#hopefully this scans reasonably coherently

[nazmazh]

I don't think it's a thing, or at least not as pervasive of a thing as previous iterations of it, but it seems like True Crime Podcasts never really got the full Moral Panic(TM) treatment that other dark/lurid media got in their times.

Like comics were put under the yoke of The CCA, which effectively killed the crime (true or otherwise) genre, because it was believed to be a corrupting force.

Rock music, TTRPGs, and video games got an extra dose of Satanic Influence flavour in their panics, without even necessarily being all that lurid anyway, but especially with HUGE variability in tone and style between works in the same medium - Like KISS and others leaned into the "Ah! We're so strange and scary!" vibe. And several rockers intentionally pushed the boundaries of "acceptable" sexuality and expression for the times, sure. And much of the demonization of rock is rooted in racism because it was developed from African-American music styles (with certain genres, where the influence, and popularity with Black people was more obvious, got hit especially hard because of this). But like, the freaking Beatles were seen as potentially "dangerous" and "unwholesome" (the scandal of it all!) even before they leaned fully into New Age and other general weirdness that I could see as being especially off-putting to the kinds of people that go on these moral crusades.

Violence and any sort of sexual expression/depiction in movies and TV was blamed for corrupting the nation, especially the youth - and to some extent still is. Doubly so for video games.

Computers, the internet, and social media are still seen as direct pipelines of filth into vulnerable minds.

Heck, even Novels were seen as a craze that would drive the women and youths towards inappropriate behaviours, back when they first started being published - Too easy to print and distribute (way more possible for people with ill morals to publish material!), too conviently accessible by anyone - Not needing as careful of handling or storage, and much less likely to get damaged being carried around than previous printing methods; they'd distract from duties and anything could be published in those books, and they'd be easy enough to conceal from disapproving guardians due to how compact they could be

But I can't say that I've really seen much, if any real targeting of True Crime Podcasts with these sorts of accusations in any sort of very visible way. Not even from the usual moral crusader suspects (though I'm sure some of them no doubt are out there railing against the podcasts, because that outrage against everything is what sustains certain kinds of fundamentalists), and certainly not in the mainstream media - The most I think I've seen is a few mild, often self-deprecating, jokes, said with genuine fondness, in a few more trope-savvy works here and there.

And that's despite the presence of many of the crusaders' favourite punching bag traits:

- Lurid subject matter

- Often sensationalized presentation

- New form of media

- Easily consumable by the masses

- Incredibly popular, especially paired with a rapid rise in popularity

- Especially popular among women (who, as we know from previous panics, clearly have such delicate sensibilities and fragile, malleable minds that they absolutely, positively cannot be trusted to make their own decisions about media consumption. CLEARLY.).

I would make a note about it definitely being popular with young women, which it is, sure. But honestly, I'm reasonably certain it's not especially more popular with them than with older audiences. The podcast format specifically may not necessarily be the favourite medium for a older potential audience member, especially compared to a younger potential audience member, but there's plenty of people middle aged and older that happily listen to podcasts. However there is an absolute glut of true crime shows on TV, often marketed towards women. The Investigation Discovery spin-off channel is pretty much all true-crime shows and documentaries (with maybe some Based on a True Story- style dramatizations thrown in for good measure). And even though it's not specifically, explicitly a women-focused channel in the same way, say the Hallmark Channel or Lifetime are, much of their shows formatting and much of the marketing material definitely leans toward targeting and retaining women specifically as an audience. I can remember my grandma contentedly watching the channel all day long. And let's not forget the archetypical "Lifetime Movie" is generally taken to mean a True Crime "It Could Happen to You"-cautionary tale-dramatization.

Heck, even the collection of books inherited by grandma when her mother passed away included a large amount of non-fiction books about "Tracking The Murders of [such-and-such] County" and suchlike. So, no, I don't believe the True Crime fascination is exclusively a young person phenomenon. It's been around in some form for quite a while and maintains its appeal across age demographics.

So, what gives, moral crusaders? Where's your campaigns declaring True Crime Podcasts a danger to society? Where's your press tours? Why don't you have politicians taking the floor in meetings/council/congress/etc., to declare this media to be the scourge of the nation and the latest existential threat to Western Society? Won't SOMEBODY think of the children?!?!

I know we as a society aren't all stuck watching the same news/media sources anymore, and in many ways we're not as beholden to the control/influence of the, often (but not exclusively) Evangelical, Christian institutions that used to really push this stuff as an issue to the forefront of public discourse, but I can't believe that they'd've just completely gone away and stopped trying to force everyone else to adhere to their sense of indignation and live under their moral code.

It's almost as though they're not stirring up as much outrage about this because they found something else they think is a bigger problem and/or stands a better chance of catching on with mainstream audiences.

And... oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Well.

Shit.

I started writing this ramble upstairs, watching TV with my parents. They've been watching that "Based on a True Story" show. And that's what got me thinking about the pop-cultural niche True Crime Podcasts have found themselves in, and reactions to them compared to reactions to other forms of media that have discussed/depicted violent crimes and other controversial subject matter in the past and present (See also: Only Murders in The Building).

This was supposed to be an all-"Haha, isn't it kinda silly how things are?" little quip about how "Outrage ain't want it used to be". From my very privileged white dude point of view. But I think I stumbled into something here. Something that I might not even be the best person to talk about. So I won't go too in-depth on subjects I'm very much out of my depth on, but, I do kinda wanna get to my conclusion.

So uh...

Yeah, okay.

The Moral Crusaders are busy with other topics.

They've found bigger fish to fry, so to speak.

They're out there railing against favourable and even neutral depictions of queerness in media, especially children's media.

They're out there railing against social justice, racial equity, historical rectification, truth and reconciliation.

They're out there railing against science and education and instilling earnest curiosity in people.

Against secularization, diversity, and inclusivity.

Against correction of their own misinformation and indoctrination.

They put it all under one banner these days, and rail against it all as though it were a conspiracy to deliberately supplant them.

They're too busy crusading against "Wokeness" - Their idea of what that means, anyway.

I don't think it's the only reason there's not a big crusade against True Crime Podcasts, as I've said above, Christian morality has reduced official and unofficial influence in so-called Western society than it did in times past. And there's much better access to resources for getting different information and opinions on a subject than the people immediately around you and whatever the handful of news channels and papers you have access to tell you. That is to say, sources that require very little effort on one's own part. It's a heck of a lot easier to google something or check wikipedia than it would have been to have to trek down to the library and ask if they have any books or journals or magazine or... any sort of information about a subject.

And it's not like their boogeyman of "wokeness" isn't anything new for them to crusade against. They've always complained about it in some form or another - Who could forget the outrage against children's media back in the day?:

"Is Bugs Bunny gay?" "Is Spongebob gay?" "Is Tinky-Winky gay?"; "This book discusses subjects that should only be talked about between a mother and her daughter! It's disgusting!"; "I couldn't let my kids watch anything with magic in it - That's the devil's work! That's why I don't trust these mainstream educational programs!"

In terms of more outrageous complaints about children's media.

That's not to mention complaints about other media - Those expressly intended for adults. Or complaints about progressive actions taken in society in-general. Some of these have typically appealed only to the most vocal of cranks - The kind of things complaining about depicting characters who do un-Christian things in works, or that students are being taught proper sexual education or that vaccination is mandatory for entry into institutions like public schools.

