#headstone is a very happy story where nothing bad happens :)

[yellowocaballero]

I am politely begging you to recruit Bernadetta in Headstone.

I can’t handle my purple baby being deep fried in 2 different stories…

Headstone is going to be the right story for you :) ! It is a story about a Byleth who tries to save everybody. Bernie absolutely lives her best life in that fic, as does literally everybody. Except Claude, who is nonstop suffering.

Unfortunately, I did feel as if I had to kill off a significant amount of the Black Eagles in Weekenders (sorry, Caspar!) - I needed Byleth's decision to prioritize the BL's survival to have stakes. Byleth chose their safety over their sanity, and she chose their lives over the BE's. Weekenders isn't a story that saves everybody, sadly, but Byleth did do her best.

The surviving Weekenders Black Eagles are Ferdinand, who was badly wounded by Byleth; Linhardt, who surrendered and became a POW quickly; and Dorothea, who Petra spared. They go on to live long lives after the story. Dorothea becomes a travelling opera star and sings in a lot of low-key digs at Fargus lol, Linhardt gets operation paperclipped and mostly spends his life listening to Ferdinand brag about his son and doing his crest research, and Ferdinand becomes the Duke of the Adrestian Territory. He has a son who is a main character in a lot of the future fic. Derrick is constantly going through it, at all times, always.

I debated it, but I did eventually decide that all of the GD made it. Claude becomes King of Almyra and Petra marries one of his half-sisters, successfully besting him in their long battle of wills and ensnaring him legally into the cult. He never marries, but he does adopt a random street urchin and appoints her heir because he thinks it'll be funny. It's fucking hilarious.

[rileymustdie]

So yk how hawks lost his wings yeah so hm what if it was a different story and the reader was a healer and brought his wings back BUT it hurts her in the process that’s my request if u can do it :)

UGH YOUR MIND

•angst, death, manga spoilers

•you both were a very good match. you both got along together, plus the fact that you were a healer and he was a pro hero that was constantly in fights, yeah he adored you.

• when he would come home all bruised and cut up, you would heal him. it only caused you a small headache, plus you had a happy and snuggly boyfriend after, what could be the problem?

•you never told him that if you overuse your quirk, it hurts you. you didn’t want him to start ignoring his injuries just because he didn’t want to hurt you. the headaches weren’t that bad anyways.

•that is until he loses his wings. the doctors said there was little to no chance of them coming back he was so upset about it and you knew you had to do something. so, you offered to attempt to heal them. his eyes lit up at the offer and so you sat behind him on the bed, trying your best to focus your power on him. now you have a massive headache and nothing even happened. you tell him “maybe it just takes time?” he goes back to sleep, upset. he knows it’s not really your fault and he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up but the thought of having his wings back made him so happy.

•the next day you wake him up and ask if you can try again. you hate seeing him so upset, might as well take a few ibuprofen and get over it. he says yes so you try again, nothing happens. you lean your head on his back with a sigh. “sorry birdie, nothing happened”. he nods and you help him get up to go make breakfast.

•he notices while you were cooking that your eyebrows were furrowed and you looked a bit dizzy. he decides it’s just that you were tired. you go about the rest of your day like normal. hawks calls as many doctors as he can find to see if they can do something about his wings while you work on some household chores. you go to bed, still with the headache

•you continue trying for about a week with no results. finally, you begin to see two small bumps on his back. you tell him and he runs (stumbling a little bit) to the bathroom to see for himself. his face lights up and he picks you up and spins you around, thanking you. you stumble a bit when he puts you down. surely he didn’t put you down that hard, did he? he asks you if something is wrong, but you just brush him off and ask to go cuddle on the couch with a reassuring smile. he guesses he just put you down too hard and you both fall asleep on the couch.

•over the next month, you put more and more power into healing him. for every feather that appears on his back, another dark circle or bruise appears on you. he’s starting to get worried now, but you continue to act like you’re fine and blame it on low iron or just lack of sleep. he listens to you and you continue to heal him, but he keeps his worries in the back of his mind.

• after a few more weeks, he suggests that you should take a break from healing him. his wings are still small and not ready for actual flight, but it’s a large improvement from nothing. you tell him that you’re fine and that you need to keep healing him so he can go back to being a hero. he still tells you no, that he wants to wait until you’re feeling better. (keep in mind that you still haven’t told him that it’s hurting you) you agree with him and you go to bed that night.

•little did he know, you still healed him while he slept. of course not enough to where it would be noticeable the next morning, but you still wanted to help him.

•he started to notice that you hadn’t started to look any better over the past few weeks, and feeling so awful all the time took a toll on you too. every time you looked in the mirror, you saw the dark circles and bruises. how much weight you had lost. you looked deathly, compared to hawks. he was so bright, his muscles back to where they were originally, his hair so smooth. you felt like you should start listening to him and stop trying to heal him, until you heard him on the phone with the commission. “yeah! my partner has been healing me and my wings are coming back! i might even be able to go back to work soon!” oh no. he was no where near ready to go back, you had to work harder.

• you still continue to heal him little by little. you can no longer stand to look in the mirror or make eye contact with hawks for too long. one night before bed he’s holding you, and you start crying into his shoulder. he asks you what’s wrong, and you start explaining. you tell him how you’ve been healing him all this time, how insecure you’ve been, how sick you feel, how much you want to see him happy. you “forgot” to mention what your quirk does to you. he tries his best to comfort you and makes you promise to take a break.

•you decide to listen to him and you start to look a little better over the next few weeks. but unbeknownst to you or him, you’ve already caused permanent damage to yourself.

(also for plot reasons,, we’re going to act like hawks wouldn’t immediately take you to a doctor)

•you tell him that since you’re feeling better, you can start on healing him again. at first he shoots you down, saying that your health is more important to him than going back to work. but then he sees the look in your eyes, how you genuinely want to help him. “fine.” he says with a sigh, “once a week, but if you start feeling worse you have to tell me. deal?” “deal.”

•so, that next week you start again, and immediately you’re back to where you were. you know you should tell him, but he just looks so happy when he sees his wings growing. he only needs a few more weeks of healing and he should be able to fly again. you just have to hold on until then.

•one day, while he’s out getting groceries for the two of you, you start to feel more lightheaded than usual. you remember your phone on the couch and try to get over there to call keigo. you get to his contact, then the room goes dark. he comes home to you passed out on the couch, for a second he assumes you’re taking a nap and smiles down at you warmly. it’s only until he’s halfway through telling you about the new foods he got for the both of you to try that something was wrong. he walked over there and saw your phone was opened to his contact. he sat down next to you and asked if you were alright. no reply. he started to panic and picked you up, no response. you had a pulse going, a slow one. (a/n: i literally don’t know anything medical so i’m making this up and hoping it’s right) he immediately calls an ambulance, tears streaming down his face. “no, baby please don’t do this to me. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i should have payed attention more. please just be okay.” after about a minute of him sobbing into your shoulder, you start to wake up. your eyes barely open with a soft smile. he looks at you and hold you tight “what’s going on, what happened?” you give him a pained look as you start feeling numb. “i’m sorry keigo, i should have told you.” “tell me? tell me what? i don’t know what’s going on, i just walked in and you were passed out” he starts rambling, you use your last bit of strength to kiss him one last time. “you’re going to be a great hero keigo. i love you.” he stares while he processes what you said. “no, no please. don’t leave me. please there’s got to be something.” he grabs your wrist and checks for a pulse, vision blurry and shaking. nothing, you’re cold. he felt his breathing stop, his brain stopped working. the person he fell in love with so long ago, the person he spent long nights awake with talking about anything and everything, the person who greeted him with a warm and loving smile and dinner after a long day of patrol, the person who saw him at his weakest and brought him back up little by little, gone and never to return. he opened up his phone to do something, anything and there you were. the picture you had taken that day he brought you flying. your beautiful smile and that red shirt he got you for your birthday. he remembered how you said it looked so pretty next to his wings, he responded with “well, you look so pretty next to my wings” a silly response, yes, but it made you laugh and you kissed him on the cheek. he looked back at where you currently lay, grey and bony, no life left in you. all because of him. the ambulance finally arrived and they had to pry him off you. he finally got himself to stop crying so he could talk to them, but as soon as he saw them carrying you in the bag, his facade vanished and the tears started flowing again. that night on his way to bed, he saw the indentation on the bed of where you laid just that morning. he made his way to the couch, only to see your phone still on the coffee table. he started sobbing again, and fell asleep on the floor.

(tw: mentions of alcohol and suicide)

•your funeral was the next week, he went back to work the day after. he needed something to take his mind off you. he worked long hours, not caring how much his fragile and much smaller wings ached and how they could barely carry his weight. on his way home, he picked up the strongest alcohol he could get. he downed bottle after bottle and at one point, if he squinted hard enough, he could still see your sillouette.

• a month went by, he was miserable. some intern at his agency said “well, at least they died helping you. you can just get a different healer to finish the job, right?” he smacked the guy and retired then and there. he felt too much guilt, it was his fault you’re gone. just because he was too stupid to notice how bad you were getting. he stopped by your grave on his way home that night, the grass hadn’t even grown over the top. he looked at your name on the headstone. “heh, we didn’t even get to have the same last name yet. yknow, i had the ring in the drawer by the bed.” he looks down at the ground. “i know you worked so hard to fix my wings but, i hope you don’t mind too much if i joined you.” with that, he adds the roses to the growing pile of ones he brought before and heads home. the news the next morning read the title “Pro hero Hawks found dead after sudden retirement” He was with you again.

———————

okay okay i didn’t mean for this to be so long and so sad but here we are,, if you have any suggestions on how to edit it plz lmk! asks and requests are open and feedback would be appreciated! :)

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, tabbytabbytabby!

For @tabbytabbytabby, who wanted alive Hale pack and anything alternative universe. MERRY CHRISTMAS AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!!!! I decided to go with a rock band AU because let's face it, they're all stupid hot and would look so good doing it. My headcanon for alive Laura Hale is the incomparable Katie McGrath if you want a visual. Those eyes, man. They make my little bisexual heart very happy.

Also everyone here is somewhere in the Kinsey Scale :)))) There will be smut and idiocy. Idiots in love has become one of my favourite tags!

The underage occurs when Derek and Stiles are in high school. Derek is a senior and Stiles is a sophomore.

Band line up is as follows:

Laura - lead vocals Derek - lead guitar Boyd - bass Erica - acoustic guitar and backing vocals Isaac - keyboard and backing vocals Cora - drums and backing vocals

Read On AO3

*****

Edge Of Seventeen

Chapter 1 - Say What Now?

‘Do you want to?’

It took Stiles a few moments to focus on the words, electricity buzzing under his skin and his mouth bruised and still wet with Derek’s spit. Two warm broad hands settled either side of his face and gently redirected his attention. In the dark of the Camaro’s back seat, Derek’s pale eyes glittered.

‘We can.’ His voice was low and rough, his breathing out of kilter. ‘If you want to.’

Stiles looked at him, his heart racing a thousand miles a minute.

I want to.’ he said and fell into another kiss.

The alarm woke Stiles with a start. He swore and leaned over to slide a finger across the screen and turn it off. He’d forgotten when he’d arrived the night before, still a little jet lagged and not quite with everything when he’d collapsed into bed and been asleep in what was probably a record time.

He lay still, looking up at the ceiling and getting his breath back. He hadn’t had a dream about Derek Hale in a very long time and he was chalking it up to being back in his childhood bed. Independence Day had been the one holiday he’d won in the field office lottery, and so Stiles had packed up and gone home for the long weekend, four blissful days off. He’d known going into the FBI would be hard, but he’d had no idea just how hard it would be. Noah was delighted. The last time they’d seen each other had been Christmas and Stiles had been morose after yet another break up. He’d spent an afternoon wandering around the preserve, ending up staring at the Hale house, still closed up and looking a little worse for wear, with nary a Hale in sight.

This time it was summer, the heat already making his room uncomfortable. Stiles grimaced and plucked his damp t-shirt away from his skin, sitting up and dragging a hand over his face as he tried to wake up properly, manfully ignoring his dream-induced erection that made him feel like he was a teenager all over again.

‘Stiles?’ Noah yelled from downstairs. ‘You up, kiddo?’

‘I’m twenty-six, Dad,’ Stiles muttered, standing up and stretching. ‘Not a kid anymore.’

He was feeling it too, the crashing realisation that those carefree days were far behind him. He had a job and an apartment in Sacramento, cacti that he had managed not to kill. All the cool stuff. It wasn’t hard to feel like something was missing but Stiles would never admit that the string of failed relationships he had accumulated were anything to do with what Lydia referred to as ‘the one who got away’.

Noah was in the kitchen as he predicted, sleep rumpled and unshaven in sweat pants and an old BHPD t-shirt. He’d been taking it a bit easier, giving Parrish more and more responsibility. Stiles was pleased and Parrish was both smart and sensible, a combination that Lydia had found irresistible. Their senior year fling had evolved into a long term relationship until Lydia had come home to buy them a small clapboard Victorian near the preserve and commute to the research lab every day where she had her associate professorship. Parrish had presented her with a simple solitaire ring at Christmas and she was very happy.

‘Are you going to see Mom?’ he asked and Stiles nodded, grabbing the orange juice from the ridge and pouring himself a glass, sniffing hopefully at the eggs Noah was scrambling. He noticed Stiles’ meaningful look and grinned.

‘I thought I would go after breakfast,’ He beamed at his father when he was presented with a plate full of eggs and bacon.

‘It’s turkey before you get on your high horse,’ Noah told him. ‘Get your own coffee if you want some.’

‘Not yet.’ Stiles made space for him to sit down and they ate in comfortable silence. Once finished, he did get up to make two cups. Noah accepted his gratefully and smiled at his son, grey eyes twinkling.

‘So…,’ he started and Stiles held up a finger.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t care who it is you want to set me up with, it’s not happening.’ His parents had a terrible habit of matchmaking.

Noah held up both hands in supplication.

‘Not setting you up,’ he protested. ‘Just thought I’d mention that when your mother went into the shop yesterday, she saw a ghost from the past. Several, actually.’

Stiles cursed internally. His dad knew he couldn’t resist a good mystery.

‘Okay, I’ll bite,’ he replied, starting to get up.

‘The Hales.’ Noah replied with all the smugness of a man who knew he had the scoop of the year.

‘Oh fuck.’ Stiles blurted and tripped over his chair.

-

It was the sneezing that woke Derek up.

‘Jesus fuck!’ Laura roared a floor below him. ‘How much fucking shit is in this place?’

‘Oh good, she’s awake.’ Cora muttered and turned over. They were in what had been the twins’ bedroom, each of them crammed into a single that was a little on the small side. The top storey of the house was still a burned out wreck and the furniture had been largely taken away over the years and so the pickings had been slim, with their merry threesome taking the scorched master bedroom and Laura camping out on the sagging couch downstairs. As Alpha, she always preferred to be on watch as it were.

‘This was such a bad idea.’ Derek borrowed deeper into his comforter. ‘We should have brought the bus.’

‘That would have given the game away.’ Laura replied, hearing them both perfectly even though she was now in the kitchen. ‘Which part of low profile are you two having trouble with?’

‘We could have always stayed in a hotel. Sleeping int the burned out remains of our family home is precisely the opposite of low profile. Lo.’ Derek pointed out, sitting up. There was no way he’d be going back to sleep. Not with his alpha on a mission.

‘Discretion is our watchword, Derek.’ Laura hissed and started banging pots and pans around with a maximum of noise. Derek looked over at Cora. Her dark eyes were just visible under the pillow she had over her head.

‘You’re her second.’ She bared her teeth at him. ‘You go deal with her.’

‘I hate you.’ Derek said flatly, rolling out of bed and onto his feet. He stumbled a little on the stairs, still half asleep. Laura had her head buried in a blackened cupboard when he got to the kitchen. It hadn’t been as badly affected as the rest of the house but it was still a health hazard as far as he was concerned.

‘Where the hell is the waffle iron?’ she demanded. ‘Mom said she left it here.’

‘Who the fuck knows?’ Derek yawned and went to the fridge. There was nothing inside except for a gallon of milk and the leftover Chinese take out from the night before. He sniffed a carton of lemon chicken, grabbing some disposable chopsticks from the small pile on the kitchen table, and started eating. Laura eyed him, one fang just visible.

‘We need proper food.’ She glared at the ceiling. ‘Everybody up! We’re going grocery shopping!’

‘Christ.’ Derek grumbled. ‘You think that’s low profile too?’

‘Shut up.’ Laura swept past him, nose in the air. ‘I’m the Alpha now.’

Derek sniggered and let her go, enjoying his leftovers while he listened to her rouse the threesome. There was a lot of complaining, and he couldn’t really blame them. Their schedule had been hectic, even for wolves, and they were all tired and the house wasn’t exactly welcoming. Laura’s plans to come home and reclaim their territory now she was an Alpha in her own right had seen them finish the final leg of their international tour in New York, a quick catch up with their pack and then flying down to Sacramento and driving the three hours to Beacon Hills all in twenty-four hours. They had barely had time to stop in at the small coffee shop near the Sheriff's station before coming out to the house, which had been shut up for the past ten years. Peter had intended to join them, but had been delayed in New York. As their manager, he was the one who took care of all the dealings with their record company. If it was left to him and Laura, they probably would have eaten every executive by now. He was worth every penny they paid him, even if the meeting had probably been manufactured as a way to get out of cleaning up the house.

-

Stiles pulled up at the cemetery, parking the Jeep behind the old truck that had parked off centre and across two spaces. Grinning, he got out and made his way through the iron gates, remembering Isaac Lahey, who’d been a couple of years above him at school. His father had been the groundskeeper before there had been an incident at their house and Coach Lahey had been found dead. He remembered Isaac being taken in by social services and a whole sordid story of child abuse and alcoholicism coming out. Isaac had stayed off school for a week and then simply vanished off the face of the earth. There had been a lot of theories as to where he’d gone, but the truth was he wasn’t the first person to do that in 2011.

Stiles got lost in thought as he meandered between the headstones, finally coming to a stop in front of one made of white marble and embossed with angels.

‘That’s new.’ he remarked. ‘Not sure about the daffodils.’

‘They’re so gaudy.’ The dark haired woman kneeling at the grave grinned over her shoulder at him, her eyes the same warm whiskey brown as her son’s. ‘I’m glad to see you made it out of bed. I was starting to think you’d spend the whole weekend hibernating.’

‘Funny.’ Stiles helped Claudia up and gave her a long hug. When she let him go, she stepped back and looked him up and down.

‘You look good.’ she said. ‘Dare I say, professional.’

‘Mom.’ Stiles settled his hands on her shoulders. ‘Dad said you saw the Hales yesterday.’

‘Oh.’ Claudia’s look of faux innocence was belied by the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. ‘Is that why you came to see me. No ‘I’ve missed you terribly Mother’, but ‘You saw the fucking Hales’.’

‘Mom.’ Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Did you see him?’

‘Who?’ Claudia crinkled her nose in amusement. ‘The boy you’ve been literally pining for, for almost a decade?’

‘I’m sure he’s not a boy anymore.’ Stiles snorted. ‘And yes. Stop playing dumb.’

‘I might have.’ Claudia tilted her head. ‘What’s it worth?’

‘A double chocolate muffin and all the lattes you can drink.’ Stiles replied and she cackled and linked her arm through his.

‘Done.’ she declared. ‘And you’re right. He’s definitely not a boy anymore.’

-

Derek leaned heavily on the cart, eyelids at half mast and his senses muted. The store was fairly empty, the early hour on a Saturday meaning that most shoppers were yet to make an appearance. Next to him Boyd yawned and shifted on his feet, hands sunk deep in the pockets of his leather jacket.

They’d been best friends a long time, playing basketball and baseball and getting into shit when they were teenagers and when things had turned bad and they’d had to leave, Boyd had been dogged in his refusal to cut ties and turned up at the pack house in New York a week after graduation with Erica in tow. They had walked right in and asked Talia for the bite and she’d given it gladly. Derek knew she was going to do it for Erica even before they had had to flee their territory and they’d settled in like they’d always been pack. Isaac had, of course, already joined them earlier and his delight at having them back had turned into a deep and abiding love that saw them forming their triad and becoming mates.

Erica was leaning on Isaac, her blond curls dragged into a messy ponytail and Cora was trailing Laura a few feet ahead. It always grated that she had inherited their mother’s early rising nature while the rest of them would have happily slept in and threw her weight around to get them out of bed when they most definitely didn’t want to. Even the fact that Derek was her twin didn’t let him get out of doing what she wanted.

‘Toilet paper.’ Laura turned and they all tried to avoid her eyes. ‘Derek. Take Boyd and grab some.’

‘But I’m minding the cart,’ he whined, clinging to it like a drowning man to a life preserver.

‘Go!’ Laura’s eyes flared red for just a second and Derek had to resist the urge to snarl back at her like he’d always used to. The whole alpha thing was new, the result of an overambitious alpha that had come into their territory planning to challenge Talia and ending up facing her daughter instead when they tried to take Cora with the intention of forcibly mating her and claiming rights. Talia had always taught them to solve their problems with diplomacy but Laura was headstrong and fiercely protective of her siblings, ever since Kate Argent had tried to use her to get close enough to kill them all. She’d almost succeeded too, that night of the party to celebrate the basketball teams’ victory for nationals providing the perfect distraction for them to be off their guard. Kate had struck in the early hours of the morning and she’d had them trapped, the beginnings of an arson that would have killed them all if Derek hadn’t come back and caught her. He’d ripped her throat out with his teeth, calling Deaton in a panic to come and break the circle of mountain ash that kept them trapped and they’d all watched their family home burn until the police and emergency services had arrived.

Talia had decided that it was too dangerous to stay, knowing the Argents would come for Derek, getting them all packed in a matter of twenty-four hours and away from what was left of their home. They’d gone to their father’s pack in New York State, leaving no sign of them behind. It was the way with wolves, always having a back-up in case something went wrong. The Argents were a large and powerful hunting clan and there would be retribution for the death of Gerard’s golden child, but when they came for the Hales they would find the place empty. Deaton stayed, both to protect the territory and report back to Talia about hunters coming in and not a month after it had happened, they had come. Thankfully the wards on the Hale land had kept the territory claim in place and the hunters had left with no satisfaction.

The rest had been a long and bloody fight between their respective Councils. Gerard had wanted Derek’s head for killing Kate and Talia had countered with the evidence that Kate had planned to kill a pack of law-abiding wolves along with their children. The matter had finally been settled when Gerard died of cancer and his granddaughter, by all accounts a level headed and honourable young woman about the same age as Derek, had taken over.

The music had started as a way to keep them all sane while this was happening, Talia more or less forcing them into music therapy as a way to deal with what had happened. It had been a bit of a shock to realise they were actually very good at it and they’d formed the band. Some minor success saw them moving steadily up the indie charts until it became their lives. Laura had named them Hale Pack 2.0 and Talia had laughed so hard when they’d told her that she’d shifted and clawed right through the cushion she was holding, feathers flying around them like a small snowstorm.

Derek hadn’t minded at first. The music was what he loved, the fame and money secondary. The Hales were already rich, but Peter had jumped at the chance to do something different and he drove their commercial success. They were in that comfortable zone of being middle of the road, not so successful enough that they were household names but it became hard in New York to go anywhere without being recognised.

Derek didn’t enjoy that part much. He was solitary and quietly sarcastic by nature, but unfortunately that just seemed to translate into brooding and mysterious in interviews and so he was plagued by a long line of would-be groupies that tagged along after him like a cloud of midges. Laura found it hilarious and basked in her own popularity. As an out lesbian, she had her choice of pretty girls to shack up with. Cora kept her asexuality to herself, just as surly as Derek was. The other three were not exactly open about their polyamorous arrangegment, but they didn’t hide it either. They were lucky, having found each other and being able to keep each other.

He often thought about that night, the one where the reason he’d been able to save his family was because he’d been in the back seat of his father’s illicitly borrowed Camaro with the boy he’d loved pretty much forever and indulging in a bit of mutual deflowering. Then he’d had to pack up and leave said boy without even saying goodbye or telling him where he was going. It had hurt more than he’d thought possible and if part of why Derek was so keen to come back to Beacon Hills was to try and track down that boy, then who was to know. The only people who knew what he’d been up to were Boyd (because Derek told him everything) and Laura (because she’d sat on him and tickled him until he’d confessed and then had to hold her while she cried, guilt and shame coming off her in waves). Derek hadn’t had the heart to complain when their very survival had been at stake because he’d killed Kate Argent, no matter whose fault it had been. Talia had said to make a clean break with the town and while she’d made allowances for their friends who were already in the know, that was as far as she was willing to push her luck.

Derek and Laura had finished out their schooling at home, Cora had gone to boarding school in South America with her Argentinian grandmother’s pack and the twins were still too young to be a problem so that was, as they said, that. Then had come college, followed by the band and the success and the travelling and before Derek knew it, it had been almost ten years and he was twenty-eight and still hung up on Stiles fucking Stilinski.

‘Hey.’ Boyd bumped him with his shoulder. ‘You alive in there?’

‘Not really.’ Derek surveyed the toilet paper and grabbed a couple of twenty-four packs. ‘Just thinking.’

‘Yeah.’ Boyd grinned, lighting up his usually serious face. ‘I can guess what about too.’

‘Not a goddamned word.’ Derek growled and then froze, his nose twitching madly.

It wasn’t exactly the same, a little deeper and a little thicker but he’d recognise that scent anywhere with his nose stuffed up and people throwing peppermint oil in his face. He shoved the toilet paper at Boyd and charged through the aisle, needing to find the source and skidding to a halt in the aisle with the candy and stared at the Sheriff, who looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. In fact, as it was he had cookies in his hands which he quickly put back.

‘Derek?’ He looked pleasantly surprised. ‘Claudia said she’d seen you.’ He came over and Derek couldn’t help taking in a deep breath. The scent of Stiles was all over the Sheriff and it made his heart start thumping like a drum.

‘Sheriff Stilinski.’ He took the offered hand and shook it, gleeful when he could smell a little bit of Stiles on his own skin. ‘Yeah, we’re back. Laura said she was going to stop by and talk to you about the house. She’s actually around here somewhere.’ He couldn’t stop smiling. ‘I’m glad you’re still here.’

‘Where else would we be?’ The Sheriff raised an eyebrow at him. ‘To be honest, we never thought you’d come back. Any of you. The last we heard, you mom and dad had skipped town and taken you all with them after the fire and then five years later, you and your sisters pop up playing gigs in New York with the Lahey kid, Vernon Boyd’s son and Erica Reyes and since you hit the big times, you’ve been entirely responsible for provisioning this town with 90% of its salacious gossip.’

‘How did you know that? I mean, New York.’ Derek was completely bemused. They had started out small, playing tiny venues, still wary of being recognised. It had only been in the last couple of years that they’d made it big enough to be known internationally.

‘I kept track.’ The Sheriff replied. ‘The fact that you all pretty much disappeared overnight hit this town like a slap in the face. I called in a lot of favours.’ There was something in his voice though that had Derek frowning. ‘I had my reasons, son.’

Derek was about to ask him what those were exactly when Laura came barreling down the aisle.

‘There you are.’ She came up short when she saw who he was talking to. ‘Sheriff Stilinski?’

‘The one and only.’ The Sheriff tipped an invisible hat at her. ‘It’s good to see you, Laura. Derek and I were just catching up.’

‘Well, I have to steal him. Excuse us.’ Laura gave him a toothy grin that was not her usual smile and Derek wondered just what was happening. She caught his arm and practically dragged him away.

‘What the hell?’ he protested, trying to wriggle out of her iron grip.

‘Hunters.’ she hissed and Derek’s blood ran cold.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked and she nodded, her face grim.

‘The others are doing the check out.’ she said. ‘We need to go.’

