, his eyes dancing with affectionate amusement. “Well,” you said, “Do you like fantasy?”

His eyebrows winged toward his hairline, but he quickly regained control of his expression.  “Ah, you mean like, ‘Lord of the Rings’”?  

“Exactly. Why, what did you think I meant?”

He waved away your question. “Don’t worry about it.  Um, sure.  I love fantasy.  And sci-fi,” he added, as an afterthought.  

“Have you read the Game of Thrones series?”  

“No, I’ve only seen the show.”

“Oh, you have to!” you insisted, artlessly grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the section that housed George R.R. Martin’s work.  “The show is incredible, but they just don’t have to time to go into all of the infinite details that you find in the books.”  Smiling indulgently, he allowed you to drag him along.  “Are you a fast reader?”

“Relatively.”

“Good.” You piled his arms with the first three of Martin’s dictionary-thick books.  You bit your lip, and eyed the large stack in his arms. Looking pitifully up at him, you asked, “One more suggestion?”

“Sure.”

Taking him by the cuff of his sleeve, you led him to the section that held another one of your beloved authors, Jim Butcher.  “Now, this isn’t fantasy, per se, more paranormal fiction, but it’s amazing, and you have to read it!”  You piled a few more books into his arms.  “Again, I’ll just give you the first three; I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

He looked down at the books in his arms.  “The Dresden Files?”

“It’s a series about a wizard private eye.  It sounds stupid, but it’s written in such a way as to be completely believable.  It’s tight, fast paced, and well-crafted.”

His face twitched in a split second grin that was gone as soon as you noticed it.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You nodded, looking off thoughtfully.  

“What is it?”

You turned back to him, eyes wide and innocent.  “Perhaps…just…one more suggestion?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Alright.  One more, but then I have to stop—I’m running out of arm space.”  

You led the way back to the section in which you had been when you first saw him.  “Anne Rice. My favourite author, hands down.”  You picked the most famous three, Interview with the Vampire, The Vampire Lestat, and Queen of the Damned.  You smiled up charmingly at him.  

“What are you going to borrow today?”

“Oh, just some of her shorter books.”  You were slipping the Sleeping Beauty trilogy into your satchel when your phone rang. It was your father.

“Where are you?”

“At the library.”

“Well, come home, it’s getting late.”

“It’s July, Dad.  It’s still light outside.”

“Yes, but it will be dark by the time you get home.”

You sighed. “Fine.  I’m coming.”

“Thank you.”

“Mm.”

“I love you.”

“You too.”

You looked up at Baekhyun, and smiled ruefully.  “I have to go.”

His expression was neutral. “Alright.”

“It was a pleasure seeing you again.”

His eyes were lambent as he watched you back away.  “A pleasure,” he echoed.

You waved both hands, tilting your head, and smiling softly.  “Happy reading.”

He smiled, and nodded, and you turned around to go check out your books.

“See you around,” he said quietly.

***

You were cutting through the City Hall parking lot, on your way to work, when you saw, in your peripheral vision, someone walking beside you.  Looking up, you did a double-take.  “Baekhyun?”  He grinned down at you.  “Hey, we have to stop meeting like this.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Going to work, you?”

You were incredulous. “You work for the City?”

“I do work for the City.”

“I’ve never seen your name in the employee directory.”

“I was just hired as one of the Assistant City Managers.”

Your eyebrows flew up in surprise.  “Really?!”

He smiled awkwardly. “Yes, really.  Why, what did you think I did?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I really never thought about it, I guess. I’m just surprised that we both work for the City.”  

“So, you work for the City, too?”

“Mm.  I’m an advocate—well—a supervisory advocate, I guess. Making that mid-level manager money. Which is, to say, a pittance, but it helps me keep my cats in the lifestyle to which they’ve become accustomed.”

He snorted, then paused. “I have an important question.”

“What is it?”

He gestured to the cup in your hand.  “What…is that?!”

Chuckling, you shook it in his face.  “This…is breakfast.”

He looked horrified. “What’s in it?”

Slyly, you coaxed. “It’s delicious.  You should try it.  No cucumber, I promise.”  To your surprise, he held out his hand.  You gave him the cup, and watched him open the flip top, and drink.  

Closing it, he laughed at your flabbergasted expression as he handed it back to you.  “I told you, I like everything, and I trust you.  It’s good.  What’s in it?”

“Cucumbers.”

“Liar.”

You threw back your head, and laughed.  “Guilty. Spinach, kale, blackberries, strawberries, raspberries, and pea protein.”

His face soured slightly. “Sounds…healthy.”

“It is.  And now it’s all in your body, digesting as we speak, slowly nourishing you.”

“How did you make that sound creepy?”

“I have a gift.”

He nodded, and turned toward you, just as you looked down at your watch.  “Hey, listen–”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” you interrupted, “but I have to be at work in 2 minutes.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

Putting your hand on his arm, you gave it an affectionate squeeze, and then started to walk away.  “I enjoyed seeing you again,” you tossed over your shoulder, waving aimlessly.

He nodded, watching you go until you turned out of sight.  

Follow me @vampwrrr, for the latest updates.

[junkyardlynx]

Pt. 5

By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . . Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear. 

-The Waste Land, T. S. Eliot. (III. The Fire Sermon)

Four cold, slick, and damp walls surrounded Thomas. He lay huddled on the dirty floor, clinging to himself, as if trying to hold everything he was inside of him. Short black hair, matted with mud, sweat and blood stuck to his forehead,  The relief that the chilly concrete provided his burning skin was momentary, but it was something. Like a cat seeking affection, he proceeded to grind his cheek and forehead into the wall, a low moan issuing from his searing throat.

Perhaps five meters up lay freedom and he could see sunlight lazily streaming down into the makeshift prison he was in. The walls were meaningless, really. They could have left him in an abandoned field. There was no way that Thomas Jude was going anywhere, after all. He had no strength to move, much less stand, or crawl, or walk, or certainly run.

His entire being was undergoing a sort of rhexis, rupturing and turning inside out. Waves of immense heat washed over him, moment by moment, and the thick droplets of spittle that hung grotesquely from his lips felt more like molten lava. He wept fire, the tears of exertion only adding to his suffering, dripping off his inflamed cheeks and sizzling on the ground. He prayed for a death that he knew would not come. His mind was cast back to the past, seeking refuge from that ever-burning pyre that consumed his insides.

---

He just wanted to be like them.

He wasn’t jealous of their love. He supported it. Time and time again, he tried to push them together, but they were too shy or too hesitant to follow through. It was honestly irritating, he thought. How could they not realize their own feelings? So when it finally started to happen, when they noticed each other as something other than friends, he was overjoyed.

The three stuck together for years - kids knee-deep in the muck and the mire, laughing in shallow creeks and sneaking out to see bad horror movies. If someone had a problem with Jeal, Thom had a problem with them. If someone was creeping on Sarisa? Thomas might make a delivery of earthworms into their backpack, just to send a message. The three were inseparable, and there was only love and friendship to be found.

But then they started to grow apart from him. 

He was being left behind.

They disappeared at odd times, sometimes independent of each other but mostly together. This had happened before, of course, and Thomas chalked it up to things like Jeal having those piano lessons with his father or Sarisa learing how to ride that motorcycle she’d gotten for her sixteenth birthday. You know, normal people things. Sometimes he was right.

But he found out, eventually. 

Having nothing to do after class on a Friday, Thomas went down to the retro arcade that had just opened. A spot of Terminator 2 Light Gun action felt like the right response to a boring and lonesome afternoon. Awkwardly fishing his wallet out of his jeans as he walked down the road, he started to count his bills as he rounded the corner, only to find something wholly unexpected.

Jeal being attacked by some...guy? A guy wearing some Japanese kabuki theatre mask and swinging a sword. A sword? Does he have a license for that? Shaking his head to sweep away that inane thought, he watched, mesmerized as Jeal evaded every frenzied slash. He looked almost bored, but surely that couldn’t be it. Thomas’ mind froze for one second, then two, and by the time that he began to leap into action, it was over.

It was over because Sarisa had appeared from nowhere, frozen the man’s legs to the ground and kicked him right in the jaw, replete with a wet cracking sound that indicated something had probably broken. He fell over at an awkward angle, his legs still stuck to the ground in a block of ice, leaving him in a very precarious sort of limbo state. With a sigh, Jeal brushed the dirt off his slacks and tucked a length of golden hair behind his ear before jerking his thumb at the attacker, his red eyes cold and hard, colder and harder than Thomas had ever seen them. Sarisa seemed to heave a mocking, exaggerated sigh before freeing the man. Leaving him in the middle of the road, Sarisa had grabbed Jeal’s hand and lead him off, both seeming wholly unconcerned with the entire bizarre fucking situation. 

Something came over Thomas in that moment.

He waited a few moments to see if the coast was clear before jogging out into the street and kneeling over the person, the demonic mask having been struck clean and cast off. Their sword was missing, curiously enough. Their face was turned to the side and covered by a black cloth wrap, but long brown hair could be seen peeking out from the sides of the makeshift cover.

“You alright, man?”

The person rolled onto their back to face him, dark honey eyes staring into his own cloudy blues. They wordlessly pulled down the black cloth covering their head before responding with a wordless froth of spittle and blood. 

“Not a man, right. Sorry.”

She was striking, even with half of her face swollen and distorted. Catching himself, Thomas stripped off his jacket and placed it under her head as he began to fumble around in his pocket, looking for his cell. He caught himself.

What was he doing? This person tried to kill his friend. 

But...

What were his friends doing? And what was that Final Fantasy Blizzaga bullshit?

“I’ll call the poli-”

Thomas found a short blade at his throat, followed by a gentle shake of the woman’s head. 

“...no police...” 

A soft voice forced itself from her lips and he found himself acquiescing to her demands, tucking his phone back into his pants. He looked around as the sun began to set, the street curiously empty. Looking back down at the woman, Thomas scratched the back of his head almost angrily.

“Guess I’ll take you back to my place. It’s not like I have parents who can tell me no anyway, haha. Hah. Yeah.” 

He offered his hand.

He couldn’t quite determine the emotions behind the look on her face, but it was somewhere between pity, empathy and gratitude. Carefully, grabbing onto Thomas’ shoulder, she pulled herself up to her knees, and then her feet. As if forgetting it existed until that moment, the lady bent down painfully to reach for the demonic mask, only to find Thomas handing it to her.

“Wouldn’t wanna forget that, right? Anyway, I’ll get you patched up. In return, you have to tell me about what you were attacked for.”

She only smiled at him, but the smile seemed far away.

[thesoundofnat]

A Pretty Mess

Tony/Steve

Summary: Tony is good looking, but is he good looking enough to be with Steve? According to the media (and himself), no. Or so he thinks.

[Read it on AO3]

Words: 2 272

Tony knew he was good looking. Not necessarily because he was vain, but because it had been chanted by everyone around him ever since he turned 18. The media practically went crazy once he was in his 20s, so much so that he almost felt uncomfortable. That was when he decided to start complimenting women on their accomplishments and brains first, looks second.

He was also well aware that Steve was good looking, even when they hadn’t really gotten along. It had pissed him off how someone with such a beautiful face could be so infuriating, but at least it made their first kiss more passionate.

Tony could look at the famous Captain America freely now, eyes roaming over curves and skin; way more skin than the world had ever seen. He wasn’t stupid. He knew people questioned why Steve Rogers was with him, a man who still had it but who was getting older day by day. One day he’d wake up and not a single magazine would be thirsting after him. It didn’t necessarily bother him. He had more to offer the world than his looks, but it stung a little bit to know that certain people thought Steve was too pretty for him.

“It’s all in your head,” Rhodey said when he confided this in him. “No one’s ever commented on your age, Tones.”

Tony snorted. “I know I should be proud that Steve is with me, and I am, trust me, but I sometimes can’t help but wonder why.”

“I think this stems more from your own insecurities than actual facts.”

He never brought it up with Steve. Not fully anyway. Steve would shut down every argument he’d have, and Tony would rather sulk about this in silence than to have Steve know he was sulking. He reckoned their relationship was still too new for Steve to know how messed up he could be.

“Looking good, Captain.”

Those words should’ve left Tony’s mouth, but instead they’d left the mouth of a journalist, her camera in their faces as Steve and Tony tried to make their way from a gala to their car. Steve shot her a shy smile, still unsure of how to act in situations like this. Tony had practically been born under a spotlight, but even he could sometimes feel a bit flustered. Now was not one of those cases.

He shot her an unimpressed look as they reached the car, only looking away to open the door for Steve who kissed him once they were both inside, the dark windows hiding them from the world.

“Thank you,” he said when they pulled away.

“Don’t mention it. You had a good night?”

“It was all right. Would’ve prefered to stay home.”

“Wouldn’t we all.”

The car started moving, but Happy didn’t say a word to them, only rolled up the partition as if he knew Tony needed the privacy. Tony needed to give that man a raise or something.

He cleared his throat. “Thank you for accompanying me. Being alone at these things is a bore.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“I can give you more pleasure once we’re home, and hey, you’ll actually have fun.”

Steve shook his head, lips curled in a grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Are you turning down the offer?”

“Well, no.”

“Hah.”

“Oh, hush. Don’t look so smug.”

“I have America’s biggest eye candy on my arm. I have the right to.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I should walk around being smug all the time then.”

“Not that I’m only dating you for your looks- wait, come again?”

“Have you seen yourself?” Steve’s cheeks were tinted a rosy pink, but Tony was too busy trying to understand to relish in the sight. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

“Not according to the media.” Tony hadn’t meant to say it. He’d wanted to smile shyly and duck his head and have Steve repeat it until he believed it, and then kiss him all the way to the Tower, take a break to walk to the elevator, and then kiss him again until they were in bed, undressed. But his traitor of a mouth didn’t have a filter.

“What do you mean?” Steve was frowning at him, and Tony was reminded once again why he’d wanted to keep this to himself. Damned was the man who made Steve Rogers anything other than happy, Tony included.