But there's plenty of complaints that don't garner immediate pushback from less-extreme conservatives or even so-called moderates: "Why is there so much diversity in casting these days? Why can't they just make their own shows?", "Why are they coming after that comedian for telling edgy jokes?", "Why are they pushing this global warming crap down our throats so much anyway?"

In "wokeness", they've found something that seems to not only unite everything under one banner, but resonate more strongly with some people than the old canards of "liberal" or "politically correct". Sure, there's always been people who have said those with the same contempt and venom that they use for the truly heinous things of the world. But in co-opting "woke" from the original meaning among Black people expressing solidarity with each other and encouraging others to to remain aware of the social and political issues that definitely, almost-always negatively, affected their lives, the moral crusaders have found something that strikes a nerve with a large swath of people who might otherwise have not agreed that several of their bugbears actually needed opposing. Now, there's a single enemy ideology that pervades all culture-war issues. It's all connected, you see. Something you thought was harmless? No! You see, that's just how they're going to infiltrate your mind! Your childrens' minds! Don't give them any ground at all!

Awareness of an issue was and still is basically the mildest thing to ask of someone else. As a call to action, "Stay Woke" is a pretty small request.

The crusaders make it out as though it's a battle-cry, a command - A decree that all aspects of all things must adhere to the most progressive, indeed, transgressive views, opinions and approaches on all subjects. That this is upending the previously established status quo just for the sake of upending it. And that this interpretation is the one adopted by all powerful entities in society - Government (especially including the education system), mainstream media, big businesses, etc. And that these entities have oppressive reasons in mind to force those beliefs on society. And that dissent against this woke "nonsense" is the objective truth in a world gone mad! It's an imperative to preserve your way of life!

And, uh. No.

Whatever world they're living in where that's actually happening is quite different from our reality, of course.

Honestly, though? It doesn't need to start out seeming like a big conspiracy - Even asking for honest awareness, in good faith, might be enough to infuriate non-crusaders. People don't often voluntarily to entertain the notion that things they do, things they've done, and things done in their name by others, that they continue to benefit from, are indeed "bad" actions.

Because that now feels like a personal attack against them. They're bad people for not pushing back against this. They must be considered complicit. How dare you think that of me!?!

And then, then the crusader-types just need to introduce the notion that this consideration being "demanded" of this otherwise passive group is the result of a slippery slope of this entire progressive, questioning mindset. Acknowledging any part of it means accepting all of the crusaders' hyperbolic claims about what that ideology actually means.

Through the magic of "Wokeness", it's all connected - It's all out to get you.

Where does it end? Didn't you see how they treated that one guy? Surely, he's no monster. If they can go after him for something so harmless, what's stopping them from coming after you next, for something that's probably even more innocuous?

Moral crusaders know the value of a good persecution complex.

It's not just asking you to be aware of how your presence in the world affects it. It's targeting you. Right?! That's surely the point of this is to find a guilty party and punish them! They're going to make you take the fall for this and directly suffer the punishment for it! You can't let that happen!

It's not even as explicit of a line of reasoning as this.

But either way, the moral panic is spreading and the crusaders are getting a bunch more people loudly on-board with their crusade.

They're banning books and calling for show cancellations under the whole banner of "woke ideology".

They're getting their press tours. Speaking with friendly talking-heads to puff themselves up, then going on with people unwilling to challenge their claims in the interest of fairness - And even if the commentators do push back, the crusaders will spin it as "the woke mainstream media trying to suppress our beliefs" and use that as a recruiting tool.

They're getting their politicians going on rants in city council meetings. During campaign rallies. In congressional/legislative sessions. In published opinion pieces.

In judicial rulings.

In enacted legislation.

The crusade continues. In many ways, it's as pervasive and successful as it's ever been.

It's not True Crime Podcasts that have been the subject of a moral panic this time around.

They must not be "woke" enough to bother with.

[supercutszns]

sweet on you | jason grace

wc + pairing: 1k, jason grace x f!reader

notes: short-ish jason blurb while i chalk up some of my beefier fics (& my 1k celebration thank u again)<3 this is my first time publishing for him so hopefully this isn't too ooc! i need to let myself write shorter stream of consciousness things,, all fluff, just jason taking your makeup off after a party <33 also its set at chb because i said so

Whenever Jason washes off your makeup, he acts like it's his sworn duty.

You’re a little hazy as he wets a cloth in the sink, repositioning himself between your legs that hang limply off the bathroom counter. You keep scanning his face for any trace of weariness or urgency. After a long day of camp duties, the last thing you think he’d want was to clean up his drunken girlfriend after a secret party. But he’s as kind and patient as ever, and you don’t know if it’s your heart or the alcohol talking, but you are deliriously in love with him right now. He’s a leader—a brave, powerful demigod—but he’s only that good because he’s gentle. That's what you see, anyway. Everyone loves him for a reason, but you're still sure you love him most.

You got drunk. You got anxious. But it’s more than worth it if Jason takes care of you after. Even under these fluorescent bathroom lights, he’s beautiful.

“Why thank you,” he says, a bemused smile on his face.

You blink. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Sure did.”

The scar on the corner of his lip lifts as he kisses your cheek. You hum pleasantly, and you feel the ghost of his laugh before he pulls away. “Close your eyes for me?”

You oblige. In seconds, you’re greeted with the warm press of a towel on your face. Jason keeps you in place with his hand cupping your chin. “Let me know if I poke your eyes, okay?”

“If you do I’ll just bite your finger.”

“Awesome.” He works on sweeping the cloth over your skin to drag off all that makeup. You wait patiently, happily, indulging in the occasional idle chatter and the steady brush of Jason’s thumb underneath your chin. Every pass of his fingers against your face lulls you further into your haze. He’s warm, methodical, sweet. He switches the cloth to a different side and drags up your cheekbones. Your brain is mush with alcohol and appreciation.

“‘M sorry I got carried away, Jace,” you mumble, head swaying involuntarily. “Didn’t need to come get me like this.”

His soft laugh swims in your ears, and he lowers himself a bit to see you better. “Trust me, I wasn’t doing much. The only notable thing this evening was crossing the hundred-page threshold in my book.”

“Is it good?” You slur, toying with his dog-tag necklace you’d gotten him for his birthday.

He tilts his head, “Eh. Alright. I still like taking care of you more, though.”

You must be beaming stupidly wide, because Jason shakes his head with a smile, and he wraps his arms around you to kiss your jaw. “Besides, you’re sweet on me when you’re drunk.”

The feel of his lips would have shut you up in any normal circumstance, but your idiotic thoughts only heighten. “Sweet on you?”

“Mmhm.”

“That’s a thing?”

“Yes! They … people say it.”

His cheeks flush red in that insanely adorable way, and he presses his face back into your neck. “They said it in my book,” he mumbles, and you laugh so hard he has to shush you.

He goes through the rest of your rather particular skincare routine as per your instructions. He’s seen you do it a thousand times, but you repeat the order anyways just to be sure—although it’s likely you’re jumbling up your words and taking too many pauses for any of it to come out coherent. He takes his time, focused intently on the planes and ridges of your skin. If you were any more sober you’d probably be self-conscious, but sometimes his thumb runs across your cheek with a tenderness that has nothing to do with your serums.

Once all’s said and done, your skin refreshed, you’re practically snoozing on the counter. “Sweetheart,” Jason hums, winding arms around you once more, “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Only if it’s with you,” you yawn, cheek smushing into his chest.