-

Stiles parked on the kerb and got out. Claudia already had the front door open and was looking down the street.

‘Visitor.’ she announced and went inside, leaving him to stand and wait for the car to stop. He bounced in excitement, barely waiting for the driver to get out before grabbing her and squeezing her hard enough to make her squeak.

‘Lydia, my strawberry blonde goddess.’ He kissed her cheek soundly. ‘I was wondering when you’d show up.’

‘Stiles.’ Lydia had softened since high school, growing into her intellect and losing the hard veneer of extreme fashion that had been her armour in high school. She was still elegant, but the tan leather boots she wore under her long floral skirt were flat and her face was less determinedly made up, her hair a mass of loose fronds that framed her face. She was also as beautiful as she had always been but Stiles loved her for more than that. They had grown close in junior year when Jackson had moved to the UK and she’d been left bereft. Scott had been dating Kira that year and he’d had little time for Stiles so they’d drifted together and never really drifted apart, in spite of their physical distance. Now Scott and Kira were engaged, with Scott working for Deaton full time and Kira teaching martial arts with their first baby on the way and Stiles felt even more like he was lagging behind. Lydia kept him tied to Beacon Hills as much as his parents did.

‘So what are you doing here?’ He escorted her to the house. Lydia went in first, saying hello to Claudia as they went into the kitchen.

‘I have some news you might want to hear.’ she said, her eyes dancing.

‘’If it’s that the Hales are back, I already know.’ Stiles was smug when she pouted. He so seldom got one over on her so it was fun when he did.

‘Sorry.’ Claudia grinned at Lydia. ‘That was my fault.’

‘Dammit.’ Lydia folded her arms. ‘Well that may be, but I bet you don’t know that they’re going to be playing the Jungle tonight.’

‘No, that I did not know.’ Stiles was immediately hooked. He’d always wanted to go watch them, ever since they’d first popped back up on his radar after years of radio silence, courtesy of a discarded music magazine in the field office. He’d fantasised about meeting Derek’s eyes across a crowded venue but he knew that in reality, Derek probably didn’t even remember the boy he fucked in the back of his sister’s car and probably also had his pick of beautiful people to spend his time with. It hadn’t stopped him from following the band’s progress almost obsessively though.

He’d been distraught when Derek had gone, trying to find any trace of him online, but there had been nothing at all in the years just after the fire. Noah had been cagey about what he’d known and Stiles had been at a loose end, trying to fill in the gaps. When he’d rediscovered them, Stiles had followed them on every form of social media he could and tracked down every article about them. Derek still didn’t have any online presence apart from that and the music videos his band put out. Stiles had jealously hoarded every single tiny piece of information and downloaded every picture and video of him, seeing how handsome Derek had become, growing into himself in a way Stiles envied. He’d jerked off many a night, watching the stylised black and white videos that the Hale Pack 2.0 preferred. Derek was always dressed in black jeans and tight white t-shirts, the sleeves of his trademark leather jacket pushed up to his elbows and his broad hands drawing Stiles’ gaze in as he played his guitar, all precision and power that had Stiles breath coming short at the thought of them on him.

‘Danny told me this morning. He’s practically beside himself at getting them on his books at such short notice.’ Lydia smirked, knowing she had his full attention. Danny had made a ton of money in apps and bought his old stomping ground. It had had a makeover and was now a very stylish LGBTQ+ venue that he ruled along with Jackson as his partner in business and life, once he’d had his gay crisis while he was gone. Stiles knew from the Hales’ publicity that Laura was a lesbian and he was pretty sure Isaac, Erica and Boyd were involved in something that looked pretty polyamorous but Derek and Cora were notoriously private and there was never any suggestion as to who they might be seeing. It seemed the kind of place they would be playing.

‘Okay.’ He moved to the coffee maker, preparing for a long sit down. ‘Tell me everything.’

TBC on AO3!

[fantastic-rambles]

The Skylark’s Song [1 /4]

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

Characters: Hibari Kyoya, Hibari Kyoya’s parents, Unnamed Gang

Warnings: Violence, Gang, Implied Rape, Attempted Murder, Murder, Police Corruption, Gaslighting

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: My personal headcanons of the (pre-canon) experiences that made Hibari into the man that he is today. Part One: why he has such a strong hatred of crowds and the beginning of his commitment to discipline.

(The other parts won't be this dark. I think.)

It had been a day like any other.

On a warm spring afternoon, they'd gone out together as a family to his school festival, nine-year-old Kyoya running from attraction to attraction, his parents following at a more stately pace but always keeping him in sight.

"Mom! Dad! Here, here!" he called out, practically bouncing with excitement in front of his classroom. Laughing, they caught up to him, following him into the room as he tugged at their hands.

The walls were covered with the students' essays, and Kyoya paused by his, his chest puffed out with pride. Indulgently, they bent over slightly to read what he had written in his neat but still childish hand.

My Dreams

When I grow up, I want to be a great person like my dad. Dad is a hero, fighting the bad guys who are making people sad. He's like a policeman or fireman, except he's even cooler than that! Dad and Mom both love Namimori and want to make this town into a happy place for everyone, and I want to help them. They also love me very much, and I love them, too.

He beamed up at them as his mother knelt to hug and kiss him while his father ruffled his hair. Their pride practically emanated off them in waves, and Kyoya was the happiest that he could ever remember. After the festival, they'd gone to his favorite family restaurant, where he ordered a hamburger steak, still chattering away happily about school: how he was the top student in his year, how his teachers praised him for his work, what he was learning in class now... His parents had been smiling throughout his monologue, sometimes asking questions to encourage him to keep speaking.

But the day had to come to an end eventually, and the setting sun found them walking back to their house, Kyoya hanging onto his parents' hands and occasionally just completely lifting his feet off the ground so that he could swing between them, making all three of them laugh. By the time they arrived home, he was completely exhausted from running around all day, barely able to change into his pajamas and brush his teeth before he fell into his futon. The last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him was his mother sitting beside him, softly humming a lullaby.

It was completely dark when a loud crash woke him. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes sleepily, he called out, "Mom? Dad?"

But there was no answer, though he could faintly hear voices elsewhere in the house. Still only half-awake, he followed the sounds to the brightly lit living room, freezing in the doorway as the sight unfolded before him.

Men he didn't know were standing all around the room. His father knelt in the middle, his face battered and dripping blood onto the floor from a broken nose, while his mother sobbed quietly in a corner, held back by two men. A couple of the other men had wooden baseball bats... and guns. Kyoya started to shake as he recognized the weapons he'd only ever seen on TV before. Too scared to step into the room but too afraid to run away, he was frozen in place, at least until one of the men standing by the doorway looked down and saw him.

"Well, what's this?"

As he bent down, his movement caught the eye of Kyoya's mother, and he saw stark terror spread across her face as she recognized her son.

"KYOYA! RUN!" she shrieked. As if a spell had been broken, Kyoya turned and obeyed, his bare feet pattering on the smooth wooden floors as he blindly sought an escape. Suddenly, his familiar home was filled with strange shadows that jumped out of him, making him flinch in the dark corridors, all too aware of his pursuer behind him with steps like thunder. He'd just shoved open the sliding door that led to the garden when the man caught up, seizing him around the waist and swinging him onto his hip with ease.

"No! Stop! Let me go!" Kyoya yelled, pounding against his captor's back with his small fists. The man didn't even try to silence him--they lived too far away from anyone else for the commotion to be noticed--and returned the way they had come, eventually dumping the child in front of his mother. She grabbed him immediately, curling herself around him protectively and pressing his face to her chest as he squirmed, trying to turn around and see what was happening.

"Come on, you don't want to do this in front of your wife and kid, right?" a voice asked, harshly mocking. "Just give us the data and we'll leave, no harm done. It's not like we like doing this either, you know."

A few of the other men chuckled, covering up his father's quiet response, and Kyoya felt his mother cringe just before there was a dull, wet, thumping sound that was repeated several times. It sounded just like when they smashed watermelons on the beach.

"Change your mind yet?" the voice asked, sounding slightly winded. The only response was a groan and panting, and the voice sharpened. "Hey, bring me the kid."

"No!" Kyoya was pressed even harder against his mother's chest, half-smothering him, as hands reached out to grab him, trying to pull him away. Now he began to cry as his limbs were pulled roughly, twisted behind his back or jerked as if they were trying to rip him apart, but his mother still clung to him.

"Take me instead! Please! Leave him alone!" she begged above his wailing.

The voice clicked his tongue, then replied, "Fine, whatever. Shut the kid up."

Her hands ran through his hair, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead, murmuring quietly, desperately. "It'll be okay, Kyoya. Be quiet, shhh, shhh, shh. It'll be okay."

"Hurry it up," the voice snapped, and they were suddenly wrenched apart, the absence of his mother making Kyoya start crying again, until one of the men casually backhanded him in the face, the sudden pain shocking him into silence as the taste of blood filled his mouth. He subsided into small whimpers, his hand pressed against his burning cheek, as he watched his mother forced to her knees next to his father. The man who seemed to be the leader of the gang tossed aside his bat and reached into his pocket, pulling out a switchblade that he flicked open before crouching down in front of Kyoya's parents.

"You've got such a pretty wife, Hi-ba-ri-san," he taunted, resting the blade against her face. "It would be a real pity if something happened to her, wouldn't it? Looks are everything to a woman, after all. Do you think you'd still love her if she was all scarred, without her nose and ears? Would she still love you, for letting it happen to her?"

"You'll kill us anyways, after you get what you want," Kyoya's mother spat. "Just get it over with. We won't tell you anything."

She flinched as the man dragged the weapon down the side of her face, leaving a thin red gash across her cheek, but she continued to stare at him defiantly. The man snorted, getting to his feet.

"Brave woman. But let's see how long that lasts. Hold her down." He began to unbuckle his belt, his comrades grinning as they dragged the woman down, piling on to stop both Kyoya's mother and father from struggling. Kyoya didn't understand what was happening, but he saw the look on his mother's face, and he ran between her and the man, spreading his arms wide to protect her.

"Stop bullying Mommy!" he screamed, tears and snot running down his face as he shook like a leaf. The man's face twisted into an expression of disgust and annoyance.

"Someone take care of this brat," he ordered, and another man stepped forward, hefting his bat in his hand.

"You got it, boss." Like a cleanup hitter getting ready to smack a home run, he drew back and swung, the sharp crack drowned out by the shrill screams of Kyoya's mother and the hoarse cries of his father. Kyoya collapsed, and the last thing he remembered was the feeling of a foot in this stomach, kicking him out of the way.

He awoke with a splitting headache to a room full of people and bolted upright, screaming, "MOMMY! DADDY!" Startled, somber faces turned to look at him, and a woman in a police uniform walked over to him, wrapping her arms around him soothingly as he kept screaming for his parents. Bright sunlight was falling into the room as other men and women walked around, taking pictures and putting things into labeled plastic bags. The policewoman cradled his head, then drew away in shock, her hand tacky with blood.

"We need paramedics!" she called out, carefully lifting the boy into her arms and heading toward the door. Draped over her shoulder, Kyoya continued to scream, his eyes fixed on two lumps in the middle of the room, covered with white sheets.

A week later, Kyoya stood in the Namimori graveyard, watching as two caskets were lowered into the ground. His head was still wrapped in bandages from the surgery to repair his fractured skull, the doctors having proclaimed it a miracle that he'd even survived. The young boy's eyes were dry as he stared at the marble headstone, dressed somberly in black and surrounded by adults.

Shock, they whispered when they thought he couldn't hear them, shaking their heads sympathetically. Poor boy. Who could have ever imagined it? They had seemed like such a perfect family. But everyone has their skeletons.

The case had been wrapped up quickly: a murder-suicide. Kyoya's mother had found out about his father's affair, and in the midst of a passionate argument, he'd killed her. Consumed with regret, he'd then attempted to kill his son before taking his own life. The boy's story was nothing more than the result of head trauma and a completely understandable psychological refusal to accept the truth. So he'd invented a wild tale of home intruders, blaming nonexistent ghosts for the crime while repressing his memories. The officers in charge of the investigation hadn't even bothered to write down his account, sitting patiently with him for hours in the hospital as they tried to explain what had happened to him.

But he knew. His parents had been slaughtered by that pack of animals: weak, undisciplined cowards too afraid to do anything alone. And they'd had enough influence to cover up the crime, so that the only thing that was published was a short obituary listing his parents' names and ages, and the fact that they had been survived by their child.

Heroes didn't exist. But that didn't mean that he couldn't get revenge.

[Part 2]

[tardytothepardy]

Fruits Basket - Vol 19

Compared to the last few books, this one was actually pretty mild in subject matter. Nothing too heavy, which was a pretty nice break. The heavy stuff is fine, don't get me wrong, but you need a break from it, y'know? These characters certainly need a break.

In this book, we got a lot of backstory on Kakeru, which was pretty interesting. He seems kinda weird, the more we learn about him. Something's off about his ability to emote. Idk.

In the first section (which honestly is pretty heavy), it continues right where vol 18 left off: Tohru saying that they gotta find a way to break the curse soon, for everyone's sake, but especially for Kyo's sake. This seems to throw Tohru into a tiny crisis, because she had promised herself, after her mom died, that she would never place anyone above her mom, that her mom would always be the most important person to her. But she's realizing that is starting to fade away.

When Izusu first asked her what was most important to her, Tohru couldn't answer. She wanted to say her mom, of course her mom was the most important thing to her, but there clearly was another thing that was rivaling for that first place. She made the promise to always keep her mom in mind, to always have her be the most important, so that she would never fade away. It was right after she died, and Tohru had cleared everything out of their apartment, and even then, Tohru felt like Kyoko's memory was fading away.

As she was walking home, caught up in all these memories and thoughts, Shigure pops up, and says that she's heading to the main Sohma house, which is weird. On the way back to their house (should I phrase it as Shigure's house? I dunno), Shigure mentions how both she and Izusu have made it clear that they're trying to break the curse, and Tohru asks if he knew that the curse was already breaking. He said he didn't, it was just a hunch. Apparently, there has never been a time when all 13 members of the Juunishi have been alive, there's always been one missing. Because of this, Shigure thinks that the time for the curse to break is coming near, that it's the "final banquet". Not to mention, things have been watered down a lot through the generations, like Hatori being possessed by the dragon, but he turns into a sea horse. No offense Hatori, but that is kinda underwhelming. Additionally, Kureno's living proof that something is happening, with the way that the curse just,, randomly broke for him, and he wasn't doing anything to trigger that.

Shigure then brings up Kyo, and how time is cutting close for him, and it won't be long before he'll be taken away (something that Tohru is very aware of). He also says that the reason that the Cat has always been hated, is because it's just kinda the most convenient. I mean, the Cat is the only one that has a "dark form", which is all gross and etc., and it's easier to pick on that, than to really sit with yourself and think about how you're a fuckin weirdo who can turn into an animal, not even by choice, it's just something that happens that mostly out of your control, and because of that, it causes you to distance yourself from everyone. It's a burden, it's really just a curse. He really just keeps hammering down on the point that everyone knows that Kyo's the worst of them all, and they use that to feel better about themselves, that at least they're not like that, a disgusting creature. Personally, idk why he's doing this, but it makes Tohru pretty upset. She was upset to begin with, and now he's just putting salt in the wound with an oddly calm demeanor. After she makes him stop saying all that, he asks her if she does love him, and that sends her right back into her initial crisis.

Kyo shows up soon after, and Shigure just says she's upset because she got in a fight with Izusu, and not to worry about it. Kyo tries to console her about this "fight", which only makes Tohru feel worse. She says she doesn't know what to do, and he said that in situations like that, it's best to not do anything. I swear to goodness, these two are just kinda hopeless.

Anyway, the next chapter continues (as it is wont to do), and it's been another year since Tohru's mom died. Kyo didn't go with Tohru and her friends, clearly it all brings up a separate bunch of bad memories for him. Mostly involving when his own mom died, and the shit his dad said to him at the funeral. The stupid thing is, that after his dad said, "You can't get close [to the headstone] because you feel guilty, don't you?" Kazuma said that isn't something you say to a child, and Kyo's dad doubled down and said that's why he said it, because he wouldn't.

Unsurprisingly, Kyo did understand, because ✨news flash✨ kids aren't stupid. They can understand what you're saying, it's not like an adult's words are all garbled like in Peanuts. Especially when they're looking you dead in the eye, accusing you of killing their wife and your mother. They understand. He understood. (Why couldn't have kicked Kyo's dad in the throat he just,, he deserves it)

Anyway, while that particular thing in sitting around in his head, he runs into Tohru's grandfather, who's just kinda sitting there, chilling. He recognizes Kyo, which is what Kyo gets for having bright orange hair (he didn't do it on purpose but he has to understand the consequences of being a main character: he's recognizable) While they're talking, Kyo notices that Tohru's grandfather keeps calling Tohru "Kyoko", and Kyo asks about it. Tohru's grandfather (he doesn't really get a name, but this is also really clumsy ;-;) says it's to remember Kyoko, and shortly after Kyoko died, it was partially for Tohru's sake. He then asks Kyo if he knows why Tohru asks the way she does. I would imagine that if Kyo did think about it at all, he'd just figure it's because that's how she is, but Tohru's grandfather says it's an imitation of her father, Katsuya. This is mostly because after Katsuya died, some relatives started saying that Tohru wasn't anything like Katsuya, are you sure she's his daughter? Disgusting shit like that. Tohru's grandfather mused that they probably said it because they didn't think Tohru would understand them, which kinda makes Kyo go "!!" because holy crap, he was just thinking about that! how crazy!, and Tohru's grandfather says that, if nothing else, a kid can understand if a comment is nice or mean, but they are usually pretty good at understanding things.

After that, Kyo went home and saw Tohru taking down the laundry (do they not have a dryer or was it just more poetic to have her hanging them on a line and having them flutter around in the breeze?), and was thinking about the things that Tohru's grandfather said, along with some times that he was with Kyoko. Apparently, Kyo had seen (not really met) Tohru before they met in the beginning of the series. One time Kyoko was fretting about having to stay overtime at work, and how Tohru would be alone at home for a while, and so I guess Kyo decided that he'd check up on Tohru, and she was just sitting at the table, eating dinner, and he thought she looked pretty lonely.

Jump back to current events, Kyo's just been standing there, thinking about all this stuff while Tohru was folding laundry, and she finally noticed him. Ack! Startlements. Out of the blue, Kyo asked Tohru about her dad, and she froze up. She then said that they didn't really, but according to her mom, they acted the same. Then she retracted that statement, and revealed that she used to think her dad was a bad man, mostly just because as child, she used to fear that he would take Kyoko away from her, despite remembering that he was a kind and caring person. When he heard that, Kyo thought it was stupid, but it was most likely just from her trying to cope with her dad's death, and how her mom reacted so severely to it, and by thinking of her dad as a bad man, it was easier for her? Personally, I don't really follow the train of thought, I've read it a couple times, I'm just kinda confused by it, but it's mostly that she told herself a story that helped her, and it might have made her seem unaware of things (I hesitate to say "stupid"), so that she could push down her pain enough to seem happy on the outside. Tohru felt guilty about it, but Kyo told her that Kyoko probably knew what Tohru was doing, but it was okay, because Tohru helped Kyoko through a really tough time in her life (and he knows that for certain because Kyoko told him that).

Oh also the reason why there was all the billowing sheets and everything turned out to be kinda useful. Reassurance becomes awkward when you go to hug someone and you turn into a cat. So, stupid earlier question out of the way.

After all that, there is some unmistakably painful awkwardness between Kyo and Tohru, they're just stumbling over each other. Having to sit by and watch them is too much to bear for Yuki, so he flies off, to anywhere, because anywhere is better than that. And I mean, I've never been in that situation (because I'm generally not around people) but it's awkward enough just reading it, I think I would wither away or slam my head on a table/wall if I had to be around it, so I don't blame Yuki whatsoever. While he's wandering around, a woman comes up to him, asking if he's Ayame. Hm,, I wonder who this mysterious woman is??

(But first, a short peek back to the house and-- oh of course Kyo and Tohru are still struggling to exist around each other cool cool, and oh! Tohru just said something very cute and endearing and Kyo had a heart attack nice move my dude, and off in the distance, Hanajima senses their struggles and general pain)

Okay, back to Yuki. He went to Ayame's store to ask about that woman, and Ayame tells him that she was someone that he went to school with. He was the student body president, and he came to be friends with (or at least, he was friendly, there's a difference) another president from an all-girls school. Unbeknownst to him, she had fallen in love with him, but when he was younger, he didn't really seem to give a shit about people. Like, he seemed to be a raging asshole, not even on purpose. He just never took the time to consider and understand other people's feelings, and was just flippant to everything. So when this girl confessed her feelings to Ayame, he was decently surprised (kinda. If he was anywhere as popular as Yuki is in school, he probably had people confessing to him all the time, but unlike Yuki, Ayame probably just used that to boost his ego. What I'm saying is that it wouldn't really be a surprise to him; I have a feeling that he'd heard it a lot throughout high school), gave a "Oh, that's nice. What's your name again?" which was a huge blow to the girl. They'd been friends for a while, which she said. He then proceeded to say, "Oh, well then I guess your personality was so dull that I couldn't be bothered to remember!" Holy fuck. This is just getting worse and worse. Never mind the fact that Shigure and Hatori were there too, this wasn't just Ayame and the girl, and Shigure was snickering and poorly attempting to hide it. Hatori finally made them stop while the girl ran off, and Ayame had the gall to ask why. Dude. Wow.

It took him a while to fully understand what had happened, and how acting that way can really hurt someone, until he met Mine, the girl who works with him in the costume shop. (She's pretty distinctive in that she's always wearing a maid costume. She's enthusiastic about costumes) Yuki asked if Mine was Ayame's girlfriend, and Ayame said that she was, though they didn't make the biggest deal out of it. After going through his few minutes of Intense Retrospective, Ayame said (dramatically, you know him) that he hopes that moment hasn't traumatized her or affected her poorly, and Yuki said that she actually seemed pretty happy, if anything she was embarrassed, but it seemed like she had a husband and kid, so it could be guessed that she moved on from that incident. Yuki then tried to ask if Mine knows about the curse, but Ayame skillfully swerved around that by entirely ignoring the question, and Mine had come back from the store, so that conversation was over. But, when she came back, another followed, none other than Kakeru, who apparently is pretty friendly with Mine and Ayame, since the two of them came to the school during the "Sorta Cinderella" play to provide costumes.

While Kakeru was there, he briefly brought up Machi, and so she was brought over as well. That's only significant because she saw something she liked, and it pops up again later. Slightly later in this book, but more later in the series. It's a whole thing.

We also get a short little peek at what Kyo and Tohru are doing at the end of the chapter. I guess they just went out for shopping and stuff, and came across a place with lots of cats, who were quite excited to see Kyo. (Kyo was less excited to see the cats, it's probably for the better that they're separated by glass.)

The next chapter starts with Shigure at the main Sohma house, where apparently Akito has been stuck in her room for so long, asking if she thinks the world will change around her if she just stays in there long enough. He then leaves, and Akito says, "Fine! I don't care anymore!" (which, statistically speaking, almost always means that they still care), but Shigure doesn't bother with it. Being stubborn in this situation isn't going to help anything, but it's just not worth arguing over.

The scene jumps to school, and apparently Momiji's gotten a hell of a growth spurt, now he's all tall and tall, and he doesn't wear as much cutesy stuff. It also looks like he got a crush on Tohru, but Tohru would most likely quietly tuck Momiji into the friendzone like, so fast. I honestly doubt Momiji would actually try anything to get Tohru's attention, but later in the book he taunts Kyo a little bit, basically saying, "You better figure out your situation with Tohru bc I also l-l-like her lots <3" (After which Kyo has a mild crisis like "Holy shit does everyone know?? What the fuck??")

Tohru and Momiji run into Yuki and Haru at school, and for some reason they're all gonna go back home and get ice cream. Idk why, I guess they just felt like it.

Back at home itself, Kyo walks in and just finds Kisa sitting at the table. She flustered, he's confused ("why tf is she here what's going on?"), and Hiro pops out of nowhere to defuse a situation that wasn't occurring. Anyway, Kyo starts to walk off before Kisa says Hello!, and he's just like, "...hi. Anyway." and I'm just saying any of this bc it was so fuckin funny to me, idk why Kisa was acting like that, that might just be how she is, I've forgotten, but yeah.

Swerving back momentarily to the main Sohma house, Hatori's asking Shigure why he's always so mean to Akito. Would it really be so bad to just be nice for once? Shigure's pretty indifferent to it, especially when he said that Hatori's niceness or Kureno's niceness are more genuine, but he just can't fake that stuff, he doesn't care. He knows he's an annoying lil shit, and he doesn't seem to want to take any steps towards fixing that. After all, it's not his job to make Akito happy. (seriously though what's up with this whiplash between here and Tohru and Co. it's kinda weird.)

Let's just switch over to the last main chunk of the book, because I don't want to repeat myself too many times. This is the one that focuses on Kakeru, and his general weirdness. So he has a girlfriend, her name is Komaki Nakao. Just,, keep that in mind, I guess, so that I'm not saying "Kakeru's girlfriend" far too many times.

Anyway, Kakeru and Yuki head to the student council room, and Yuki gives Machi a little apology gift for having to deal with Ayame and Mine at the costume shop. Kimi complains about not getting something, which Naohito is irritated by (I think he lives to be irritated). She nabs the bag, opens it, and what is inside but a little Mogeta paper weight dude, a smaller version of the Mogeta doll that Ayame had in his shop that she was interested in (see I told you it was relevant), and she likes it a lot. Yuki can somehow tell by her waving it around in the air, idk how but he knows her better than I do. (Seeing as they're all in their fictional universe and I, it turns out, am not)

We also got a mini backstory into why Kimi is the way she is. It's because one time in middle school, a group of girls went up to her and said, "You think you can just float on by just because you're pretty and popular with boys?" and Kimi heartedly agreed, and just,,, didn't change. In case you were wondering.

Moving onto the part specifically about Kakeru, he used to have a thing against Tohru, a while back. When Kyoko got hit by that car, it turns out that the driver died as well, and that driver was Komaki's dad. So when Tohru and Kakeru ran into each other at the graveyard place, he basically was like, "Don't you dare think you can be the most sad in this situation, because someone else got hurt, so that means you can't be in as much pain as they are," completely out of the blue. Of course, Tohru didn't say anything against it, she wouldn't do that normally, and at the time she was still heavily mourning the death of her mother. He told Komaki of what he said to Tohru, reasoning that, like he said, she can't be the one most sad here, someone else has died. He saw her go about school, smiling and laughing, clearly she has to be faking her misery (rather than,, idk,, coping,,, and trying to get through life as a sudden orphan,,, idk,,), but Komaki didn't take it well, saying that you can't make a competition of something like being sad, or mourning. Him going out of his way to say that to Tohru did not help. That confused Kakeru initially, because he thought they were both on the same page. He did apologize, when they ran into each other later, completely owning up to his shit, which is nice. It's nice when people are accountable for their actions.

Back to Yuki and Machi for a second, Machi didn't have a chance to thank Yuki for the tiny Mogeta after she first got it, but she did like the gift. She tried to ask for what Yuki wanted, but all he said was self-confidence and fertilizer. (Does she know that he has a garden? I don't think she knows, that would probably seem very odd out of context.)

I think I'm gonna end that there. I have four more books left, so it's ending soon, but given how infrequently I actually sit down and write these, I just hope I'll be able to finish before they have to be taken back to the library.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Levanter- Mini Series #1

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Minho

Warnings: Language and some very sad angst at the beginning

Genre: Fantasy AU; Alice in Wonderland AU

Word Count: 2K

Summary: When Y/N loses her mother, it was like dangling from the edge of a cliff, wondering if you should just let go....But she soon comes to realize that there might be an opportunity to escape the pain...