He opened his mouth, every single word he wanted to say dying at the tip of his tongue. He closed it, looked away. He suddenly wished Happy would put on some music or something.

“Well,” he started, fully aware of how easy it would be to laugh this off. Tell Steve the media was crazy about him and that it made Tony proud (which it did). But the bitter tone in his voice had been way too audible. He couldn’t escape this now.

“They love you, you know,” he said. “For good reason, of course, but what they say about you used to be what they said about me, once. When I was younger.”

Steve didn’t reply. Only tilted his head in a silent request for him to continue.

“I’m not jealous of your success. Hell, if the world got together and started praising you like a god I’d be right there in the front line, praising you with them. But…”

“But?”

“I guess it makes me wonder why you’re with me. When you’re literally a masterpiece. S’all.”

Steve looked angry now. Tony had expected it, but it was still shocking to see that glare be directed at him so fiercely.

He looked away, but Steve’s hand on his chin forced him to turn back.

“You- who put these things into your head?”

Tony smiled. A sad smile. “No one ever needs to put stuff like that into my head.”

“Tony-”

“Steve, I- it’s not your fault. It’s all me.”

“Stop it. You do know I’m absolutely crazy about you, right?” Tony didn’t reply, so Steve placed both hands on his cheeks, fingertips in his hair. “There’s not a day where I don’t wonder how I got so lucky.”

“Ditto,” Tony said, his voice embarrassingly shaky. He cleared his throat. “Whenever people call you good looking I want to scream it ten times louder. Maybe I’m jealous that they have the courage to say it so loudly and publicly.”

“You don’t have to tell the world, you know. Telling me is enough.” Tony knew he didn’t just mean it in relations to his appearance.

He closed the gap, letting his lips capture Steve’s. Forgetting the world, for just a moment.

“We’re here, boss,” Happy said - loudly - from the front seat just as the car stopped. Fucking buzzkill.

*

That night, Steve refused to stop reminding him of how good he was. How handsome and smart and funny and charismatic. Yes, Steve really did use the word charismatic. Of course he did.

Tony laughed it off at first. “Stop it. We don’t have to get fixated on this.”

“Yes, we do,” was all Steve replied, his nose brushing against Tony’s collarbone. “We really, really do.”

After that, Tony got shy. It was ridiculous, but it was the truth. The more Steve touched him, kissed him, and told him how beautiful he was, the warmer his blush grew. Steve grinned, but was kind enough to not comment on it.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you smile,” he said, and Tony covered his face and said smile with a hand. “Hey, hey, no, look at me. To hide like that would be a crime.”

“Mm, and what would be my punishment, Captain?” That would probably be more effective if Tony wasn’t a bright red mess.

“I might have to tie you up,” Steve said, and wow okay apparently Tony could go redder.

Once Steve allowed Tony to pin him, the compliments never once stopping, Tony started laughing, unsure of how to take them. Steve mock scolded him for not taking him seriously, but the night got very giggly after that.

“Seriously, though,” Steve said much later when the world was getting brighter. “Do you still question me being with you?”

“I guess not,” Tony said, squirming beneath the covers.

“Because I’ve never been more certain of something in my entire life.”

If Tony was a crier he would’ve wept then and there.

*

“You’re pretty.”

Steve looked up, catching Tony’s eye. “Thank you?”

Tony let out a laugh. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I just- you said it weirdly.”

“I’m trying to remind myself that I can say it whenever I want and as many times as I want.”

“Don’t overdo it.”

“Like you overdid it last night?”

Steve grinned sheepishly. “I don’t regret it.”

“I didn’t say you should.” Tony took a sip of his coffee. “You’re damn lucky this sacred thing exists though.”

“You’re the one who didn’t tell me you had a meeting.”

“You think I remember all my meetings? My life is just an ongoing surprise party, only the party parts are alarms and phone calls asking me where I am.”

“Sounds fun.”

Tony grunted, checking his watch. “All right, beautiful, I’m off. Wait, that made it sound like you’re the wife I leave behind.”

“Well, it’s not too far off.”

“Ha ha. See you later.”

They kissed. Tony took one last sip of his coffee, and left, but not before Steve called him beautiful back. They were kind of gross, but he liked it.

*

It became normal for them to call each other pet names after that, mostly in private, but it slipped out from time to time. Seeing their fellow teammates’ reactions made it pretty worth it.

“Did you just call him pretty?” Clint asked incredulously. “Oh geez, and here I thought I’d have to deal with walking in on the two of you making out, but it turns out you’re gonna rub your love in my face instead.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s just a pet name.”

“Does he call you pretty back?”

“I call him beautiful,” Tony said, smirking to himself when Clint snorted.

“Gross. I’m out of here.”

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Barton.”

“Fuck right off, Stark.”

Natasha merely sent them knowing looks when it happened in front of her, and Bruce and Thor didn’t say a word, though Thor looked pretty pleased about the whole thing, which was sort of endearing.

They never did it in front of Rhodey, but Tony kept him in the loop and told him about it anyway.

“I told you it was all in your head,” he said.

“It’s not, though. The media still thinks he’s too pretty for me.”

“The media isn’t Steve, and Steve’s opinion carries more, don’t you think?”

Maybe so, but Tony still had a voice in the back of his mind that he couldn’t shut up no matter how hard he tried. It was more annoying than affecting, but it was there, and sometimes, when he was already feeling low, it messed him up.

“Do you think it bothers someone so much that we’re dating that they have a plan to take me out?” Tony asked one night, the two of them curled up on the couch in the lounge, no other Avengers around.

Steve snorted. “I’d like to see them try. Besides, I’m sure there are people who are thinking the opposite.”

“They love us?”

“That too, but I meant that they want to take me out of the picture.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Tony.”

“Oh, no, you’re using that voice again.” The one he only used when Tony was being self-deprecating.

“Can you blame me? How many times do I have to tell you that you’re gorgeous?”

“Two more times.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Again.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“All right, I think I got it.”

Steve shifted a bit in order to see him better, a smile playing on his lips. “You sure? Because I can keep going.”

“I think you convinced me you find me attractive like a week ago.”

“Ah, and yet you’ve let me keep up the reminders.”

“Reminders don’t hurt.”

“That’s true.”

“Wait, hold on.” Tony fished his phone out of his pocket, swiping to the camera smoothly and turning it on video mode. “Hey, Rogers,” he said, aiming it at him. Steve had that confused half-smile thing going on and Tony wouldn’t be able to keep in his next words even if he tried. “You’re beautiful, did you know?”

He laughed then, all embarrassed giggles and scrunched up face. It really was as if they had an audience right now. “So are you.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you over how absolutely stunning you are.”

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, Tony Stark.”

Tony turned the video off quickly, exhaling loudly. “Geez, way to make me flustered on camera.”

“Why did you film that?”

“Because you’re cute when you get put on the spot like that. And because if I can tell that in a video I can tell that to the world.”

“You don’t have to tell anyone, Tony.”

“I know. But I’d like to. Every single time someone else tells you I long to scream it louder.” He shook his head. “Wait, I think I’ve already told you that.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s the truth.”

“We don’t have to scream it to the world, you know. I know the media makes you feel a bit insecure, but it was never about them.” Steve cupped his cheek, caressing the skin with his thumb. “It’s only about us.”

Maybe Tony’s insecurities couldn’t get cured that easily, but he had to admit he hung onto Steve’s every word.

[internationalhouseofblupjeans]

An Eighth Bird, Born Out of the Storm - Chapter 5

Based loosely on the Luume'irma headcanon from @interstellarvagabond

Lup and Taako get their decennial “visitor” just before the fateful trip on the Starblaster. Taako holes up in his room, meditating away the discomfort while Lup discovers a partner for the week. Unforeseen consequences arise. Bonds are created. An eighth bird rises.

Eighth Bird AU.

The crew lands on a hostile planet and, within the span of a couple of weeks, loses three members. Barry is numb. Taako doesn't eat. Magnus is no longer hospitable. 

This chapter is rough, guys. I apologize in advance. The angst got away from me in this one, so warning for blood, major (temporary) character deaths, and a character dealing with disassociating. I tried not to get too explicit with the violence, but this chapter is gonna hurt.

Thank you to Calcu from the writer’s chat for Beta'ing!!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 below Chapter 6 Chapter 7Chapter 8 Chapter 9  Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22

To whom it may concern:

This is my fifth request in regards to the clerical mistake made when I first joined the IPRE. I realize that cursive is difficult for some of the younger administrators to read, however my name should have been written as Darry Hallwinter. I realize my mistake in that I should have used my full birth name of Sildar, but Darry is an acceptable nickname.

Additionally, I believe a clarification needs to be made with my last name. I am not sure who changed it, but my last name is indeed Hallwinter. It is not Bluejeans. Bluejeans is not a family name.

Enclosed are my birth certificate and government issued ID card. Please contact me at your earliest convenience to correct this error.

Thank you,

Sildar Hallwinter

Barry realized it after leaving Tesseralia.

Lup had missed her “visitor” three times now.

This wasn’t just planar shenanigans. There was no way that this had to do with planar magic.

He wanted to talk with her about it, but as soon as Taako was out of Magnus’ room at the end of his week, Lup was constantly at his side. He couldn’t find a time to be alone with her.

When the cycle reset and the crew landed, Lup and Barry went out to survey the area. Barry was nervous the entire time, wanting to ask her about her missing visitor. What if she was pregnant? What would they even do now?

What was their relationship at this point?

The sound of something whizzing past him shook Barry out of his reverie. He looked up and gasped.

Lup was standing, slumped over, in front of him. Her back was to him, but he saw an iron spear sticking out of her back.

No no no no …

Barry ran to Lup’s side, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. She was staring down at the ground, shock on her face as she tried to breathe around the spear that went through her.He looked around, prepared for a fight, but saw no one.

It must have been a trap. He could have been killed instead.

I should have ...

“Lup …” Barry whispered.

She looked up at him and her expression softened as she tried to smile, sadly.

“Well, I guess that’s it for this year, huh?” She gasped.

“I’ll … I’ll get Merle!” Barry cried out.

“N… No … Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “I don’t like being alone …”

Barry froze for a moment before he moved in closer to her. He tried to cradle her without moving her too much, not wanting to make her feel any more pain than she already did.

“I was going to talk to you but … I can’t focus … Remind me next cycle,” she whispered.

Barry nodded, trying to keep himself together.

“Taak … Take care of …” she pressed her head into Barry’s chest. “Hurts …”

“I know,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry …”

“Not your …”

Lup closed her eyes and took a few more shallow breaths. Barry held her close, tears spilling onto her dark hair. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but eventually, the breathing stopped and the warmth started to leave her body.

He’d been there when she died before, but it was always at the end of a cycle. Always quick.

He’d never gone through an entire cycle without her before.

~

Taako waited nervously for Lup and Barry to return.

As soon as they had reformed at the end of the Beach cycle, Lup had pulled Taako into her room and sat him down.

“Taako … I … I’m pregnant.”

“I fucking knew it. Who was it? Was it Davenport? Fuck, please tell me it wasn’t Davenport! Barry’s going to be so upset!”

“Oh Gods … He is, isn’t he? He probably didn’t want this at all and now I’ve saddled him with this! We just thought it was going to be for a week. Just a fling! And now I’ve tied him down with this if we ever get out of these cycles! He’s going to hate me! I can’t tell him-”

“Wait … Tied down … Barry?”

“Yeah … He’s going to be so- Wait … Davenport’s …. You thought I was pregnant with Cap’n’port’s kid?” Lup had asked, perplexed and horrified.

“Well you weren’t all over Barry like I thought you would be and he never said anything!” Taako complained. “So … You and Barry?”

“Yeah … during my …”

“Hachi Machi ….”

“Yeah .. and we kept saying it would only be a fling but, Taako, I think I’m in love with him …”

“Wow … Yeah …” Taako started. “I mean, that’s good but, Lup, you’ve gotta tell him …”

“I know but … I can’t. He doesn’t need this, on top of everything else! It’s not fair to him!”

“Lulu …”

Taako had wanted to say something, anything to make this easier, but Barry had put his trust in him. If he wasn’t ready to say anything …

“Ok … Well, just - Just think about telling him, Ok? Doesn’t have to be now, but he deserves to know,” Taako sighed.

“I know …”

When Lup had told Barry to come with her on the survey, she looked to Taako with the look that said, “I’m going to tell him.”

And they were still out there.

Taako knew, deep down, that eventually Barry would be alright with this. He had to know that this was a possibility. And he’d said he loved Lup.

When he only saw Barry appear through the trees, his heart caught in his chest.

When he saw the blood on his shirt as he got closer, Taako’s heart plummeted.

“No …” he whispered before running out to Barry.

Barry stumbled out of the forest, still in shock. He couldn’t lift her body off of the spear. He could barely move his arms. He stopped when he saw Taako bolting towards him.

Lup’s name must have escaped his own lips. He must have said something because Taako looked absolutely destroyed. He expected anger. He expected Taako to rage against him, to hate him for letting his sister die so soon.

Instead, Taako pulled Barry into a close hug.

“Barold … Gods, I’m so … I’m so sorry Barry …”

Barry crumpled into Taako’s arms and wept bitterly as Taako tried to calm him down. Taako was too in shock to mourn properly. Barry and Lup were supposed to have their heart to heart conversation. Barry was supposed to get (hopefully) good news.

Instead, she was gone for a year.

A whole year.

Taako had never been without his sister for that long, in the century he had been alive. He had never even imagined what life would be like without her.

He helped Barry back into the Starblaster where they were greeted by a concerned Merle who immediately paled when he saw the blood on Barry’s shirt.

“Not mine …” Barry mumbled, hoarsely. “Lup’s …”

That night, Magnus went with Barry to where Lup had been killed. Taako found himself in his sister’s room, wrapped up in her blankets.

He had tried to keep himself from crying. From showing any weakness.

He had to put on a brave face. Lup was always so much braver than he was. Even as children, she was the brave one. She was the one that protected him.