“Well, that’s a given.”

He’s smiling again as he runs his hands down to your thighs, so you can loop your legs around his hips. “Hold on, okay?”

You oblige, relishing in the curl of his biceps against your sides as he hoists you off the counter. Usually you’d be hesitant to let him carry you around with you clinging to him like this, but your capacity for embarrassment had vanished about two drinks ago. You hear him chuckling into your hair as the breeze tickles your face, although it's far less severe in his arms.

Camp’s practically deserted this time of night so Jason has no problem getting you into his cabin. He puts you down on his lonely bed in a sea of marble, lit with nothing but the warmth of his reading lamp. “Thank you, baby,” you murmur as he helps you out of your clothes and gives you a shirt of his own. The way he smells reminds you of morning mist as he ties your hair back.

Soon you’re in your favourite place in the world: drowned in blankets on a cool summer night in Jason’s bed. You’re nestled snug against his chest, letting the fog in your mind settle as he traces shapes on your back beneath your shirt. Transfixed by the ebb and flow of his breath, you can’t help but press your lips to his collarbone, lazy chapstick kisses spooling onto his skin.

“Y’re right,” you mumble, “I am sweet on you.”

Jason laughs quietly, setting down his book. He taps on your chin to draw you out of his chest, leading you to his mouth. You’re giggling and falling into him before you even kiss. He tastes like sweet mint as he cages you against him with his arms, nothing but gentle. “Love you,” you whisper with a plucky smile.

He kisses your forehead, “I love you.” He disposes of his glasses and turns off his lamp, sinking the both of you down onto the mattress. “Get some sleep, angel.”

You must be a lot better at following instructions than you thought, because you smother yourself in his warmth and you’re sure you’ve never slept better.

[bumbburger]

Shrink rays your Soap

GhostSoap crack, and fluff

Simon woke up to clattering in his kitchen.

He was a light sleeper through and through, even more so when he didn't have Soap huddled by his side.

The first thing he noticed, aside from the noise, was the lack of the smaller man's warmth cuddled into him. That simply wasn't right.

Soap would always huddle Simon well into the morning, until they both would have to begrudgingly arise. But there was no Soap, no running shower, no breakfast cooking. Something was not correct.

Simon grunted, using his palm to rub the sleep from his eyes. He moved his legs over the bed and heaved himself upright, on a mission to see what was causing the ruckus.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen, senses on high alert.

On the floor laid a broken, ceramic mug.

Even more alarmingly, next to the mess sat a little, kitten sized Scotsman.

What.

"Quit yer gawking and help me up you big bastard!" His voice remained gruff as ever, never faltering.

Simon blinked his eyes again, mostly from disbelief.

"...Soap?"

"Get me off this bloody floor already!" He reached his proportionately tiny hands up for Simon, wishing to be picked up.

Simon scooped him up easily in both hands, deftly gentle with the now bite-sized Soap.

"But you're so… small… smaller than before, even-"

"Oh how funny. As if I haven't noticed I'm the size of your shoe!" He huffed, crossing his arms, thoroughly frustrated.

"Alright, alright calm down you little muppet." Simon cooed. "What exactly happened when I woke up?" He ran his thumb over the tiny man's Mohawk, his thumb enough to smother his head entirely.

Soap sighed a bit at the touch.

"Well I was jus' getting ready to make some coffee and breakfast, ya know. Had the mug in hand and everything and suddenly, it was… like a sneeze. I went from totally average sized man to this-" He stammered out, clearly frustrated.

"Maybe it'll wear off…?" Simon offered.

Soap grit his teeth.

"I'm still hungry too, didn't even get my coffee… how messed up is that?"

"I can make you something but… how would you eat it? I can only cut up toast so much- " He gave Soap a sarcastically grin. "I can get the bottle we used for the kitten I suppose."

Soap stiffened, blue eyes glared up at Simon's brown ones.

"Do not use a fuckin' bottle on me, Simon."

Simon chuckled a bit, putting up his free hand defensively.

"Alright, don't come complaining to me when you can't eat nothing because you're the size of my palm." He carefully set Soap down on the table, confident the small man wouldn't just throw himself off of it on a whim. Hopefully.

Simon started scanning their cupboards and fridge for something he could reasonably give to his tiny companion.

He dug through the fridge and discovered a carton of strawberries he didn't remember buying, they were still fresh. He took one out, the smallest and reddest one, and brought it to the table. He set it down beside him, nearly half his size.

"That's… kinda large, don'tcha think?" Soap chided.

"I can cut it up a little, or blend it up. I dunno, maybe you'll have to have baby food-"

"Just cut it up you big brute."

Simon let out an amused huff before grabbing the strawberry again, and unsheathing a paring knife from their knife block, he cut the berry as little and coherently as he could. The berry holds up well for being sliced so small, not reducing to mush under the blade. Simon cuts up the whole thing and places it on a small saucer, returning it back to the occupied table.

Soap stood up, looking approvingly at the pieces of berry.

Simon turned back around to make himself coffee. Normally, he'd like tea this early in the morning but for Soap, he'd bear through.

The coffee brewed slowly, filling the kitchen with the scent. Once finished, he took the mug in his hand and sat down at the table.

He found that Soap made pretty good progress on the strawberry, a few pieces still scattered on the plate. He was a bit amazed that he had gotten that far, really.

Simon took a little spoon, one he'd often use for his tea and dipped it into his mug, filling it with coffee before setting it down on the table by Soap. A peace offering, of sorts.

Soap looked up at him, still chewing with his cheeks full.

"I'm s'posed to lap it up like a dog, then?"

Simon took a sip from his mug.

"I could get the bottle if you'd like."

"You're a mean man, Simon."

"Maybe don't get shrunk next time" He shrugged.

He watched as Soap bent down to drink some of the coffee from the spoon. Simon found himself wondering how beneficial a strawberry and coffee are as a full breakfast. He'd try and make up for it with lunch.

Soap sat back now, arms splayed behind him, propping himself up. Simon swears he hears the littlest hiccup from him.

"Full? From a berry and some coffee-" Simon smiled from behind his mug.

"It was… a big strawberry. Shut your gob" He huffed indignantly.

Another chuckle from Simon.

"What am I to do with you?" He brought his index finger over the table to poke Soap's chest affectionately.

Another huff from Soap.

"I wanna go back to bed… wake up and be normal again…" He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Simon pursed his lips in silent contemplation. He gazed at the microwave clock, reading 9:27 AM. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to go back to bed for a while.

"Am I to put you in my pocket and crawl back into bed?" He looked down at Soap.

"Oh definitely-" There was no sarcasm in his voice. He really did want to fall asleep in Simon's pocket.

"I guess I can keep you in there while I get some work done, then. That way I can be sure you aren't getting into trouble." Simon glanced at him.

"Aye, kinda always wanted to get wrapped up in your hoodie and take a nap… usually it involved different circumstances, though." He yawned dramatically and stretched his arms above his head, bringing one hand down to scratch his tummy under his shirt. He was putting on a little display, and Simon took his cue.

Gently, he brought a large hand to wrap around Soap's chest under his arms, careful not to squeeze him. He lifted him up and opened the front of his jacket pocket to place him in it. He looked down, making sure he was secure and finally allowed himself to stand. He decided he'd lay on the couch and do some relaying with Price about a mission in the works. His pocket was quiet and warm, a little fuzzy Mohawk sticking out from time to time. There was a rise and fall independent of Simon's own breathing, it made him feel comfortable.