A/N: Uh...happy birthday to Stay, I guess?

"One should never underestimate the power of books,” (Paul Auster)

It was raining again, but that had rapidly become commonplace in my small town. Still, it wasn’t enough to deter my current plans, skating around the crowded shops lining the streets and dodging the uncomfortable looks that were being thrown my way as I tried to protect the innocent little rose that I held tightly against my chest. Actually, when I really think about it, I guess that might sound like a strange introduction, but nothing in my life has ever worked out the way that I envisioned.

But life is unfair to most people, especially for the ones who really don’t deserve it. You see, I was often filled with unadulterated rage whenever I thought about the world’s injustices too much, but that kind of emotion seemed misplaced in the empty cemetery. So, I cleared my thoughts, surveying the quiet gravestones and deciding that it wasn’t surprising to see nobody else around considering the rain drenching my coat and jeans. But I had made her a promise that I intended to keep for the sake of my delicate heart and the memories that I recalled every night before I eventually succumbed to my dark slumber. 

At this point, the landscape was memorized inside my head, and I found her headstone among the others, isolated somewhere near the back of the lot. And I carefully lowered my head in greeting, kneeling down to read over the letters forming the syllables of her name. “Hello,” I whispered quietly. “I came to give you this.” I hesitated as I studied the rose, glancing up at the dark-gray sky because the idea of seeing blue again was hardly feasible. “I don’t want the rain to ruin it,” I said, placing the flower next to the others. “I hope you’re doing okay, wherever you are.”

Silence greeted my words, and I waited for something to happen before I decided that it was best to return home.

It was late when I finally walked onto my porch, wrenching open the front door with my wet clothes and damp hair. Thankfully, my grandmother wasn’t around to witness my condition because she would lecture me about how I might catch a cold. I shook my head at the thought, wandering upstairs to change into something more comfortable.

Afterwards, I felt more like myself, verging on the precipice of too optimistic, and I joined my grandmother in the kitchen as she cleaned. “There you are,” she said, smiling at me before pointing to the counter. “I found some old books today.”

“Oh?” I questioned, glancing at them briefly. “Are they from the library?”

“They used to be your mother’s,” my grandmother said and I immediately froze. “I guess they belong to you now,” she continued, smiling at me as she held out the books. I shook myself from my stupor as I took them wordlessly, looking at her for a moment longer before retreating into my bedroom for some necessary privacy.

Immediately, I brought the books to my bedside, placing them on my nightstand while I made myself comfortable on top of the faded sheets. Eventually, I reached for the one on top. “Levanter,” I read the cover, sneezing when the coat of dust on the cover tickled my delicate nose.

They must’ve been in the attic for storage, especially since they looked like children’s books. But if they belonged to my mother, I was inherently curious. So, I opened the book that I held on my lap as I perused the first page, reading over the words in a charming cursive font. “Once upon a time,” I said, sighing at the tired cliche. “There was a world where anything could happen...”

But the words became an all-encompassing desire after that, and I greedily read the words as if they were writing themselves across the pages. I lost track of time, failing to notice my alarm clock creeping closer to midnight. I let out a yawn as I started a new story, finding myself enchanted with the interesting world painting a clear picture inside my head. 

However, exhaustion was a disrupting force, and I eventually fell asleep with the book open on my lap, seeing the words dance behind my closed eyelids...

When I opened my eyes again, everything felt very strange. Even more so when I realized that I was outside somewhere, and the sun was hot as its rays penetrated the sparse covering of the clouds. “Oh,” I said, struggling to sit up. “Am I dreaming?”

It explained a lot about my surroundings, including the unusual glow blossoming around the landscape. Like a filter had been placed in front of my eyes, distorting everything around me. It made sense, and I didn’t linger on things too much as I stood tall and swiped my hands along my grass-stained jeans.

There was a path up ahead in the distance, shimmering with an intense golden color, and I started towards it without much consideration. It was inherently interesting, and I desperately sought a closer look. Yet, I grew increasingly frustrated when it felt like, no matter how many steps I took, the amount of space between me and the path remained the same. 

I huffed as I stood in place, propping my hands on top of my hips as I glared at the unattainable path. Was my mind playing tricks on me? Was I supposed to sit here and do nothing until my brain decided to wake me up again? 

“It does that to most people.”

My heart jumped into my throat at the sudden interjection, and I turned around so fast that I almost fell backwards. The unfamiliar voice belonged to a younger man, eyes narrowed in suspicion, and his orange-colored hair heightened the fierce sting of brown in his gaze. “Oh,” I managed, fanning my hand across my chest. “I didn’t see you.”

The man snorted. “You won’t ever make it there. It’s designed to trick people into pursuing something that they can never have.”

“Really?” I asked, gazing at him with wonder. “Have I met you before?”

Surely, my brain wouldn’t conjure someone into my dream unless I had encountered them before? It made sense because our dreams were reflections of our everyday lives. But I couldn’t place this strange man, and I was certain that I would remember him.

“I don’t think so,” he said, crossing his arms. “It looks like you don’t belong here.”

The observation made me laugh. “In my own dream?”

He paused for a moment, looking at me with wide eyes, before a smirk spread across his features. “It makes sense now,” he said, turning around as he started walking in the opposite direction. “You coming?”

I blinked twice before following him without another word.

His name was Minho, and he seemed to know more about me than I would’ve anticipated from a figment of my imagination. “I was reading a book,” I explained, clutching the tea cup that he had given me. “I think this place is my mind’s construction of the book’s setting.”

“Really?” Minho asked, and he seemed amused by my observation.

“It makes sense,” I said, somewhat offended that he seemed to be treating my words like a joke.

“She said the same thing,” Minho said, and there was a trace of sadness disrupting his previous elation.

“She?” I questioned, looking at him with wide, quizzical eyes. “What do you mean?”

Minho shook his head. “Forget it. This wasn’t supposed to happen again.”

“Again?”

Minho sighed, evidently growing frustrated with my questions. “You’ll wake up soon,” he said with a growl. “Do us all a favor and put that book away. You can’t read it ever again, understood?”

I was wary of the desperation in his tone, mixed with an underlying anger that I couldn’t identify. What had I done that was so bad? “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling very confused by my dream.

“Forget it,” Minho said, placing his tea cup onto the table next to him. “You’ll be gone soon enough.”

I didn’t like the way he had so quickly dismissed me, and I was searching for the right words to retaliate, when there was a sudden knock on the door to his cabin. “Shit!” Minho cursed, looking at me with a slight hint of desperation. “You need to get out of here!”

“What?” I asked, but Minho was already grabbing my arm, pulling me up and leading me into one of the other rooms. 

“Stay here,” Minho said, and his tone left little room for argument.

But that still didn’t stop my curiosity, and I was perturbed by his insistence on controlling what I did in my own dream. So, I cracked open the door, and it was just enough to see Minho welcoming another person into his living room. Even from a distance, I could tell that he was devastatingly handsome, eyes wide with brown orbs of caramel and a gummy smile that could light up an entire room. I was instantly enraptured, and it took everything I had to resist the urge to confront this unknown stranger...

“You’ve had company,” the newcomer said, pointing to the discarded tea cups.

“Chan came by earlier,” Minho lied, and I noticed that there was a very peculiar jerkiness to his movements, and he seemed nervous about something.

“Oh,” the stranger said. “I actually came by to grab something that I left from last time.”

“Really?” Minho asked, fidgeting with the tea cups as he walked into the kitchen.

“I’m sure it’s in the bedroom...” he said, and I instantly took a step back when I realized that he was walking in my direction.

“No! Wait, Jisung, don’t...!!”

However, it was too late for Minho’s warning and his attempt at interference, and I found myself face to face with this stranger who, quite suddenly, didn’t appear that unfamiliar anymore. In fact, I’m sure the recognition in his eyes reflected my own, and I watched as a single tear fell down the side of his cheek. “Y/N?” he questioned, and I opened my mouth to respond, but there was a sudden pressure against my chest. Like something was pulling me, and I had barely enough time to process the way Jisung seemed to lurch for me before I was jolting awake in my own bed, sweat perspiring against my forehead.

I took a deep breath, watching those vivid images race through my mind, before I glanced at the abandoned book lying on my nightstand. I reached out for it, fingers gliding across the lettering marking the title...But the I froze, eyes catching on an image that I hadn’t noticed before. Maybe it was because I didn’t expect to see a picture of me as child, smiling from between two boys who glared at one another from over the top of my head.

[jelly-originals]

絶望 - Groups

Short explanations for all the groups and places in our Unnamed City.

♡ Phoenix Wise High

The only school in the downtown area, largely known for being generally bad in both education and student body. Bullying is pretty rampant, with the teachers either not caring enough or being afraid of the students. They have at least one suicide a year, usually more, but the headmaster always manages to brush it under the rug and people conveniently never seem to complain. Notably notorious for producing a good chunk of the town's criminal population.

♡ Royal Sunrise

The largest high-rise building in the city. However, despite its "illustrious" reputation, it tends to draw a rather seedy crowd and most people who live there come out worse than they came in. Nobody quite knows what's going on there, but rumours of hauntings and even a secret government laboratory below the building fly around. Regardless, people tend to either disappear or die around there.

♡ La Dolce Vita Shopping Centre

A new and large building recently commissioned by the city council, the centre holds an impressive 147 shops! All of the employees present extremely cheery and always have a smile on their faces, though the longer they've been working there the bigger the smile and duller the eyes. And despite a few odd occurrences and deaths, customers keep coming around to explore and shop to their heart's content.

♡ Black Spade Gang

A rather small but notorious downtown gang. It's mostly comprised of orphans and homeless people, though both of these terms are relative within the gang. They all consider each other their family, and live at some secret location together. They have little regard for outsiders and they most certainly aren't above general violence and murder. In contrast to most other parts of the city's criminal underground, the gang is very visible and not afraid to show off. Despite this, police don't tend to intervene with their crimes...

♡ Primrose Preparatory Academy

The pride and joy of the city, the boarding school is known as an excellent source of education even to the outside world. Despite the city's overall bad reputation, many are willing to ignore it in order to send their children here to learn. However, the academy is still part of the city and has a very specific pecking order, one that most outsiders are not ready for when they arrive. To top it all of, most of the students are under constant stress from the cruelling workloads placed on them.

♡ Velvet Apple

A rather famous idol group that originates from the city, though by now they enjoy international fame and travel a lot. But every few months they come back home, despite how much the members seem to hate the city.

♡ Angelcare Hospital

The central hospital of the city. Despite it being the most modern care facility in the city, most people avoid going there unless they absolutely have to. Nothing's ever been confirmed, likely why it's still allowed to run, but rumours of purposeful malpractice, torture, and even human experimentation run rampant. Most people who come out of there don't report anything like that happening, though they always feel extremely unsettled afterwards.

♡ Spider Lily Orphan Home

Housed inside a rather decrepit looking building, the orphanage resides at the far edge of the city. Most of the time people don't pay much attention to it, and the residents don't pay much attention to the outside world either. The place isn't exactly full of children but no one can remember a time in the last 50 years when there hasn't been a single resident in it. Curiously enough most of the residents are never seen again once they turn 20 and are free to leave the place, though those who've 'escaped' can sometimes be seen wandering the streets.

♡ Molchalin Family

A rather eccentric family living in almost complete isolation from the rest of the city. They're the descendants of the city's founders, though they rarely take part in the city's political matters anymore. Regardless, they're quite well-loved by the citizens despite almost never being seen. But people do often wonder what secrets reside inside the walls of the large hilltop manor...

♡ DeVille Family

The crux of the city's criminal underground, the mafia group has been around since the founding of the city though it isn't until the last few generations that they've become the big and important family they are. While other mafia families do reside in the city, most of them are tiny enough for the DeVille's to ignore, and most others outside the city consider them to be too ruthless to be messed with.

♡ Heavenly Breath Church

A small but influential establishment, the church and its grounds are considered holy by most of the city and thus very few traverse there on normal days. In fact, no vandalism or crimes have ever been committed in or around the church, which considering the city's reputation is usually met with some suspicion. Frankly, no one would be surprised if it turned out to be a cult of some kind, which it 100% is not. Not at all...

♡ Gigglemug Psychiatric Hospital

The most dreaded of the city's care facilities, the hospital has been around for a long time and hasn't really caught up with modern times. Despite its bad reputation and frankly atrocious practices, it's still running and receives a rather steady stream of patients. Most of its residents are after all the ones society would rather not deal with, so the city is quite happy with letting it be.

♡ Wainwright Detective Agency

Established only a couple of years after the city's founding by one Carlisle Wainwright, it's often considered the one good point of the city as not even the harshness of its surroundings has corrupted the generations of detectives that have worked there. The agency is still in the hands of the Wainwright family and continues to fight crime in the ever-increasing darkness of the city.

♡ Yokomura Family

Having only lived in the city for a couple of generations, the assassin family fits in disturbingly well. Pretty much everyone around town is aware of the family's profession but no one has ever had any proof to bring to the table and thus they continue to operate in the shadowy depths of the city, largely unknown but daunting with their presence.

♡Devil Hill House

A daunting presence somewhere within the shadows of Holdem Forest, a lonely abandoned house sits on a hill. Nobody knows where it came from or even where in specific it is, but those who seek it eventually find it and then never return. It's in a constant bad state of repair, with rotting wood and several holes poking out everywhere.

♡ Fanfare Fits Carnival

A rather small but well-beloved fairground. It used to be a travelling circus, but once they ended up in the city they decided to stay for some reason. It's often considered a bright spot of the city, but the eery darkness that permeates the whole city still resides there.

♡ Wraithfeat Cemetery

A disturbingly filled cemetery smack dab in the middle of the city. Its dark and looming aura seems to at times haunt the entire city, as if cursing it for letting its citizens die and rot there. Despite it, most people have learned to ignore it and it thus gets visitors every once in a while to see the graves of their loved ones. Efforts to take care of the place have been made, but it always tends to look rather decrepit, overtaken by nature with cracked headstones.

♡ Crystal Mirror Club

A hidden nightclub only visited by the strangest of the city's residents. Despite its seedy appearance, it's actually considered a safe haven for the city's more supernatural folk. Nobody knows where it's actually located, as it has many different entrances around the city, but it is the most homely place in the dark and dreary city.

♡ Holdem Forest

A dark and dangerous forest at the edge of the city. There have been plans to demolish the whole place for years, but no one has ever gotten around to it and nobody particularly wants to. There's plenty of stories of people going in and never coming back, and every once in a while loud screeching yells are heard from inside it.

♡ Death Parade Offices

A large office building that works as the headquarters of the Death Parade corporation. Despite their international status, no one actually knows what the corporation does, though just about anyone in the city can recognize their workers from the perfectly pressed black and pink suits.

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Second Chances - Epilogue 1

Take Me Home

Warnings: None!

Word count: ~2000

Masterlist 

Read on AO3

This version of the epilogue has no kids between reader and Arthur - if you want kids, read version 2 here

You wake up to the sounds of birds singing. Stretching, you open your eyes to view the canvas above your head. It takes a moment for you to wake up enough to sit up, but when you do, you see the tent’s empty. Arthur must already be out. 

Stepping out of the tent, you find him kneeling next to the fire. He greets you as you gaze around Cattail Pond before sitting down next to him. He’s just finished cooking some bacon that he packed along for the trip. When you’re seated, he pulls you into a big hug, kissing your temple affectionately. 

It’s been five years since he found you near Aurora Basin in Tall Trees. Five long, mostly good years, although you both still often remember the time you spent with the gang, both the good and the bad. 

After you left the gang and Hamish died, you decided to head out west where you both belonged. He wanted to go down as far south as New Austin near Tumbleweed, but you never liked it much down there. Too hot, too dry. Not enough green. When he asked you where you’d prefer going to, you automatically said Big Valley near Strawberry. To your surprise, he happily agreed. 

He found a good patch in the forest near the huge meadow. Said it was the perfect spot for you both to spend the rest of your lives as there was plenty of space and lots of game to hunt, plus Strawberry wasn’t too far. There, Arthur built you a home. You said it would be easier to just buy one of those premade homes you’d been hearing about. It would take less time and energy, plus it could be built before winter, but Arthur hated the idea. He said he wanted to build you something with his bare hands. You were sure he did it because you’d both lost so much recently and he just wanted something good to come from it. 

However, money was very tight when he began. The only money you had was the little from your satchel, which certainly wasn’t enough to buy the right tools for the job or horses or oxen to help. Arthur recalled the money left in Blackwater and he was sure Dutch or any of the others hadn’t gone back looking for it. So one night, you both snuck in and found, in a large tree near a headstone marked “Greta Van der Linde”, a small chest hidden inside with over $50,000. Neither of you could believe your luck, but you wasted no time in taking it. 

With the new money, Arthur bought two oxen, tools and even hired a few hands to help him cut down the lumber and shape it before building it. While he and the hands worked, you worked on getting a garden going. 

Soon after, the two of you got married. It was easily the happiest day of your life. It was very simple and few guests were there to witness it. Charlotte was one of them. She’d travelled all the way from Annesburg to Strawberry, but she said she wouldn’t dream of missing it. Charles was there as well. Word of the gang’s misfortunes had gotten to him up north. He believed you were both dead, but when he found no signs of your bodies, he pieced the story together and knew you’d both head west. He was the only one from the gang you and Arthur saw after John left. You wished he, Abigail, Jack and Sadie could have been there as well, but you’d heard nothing from them. They probably believed you and Arthur to be dead. 

The structure of the house took months to build and then winter came, which forced Arthur to stop building onto it. It didn’t stop him from continuing to cut the smaller pieces, such as the roof tiles. He also worked on getting the fireplace built so that the two of you could huddle under your tent and be warm near the fire in what would be the living room. 

It took two years until the house was finished and Arthur couldn’t have been prouder. He said it was for you, but you reminded him it was for his benefit as well. A few months later, he built a barn so Buell could have a proper stall. The old morgan you’d stolen died a few months previously, taken down by a broken leg. It was sad, but not as painful as losing Rannoch or Rain, both of whom you still miss deeply. It was easy to see Arthur still missed Artemis. 

When the barn was built, you and Arthur bought two milking cows and chickens, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to make your home into a functioning ranch. Arthur had other ideas, however. He came home one day with four mares and an exceptionally handsome blood bay thoroughbred stallion named Jake, stating he wanted to breed horses. You couldn’t say no, he seemed so excited. 

You still felt bad that you couldn’t give Arthur children. You knew he’d be a wonderful father, but he said he was actually happy you couldn’t. He said that after Eliza and Isaac, he didn’t want kids because he was scared he’d mess up or that what happened to them could happen to you. His heart simply couldn’t bear that pain. 

Arthur hands you the bacon and then leans back a bit on his hands. 

“What you thinkin’ about?” he asks. 

“Nothing really. Just how pretty it is out here.” He chuckles softly and kisses your head again. You were the one who asked to go on this hunting trip, still not liking to be tied to one place for too long, as beautiful as your home is. Arthur’s much the same way. He simply spent too much time moving from one place to the next with the gang that he gets easily frustrated when he’s been cooped up too long. 

“Reckon we should head back soon though. Carson will probably need help fixin’ the fence.” 

You sigh. Carson is a boy from Strawberry. He was the first hand Arthur hired to help build the house and then, to your surprise, built him a small one-room cabin not far from the property. When you asked him why, he stated that when he helped Micah escape the Strawberry prison, Micah killed a man and his wife. Carson happened to be their only son and he was all alone, except for his yellow lab Lily. Arthur felt guilty for Carson’s fate, so he invited the boy to live on your land and work as a hand. 

It was one of the best things Arthur’s done. Carson’s a pleasant, kind and thoughtful boy. He works well with the horses, but his affection for them is nothing compared to how he treats Lily. 

You could tell Arthur really liked her as well, but she wasn’t his dog so they couldn’t have the same relationship. So, for his birthday, you bought Arthur a mountain dog puppy. He and that puppy were in love at first sight and he named him Timber. From that moment on, they were inseparable. 

Timber runs over to Arthur now, his paws dirty from digging and his tail wagging. Arthur rubs his ears happily.

“Hey boah,” he says. Timber groans happily and then turns to lick you in the face. “You ready to see Lily?” 

Timber barks. He and Lily are extremely close. Not only that, Timber makes for a wonderful herding dog. He’s very protective of the new foals and when the horses are let out in the big meadow to graze, he watches them like a hawk. 

You and Arthur pack up your tent and douse the fire before mounting up on your horses. You pat your dapple bay breton mare who you named Ruby after Rain’s mother. She’s as big and tough as Artemis was, but looks nothing like her otherwise.  Arthur hops onto Buell’s back and together, you ride home laiden with pelts.You’ll likely keep a couple and then sell the rest. Your saddlebags are bulging with fresh herbs, which you’ll hang in the barn to dry.

After nearly an hour’s travel, you see the trail leading off to Pinewood Crest, your home. Arthur had wanted to name it Hosea’s Rest but you stated you needed to keep a low profile and try your best not to have any affiliations with the gang for both your protection. Carson waves to you from the meadow, where the mares and their foals are grazing. Timber runs over to Lily, barking madly. 

“Welcome back, Mr. and Mrs. Collins,” he says, running over. 

You both say hello and head to the barn to dismount and unsaddle. It was Arthur’s idea to change your aliases. You suggested keeping the name Tacitus Kilgore as it was easy for you to remember, but he said it wasn’t smart. That name was likely associated with Dutch now. Instead, he said he’d go by the name William Arthur Collins, that way if you called him Arthur, people wouldn’t find it suspicious. You also changed your name to Y/F/N Alice Collins. 

After putting everything away and hanging the herbs up to dry, you go out and stand at the edge of the meadow, watching the horses and cows grazing, Timber and Lily rolling in the grass. Arthur comes up from behind and folds his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. 

You sigh and rest your head against him, still watching the foals. There’s a small colt who looks exactly like Rain at that age and you named him Thunder. He kicks his heels, trotting circles around his bay mother named Willow. She ignores him, continuing to graze with the three other mares. Thunder runs near Buell and kicks out near him in play, but Buell just lifts his head, rumbles and then goes back to grazing. Ruby starts rolling in the dirt, making you laugh.

“Thought you were helping Carson fix the fence?” you ask. 

“Ah, he’s got it for a minute. Besides, you looked so happy over here, had to come be with ya.” 

He kisses your temple again. You turn and meet his lips with yours. He smiles against your lips and then looks out to the meadow once more. After everything you’ve done over your life, after all the suffering and hardship, you’d do it all over again if you knew it’d lead you here. You are happy. 

The End

**Thank you all so much for going on this journey with me. It breaks my heart to end this fic, but it has been such an amazing ride. I would never have gotten far without all the encouragement I’ve received. I cannot express my gratitude in words, but I’m still amazed at how this led me to meet so many amazing people and the friendships I’ve made because of this fic that was inspired by the incredible game Red Dead Redemption 2. Thank you all so much!**

[daemongal]

The greatest gift

V x reader, angst, SFW.

T.W. mention of thoughts of suicide.

For some reason I have decided to celebrate V's special day with this. Hope you enjoy my first attempt at writing angst :)

___________

Today was V's birthday, and the anniversary of the day you met the tattooed man, a day you would never forget.

You had found him shambling around looking lost and disjointed, completely stark naked. You can’t really remember what went through your mind at that moment. Normally you’d stay as far away as possible from weird men, especially those who were happy enough to put themselves on display, but you remember feeling an intense desire to protect him, the moment you laid eyes on him; a feeling skin to how a mother feels the first time they hold their child in their arms.

You gave him your coat to cover his modesty and established that his name was V. You remember how taken aback he was at your generosity when you welcomed him into your home and how confused he was at your concern for his wellbeing. You fed him, worried that he hadn’t eaten in days considering how frail his body looked. He would always tell you that he was fine, and that his body was just weak.

When everything started going to hell, he was there at your side, protecting you with every ounce of his being. You would tell him repeatedly how strong he was, how brave he was but a look of guilt seemed to forever linger in his eyes. You took refuge with him at the Devil May Cry which remained vacant in a somewhat safer part of town, after its proprietor had fallen at the hands of the Demon King. V told you to leave, to evacuate from the town and stay away, but you couldn’t leave him. You knew you couldn’t protect him, but you still wanted to be there for him. He said you gave him strength, the strength to keep fighting.

He would leave in the mornings, scouting for any survivors, returning just after sunset each day with supplies and stories of his exploits. You would listen to him talk for hours, savouring every note of his voice. Each night you would retreat to bed and hold each other so tight that not even the splitting of the earth could separate you.

It was love, of that much you were sure. You still remember the look of pure disbelief on his face when you told him the first time. He told you he was undeserving, that your love was too good for him, that he was a weak and futile being that could never give you the happiness you truly deserved.

“If only he knew how wrong he was” you thought. You smiled to yourself, pulling yourself out of your daydream as you pressed the buzzer on the bus, signalling it to stop. You stepped down the ramp that had been lowered for you, flashing a smile at the bus driver as you left. You knew you had a bit of a walk to your destination, buses tended to just stick to the main roads these days, but you didn’t mind. You enjoyed the memories attached to these tracks.

You knew back then he had secrets, but you told him time and time again that his secrets were his and his alone and that you knew him well enough that anything he kept from you would be for your protection.

You sighed as you walked further up the track. You knew nothing would have changed if you had known, if he had told you the truth. His determination and drive were the features that drew you to him, and you knew nothing would have changed his goal or the outcome. Redgrave was slowly recovering from its loss, and you had a family now. It was chaotic and messy, but Kyrie’s cooking was second to none and Nero was like the brother you never had.

You hadn’t been to visit V in a while, a guilty pang hit your chest at the thought, but your life had become busy as of late and you knew he would understand. You smiled as you were nearing the house on the hill; his family home.

You knew there was something wrong that morning. He had woken you up earlier than usual, a darkness and passion in his eyes deeper than you had ever seen before. You had made love with unrivalled intensity as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, and etched his very presence onto your soul. He told you he would be back by nightfall, as he always was. You didn’t believe him, yet there you stood, at the door giving him his kiss goodbye, waving him off as you always did. The tears began to fall soon after. You remember the door opening that night and the elation you felt. When Nero stepped through the door, bloodied and bruised avoiding any and all eye contact, you dropped to the floor, legs no longer able to bear the despair you felt.

You took a deep breath as you stood at your destination. You put the breaks on the stroller and reached for the flowers resting against the hood. You had decided on white lilies, soft and gentle much like his heart. You placed them on the memorial as you dusted the headstone with your hand, removing any debris. You gently lifted your daughter out of their seat and held her.

“Hey V.” You started, taking a deep breath to still your words. “Sorry it’s been a while, I’ve been pretty preoccupied.” You gazed lovingly towards your daughter. “Isn’t she incredible darling. Born of our love. Your legacy.” You pressed a kiss to her soft head to calm your shaking breath. You promised that you would always be strong for him, and that wasn’t going to change.

“She has your eyes. The nurses said they’d never seen a new born like her; lily white hair and eyes that looked like they’d seen the world five times over. Nero's enamoured with her. Calls himself Uncle Nero, he’s even stopped swearing, said he doesn’t want to be a bad influence, I know, you’d have to see it to believe it. Nico's determined that her first words are going to be dead weight.” You laughed quietly to yourself, fighting back the heat rising in your face and the stinging in the corners of your eyes.

“Still no sign of Dante returning, or Nero's old man. I hope they’re both ok. I’d like to meet him sometime, Virgil that is. Tell him how lucky he is to have such a great son. I don’t think it’ll be long before little Eva has herself a cousin. I’ve seen the way Kyrie looks at him when he holds her.” She held your index finger tightly in her hand as you spoke.

“Oh yeah, I hope you don’t mind, I named her after your mother. You were always at your happiest when you spoke about your childhood and I wanted to picture that smile whenever I looked at her.” You paused for a moment to gather your thoughts .