Now she was gone for a year.

He looked around her room. Everything was painful to look at but he couldn’t leave the room. He couldn’t leave the reminders that his sister existed. He curled up tighter in Lup’s blanket.

Maybe she wasn’t really dead. Maybe this was all a sick prank.

But Barry’s face. The shock he had been in.

Lup was dead.

And they were going to bring her body back soon.

~

Barry looked at the bloody spear.

Lup was gone.

“She … Someone …” Barry started.

Magnus pulled Barry close. He looked around, scanning for movement.

Whoever had taken Lup was long gone. He felt Barry trembling in Magnus’ arms.

“Why … Gods … We can’t even bury her …”

“I’m sorry,” Magnus whispered.

“We … We should go back …”

Magnus nodded and helped Barry back to the Starblaster. In the morning, he would mount an expedition and see who was out there. Maybe he could still find Lup’s body so that the crew could have closure for this year.

So that Taako could have closure …

He watched as Barry stumbled down the hall, stopping in front of Lup’s doorway before entering. He heard him speaking softly to someone in there before a loud sob escaped the room.

Taako …

Magnus continued on to his own room and got ready. He was going to find who did this.

Fuck his rustic hospitality.

They hurt his family.

~

Over the next few days, the crew waited in the ship as Magnus continued his quest. He had gone out with as much of the armory as he could carry and rations for days. Taako had not moved from Lup’s bed, not even for meals. Barry had brought in food but it always sat, untouched, on the bedside table. Barry tried to get Taako to eat, but eventually, he was locked out of Lup’s room after Taako enchanted the lock.

He sat outside the door, waiting and worrying.

He couldn’t lose Taako too.

After a week, Magnus arrived, disheveled but alive. His eyes were haunted and in his hand was a gunny sack.

“I … I had to steal her,” he explained. “Don’t … Don’t look inside. They’re dangerous unless you’re human. Taako …. He can’t leave the ship. He was lucky he didn’t … Where is he?”

“Lup’s room.”

Magnus nodded, setting down the sack.

“I … I need a shovel. So we can bury her. And … Tell Taako. We’ll do a ceremony if he would like …”

Barry nodded and went to Lup’s room to find the door ajar.

His blood ran cold.

He stepped into the room, the eerie silence hitting him as he walked through the door. He looked at Taako’s form. He looked like he was sleeping but Barry knew better.

He walked over and touched Taako’s arm.

Cold.

He cleaned up the plate of food and walked out, not sure if the shock of losing both twins was going to hit him yet. He passed Magnus who looked at him, concerned.

“You … you need to dig two holes,” Barry whispered.

Magnus broke into a run toward Lup’s room as Barry continued into the kitchen. He set the dishes into the sink and turned on the water, letting the sink fill up.

He could see himself, now, just staring into the water. He could see himself grabbing the soap, pouring it into the sink. He could see the bubbles forming, the foam filling the sink.

He couldn't feel the heat of the water. He couldn't feel the smoothness of the plates or the silverware.

He couldn't feel anything.

He wasn't sure how long he was even standing at the sink. He somehow got all of the dishes done, though he didn't remember doing them.

Lup was going to tell him something.

Taako was so eager for them both to return.

He went outside. The sack was still there. The sack that held Lup.

That held the woman he loved.

He sat down next to it and placed his hand on it. He felt her arm through the sack. Her head. A leg. Haphazardly thrown in.

Oh.

That's why Magnus said not to open it.

Tears pricked his eyes but did not spill out.

When Magnus came out, carrying Taako’s shrouded body, Barry got to work, helping him dig. He didn't notice when he got the splinters in his hands or the blood running down them as he gripped the shovel tightly but Magnus eventually pulled the shovel away from him.

“Go get Merle before he goes into Parley,” Magnus started. “We can do a ceremony …”

Barry must have nodded. He must have gone inside. He didn't remember any of it.

He couldn't really understand what Merle said as he stared into the twin holes in the ground. He thought he saw Lucretia writing something. He wasn't sure.

He just knew one thing.

He needed this year to end.

~

Lucretia didn't know it then, but a seed was planted.

She watched as the twins’ bodies were lowered into the holes. They were down two crew members now.

Once Merle was in Parley, they would be down three.

She stared at Taako’s grave as she chronicled the funeral.

Taako couldn't live without his sister.

This could never happen again.

~

Barry ended up being the one to make contact.

It had been four months. Barry still would occasionally find himself handing something off in the lab to someone who wasn't there.

The silence on the ship was deafening. The loss of the twins had created a vacuum. The loss of Merle when he went into Parley made it worse. It felt like everyone was on autopilot.

It's why Barry had found himself outside the ship.

He stood at Lup and Taako's graves. He knew they would be back in less than a year, but it didn't make it any less devastating.

“What were you going to tell me?” He whispered.

The bushes rustled and Barry’s hand went straight to his wand. He stared into the darkness, waiting for something to attack.

Instead, a friendly looking human man emerged.

“Hail and well met!” The stranger crowed. “I'm looking for someone! Perhaps you have seen him-?”

The man stopped when he saw Barry standing over the two mounds.

“Ahh. Did you lose someone in the hunts?”

“The what?” Barry asked.

The man laughed.

“You one of those elf lovers?” He started. “Come on, they're not people like you and me. They're like deer, only more dangerous.”

Barry's hand trembled.

“What …”

“I'm actually looking for the one I caught. I got a Sun Elf in one of my spike traps and took it in for processing. Someone took it and, well, I assumed that it might have been taken by someone who was jealous of my kill … They are rare after all … but now I think I know what happened to it.”

The man reached for his weapon.

Barry cast without thinking.

Magnus was alerted to the loud explosion outside of the Starblaster and raced out. He saw Barry, standing in front of a smoking crater. His whole body was shaking and his jaw was set in anger.

“Barry?” Magnus asked.

“He killed Lup. He killed her for a trophy … They hunt elves here …”

Magnus’ expression softened.

“Yeah. When I found her … It was horrible. I couldn’t even get all of her, Barry … I’m sorry.”

“Fuck this planar system,” he growled before turning back to the ship.

Magnus stared at the smouldering crater. A part of him wished he had told Barry the truth earlier. He knew, however, that if he had, then it would have gotten worse.

He had seen Barry during training before the mission. He knew how powerful he was when he was casting. He knew how easily Barry could lose himself.

He followed Barry back into the ship. There wasn’t any way they could find the light on this plane, anyway. Not with such hostile inhabitants.

Passing by the twins rooms, Magnus wondered if he even cared.

~

When the year ended, Barry paid his respects one last time to Lup’s grave. He knelt in front of it as the silent storm gathered overheard. A part of him wanted to stay. To not have to wait the agonizing minutes before the reset.

But he knew the rest of the crew still needed him.

He knew that Lup and Taako would be back soon.

As they were pulled apart and reformed, Barry caught his breath, worried that this would be the one time where it didn’t work.

He watched as Lup and Taako formed in the light in front of him, their hands tightly clasped together. They looked to each other and hugged tightly.

“Sorry bro-bro,” Lup whispered. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I forgot to eat,” Taako responded, sheepishly, earning a playful slap on the back of his head from Lup.

She looked over at Barry, her ears drooping. She then looked to Merle.

“Lup,” Merle started.

“Yeah … Um … Barry? I need to talk with you but …”

Merle nodded and he and Lup left for the sick bay. Barry looked to Taako.

“Sorry dude … Um … If you want, we can wait outside and then you can talk to her?” Taako began, apologetically. “It is pretty important.”

Of course Taako knew whatever it was Lup needed to tell him. They knew everything about each other.

Barry thought back to that day on the beach. He felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Maybe the news wasn’t going to be good after all.

[adorebughead]

For Better or Worse - Part 8

Ok, here we go, time for the drama to commence ;) I hope the wait for this one wasn’t too bad! Nonetheless, I’ve made this chapter extra long and there are tonnes of answers, so I hope that makes up for how shitty I’ve been. I’m feeling super low about my writing again (as always, ugh!) but I really hope you enjoy!

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / PART 5 / PART 6 / PART 7

* Read on AO3 *

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

“So, did you guys talk?” Veronica cried as she sauntered towards the car, glancing back for a second.

Jughead shrugged as he followed. “We did. It’s just… complicated.”

“Isn’t everything?” She laughed, stopping still and turning to face him, causing him to jump at her sudden change in demeanour. She paused. “Listen, if I tell you something, will you not tell Betty?”

He raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms. “I guess that depends on what it is.”

“When Archie called,” she started, “that wasn’t all that he said.”

“What do you mean? What else did he say?”

She looked back at the door that they had just exited, making sure that Betty was still comfortably inside.

“The wedding was a sham,” she continued, as Jughead stared in disbelief and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Literally, everyone has been lying to her.”

“That son of a bitch,” Jughead spat, looking towards the sky as he shook his head, "but I can't say I'm hugely surprised."

Veronica tucked her dark hair behind her ear. “I’m the last person to stick up for Archie Andrews, but I feel as though he might have been put in an impossible situation. Hal Cooper is clearly much more twisted than we gave him credit for.”

“I can’t believe he would do this. Why did he hate me so much?”

“I mean, it’s weird for me now too,” she gulped, “I thought Archie had ended things with me because he genuinely was in love with Betty, but now-”

All of a sudden, an ear-splitting smash and a scream ripped them out of their secret conversation mixed with a mirroring of confusion and distress.

“What the hell,” Jughead exclaimed, bounding back towards the café before he even had a chance to think twice, terrified that Betty was hurt. Before he had even reached the door, she shot out as quickly as she could, bashing into him as she did so. “Betty!” He cried, grabbing onto her arm as she tried forcefully to pull away.

“Let go, Jug,” she bellowed, squirming underneath his grasp, “where did he go!?”

“Who?!”

“Toby,” she replied, as if the answer was obvious, “I saw him.”

“What do you mean you saw him?” Veronica interrupted, a concerned look on her face as she rushed over.

“He was in there, just now,” she cried frantically, “where did he go?!”

“B, are you sure-“

“Of course I’m sure,” she argued. “I’m not crazy.”

“Ok, Betty, slow down,” Veronica said steadily, trying to keep her thoughts as logical as she could without hurting her best friend in the process, “was anyone with him?”

“A woman, possibly,” she shook her head, “I don’t know. It all happened so fast. There were people all around me and I didn’t even see which way they went.”

Jughead was pacing, clutching his temple as he digested the abrupt realisation of what she was saying. “It was really him? You’re sure?”

She stepped closer, grabbing his hand and squeezing it as she looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “It was him, Jug.”

“Then we need to go,” he declared, still holding onto her hand as they hastily made their back over to the car. People were beginning to stare, seemingly they had caused quite the commotion in the space of less than a minute. Betty reached over to grab Veronica’s phone as they drove away from the gaping that surrounded them, not even paying attention to the speed limit, anxiously dialling a number she had known off by heart for the majority of her life.

“Betty, is that you?” A hysterical voice answered almost instantly.

“Mom,” she replied, cutting her off as she began to sob. “Please, listen to me. I know about Toby.”

“Betty, I’m so sorry,” she wept, “I’m so, so sorry-“

“Look, please, we don’t have much time.”

“Where are you?”

“Silvercross,” she replied.

Alice was lost for words for a brief moment, struggling to catch her breath. “What? How did you-“

“Mom, please,” she demanded, “we need your help.“

"Betty, I-"

"What the hell is going on?!"

Just as the words left her lips, they approached the same street of the house with the red door where they had been less than an hour earlier and slowed down, each of them staring in disbelief at the image just a few yards away from them.

“Oh my god,” Jughead croaked, as they eyed up the familiar car parked out front, and the familiar woman stood beside it. She turned, her eyes widening as her arm dropped to her side. Betty flung the car door open and jumped out before it had even had a chance to stop.

“Honey,” Alice said quietly, her eyes occupied by guilt and remorse as her daughter made her way closer. “We should go somewhere to talk.”

She shook her head in response, looking up to the sky as she covered her mouth before clenching her fists at her sides as she always did when the darkness threatened to creep back in. “No, mom, we’re not going anywhere. Enough of the games, enough of the lies; I want my son back.”

Alice’s face dropped. “Betty,” she whispered, “It’s not as easy as that-“

“I am his mother, how dare you take that away from me.” They both began to cry, Betty not even realising that Jughead had gotten out of the car until he had taken a hold of her hands, covering her scars, and pulled her into his chest.

“Please,” he said calmly, closing his eyes and exhaling through his nose, his attention switching to Alice once more, “we need answers, and we need them now.”

She nodded, the tears seamlessly falling down her pink blushed cheeks, searching for the right words as her gaze interchanged between the two of them.

“Eight years, mom,” Betty said, her voice a little weaker than it had been before, “how could you have hidden all of this from me for that amount of time? You saw me cry myself to asleep, I became a different person, I was numb; there were days when I couldn’t even get out of bed.”

“I know,” Alice bawled, unable to look her in the eye as she replayed the bad days over in her head, the ones that she had tried so hard to repress. The ones where she would knock on her daughter’s door, urging her to eat something, then return a few hours later to see she hadn’t even moved an inch, the food left cold and utterly untouched.

“What was so bad that you allowed this to happen?” Betty continued. “What did you do?”

Alice shifted on the spot, looking down as if ashamed, actively avoiding the question she had been presented with. Suddenly, everything was moving so quickly, as though it were a domino effect that none of them could control.

“I know that you may never forgive me,” she breathed, “but it’s true. Your son is alive.”

Betty closed her eyes as she sank further into Jughead’s chest, the inevitable confirmation only worsening the feeling in the pit of her stomach. She held onto him and he held onto her even tighter. Her breath deepened as he stroked her hair in an attempt to soothe her slightly. There were a few moments of utter silence, nobody quite knowing what to say or do next.

“Can we meet him?” He asked at last, his voice breaking as the words left his lips.

Before Alice could provide a response, the red front door had swung open, and a woman in her late fifties stood still in her tracks. Taking a few moments to process the image before her, she made it down the steps and cautiously walked closer to the small gathering of people on her front lawn.