He opened his laptop and worked quietly for a few hours, his tiny Soap never returning to his normal size in that time. It was going to be a long day.

[tigerspite]

Would you believe me if I said I re-wrote this from scratch four times?

Anyway. Hopefully this gives a bit of context to the previous chapter. Remember that this is all being written out of order.

Read the rest of The Devil's Claw here

Next chapter

-

CHAPTER ?? / The Captive

Under blue pre-dawn light, a human staggers across a beach on the southern coast of England. His clothes are ragged and torn, hanging from his body after soaking up sea water, and his dark blonde hair is plastered to his head. He makes it no further than twenty paces up the sandy slope towards the cliffs before collapsing, crawling towards the shelter of a rock and slumping against it.

"He is already dead. This is a waste of our time," Varzis hisses, her glare ferocious. "Solkis has no use for specimens like this."

Wethraks lurks behind an outcrop with the rest of the crew, fixed on the unmoving body. So few humans remain around the steep and rugged cliff edges of the coast, with almost all viable land destroyed by dramatically increased sea levels and the natural disasters surrounding Earth's Collapse. His patrol ventured so far in search of any surviving colonies and securing the area, but the man is the first he has seen in days. A dim flicker in the back of his mind suspects he is a distraction, a decoy to start an ambush on his crew, but their scouting Shanks and Servitors are silent.

The human clinging to the boulder before them is utterly and completely alone.

"There is nothing of worth in a half-drowned human." she continues, turning away as if she cannot stand to look at him any longer.

""Humans don't come out of the sea," he counters. "Solkis will want to study him, even if he releases him afterwards. There has to be a reason why he's here."

Chuffing sharply at his rebuttal, she shoves a set of chains and cuffs into his hands. "Then he is your burden alone. Some of us have better things to attend, and a city to go home to."

He flexes his mandibles in protest, but Varzis stalks away before he can make a more coherent argument. The members of the crew who do not yet understand that he is the one in command, not her, follow with haste. Having authority over her while he is a Vandal, and she is a Captain who saw him freshly docked and joining her crew on Sepiks-Fel, is not an adjustment she accepts.

With an aggrieved sigh, Wethraks rises to his full height and slinks from his hiding place. Cautious, he circles from several feet away, scanning for concealed weapons or wounds on the human that might aggravate if he touches the wrong place. Provoking him into a fight when he has no backup is certain doom. Adult males particularly tend to resist capture, especially when alone, and Solkis's trappers have plenty of scars and stories between them to prove why they recommend specific care be taken.

While caked in sand and salt and draped across a boulder, however, he appears harmless enough.

Alerted to movement, the man stirs and lifts his head. Eyes cloudy with exhaustion, he stares without registering what is in front of him. Before he is able to spend any more time processing, however, Wethraks steps behind him and closes in to take his arms.

Mercifully, he does not resist the shackles. But the dead weight of one limb, colder than the rest of his body, steals his focus away. Rolling the cuff of his sweater sleeve up, he a wrist made entirely of metal. Through the rips in the fabric, steel plates shift over each other as he pulls his arm around to restrain him fully. It looks like a prosthetic limb - one at odds with post-Collapse human manufacturing, and unusually elaborate to be of Eliksni make. Dozens of wires and servos within work together to produce the most subtle movements, indistinguishable from a real limb, and he cannot help but feel along his back to find the seam where metal meets flesh around his shoulder.

For a moment, he wonders if he is one of the mechanical humanoids that are occasionally found in the wilds given flesh and bone, a monstrous experiment never meant to see the light of day. Casting him out to sea to be forgotten would ensure that nobody learned of what happened, but they must not have accounted for whether the tides would carry him ashore. Through that, he feels a pang of sympathy for the man. Solkis's anthropologists would be over him like flies, regardless, elated at the opportunity to investigate someone so unusual. They would take better care than whoever had him before.

Confident that he is secure and too exhausted to fight back, Wethraks takes the chain trailing off of the handcuffs and drags him from the rock, pulling him up the path towards the cliff face. His captive slides through the sand without resistance, weighing nothing compared to others he has taken. As concerning as it is, he finds he is thankful. A pliable, co-operative human is more accepting of their fate and more willing to be left sedated in a cell than someone who comprehends what is happening to them. Even if the agreeableness comes from a dangerous lack of energy.

It takes a few minutes until he reaches the top of the cliff, where the anchored convoy of Skiffs rests. At their edge, Varzis narrows her eyes to see him and chatters her mandibles in distaste. She heaves herself away from the ship she rests against with a growl, personally inconvenienced by his brief detour but already moving to the loading ramp.

"Wait there. We'll have to re-distribute the salvage to accommodate your prize." she calls, bobbling her head before disappearing into the circle of ships to unload.

Wethraks chitters back in return, choosing to ignore her vitriol and pulling his human to where a set of storage crates have been stacked. Propping him up to sit against it and lifting the crate to put the end of the chain underneath, he hums at the paleness to his skin. Cold like ice. Without intervention that he does not have access to, and although the Skiff is warm, he senses he may not survive the journey home unless extra care is taken.

Unbuckling his cloak, he settles it over the man and tucks it in around his body. The action rouses him, blinking up at his captor in a daze, and the recognition of his situation takes a few seconds to register. His breath catches and he jerks back, the metal limb twisting to try and pry free of his bindings.

"Stop, stop stop stop!" Wethraks trills, putting all four hands out to steady him. Careful to avoid touching him directly, he keeps him corralled against the box. "I am not going to hurt you!"

Breathing heavy and eyes wild, the fear scent emanating from him is palpable. There is no way it can be his first encounter with Eliksni, but Wethraks senses that it may be the first time he has heard one speak his language. That often shocks and disorients the other captives the most.

He crouches down to his level to seem as non-threatening as possible. "So- um, hello," He gives an awkward little wave with an upper hand and offers a smile. "I have to let you know that you've been captured for being on House Devils territory. You'll be safe, but my Captain is taking us back to London with you as our prisoner."

The human blinks hard again, staring for a heartbeat too long in the wake of his introduction. That, or he is attempting to work out whether anything in front of him is real or a delusion. He glances around, brow furrowed while he searches to make sense of any of his surroundings.

"My name is Wethraks, Vandal of House Devils," He leans over, back into his line of sight and blocking out anything that could confuse him further. "I need to ask you a few questions, unless you have any for me first?"

The man sighs, and a voice rough from saltwater and disuse comes out of him. “What do you want from me?"

“I'm afraid it's not really my business, my Baron makes those decisions," Wethraks shakes his head. "But we will take care of you, he may want to see you personally. He's friendly."

His affirmations receive nothing more than a grunt and another bout of broken eye contact. He shifts where he sits, wincing in protest of the movement, but offers nothing further to say.

Wethraks waits until he is done and settled, watching him expectantly. "Are you hurt?"

The response is short and immediate. "No."

"Okay," he trails off, and tilts his head. "Can I ask for your name?"

"Yami."

"Do you know how you got here?"

Silence. A mistrustful, sideways look.

"Do you know where you are, or where you were before this?"

No answer.

Wethraks understands then that it is going to be a very, very long trip back to London.