“I’m so sorry that you weren’t here to... to hold her with... me...” your vision blurred as you felt a familiar warmth on your cheeks, as the tears began to pour from your eyes against your control. Your arms shook as you placed Eva back in her seat and collapsed to your knees, hands against your face, throat burning from fighting back the tears and chest heaving with every intake of breath.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t do this! I never wanted you to see me like this. I needed to be strong for you V, I was your strength, I was your reason to keep fighting. I’ve needed you so much these past few months, I’ve fought so hard. I’ve struggled so much. Every time I look at her, I see you. If it wasn’t for her I... I... probably wouldn’t even be here.” You were sobbing uncontrollably, spilling your heart out, everything you wanted to hide and conceal behind a facade. But you were breaking, you couldn’t keep it up any more.

“I was ready to join you V, oh so ready. And then I found out, I had a life inside of me; a life that we created together. Even though you’re not here, every part of you that has been left behind is keeping me going, keeping me alive, protecting me. Someone weak couldn’t do that, someone weak couldn’t create such beauty.” The tears eased as you glanced towards your daughters peaceful face. You wiped your eyes, the tears stilling for long enough for you to regain some of your composure.

“Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a heaven in hells despair.” You read the words engraved into the headstone in front of you, tracing them with your fingers as you did. “I spent many a long night reading your book. The only peace I could find was in its pages. I read this one from the hospital bed the night I found out about our treasure and nothing has ever resonated with me more.”

You shared a few moments of silence, before a familiar gurgling began from behind you. You chuckled as you stood up. “For someone who used to struggle to clear a plate of food, you sure made one hungry baby.” You lifted her and cradled her against your breast. “Thank you , V. You’ve given me the greatest gift I could have imagined. How something so pure could have been born from a hell so grim, only you could have done this.” You looked down the hill to see the familiar van waiting. Nico knew you were coming today and offered to pick you up on her way back home, knowing you’d probably not want to face public transport.

“Looks like my ride is here. Nico's always on time now, and her driving has never been better. She realised her driving was not child safe in the slightest. How I made it to the hospital in one piece when I went into labour I'll never know. I don’t know who was freaking out more, her or Nero!” You smiled at the happy memories. You had so many of them now, and it was all possible because of him.

“Happy birthday, V. I’ll make sure she knows who her father was and how incredible he was.” You placed Eva back in the stroller as she gives you a content gargle.

“I’ll make you proud V. I’ll do it for the both of us... I love you.”

___________

A/N: I decided to go with a scenario where you were never told about what really happened in the Qliphoth. As far as you were aware, he died at the hands of Urizen (just in case anyone cared enough to wonder haha). Also, for the purpose of this fic, Devil May Cry is located in Redgrave, just seemed like a good place to stow away in my mind.

I'm sorry ;_;

[tealsnapdragonfics]

Hallows Eve Engadement pt 4

Ania POV

With a snap of my fingers, the haunt cleaned itself up. The minute the room turned normal, I was face to face with my grandfather, who, mind you, was looking rather concerned. Tears slowly fell from my eyes as I looked down in shame. His long fingers lifted my chin up, removing my tears with his thumb, and he pulled me into a warm but firm hug.

“I broke my promise. I said I’d never lose control but failed. I let you down, I let Klaus down, I-I... ” As I whimpered into his chest, he slowly stroked my back before speaking.

“Karma, look at me.” His voice had an authoritative tone, so I figured it best not to argue. Peeking up, I met with a familiar smile, the same gaze I saw the day I lost my parents. “You never broke your promise. You entrusted Tiva with the safe word I taught you just in case you lost control. Any other demon would have given into the urge and their pride and not told anyone their safe word.” With a smile, he ruffled my hair. Giggling, I tried to push his hand away.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just feel bad because I’m afraid of what could happen with Klaus. What if he doesn't think the same? What if he leaves me for a mortal girl he can grow old with? What if-” Firmly, he placed his finger to my lips.

“Sweetheart, those are only what if’s, not realities. Soon enough, you'll understand that sometimes, you stress yourself out too much. Now, go enjoy the rest of your birthday.” Hades faded away into the dark shadow of the wall, leaving me in the room alone.  

Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed a faint shadow pass by. Rolling  my eyes I face the shadow and say. “Nice try, Undertaker. What are you doing here anyways?” Letting out his signature laugh, he replied.  “Can't a grandfather check up on his only granddaughter and wish her a frightful birthday?”

“Right…” I knew that the Undertaker’s motivations were almost always for pleasure and business combined. “Who are you taking away tonight?”

Silence. The shadow appeared to wince in pain as if I had pushed on a pressure point. It was clear to me that whoever he had to take away, the Undertaker would be doing so at his own dismay. Who could he possibly not want to take away? It disturbed me that for once, he was not happy about doing his duty to Death. If it wasn’t me, then… “So help me, if you're here for Klaus…”

The Undertaker laughed hysterically. “If it was him, I'd let you do it yourself. No, some random student is about to die of disease, and I was gonna make your cousin do the deed.”

Who’s my cousin again?” Silence. It took me a few seconds to realize who he meant. “Right… I forgot about that.” He kind of has a duty when it comes to teaching ‘new’ reapers. (You may be wondering how I’m related to a Reaper, but that’s a story best left alone... Maybe another night.) “Well, I'll let you go ahead and bug the cousin,” I said just as the shadow faded into my shadow.

Snapping my fingers, my armor faded away, replaced with a orange corset lined with black weaves that appeared to represent the thorns normally wound around my silver crown. A black skirt hiked up in front, cascading from my hips down to the floor. My shoes heightened, putting me in sleek black combat boots that zip up the sides. Being left alone in the room, I walked myself out the throne room doors.

    The demonic melody filled the ballroom as Elias began playing classical Halloween medley Moon Trance. It was a catchy song, so it wasn’t a surprise the dance floor was soon crawling with people. On the other hand, no one wanted the center of the room, which resulted in awkward dancing. A familiar arm circled my waist slowly pulling me towards where everyone was dancing.

As Klaus dragged me towards the center, I remembered that I had the honor of announcing the Hallow’s Eve king and queen. Without even counting I knew who it would be. No demonic meddling involved... besides getting Zach’s help to pick the crown for the unlucky gal.  Zach was silently snickering while watching Tiva trying to get her boyfriend Luca Orlem to dance with her. They were both mysterious in their own right and Tiva loves his sadistic creativity, so it’s a win-win situation. Luca’s pranks ceased to hurt anyone, and Tiva FINALLY accepted Luca’s feelings even though it took him 7 months to succeed (But that’s only because Tiva’s a hard ass).

Resting my head on Klaus’s shoulder, we contently danced, ignoring the spotlight we were in. After all, demons don’t give a shit about anything unless it’s condemned souls for feeding or our closest friends. Being crowned Prince and Princess of the dance definitely wasn’t on that list (Damn you, Zach). Zach’s creepy yet familiar cackle filled the room. I couldn’t help sending Tiva a look that said, what the hell is he up to? The students stopped dancing and Elias made the music faint away, so Zach could continue his spheil. “It’s the time all you pathetic wizards have been waiting for. Your King, Queen, Prince, and Princess shall soon be announced!” Shooting my gaze to Tiva, I mouthed to her. DID YOU PUT HIM UP TO THIS? Tiva mouthed back, You’re the one in charge of this, not me!

Zach continued the greatly anticipated announcement, “On this Hallow’s Eve Night, the Prince and Princess is none other than our Emperor Klaus Goldstein and his lovely Empress Anyia Michaelis!” I smirked.

I knew exactly what was gonna happen next.

Nodding my head towards Zach, he continued. “Now for the main event. Your Hallow’s Eve King and Mysteriously lovely Queen are none other than our Favorite Prankster Luciano Orudeus Gedonelune (Luca Orlem) and the sneaky, insane, half-Reaper Tiva Nasia Nightshade!” (SPOILER ALERT) The look on their faces was the best thing ever.

*Time skip brought to you by hours of dancing and a lifetime supply of endless punishment for Zach*

Having taken many pictures and danced for hours, Klaus began to lead me somewhere alone in the light of the full moon. The music soon faded away, the endless woods remained semi-dark with an elegant shimmer from the moon, and Klaus’s figure continued to lead me along. Granted, I could see where I was going, but his sudden adventure still had me curious. The further we walked, the more aura shadows I noticed out of the corner of my eye. I wanted to know where he was taking me, so I gave in to the urge. “Nascha, where are you taking me?”

It’s been awhile since I last called him that, so I figured now was the best time. After all, we were ‘alone.’ Persistent in his guiding, he simply turned his head, smiled, and kept leading me deeper into the trees. Soon, we found ourselves in a open and wide field, with noticeable tombstones left and right. Once I spotted an ancient royalty headstone, I knew exactly which cemetery we were standing in.

“How did you even...” I was at a loss for words. There’s no way he could have found the forbidden Michaelis cemetery by himself, right? Before I could react, I began to hear a mysteriously familiar violin song playing from the distance (Song of a Caged Bird - Lindsey Stirling). I hadn’t heard Lindsey’s Song of a Caged Bird since... not since I last picked up my father’s violin and played it for his birthday, then his funeral. My eyes widened as unfamiliar tears began to fall from my demonic eyes. Shimmering dancing lights began to dance around alongside the music, replaying the days that my parents were still alive. It was a lie to say I didn’t desperately want them back.

Turning to Klaus, I could tell that this was his birthday present to me, an opportunity to see my parents one last time. Without saying a word, I walked up to him and buried myself in his arms. Holding me tightly, he whispered in my ear, “Koko, turn around and open your eyes.” Doing as he said, I turned around and was face to face with none other than my raven-haired father and blonde-haired mother. Covering my mouth, I couldn’t help letting out a quiet sob.

Naturally, my parents heard it.

My dad walked towards me and pulled me into his chest for an unusually heart-warming hug. Holding me closely, my mother came next to my dad and stroked my hair, speaking, “My little crow have grown into such a beautiful and powerful young lady.” My father scoffed, knowing full well that I would not accept such a title, and spoke in the soothing voice I’d so longed to hear, “Kitten, we’re sorry we weren’t able to be there for you like real parents, but we never left your side, not once.”

Gripping them both harder, I whispered, “If you were here the whole time, why couldn’t I see you all the time? I alway needed you both, even if I am a Demon-Reaper Wizardess.”

Smiling down at me, my father replied, “Silly kitten. You know full well that the dead resides on a different plane, with the exception of those who cannot or chooses not to move on. It doesn't mean that we aren't with you all the time. Especially not with part of ourselves inside of you.”

“I missed you so much. Do you have to leave again?”

“Who says we ever did? Happy birthday, little kitten,” my father lovingly said as he and my mother hugged me tightly. I closed my eyes to take in as much of them as I could. The tightness of the hug faded away, but the warmth never did. When I finally opened my eyes, they were gone, replaced by dancing lights that soon became faint as the song came to a close. Turning to Klaus, the rude brainiac who could be very sweet at times, I was met with a warm smile and kind eyes. Unable to hold myself back, I punched him in the arm before giving him a hug. “What was that for?”

“You made me cry. I don't like crying,” I replied with a smirk on my face. Rolling his eyes, he took his arms and wrapped them securely around my waist. Pulling me closer, he whispered sweet nothings into my ear before finally speaking in a nervous voice, “Ania, I want to ask you something. I’ve been meaning to ask for a while, but now, I cannot delay any longer.”

Klaus is NERVOUS? That’s unusual. He’s normally calm and composed, even in dire situations. He’s starting to worry me... What question could he possibly have that he’s been waiting to ask? I stared at him, waiting for him to keep talking. After a moment of awkward silence, he finally got the hint that I was waiting for him to ask whatever was on his mind. “Well…”

“Well?” I was starting to get impatient. And then, out of nowhere, Klaus kneeled on one knee only for him to pull out a small black box. Huh? He opened it, revealing an amethyst gold ring, and asked the last question I expected to come out of his mouth, “Anyia Kai Lainey Michaelis, will you marry me?” Wait a minute… WHAT?!?!

I was completely thrown off track. He’s not that good at keeping secrets from me! How could I have been so oblivious to this? Unless.... Looking out of the corner of my eye, I noticed two shadows, one fairly shorter than the other, standing in the trees. The tall shadow appeared to be snickering, whereas the other calmly walked up to the tall shadow and smacked him on the back of the head, only for said figure to kiss the shadow. Oh, Tiva. Of course Klaus asked for your help. At least she finally manned up enough to kiss Luca. Once I realized Klaus was still in front of me, I quickly looked back at him, nervously awaiting my answer.

I finally answered, “Yes.”

Sighing in relief, Klaus stood slipped the ring on my finger and pulled me to him with a smile. Peeking from the ring to his god-like features, I asked, “Are you sure you can handle me? I mean, I am a sadistic demon after all, Oh, and I forgot to mention that I'm also part Reaper.” Letting out a soft chuckle, Klaus replied, “Love, if I didn't think I could, I wouldn't have considered proposing in the first place.” Smiling widely, Klaus pulled me against his chest and laid a playful kiss to my neck, then to my lips.

This was One Hell of an Engagement on this Hallow’s Eve night.

[youre-not-a-cat-youre-a-rat]

Title: “No Such Thing as Evil Love” (1/2)

(AO3)

Rating: E (for eventual make-up sex)

Words: 10,485

Summary:

Killian’s a witch. Which (ha!) means his life is complicated enough without his ex rolling back into town. Especially since his ex is a demon.

Emma figures Killian can never forgive her for their disastrous relationship. But with her former boss, the literal Source of All Evil, out to destroy him and his brother, she’s not about to stand by and let it happen when she can help.

Not when the man she loves is in danger.

A Charmed AU (it’s on Netflix, kids) for @cssns.

A/N:

Here I am horrendously late for my drop date. A huge, huge thanks to @cssns for still letting me post as part of their event. And thank you for organizing it too, you guys. This summer has really just been kicking me in the ass, and if it weren’t for this event I probably wouldn’t be writing at all. But with everything going on, it feels so satisfying to still have created something, as late and wonky as it turned out to be.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to @huffleporg for zher kick ass edit and zher endless patience with my procrastination bs. I do not deserve zher.

(Also, @saffronlesbian doesn’t go here but she was kind enough to beta for me anyway, so thank you hon!)

Killian’s demonic ex was on his television.

He had been enjoying a quiet night for once. No innocents to save, no drama with his brother’s forbidden love life.

There she stood, in the graveyard set of his favorite campy, throwback horror flick. It was too reminiscent of the last time he’d seen her, surrounded by fog and headstones. Except now, instead of the gray blazer and white button-down she’d sported as a DA, she was in head-to-toe black. Literally straight from Hell.

“Killian,” she greeted him, her voice low and urgent. Even through the speakers - even with everything she’d done - that voice sent a thrill through his body.

“Emma,” he responded. “What are you doing in my television?”

There was a pause where she blinked at him. “I, uh, learned it from the Demon of Illusion. Remember him?”

“Yes, I remember killing him,” Killian said. “But I meant, why. Why are you interrupting my night in with Kill it Before it Dies, Emma?”

There was a pause, and Killian could swear he saw some sort of tension leave her little, desaturated figure. Then she shrugged. “I like this movie.”

Somehow this put Killian even more on edge. Emma wasn’t one to beat around the bush. Lie with gusto, perhaps, but not chat.

“Do you?” he asked, playing along out of dread. “Or were you just pretending to like it when we saw it together because you knew -”

“About your massive crush on Billy Appleby,” she said, naming the film’s hero. “I always thought his girlfriend was hotter, if it’s honesty you want.”

“I want honesty about why the bloody hell you’re here.”

She seemed to steel herself for a moment, before she asked, “Are you okay?”

The question threw him. She was watching him with worry. He didn’t like it. When he’d imagined them meeting again - and he imagined it much more than he cared to admit - she was often smug and biting, or cool and indifferent. Just purely, black and white, evil. No hint that she felt anything for him at all. And he felt nothing for her right back.

“The Source is gunning for you,” she said. The Source of All Evil. Her former master that had charged her with seducing and destroying him, lest Killian forget.

“Yes, I know,” he said. “He must be gunning for you too.”

A cold smile stretched her lips. “Right. So if I’m hearing about his plots to kill you, it must mean he wants you bad.”

Killian felt a prickle of unease. “What have you heard?”

“Some lower level guys at the bodega near the cemetery were talking about warlocks or something? Knowledge-stealing warlocks?”

“Oh them.” Killian relaxed. “Aye, we’ve met. We dispatched them today, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Well, good. The demons at the bodega made it sound like it was a done deal or something.”

“It was. Except they were the ones who were finished.”

“I just...thought I would give you the heads up,” she said, somewhat lamely.

“Right,” Killian said. The awkwardness of the encounter was catching up with them. “Well, if that’s all...”

She let out a dry little snort at the dismissal before starting to turn away. She stopped with her back to him for a moment before turning back. “If you need anything…” she trailed off, looking pained.

“Excuse me?” Killian said, incredulous.

“I just…” she floundered again before pushing on, determinedly. “If you, your brother, whatever, if you need any help -”

“We don’t,” Killian snapped. “Not from you.”

He could see her guilt warring with her stubbornness, but finally her face shuttered, and her form dissolved into the soft, grey, static of the scenery, as if she’d never been there at all.

Killian let the movie play, lovely Billy Appleby and his plucky girlfriend hacking away at zombies in an Emma-free cemetery set, but he saw none of it. He sat there in his sweats, rubbing absently at the stump where his left arm ended, lost in memories of blonde hair and cautious green eyes.

It had never been easy, dating as a witch. Since that night a few years ago when Killian had sat in the attic reading his mother’s spellbook and found himself wishing that it wasn’t just some kitschy relic she’d found at a flea market and stowed away. Wishing that she’d left him a larger purpose than to wander the earth, a disappointment to his brother, to her memory.

The night he made a wish and it came true.

No, since then, it hadn’t been easy to carry on a grand romance when he was busy protecting innocent people from warlocks and demons and other things that go bump in the night.

But it hadn’t bothered him. He had his fun when he could and left the heartbreak to his brother. Liam promptly fell for the handy-woman who kept their mother’s unreasonably old house from from falling apart, just in time for her to turn out to be their supernatural caretaker sent by the heavens - where they kept a strict no fraternization policy, apparently.

As much as Killian had hated to see his brother unhappy, a small, spiteful part of himself had felt some satisfaction to not be the screw up of the family for once.

He shouldn’t have held his breath.

He remembered confessing this to Emma one night when she’d driven him home in her yellow bug (a ridiculous choice for a vehicle, in retrospect, but at the time he’d been enamored...at the time).

He hadn’t gotten her on a date yet, and he’d been stupidly over the moon to share space with her through the city traffic.

“I was a late bloomer,” he told her. Somehow, and to his delight, they’d landed on the topic of their romantic pasts.

“You?” she’d said, voice dripping with disbelief.

“Aye, me!” He lowered his chin to peer over at her cheekily. “All this takes time to perfect, you know.”

She’d laughed, surprising them both perhaps, that such a stupid line had worked. God, she had a lovely laugh.

It took her shooting him an expectant look for him to remember he’d been in the middle of a story. He’d been gazing at her like a dolt.

“Right. Well, I got to school and I was very happy to discover that suddenly people seemed to reciprocate my attraction to them. And I had a lot of good, harmless fun for a while.”

“Uh-oh.”

He hummed in response. “But then I went and fell for a woman who was married.”

She sucked in a breath.

“It gets better,” he said. “Her husband turned out to be one of my professors.”

She glanced at him, quickly, before she turned back to the road. But it was enough that he’d caught the surprise, that he’d caught the recognition. That he’d caught his breath, because the expression mirrored what he felt around her. She felt familiar to him.

“Shit,” she murmured, heartfelt and knowing.

“Aye,” he said, faintly. “So, naturally, he failed me. And there was a lot of dramatics and fights, and when they separated she broke it off with me too, saying she preferred to be on her own for a while, find herself. Which I can understand now, but as a wee, twenty-two year-old, I was very unreasonable about. So she left, and I dropped out.”

“You ran,” she said. Not passing judgement. Just with that same note of familiarity.

“Aye,” he confirmed, the memory of his bitter anger distant, dulled. “And now my brother is...in a similar situation. No one’s married or anything, but he could get in trouble if anyone found out he’s involved with this person. And…”

“And you’re enjoying not being the fuck up this time?” she guessed. Her smile was sad, but he found himself smiling in return.

“Something like that,” he said, and they sat for a moment in silence, as he wondered, a little nervously, at the rightness of the moment. Of her company. Of her.

Blissfully oblivious to the fact that he was still the bigger fuck up.

That he was falling for a demon.

Emma shimmered back into the mausoleum, the cold, silent stone a shock after the black and white fuzz of Killian’s horror movie.

She sighed as she sat down, folding her legs under her. Why the fuck did I do that? She’d spotted those lower level assholes on her usual twilight skulk to the grocery store. She’d doubled back to listen in on their conversation, just to make sure they weren’t there for her. One mention of the Charmed Ones and she was hightailing it to the manor, to see him. To see him alive, as if she could do anything if he wasn’t.

But he’d been there. A witch blessedly whole and living, and pissed. And as a bonus she got to issue him a completely useless warning.

Emma groaned, and gave into the impulse to sprawl out on the floor and wallow.

He’d looked good. Better. Well. Anything would look better to her than the expression of fury and betrayal he’d been wearing the last time they’d seen each other.

Shut up. She’d relived that night enough. There wasn’t much else to do since she’d spent the last few months sleeping a couple dozen yards away from where it happened. His expression was burned in her mind.

She should have run when they’d tasked her with killing him.

She thought back to their first meeting. It hadn’t been hard to catch his attention. She’d been gearing up to send him a few suggestive, challenging looks. Maybe lace some innuendo into the conversation. But he’d done all the work for her, breaking into a wide, crooked grin immediately. Repeating her name with sinful relish when she told it to him, earning a pained look from his brother.

It was probably the most passive way she’d ever made first contact with her target.

Her masters hadn’t been as confident.

“This will be difficult for you, Emmaline,” said the cloaked son of a bitch she’d reported to.

“Why should it?” she’d said, thrown. “It’s not like I’ve never pulled a seduction on a mission before.”

“A seduction, not a romance.”

Emma squinted at him. “They’re...the same thing?”

“You may know how to bluntly proposition the right type of floozy to gain access or information. But this is an entirely different animal. Humans prefer to show vulnerability when they’re expecting vulnerability in return.”

Vulnerability. Emma shifted. Yeah, she could see how that was going to be a problem.

“Your hardness,” her master continued, “feeds your strength, your ferocity. But this situation calls for a certain skill in manipulation that I fear you lack. This is a dance, not a blitzkreig.”

She hated having to take their criticism. Almost as much as she hated when they were right. Faking vulnerability came about as easily as the real thing for Emma.

Ironically, it seemed like Killian was better suited for her job. She couldn’t help admiring him when he’d seek her out to probe her for information on obviously supernatural cases. His questioning was never that subtle, but his breezy flirting served as a pretty damn effective distraction. If she weren’t - as a demonic pawn sent to kill him - completely aware of what he was doing, she might even walk away from their little interviews totally clueless.

He was kind of a pro. And he was flashily beautiful. But that wasn’t what got to her.

She’d asked him out. She thought he’d appreciate having the tables turned, her pursuing him instead of the other way around.

Appreciation wasn’t quite his reaction, though. There was a flash of something in his eyes, an eager, earnest thrill. He hadn’t expected her to make a move, and he was excited that she had.

Vulnerability.

It had felt weird. It had felt weird that it felt like anything at all. Emma had a century of this work under her belt, and when she snagged a target, one thing she didn’t do was feel. And she certainly didn’t feel...dread?

Was it because she could sense, even then, how fucking endearing he was? How important he was going to become?

He was more dangerous than her masters knew, more than they could understand. More than she could foresee.

So they’d gone on that date. And as planned, they’d hit it off. Even though Killian had to run off to deal with the lower-level spawn she’d sent to case the manor house.

Emma had felt a shock of disappointment when he left. She tried to ignore it.

It went on like that for a bit. Dinners. A movie. A really fun night at his brother’s bar. Killian had been on duty and she’d sat close and watched him show off, mixing multiple cocktails at once, tossing bottles, flirting with everyone.

Things always ended chastely when he had to leave to deal with a very vague problem. “Family emergency,” was his favorite excuse. It wasn’t even a lie, really, Emma marveled.

A few times she’d had to take care of a demon or warlock that got too close to him for comfort. She told herself it was demonic pride, her being territorial over her target. As if she’d ever felt anything like pride when it came to her work.

The first time they kissed was the same night they first had sex.

It had been...a lot. Too much.

She had wondered, if he kissed everyone this way, and if so, how he could survive it. He kissed her with no abandon, tilting up into her mouth. She could feel him pouring all of himself into her, handing it all over. And worst of all she could feel herself answering in kind; all that she was for all that he gave.

She couldn’t tell which one of them was leading and which was following, hopelessly. She couldn’t tell who the hell she was, what she was doing.

Too much. A little too raw, too naked, too dirty, too intimate. It had been very humanly imperfect, and very unnaturally good.

They shook, afterwards, clutching each other, and through the haze of her afterglow Emma had felt the dull, creeping, choking fear. That it would end. That he would end.

That was it, really. What she felt whenever another demon got too close.

It was what she felt when the Source sent Cruella.

“Together again, eh, partner?” the Demon of Rage had purred. “The Charmed ones won’t know what hit them.”

Emma’s jaw had tightened and she’d said nothing as she listened to Cruella explain the Source’s plan.

The plan had been to incite a feud between the brothers, forcing them to use their magic against each other which would sever their magical bond and strip them of their powers. Then Emma could pick them off when they were vulnerable.

The first part worked, if only temporarily. Emma didn’t follow through on the second.

And now she was sleeping in her father’s grave with the evil masses bearing down on her. She wasn’t even able to use her shimmer to teleport too much since she’d discovered they could track her with it. But it didn’t matter. That wasn’t what scared her.

She’d felt it rising up in that bodega. The horrible possibility that he was gone. Struck from the earth.

He’s fine. She’d seen it with her own damn eyes that he was fine. It had been worth all the embarrassment, all the guilt of facing him again.

But the fear didn’t abate as she yanked off her boots and crawled into the tent she’d set up in the corner of the mausoleum. Killian lived, but she knew a lot about the Source’s repertoire, and when she laid down and closed her eyes she couldn’t stop herself from picturing the thousands of ways he could die.

Killian decided to pretend it hadn’t happened. It was easy. He’d been steadfastly pretending Emma was dead since that fateful night several months ago, had told Liam and Belle so. There was no reason to drop the act now.

He could have easily dreamt it. Though when he did dream of Emma it was never quite as odd or uncomfortable.

Sometimes he’d dream of the last time they’d seen each other. Sometimes he’d imagine her crueler, cartoonish, laughing at him for failing to see her true nature. Sometimes he’d go with her when she shimmered away, sometimes he’d ask her to stay and she did.  Sometimes she really did die at her masters’s hands, shocked and alone when he couldn’t reach her in time to stop it.

Those might be the worst.

Sometimes he’d dream of her in his bed, rolling her eyes at some terrible joke of his, making him laugh with her own barbed pillow talk. Her nails biting into his shoulders as he thrust into her, she spoke his name in a low, urgent, whisper. Eyes bright with something like wonder, full with something like -

“Killian.”

He blinked to find Belle giving him an irritated look as she stirred the eggs she was making for them. This had become a routine for them, having a late breakfast while Liam went to check on the bar. That is, if there was no supernatural situation that required their attention.

Killian shook off his thoughts and tried to dazzle his sister-in-law with a smile. “I apologize, love. What do you need?”