“Marie,” Alice uttered.

“Alice,” she replied, “this is quite inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?” Betty interjected. “What’s inappropriate is you keeping our son from us for eight years.”

“You don’t remember me, do you?” She replied, keeping her voice low.

The silence that followed spoke more than any amount of words could have done, because, no, Betty did not remember a thing, and she didn't even know what she was supposed to be remembering at all.

“Marie is my sister,” Alice established, wiping the remains of tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, the four words startling and unexpected. “You and Polly spent all of your summers here until you were around seven years old.”

She looked at the house again, as if seeing it for the first time, in an entirely new light, then back at the woman she could’ve sworn she had never seen in her life before now. There was an immediate feeling of nostalgia creeping its way in, as if it had been waiting for permission to come out. “Wh- what? What are you talking about? No, we didn’t,” the declaration sounding more like a question as she began to doubt her own reminiscences.

“If you come inside, we can talk,” Marie added, nervously looking around as to make sure the neighbours weren’t watching them and judging from afar.

Betty drew her attention to Jughead, the both of them tinged with an identical feeling of sadness and confusion. After a few moments, he nodded, resting a hand on her back as they hesitantly followed inside, Veronica waiting back in the car and looking down when they momentarily glanced her way.

“Where is he?” Betty asked as soon as they had shut the front door behind them. Her hands were shaking and her heart was pounding against her chest.

Marie flinched at her impulsive enquiry. “He’s in his room, but please, we need to talk first. This is going to be a lot for him, too.”

“Ok,” she replied hesitantly, as they headed further inside. Upon entering the living room, which was filled with photographs in perfectly dusted frames on perfectly dusted shelves, Betty felt that familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“You can look at them, if you’d like,” Marie murmured, prompting Betty to edge a little closer and study all of the years that she���d missed out on in the form of captured memories. Jughead retreated to the back of the room, cautious to join her; cautious to even step a centimetre closer.

Betty allowed her eyes to run over the faded snapshots of her baby as a toddler, taking his first steps, riding his first bike, standing tall in his uniform on his first day of school. He looked just like his father, there was no doubt about it, but those piercing green eyes that mirrored her own were what she’d remembered the most. A tear spilled down her cheek as her breath caught in her throat.

“Please,” she breathed, calming herself down after her previous outburst outside, her exhaustion displaying in her trembling tone, “can you just tell us what’s going on? Why don’t I remember you? Why don't I remember any of this?”

“Sit down,” Alice said softly, Betty’s eyes flickering to Jughead, who was leaning against the door in his leather jacket just like he had done the day of her wedding. He looked just as scared, if not worse. She perched at the end of an arm chair beside the half empty sofa her mother resided on, hesitant to get too close, and she placed her hands in her lap. She stayed silent, picking at the skin around her fingernails as she looked at her mother and listened.

“Nobody except your father knows this, but I grew up on the Southside,” she began, prompting a sudden turn of the head from Jughead, before she took a deep breath. “I lived with my parents and my sister, Marie. We didn't have much money, hardly anything at all, actually, and it wasn’t long before I found myself caught up in alcohol, drugs, violence; you name it. I did it."

She sighed, keeping her head down. "I was reckless. I got myself involved with the wrong crowd from as young as I can remember. I ended up falling in love with a Southside serpent, and, fleetingly, I became one myself.”

Betty’s mouth opened slightly, her gasp silent and consuming, the intense amounts of unforeseen information hitting her at full force.

“I don't even know who that person is anymore,” Alice muttered, her eyes shooting up and then falling back down before she continued.

“I was only sixteen when I found out that I was pregnant. It wasn't planned and I was terrified; the only person I’d initially told was Marie. My boyfriend at the time didn't want to know, and he had ran a mile before I’d even had the chance to tell him.” She closed her eyes to repress her tears as she exhaled deeply. “I met your father shortly after, and he brought me over to the Northside at an attempt to give me a new life. I got rid of my baby, and I shed my past as quickly as I possibly could. I blocked it all out. I became Alice Cooper, the perfect wife and the perfect mother of the perfect family.”

“Mom-“

“There's not a single day I don't think about it,” she confessed. “When your father and I got married, we had an image to uphold. Your sister had already shamed us once, and your father had been panicking ever since you started dated Jughead, considering his background. When he became a serpent, and when you fell pregnant, something in your dad just snapped. It was like he looked at you and he saw me. The me that I used to be. And he did not like that person.”

“Mom,” Betty said again as she began to cry quietly. “I had no idea. About your past. About any of it.”

“He wanted to take Toby away somehow,” she continued. “He thought that if he got rid of him, and drove Jughead away, he could still mould your life into the way he wanted it. He threatened me and he blackmailed me, saying that he would expose my past and ruin me if I ever told you, or anyone for that matter. He manipulated me, and made me believe that it was the right thing to do, and I think, in some twisted way, he was doing it because he loved you.”

She looked up, finally, her eyes pained. “But I know now that it wasn't right. I knew it as soon as I saw you in your wedding dress. As soon as I saw you and Jughead together before the ceremony. I had to do something, albeit eight years too late, and I didn't care about myself anymore. I still don’t. He can do his worst. There are absolutely no excuses – not for either of us. Toby came here because I didn't know what else to do or where else to go. Hal thought a family on the other side of the country had adopted him, but I lied. The reason you don't remember this place is because your dad didn't approve. He hated all of my family, because of where we'd come from, and he made me stop bringing you here. Polly remembered fragments, but you seemed to forget pretty quickly.”

Marie handed Betty a framed photograph, one she hadn’t initially spotted. Indeed, it was herself and Polly, next to Marie, in front of the bright red door, dated twenty years earlier. Her lip trembled. It was true. All of it.

“And, James?” Jughead asked, straightening his frame as he cleared his throat.

“His name is still Toby,” Alice replied. “We just used the name James in the letters in case your father found them. We figured it would be easier to cover up if it ever happened.”

“He knows you exist,” Marie added as she placed the photograph back in its place. “I've always told him who you are. He’s seen pictures and he knows you’re his parents. He’s just a little too young to fully understand it yet. That’s why I don’t want to rush any of this.”

There were a few moments of silence as they processed everything they'd just been told, broken and mismatched puzzle pieces coming together to create a bigger picture that neither of them had ever imagined. Although the truth still hurt, things were beginning to make sense, if only ever so slightly. Neither of them knew which to address first, or even how to do so.

“We can come back tomorrow,” Jughead uttered, trying to separate his conflicting emotions from what was rational. “We want to see him but, if it’s easier, you know, for him,” he trailed off.

“Yeah,” Betty added after a while, her voice just a whisper. Overwhelmed by how many words she wanted to say, unable to express them all at once. “He's the most important person here.”

Marie nodded, blinking as she looked down, a bittersweet smile appearing only faintly. “Thank you. I think that might be best. I’ll talk to him first. Prepare him. Try to explain things a little better.”

“Ok,” Betty whispered, taking a few moments to allow everything to sink in, struggling to comprehend how she had forgotten seven whole summers from her childhood, wanting to forgive her mother but wondering how she ever could.

"I know you're angry and upset and confused," Marie added, "and those feelings are completely justified. But your mom never wanted to hurt you. Neither of us did."

All that followed was a nod, an acceptance, a tiny feeling of moving forward. They talked for at least an extra hour, both Betty and Jughead constantly aware of the fact that their son was only up a single flight of stairs. Betty had to do everything in her power not to run to him and hold him in her arms again, to kiss his head and do what she was always meant to do. To be a mother. When they finally left, saying their quiet and careful goodbyes, Alice followed them, picking up the pace slightly as she watched a blonde ponytail bouncing further and further away from her. “Betty, Jughead; wait.”

“I’m so sorry,” she stuttered, looking at the both of them with regret and sincerity. “There are no words to explain it. No amount of excuses. I just hope someday you might be able to understand, and you might be able to forgive me.”

“I just need some time,” Betty admitted, receiving an understanding nod in response, swallowing as she asked the question she’d been trying so desperately to avoid. “Does Dad know? That we’re here? Does he know anything?”

“No,” Alice replied firmly, wincing at the thought. “I'll talk to him eventually, but I think it might be best to leave him out of it for now.”

Betty let out a faint smile, keeping her hands to herself but allowing a flicker of warmth to fleetingly appear in her eyes. She felt for her mom, she ached for the stories of her past that she had known nothing about, and she wanted to forgive her, but she knew that she wasn’t ready. Not yet. "Ok," she said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And as they drove away, she could've sworn she saw a little head peeking trough the curtains of the window on the top floor.

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

After returning to the motel, Jughead had wandered off to a nearby riverbank in order to clear his head, before his phone had started to ring. Once he had answered, talked, listened, and hung up, he sat and inhaled the solitude that he had been so desperately craving after the craziest day of his entire life, trying to digest the abrupt changes that were coming from all angles all at once. He wanted to stay strong for Betty, but he was scared. He couldn’t even remember how to be a father, and now, suddenly, he had to be. The whole thing had just spilled out before him, and he had gone into a slight state of shock. For more reasons than one.

“Hey,” Betty said softly, walking over from a small path in the distance, “I was wondering where you'd got to.”

Jughead glimpsed up from his depth of thought, his face softening as Betty slipped in the space beside him.

“Yeah, sorry,” he replied, “I just needed a moment.”

Hooking her arm through his, she rested her head on his shoulder and admired the fragments of the sunlight glistening along the lake before them.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked, before he turned his head slightly and kissed her hair. "You know, aside from the obvious?

“A girl called Betty Cooper, mainly,” he replied sheepishly.

“Oh, really?” She teased. “She sounds like a catch.”

“She’s not half bad,” he replied, smiling before looking down at his hands.

Betty sat up, studying his face and placing her hand over his, causing him to look back up at her. “I think it’ll be ok, you know? Tomorrow. I know it’s going to be overwhelming, and honestly I’m still wrapping my head around the whole thing, but-”

“Listen, Betty-“

“Even though it’s been eight years, and we’ve missed a hell of a lot, I think it’s comforting to know that we have a life time to make up for it. I called Polly and she remembers Marie. She remembers the summers we spent there. Strangely, it all adds up. I know it's a lot and it's going to be really difficult, but I just don’t want to be angry anymore, Jug, you know? I don't think it's fair on him. Or us."

“Betty,” he repeated.

“What?”

“Eva called.”

“Eva?” She crumpled her face in confusion, the name leaving a bitter taste in her mouth as she realised who he was referring to. “Oh, Eva.”

He looked down, almost regretting bringing it up, so desperate to stay in their little bubble for as long as possible. “Yeah.”

“Did you tell her anything?”

“Not yet,” he muttered.

“Yet?”

“I need to go back and sort a few things.”

Betty’s body seized up, swallowing as she looked towards the floor. “Oh. When?”

“As soon as I can. As soon as things have settled a bit.”

“Ok,” she mumbled, “well, are you coming back?”

“What? Yes,” he insisted, interlacing his fingers with hers, “of course I am.”

“We can’t just introduce ourselves to Toby and then run off.”

“I know that.”

She paused. “What else did she say?”

Jughead flinched, sighing as he returned his gaze to the water. “Nothing. Why?”

“You forget how well I know you,” she said. “I can tell when you’re lying.”

He dropped her hand, his expression becoming visibly distressed. “It’s nothing, Betty.”

“Ok,” she said, before allowing the silence to pass naturally, too exhausted for another argument. Wanting nothing less than to talk about the boy she loved’s soon-to-be-ex wife.

“Well, tomorrow’s the big day,” she declared, brushing off the strange atmosphere that had just appeared out of nowhere. “I guess we should go to bed.”

“Hey,” he choked as she stood up and smoothed her skirt down, a hint of regret in his voice for the way he’d snapped at her.

“Yeah?”

He swallowed, looking at the beauty and serenity of the lake, then back up at the face that had been permanently imprinted in his brain for as long as he could recall. The air was warm, with just a slight breeze brushing against their cheeks. “I love you, you know?”

She was taken aback, not expecting the words to come out of his mouth so suddenly, especially after how up and down they had been for the previous couple of days. She took a few seconds to catch her breath, the cinematic warmth of the sunset painting their faces a pink and orange hue.

“I was starting to worry,” she smiled playfully, kneeling down and raising her hand to stroke his cheek. “I love you, too. And I want nothing more than to make this work.”

He returned the smile, tinted with something melancholic, planting a soft kiss on her lips and absorbing every last second of it. Every last second of her.

“Are you coming to bed?” She breathed.

“You go ahead,” he replied softly, “I’ll be right there.”

“Ok,” she smiled tentatively, knowing something wasn’t right but trying so hard to ignore it, almost considering just staying put and making the most of every moment they had together, before turning on her heel and retreating to the motel. Jughead watched after her and bit his lip, the remnants of a second life creeping its way into his mind as he replayed Eva’s earlier words in his head.

The words that wouldn’t budge. The words that were tearing into him at every passing moment. The words that suddenly made an impossible situation even more complicated than it already was.

He was sinking and only one hand was reaching in to save him, whilst the other was pulling him even further under. He couldn’t even stop it. He was drowning.

"I’m pregnant.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

If you’re taking more prompts, would you write What Happens at Cloud Recesses for the “JGY kills NHS and NMJ goes on a warpath” au? And perhaps more importantly, Nie brothers reunion ft. fierce corpse!Nie Huaisang? I need to know that it turns out okayish...

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 (Blackened!NMJ aka Digging Graves)

--

Home wasn’t quite the same home anymore.

Oh, the familiar contours were unchanged: the thick stone walls, the warmth from the tapestries, the intricate decorations on the few pieces of furniture – the Unclean Realm was beautiful and familiar as ever, and seeing it made Nie Huaisang’s non-functioning heart feel warm.