[chateautae]

flirt | pjm. (m)

➵ summary :  park jimin is a notorious flirt, but so are you. when you both meet at a party after weeks of back and forth, it’s a matter of time before somebody gives in

➵ pairing : jimin x reader

➵ genre :  college!au, sexual tension, smut, pwp

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 4k

➵ warnings : super suggestive flirting, alcohol consumption (both parties able to consent), swearing, light dom and sub themes, soft dom!jimin, brat!reader, little bit of brat-handling, dirty talk, praising but also degradation? it’s hot i promise, use of slut, slight body worshipping, mentions of oral, jimin is hot and yes that’s a warning in itself, breast play, unprotected sex, penetrative + rough sex, bit of angsty sex, creampie cause i seem to not like it any other way

➵ a/n : and my first jimin fic is here!! dear god i love this boy to the moon and back so i got a bit carried with him lmao, hopefully this isn’t terrible cause i still need to edit it but your support and feedback are always appreciated!! <3

2 hours.

2 hours since you first came to this party. You’ve bumped into at least a hundred people, danced your legs numb, God knew how many and what concoction of drinks were inebriating your system and still, you hadn’t seen Park Jimin the whole night. 

The only reason you even dragged yourself to this party was because of him. You were initially bailing on the annual ‘one-last-hurrah-before-midterms’ party because you, like everyone else here had midterms haunting them Monday. It was Friday night and as the ever diligent student, you were planning to study over the weekend.

Though your nagging best friend Hoseok had other plans, threatening you to come with every piece of dirt he had on you until he finally sprinkled Jimin’s name into the mix. You couldn’t lie, it was the only reason you decided to hell with your education, wiggled into a barely-there dress and waltzed in with Hoseok ready to take the night on.

But when you hadn’t seen Jimin at all, you were left annoyed, pissed off and with a headache raking your brain.

Seeing him was a selfish desire, one you’d develop after realizing you had met your match when you first encountered Jimin. You were always fairly notorious for your flirtatious habits and touchiness, a sort of trademark of yours and the same was always said about a ‘Park Jimin’ unknown to you, sometimes described to be an even bigger flirt.

It automatically intrigued you, curious of what kind of rival you secretly harbored until one day, you chanced upon Hoseok who just so happened to be with Jimin. 

At first, you didn't think Jimin could be a daring flirt. He had this sweet smile and disciplined way of speaking that screamed innocent to you, his mannerisms and demeanor shy and introverted. He didn’t make big moves and so you wrote him off as just that. 

But it wasn’t until you started seeing him outside your class’ building, alone, and multiple times after that, enough for you to realize he was anything but shy or innocent.

You ended up observing that a) he was sex on legs, b) easily flipped between the persona of an angel and a demon and c) anything he did could seem flirting. 

You two hit it off without a hitch, your flirtatious tendencies meeting to form a relationship of mutual interest. It was clear as day, both your actions almost always held some sort of unknown intentions behind them, your every saying a double meaning. 

It became the norm between you two, anytime you met turning into a conversation riddled with innuendos, suggestive lip-biting or eyes that couldn’t help but wander. And you weren't stupid, you could tell he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You two were dangerous, testing the limits of either’s control, hoping someone would give in and only left disappointed when nobody did. 

So when Hoseok mentioned this party, and graciously added Park Jimin’s name to it, you knew this was your chance. A party with buzzing bodies, loud music and copious amounts of alcohol was bound to set him off, especially if you were dressed scandalously and felt bolder with liquid courage pumping through your system.  

But it’d been 2 hours, and you hadn’t seen him all night. You were taking another shot in the kitchen, sulking by yourself and reflecting on the fact that you’d been duped by Hoseok. This party became useless to you, a mere waste of your time as you quickly discarded your cup and began stomping out of the kitchen.

You ventured further into the house to look for Hoseok’s 5’10 ass, tell him he’s the worst best friend for lying to you and that you were leaving this disappointment of a party.

You stepped around people mindfully, dodging them until you rammed smack dab into someone’s back, scrambling for an apology before looking at the unaffected victim.

Park fucking Jimin.

“Y/N!” Jimin beamed, holding a drink in his hand as he smiled widely.

“Jimin, hey! I thought you didn’t come tonight.” You attempted biting back your smile from finally finding him, shouting over the bass of the music as you met him on the dance floor.

“I just ran late. You know me, of course I’d be here!” Jimin raised his drink to his plump lips and sipped, stepping side-to-side in rhythm with the music. 

You couldn’t make him out that well, the disco lights of whatever lights system the only means of seeing him in the dark, but you swear the smirky grin on his face as he scanned you over wasn’t just a figment of your imagination, ecstatic that you already seemed to be reeling him in. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, I already had-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as someone’s raging body stumbled into yours suddenly, sending you off balance until Jimin reached out for you cautiously.

“Woah, easy there.” Jimin’s arms quickly held you, flashing a scolding look at the person who bumped into you and pulling you towards himself. “Are you here with someone tonight?”

“Yeah, Hoseok! I was looking for him.”

“Why’s that?”

“I.. wasn’t having fun, so I wanted to leave with him.” You swiftly masked the real truth, your voice becoming less of a shout as Jimin encased you, just a few centimeters between your bodies as you peered up at him, cheeks flushed with heat and alcohol.

“Leave with him? Damn, didn’t know you two were like that.” Jimin flashed you a suggestive look, raising his eyebrows.

“Shut up, you know we’re just best friends.” You both erupted into a fit of chuckles as you hit his chest, your hand smacking against his jacket and now that you were close, registered what a meal he looked like tonight; ripped black jeans, plain white t-shirt underneath a distressed jean jacket, all pulled together sexily by his tousled hair, small hoop earrings and a Chanel necklace decorating his neck.

Dear God, how many times you’ve ached to kiss that pretty, pretty neck.

You internally groaned, habitually drawing closer to him as you enjoyed the warmth of his body, nostrils filling with the familiar scent of his intoxicating cologne.

“So I hear you wanna have some fun.” Jimin perked up, eyes amused and hands smoothing over your sides slowly after faltering from your arms.

“Are you suggesting I’ll have fun with you?”

“Of course, gorgeous, but up to you how we do that.” Jimin stepped dangerously closer to you as his voice lowered, your face tucked into his chest as his body blocked other people from touching you.

Excitement shot to your center at his use of a pet name, a common occurrence during your exchanges though his choices of which always an added thrill. 

“And what if I just want to leave and eat at a diner instead?”

“Then I’d definitely take you, food and you? A win in my book.”

You cocked an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Adding me to the mix suddenly makes it a win? I’m not the one on the menu, Park.” 

Jimin’s eyes seem to blow out, leaning down as his plushy lips ghosted your ear as he spoke, tone darkened, “We can change that, princess.”

A thrill shot throughout your body, hyper aware of his lips mere inches from your face as your heart began to race, turning towards him expectantly.

You began advancing slowly to decrease the gap between your mouths, feeling him inch forward in response, letting him hover just above your lips for a tease before you stopped, “I’d like to see you try, Park.”

Then you abruptly turned out of his hold and walked away, making it through a few people into a hallway, allowing yourself to breathe. You loved teasing Jimin, it was an incredibly entertaining pass time but dear God, did it knock the fucking wind out of you. 

You were mentally recuperating from the fact that he almost let you kiss him, distracted as you stepped away until someone suddenly snatched your arm and pinned you against the nearest wall. You were honestly shocked to see Jimin, surprised he actually took your bait and stayed on your trail to stop you. His dancing eyes held nothing but greed, evident even in the darkness of the party.