“Would you get the door please?” Belle repeated, her expression half fond, half annoyed. Proof that his smile had done the trick even with his scattered thoughts.

He noticed finally, the hesitant rap at the door, repeated from a few minutes before, though he’d been too lost to absorb the sound at the time.

Probably Liam, he thought. Can literally be in two places at once, but can’t remember his bloody keys when he leaves the house.

His grin died when he opened the door.

It was Emma. Life-size, flesh and blood, full technicolor Emma - though she was still all clad in black. For a moment Killian was struck mute.

And then he found his anger again. “What are you doing here?”

She watched him, wary. “I thought about it...and, I want to help.”

Killian closed the door in her face.

Through the stained glass, he could see that her shadowed form wasn’t moving

“Killian,” Belle called, “who -”

He stepped out to the porch and closed the door behind him, hoping Belle would just leave him to deal with this without ever discovering what he was dealing with.

No such luck.

He’d barely fixed Emma with an accusatory look before the door swung open again to reveal his sister-in-law, wide-eyed.

“Emma?”

“Belle,” she answered, looking tired.

“You -” Belle struggled, “You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Good morning to you too.”

Belle balked at her.

“Look,” Emma said, shifting her gaze back to Killian. “Last night I heard you were dead. I’m glad you’re not, but I really think I could contribute to you staying not dead.”

“Goody for you,” he growled. “I’ve been just fine without you so far.”

“So far you haven’t been hit with the worst the Source can throw at you.”

He gave her a cold smile. “I thought that was you.”

She didn’t flinch. Her gaze was as steady as ever, as inscrutable. He remembered suddenly, the look she given him when they’d first met. He and Liam had been questioning her on one of her clients and naturally he’d thrown some sort of mindless, teasing comment at her. Her green eyes were just as harsh and unreadable as they were now - then she’d thrilled him like a gathering storm. She’d looked at him, and he’d been filled with a joyful recklessness.

He ignored the sharp pain of the memory, fought not to look away.

“You’re not wrong,” she said quietly, “but that just means I have a shot at matching whatever he throws at you.”

Her tone should have been as neutral as her expression, but Killian could hear something disturbingly like concern laced into her voice. It made him snarl. “What are you proposing? That you be my bodyguard? Love, I’d have to bloody trust you -”

“And you don’t. Got it,” she muttered.

“- in order for that to work. But even if I did, isn’t all of Hell out looking for you? Wouldn’t we just be inviting them to attack us even more than usual?”

“This is the last place they’d expect me to be,” she said, her voice quiet and imploring. “No fugitive demon’s going to hang around the scene of the fuck up that made them a fugitive in the first place.”

There was a rustling of leaves that warned her enough to duck as the potted plant that normally sat by the porch steps came flying at her head. The pot shattered as it hit the wall next to the door. Killian raised his hands to shield himself from the spray of dirt.

When he looked up again, another pot was flying towards her. He was moving before he could process it, time slowing as he stepped beside her, power rushing up to gather at his fingertips as his focus narrowed and pushed.

The pot froze in mid air, dirt and roots tipping over the clay rim.

Liam stopped just in front of the porch, a third plant hovering in the air beside his head. He glared at Emma for a few moments before turning to Killian - who felt his stomach sink. His brother’s expression was at peak disapproval.

“Why isn’t she dead?” Liam asked.

“Hi, Liam,” Emma said, lightly.

Liam ignored her, but to Killian’s surprise he lowered the plant-missle. “We don’t have time for this,” he said. “We have a situation.”

“What is it?” Killian asked.

Liam shot a pointed look at Emma as he joined them on the porch. Behind them Belle stepped out to bear hug the potted plant still trapped in mid-air in anticipation of its un-freezing.

“Leave it, love,” Liam murmured, stepping past Emma to take his wife’s hand and lead her into the house.

After an expectant look from his brother, Killian followed, leaving Emma alone with the suspended plant. She stepped away just in time for it to be released, clay shards and a cloud of dirt splattering onto the porch.

Young witch in trouble. Petty thieves hoping to exploit her power for their own gain. Distress call picked up by ouija which Killian had forgotten to take home the last time he’d brought it to the bar.

Business as usual. Just a normal day. Liam even tutted at him a bit about leaving the ouija at the bar despite the fact that they wouldn’t have caught the girl’s message if he hadn’t. However, Killian could sense that his brother was trying to be kind by giving him the lesser of two scoldings.

Liam filled them in on the details while Killian performed the scrying spell, letting the crystal swing over their worn paper map of the city until it landed, with harsh tap, on the auto shop. He’d been ready to ward Emma off before they left but she was gone when they stepped out onto the porch. It was uncomfortably quiet in the car as they drove to the girl’s location. Belle kept shooting him concerned looks over her shoulder.

“Maybe I should have stayed behind?” she suggested. “In case she came back?”

“She won’t,” Liam said. “If she has any sense.”

Belle looked thoughtful. “She didn’t seem like she was there to hurt us.”

“When we met, she didn’t seem like she was there to hurt us,” Killian said. “That’s sort of her specialty.”

“You think she would try the same trick twice?” Belle asked.

Killian didn’t answer. The real question was if he was stupid enough to fall for the same trick twice. He tried not to think about the stab of...whatever he’d felt when he realized she’d left. It definitely wasn’t disappointment.

They parked uphill from the auto shop. It seemed to be closed, the garage doors closed, dust accumulating on the windows. The midday summer sun bounced harshly off the white of the sign, the red lettering that spelled out Eddy’s Auto peeling away. An old van parked in the lot was the only sign that anyone was home.

Belle elected to be the distraction, faking a flat tire. This was usually her role as being both naturally and super-naturally angelic lent her an air of innocence. She would draw kidnappers attention while Killian and Liam ducked in through the back to find the girl.

It all went fairly smoothly. Liam broke the lock on the back door with no fuss, and there was no one in the musty stockroom except a very frightened little girl, gagged and tied to a chair.

“Lucy?” Killian asked her.

She nodded vigorously, her red-rimmed eyes wide.

He smiled and spoke gently to put her at ease. “We got your message, lass. We’re the rescue team.” He showed her his pocket knife. “I’m going to cut you out now, alright?”

She nodded again. Liam walked to the door that led out to the front room where they could hear Belle chirping about not knowing what a lug wrench was. Killian sawed through the strip of fabric that covered the poor girl’s mouth. He managed to hold in the grimace as he removed the second wad of cloth they had stuffed between her teeth. She sputtered and coughed before rasping, “Hurry, the other one went out but he’d said he’d be back.”

Killian dutifully started working on the zip-ties that bound her to the arms of the chair while Lucy continued to chatter in a frantic whisper. Apparently they’d been threatening to hurt her parents if she didn’t help them break into a bank.

“And how on earth were you supposed to do that?” Killian murmured. He managed to free her right hand and started on her left.

“I can make things that run on electricity go weird. If I concentrate enough, I can make them turn off.”

Killian let out a low whistle. “Impressive. You must be powerful.

That won him a shaky smile. She was a tough lass.

A swoop in his stomach, and the hair at the back of his neck rising were his only warning before the vision bloomed in his mind.

The back door slamming open, followed by another bang, this one the blast of a gunshot, a bullet tearing through his shoulder.

Killian blinked away the premonition. Lucy stared at him, probably at the pained expression he got whenever he was hit with a vision. He pressed a finger to his lips and strained his ears.

There. A muttered curse from the back door.

“Liam!” he shouted before tackling Lucy to the floor, chair and all. The door flung open, the shot rang out. Killian heard shouts from the front room. He chanced poking his head up to see Liam sending the shooter crashing into the wall, before turning and running into the front office.

Killian looked back at the shooter where he’d collapsed. Unconscious.

He turned back to Lucy and pressed the knife into her free hand. “Stay down,” he told her. I’ll be right back.”

He threw open the door to the front office to find Liam and Belle standing over the body of a second kidnapper.

“The other one ran out,” Belle said.

“Stay with the girl,” Killian told her before following his brother out the door.

The rush was unnecessary.

Just as the third man was reaching the end of the lot, a figure stepped around the open gate.

Killian heard the man yell, something that could have been get the fuck out of my way, when the lightning hit. The man snapped to a halt, spine stiffening, head thrown back. He shuddered for a moment and then crumpled.

Emma stood over him, looking sheepish as they approached, her hand still outstretched. Killian could swear her fingers smoked.

“Did I read that right?” she asked. “He’s the bad guy, isn’t he?”

She stuck around even after the police arrived, though she kept her distance. Killian supposed this was to avoid running into anyone who might recognize her from her days working in the DA’s office.

He could see her sulking around the same spot she’d jumped out of to taze their kidnapper. He took a minute to extricate himself from Lucy’s very relieved parents - a nice young couple who cooed to her in a mix of English and Spanish in between effusive expressions of thanks directed at Killian, Belle, and Liam - and snuck away to join her.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked as he sidled up next to her, not meeting her gaze.

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Thought I’d live tweet the arrest.”

That made him look at her, frowning.

She gave him a helpless shrug. “Sorry,” she waffled, “I don’t know what to…”

He had a sudden flash of her at the DA’s office on the day they’d met, hair bright where it fell over her red blazer. Their prying into one of her cases had somehow branched off into Liam’s harping on him about trying a new fat-free, frozen yogurt monstrosity they sold at the place around the corner from the bar.

“I just want you to put something new in your mouth,” Liam had been saying, when Killian heard a muttered, “That’s what she said,” from the poker faced defense attorney.

It was the joke that made him smile now. Not her.

He scratched his ear as he pursed his lips, schooling his features back into something more composed. “We didn’t need your interference back there,” he said.

She nodded, face shuttering, “I know.”

“But thank you.”

Her eyes shot back up to pierce him, wide with surprise. Killian cursed inwardly at the sudden fierce urge to touch her in some soft way, her face, her hand. She wasn’t his to comfort. She wasn't one to need comfort.

He stepped closer, telling himself it was to intimidate her, even as her chin tilted up to meet his challenge, keep his gaze. Even as the scent of her washed over him, reminding him of an endless night in her moonlit apartment, the striped shadows of the blinds across her skin, the rasp of her voice, the way she kissed him - as if she were taking him into her soul.

Somehow he managed to ask, “What were you doing at the house today Emma?”

Her jaw tightened, and he could see her steel herself, as open and as clear to him as she was that night in her apartment weeks ago.

“I was worried about you,” she admitted, her voice low and thick.

“I can take care of myself,” he told her.

Her eyes squeezed shut. “I know,” she said, before opening her eyes to look at him again. “But I still need you to know that I’m here. And I can help.” She was full of that familiar furious intensity. He still found it beautiful. “Even you don’t need me, even if you don’t trust me, I’m here. You can use me.”

He dipped his head, helpless against the wave of want that rolled over him - you know better than to want to trust her, you bloody fool.

“Alright,” he said. “You’re here.”

Emma stared at her own hand on the knocker of the manor house. She’d knocked. It was too late to change her mind and make a break for it. She definitely wasn’t going to ding-dong ditch her ex-boyfriend. She was an adult.

But maybe she could just leave him a note?

She patted the pockets of her jeans with more force than necessary, as if she could manifest a pen and a post-it pad through sheer will. It was hotter than the last time she’d darkened Killian’s doorstep, so she’d come with nothing but the black tank on her back.

Not that she ever carried a purse, anyway. What was the point when she could teleport whenever she needed something?

Or used to teleport. She didn’t have the same freedom of movement as a fugitive, when the demons chasing her for a bounty could sniff out her shimmer if she wasn’t careful.

So she was stuck, tethered to the aggressively cheerful welcome mat (was the exclamation point really necessary?), sticky with sweat, torturing herself with the memory of Killian’s face as he’d repeated, You’re here.

Good. Fine. That’s all she wanted. For him to know she was an asset. That’s all. She didn’t expect him to trust her. She sure as hell didn’t expect him to forgive her.

Ugh. This was not encouraging her to stay.

But as she turned to leave, she heard the door creek open behind her. She turned to find a confused little brunette craning her head around the cracked open door.

The whitelighter.

“Hey!” Emma said, wincing at her forced cheeriness. She coughed and tried again. “Hi. I, uh, have a case. Maybe. Or it might be nothing, I don’t know. But, you know, I thought I’d just tell you in case it is...something.” She took a breath. “Is that what you call them? Cases?”

The whitelighter was peering at her, consideringly.

Emma shifted nervously. “Um. Is Killian home?” she asked, like a god forsaken teenager.

“He’s at the bar,” said Belle. After another awkward moment of staring, she stepped back and opened the door wider. “You can wait for him, if you like.” With a polite smile she turned and walked back into the house.

Emma blinked. After a moment or two she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

She found Belle in the kitchen, barefoot, stooped over a merrily boiling pot, humming a random melody as she stirred.

Emma felt her eye twitch at the domesticity of it all.

She’d been surprised when Killian had first introduced Belle, the whitelighter’s heavenly pixie dust splattering onto the sleeve of Emma’s jacket as they shook hands. It hadn’t been hard to piece together that she must be Liam’s ill-advised romantic interest. A guardian angel dating their charge. She couldn’t imagine the whitelighter Elders were happy about it. About as happy as the Source would be if one of his demons fell for a witch, she remembered thinking, bitterly.

Belle glanced up and flashed her that polite smile again. Emma squinted at her, trying to detect any righteous anger, but Belle only waved at one of the stools at the counter. “He shouldn’t be long,” she said. “What’s this about a case?”

Emma climbed onto a stool, feeling too tall, too big, taking up too much space in the bright, cheerful kitchen. Quickly, she told Belle about the women in the cemetery. They hadn’t gone near her father’s tomb, thankfully, but Emma had spotted them when she was coming back from a diner around the block.

The’d all been wearing black, party store, cloaks, but Emma could sense their magic was real.

“It was a summoning spell,” she told Belle. “Definitely a demon summoning spell.”

Belle had stopped stirring and was staring at her with a strange look on her face, her hair curling in the steam.

“Are you living in the cemetery?” she asked.

Emma blinked. “Um, yeah. In my dad’s mausoleum. That’s where I took Killian after…” After I showed my big, bad, demon face to everybody and everything went to shit.

“Oh,” Belle said. There was an awkward pause. “I didn’t know it was your fathers grave.”

Emma nodded.

“And you’re sleeping there?”

She nodded again, and watched as Belle’s face puckered into a look of concern.

Emma shifted on the stool. “I’m not sleeping on the floor or anything. I’ve got a tent.”

“A tent?” she balked.

“It’s a good tent,” Emma said, defensively.

“And you’re comfortable?” She squeaked. “Sleeping? In the cemetery? In a tent?”

“Sure I’m comfortable.” Emma frowned at her. “I’m not afraid if that’s what you mean. I’m a demon, Belle. I’m the scary thing in the cemetery.”

“Right,” she said, not sounding convinced. She began to stir the pot again absent-mindedly. “Except now you say these women have summoned another demon?”

Emma relaxed slightly. “Definitely. I didn’t get a look at who it was before they disappeared, but they reeked of demonic energy. I followed the women to one of those retirement communities nearby.”

“You followed them?” Belle repeated.

Emma bristled. “They’d just summoned a demon.”

To her surprise, Belle actually looked chagrined. “Right,” she said. She glanced down into the pot and turned off the stove. She turned and opened a cabinet to pull out a strainer.

“Right,” Emma echoed, feeling awkward again. Had she been dismissed? She started to stand “So, that’s it. If you could just let Killian know…”

Belle looked around at her. “You’re going?”

Emma paused, half-way out of the stool. “Uh,” she said.

“I told you,” she said as she set the strainer in the sink and took the pot off of the stove, “Killian shouldn’t be long.”

Emma continued to hover. “Ok. But that’s everything I know, you could just tell him yourself.”

Belle stopped, still brandishing the pot of boiling water, and gave her an assessing look. “Are you avoiding him?” she asked.

“No,” Emma said. “I mean, it’s not like we run into each other often. There’s nothing to avoid.”

“Well,” Belle turned again and drained the pot into the strainer. “I think he’d like to see you.”

Emma blinked. “What?”

“He’d like to hear about this demon business from you, I think,” she said.

Emma stared at her. Was she hallucinating? “He would?”

“Sure,” Belle said, absently. She was frowning down at the strained pasta. “I never know what to do for sauce,” she muttered.

“Aren’t you supposed to be giving me the third degree?” Emma said. “Asking about my intentions or something?”

Belle’s gaze shot up to hers. “What are your intentions?” she asked.

Emma tensed. Alright. Well, there was the righteousness. “I don’t have any,” she said. “Or, I guess, if I could do anything to keep him safe -” she stopped. “I just want to help,” she finished, tiredly.

Belle hummed. “Well. I do think you care about him at least.”

Emma felt a jolt of something, a hot, painful sort of longing. To her horror she felt her eyes sting with tears. She looked down at the countertop, studying the grain of the wood.

After a moment she asked, “You’re making pasta?”

Belle groaned. “It’s always pasta. I can take apart this whole stove and put it back together, no problem. But all I know how to make on it is eggs and pasta. But as great as Liam and Killian are at it, I feel guilty making them cook all the time.”

Emma snorted and stood. “Do you have any tomato paste?”

Forty-five minutes later, Killian walked in to find them laughing over a pot of sauce that was a lost cause.

“What the hell,” he said.

“Oh, hello, Killian!” was how Belle greeted him.

“Hello,” he said, watching Emma warily as he approached them.

Ignoring the tension, Belle began adding the sauce to the pasta. “Emma says some women from a retirement community have summoned a demon.”

“She does, does she?” Killian said.

“Can we skip the part where you roast me and just get to the investigating?” Emma said. She raised her eyebrows. “You’ll get rid of me faster that way.”

He nodded, yielding. She might have imagined the old playful light in his eyes. “Retirement community?” he asked.

“It’s called the Atrium,” she said.

“You two can go on ahead,” Belle said. “I’ll call Liam and we can meet you there.”

Both Emma and Killian stared at her. But Belle just started searching the cabinets for a container for her terrible pasta, as if she hadn’t just made a ludicrous suggestion.

Killian cleared his throat and gestured to the door. “After you.”

Emma glanced over her shoulder as they left, and found the whitelighter watching them with an inscrutable expression.

The car ride was fairly quiet after Emma told him what she’d seen in the cemetery.

When they got to the security gate, Killian made up some story about joining his aunt at a party for her friend.

“And I’m sorry you have to look at my awful photo on that, by the way,” Killian said as he handed over his driver’s license. He flashed the guard a lopsided grin.

Right on cue the guard blinked and laughed, flustered. “I wish my driver’s license photo was good.”

“Come on, don’t lie,” Killian said, his eyes raking the guard up and down. “And I can’t imagine someone like you being unphotogenic.”

The guard laughed again, thoroughly charmed. Emma held in her snort.

“Oh,” Killian said. “And I know this is a bit unorthodox, but I cannot remember the name of my aunt’s friend. If I told you what she looked like, would you be able to tell me?”

Thirty seconds later they were being waived through with their quarry’s address and the guard’s phone number.

“Jeez,” Emma said. “Is that some kind of third power you have?”

“Nope,” Killian leered. “Just the magic of good, old-fashioned, human charm.”

“Yeah,” Emma said. “Don’t I know it.”

She watched as Killian’s smile slowly dropped off his face.

Shit.

They bookended their drive in another awkward silence.

She beat him to the door, figuring since he’d gotten them through security, she should be the one to pick the lock.

The house was pretty gorgeously decorated for all it’s boring suburban architecture.

“Is that a bloody harpsichord?” Killian said as they walked into the living room.

Emma walked over to the rickety old instrument. The paint was peeling and its white keys were stained yellow.

She plucked a few notes of a Beatles song.

“You play?” Killian asked.

“My dad had a piano,” she said. “I didn’t practice as much as I should have.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t die in a car accident then?” The way she’d told him.

“No,” she said. She reached for the low keys and stumbled through another riff. After a moment Killian recognized it as Barry White. She looked up at him, smirking as she clicked out a drum beat with her tongue.

Killian felt a tug somewhere in his chest. But he just rolled his eyes and turned back to the house. It was full of antiques, well kept ones. Furniture, art.

He walked to the mantle and looked at the photos. There were several faded ones of a young woman with various important-looking people standing next to even more antiques. From the clothes Killian guessed the photos were taken in the 70s. There were also many of the same woman in full Studio 54 regalia, laughing over glasses of wine and champagne with other similarly glamorous people.

“It doesn’t look like she has any pictures of family,” he said.

Emma joined him in front of the mantle piece and hummed in agreement.

Suddenly, they heard a crash from another room.

They ran towards the noise and found a woman staggering in through the kitchen door, her auburn hair mussed, her eyes wild as she looked up to find a pair of strangers in the house.

It was the woman from the pictures. As in, she looked exactly like the woman from the pictures, transported through time.

She clutched her shoulder with one hand and with the other scrambled to grab a knife from the block on the counter. She pointed it at them.

Killian held up his hands and tried to speak soothingly. “It’s alright, we’re here to help. Gayle Hartman is it?” The woman nodded, eyes bouncing between him and Emma.

“It’s alright,” Killian repeated, keeping his voice soft. “I’m a witch. My -” he glanced at Emma, “friend here said she saw you and a few others summoning a demon in the cemetery not far from here last night. By the looks of it, I’m going to guess it was a demon of...beauty? Youth?”

“Vanity,” the woman said.

Emma hummed. “Yeah, that fits the brand better.”

“Sound familiar?” Killian asked her.

“Sure,” Emma said. “His name’s Cryto. But last I heard some witches had stripped him of his body.”

“That’s why we summoned him in the cemetery,” she said.

Emma and Killian shared a grimace.

“So,” Emma said, “You made him a new franken-vessel and he made you young again?”

Killian took a slow step towards her. “Can I see your shoulder?” he asked.

Gayle seemed to deflate, looking defeated. She dropped the hand with the knife to her side. “It’s no use, you can’t fix it.” She took her hand away to reveal, through a tear in her blouse, grey, dry, cracked skin, as if she were made of clay. “He wanted me to keep finding him people to de-age in exchange for their souls. I couldn’t keep doing it, they don’t understand the trade they’re making.”

“And you do?” Killian prompted.

Gayle’s face grew tense. “I got sick. A tumor. And I have money for treatment, but I couldn’t stand the idea of being reduced to being a pathetic invalid in a hospital. I used to live. I used to be beautiful, I mean look at me! I had so many friends, lovers.”

“Did you?” Emma said. “None of those friends wanted to stick around long enough so that you could lean on them now? They weren’t your friends then.”

Killian shot her a glare. Now wasn’t the time to be lecturing her. Emma managed to look chagrined.

He turned back to Gayle and softened his voice. “What about the friends you summoned this demon with, love?”

She let out an unsteady gasp and began to cry. “He killed Rosemary. Turned her to dust. Said it was insurance. It takes three witches to summon him, three to banish him.”

Killian took her hand. “Then you can help us banish him.”

Gayle shook her head and waived at her shoulder. “I got away before he could finish the job, but I won’t last long with this.”

He smiled. “Oh that’s nothing, I know someone in the business of miracles.” He looked up and shouted, “Belle!”

Suddenly the kitchen was filled with blinding, otherworldy, dancing lights. They converged to form two figures that turned into Belle and Liam when the lights faded. Emma blinked hard to get rid of the spots in her vision. Fucking whitelighters.

Emma and Liam shared a dirty look as a greeting while Belle ran to Gayle. Another bright flash of light and the wound was smooth, human skin again.

Emma took the spot at Gayle’s side as Killian and Liam began to plot. “Hey,” she whispered to her. “I know you were doing what you thought you had to do. But take it from me, even if you’re drop-dead gorgeous, a long life isn’t any less lonely when you have no one to love, or love you.”

Gayle blinked at her through watery eyes, no response.

Emma bit her lip. “Maybe you and your other witch friend could take a painting class? Or maybe, like, a trip to Amsterdam or something? A river cruise?”

Gayle let out a hiccuppy sort of snort. “I haven’t been to Amsterdam in years.”

Emma smiled. “Look, no one says you can’t enjoy yourself just because you’re sick. You definitely seem like you’ve got the money to afford it. And stop trying to get back to the good old days. I doubt they were as good as you remember. What you should be looking for is a friend. Not a bunch of admirers. A friend. Someone to care about.” She stopped, realizing she had spoken this last part into a silent kitchen. She looked up to see Liam, Killian, and Belle staring at her.

“Sorry,” Emma said. “Did we come up with a plan already? I missed it.”

“We’re going to need some more information from Ms. Hartman first,” Liam growled. “If you’re finished, that is.”

Emma rolled her eyes and stood. “Yeah, yeah. All yours.”

She wasn’t sure what had made her lecture the woman anyway. Summoning a vanity demon just seemed like an overly complicated solution for a simple problem to her.

Maybe it was the woman’s loneliness that hit close to home. Sleeping in her father’s tomb was dredging up some Emma’s more depressing memories. She found herself missing her parents more. Missing Killian.

Not helpful, she thought, forcing herself to look at the man in question as he and his brother plotted out how they were going to banish Gayle’s demon.

They dispatched the demon Cryto fairly easily with Gayle’s help. She returned to her former physical state once they’d done the deed, but she didn’t seem too distressed by it. Maybe the whole ordeal had given her a new perspective on her situation.

Maybe Emma’s talk had helped.

He glanced over at her, back in the passenger seat of his car. Liam and Belle had orbed back to the house, and he’d offered to drive her back to the cemetery, since it wasn’t far.

She was lost in thought, her brows furrowed, her shoulders tense.

“Is this going to be a regular occurrence?” he found himself blurting.

She jerked up to look at him, surprised. Then she shrugged. “I saw something that I thought you should know about. Do you not want me to tell you next time?”

He sighed. “I am glad you told us.”

She straightened, annoyed. “Look, I told you I want to help -”

“You’re still staying at the mausoleum,” he interrupted. What are you doing?

She looked at him confused. “Yeah.”

Killian hesitated a moment before making what was probably a vastly stupid decision.

“Maybe you should stay with us,” he said.

She stared at him. “What.”

He scratched his ear, waffling. “Well, it’s like you said. No one who’s hunting you would think to look at our house.”

“No,” she said. “But. I did try to kill you. And your brother. He probably wouldn’t be crazy about me living under the same roof as him and his new wife. And you.”

Killian exhaled. “No. He wouldn’t.”

They sat in silence for a moment as Killian pulled up to stop in front of the cemetery gates. The sun was setting already. On the other side of the wrought iron, the tombstones seemed to lengthen with the shadows, the whole place darkening, blending into one great pit devoid of light. A vacuum.

He heard Emma shift and turned back to watch her suck in a breath. “Ok. I’m gonna chalk that up to momentary insanity.” She laughed, nervous. “You shouldn’t worry about me, Killian.”

“No, I shouldn’t.”

It came out harsher than he meant it to, and she flinched.

He hated it.

He tried to soften his tone. “You shouldn’t worry about me either.”

She let out another awkward chuckle. “Right. Well. Just take care.” She stepped out of the car. “And I’ll see you whenever, I guess.”

She closed the door and Killian watched as she passed through the gates, the shadows swallowing her.

Liam carefully placed his fork down next to his bowl of the lukewarm pasta they were having for dinner. “You what?” he asked.

“I think Emma should stay with us,” Killian repeated.

“I agree,” Belle said.

“You do?” Liam squawked.

“Look,” Killian said. “She has no where else, she has no one else.”

“And why should we bloody care, Killian?”

“Because I don’t want her dead!” he said. “I know she lied to me, I know we’d be stupid to trust her, but I don’t want her to die! And if she stays out there, alone, she could be killed.”

“So could we, if she stayed here,” Liam reminded him.

“With the four of us altogether?” Killian asked. “I think you’re underestimating us. And that’s if anyone thinks to look for a demon in a witch’s house.”

“Well I think you’re overestimating us,” his brother said. “And why are we even debating this? She tried. To kill us.”