But the people –

The first shichen of Nie Huaisang’s triumphant return home were spent settling Lan Xichen into his usual guest quarters – he asked about a cell and was told they were all occupied with Nie Huaisang’s spare fans, which very nearly made him look amused for half a moment before he remembered how terrible everything was – and putting Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian into another set of guest quarters so that they could work out their little hand-holding-and-abrupt-realization-of-feelings dilemma in private.

The next three were spent dealing with the fact that Nie Huaisang’s entire Sect wanted to talk to him.

Or even just look at him, with expressions of such deep and intense relief – as though staring at a priceless spiritual treasure that could save their lives – that Nie Huaisang felt deeply uncomfortable. Yet the ones who stared at him were still better than the ones who seemed to need to find a reason to touch him, as if they could rub good luck off of him.

It was bizarre.

He was a fierce corpse. The sabers’ instinctive attempts to obliterate him felt much more natural.

It took him until late in the evening to finally escape the crowd.

Luckily, sleep was now apparently optional - or possibly not an option at all, he wasn’t sure, he hadn’t really quizzed Wei Wuxian about the exact details of fierce corpse-hood yet and anyway when he did he intended to bring up a list of complaints and suggested improvements he’d started working on in the back of his mind – so he still had energy to do what he’d wanted to do all along.

Talk to Nie Mingjue.

Nie Huaisang’s da-ge had been by his side every second until they reached the Unclean Realm, eventually retreating to go rest at Nie Huaisang’s urging and eventual ordering, but he hadn’t – he hadn’t said anything. He’d had one of Nie Huaisang’s fans on him, he’d brought out the sabers for him, destroyed the Jin sect for him, he’d done so much –

But he hadn’t said anything.

Nie Huaisang went to find him.

It took a while, since Nie Mingjue had apparently taken refuge in Nie Huaisang’s bedroom instead of his own and Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have guessed that in a thousand years – though perhaps he should have.

“Da-ge?” he said hesitantly, walking up to where Nie Mingjue was sitting on the bed, vacantly staring at one of the walls without seeing a single one of the paintings Nie Huaisang had put there.

Nie Huaisang still wasn’t used to the way his brother’s face seemed vacant of emotion. His brother had always been full of life, always angry or glad or something – even if he tried to control himself he couldn’t, his eyes always giving him away, and even those who didn’t know him, the ones who mistakenly thought he was nothing but angry, which couldn’t be further from the truth, even they didn’t think he was…

Like this.

“Da-ge?”

Nie Mingjue seemed to hear him at last, turning to look at him.

“Huaisang,” he said, and there was the slightest tremor in his voice: fear and pain and loss, and so much of it that it was overwhelming him.

Nie Huaisang sat next to him, leaning over until their shoulders were touching.

He felt helpless.

He’d known his brother loved him, of course. They weren’t like the Jiang sect, where one side tried to show their affection by lecturing and the other side tried to show it through acts of sacrifice and neither side understood the other; they weren’t like the Jin sect, all smiles hidden behind daggers and not one of them actually liking any of the others; they weren’t even like the Lan sect, two brothers so closely attuned that they might almost have been twins born a few years apart, rarely butting heads over anything.

No: Nie Mingjue chased and Nie Huaisang fled; Nie Huaisang complained and Nie Mingjue scolded; Nie Huaisang teased and Nie Mingjue pretended he didn’t laugh. Through it all, his brother always tried to do right by him, sometimes spoiling him and sometimes being too strict with him – a child raising another child, fumbling through it clumsily but earnestly, determined to do the job because to give Nie Huaisang to anyone else to raise would have been to give him up entirely.

Because the Nie sect only believed in adoption when it could be done whole-heartedly. Giving Nie Huaisang to be the son of some cousin or another would have made someone else the heir, and that had always been unacceptable to Nie Mingjue. Not once, no matter how useless Nie Huaisang proved himself to be, had Nie Mingjue ever wavered in his belief that Nie Huaisang deserved everything good in the world.

No matter what things were said about them – that they were only half-brothers, that it was odd that Nie Mingjue kept him by his side, that it was such a shame Nie Huaisang was such a waste of time – it had never mattered one bit.

Yes, Nie Huaisang had always known his brother loved him.

He’d lived a happy life, for the most part, felt safe and content knowing that no matter what happened, he had his brother to hold up the world for him. And now his brother needed him, not the other way around, and he didn’t know what to do.

Helpless to help, again.

Nie Huaisang had only just turned seven when their father had died, but he remembered more of it than he would like. The person Nie Huaisang had known as his father had been lost forever the moment his saber shattered, Wen Ruohan’s poisonous touch and smug smile a looming shadow behind it, but in fact it had been another six months before he’d actually passed away. Six terrible months of madness and pain, which to Nie Huaisang were mostly just faint snatches of angry voices and bruises littering his arms because his father no longer had the ability to remember that he was just a child that couldn’t fight back – Nie Mingjue had kept him as far away from it all as he possibly could, taken the brunt of it in a way Nie Huaisang hadn’t really understood as a child, but there was no escaping it.

Nie Huaisang remembered it being a relief when word had gone out that the Sect Leader had died: he’d been too young to properly understand filial piety back then, to understand that there would be three years of mourning and a lifetime seeking revenge awaiting them; all he’d thought was that he could finally stop hiding in his room all the time, keeping his voice down to try to avoid anyone noticing that he existed – Nie Mingjue had locked and barricaded the door so no one (one person in particular) could get in while in a frenzied rage, and the only way in and out being the high window that his brother smuggled him through for a few short outings in the middle of the night when it was a little more safe.

He’d made his way out of his room on his own, somehow, and run to find his brother, foolishly thinking of sharing the good news that the monster was gone.

Instead, he’d found his brother kneeling on the floor in one of the inside rooms that had once been their father’s. There had been blood everywhere, Nie Mingjue’s precious saber discarded on the floor as if it were nothing but trash, and his brother’s arms had been wrapped around himself as if he’d been cold, his whole body shaking uncontrollably as if he were suffering from some sort of fit.

Nie Huaisang had run up to him and asked him if he was all right, if something had happened, if it was going to be okay, and the only thing his brother said in response, repeating it over and over again as if it were the only words he knew, was I don’t know…

Nie Huaisang hadn’t been able to do anything back then – and now he was fully grown, having lived and even died, and he was just as helpless to help his brother’s pain as he’d been when he was a child.

He’d never felt more useless than he did now.

“Da-ge…”

His brother suddenly moved, pulling Nie Huaisang into his arms as if he were a little child again. “Huaisang,” his brother said, and his voice was truly shaking now. “Huaisang, forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” Nie Huaisang asked, astonished, even as his arms came up around his brother, letting him bury his face into his shoulder as he shuddered and wept as if he were the child. “For what?”

“I lost you,” his brother whispered. “I lost you, I failed you, you were gone –”

“You didn’t lose me, you didn’t fail me, you didn’t! I’m here now, aren’t I? You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t know what would happen. You had no way to know that he would violate his oath to you – that he’d fix his attention on me. You even avenged me – okay, perhaps you overdid it a little bit –”

It was more than a little bit.

Nie Huaisang’s brother had achieved in a single murderous night what Wen Ruohan had struggled for years to accomplish and still failed: with the Wens gone, the Jins gone, the Jiang and Lan sects still rebuilding, there was only one sect with any power or influence left, and now everyone knew it.

As he’d learned from the countless hours he’d spent with his sect, the world had already started changing even while they’d all been preoccupied with their own personal dramas: Nie sect commanders were already starting to be asked questions as if they were everyone’s commanders; their forces had been forcefully swollen by any number of overly-eager volunteers, who were currently being sent out to sweep the land for evil if for no other reason than to keep them too busy to ask the aforementioned questions; and one of the inner sect disciples in charge of correspondence had casually mentioned to Nie Huaisang the truly monstrous pile of applications from small sects seeking to officially register as loyal subordinate sects under Qinghe Nie.

There was even, it seemed, a very stiff one from Jiang Cheng himself, asking for a formal acknowledgment of the new state of affairs –

If Nie Huaisang had known about everything, he might have been a little less eager to take Lan Xichen into custody. He didn’t actually think Lan Xichen was to blame for his sworn brother’s actions, but he did think it was a good idea to have a proper trial on the subject. Lan Xichen needed the cleanness of a trial, of judgment and punishment, to wash away the filth that his sworn brother had left him covered in – it was the ambiguity, the questions, that would be the true torment. Only once everything was acknowledged, the burning light of the truth shining on all the dark places, would he be able to accept that his only crime had been trusting the wrong person for all the right reasons.

Only then would he be able to move on.

Only then would Nie Mingjue be able to move on, from the role he had also played: Jin Guangyao had been his sworn brother as well, and he’d been the one to give permission for Nie Huaisang to go.

Only then would Nie Huaisang be able to forgive himself for having not figured it out in time to stop – all of this.

He’d been stupid. He’d known Jin Guangyao’s loyalties were with the Lanling Jin, that tensions were escalating – he’d even known, as his brother had learned the hard way, that Jin Guangyao was more ruthless than he appeared. And yet he’d liked Jin Guangyao’s indulgence, his little gifts, his sympathy, and that had been enough for him to ignore the rest; he hadn’t thought for one minute to be worried.

He’d never thought Jin Guangyao would kill him.

Just as he’d never thought Jin Guangyao would hurt Nie Mingjue in such a vile way, slowly driving him insane with insidious poison. Based on the little the Lan brothers had said on the way back, the song would have been forcing Nie Mingjue back, step by slow step, into a qi deviation, the ultimate fate of their family, and the mere thought of it put the taste of bile and ashes into Nie Huaisang’s mouth.

If he hadn’t been just that little bit too curious, his brother might have one day – might have ended up just like –

He didn’t want to think about it. As a child, he’d had nightmares about it for months, both during and after – panic attacks during the day, triggered by loud noises or sudden movements or not seeing his brother for too long, and terrors at night that kept him awake and trembling even as he took up space in his brother���s bed, keeping the exhausted newly appointed sect leader from getting any rest himself.

He’d spent hours staring at his brother’s face, afraid that if he blinked, his brother’s eyes would become bloodshot, his cheeks flushed, veins pulsing even as they shattered from the strain of ceaseless rage –

Jin Guangyao would have done that on purpose.

And Nie Huaisang had very nearly missed it – for what? A smile? Not having to train? Some pretty fans?

He would rather they had all been burned.

Yes, they needed a trial. They all did, to wash themselves clean.

Perhaps insisting on a trial was just Nie Huaisang finally living up to their family heritage. After all, their sect had always put justice first and foremost, justice and its close cousin revenge; it was only once justice was accomplished, the scales balanced, that they could move on to healing and purification, to building up again from a new and better foundation.

But putting aside what the trial would mean to them all personally, Nie Huaisang had to admit that he hadn’t thought about the impact of it, the wider implications. How did this all look to the rest of the world? The Lan sect’s leader, willing submitting himself to trial at their hands – acknowledging the Nie sect’s right to lay judgment on his head –

Even if they didn’t want to be in charge, they weren’t going to have much of a choice.

“…we’re going to have so much work to do,” Nie Huaisang said out loud, reaching the conclusion with a grimace. They had a responsibility, now. He knew his brother: his brother would never accept the right to rule without the duty of care, and that meant that they had to care about the whole world…

He thought he knew his brother, anyway –

No. No.

He still knew him.

This was still his da-ge, still Nie Mingjue – a little broken, a little damaged, all those shattered pieces put back together in a way that would never be the same again, but still his brother.

(It wasn’t like their father again. It wasn’t.)

His brother huffed, his own quiet version of a laugh; his breath was warm against Nie Huaisang’s neck, and Nie Huaisang knew that if he embraced his brother the same way, it wouldn’t be the same. “You would be most concerned about the prospect of paperwork, wouldn’t you?”

It wasn’t what Nie Huaisang was most concerned about, not by a long shot, but he’d put years of effort into being a shameless dandy that he wasn’t going to throw away, so he forced a laugh and said, “I mean, can you imagine? Our ancestors would roll over in their graves to think of a fierce corpse filling out orders on behalf of the sect –”

“I broke open the graves,” Nie Mingjue said, and Nie Huaisang stopped, because yes, he had, hadn’t he?

He’d desecrated the tombs of their ancestors, and all of it for Nie Huaisang.

“I don’t regret it,” Nie Mingjue said. “Let me be punished or cursed as an unfilial child or a disgrace to our name; I don’t care. It was worth it to give them what they deserved – that and more, for what they did to you. We all deserve to pay.”

He was going to have to be very cautious in the sort of things he said or did for a while, Nie Huaisang realized. Whether it was because of what had happened to him, or maybe the poisoned music had already pushed Nie Mingjue too far down that road to the dead end – yes, his brother was still his brother, still beloved, but there was a streak of bitter madness in him now, one that would have to be very carefully tended to if Nie Huaisang wanted to see his brother fully restored to health and sanity.

If he didn’t want to see more devastation.

If he didn’t want to see his brother turn Baxia onto himself, in the end.

“You avenged me,” Nie Huaisang finally said. “You avenged me, and you had Wei-xiong bring me back – you did everything you needed to do. You did it, da-ge. You can – you can rest now, okay? You did everything you needed to do, and now it’s my turn to handle things for a while.”

His brother laughed a little at the thought of Nie Huaisang handling – well, anything, and Nie Huaisang supposed he deserved that, but in the end he managed to coax his brother to finally get some sleep, lying down beside him on his own bed like they hadn’t since he’d grown out of childhood.

Nie Huaisang was pretty sure it was the first actual sleep his brother had had since he’d died.

He himself did not sleep.

He looked up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom, and for the first time in his life –

He began to plan.