“You know just how to test people, don’t you?” Jimin warned as he narrowed his dangerous eyes at you, holding your hot-skinned wrists against the cool wall. 

“Of course I do, it makes things fun and last time I checked,”  You brought your face to his and left only an inch between you two, “that’s just what I want.”

Jimin visibly grew less tamed, glancing down towards your lips as he tried breathing controllably, “Careful what you wish for, princess. It might come true.” 

“And if that’s what I want?” You titled your head expectantly, licking your lips as you watched Jimin bite his own. He eyed you the whole time, making it a statement to drink you in every inch of you. 

You could smell the alcohol on him, assuming liquor was the only driving force behind his actions but then contemplated his level-headedness, his coherent speech and clear judgment in this moment.

Jimin was choosing to chase after you, choosing to not let you go after weeks of incessant back and fourth and you knew you were finally getting closer to exactly what you wanted. 

Park Jimin giving in. 

“You’re fucking hot.” Jimin commented, eyes eating you up hungrily.

“You’re hotter.” You grinned and leaned back against the wall, cleavage unintentionally popping out for him and Jimin’s look immediately shifted, bringing his body closer against yours.

“You look submissive as hell right now, is that what you like? To be dominated?”

“Only if you like to dominate.” 

Jimin could feel the reigns on his control snapping, biting down to contain his raw desire to fuck you. He’s been holding himself back, knowing you seemed willing on your end of the interactions but never wanting to take the leap in case it was all just an act. 

But as he watched you go along with his every comment, staring back at him with the same devious eyes and practically offering yourself to him in his hold, he knew you weren’t acting at all. 

“You talk a big game, but can you put your money where your mouth is?” Jimin leaned his hips against yours, ensuring you could feel his growing hardness. 

“My mouth can do a lot of fucking things, Park.” You jutted your hips into his.

Jimin shut his eyes frustratedly before he re-opened them, a downright obsidian colour taking them over.

“Go the fuck upstairs.” 

“Wh-”

“I said, go the fuck upstairs.” Jimin demanded, looking at you with conviction so searing you in fact did become submissive. 

“W-which room-” You didn’t complete your question as Jimin’s deft hands encased you and lifted you off the ground, bridal-style.

“Jimin-!” You exclaimed.

“Say another word and I’ll make sure you feel me in your throat.” 

You immediately swallowed your mouth shut as Jimin cluthed you to him, core alighting with desire as he carried you up the stairs. Jimin arrived at the second floor and rushed towards the first room with an ajar door, shutting it with your feet after entering.

He made towards the bed and practically threw you onto it, stepping away to lock the door before leaning against it, arms crossed and serious. 

“You sure you want this?” His voice came out considerate, no haste or pressure.

“Yes, Jimin.” 

“You’re completely sure?” 

You nodded incessantly. 

“I need your words, Y/N.”

“Yes.” You affirmed, unintentionally becoming submissive as you awaited him, and Jimin couldn't resist you, not any longer. He made towards your smaller figure on the bed and immediately crashed his lips onto yours, knee sinking into the mattress as he leaned over you, splaying you onto the bed.  

He held your wrists against the sheets, kissing you open as his plump lips worked tirelessly against your mouth. He continued to swallow you, opening up to catch all of you as he sank further downwards to feel your body arch into his.

His wet tongue glided over your lips and you welcomed him in lightspeed, letting his muscle entangle with yours hastily and you instantly loved the taste of him. 

Jimin’s kisses began deepening, exploring your mouth like he was dehydrated and your mouth was fresh water. His thigh began pressing against your core and you moaned into his mouth as Jimin disconnected from you, panting for air. 

“Don’t fucking do that.” He voiced frustratedly, his full lips swollen and pink as he tried to contain himself. 

“Do what?” 

“Fucking moan, it does shit to me.” 

“Sucks for you, I’m responsive as fuck.” You snipped as his sudden confession made you hot, squishing your thighs together. Jimin took notice and he flashed a look at your core. 

“Responsive, huh?” Jimin let go of your wrist, sliding his hand down your body before pressing his fingers to your heat through your dress. You instantly gasped, arching as you felt your walls clench around absolutely nothing. 

“J-Jimin.” you warned him weakly. 

“Mm?” Jimin paid no attention as he lowered himself to your neck and began kissing, tonguing, sucking at a spot that had you cowering and squirming underneath him. 

You groaned as your free hand tangled into his hair, hugging him to your neck as you basked in the glory of his plush lips devouring you. He was laving and nibbling at your skin, continuously kissing the area of your carotid all while rubbing his hand against your clothed cunt. Jimin began rutting his body against yours, the tip of his cock prodding you the more he moved.

“Fuck you, Jimin. This isn’t fair.” You moaned breathlessly

“As fair as it gets, princess. You wanted to see my try, yeah?” Jimin suddenly stopped his movements on your core and slid his hand up your bare thigh, only to shift your stained panties to the side and glide his fingers all over your bare pussy. You gasped Jimin’s name and tugged at his hair harshly, the alcohol hazing everything over with sensitivity and trying to sustain the sheer amount of pleasure he was rewarding you.

“N-nothing’s fair about this.”

Jimin smoothed the pads of his fingers over your slick core, eliciting your incessant gasps, “Fuck with my ego and I fuck with you, baby.” 

He was leaving purple marks all along your neck and chest, moving down to the valley of your breasts and you whined headily, hating that he had such an advantage in this position. 

You immediately grew bold enough to push him off by his chest, detaching him as Jimin looked at you confused. “Y/N, what the fu-” was all Jimin could get out before you stood up and gripped his cock through his pants, his breath immediately hitching. He looked at you with surprised eyes, growing weaker in your hold as you walked him back against a vanity in the room.

You had no clue who this room belonged to, but you could care less when you were minutes away from getting fucked by Park Jimin.

He let out breathy little moans as you palmed him, shutting his eyes in bliss as he turned harder by the second, leaning back against the counter. You planted your lips to his neck and mouthed fervently, making sure you embellished his skin with your desire for him. “F-fuck. Y/N, this isn’t fair.”

“Fuck with my ego and I fuck with you, baby.” You mocked him and began rubbing at his shaft, sucking hickies onto his pretty neck and licking over the areas your teeth grazed. Jimin continued groaning, hugging you close to him as he fisted his hands against your body, trying everything to cherish the pleasure he felt. 

The person he’s been desiring ever since he heard about you, his every nerve thrilled by your ability to counter him, match his energy of constant flirting and testing the waters, venturing further than him sometimes.

You were just so tempting and Jimin wanted every last bit of you. 

That sentiment increased when he felt your hands snake towards the belt of his jeans, unbuckling harshly with need so apparent he wanted nothing but to stuff your walls, now. 

“No, fuck off, getting inside you first.” Jimin denied your hands, capturing them in his hold.

You instantly whined, “But Jimin, want you to fuck my face.” You pouted into his neck, kissing along his collar bones as you rutted against him. 

“Fucking God, I’m destroying you for that.” Jimin wrapped you up in his arms and switched the positions, shoving you against the vanity, your ass on the edge of the counter as Jimin stood in between your spread out legs, lips meeting yours again. 

Jimin lifted the skirt of your dress up and over your backside, pooling around your waist as his hands slid over your fleshy thighs to the band of your panties. He pulled only to snap them back against your skin, the contact making you gasp.

“Why the fuck are you still wearing these?”