“Yes,” Belle chimed in. “But she also technically saved our lives.”

Liam’s head whipped around to so he could stare at his wife, gobsmacked. “You believe her?”

“I spent some time with her today and I can’t forgive her for what she did to Killian,” she paused. “And it’s not my place to anyway. But I don’t think she means us any harm.”

Liam shook his head as if to buck off that statement. Then he rounded back on his brother. “When she showed up here alive after you told us you’d killed her, I didn’t say anything, because I’d always had my doubts. Because I knew you cared about her and killing her was a horrible thing to expect from you. So I was glad! But letting her move in?” He let out a disgusted scoff. “Do you still love her?”

“No,” Killian snarled. "But I can't let her die."

Liam stared at him, searched him.

“Brother,” Killian spoke low, beseeching. “Please.”

Liam glared. “For you,” he said. “I’ll do this for you. But if she does anything the slightest bit suspicious -”

“Liam,” Belle snapped. She and her husband shared a silent look.

Liam sighed. “Well, I’m not happy about it. She can stay, but I’m not happy about it.”

Killian stood outside David Nolan’s tomb.

It was grand. White stone pillars rising up to carry the domed roof. Quite a resting place for just one man.

Killian sensed the memory rising up to claim him again. This time he didn’t fight it.

He remembered the demon appearing in the sun room of the manor house. Paper white skin with black markings, black eyes, teeth a row of sharp little points as she snarled, poised to strike with a wicked looking dagger in her hand.

He’d tried to freeze her but she’d only slowed, pushing through the spell.

His brother and Belle had run into the room at the commotion, and Liam had thrown the demon back just as she reached full speed again.

Then the second one had appeared.

Dark red skin, black and white hair, cackling with a horrible high pitched screech. “Up, Emmaline. Finish your work.”

Liam raised a hand to knock her off of her feet, but the first demon shot back up and lobbed a handful of lightning at him. Liam jerked to the side to avoid the blast.

Killian dove for his own dagger, loaded with curses and enchantments. They’d prepared for her, for the black-eyed, white-skinned terror they’d found in their mother’s Book of Shadows, for the demon they’d been hearing about for weeks from the lesser warlocks and assassins they’d vanquished. Emmaline will get you. No one survives when the Source sends Emmaline.

Killian’s hand had just closed around the hilt when the red one’s claws sunk into his shoulders. He was yanked backwards, an arm snaking around his neck to lock him into place. He choked and his vision swam as the white one started for them, low growl building into a savage roar. He fought to keep conscious as he thrust the dagger out.

There was an awful, dull squelch as the blade pierced flesh.

The pressure around his throat loosened and there was a thud and a poof as the red demon disintegrated. Vanquished.

She’d stabbed her.

The white demon let out a soft, strangled, exhale. Killian felt the breath on his face, close as she was. She smells familiar, was the wild thought that entered his mind. Like burned incense.

In her low, otherworldly voice she rasped, “Killian.”

Her hand went down to the dagger that stuck out of her stomach, and Killian could see her skin darkening, her eyes lightening, hair appearing, long and golden.

“No, no, no, no,” Killian whispered.

He watched Emma - Emma - collapse. And then he was crouched over her. He didn’t remember moving, couldn’t feel the tiled floor of the sun room under his boots, couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t think. Emma, Emma, Emma. She was bleeding, an ugly brown stain blooming over her blouse. She wasn’t moving, her head lolled as he tried to drag her up. He could barely sense the blur of Belle at the corner of his gaze, distantly recognized the muffled buzz in his ear as her voice. Everything felt dulled, like a dream. Was this a dream?

He tore the fabric of her blouse around the dagger to look at the wound. It was grotesque. Torn skin and mangled flesh, singed with magic.

The words choked out of him before the thought was fully formed in his head. “C-can you?” He looked at Belle.

Her eyes were huge and despairing. “Oh, Killian,” she whispered, over a roar that sounded like his brother.

“Please - would you - I have to,” his voice was a hollow rasp that grew stronger with his panic, “I have to see her, I have to - you have to - I have to see her.”

He felt her touch his shoulder, gently. “Killian -”

“I can’t do anything!” The shout ripped out of him. “I can’t do anything until you heal her.”

She jumped at the change in volume, but she must have read the frenzied determination in his eyes, because, hesitantly, she pulled the dagger away and placed her hand over the wound.

As the glow rose from between her fingers, Emma jerked, eyes snapping open as she hissed. The glow faded and Belle snatched her hand away.

There was a beat as they all looked at the ugly, puckered scar where her wound used to be. And then Emma snaked her arms around him and the house, Belle, and his brother faded away. The tile changed into soft, damp, grass. The house lights faded into moonlight cutting through a fog, bouncing off marble headstones.

It made Emma’s hair look a shade lighter.

Killian snapped back and her arms fell away instantly as he scrambled away from her on the grass.

She raised her hands as if to placate him. Her hair rumpled from the scuffle, her eyes red with exhaustion. “I won’t hurt you,” she rasped.

“You’re Emmaline,” he said. “You were sent to kill us.”

“Yes,” she said.

Killian didn’t know what he was expecting. Shame? Villainous smugness? She just looked her usual impenetrable self, if a little - a lot - worse for wear.

But then she said, “Please,” and Killian caught the tremor in her voice.

“Why should I believe you? You lied to me.”

“I did, but I didn’t lie when...I really do...I care about you Killian, I - ” her voice broke, her eyes were bright. She looked afraid. And it scared Killian because he realized he’d never seen her look so vulnerable before.

“Tell me what happened,” Killian said. “Tell me what the hell this all was. Fucking explain yourself.”

She looked around, frantic, scrambling to her feet. “Come on,” she said, gesturing, and Killian noticed the tomb for the first time, ghostly white in the fog. “I’ll tell you, we just can’t be in the open, come on.”

He followed her - too distracted by shock, and blooming despair to question whether he was being led into a trap - and listened as she relayed the whole sorry tale. How she’d been an assassin for years, rising through the ranks to become the Source’s favorite. How her mission had been different this time, how she was supposed to get close to them, find out how to make them weak, so that she could destroy them when others couldn’t.

Soon they heard faint shouts from outside in the cemetery. Liam. He’d found them.

Emma looked at him. “That’s it, pretty much. I was taking too long and they sent Cruella to keep me on track.”

“Is this on track?” Killian asked.

“No,” she said. “Which means the Source will come at me full force, soon enough.”

“What will you do?” Fuck, but the question was full of fear. He was reeling, but he couldn’t bear the thought of her in danger.

“I’ll run,” she said, simply. Her voice was hollow, her eyes bleak as she looked up at him. “I guess it would be crazy to ask you to come with me, huh?”

He stared at her, the anger and fear and hurt rolling inside of him. “Yes. It would be crazy.”

She nodded, and started to step away. He reached out to stop her with his prosthetic.

“Wait.” He tugged on her blouse, on the torn fabric stained with her blood. “Help me,” he muttered, and she reached to help him rip away the bloody scrap.

He tossed the scrap a few yards away from them and pulled out the vial of the vanquishing potion that he and Liam had taken to carrying around on them at all times. He pulled Emma further away from the scrap of her blouse before tossing the vial. The glass broke, and burst of flame rose up, the magic burning away her blood.

“I’ll tell Liam you’re dead,” he said. “Maybe it’ll get back to the Source, somehow.”

“It won’t work forever,” she said.

He looked down into her pale, grim face. “But it’ll give you a head start.”

She nodded. “You don’t have to help me.”

He kissed her. A last kiss. Full of everything he didn’t have time to express, all the feeling that poured out of him whenever she was near.

He broke it off. “I won’t after this,” he swore, and pushed her away.

Her eyes were shuttered and her cheeks were wet with tears as she looked at him.

“Bye, Killian,” she said, and faded away.

He found her wrestling with a mess of fabric that he guessed was supposed to be a tent.

At the sound of his entrance, she whipped around, hand crackling with electricity, poised to strike.

“It’s me,” he said, hands raised.

“Oh,” she said. “Uh. Sorry,” she gestured to the tent. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Killian looked at the tent. Licked his lips. “Pack your things,” he said.

She blinked. “What?”

He shifted his weight, strangely nervous. “Pack your things,” he repeated, “so I can take you to the house.”

She looked at him, bewildered. Then she raised a brow. “Do I get a say in this?”

He relaxed. “Yes, love, of course you do.” He stopped. The endearment had slipped through. A habit.

Her strickened expression told him she’d noticed.

He cleared his throat, eager to get this part over with. “Well, Swan, what do you say?”

She stared at him for a moment, inscrutable again.

“I say, thank you.”

[hymn2000]

Hope I’ve Got Something To Lose - MCU AU fanfic - C10

Story overview: Peter has an accident, and Tony makes a drastic decision. In the midst of everything, a face from the past reappears - but Peter isn’t too sure about reconnecting after everything that’s happened.

Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Part of my irondad and spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: injury, hospital stuff, hurt/comfort, mental health stuff, family stuff, corporal punishment

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 10 - Can’t Carry On Anymore

-

Peter thought he’d feel fine in the morning, but he didn’t. The first thing that annoyed him was that his parents had obviously been in, as the photo was back on the bedside table, and he was tucked up under the quilt. He didn’t know why it annoyed him so much, but it did. 

He hauled himself out of bed, had a quick wash and got dressed, and wandered off to the kitchen. He tugged at Tony’s sleeve.

“Hey kiddo”

“I need to go out”

“You’re grounded” Tony said. “You know that”

Peter nodded. “I need to go out”

Tony sighed. “Where?”

“It’s none of your business! Can’t you just let me out for an hour or two?”

“Where are you wanting to go?”

“That’s none of your business! I’ve already said that!”

“Why are you crying, Peter?”

Peter knuckled his eyes. “I hate you”

Tony just nodded and went back to what he was doing. Peter was about to pounce when he heard Loki’s familiar footsteps. 

“Have one of you been using my debit card? My statement doesn’t make any sense”

“How much is it out by?”

“About $83” Loki said, frowning at his tablet. “I’ve been through all my receipts and emails and it’s definitely nothing I can account for”

Tony looked at him, and then they both looked at Peter. 

“What?”

“You know what” Tony said. “Have you been using dad’s card?”

“I’ve got my own bank account”

“That wasn’t my question. What have you been buying?”

“I’ll tell you if you let me go out”

Tony sighed in an exasperated fashion, and shook his head at Loki. 

“I know, unbelievable” Loki said, raising an eyebrow. “Go to your room, Peter. We’ll talk about this later”

“No, I need to go out”

“So you keep saying” Tony said. “But you won’t tell me where you need to go”

“I’m going to the shop later if you need me to pick anything up” Loki said.

“I don’t need a shop! I need to go out!”

“You’re getting hysterical” Tony said. “Calm down, please”

Peter didn’t. Once he’d started crying, he couldn’t stop. Loki saw Tony twitching in annoyance, and took one for the team. He lifted Peter up into his arms.

“Get us a cup of tea, will you, darling?” Loki said to Tony.

He grabbed a sports drink and a packet of biscuits, and took Peter out of the room.

-

Loki put the drink and biscuits on the lamp table, and set Peter down on the sofa.

“You need to stop”

“I can’t..!” Peter howled. “I can’t!!”

“Yes you can. What on Earth has gotten into you? It’s a bit early in the day for a breakdown, isn’t it?”

“You’re not funny! I want to go out!!”

“Well that’s just tough, and you know it” Loki said, not unkindly. “Come on now, you’re going to give yourself one hell of a headache”

Peter just kept crying. Loki grabbed a dark green tartan-patterned blanket and wrapped it round the boys shoulders.

“There we are, my Small Soft Hamish” 

Peter just cried harder at this familiar little joke. He was hurting too much to allow himself to be consoled. Loki put his arms round the boy and hugged him close.

“Sshh. It’s ok, I’ve got you. You’re ok, even if you think otherwise. You’re here, and you’re safe”

Peter clung to him despite himself. Maybe he just knew he was being silly. 

-

Loki let go of him when Tony came into the room with a couple of mugs of tea. He took Peter’s mug from him and passed it to the boy.

“Here. Tea. It’ll make you feel better” he said. “You’ve got a sports drink there, don’t forget, and some biscuits, for your sugars” 

Peter took the tea reluctantly. Loki stood up and started fiddling with the DVD player. Tony set Loki’s mug down and sat down beside Peter.

“You’re no better than you were ten minutes ago. What’s up?” 

“What do you think?! You’re always taking everything away from me! I just wanna go out for an hour and you won’t even let me do that. You’re ruining my life!”

“Oh for gods sake Peter, you really need to-”

“Oi, stop arguing” Loki said, standing up and pushing in between the two of them. “Tony, shut up. Peter, drink your tea”

Tony looked at the telly, and raised an eyebrow. “Bagpuss? Really?”

“Oh what, have you got a better idea?” Loki snapped. “I don’t see you helping”

“He won’t let me help! He’s barely letting you help!”

“Do you wanna know what isn’t helping? Starting an argument when he’s already so distressed” 

Tony stood up and stalked out. Loki shook his head and gave Peter a squeeze.

“Ignore him. Keep drinking your tea. Watch your video” 

Peter drank his tea. He was still crying, but not so much. Once he’d finished his tea, he flopped against the arm of the sofa, keeping his eyes on the telly. 

“I’m cold...”

Loki found him a teddy to hold, and wrapped him up in the big quilted blanket. He knelt down in front of the sofa.

“You’re allowed to talk to me, you know” he said, wiping the tears from the boys face.

“You wouldn’t understand”

“Try me”

Peter just stayed quiet. He was just starting to calm down. He didn’t need to start all over again. Loki sighed and kissed him on the nose. He stood up and retrieved his tea, and then sat down beside Peter. 

“I’ll be here if you change your mind”

-

Peter sat up.

“Do you think I might be bipolar?”

Loki glanced at him.

“It’s more like BPD, if anything at all”

“Isn’t that what you’ve got?”

“Peter, you’re scaremongering yourself. You’re just upset. It doesn’t really mean anything more than that”

“So it might just be the PTSD?”

“Maybe? Sweetheart, please, we don’t really need to be having this conversation. Being upset doesn’t mean you’re bipolar. I think you just need to rest and look after yourself. You’ll feel better if you make the effort”

“How do you know?”

“Experience”

-

Peter fell asleep for a few hours. He ended up giving in and letting Loki take care of him. He was fed and watered and he had a bath and got changed, and while he still felt empty inside, he felt much better. They went through to the kitchen and found Tony.

“I need to go out”

Tony sighed heavily. “Not this again”

“I need to go and see May”

Tony’s expression changed. He looked at Loki, and then back at Peter.

“Oh. Why didn’t you say?”

“You were so cross with me”

Tony sighed again. “Go and get your shoes on. We’ll all go”

“Can we stop at the florists first?”

“Of course”

-

Peter couldn’t shake the wobbly horrible feeling. He spent ages trying to choose in the florist, and Tony got impatient with him. Loki and the florist were very good about it though. Once they were back in the car on the way to the cemetery, Peter started to feel bad all over again.

-

Peter knelt in front of the grave. 

“She’ll be a skeleton by now, won’t she?”

No one answered him. He read the gold lettering on the headstone, and set the bouquet of flowers down on the grave. He looked at the flowers, and at all the old trinkets and cards and candles. He stared at everything, and tried hard to remember her. But nothing was coming to mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, and he could just about hear her voice - but that was it. 

He didn’t get it. He had a lifetime of memories stored away somewhere, but where? He needed to think of something. Just one memory, one good memory, that was all he wanted. He tried to think of the things he knew they’d done together. She’d helped him before that disastrous school dance. She’d taken him on day trips. She’d been a big part of the Stark household on many occasions. He knew all of this, but for some reason, he couldn’t summon the memories. Something had to be wrong with him. He thought about Loki, just to test that theory - and his mind was filled with little clips of Loki reading to him, grabbing his collar to stop him from walking over the end of the pier, holding his hands and guiding him with a knife, teaching him how to make rhubarb crumble... He didn’t get it. He tried to think of May again, but he couldn’t conjure up the same kind of little video. And he hated it. 

“Peter?” Tony said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ok?”

Peter stood up quickly, turning to them. He looked at them, mouth open, shaking his head.

“No. No, I’m not ok, and it’s all because of you!” 

“What? Peter-”

“No! Don’t touch me! This isn’t fair! This isn’t fair.. She should never have died. None of this should ever have happened! I can’t stand this!”

“Peter, sweetheart, I know” Tony said. “I know it’s not fair. But it was an accident, you know that. There was nothing anyone could have done”

“Then why did I survive?! Why aren’t I buried there instead?! What if I’d stayed in the kitchen? I could’ve saved her - or died with her. It’s not right. Do you even know how much I miss her? She should’ve come home with us that night. She should’ve been next to me in the car, don’t you see?! We could’ve all four of us been together, that’s how it should be!”

“I know, I know. But you can’t blame yourself. You can’t blame yourself and start throwing what ifs and shoulds around. What’s done is done. We can’t change the past”

Peter knuckled his eyes. He felt sick. 

“You both loved her. I know I didn’t know about the sex thing until after she died, but I always knew you two loved her. I saw you messing about and hugging and kissing her face and stuff, and I liked it. I was happy! I want things to go back to how they were!” he sobbed. “I’m gonna end up forgetting her and it’s not fair, she deserved so much more than this!”

Tony tried to hug him, but he wouldn’t let him.

“I can’t do this any more! I want to be with her. I wish I was dead!”

“Don’t say that!” Tony grabbed him by the shoulders. “Don’t you ever say that!”

“Well why not?! It’s true!”

“No, it isn’t!”

“Yes, it is! How would you know?!”

“Because I’ve been there! You don’t really mean it”

Peter pushed his hands away. “I liked it back when there was four of us, and you were all like my parents. I liked it when we were round at yours, and I liked it when you came round to the flat and made it seem so much bigger, and we had so much fun and we were all happy! I didn’t even mind it when I got sent to bed before you went home, cos I just laid in bed and listened to the sound of you all talking and laughing together before I fell asleep, and it felt so warm and happy and good. Why did it have to stop?! I want to go back! I want to be back in the every Wednesday and every second weekend arrangement. I want May back! I want my old life back! I’m so fed up of all this! I don’t wanna be a stupid little private school kid who can’t even speak at school! I want to be me again!”

“You are you! You’re just a different you” Tony said. “People reinvent themselves constantly. Look, I know it’s horrible. We still miss her too. We were happy when there were four of us too. But there isn’t now. It’s just me, and you, and Loki. We’re all you’ve got, kiddo. You’re going to have to accept that”

“Well I wish you weren’t! You’re ruining my life! May would never’ve taken everything away from me like you have! Sure, she freaked out a bit when she found out I was Spiderman, but she never tried to take the suit away, or lock me in the house, or have a go at me for having fun with my friends. She never tried to be something she wasn’t either. I hate you! You’re a sorry excuse for a father!”

Tony just sighed. “I get it, you’re upset, so you’re trying to upset me to make yourself feel better. But I’m sorry to say, kiddo, it doesn’t work like that. You can scream and shout all you want; it won’t change a thing. We’re looking after you. We’re your parents now, and we’re trying our best”

“Well your best isn’t good enough!”

“We’re not perfect” Loki said. “Neither was May. But we love you, and we want what’s best for you. And I know it’s really hard to see things from our point of view when you’re hurting this much”

Peter felt weak. He fell to his knees and covered his face with his hands. He felt sick and horrible. He looked at the grave out of the corner of his eye, and he just felt even worse. 

“Peter” Tony said gently. “It’s starting to rain. We should go”

“I don’t want to! I want to stay here” Peter cried. “You can go if you want. I’ll come back later”

“I don’t think it’s safe to leave you alone when you’re like this, especially not outside. Sweetheart, you need to come home with us now”

Peter didn’t move. He stayed as he was, feeling the rain beating down against his back. It had got very heavy very quickly. He became aware of someone kneeling down by him, and he glanced up.

“I know” Loki said. “I really do. But believe me, staying here anguishing and getting soaked won’t make you feel any better”

“D-do you remember when we all went to the seaside? And you and May were messing about on the pier singing The Blackpool Belle?”

“You nearly fell off the pier” Loki remembered. “We had to grab you, and you dropped your ice cream, so Tony bought you one with two flakes to make up for it”

Peter started crying all over again, and he held his arms out. Loki hugged him, and slowly stood up, lifting him into his arms as he did so.

"You sang as well, even though you didn’t know the words very well at all” Loki said as they started back towards the car. “You definitely knew all the words by the end of the day though”

“I don’t think I can do this any more...”

“Yes you can. You can do this” Loki said. “You’re the strongest out of all of us”

-

Peter kept hold of Loki’s arms as he was set down on the back seat.

“Can you stay with me?”

“If you’d like. Here, move into the middle”

Peter did as he was asked. Loki climbed into the car beside him, strapping both of them in. He put an arm round the boys shoulders, and the boy cuddled against him, closing his eyes.

Halfway home, Peter broke the silence.

“I’ve been thinking” he said thickly. “Were you and May in love? I think you might’ve been”

Loki was quiet for a moment, and then he smiled and gave the boy a squeeze.

“I think we might’ve been too”

-

Peter seemed a little better when they got home. Tony sat him down at the breakfast bar with a colouring book and set of coloured pencils, and Loki made him a big mug of tea. Tony leant against the kitchen unit, scrolling through his tablet. Loki watched them both for a while, and then took a risk and put the music player on. Peter seemed to freeze a little for a second or two, but he relaxed quickly, and Loki rather fancied he could see the memory playing in the boys head. It wasn’t long before Peter started, quite unintentionally, singing quietly under his breath.

“I remember - very well. All the happy gang aboard the Blackpool Belle. I remember them pals of mine, when I ride the Blackpool line. And the songs we sang together on the Blackpool Belle”

-

Tony sat down beside Loki later that day after Peter had gone to bed.

“Hello darling” Loki said, not looking up. 

Tony read his book over his shoulder for a moment or two. 

“Hey, Lolly? I think we need to talk”

Loki paused. He closed his book and set it down on the arm of the sofa. 

“What, about Peter?”

“Yeah. I don’t think he’s coping”

“No” Loki agreed. “We both know he’s been very volatile ever since we lost May. He just feels some things so intensely. And we both know what that’s like”

“I just feel so helpless around him. He doesn’t like me right now”

“Yes, and we know why, don’t we?”

“I’m not giving him back the suit”

“Tony” Loki took hold of his hand. “He’s a mixed up little creature, and I think the reason he’s having these tantrums is because he hasn’t got any other outlet. Tony... Tony, remember when we first became friends? What was my situation?”

“I don’t know what you mean” Tony lied.

“Don’t lie to me. I know that you know. I was stuck in that flat day after day after day. I could only get out rarely, and only with my brother. I played up and did stupid things. Sound familiar?”

“Hey, you were just as cross as I was at the party” Tony said, pulling his hand back.

“Yes, but it was embarrassing, and it reflected badly on us - you, especially. That doesn’t mean I agree with the grounding. He didn’t get hurt on purpose”

“Are you forgetting the fact that he nearly died?”

“No, but you know as well as I do that that was a reaction to medication, and not as a result of his injuries” Loki stopped, and sighed heavily. “I know his injuries were bad. He’s still looking pretty torn up under his top. But it was an accident, we know that”

“We don’t need to let him fight crime. We’re supposed to keep him safe. He’ll be fine once he’s accepted it. Plus, you’ve always been really good at calming him down”

Loki sighed again. “Peter’s more similar to me than either of us care to think. You can calm both of us down with tea and blankets and hugs, and listening to The Houghton Weavers, or watching The Clangers, or whatever. But that doesn’t mean it’ll always work. Think about when I was in hospital. Things weren’t quite so effective back then, were they?”

“Don’t” Tony looked away. “I hate thinking about that time”

“That was an accident too” Loki pointed out. “We’ve had quite a few of those”

Tony glanced back at Loki, and pulled him close. “I love you too much to let you get hurt again. I just want to keep my family safe”

“So do I, but we’re going about it the wrong way”

“...He’s not even healed yet. They said the ribs take six weeks, and it’s only been about three. We shouldn’t even be talking about this until he’s ready. I’m surprised he even managed his little swimming play-about at the party”

“I don’t think he’s in so much pain anymore. They also said the ribs usually stop hurting after two weeks”

“You saw the state of the suit”

Loki pulled back. “I’m not in a position to dictate the suit. I just think we should lift the grounding. Even just letting him go down to the corner shop to grab a pint of milk will do him good. I think he needs to know that we trust him”

“I don’t want him to get hurt”

“You can’t wrap people in cotton wool and expect them not to get smothered”

Tony sighed and rested his forehead against Loki’s chest. “What do you think May would do if she were here?”

“Tell you not to be a prick and then probably knock our heads together”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh. “Ok, I can see that... Look, I don’t really believe in heaven, but if it was a thing, and she was watching, what would she think?”

“... Do you remember when we took Peter out for a walk that evening, and that guy on a BMX crashed into him and he sprained his wrist and hit his head on the curb? We both felt dreadful, didn’t we? Even though it was out of our control”

Tony nodded slowly. “It just came out of nowhere...”

“When we told May... She hugged us and she didn’t care that we hadn’t been able to stop it: she just thanked us for taking care of him and getting him the proper help. She knew we did our best”

Tony looked up. “She’d know, wouldn’t she? If she could see us, she’d know we were doing our best... wouldn’t she?”

Loki nodded, and smiled sadly. “She knew we always wanted the best for him”

“I miss her...” Tony swallowed hard, closing his eyes. “I just felt so, sick. I really thought it’d be someone else, but it was her, and I just... I couldn’t process it. But I just remember walking back down that corridor feeling like nothing was real, and wondering how the hell I could look after him on my own. The look on his face when we had to tell him...”

“But you didn’t have to do it alone”

“No... Not all of it... Oh Loki, how could you walk out on him like that?”

“We’ve been through this before” Loki said. “I’d hurt him enough as it was, and myself. I had to go. I went with good intentions”

“...I still don’t know what I’m doing. I never expected to be a dad. And all those parenting books are about toddlers, not teenagers. I don’t know. It’s just so hard sometimes” 

Loki put his arms round him. “You can’t just focus on the bad stuff. You know it’s not always hard. In fact, in the grand scheme of things, he’s a fairly easy kiddie to deal with”

“When did you start being so positive?” Tony grumbled. “This is rubbish”

“Well yes, but what else did you expect? Tony, you know how health works. You know about downfalls and relapses and little sicknesses that pop up out of nowhere. You know how fast things u-turn in this house”

Tony pulled back. “I just want him to be happy”

“He is, mostly. We both know you can hurt and be happy at the same time” 

Tony put his arms round Loki’s neck, kissed the apple of his cheek, and hugged him tight.

“I’m so glad I’m not doing this without you”

“You’d manage without me. Even when you’re arguing, you’re still his favourite” 

“I don’t know about that” Tony kissed Loki’s neck gently. “Just promise me something”

“What?”

“Don’t go off on another sabbatical any time soon”

*

[mystrangerfics]

Loss

Original Image Post

A/N: I was unsure if this was supposed to be a relationship pairing but I went with friendship due to lack of response. 

Pairing: Max Mayfield x Reader(Friendship)

Description: Anonymous asked: Can you do a max x reader where the reader is bobs daughter and max is comforting her after he dies.

Work Count: 1799

Complete Story Warnings: Violence & Gore! Loss & Grieving. Death of Character.

The whole day had happened all at once but somehow seemed to span a week. You had woken up like any other day and when your father said he was bringing games to Will you had hopped in the car, no questions asked. You liked your dad's new girlfriend Joyce and her son Will had become a good friend. He let you hang with him and the party since you didn't have many friends. Mike didn't want you in the party but it was okay because he didn't want to include Max either and she had become your best friend.