[ablogintwoacts]

Luke 2:8-20, a Retelling

“Don’t be scared...” the creature, burning with a white hot light that burned the eyes of the huddled group of screaming and cussing men and women, wearing what looked like dilapidated army boots and metal arm guards and a grin so wide and fierce it looked like it was painted on, looked like it could split the damn thing’s face clean open, might as well have told them to stop breathing and drop dead altogether (”I thought I would”, Steven said later, huddled around a small fire comprised of newspapers and nursing a too warm can of cheap beer, “thought I’d fall over and die of pure damn fright when...he(?) came out of nowhere, like a bolt of lightning, and didn’t give us a minute before it started rambling all of that stuff off to us”). “Don’t be scared; I’m about to tell you something that is going to change the entire world. You’re tired of fake news, the world ending, the government poisoning you, some new global superpower threatening to take over? I’ve got news that makes all of that as insignificant as the smallest algae on the ocean floor is compared to the most massive, ancient, exploding supernova.” (Blank stares, none of them had finished high school, Juan worked as a janitor, Chelsea danced in a seedy topless bar, Pam cleaned motel rooms, Steven held a cardboard sign and smoked Pall Malls under the overpass, all of them praying to see a new day dawn, praying to a God they were pretty damn sure had forgotten all of them a long time ago, and was never going to wreak the holy and joyful havoc He had swore He would). The angel (that’s what he/she/xe was and is) laughed; it wasn’t a nasty or mocking laugh, the laugh of bankers picking your pockets and sneering as your granny wept over being evicted from her own home, or the superior snicker of pot bellied bad breathed business men sticking dollars in your g string like they owned the skin they were touching. It was a laugh like Xe couldn’t contain all of the joy inside of them, like words or tears or chords or poems could never really get across, you had to BE there, it was the laugh of a new mom in the delivery room hearing their baby’s first wail, the laugh of a nervous and shy groom at the altar almost dropping the ring, a laugh that made you want to laugh with them and share in whatever it was that made It light up like a rocket launching into the damn sky. “This is real news my friends, this is good news for every man woman and kid on this earth. Nothing will ever be the same again, and you wouldn’t WANT it to be.” “Well, what is it then?” Pam blurted out, still  clutching Steven’s arm so hard he was sure he’d have nail marks for days. The angel went preternaturally still, and gave them a look full of such gravity that Chelsea finally shut up her terrified under the breath whimpering, and they all looked slowly at one another before turning, with an almost collective intake of breath, to face the angel. “Tonight, in the town of David, a Savior has been born. The one who is going to save your lives, save the whole world...the Messiah, (the angel smiled almost wryly and lifted an eyebrow like they were considering telling a very under appreciated joke) the Lord, you know.” Juan let out a soft gasp, his clenched fist going straight to his mouth, like he was going to start crying any second and was trying to hold himself together. “And I’m here to be your sign, to point you to all of this” (Xe spread out their hands in a gesture somewhere between a courtly bow and jazz hands). “You’ll find the baby in the free clinic across from Bethlehem Square; his mother is named Mary Nazarene and she’s...you’ll never meet anyone else quite like her; her fiancé Joseph will be with her, you might have a bit of trouble getting close to her with him there, he’s incredibly protective of them, you know. I should also warn you, you won’t find some magnificent or glamorous scene, that place is so crowded and strapped for resources they couldn’t even get a proper cradle..crib, I think you call them these days? It’s difficult to evolve with the ever changing vernacular. He’s lying in a  cardboard box of all things, that they cobbled together to make a baby bed.” Before they had time to even process these strange proclamations, an entire HOST of these strange heavenly beings appeared, all in their mismatched military garb, and they started SHOUTING and ROARING praises to God, at a volume and with a ferocity that was more akin to a battle victory than some singing choir (Chelsea would never forget the sight and sound of one of the angels, with long hair and camo pants and a distinctively feminine appearance, doing some kind of odd but jubilant dance, stomping their feet and tilting their head back, the shout reverberating from their throat “GLORY IN THE HIIIIIGHEST!”) and then...wonder of many of the night’s wonders, the heavenly host turned to the bedraggled group of “ne’er do wells” who had been given the ultimate privilege of being the first to hear about this historic moment, the freaking birthday of the Liberator Himself...and the Host started blessing THEM, each one of them, blessing them with the favor and pleasure of the Lord of Hosts Himself, (Juan had completely lost his composure at this point and was blubbering like a toddler, as one of the angels stared him dead in the eye, and told him “Be at peace, have and receive Peace itself, our Father in Heaven approves and supports, and HONORS you, Juan. You and so many of your brothers and sisters on this Earth.” And just as quickly as the first angel had appeared, all of them disappeared. After almost five minutes of emotional whip lash, and shaky hands struggling to light cigarettes, and quiet sob fests and prostrated stumblingly worded but wholehearted prayers, Steven cleared his throat and turned to his friends. “Well, I guess we need to make a visit to Bethlehem Square, and find that clinic.” They all stared at him, but he said, with more clarity than they had ever heard him speak with, “We have to go. We have to see this thing that happened. I mean, God Himself told us..basically.” And so they set off, and that night a small and not quite clean enough hospital bed had four men and women, who were incidentally (and perhaps, importantly, for this story) homeless, gathered around staring and pointing and cooing at the red faced newborn baby in his teenage mother’s arms. And it was loud, and disorganized, and messy, and there were lots of strange smells (stale beer and disinfectant and sweat and baby lotion) and Mary should have been embarrassed, horrified, confused, exhausted beyond belief...but she wasn’t, and she filed the events of the night and faces of the men and women away in her mind, to take out and examine at another time, on another day. And it wasn’t a silent night, and it should have been mundane, at the very most it could have been simply an unusual story for the night staff at the clinic to talk over by the vending machine...but it was a night that did, as the grinning, flame eyed angel in army boots said, change the world. Gloria in excelsis Deo. 

[chocolatequeennk]

Forever and Never Apart, 18/42

Summary: After taking a year to recover from the Master, the Doctor and Rose are ready to travel again. But Time keeps pushing them forward, and instead of going back to their old life, they slowly realise that they’re stepping into a new life. Friends new and old are meeting on the TARDIS, and when the stars start going out, the Doctor and Rose face the biggest change of all: the return of Bad Wolf.

Series 4 with Rose, part 7 of Being to Timelessness; sequel to Taking Time (AO3 | FF.NET | TSP)

Betaed by @lastbluetardis, @rudennotgingr, @jabber-who-key, and @pellaaearien. Thank you so much!

This fills the “beginnings” prompt on @legendslikestardust and the Woman Wept missing moment prompt on @doctorroseprompts

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10| Ch 11 | Ch 12 | Ch 13 | Ch 14 | Ch 15 | Ch 16 | Ch 17

Chapter Eighteen: Whole New Worlds

While Rose was saying goodbye to Martha, the Doctor moved around the console, setting the coordinates for the first planet he wanted to show Jenny. He wanted to impress her on her first trip out, and it had only taken him a moment to settle on a destination.

As he adjusted the final dial, she came over and peered down at the controls. “Are we going to a new planet when Rose gets back?” she asked eagerly.

The TARDIS door opened and Rose stepped inside. The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her, and when she nodded, he grinned down at Jenny. “Who’s ready to see whole new worlds?”

“Me!” Jenny and Rose chorused, broad, toothy smiles stretching across their faces.

The Doctor glanced at Donna, and she rolled her eyes. “Oh, go on then Spaceman. Just try not to land us in the middle of a civil war this time.”

“Oi! That wasn’t my fault—the TARDIS took us there so we could meet Jenny.” He rocked back on his heels and considered that. “Of course, if she hadn’t taken us there, Jenny wouldn’t have been created… bit of a paradox, that is.”

“And doesn’t that just describe your entire life?” Donna snarked.

He winked. “And you love it,” he challenged, pleased when she didn’t deny it. He beckoned for Rose to join him. “What do you think of my chosen destination?”

She looked down at the controls. “Oh, absolutely,” she agreed. “I’ve always wanted to go back.”

Jenny was bouncing on her toes on his other side, and he pointed at the dematerialisation lever. “I think you should have the honour,” he told her.

Her eyes widened. “Do you mean it?” she asked, already reaching for the lever.

“Oh, yes.”

She grinned and grabbed the lever firmly before shoving it into the on position. The time rotor started its slow up-and-down chug as the TARDIS took them through the Vortex to a very special planet.

When they landed and Jenny would have gone rushing out the door, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll want to put a coat on,” he told her, pointing to the rack by the door. There was a bright blue ski jacket waiting for her, alongside the coats Rose and Donna had worn on the Ood Sphere.

Once everyone was suited up, he nodded to Jenny to open the door. Her gasp of amazement when she stepped out into the twilight was gratifying. “Where are we, Dad?”

The word still sent a strange twinge through his hearts, but he was getting used to it. Rose took his hand and squeezed, and he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it.

“This is called Woman Wept,” he told Jenny and Donna as they turned in slow circles, taking in the majestic sight of the frozen sea, waves captured forever in their peaks and troughs.

“What happened here?” Donna asked. “I mean, I’ve heard of an ice age, but that happens too slowly for this.”

“It was a cataclysmic disaster,” Rose explained. “The sun went out in a single moment, freezing the sea in an instant.”

Jenny reached out and touched one of the icy waves. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

Donna found a smooth patch of ice and skated in a small circle. “Oh, I love this,” she admitted. “Not that it isn’t satisfying, stopping civil wars and overturning corrupt governments. But this is what I imagined all those months when I wished I’d gone with you.”

She waved to Jenny. “Come on, don’t just stand there. Try it!”

Jenny took a tentative step onto the ice, and her foot nearly slid out from under her. Donna skated over with her hand out, and Jenny gamely took it, letting her lead her onto the ice.

“Lean forward as you push off,” Donna instructed. “That’s how you stay upright.”

Jenny’s boots weren’t the best suited for ice skating, but the surface of Woman Wept was slick enough to make it work. After a few false starts, she felt confident enough to let go of Donna’s hand, and they were skating a winding path around the waves.

The Doctor and Rose came up alongside them. “Well, what do you think, Jenny?” the Doctor asked. “Whole new worlds? Is it everything you imagined?”

Jenny laughed, the sparkle in her eyes matching her pink cheeks. “Oh, yes,” she said breathlessly.

Donna shook her head. “Oh, that’s just wizard,” she groaned. “Now there are three of you who sound alike.”

“Yep!” the Doctor said, popping the p. “The Doctor, Rose Tyler, and Jenny.”

Jenny tipped her head back and narrowed her eyes. “Do you have a family name, Dad? The humans born out of the machines on Messaline didn’t, but I know they did before they came in the rocket. Is that how we do it?”

The Doctor grimaced. “Time Lord naming conventions are… complicated. Not to mention, I’m the last of my family, and I hadn’t gotten along with them for centuries anyway.”

Rose got his attention over the bond, and when he looked at her, she said, She can use mine, if it’s all right with you.

He smiled at her, then nodded from Jenny to Rose. “When I need a last name, I use Tyler. That’s Rose’s last name.”

Jenny looked eagerly at Rose. “Would that be all right with you, Rose?”

“Yeah, of course,” Rose said easily. “A family name is just one way to say, ‘These people belong together,’ and we definitely belong together.”

Jenny’s dimples deepened as her smile widened, and she skated forward to throw her arms around Rose. “Thank y- Ohhh!” she squealed as her feet slid on the slick ice.

Rose grabbed Jenny’s coat as her arms flailed, trying to regain her balance. After a moment, her feet stopped sliding, and she carefully straightened up.

“All right there?” Rose asked.

Jenny chuckled ruefully. “Yep. I guess I should be more careful, though.”

Donna skated over to them. “Well, even if you fall, what’s the worst that could happen?” She pointed at the ice. “It’s not like this is going to break. So you’d have a bruised bum and a sore ego… or is that the other way around?” She pointed to pattern of waves crashing into each other about ten feet away. “Come on. Let’s look around some more.”

Jenny glanced at the Doctor and Rose over her shoulder before clomping carefully across the ice with Donna.

The wind whistled through the waves as they walked off, and Rose moved closer to the Doctor, taking shelter in his taller frame. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her waist, and she leaned her head back against his chest when he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Remember the first time we came here?” she murmured, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together. “Right after my dad died?”

The Doctor nodded, scraping his stubbled jaw against her cheek. They stood in silence for a long moment as the perpetual twilight cast long shadows over the surface of the planet. A few stars twinkled above, but there was no sun. That star had been wiped out of existence during the last days of the Time War, leaving Woman Wept a rogue planet, captured forever in the moment of its orphanage.

When Rose closed her eyes, she could still hear the Doctor’s voice as he told her the story, his Northern accent getting stronger with his distress. The memory made her heart ache, and she turned in his arms and slid her hands up to link them behind his neck.

“I wished so much that I could do something to make you feel better. I’d been feeling so guilty over my mistake, and you brought me here to put it in perspective. And I—”

“Did what you always do,” the Doctor interrupted. He rested his hands on her hips, though Rose could hardly feel them through the thick wool of her peacoat. “You pointed out the beauty, when I had been focused on the darkness.”

Rose tilted her head, considering that. Her words at the time hadn’t seemed like much, but the Doctor was right—that day had started a pattern they still played out.

The Doctor smiled and pulled her closer. “I was already in love with you,” he told her, his voice low and intimate. “But that was the day I realised I really didn’t know how I’d live without you.”

Rose ran her hands through his hair and let her gaze drift to his lips before meeting his eyes again. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” she breathed, just before his lips touched hers.

oOoOoOoOo

Donna didn’t want to interrupt the Doctor and Rose’s private moment, especially not when she turned around and they were wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing. She rolled her eyes and ducked around the next wave with Jenny, determined to keep exploring a little longer.

However, the cold of Woman Wept slowly worked its way through her heavy parka. Eventually, she felt shivers run down her back and knew it was time to get back inside. And even though Jenny didn’t seem fazed by it, her nose had turned bright red.

“Come on, Jenny,” she said briskly. “I think it’s time for dinner and hot toddies by a roaring fire.”

Jenny’s stomach growled, making them both laugh. “Yeah, all right. Let’s find Dad and Rose.”

“They’re this way,” Donna said, pointing at the thankfully no-longer-kissing couple. She and Jenny crossed half the distance between them, then Donna whistled sharply, getting their attention. “Oi, Doctor!” She jerked her thumb towards the TARDIS. “Time to go inside, I think.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Rose agreed. “Besides, we need to show Jenny around the TARDIS still.”