“And why the fuck are you still wearing clothes?” You chastised, hands greedily shoving his jacket off him even with your mouth attached to his.

Jimin didn’t allow the action to compromise your kiss either, practically ripping his jacket off and breathing hard against you as he threw it away. He then pulled his t-shirt over himself, revealing his toned, lean body underneath and only leaving his Chanel necklace hanging over his bare chest. You licked your lips at the sight of his smooth and pretty body, the outline of his abs like a work of art.

You reached out to touch him, his face and skin flushed with lust as he watched you. “You’re so hot, Jimin, so pretty.” You praised, eyes ogling him.

Jimin smirked proudly before speaking, “Your turn.”

He searched for the zipper of your dress and unzipped hastily, peeling away the top to reveal your naked breasts and now it was his turn to ogle at you.

“Fuck me, you’re prettier.” He huffed out, eyes blown out entirely.

“Probably not as pretty as your cock, let me suck.” You pouted playfully and pulled him closer to you with the back of your shins, hands greedily feeling up his bare chest.

“Only good girls get to suck my dick.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, you’re a fucking brat and a half.” Jimin started kneading your breasts, licking his lips as he watched you spread your legs wider for him and lean your head back out of pure bliss.

“I am not a brat, you just fucking take 10 years to get it on.” You snapped back, moaning in between at the way he groped your breasts, rolling the buds of your nipples with his fingertips.

“Sorry I was a fucking gentleman, didn’t know you were such a cock-hungry slut.” Jimin bit as he planted his thick lips to your perched nipple, eliciting curses from you as his tongue began swirling around, sucking teasingly.

“You just can’t fuck, isn’t it? All bark and no bite?”

Jimin scoffed darkly at that, sucking harder on your sensitive nipples before letting go with a pop. “I’ll fucking break you is why I kept holding off, you’ll regret this, princess.”

“Break me then, Jimin, please. Fuck me like you say you will, I need you.” Your arousal became unbearable as you grew hornier, rocking your hips against him for friction while he laved at either of your nipples.

“I will, baby. Get these off and I’ll fuck you so good.” Jimin tugged at your panties and you lifted your ass for him to discard them.

You unhooked Jimin’s belt and shoved into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans down until you finally freed his leaking length, thick and throbbing to be treated.

What you always thought was right, his cock was pretty just like him. You graciously pumped him, spreading his pre-cum over the head as you watched him lean his head back, kissing under his jaw.

“So pretty, Jimin, just like you.”

Jimin stopped caring about any and everything and instantly grabbed one of your legs, spreading you wide open for him and situated himself before your entrance.

He brought a hand over yours pumping his member and moved you quicker against his hot flesh, looking down at the lewd scene and your pretty pussy aching for him.

“Look at you soaking, baby, so much prettier.” 

You moaned needily, the back of your shins urging Jimin closer to you again as you whined. “Jimin..”

“Raw?” he breathed impatiently. 

“Fuck yes, birth control.”

Jimin didn’t even take a millisecond before he was pushing against your hole, placing the hand that was pumping his member now against your pelvic bone, pressing down to feel himself sink inside of you.

You instantly careened, moaning out so loud that if there wasn’t music blaring in the house, everyone would know how stuffed Jimin made you feel.

“Fuck-Jimin! Stop doing that, it feels too fucking good..!” You nearly cried, the pressure of Jimin’s hand making you feel any and every ridge, vein and hardness of his thick cock, your walls drinking him in.

“Fuck you, this is what you get.” Jimin blurted as he buried himself to the hilt, groaning satisfyingly at your warm walls hugging him before plunging to make out with you.

Jimin began fucking you with conviction, determination to drive you insane for him as he spread you open. He thrusted fast and hard from the get-go, neglecting to set a pace knowing how much of a cock-loving brat you were. His thumb resting just above your clit dipped down to lightly play with your bud, tease it, all the while licking into your mouth and thrusting into you.

You gasped hard, so much that Jimin’s name was the only thing coherent within them and he swallowed all your sounds with his lips. Your body was on fire at the drag of his cock, shocked at how wet you were when he hadn’t even fingered or eaten you out, his cock doing all the work, leaving you only thinking of Park Jimin’s sheer power.

You wanted all of him so badly, wanted him to ruin you, destroy you like he said he would, fuck you open like he always insinuated he would.

“Jimin, please, harder! Fuck me like the brat I am, teach me a fucking lesson.”

“Princess likes it hard, huh? Want me to fuck this pussy up? Make it all mine?” Jimin’s words were so filthy they had you clutching onto him tightly, arousal gushing from you as Jimin impaled you harder, snapping into you.

His thumb continued its onslaught, your walls convulsing to his every stroke as you gripped his shoulders and kissed him, biting his plushy bottom lip as he fucked you harder.

“Mm, Jimin, fuck!” Your tits bounced as he pounded into you, taking his every thrust like a champ and he damn well shook the entire vanity, continuously drilling your hole as he gave no room for mercy. Your hands snaked into his hair and tugged, making him groan in approval and he only pushed you open wider in response.

“You pretty brat, look at you getting what you want. Fucked like the cock-loving princess you are.” Jimin breathed against your mouth, his skin slicking with sweat as he worked tirelessly against your opening, battering your pussy with an unforgiving speed.

“You would’ve gotten your dick sucked, but apparently-” you shuddered breathily, “I w-wasn’t a good girl.” You felt weak from his repeated onslaught, the bubbling pleasure in your gut keeping you going. 

“Yeah, so fucking behave and maybe I’ll let you choke on my dick.”

“Y-you stop playing games and maybe I’ll let you eat my pussy.”

Jimin only ticked his head to the side as he chuckled darkly, starting to propel his thick cock into your gut and raging at your clit so roughly, you gasped as you carved your pleasure into his skin. Jimin did the same as he bore his fingers into you, a hand squeezing your thigh harshly as he held your leg and your walls fluttered around him, moans growing higher in pitch.

“Jimin! I’m gonna-“ you didn’t even complete your sentence as your walls clamped around him, orgasm washing over you so quickly you barely realized it came. You clenched him like a vice and panted hard against his mouth, Jimin finally coming undone as well, spurts of cum painting your insides and filling you to the brim, certain he’d leak out of you for hours.

You felt stuffed, so full of him you were hazed over with post-orgasm bliss, mind unwinding from any trifling matter on Earth. Your forehead slacked against his shoulder as you both panted for air, sweating as Jimin held your weak body in his arms.

His cock remained shoved inside you, the throbbing letting up on both of you as your highs settled down.

“You..” Jimin swallowed dryly, breathing. “took me like a good girl. Maybe you can suck me off next time.”

“Next time?” You breathed labourly, turning your face towards his.

Jimin peered down at you resting against him, biting back a grin. “Of course, there’s always a next time with flirts like us.”

[accioxreparo]

entranced | f.w.

synopsis: Fred finds himself taking a different approach to get your attention. Little does he know he already has it. 

pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

warnings: none!

a/n: This idea is straight from the discord chat earlier with my babes! This concept is honestly so amazing and completely inspired by @levylovegood​ and also this picture so hopefully I did it justice 😭💖

The Gryffindor table was uncharacteristically silent as Fred Weasley approached late for breakfast. That was typical though. More often than not he was rushing in right before classes started and just as quickly rushing back out.

What was unusual though, and the source of everybody’s shock, was the pair of glasses framing his face. Glasses he didn’t need. Glasses nobody was sure even belonged to him.