Somehow going to bring Will a few brain teasers had ended with everyone at a lab. It was hard for you to keep up as Joyce told you and your dad everything that had happened with Will. Mike gave you a few extra details as you had all sat beside Will’s bed. You almost didn't believe any of it until the alarms started blaring.

You remember seeing one of the creatures and you had been frozen in your spot. Your mouth just hanging open in shock and eyes wide. You couldn't believe it and your father had had to grab you and pull you away, down the hall.

You all sat in the room as the lights went off and the doors locked, trapping you inside. The adults talked and tried to figure everything out as you sat almost dazed beside Will's unconscious body.

When you had realized the plan was for your father to go to the basement you had jumped up. “Dad, no!”

Your dad had turned and looked to your watering before he gave you that sweet, reassuring smile he always did. He had gently taken your arms on his hands and leaned down to you. “Everything is going to be okay. Remember, Bob Newby,” he had said with a smirk and leaned his head towards you to finish his sentence.

“Superhero,” you had whispered out with a sad smile. He placed a kiss on your head and told you he loved you before you had watched him go out the door with Hopper, leaving your stomach in knots.

You had watched the screens that showed your father until the power came up and the doors unlocked. You watched him avoid a demo-dog with the sprinkler system and then had to go with everyone when they left.

You had stood with Joyce at the door, despite Hopper’s arguing. With each passing moment you grew more nervous and your eyes flared up before pouring over. “Come on, dad.”

Finally the doors slammed open and you and Joyce sighed in relief when you saw him. He turned and gave you both a smile before he suddenly was thrown back as a demo-dog jumped onto him. He tried to hold it off but it sunk its nails into his gut and then latched its mouth onto his shoulder.

“No!” Was the sound that left your mouth but the voice had sounded distant and unfamiliar. The pain and grief had ripped from your throat and tore threw the air like glass shards, hurting anyone who heard it.

Hopper had had to force you and Joyce out, nearly carrying you as you tried to help your father. You'd been forced into a vehicle and brought to Joyce's house.

__ __

“She’s not talking,” Hopper quietly told Max. “I can't get her out of Jonathan's room.” He looked down the hall to the door you were behind. You had gone into the room to change out of your bloody clothes and hadn’t come back.

Max sadly looked down the hall before she sighed and kind of swayed a little. “Was it bad?” She looked up to Hopper.

“She saw everything and it was really... bad,” was all Hopper offered.  He looked down a little and kept his hand on his hips. “The boys say you're closest to her.”

Max quietly nodded before walking up the hallway towards the door. She knocked quietly and waited for a response that didn't come. “(Y/N)?” She waited but didn't hear anything. “I'm coming in, okay?” The room remained silent.

She slowly turned the knob before walking in. Her gaze glanced around Jonathan's room for a moment before her eyes rested on you. You were curled up in the corner, leaning against the wall. Your face looked exhausted and had tear stains running down both cheeks.

Max paused for a moment before she slowly walked over and sat beside you. She waited before wrapping an arm around your neck and pulling your head to rest on her shoulder. You sobbed a little before you buried your face into her hoodie.

She quietly shushed you and pet at your hair as she leaned her head against yours. She felt her own eyes water as she felt your pain. She had gone to your house a few times and your father was always sweet and inviting. She couldn't believe he was gone and that you had seen it happen. You had now lost both of your parents and she couldn't imagine how that felt.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I'm sorry this happened and that doesn't fix it but I want you to know I mean it.”

You cried a little harder and kept your face buried in her shoulder. You knew she meant it but it didn't stop the pain you felt inside you. Everytime you blinked you saw your father lying there being eaten. His pained screams filled your ears.

“Your dad was amazing,” she whispered into your hair as her eyes ran over and tears raced down her cheeks.

“He really was,” you sobbed as you hugged yourself. Many people found your father to be nerdy and too eccentric but you had loved him.

Max wrapped both her arms around you and you hugged her back. She wanted to tell you it would be okay but now was not the time. You were too far down in your grief, everything was still too fresh and painful.

Max sat with you for a while and just let you cry until you seemed to have nothing left. You just sat there with a blank, exhausted expression.

“My dad was right, you know?” Your voice cracked out, sounding overused and broken from crying. Max looked to you, a bit surprised to hear you speak after being silent for so long. “He was a superhero.”

Max gave you a sad, little smile and nodded. “He saved everyone,” she said quietly and gently took your hand in hers, holding it. “We need each other to figure this all out.”

You went quiet for a little bit longer before you slowly stood and helped Max up with you. You hugged her tightly and hid your face into her shoulder for one more moment. “Thank you,” you whispered. Max got you and that was something you appreciated more than anything. She didn't try to tell you it would be okay or that more important things were happening. She had simply sat quietly with you while you were in pain and just needed someone to be with you. “You're my best friend,” you quietly said.

Max gripped you tightly for a moment and smiled, her eyes watering a little. “You're my best friend too,” she said before giving a little laugh through her tears. You both had known it but neither had said it and Max had feared she felt that way about you but you didn't about her. She hadn't had a best friend in a long time and it felt good to know she had you now.

“Let's go find a way to kill this thing,” you said after a moment and pulled back from Max but took her hand.

“For your dad,” Max said and gripped your hand with a small smile that you returned.

__ __

Max left the group of boys and slowly walked over to where you stood by your father's grave. Everything was over, the gate was closed and most everything had gone back to normal, except your pain. You had pushed through the chaos but Max was worried now that things had slowed. You had sat next to her in the church while people gave speeches about your dad and held her hand, your face void of emotion. She knew you were going through a lot. Joyce had moved you in with her and was now your legal guardian. Max was happy you had someone but knew leaving your home was hard for you. She knew you would have to pack up your father's things and didn't know if you could bare it.

“Hey,” she whispered as she stood beside you, looking down at the coffin in the hole. She got a small chill and shivered a little. “Are you okay?” She asked, looking to your vacant face.

You looked to her before your face crumbled and your sobs came in huffs, it was finally all coming forward. The dam you had put up broke and your nearly fell to your knees before Max caught you.

She quietly shushed you and rubbed your back before motioning for Hopper to wait. He had seen you break down and tried to come over and help Max with you.

“I don't want to leave him,” you sobbed and pulled back far enough to look into her eyes. “Max, I can't. He can't be gone! Why is he gone?!”

Max's eyes watered as you looked into her eyes with your pained ones. She really didn't know what to say, so she slowly sat down with you next to the grave and let you lean on her. Max wasn't sure how long you cried for but it was beginning to get dark as the sun sank down over the treeline. She heard your quiet sniffles and hiccups dying down and saw how exhausted you looked.

“He never meant to leave you,” Max finally said after hours of not speaking. “But he did it to save you and that's why he's gone. He loved you so much and there's no way he was going to let anything happen to you. Even if we could go back and try to change it, he wouldn't let us. Because he saved you and Will and Joyce. He saved everyone.”

You sniffled and glanced to his headstone that you had picked out with Joyce. “It still hurts.”

“I know and it probably will for a very long time but it'll get easier,” she offered before she followed your gaze. You both sat in silence for a while longer as you rested your head on her shoulder.

“I like it,” Max said after a moment and you both smiled at the stone a little.

‘Bob Newby’

‘Superhero’

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

Our last winter, 18/31

► Our last winter - Human!Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler. ► Written for @doctorroseprompts 31 days of ficmas. Day 18: Presents. ► AU Verse, Teen. ► 1,757 words. ► A/N: This is a prequelle to Ghost of you.

“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is time for home.” - Edith Sitwell.

Maxence was sat in front of his work computer, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. He seemed to be focused on the information displayed on his screen but someone who knew him well would notice immediately that his mind was far away from what he was supposed to be doing. The joy and lust of the Christmas party from last Friday were all gone now. He was back to work. The samples had been sent in the weekend and the first results had arrived in the morning. Quite early to really know if the medicine was working in his opinion but he hadn’t made any comment. He wasn’t in the mood to protest or complain. He had just gotten to work and tried to focus on the documents he had been sent but he just couldn’t do anything. His mind was always taking him back to what had happened four months ago to the day.

For him, the seventeenth of every month was hell. They said that the pain would disappear with time but it wasn’t getting any better in his opinion. Every day was a new day of unbearable grief that was only increasing and crushing him. He refused to speak with a specialist. He just needed to mourn the death of his mother. These things needed time and time wasn’t given to him. As one of the most brilliant scientists, he was always asked to work on something. He had had a couple days for the funerals but nothing more. He had thought that working would help his mind to forget what had happened, would help him with the pain but even doing what he loved wasn’t keeping him away from the terrible loss he was going through. His knowledge, his skills hadn’t been able to save Joanne from the cancer that had killed her.

His eyes fell upon the frames on his desk. There was a picture of him and Rose, pictures of him with his friends and colleagues, a picture of him with his mother. He picked that last frame up and observed it. It had been taken just before she was told for the cancer, just before the frightening fight started. They were so happy then. Probably the last time. The small laughs and happy moments they had had next were all spoiled by the memories of the cancer. No matter how hard he tried to think about something else, this disease was always coming back to his mind. Maybe should he change his researches on Alzheimer to focus on this muck. It wouldn’t save his mother now but it could save millions of lives. After lethal diseases like plague and cholera, the new exterminator of the human race was born. Cancer was the disease of the century and it was leaving bodies in its wake.

Maxence sighed and put the frame back down on his desk. He rubbed his face and clenched his teeth when he felt the tears coming to his eyes. He wasn’t gonna cry again. He had to control himself. He got back to work, read the report under his eyes but he still couldn’t understand it. None of the words he was reading was making any sense to him at the moment. Even reading the report once again didn’t change this global inability to understand what was in front of him. He had to clear his mind before trying to work.

  “Oh, mom, you’d be so disappointed by me,” he mumbled. “I miss you so much.”

  Someone knocked on the door and Maxence turned around to see who it was. Rose. Obviously. She knew what day it was. They had had fun this weekend but none of them had forgotten that particularly painful day. He got up and opened the door. Rose sneaked in the room and closed the door behind her. She cupped his cheek gently.

  “You’re not doing well, are you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m the king of okay. I was working on this new report.”

  He pointed to the computer screen that was still displaying the report he had been trying to read for hours. Rose didn’t even look at it. She was perfectly aware that he wasn’t working, that he couldn’t think about anything else but his mother.

  “I can’t focus on my own work. I doubt you can do it.”

“I have less difficulties to hide my feelings.”

“Not with me.”

“Not with you,” he sighed.

  He sat back down in his chair and Rose took place on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head in the crook of his neck. She dropped a kiss on his skin. It was fresh. He needed to cover himself more. Even if he had a good immune system, this place was full of germs and you could catch anything.

  “I was thinking that we could go to the cemetery during lunchtime. There are a couple of flower shops open all the time.”

“I don’t know if…”

“I’ll be with you.”

“As always.”

  Rose cuddled into him for a couple more minutes. She would have stayed in his arms to comfort him longer if work wasn’t waiting for them. She had just passed by to see how he was doing on this day. She couldn’t do much more unfortunately. She kissed his head softly and left his office reluctantly.

She came back at lunchtime only to find him staring off at his screen. He hadn’t done anything after she was gone. She forced him to cover himself up with a hoodie and a warm coat. She wrapped his neck into a scarf and took his hand in hers. She was the one driving to the cemetery, the one choosing the plants and flowers for the grave. She hated seeing her Maxence like this, totally crushed by his pain and unable to do anything. She hated even more his silence, his livid face and the contained sadness haunting his eyes as they stood before the tomb. She squeezed his hand and began placing the new flowers on the grave. Maxence was helping her but she could see that he wasn’t really there.

  “I like to imagine her sitting in a garden full of colourful flowers. I remember how much she loved gardening in her backyard.”

“She hated London and its pollution. She preferred our house in Manchester.”

  Maxence stood up and stared at the name on the headstone. ‘Joanne Spitz. Loved mother. 1959 – 2012.’ She was so young when she was taken away from him and it angered him. At least, she had been happy during the rest of her life. After a rough beginning in the adult life, she had managed to fall back on her feet and to give herself and her only son a better life.

  “I’ve never told you the real reason why we left my hometown.”

  Rose got back up and cleaned her hands on her jeans. She walked back to him and took his hand again. He was about to tell her something about him, something tragic about his past and he needed her to stand by his side and hold his hand through his story.

  “It has been a very difficult decision for her. She had always lived in Manchester but she had no one left there. Jeremy had taken everything from her. Her friends, her family… She didn’t have any link or contact with them. She was alone with me. And him. He was beating her and he wasn’t afraid of beating me too as you know.”

  She squeezed his hand again to let him know that she was following him so far. She already knew this part of the story but she was giving him the time to get to the point. He swallowed and started speaking again.

  “That night…” He stopped, breathed deeply, tried to control his emotions. “I was home alone with mom and I was sick. I went to bed without eating and came back down later because I was thirsty. It was night and he came home drunk. He glared at me and I was so scared that I froze and peed on myself. It infuriated him of course and me puking on his feet didn’t help. He beat me so hard that night that when mom ran downstairs to stop him from killing me, I was already lying on the floor in a very bad shape. He beat her instead…”

  His voice was trembling and she pulled him closer to her to comfort him. He had vivid memories of this night despite his very young age. He wasn’t with her anymore, he was back in this house and he was watching the scene with an adult look.

  “I intervened and got punished for that. When mum finally managed to kick him out of the house and was sure he wouldn’t come back, she ran to me. She begged me to stay with her but I was so weak and so in pain that I couldn’t do as she said… I’ve spent two weeks in a hospital room and nine days in the coma. The doctors were afraid of the consequences but I was thankful to not have any. After that, she couldn’t stay in Manchester. That’s why we’ve moved to London.”

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

“Ever since I’ve woken up in this white room, she kept telling me that life is a present and that we had to cherish it instead of wasting it.”

“She was right.”

“She often told me that I was her present in life, her little miracle. She was supposed to stop her pregnancy, to abandon me but she just couldn’t. When she had me in her arms, she knew she had to keep me. Life had given her a child and she couldn’t give him on him.”

“Where would we all be if you weren’t there?”

  She was speaking of Joanne who had fought for her son, of Liv who was self-depreciating and hating herself after her rape, of Clara who couldn’t found her way in life before he taught her sciences, of Jack who was fighting the ghosts of his past as a soldier, of Tegan who had been badly treated in his previous job, of herself who would have died under Jimmy’s fists if he hadn’t knocked the door down. Maxence Spitz had saved them all. He was a present of life to this world and no one could convince Rose of the contrary…

Our last winter © | 2018 | Tous droits réservés.

×××

Buy me a coffee?

[funkymeihem-fiction]

Metal Flowers (A Meihem Fanfic Drabble)

(The other version of Glow in the Dark)

The attack had blindsided their defense from the left, where Mei and Junkrat had been positioned. One moment everything had been normal, and then the next, everything had turned to fire and pain and hot metal. Junkrat had gone down first, and Mei had thrown up one of her walls to protect them. But not even her ice could stand the barrage, and the last thing she could remember was her screaming for him to hang on, just hang on. She was going to get them through this. Covering her body with his, she felt something collide hard with the side of her head, and after that she couldn’t remember anything at all.

She awoke over a week later in the intensive care unit. She’d had more than her fair share of unpleasant awakenings, but this one had to rank up there. Everything hurt, but she had lived, so her protective ice must have done its job yet again. She would just have to rest and be stuck in the clinic again. She reached for the little buzzer near the bed, summoning Angela to her side. Dr. Ziegler seemed relieved that she was awake and well, taking her hand and squeezing it before puttering about with the IV drips and various devices stacked around her hospital bed. But the doctor was oddly silent, and Mei figured she was likely busy with other patients.

Other patients like Jamison. Where was Jamison? The bed next to hers was empty, and Mei sighed softly and asked where he was and when he would be coming to visit. Likely he’d caused enough trouble that they’d quarantined him to his own personal med ward again. But now that she was awake, she hoped he had fared a little better than her, and wanted to see him.

But Angela said that Jamison wasn’t going to be coming, and paused for a very long time as if searching for other words to say. Mei did not like that at all. So instead she asked, maybe when she was stronger in a day or two, she could go see him instead? No. Angela denied her yet again, and instead placed a gentle hand over hers. Why was she doing that? Why was her expression like that? Shouldn’t she be happy that they were doing better? Why couldn’t she go see him? Mei heard her own tones go from asking, to pleading, to utter desperation. She had to see him. She had to see him, please. Let her go see him. But some part of her already knew that it wouldn’t do any good. No amount of begging would let her see him. And she knew why, even though she wished she didn’t.

Angela stopped her when she started trying to climb out of bed, and in her sad and gentle way, confirmed what she already knew. Jamison was gone. His wounds had been too great, and while she had been sleeping, he had slipped away. While she was sleeping, death had passed her over and taken someone she had loved instead. While she was sleeping, he had not been able to escape the curse that followed her. Everyone she loved died, and every time she woke up, it got worse and worse.

When she slept, bad things happened.

***

Mei’s silence was far more devastating than any amount of crying. She’d always been easy to laugh and easy to cry, and to Jamison’s delight, had always been easy to anger and easy to fluster as well. Even she would admit that she cried a little more often than she would have liked. When anything remotely sad or heart-wrenching happened, she cried. When animals or kids got into dangerous situations in movies, she cried. When lovers were torn apart by drama in her favorite books, she cried. And there was one video that Jamison had always tormented her with, which was just a bunch of baby goats in sweaters romping over a farm field, which always made her burst into tears because ‘they were so happy’. Seeing Mei’s face as red as a tomato and covered in tears was hardly an unusual thing for everyone on base.

It was far more unnerving to see her so small and pale and blank-faced, sitting in her wheelchair and staring out a window, reduced to depressive catatonia. She was still quite lucid, and answered questions as softly and politely as usual. She let herself be wheeled about while her leg and the rest of her healed, and never forgot to say please or thank you. But though she tried to smile at all the attempts to cheer her up, it never reached anything beyond a half-hearted and distracted twist of her lips. Her gaze remained downcast and far away, barely visible over the shadows under her eyes that were getting darker by the day.

She hadn’t been sleeping well. If she slept, someone else might die.

Her friends, both old and new, showered her with gifts and cheer. Zarya had taken her wheelchair out for a stroll around the grounds for some fresh air, boisterously telling her stories and strange jokes that honestly didn’t translate very well from Russian, but Mei didn’t really hear them. Angela made an attempt to put together a menu of her favorite things and tried to get her to eat, but even vitamin-fortified dumplings and nutrient-enriched soups did little to stir an anemic appetite, and she barely picked at them. Winston spent hours at her bedside, coaxing her with cards or word games or her favorite shows, even though he would eventually fall into much-needed sleep almost every time. Lucio’s personalized mix of healing music sat on her tablet, the files unopened. Not even the one entitled ‘J-Man’ that he had put together in honor of the late Jamison Fawkes. The only gift she had made much use of was the knitted blanket that Ana had made for her, after she had told her she was feeling cold.

She had come out of Antarctica and the cold had lingered inside her, sometimes taking her out of her body and her mind, until she would freeze. Sometimes literally. And there she’d remain, trapped by ice and dark thoughts. And the only thing that could truly break through that ice…was fire. Though her introductions to the junker had been contentious at best, he’d battered down every wall she threw up, melted her cold defenses, and exploded into her life despite all her best efforts. Eventually (VERY eventually) she had finally come to embrace his fiery and madcap nature, and had fallen for him as well.

They had melded together surprisingly flawlessly after that. She cooled him down when he got too hot, and he kept her warm and protected from the cold…which was a foolish notion, in the end.

She never should have relied on a flame to keep her warm. Eventually, they always burned out.

***

The junker had never been good about keeping his personnel files in order, and apparently had not filled out anything for his last wishes or any form of will, and ‘returning’ him to the hostile government of Junkertown had been vetoed right out. So they had gone forward with a traditional funeral for lack of any better ideas. They had flowers and ribbons, though none of that seemed in keeping with his character, so D.Va and Lucio had decorated the bouquets with the shells of his smiley-face bombs, which made it a little better. Mei didn’t notice any of it. Dressed in mourning white, her bad leg still confining her to her wheelchair, she sat and she stared at the open part of the casket. The ruffled cloth around him was ridiculous, and if he had been awake, he would have definitely made fun of it. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t going to wake up. Instead he just lay there, his usually warm skin a ghastly pallor of gray blue that no amount of funerary make-up could disguise. His eyes were closed and he was wearing a shirt and tie and they had tried to style his hair and he wasn’t smiling.

It was barely Junkrat at all, just a cold shell long since abandoned. Like her friends and companions had been, too. All of them, cold and empty and locked in boxes or tubes, to be left behind and forgotten.

They lowered him into the hole they’d made at the military graveyard nearby. The clean white headstone read ‘Jamison Fawkes’ and ‘??? - 2084’ since nobody, including Junkrat himself, was precisely sure when he had been born. It was an unusually warm day, fitting for a man who had loved the heat, but Mei sat under her blanket and still felt cold. The funerary chaplain read something suitably non-denominational, but she didn’t pay attention. And while she was distantly aware that some of his closer friends were crying around her, she still had no tears to shed. She sat there, staring at the hole in the ground where he was being ‘laid to rest’, and briefly pondered joining him in it.

She kept reverting to that icy tomb in her mind, more and more. Jamison was no longer there to wrap his arms around her and tease her or distract her or make her laugh. The warmth that radiated off his body would never be pressed against her again. And his little habits of biting on her neck or her ears to ‘bring her back’ were gone with him. She missed it. She missed him. Even all the annoying things she’s scold him for, she missed those so much. His forgetfulness and unpredictability and tendency to smear soot everywhere…What would she give for just one more moment with him, standing on her tip toes and wrapping her arms around his chest because he was too tall, and telling him he was stinky, and arguing with him over something stupid yet again…She missed arguing with him. She missed everything about him. She missed him so badly that it hurt to think of him. So instead, she would just sit there numbly, and stare at nothing, and think of nothing too.

And mostly, she let it happen. Because too often, her thoughts would inevitably wander back to her wishing that she had died with him. And those were bad thoughts to have, weren’t they? Here everyone was, full of light and happiness and trying their best to bring her back to her old self. Her friends still loved her and wanted her to live. But their light and their love was nothing compared to his fire, and no matter how they tried, she still just felt cold.

Angela had tried everything, but Mei’s progress was agonizingly slow. Her wounds had mostly healed but she remained frail. She’d seen it happen too many times. Grieving was one thing, and could cause sickness to linger. Mei’s grieving and guilt had been intense when she had returned from Antarctica, but she had gotten through it. But this was no longer just grief. There were times when a patient simply gave up, and no amount of medical knowledge would help, when living or dying no longer mattered to them. She barely slept or ate or bathed, and merely existed in her little corner, silent under her blankets and alone with nothing but distant echoes of sorrow, and every day she slipped further away into the numbness that had become her world. Even her number of visitors slowly lessened, as life went on and nothing seemed to affect her. Even her best friends no longer thought they could help her.

…Until there was one particular person who arrived, who had not visited her before.

***

Roadhog had barely seemed to react to his younger partner’s death. The pig-masked man had always been a hard read, but he showed no signs of grief or sadness. He had been in the waiting area when Junkrat had first slipped away, and was the first to receive the news. He had nodded once, bowed his head to Angela in farewell, gotten up, and left. And when someone was finally sent to find him again, he was gone. They had eventually tracked his progress to him simply walking off the base, into the city, and catching a civilian flight back to Australia. After his arrival into his homeland, he had utterly vanished. He had missed the viewing, and the funeral, and everything else. Without his younger charge keeping him here, some wondered if he was going to come back at all.

That had been weeks ago. Just as abruptly as he had left, Roadhog had returned. Ignoring Winston’s and 76’s attempts to berate him, he lumbered back into the base with no fanfare, slinging the heavy pack off his back and physically throwing the cleaning bot out of what had been his and Junkrat’s rooms. No bots, he had said, and shut the door behind him. A few hours later, cutting off the requests for meetings and explanations, he left the dorm and headed for the south bay viewing window where Mei usually lingered for most of the day. Just as expected, she was there, sitting in her chair and staring out at the ocean, pretending that was what she was watching.

He greeted her with a grunt, and for the first time that day she actually noticed anything enough to respond. The old junker had expected a little anger and likely well-earned resentment for his absence, but received nothing but a mildly surprised ‘welcome back,’ before she turned away. Even behind the glass of his mask’s lenses, he saw the look in her eye…or rather, that there was no look in her eye. The spark there had all but faded was was left blank and dull. He knew that look well. He’d seen it in others. And in the mirror.

He might have told her that he knew what she was feeling. He could have told her everything. Including the parts about his wife, and his daughter, and his family, and how he had killed them and everybody else. He could have told her about the days when he was Mako instead of Roadhog. And how losing everything made you lose yourself too. But what good would that have done for either of them? He was a private man, and nearly everyone on the base had some sort of tragic incidents in their past. Just knowing of his own torment would have done nothing to lessen her own. Maybe he would save that for another time, if ever.

Instead he told her that he had something for her, took her chair and began to wheel her off. For the first time in a while, she stirred a bit, and asked him where he had been. He had gone back to Australia, to take care of some things and find something that Junkrat had told him to find. He had found it, and told her as much. From then on, there was a small list of things to wrap up and petty vengeance to finish, and then he had come back. To finish the last thing Junkrat had wanted.

He took her down into the laboratory sector of the base, down to the very, very bottom where Junkrat’s former workshop had been cordoned off. Still filled with live explosives, Overwatch hadn’t quite gotten around to cleaning it out yet. Few were allowed in here, but Roadhog and Mei had never been turned away. Even after he was gone, it was the same, and the locked doors opened to their keycards. Hog held up a finger for her to wait, then stepped inside. Mei watched dully, though one brow slowly lifted as she watched him swiftly dismantle two traps, a noise alarm, and a hidden concussive blast panel hidden under a rug, before he finally took her inside.

The old junker searched amongst the absolute melee of trash and chaos that his former partner preferred, and finally came up with a simple cardboard box with the words SECRET: FUCK OFF sharpie’d on the side. Opening it up to check inside, he nodded and then held it out to Mei, telling her that Jamison had meant it for her. She gently denied this. Junkrat had never finished his will, and hadn’t left her anything. Roadhog snorted, rolled his eyes at that particular thought, and just held out the box. Curiosity stirring from somewhere out of her numb state, she took it, and looked inside.

Inside was a tattered piece of curtain cloth, hiding a tangle of metal that had been welded together in the shape of a flower. Several of them, actually, laid out on top of each other, and two of them were unfinished. Very slowly, uncertainty evident, she went to lift one of them out and inspect it. She recognized it as once. It was a painstakingly made scrapmetal peony, her favorite flower. The numerous petals must have taken hours to sculpt on each one, and he had made several of them.

Roadhog said that Rat had made her a bouquet of metal roses once, on one of his many bids to impress her. But once he’d sniffed out that her favorite blooms were not roses, but peonies, he had binned the whole lot of them and started all over again. Working by pictures on the internet, or occasionally pinching a real bloom from a florist shop where he could, he had been working on this new project for months…when he could remember to. He’d told Hog to remind him whenever he could. It was supposed to be done in time for her birthday, after all.

Mei quietly lifted each of the metal peonies, delicately inspecting them. He hadn’t been able to finish all of them, and one of them was…downright bizarre? The stem was hollow, and there was a strange gap behind the face of the petals. Glancing down into the box, Hog sighed. He hadn’t been able to talk Rat out of that idea, and that particular flower was supposed to explode on a timer device once the box was opened. At least he’d been able to convince Rat to use glitter instead of gunpowder. Mei turned the boobytrap peony around and around in her fingers, and uttered a noise that was almost a laugh. Only someone like Junkrat would ruin his own beautiful handmade birthday gift by turning it into a bomb. Only him. She laughed, and it turned into a choked little sob that she cut off quickly. She didn’t know why, but her fingers started tightening around the metal flower, her hands beginning to tremble. The petals squeaked and bowed as her grip tightened, until the metal could no longer yield and one of her fingers slid the wrong way and sliced open along a sharp edge.