When they stomped through the TARDIS doors a few minutes later, the ship had considerately raised the temperature in the console room. Donna sighed in relief when the warmth seeped into her bones, but Jenny looked around curiously.

“Is it just me, or is it warmer in here than it was before? Did you turn up the heat before we left, Dad?”

The Doctor shook his head as he draped his coat over a strut. “No, she did that on her own.” He pressed a series of buttons, then threw the dematerialisation lever. Donna held on while she felt the now-familiar shift into the Vortex. “The TARDIS, she’s a little bit…” He tugged on his ear. “Well, she’s sentient.”

Jenny blinked a few times, then she said, “Is she… I thought I was just imagining things, but is she in my head, too?”

Rose grinned and leaned back on the console. “Yep!” she said. “We’ll teach you more about how to communicate with her later, though.”

“I can’t believe this all sounds completely normal to me,” Donna muttered. “Sentient, telepathic spaceships that are bigger on the inside and can go anywhere in time and space… this is my life now.” She shook her head. “But moving on to more pressing matters, I am famished. I haven’t eaten since I had breakfast with Gramps this morning, and that was only a cup of coffee and a pastry.”

The Doctor gestured to the corridor behind her. “Well then, lead the way, Donna Noble.”

oOoOoOoOo

After dinner, Jenny finally got the promised tour. The Doctor loved seeing the excitement grow on his daughter’s face as she realised exactly what the TARDIS was and what she could do.

By the time they reached the room the ship had created for her, Jenny’s eyes were glowing. “This one is mine?” she asked, her hand on the brushed nickel handle.

“It’s yours,” the Doctor confirmed.

She bit her lip, but a squeak of excitement still escaped her when she stepped into her room for the first time. The Doctor shook his head; the TARDIS had replicated a captain’s cabin from an old sailing ship—ideal for a born explorer like Jenny.

The bed was built into the wall on the left side of the room, with drawers that pulled out beneath the bed frame. Bookshelves ran along the opposite wall, filled with books about travel and the various alien species they might meet. She’d turned the far wall into fake windows, matching the large windows most captains had, giving them a view of the sea. Jenny’s windows currently showed the stars as they had appeared from Gallifrey—a none-too-subtle reminder to the Doctor that he still needed to explain some of her heritage to her.

Jenny stood next to the desk in the middle of the room and turned in a circle. “I love it!” She reached for the globe on the desk and made it spin, then laughed in delight. “It’s perfect.” She skipped back over to them and hugged him tight. “Thank you!”

The Doctor laughed. “Don’t thank me, thank the TARDIS.”

“Oh!” Jenny stepped back and looked up at the ceiling. “Thank you!” The lights flashed in response.

“So, if the tour is over,” Donna said, “why don’t we go sit in the library for a bit? Fireplace, hot toddies, comfy chairs to sit in while we talk…”

“Sounds good to me,” Rose said. “It’s been a long day—a relaxing evening would be nice.”

Despite the evening plans being Donna’s idea, the Doctor was unsurprised an hour later when she was the first to turn in. As Rose had said, it had been a long day. Two long days in a row, actually.

Jenny looked at Rose and the Doctor after she left. “How come I’m not tired at all?” she asked. “The bed in my room is nicer than anything the soldiers had on Messaline, but I feel like I could go for another three or four hours before I need to lie down.”

The Doctor chuckled. “You’re not human,” he reminded his daughter. “If you want to know what to expect of your body, don’t compare yourself to Donna.”

A furrow appeared on her forehead. “So Time Lords didn’t need to sleep as much.”

“Correct.”

“Can you tell me anything else?” She glanced between the Doctor and Rose. “Rose told me you’d explain more about why I can feel you in my head.”

The TARDIS hummed before the Doctor could say anything, and he pursed his lips as he considered her suggestion. “Why don’t you come with me?” he said after a moment, putting his glass down and standing up.

Jenny jumped to her feet, and after a quizzical look and a nod in reply, Rose stood up, too. The Doctor led them out of the library, to the door directly across the hall.

He paused before opening it and looked over at Jenny. “One thing we should have explained earlier. Because she’s sentient, she can move things around if she wants, or if they’re needed. This room isn’t normally here. Actually, it’s not usually any place where anyone but me or Rose could find it. But today it’s here, because it’s convenient.”

Jenny stared at the door, her brow drawn up with heavy creases. “All right… I think I understand that.”

The Doctor nodded. Then, unable to help himself, he shifted his attention to Rose as he pushed the door open. Her eyes lit up when she registered the tall, red grass and the rolling hills, and he could remember the moment he’d first seen her in her wedding dress as if it had been yesterday.

My Fortuna, he told her again, taking her hand as they stepped through the doorway into the sunny room.

“This is amazing!” Jenny breathed.

The Doctor blinked; he’d almost forgotten he and Rose weren’t alone.

Jenny reached down and ran her fingers through the red grass. “The TARDIS can make it be outdoors, too?” she asked.

“She’s living, so creating a room with organic material is really fairly simple,” the Doctor explained. “There’s a garden room as well, and probably a few others that have growing things in them.”

He gestured broadly at the hills and the mountains rising in the background. “But this room… this is representation of Gallifrey.”

“Gallifrey,” Jenny repeated. “That’s the name of your world?”

The Doctor looked over the hills covered in red grass to the silver ulanda trees, swaying and chiming gently in the breeze. “Yes. This is where I’m from.”

“If you’re from Gallifrey, why don’t you call yourself a Gallifreyan instead of a Time Lord?”

The Doctor grimaced; there were several ways he could answer that question. “Time Lord is my title,” he finally said, choosing to leave out the confusing part about it also being a sub-species of Gallifreyan. “My species is technically Gallifreyan.”

Jenny’s eyes widened and she looked back and forth between the Doctor and Rose. “And that’s how Rose can be a Time Lord when you said you’re the last one,” she guessed. “Because somehow, she has that title even though she’s biologically a different species.”

The Doctor and Rose both nodded. “That’s right,” Rose said. “It really is a long story, or I’d explain it all right now, but that’s the basics of what happened.”

Jenny chewed on her lip. “So am I a Time Lord, or Gallifreyan?”

The Doctor sighed. “That’s very hard to tell,” he said. “But given a few things, I suspect you’re Gallifreyan.”

A breeze swept up the hill, turning the grass into crimson waves. Above them, the twin suns shone in the burnt orange sky, and down in the valley, the river Lethe flowed between the hills.

It was a surreal experience, to be standing on a planet that had been gone for years, explaining the heritage he’d never felt a part of to the daughter he’d never imagined he would have.

The Doctor could feel Jenny’s curiosity, and he waited for her next question. It wasn’t long in coming.

“So… telepathy is a Gallifreyan ability, then?”

“Yes, it is—and before you ask the next question I see on your face, the way Rose became a Time Lord made her telepathic as well.”

“And it made me the better driver,” Rose teased, nudging him in the ribs.

Jenny was too fixated on her questions to join in the teasing. She nodded once, then focused her gaze on the Doctor. “So could everyone feel each other like this, or is it because you’re my dad?”

The Doctor felt a glimmer of pride at the logical questions Jenny kept coming up with. “First, tell me what you’re picking up from us,” he requested.

Jenny closed her eyes, and a moment later, the Doctor felt her mind reach out to him along the very basic connection that existed between blood relations. His bond with Rose allowed Jenny to connect with her as well, and finally, he felt her prod at the TARDIS’ telepathic presence. After a moment, her eyes opened, and she shrugged. “Mostly I feel that you’re there, like I can see you now. Earlier, on Messaline, I was picking up some emotions, too.”

“Good. That’s good.” The Doctor smiled. “All Gallifreyans were aware of each other telepathically, but the way you’re picking up on strong emotions from us—that’s because we’re family.” He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth. “Since you’re telepathic, we really ought to teach you how to put mental barriers up to prevent anyone from attacking your mind.”

Rose turned to him, a tiny crease in the middle of her forehead. “Will barriers work between the three of us?” she asked.

The Doctor nodded. “Yep!” Jenny was frowning at them in confusion, and he sighed, trying to think of a way to explain. “Telepathic barriers allow you to keep things private,” he said finally. “Basically, they keep anyone from eavesdropping on your thoughts or emotions.”

They reached the top of the hill they’d been climbing, and in the distance, they could see the Citadel, the spires stretching up to the top of the glass dome. “Telepathy was important to Time Lords too,” he added. “It helped us detect and recognise one another, even if we had regenerated.”

Jenny’s brows knit together, and he recognised his mistake before she could ask. “Ah. Right. Regeneration.” He tugged on his ear. Regeneration wasn’t something typically discussed outside of Gallifrey, and he still struggled with that cultural taboo.

Thankfully, Rose was there to come to his rescue. “When Time Lords are mortally wounded, instead of dying, their bodies reform on a cellular level. They don’t look anything alike on the outside, but in their mind and hearts, they’re still the same person.”

Jenny shoved her hands into her pockets. “And that’s why you think I’m a Gallifreyan and not a Time Lord,” she said slowly. “Because I didn’t regenerate when I died.”

The Doctor flinched at Jenny’s bald mention of her death, and for a moment, he was back in the rocket, holding her lifeless body. Before he could get lost in the memory, he felt Rose’s hand on his arm, tethering him in the present. He looked down into her sympathetic eyes and realised for the first time that if she hadn’t been with them on Messaline, he would have left Jenny behind, thinking she was dead.

He swallowed hard and turned back to Jenny and the question he’d left unanswered. “That’s one reason,” he agreed. “But really, you’re better off not being a Time Lord.” He pointed to the Citadel. “Here, I’ll tell you about them, and you’ll understand.”

They sat down in the soft grass and looked across the plain at the domed city rising in the distance as the Doctor told them about the Time Lords—about their determination not to get involved in the destiny of other people, and how one arrogant moment had led to the start of the Time War.

He talked about his own past, too—the people he’d known, both good and bad. Jenny listened with rapt fascination, and her genuine interest pulled stories from the Doctor that he hadn’t thought of in centuries.

When Rose yawned and leaned into him, the Doctor suddenly realised they’d been talking for nearly four hours. “That’s probably enough for now,” he told Jenny. “We can talk more about this later, but between what I’ve already told you and the books I know you have in your room, you’ve got more than enough to work through.”

Jenny sighed, but she got to her feet and brushed off her jeans. “There’s so much to know,” she said.

The Doctor nudged Rose gently, and she blinked up at him, then nodded and let him pull her to her feet. Once they were walking towards the door, he replied to Jenny’s comment.

“There is,” he agreed. “But you don’t have to learn it all today, or even in the next month. You’ve got time, Jenny.”

She nodded, then stopped short when they drew near to the door. The Doctor smiled slightly, knowing what was going through her head. “It looks strange, doesn’t it? Like a door standing in the middle of a meadow.”

Jenny reached for it tentatively, then shook her head when it swung open, revealing the corridor on the other side. “I am going to love living here,” she proclaimed.

The Doctor laughed, but Rose’s chuckle sounded sleepy. He looked down at her, then suggested, “Why don’t you go get ready for bed, love? I’ll show Jenny the way to her room, and then I’ll be right there.”

Rose yawned again, then reached up to kiss his cheek. “All righ’.” she said, then started down the corridor toward their own room.

She’d woken up a little by the time she reached it, enough to hang her clothes up properly and brush her teeth and wash her face instead of tumbling straight into bed. The Doctor came in while she was putting her pyjamas on. His tie was already loose around his neck, and he didn’t waste any time changing for bed.

Rose crawled into bed and waited for him to join her. “Do you think Jenny liked her first trip?” the Doctor asked as he hung his suit up.

She smiled at him. “I think she loved it,” she assured him. “It was very impressive, just like you.” The words triggered a memory, and she pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth while she waited for it to resurface. “Oh! You were going to tell me about the TARDIS purposely skipping that year.”

He turned down the covers on his side of the bed, then lay down on his side. Rose rolled over so they were facing each other, and watched in fascination as a blush spread over his face, going all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“So… it’s possible she misinterpreted something I said,” he confessed.

Rose reached for his hand. “Oh?” she prodded as she laced their fingers together.

“Well…” He brushed his thumb over hers. “Remember, you’d only been travelling with me for two weeks when you asked if you could go back and visit. And you hadn’t been sure about coming with me in the first place. I might have been concerned you would get home and remember all the reasons travelling was a bad idea and decide to stay in London.”

Rose felt her brows furrow together. The fear itself wasn’t news—he’d mentioned that before. But how did it connect to the TARDIS…?

“Oh,” she said when the pieces clicked into place. “So you asked the TARDIS to land on a day when I wouldn’t be tempted to stay behind. An’ she decided to land so far in the future that it would have been almost impossible for me to go back to my old life.”

The Doctor’s freckles stood out against his pink cheeks. “Something like that,” he mumbled. “If I’d known what she would do, I would’ve been more specific.”

Rose scooted forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, then pulled back and smiled at him. “I don’t mind, Doctor,” she assured him. “I never minded missing that year, except for feeling guilty about how worried Mum and Mickey were.”

The Doctor waited, and when the expected wave of longing hit Rose, he pulled her close and offered as much comfort as he could over the bond. Her breath hitched when his hand moved automatically to slowly stroke her hair.

I’m sorry, he told her, pulling her closer into the comfort of the bond.

D’you think I’ll ever see her again?

For once, the Doctor didn’t have an automatic answer. Finally, he sighed. A year ago, I would have said no. A week ago even. But I also would have laughed if anyone had told me I would have a daughter, progenated from a machine. So the truth is, love, I don’t know. The impossible has a way of happening, it seems.

Rose nuzzled into his chest. We do six impossible things before breakfast, right?

He chuckled. We do, but only if we get enough sleep. You’re exhausted, Rose. Get some rest. He kept his hand moving in her hair, and a few minutes later, he felt her breathing deepen.

The Doctor sighed and settled into one of his favourite times of the day. Holding Rose while she slept in his arms was a privilege he would never take for granted.

And after today, he had even more to cherish. The group of friends travelling with them had slowly been transitioning into a unique sort of an extended family, and having his daughter on board with them made that concept a reality.

The Doctor’s time senses hummed, and his hand stilled as he tried to pin down what was coming. The rough current of time that had carried them to Messaline had smoothed out when Jenny stepped into the TARDIS, but as he had considered their family, he’d sensed an eddy in the waters, just out of sight.

Somehow, he had a feeling Jenny would not be the only surprise family Time gave them.

oOoOoOoOo

“Where are we going today?” Jenny asked the next morning when they gathered in the console room after breakfast.

Her father rocked back on his heels, a smirk on his face. “Well,” he drawled, “we could punch in a destination like we did yesterday, or…”

Jenny waited breathlessly for him to finish the sentence, but after a moment, Rose rolled her eyes and nudged him in the side with her elbow. “Just tell her what you’re thinking,” she chided.

A silly grin crossed his face. “Well, the TARDIS has a randomiser button. We can just hit the button, and she’ll decide where to take us today.”

The third presence in Jenny’s mind hummed happily, and Jenny had a feeling the ship would interfere with their plans, even if they set the coordinates. “All right then,” she agreed. “Let her take us someplace.”

Donna looked at the three of them. “You’re all mad,” she declared. “Time Lords must all be mad. Who else would be so excited to just… jump on a plane without any clue of where you were going?”

Rose slid up next to her and nudged her with her elbow. “Oh, come on, Donna—that’s half the fun! Not knowing where we’ll end up… knowing it could be anywhere in time and space…”

Donna rolled her eyes, but Jenny saw her lips curve up in a smile, confirming that Donna’s comments about the travelling were just her way of teasing.  

The Doctor flipped the lever, and the TARDIS chugged her way through the Vortex, landing softly this time. “Jenny?” he said, pointing to the door.

Jenny looked at the door, then back at him. “Do I need a coat this time?”

Her father swung his own brown coat around his shoulders and straightened the lapels. “I have no idea. Why don’t you find out?”

Jenny grinned at him, then skipped to the door, opening it and slipping outside before anyone else was quite ready to leave.

The Doctor was just about to reach for Rose’s hand and offer a cheerful, “Allons-y!” when he felt a sudden wave of uncertainty from Jenny.

“Time to go,” Rose agreed, sensing the same thing. They jogged down the ramp and out the door, trusting Donna to close the door behind them.

Jenny was only a few feet away from the TARDIS, but they’d apparently landed in the middle of a busy town square. Unsurprisingly, that had attracted the attention of the locals, and she was surrounded by a group of grey-skinned aliens, loudly demanding to know where she’d come from.

The Doctor swept into the middle of the group, carefully positioning himself between the largest of the aliens and Jenny. “Hello!” he said brightly. “I’m the Doctor. This is my wife Rose, our friend Donna, and I see you’ve already met my daughter, Jenny.”  

It was only when he felt Jenny’s bright happiness that he realised he’d just introduced her as his daughter. The full introduction had rattled off his tongue so naturally that he hadn’t even thought about it.

He shot her a quick smile, then rocked back on his heels and stared the leader down. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”

[kpoptart216]

My North Star (pt 10)

A/N: I really want this series to end soon. And so it shall. I’m thinking pt 12 will be the end. Look forward to it! Let me know if you want a part 11?? what do you y’all think of the series so far? I love hearing back from you guys, otherwise I don’t really have any motivation to write omg.

Genre: Angst, angst, some more angst. Oh I guess some fluff?

Pairing: Jin x Reader (ft. Hoseok)

Summary: You were in love with your best friend, the one constant in your life. But what happens when a new girls comes along? And a new guy tries to win your heart?

Previous parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Jin wouldn’t- couldn’t, leave you. As soon as the ambulance reached you, it felt like the medics were taking you away from him forever. He begged the medics to take him along with them in the ambulance and they let him sit alongside you.

He held your hand throughout the entire ride and kept saying how sorry he was. How he wanted to turn back time. How it should be him laying there instead of you. How much he loved you and how much he just wanted you to be ok.

When you finally reached the hospital after what seemed to be ages, the medics immediately pulled you out and wheeled you into the OR. The nurses had to pry Jin off of you, telling him over and over that he couldn’t go any further. His knees finally gave out and he slouched against the wall outside the OR, his sobs getting louder and louder.

After over an hour, he finally was starting to come back to his senses and was calling everyone he could think of. He called his family first and explained the situation through his crying. Though they were quite a bit aways, they promised to be there as soon as possible. Once he hung up, he knew he had to call Hoseok. He hesitated to call, not knowing what to tell your boyfriend. But he knew he had to, and forced himself to call him finally.

“H-Ho-Hoseok ah...” he began.

“Hey, Jin! Have you seen Y/N? She’s not answering her phone!” Hoseok answered back. Jin’s throat never felt more dry. 

“H-Hoseok ah. S-S-She...Y/N g-got in-into an a-accident” Jin said, sobbing again. All the guilt boiled over Jin again, knowing that this was all his fault.

“W-what?” Hoseok said after a few seconds. “It’s...It’s not bad right?” he continued. When Jin didn’t answer, Hoseok knew. “W-where are you right now?” he finally asked.

And before Jin knew it, Hoseok was running down the hallways of the hospital, frantically searching for you. Once Hoseok saw Jin slouched up on the wall, Hoseok’s eyes widened at the sight in front of him. Jin’s white shirt was stained with blood everywhere. Even his hands contained your dried blood. But what was worse was the way Jin looked. He looked lifeless, as if the blood on his shirt was his own. 

Hoseok carefully walked up to Jin. “Jin, what happened?” he asked, as tears formed in his eyes.

Jin couldn’t even look up, the guilt overwhelming every fiber of his body. “She...She got hit....hit by a car” Jin said finally. Hoseok flinched at his words. 

“How bad is it?” he asked. 

“I don’t know. She’s been in surgery for over 2 hours, and they haven’t said anything” Jin said. He wanted to rip the doors of the OR open and find the nearest surgeon and ask what was going on. But at the same time, he didn’t want to know, fearing the worst.

At that moment, Jin’s family also arrived. Jin was bombarded with questions, and he didn’t know how long he could keep answering the same questions. Each time he tried to answer, he imagined your lifeless body and it flinched everytime he thought back to that moment.

All of a sudden, the door to the OR opened. “Is the family of Y/N here?” he asked, almost too quietly. 

Everyone turned to the surgeon, not even realizing he had emerged from the room. “We’re her family” said Yuna. 

The doctor walked up to everyone as Jin finally stood up, eyes wide open. 

“Ah, you must be the young man who brought her in” he said. 

“ah..yes. H-How is s-she” Jin asks.

The next few seconds felt like an eternity. The doctor looked around the entire group, holding his silence.

“She lost a lot of blood and she quite a few broken bones. There were times when we thought we were going to lose her during the surgery...” the surgeon begins and Jin could feel what little blood he had in his face drain.

“...but she made it through.” the doctor continued. Jin stared at the surgeon, almost not believing his words.

“So..so she’s ok?” Hoseok asks finally.

What little smile the surgeon had faded as soon as the question was asked.

“She’s been stabalized for now. She took quite a bit of damage to her head. I’m afraid she’s fallen into a coma. I wish I could tell you when she would wake up, or if she will at all, but that’s not in my hands. We’ll transfer her to another room and you can visit her soon. I want you all to prepare your minds” he said, finally walking away.

Hours passed and the entire group sat in silence as they waited for you to be transferred, to another room. Eventually, you were, and Jin’s family were the first to go in and see you. They spent a few minutes inside, praying for your speedy recovery. Hoseok went in after, wanting to spend a few minutes alone. 

He held your hand as tears fell freely from his face. He wished for nothing more than for you to wake up and smile at him again. For you guys to spend your three month anniversary, and the many more to come. He wept quietly, as if the crying would disturb you. Eventually, he couldn’t face you any longer and he too left the room, going to fill out any paperwork that was left.

Jin stood outside your room, not being able to go inside. He couldn’t. He put his hand on the door handle, but couldn’t move it. He couldn’t see you through the small window in the door, and he knew he couldn’t go another minute without seeing you, though. He finally opened the door and walked in slowly.

The second he laid his eyes on you, he dropped to the floor in uncontrollable sobs. There you laid, on the bed. With various things hooked up to you as you breathe in and out slowly. When you should have been out having a good time, smiling that radiant smile of yours, here you were, in the hospital bed. It killed Jin to see you like this. He held your hand, finally clean from all the blood. He tried to make coherent words, but his sobbing didn’t help. He filled the room with his sorry’s and I love you’s, but he knew nothing would help in waking you up.

Eventually, Jin’s family had to literally drag him out of the room. It killed them to see him like this, but they knew the only thing to help him was you waking up.

3 MONTHS LATER

A lot had happened in the last three months. Jin went through a nasty breakup with Kim after finally facing her after he first left the hospital. She felt bad for her actions though as she never once thought that you would end up the way you did. Though she loved Jin, she knew she had no right in trying to fight for him.

Eventually, Jin also told Hoseok about what really went down that night. Hoseok was furious, to say the least. In the midst of Hoseok yelling at Jin, he accidently revealed how you had truly felt about Jin all these years. He hadn’t meant to, but the second the words passed through his lips, he felt a huge weight off of his shoulders.

“Now that you know how she felt, you two should sort whatever it is between you two whenever she wakes up. We all deserve that much, especially her.” Hoseok says. 

Hoseok tried to visit you every chance he got, hoping that you got better. The doctors were quite impressed with how quickly you were healing, but there was no difference when it came to you waking up. You still just laid there.

Jin on the other hand, visited you every day. Every day, he brought some of your favorite things in hopes that you would wake up. And if you woke up, you would wake up to something pleasant. But you showed no sign of waking up. He always held your hand, and brushed the hair off of your face. He would tell you how much he loved you and how much he wanted you to wake up. He kept telling you that once you woke up, there was no way in hell that he was ever letting you go again. Not ever again.

Eventually, a fourth month passes. Jin still visits you everyday, but one day he gets a call from work. “Jin, we’ve been lenient with you thus far, but if you don’t go on this business trip, I can’t guarantee your job.” his boss said, quickly getting to the point. Jin’s brother had to literally force him to leave, assuring him that he would notify him if anything were to change with you. 

The day before leaving on the trip, Jin walked in at night with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He placed them in a small glass vase and put it on the small table beside you. He kissed your forehead lightly. Please wake up Y/N, I can’t live seeing you like this. 

He walked out of the room with heavy steps, not wanting to leave you for an entire two weeks. 

You had once found comfort in the darkness that soon enveloped you once you had been hit by that car, but that very darkness was now scaring you. You had thought that once you died, you would be reunited with your parents, but you were alone. You kept walking in the darkness with only your thoughts to accompany you. 

You remember everything vividly. You wanted to scream, but no sounds came out. You wanted to move, but your body failed to do so. So with no other choice, you sat in the darkness, all alone. 

Please don’t be so cruel to me, God.

After spending what seemed like a lifetime in that darkness, you one day felt different. You felt...ready. Your eyes fluttered open, only to be blinded with the sunlight coming in through the windows. You look to the other side, noticing that you were laying in an empty room.

 Am I dreaming? 

You just lay there, trying to understand what happened. The last thing you remember was laying in the street with someone holding you as they yelled your name. But the next second, here you were, laying on the bed. You look down to see the rest of your body and thankfully you still had all your limbs. You almost smiled, thinking about how dramatic you were being, as if you were in some movie. 

As you continue to look around the room, you hear the door open and turn your head in the direction. 

“Y/N! You’re awake! ” Hoseok almost yells as he runs to your side. He cupped your face and looked at you intently, not believing his eyes. 

“Hi” was all you could manage to say. You were happy to see him, and you were confused as per why he seemed as if you had suddenly grown a tail or something. “I’ll go get the doctors!” he said, running back out.

What’s happening?

You try and think back to what happened last night and immediately you’re filled with sadness. You remember all the harsh words exchanged and how you managed to end up in a crazy car accident. You pull your hands to your head as your head seems like it’s going to split from the pain. 

Tears form in your eyes, but you weren’t sure if it was because of the pain or from the memories. 

The doctor was pleasantly surprised when he found you awake. He talked about what to do from here on out, especially some physical therapy. For the most part, you were ok. He just wanted to run some tests and keep you for a few more days before you could be discharged.

Hoseok was by your side the entire time, making sure to understand each word that left the doctor’s mouth. As soon as the doctor left, he pulled out his phone. “I should probably tell Jin and his family that you’re awake. They have been waiting for months” he says.

“...Months? How long have I been out?” you ask, shocked.

“Y/N, sweetheart, you’ve been asleep for over four months now.” he says as he places his hand on top of your head. 

“oh. It all just feels like it happened in a day” you said. But then you took a moment to really look at yourself. You turned to the small body length mirror and were shocked by how much weight you had lost. How tired you looked. 

“Wow..” you say looking at the mirror. 

“You’re still beautiful” Hoseok says with a smile.

As you continue to look at the mirror, you realize that Hoseok was about to call Jin and that you were in no way or form ready to face him just yet. It might have been four months since the accident happened, but to you, it was only a matter of a few hours. You didn’t want to see Jin now or any time soon, not after what he said.

“Hoseok, don’t call Jin or his family. Please, I can’t see him just yet” you let out.

“But...Y/n he deserves to know that you’re awake. He feels terrible about everything. He’s been here more than I have” he said with a sad smile. 

“p-please” was all you could muster back. You were still very tired and you didn’t have it in you to sit there and argue with Hoseok.

“as you wish” he said, placing his phone down.

A/N: Okay, so I really hope to finish this by part 12. Hope y’all liked this part~ please let me know! do y’all want a part 11?? Can’t wait to finish this series off omg. sorry for all the mistakes, I don’t edit these omg i’m so lazy.