She hissed aloud, and Hog almost went to reach for her. But she only loosened her grip and watched as several droplets of bright, bright red blood oozed down her finger and onto the metal peonies below.

It felt…warm.

Her dull expression warped and shifted, into something stricken. Hugging the box to her chest, she bent double until she was curled over it, and her shoulders began shaking. Tears started to patter on top of the drips of red, and she uttered several scraping, gasping whimpers. And suddenly she was just crying, her chest heaving in convulsing dry sobs that tore themselves out of her again and again. Hog stood towering over her in awkward silence, eventually reaching out with one gigantic hand to place it on her back, patting her gently.

She looked up at him, her glasses askew and smeared with water, streaming from red-rimmed eyes. She could barely even manage to choke out her words.

“I miss him. I miss him…”

He nodded and waited for the flood to subside. Scrubbing at her face, she sniffled aloud, hiccuping and then apologizing for hiccuping. Hog visibly relaxed. That was more along the lines of what he was used to from Mei. She gingerly picked up one her metal peonies, its form blurred through her streaky glasses. She’d buy something to put them in, and then put them on her dresser. Maybe she could frame some of their photos from their time together and put them next to it. Next to the pictures of her team from her Antarctica expedition, and the pictures of her mother, and her father…and everyone else she had lost along the way. Put them all together, clustered around the bouquet of metal flowers he had made for her.

She started to try and rise, wincing as her leg sent a lance of pain as a reminder of its state. She still had healing to do. Easing back into her wheelchair, she asked if Roadhog was going to be busy. Probably later, he would be, after the higher-ups had finally cornered him. But not yet. It was a long way to wheel herself to the cemetery, and she asked if he would not mind going with her. Maybe…they could talk, on the way over? Even though it might hurt her throat, to suddenly be talking again. But he said he would, and grasped the handles of her chair to start guiding her out of the lab. Maybe on the way over, they could stop and get some flowers so that she could put them on his grave. She was keeping her metal bouquet…but maybe they could buy him some peonies?

The old junker grunted and nodded, and pushed open the door to the outside with his elbow, pulling her chair after him. Wheeling her across the base’s yard and towards the gates, Hog headed for the graveyard. He didn’t know where the exact spot was, but they could find it. They’d always been good at finding him. Mei clung tightly to the box in her lap, looking down at the way the metal glinted and caught the light. It was a very bright day, after all…and maybe she was a little overdressed for this place.

Maybe she even felt a little warm.

She pushed her blanket to the side and faced the sunlight.

[markleetrashh]

Two Different Worlds;Johnny

Part two;Hers:

Part one;His

Genre: Angst

Sypnosis: Could a relationship ever work out between two people from two different backgrounds? And if it did, would it last? Sadly, sometimes what you wish would not happen ends up happening.

A/N: and part two’s finally up! i hope you all liked this story that i spent days thinking and writing and if you all could give me your comments on this i’d appreciate it thank you 💖

Word Count: 6,267

*Warnings: Mild language, mild violence

*written in reader’s perspective

——

“I never thought rough hands could feel soft and warm. Your laughter made my heart soar. I just wish we could’ve kept going.”

——

My legs wandered and wandered, around this unfamiliar place where i’ve never once stepped foot in. My eyes were wide open, but it was as though i couldn’t see anything ahead of me; especially in the darkness.

But i didn’t seem to mind, not even a single bit.

All i wanted was my legs to bring me somewhere away from the stressful city that only brought unhappiness to me, somewhere away from all my problems.

I wanted to find calmness in the hectic life i was living in.

Sometimes i wished i hadn’t made the promise to father back then before he left; to get into a top university and being the best, if not, one of the few in my major.

It’s not that i didn’t have the potential, it’s just that sometimes it can get a little too much to handle, especially when you’re all alone, without any friends or family members to support you.

But it was father’s only wish, and i wanted to make him happy even when he’s gone.

I just wanted to have fun like any other woman in their twenties, but everyday i felt suffocated by the heavy pressure of the major’s requirements alongside with the expectations the professors and lecturers have of me; i just wanted happiness.

Then the place i happened to stumble across allowed me to meet you.

You whom i found peace in almost everything.

I met the eyes of nine boys standing in front of me, their faces looking shocked from my presence.

Then one of them came up to me and grabbed my arm, as i immediately grabbed hold of the books in my hands tightly, my head lowering down from his sudden action.

“What are you doing here?”

He shot me a stern look, and asked in a threatening manner, which did not help at all in easing my frightened heart.

I tried to find an answer from inside, but nothing came out from my mouth; i was too scared to say anything.

What’s more, my mind was too blank.

Then my eyes met yours as i looked up to seek help desperately. In your eyes i could see a sense of sympathy, as though you could read my mind and understood how i was feeling.

In that intense and cold atmosphere, only your eyes looked at me with such softness, as it set my then frightened heart at ease for a few seconds.

I sent a message through my eyes, begging for you to step up and stop your friend before he asked me even more questions.

And you did. The man who grabbed me let go in an instant as soon as you cleared your throat, as i looked up to you once more.

“Let me handle her. You all can go in first”

As you took steps closer and closer to me, i didn’t dare look up, afraid that you might do something to me.

But you didn’t, instead, you looked at me with the softest of eyes and showed me that you wouldn’t hurt me, and i trusted you.

With manners, you kept your arm around me and my shoulders, and i knew you didn’t have any bad intentions; you just wanted to keep me safe, and i didn’t mind.

Instead, i was thankful.

Thankful that you took the initiative to help me and even look after me, a complete stranger.

I gave you my brightest smile in gratitude of you helping me, as i watched you give me a small grin back.

Then you told me i shouldn’t be out here alone, claiming that it was dangerous. But when i asked you for the reason why, you couldn’t say out an answer - something was holding you back.

I watched as you listen attentively to every word i said, your head nodding and humming in response to every sentence, as you gave me another look of sympathy and concern after i told you about father.

In your eyes, for some reason, i found comfort.

Then giving me a small pat on my back, you led me out of these abandoned and dark streets, and as soon as you saw light again from the city, you stopped in your tracks.

“Promise me, never ever come back here again, alright?”, your words took me by surprise, as the question to what hid behind this place appeared once again in my mind. You said those words with sincerity and concern.

You seemed like you cared for me.

Then i said out the words to you, filled with the same amount of concern, “Like you said this place is dangerous, and i don’t know exactly how dangerous it is but, please keep yourself safe”

I noticed your eyes widen right after, as you immediately avoided my gaze as your cheeks turned into a light shade of pink.

Then you broke the silence, “I will and thank you.”

But i could tell that you were lying. I could see it in your eyes.

You didn’t look as sincere saying those words; as though you were reluctant.

And how could you, with a whole bunch of other boys living in an abandoned and mysterious street be safe?

Then you bid goodbye to me, as we parted our ways.

A part of me wanted to stay by your side; i didn’t want to go back.

I thought i was crazy, thinking too much about you, a stranger whom i just met and finding comfort in you.

But i don’t regret it, and never will.

Because those thoughts of you were what made us meet once again.

——

“Y/N, i need you to focus more in lectures. Based on the previous assignment you missed out a few points and that made you lose the chance to score a 100%.” the middle aged man in front of me said out to me in an upset tone, his frown not denying his disappointment.

My heart sank at his words as i felt another part of me being wrecked.

Not again.

“Sorry professor. But it’s hard to get a 100% on assignments especially since this is a new module i’ve only started taking last week-”

He cut me off, “No excuses. I’ve heard from other lecturers that you’re their best and favourite student. How can i call you the same when you can’t even do this?” he cut me off, my eyes sinking again.

“But i already got a 97%? Isn’t that good enough for a first time” i shot him back, in hope that it would make him happy, at the very least.

But he didn’t even take a glance at me.

Just simply shaking his head, “I expect more from you.”

The third time this week.

Every single conversation i had with the professors and lecturers at the university revolved around getting perfect grades, with them having the highest of expectations for me.

And i tried my best to hit their expectations, but they asked for more.

Which was why maybe, the people around me thought i was too ambitious, or that i was taking away the opportunities away from them.

They got distant; everyone got distant from me. The room i used to share with my roommate at the dormitory eventually became a place i wasn’t even allowed to step foot in, with her locking the door out on me.

The apartment i rented out provided me with shelter and a place i could call home, but i still felt lonely sometimes.

Or maybe, all the time.

Because i had no one to talk to; no friends, no family, not even a single living person around me bothered to care or ask how i was doing.

The only person who truly ever understood me was father, but he wasn’t there anymore.

—

The tears came out from my eyes the moment i reached the garden, as my fingers reached up to swipe off the layer dust that had accumulated on his headstone.

I’m sorry for even having the thought to break my promise with you, papa. I’m sorry it’s so hard for me to deal with all these. I miss you so much.

The emotions came gushing out from deep within as i sat next to the headstone hidden in my own circle, the silence from the garden comforting every broken part of me.

Then i thought of you. For some reason I wished that i would stumble upon you again, so that at least someone would ask how i was feeling.

The thought of seeing you smile allowed my heart to feel light, and it was a smile no one has ever shown to me for years.

How desperate was i to seek help from a stranger?

Maybe it was a coincidence, or preferably, fate.

For the moment i shot my head up upon hearing footsteps settling beside me and realised that i was looking at you and your eyes, my entire mood was saved.

You looked at me with eyes full of concern, then i faked a smile pretending to be alright, which you didn’t believe; you didn’t smile back, instead, i could see a frown slowly forming as your eyes stared deeply into mine.

I feigned a laughter, hoping that this time, it would bypass you. But it didn’t; your eyes were still piercing deep into my soul, as though wanting me to tell you the truth, all my problems and sadness.

You were willing to listen.

But i guess i was too afraid to open myself up to you, afraid you might leave too, like the others.

So i quickly changed the topic, and took the chance to ask for your name.

“I’m Johnny, nice to see you again.. I guess”

There was faint shade of pink on your cheek once again as i took my hand in yours.

Your hands were rough - they felt like sandpaper or perhaps stone; well suited with your masculine body. Yet they were warm and comforting.

Then i took up the courage to say the words to you, “You’re a really nice guy, you know”

You paused for a moment, unable to reply to the sudden compliment. I watched as you stuttered a little before thanking me, as though it was the first time someone has ever complimented you.

Maybe it was, but i meant what i said. Because how could someone i barely even knew be this nice and open to me?

There was a look of disappointment in your eyes as your phone lit up, as i quickly took a glimpse of the message, “Johnny come back right now we need your help to track down some people.” - Tae

It sounded serious, and it looked serious. As much as i was curious about what it meant, i didn’t want to invade your privacy.

So you cleared your throat and hid your phone away, before looking at me apologetically.

I could tell you didn’t want to leave, and i didn’t want you to leave too.

But you really needed to, as though it depended on your life.

So you left, and all that i saw of you was your back, and i was left alone again.

But i felt much better, all thanks to you.

Right after i wished that we’d meet again, we did and you managed to bring about happiness and peace for me.

Maybe you’d think that i should have never wished for that, but i will never regret my choice, and never would.

——

My heart stopped the moment i realised who was standing at my door; she wore a thick and heavy coat around her shoulders, her ankles strapped with the heels that she wore as her face was caked with layers of makeup.

She smiled at me, her eyes filled with uncertainty, as though she couldn’t bring herself to say a word to me.

And i wished she didn’t.

“It’s been a long time” she reached out to grab my hand, but i moved away, not even looking her in the eye.

And i didn’t answer; i didn’t want to.

Because how could someone who walked out on me 10 years ago gain my trust back?

But she didn’t give up. She smiled at me again, this time bigger, holding up the bag in to me, “I know this is all unexpected but i heard you’re doing well in university so i bought a few gifts to congratulate you”

I didn’t budge a single bit again, and refused to even take a look into the bag.

Then her smile turned into a frown, her expression changing almost immediately as she said to me in an irritated tone, “Look, can’t you just put the past behind and let me fulfil the role of your mother? Why are you being so cold and rude to me”

My blood boiled at her words, as i found myself clenching my fist tightly as i bit my lips, trying to suppress my anger.

“You left without a single word back then and you expect me to respect you? When you didn’t even do anything to help raise me? Father passed on because your sudden departure was too much for him to handle. How could i put everything in the past when it comes back haunting me every single day?” i hissed back at her, my eyes full of hatred.

And i said out the last sentence with almost no emotions, “And i have no mother”

She rolled her eyes at my reply, then let out a small scoff, before throwing the bag right outside of the door, before walking off as though nothing happened, “To think i even thought of wanting to reconcile with you. A waste of my time”

The moment she left i fell onto the ground, the walls that held me and my anger up collapsing, as the tear drops fall from my chin, drenching my shirt.

I threw a punch to the ground, but i was returned with nothing other than the pain that hit me back; but not as painful as the ache in my heart.

Why did she have to come back? Why did she have to come find me?

I needed a getaway; a much stronger one.

—

I found myself walking the same path i walked when i first met you, amongst the abandoned streets.

For some reason i wanted to see you, once again.

But the lights from the sign caught my attention, and at that moment before thinking for a second, i entered the place.

A place i’d never thought i’d step into ever.

But the loud music at the place seemed to clear my mind off the problems i had, as i watched a few people letting themselves free; they looked happy, and i wanted to be happy too.

So i called for a glass of liquor, hoping it would take my mind away for a while. The first sip didn’t do much, and so did the second, and third.

By the time i gulped down the eighth glass, my mind was swirling around, as my vision started to get blurry.

But i found myself laughing and giggling, and i couldn’t even remember the reason why i resorted to that in the first place; i was too drunk.

But then there was a hand that gripped my shoulder, a familiar touch.

Then a familiar face; it was you.

My lips formed a smile as soon as i saw your face, happy that i got to see you again.

Then i blurted out a few words i couldn’t remember saying, but you didn’t smile the same way i did. Instead, you looked upset and bothered that i was in this state.

You tried to pull me away, but i resisted. I didn’t want to go back to living life. I wanted to be free, for once.

But you said out to me a few words that moved my heart, or maybe because i was too drunk to resist anymore, so i let you pull me away.

And till this day, im thankful that you did.

—

The sharp pain in my head caused me to open my eyes, as i found myself in an unfamiliar place.

But you were sitting right in front of me, your eyes looking at me softly.

I rubbed my eyes in confusion as i tried to recall what happened the night before, but i couldn’t. How did you appear right in front of me?

The second you realised i was awake, you rushed to my side, as you babbled a few words that i couldn’t make out, along the lines of “Are you alright” and “We didn’t do anything to you”. Or that my mind was too in pain to comprehend anything.

Then you paused when i cut you off, “What happened?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but a young, brown-haired man with doe like eyes appeared from behind you, as he held out a cup to me with his hands, “Nice guy Johnny here offered to take you back here because he was worried since you were too drunk to even stand. You alright now?”

Taking the cup in my hands, my gaze shifted to you and in your expression i could tell that you were concerned and worried over me. I muttered a small thank you to you under my breath, hoping you’d see it, and you did it; you shook your head and gave me a small assuring smile, as though it was something you needed to do.

Then the young man gave you a tap on your shoulder as you nodded your head and signalled for the boys to leave.

The place i was in looked dull and dark, with many computers and gadgets lying on the tables, as the walls were filled with maps that were covered in writings and sketches. At the corner of the place there was a small room, as i noticed the many weapons lying in there.

I was right; you and your group of friends were not ordinary people.

Because who would isolate themselves from the city and hide in a forgotten place like here?

Then you broke the silence, your hands touching my shoulder, as you said the words that once again, showed that you cared.

“Please never do that to yourself again. Don’t suffer alone”

But i let my words slip out of my mouth again, “How can i not do that when i’m already alone?”. And i was hoping that you’d ignore it and dismiss my broken heart and pitiful life that i knew i was living.

But you didn’t. Instead i watched your expression fall at the sound of my words, your eyebrows furrowing together to form a look of confusion.

Then you said out the words that got me hooked onto you, and would always remain in my heart forever,

“You’re not alone, you have me.”

It took me by surprise, for at a time like this i needed someone to be there for me and tell me i wasn’t alone; and you did. You build up a wall around my heart like no one has ever did before.

I found myself reaching out for your hand, as i rubbed your fingers and gave you the most sincere smile, thanking you for your words that gave me comfort.

Then the best happened.

I took up the courage to ask for your number, which i could tell you were hesitant about at first. But you eventually gave in, as you typed the numbers into my phone and passed it back to me with a smile.

It was the best because it was from then where we started to become closer, where one thing led to another.

And i knew what i was getting myself into, but i wasn’t afraid.

I just wanted to be with you.

—

Before i left i asked to confirm if i should keep this place a secret; not like i had anyone else to tell it too, but i didn’t want to put you in danger.

It must have confused you, as you assumed that i didn’t know what was happening, or to be more specific, what you all were doing.

And i was right.

“What do you mean?” you asked as you stared deep into my eyes, looking for an answer as you seemed to doubt whether i knew the truth or not.

But i didn’t say anything else, just mentioning about the place and what happened last night.

So you didn’t think much about it, just nodding your head and asking me for the favour of keeping all of this a secret.

——

I remember exactly how it happened; each day i found myself craving you and your presence more, for you were my happiness that i could seek comfort in, something i’ve been wanting for years.

And you, you were lost in me too. The look on your face and eyes whenever i was by your side was enough to tell me that you needed me too.

To you, i was also your happiness.

Maybe one could say our relationship developed too fast, for we were madly in love with each other and you became the reason why i looked forward to a brand new day each day.

Maybe it was selfish of me for just wanting to have you all to myself, and i regret not being more careful. But i wanted to hear your voice and your words of advice whenever i wasn’t feeling my best, because you were the only thing that could make me feel better.

And i watched you focus every attention on me and giving your all to me. And thinking back, i’m sorry for making you feel like you were disregarding your job.

Maybe you wish that the small dates we had shouldn’t have happened, as i watched you fall even deeper for me every single time we met, your eyes looking at me full of love and passion whenever we stared deep into each other in silence.

But it was the same for me too; i was too wrapped up over the idea of having you and wanting you to even think straight. Yet those small dates are memories that i’ll keep forever in my heart.

Then you finally told me the truth, and it was at that moment we broke down the walls between us as i accepted you as who you were, like how you accepted me.

The night you told me, i could tell that you were afraid, afraid that i might leave you or mind the truth. Instead i touched your heart by telling you words from deep within, saying that i love you for who you are, regardless of whatever setbacks that held you down.

Because who was i to mind that you were a criminal, when you only brought about happiness to my life?

That was also the night i couldn’t control myself any longer; we both couldn’t. And as though both of hearts spoke the same words and wanted the same thing, our eyes never once left each other as our lips touched quickly.

The touch of you sent chills to my body, as the temperature and atmosphere around us got more tense and heated, with your hands roaming every part of my body, i realised that you were everything to me.

You were what i needed.

It was the same for you too, you couldn’t stop yourself. Your hands pulled my face and body closer to yours as you barely even gave me a second to catch my breath, with your tongue exploring every inch of my mouth as your hot breath tingled against my skin, i could tell you wanted me as much as i wanted you.

Our actions meant much more than words could ever mean that night, words we couldn’t bring ourselves to say before.

—

I could tell that the boys weren’t too accepting of me at first, and i could understand why. Because who would have thought they’d let anyone else other than themselves know about where they lived and risk their lives like that?

And all of them were cold to me at first, trying to convinve you to let go of me before our relationship deepened, but you were too stubborn; and i was also persistent.

Eventually over time they became more open, as they started to trust me day by day and trust that i wouldn’t let any of this slip out.

So we got to spend more time together.

Although you were busy most of the time, having to crack codes and hack into websites and organisations to spend time with me, i was contented just to have you by my side.

I got to see a new side to you; the serious and charismatic side where you’d pay full attention and focus hard on the computer but end up with the bright smile of yours whenever you’ve successfully finished your task.

It made me love and adore you more.

Being with you allowed me to be more brave, and also gave me a sense of motivation. My performance in university had improved a whole lot, and i found myself not stressing or being unhappy over them like the way i used to, before i met you.

You were what kept me going.

You said once before that you felt like our differences aften made you feel inferior, but i always told you that i didn’t mind at all, and that it didn’t mean anything to me.

But occasionally you’d still doubt yourself, asking if you deserved me or not.

And my answer would always be yes, you deserved me as much as i deserved you.

Yet you were hard to convince, and i don’t blame you.

——

Because the worst and unexpected happened.

The minute i stepped out of the apartment building i felt a presence behind my back, as though someone was staring at me.

But there was no one - no one i could see, that is.

It continued for days, especially whenever i came to see you, the presence and feeling would get more intense.

Was someone out to cause harm to you?

So i contemplated a little before telling you, as i knew i had to let you know sooner or later. And as expected, you were worried and concerned for me.

You suggested to call some of your men to protect me and follow me, but i rejected your offer, afraid that it would make the matter worse.

What’s more, it could have landed you in trouble.

You tried asking again, but i assured you and told you it was really fine, so you listened to me.

But i realise i was wrong.

I wish you didn’t.

But it’s all my fault and i’m sorry.

—

I heard the loud bang of the door hitting the floor from the outside of my room and the shuffling of feet from outside, as i immediately grabbed my phone and locked my door, pressing my body against it.

But there were too many of them. Once they realised that i had locked the door, they started forcing themselves from the outside, kicking and hitting it as hardly as they could.

First kick, second kick, and third kick.

My frail and shaking body couldn’t handle the amount of force, as i was thrown to the ground immediately, as i was met with men wearing all black, guns in their hands.

I tried to dial for your number, but it was already too late. One of them snatched my phone violently and pressed a damp cloth against my nose and mouth tightly as the others tied my hands and legs together.

My struggles got weaker and weaker, and eventually i was too weak to even move my finger, as my drowsy eyelids covered my vision and i was met with darkness.

—

I woke up to a pain in my back and then across my cheek, as the man in front of me threw his palm to my cheek, then laughing to himself hysterically when he met my eyes that were already tearing up.

I tried to pull my hands and legs apart, but they were bounded tightly with the thick ropes behind me, my knees scraping the rough ground as i tried to struggle.

Another slap across my cheek.

I need you Johnny

The man lifted my chin with his finger, then exclaimed to me with his eyebrows raised, “Top in major in the best university? How did such a great woman like you fall in love with a low, and notorious man like him? Sounds perfect for a drama script.”

I rolled my eyes at his words, then with anger, i cursed at him, “It’s none of your fucking business about our relationship. What do you want from Johnny?”

His hands pulled my hair tightly, ignoring my cries, then hissed into my ear, “Your dear boyfriend and his bunch killed two of my men yesterday and if you didn’t know already we are not on good terms, and never have been.”

He pulled even harder.

“But thanks to you we finally found a way to threaten them and get what we want, to get back everything we’ve lost to them.”

The tears came out even more at his words, because is started to realise that me wanting to help you had backfired instead, as it only seemed to be causing you more harm.

Then he gave a nod to another man, as he pressed on your contact number from my phone that was in his hand.

And within seconds, you picked up, knowing that i needed help, since i hardly ever called you this late at night.

Then the man gave me a few more slaps, and i let out a cry from the pain, as you were frantically shouting through the phone, demanding for an explanation as to what was happening.

The man said out a few nonsensical words that i couldn’t hear clearly to you, as i was silenced by my own cries.

But your voice; it made me more weak thinking about how worried you must have been, trying to control your anger and hold back your emotions at the thought of me being in danger.

Then i cried even more, and with every energy i had left, i called out your name loudly, and you shouted again through the phone, but it got cut off and i couldn’t hear your voice anymore.

Only the sound of crying and shouting coming from the background.

The man demanded everything from you all, but you all didn’t even flinch, putting my safety above all priorities and agreeing to all his demands.

Then the call ended, and the man turned around to give me a smirk, before patting my head.

My heart raced at the thought of you.

I’m sorry if i made you cry and worried.

—

My head shot up when i heard the sounds of running coming from the front, and as i squinted my eyes to look afar, i saw you, your face full of anger and worry, as you desperately wanted to come and save me.

But i was too weak to even more anymore, the pain from bruises on my body making it worse for me to bear.

They didn’t treat me like a human being at all.

And as you got nearer and could make out that it was me, i could tell that you wanted to run forward and untie me, but you couldn’t. You needed to control yourself.

The boys held you back to make sure you didn’t act on impulse.

Then i looked at you, the same way i did when i first met; there was a connection, one of a signal begging for you to help me, and that i really needed you.

My eyes were too swollen and sore to even open, but your eyes being locked in mine was enough to keep me going.

You probably blamed yourself for causing all these to happen to me, but it’s not your fault. I was the one who brushed the matter away.

The man cut to chase and immediately demanded for Taeyong to pass him everything that you all had planned for months, as he looked through every single paper and the stacks of cash, before flashing another smirk on his disgusting face.

As you watched him with your eyes on fire.

He walked up to you, and mocked you, “Thanks to you and your stupid love affair, we get to earn loads of money so thank you.”

My heart sank even deeper at his words, like knifes stabbing me deep in my back, something inside me killed me.

You rose your arm immediately, but i stared at you and slightly shook my head, as Yuta held your arm back even tightly too. Then you let out a deep breath and gritted your teeth.

“Release Y/N now”

Immediately after you said those words, he made his way to me, as i kept my head low, not wanting to look into his eyes.

But he grabbed me from behind and with full force, pushed me towards you all onto the hard ground, the impact and pain making me cry out in pain.

Then he finally left.

You rushed towards me and ripped apart the ropes that held me together and took my weak body into your arms, as you let out a cry and groan of frustration, followed by the tears that you tried to hold back.

My arms wrapped around your waist, finally being able to be in your arms of safety and comfort again, as the tears from my eyes also kept flowing, slowly drenching your shirt.

It broke my heart to know that even the strong and hard headed man that i love was vulnerable and weak before my arms too, and holding on to me as though you didn’t want to let me go.

And i said out the words to you that made my heart feel at ease at that moment,

“You are here now and that’s all that matters”

Because your presence will never not be helpful to me.

——

But i knew things couldn’t keep going on the way it was after that incident.

It was too much of a blow to me, to the boys, and especially you.

You still showed me concern and love the same way you always did, making sure i was recovering and resting well.

But i could tell that in your mind, you had many thoughts. And that you were blaming yourself for all that happened.

And i know of how selfless you are; so the thought of yourself causing harm to the people you love must have haunted you for days.

For you started to show signs that you didn’t want to continue like that anymore.

And i didn’t want to stop you, as i knew you’d be even more unhappy if i did.

—

Then there came the day, you finally took up the courage to break it to me.

I’ve prepared my heart well and strong enough long before as i knew you’d tell me one day; that we couldn’t continue anymore.

You mentioned about how much you don’t want to be a burden to my life, bringing harm to me and causing me to live in fear.

You claimed to be of harm to my life.

But i didn’t say anything much, knowing that it wouldn’t change your mind. If it’s for the best and it’s a decision you’ve already made, i will respect your choice.

“I’ll always love you” i said before i left, wanting you to know that you shouldn’t blame yourself, and that i don’t blame you for all that happened.

Because what you didn’t know or could see was that you weren’t what you claimed to be to me; you were my hope, my happiness and getaway.

You were my remedy.

I would never think of you as selfish, because you are not and i know you will never become it, for i understand where you came from and that you just wanted to make me happier.

You let me go because you wanted me to achieve more.

But you were the best i’ve ever had, and i thank god everyday that i got to come across you.

But maybe we weren’t meant to be.

Thank you for everything, and all that you’ve done to brighten up my life.

And that,

I’m sorry i made you think that we could work out.