“What?” Fred barely acknowledged them as he started putting food on his plate. “What’s with the staring?”

“What’s with -” Ginny let out a heavy sigh as she shared a glance with her siblings, every one of which was just as confused as she was. “What are you wearing those for?”

“Wearing what for?”

“Those obviously!” George reached across the table and flicked the frame of the glasses, skewing them sideways on Fred’s face. He ducked out of the way before he could retaliate. “Didn’t even know you owned any glasses.”

“Well I do,” Fred answered easily. Now that he was looking up he couldn’t help himself. His eyes scanned the Great Hall until he found you hunched over a book and scribbling something on some parchment.

“Well yeah but what for?” Ron frowned through a mouthful of food.

“To see, Ronniekins,” Fred looked away from you quickly when you glanced up abruptly, almost immediately looking right at him. “That’s what most people use them for.”

“Yeah but that’s not what you need them for,” Ron was oblivious to the fact that Fred wasn’t paying him any attention. His gaze had gone back to you the second you went back to your reading. “Think one of us would’ve noticed if you really needed them.”

“Spill it,” Ginny leaned forward while narrowing her eyes. “I can almost guarantee you didn’t own those before last night. Now why do you need them?”

“Need what?”

A groan resounded between the three siblings, each of them coming to the realization that Fred was paying absolutely zero attention to their conversation.

“Okay new question,” George kicked Fred underneath the table, forcing him to look their way again. “What’s got you so -”

But before he could get the question all the way out Fred threw back his goblet of pumpkin juice and practically tripped over himself getting up from the table. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Well that was something.” Ron shook his head, staring at the empty spot his brother had just left.

Ginny nodded towards the entrance of the Great Hall where Fred had stopped, apparently finding one of the suits of armor very interesting. “Look at that.”

“Makes sense now,” George only shook his head as the three of them watched Fred wait a few seconds after you had left the Great Hall to follow you. “McGonagall changed our seats in Transfiguration the other day and since then our dear Freddie’s been infatuated with none other than Y/N Y/L/N. Has a perfect view of her from where he sits now.”

“You’re kidding,” Ron couldn’t help but scoff at the revelation. “She’s top of her class, always in the library. There’s no way she’d even give Fred the time of day.”

“Maybe that’s why he likes her,” Ginny shrugged, going back to her own breakfast. “Or why he’s intrigued at the very least.”

George hummed before a smirk flashed on his face, leaning in towards his younger siblings a little more. “Place your bets, kids. Do we think Fred’s little glasses plan is going to work or not?”

*

You tried your hardest not to stare, you really did.

Of course you’d noticed Fred Weasley of all people hanging around you for the past week or so, who wouldn’t? The fact that he happened to go out of his way a little to talk to you meant absolutely nothing at all though, you’d convinced yourself of that. Especially not when you knew you’d stuttered through practically every conversation you’d had with him so far.

Finally you thought maybe, just maybe, you were getting somewhere. Maybe you could work up the courage to say more than a few words to him next time you spoke. But then you caught sight of the glasses sitting comfortably on the bridge of Fred’s nose. They framed his face perfectly and it really wasn’t fair how they somehow made his eyes shine more than they usually did.

Any kind of coherent thought you were able to form left your brain when you laid eyes on him from across the classroom.

This really wasn’t you. You were smart, you knew that for a fact. Sure you mostly kept to yourself but there wasn’t a single time you hadn’t been able to think of a quick comeback, even if it was only muttered to yourself underneath your breath. That was how all of this had started after all.

He’d overheard a particularly hilarious quip during Potions one day and his burst of laughter had earned him a detention. He had promised you he didn’t mind when you fumbled your way through a quick apology the next day.

Now, though, you were speechless at the mere sight of him because how was it possible for one human to look that good? It didn’t help that you quite literally had the perfect view of him from across the transfiguration room. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed him in his glasses before. Had he even worn them before?

Just as you were about to search your memories for any kind of recollection of Fred and his glasses you were interrupted. It was then you realized that you were openly staring at him, and apparently not very subtly.

“Would you like to tell the class what it is you find so interesting, Miss Y/L/N?”

You weren’t sure how long Professor McGonagall had been standing there or what answer she expected of you. Before you could say anything she turned around and took a few steps, effectively blocking your site of the very person you’d been distracted by.

“What about you, Mr. Weasley? You seem to be just as distracted.”

Fred, for once, seemed to also be at a loss for words. He’d barely managed to blink owlishly and start with the beginning of an excuse before he was shushed again. McGonagall looked between the two of you for a moment before pursing her lips. “Detention tonight, both of you.”

Frankly, you were too scared to argue. So instead you turned back towards the very thing that had been the cause of your distraction only to find him already looking at you. You could feel the heat rush to your face when Fred offered you a smile as he pushed the glasses up his face a little and mouthed, this should be fun.

*

Much to your surprise, you were in fact not the first one to reach the transfiguration room at exactly seven o’clock that night. Fred pushed himself off the wall immediately upon seeing you walking his way, a look on his face you couldn’t quite read.

“And here I was thinking you were going to ditch me.”

“I think,” You gulped as you looked anywhere but at him. He was still wearing his glasses and you were positive you’d get distracted again if you looked at him for too long. “I think I’d just get another detention if I did that.”

Fred, on the other hand, was looking right at you with a small smile playing on his lips. This detention was more than worth it in his eyes, especially if it meant getting to spend an hour alone with you. Well almost alone anyway. You were fidgeting a little too much though, something he noticed rather easily. “Is this your first one?”

“First what?”

“Detention.”

You frowned then, stopping your nervous movements and looking up at his towering figure. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know really,” Fred shrugged and couldn’t but smile at the sight of you looking at him curiously, head tipped to the side and arms crossed in front of you. “Maybe it’s just cause you’re always so quiet.” The memory of you cursing at Snape under your breath a couple weeks ago made him laugh suddenly. “You do have a mouth on you, though, don’t you?”

You knew what he was referring to immediately and a flush spread across your face once more. “I’m sorry about that, again”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fred leaned against the wall again and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. “So is it?”

“No,” With a sigh you followed his movements and sat down cross legged next to him. “Though I guarantee my reasons probably aren’t as fun as yours.”

“Try me,” Fred turned then so he was facing you, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. “You first.”

Slowly your nerves started fading away. Your gaze however stayed focused on the wall in front of you. “Fine, One was for ditching History of Magic to read in one of the broom cupboards.”

“Well aren’t you a little rebel.”

“Oh always,” That comment made you laugh. You could hear the grin in his voice and finally worked up the nerve to look at him, trying your hardest to focus on the conversation and not on the way his school robes had been abandoned and the sleeves of his button up shirt rolled up his arms. “Now your turn.”

Talking to Fred came easier than you thought it would. A couple well timed jokes had you relaxing completely and soon enough the two of you were laughing together right there, sitting on the floor in a random hallway.

The reason behind you being there had slipped your mind completely. That is until you noticed Professor McGonagall walking down the hallway. Both of you scrambled up from the floor, simultaneously recalling the fact that you had detention.

“Professor,” You nodded and quickly straightened out your clothes.

Fred, meanwhile, gave a smirk as he leaned against the wall once more. “You know I think we ought to give you detention for keeping us waiting, Professor.”  

“Did neither of you get my owl?” McGonagall ignored the comment as she moved to unlock the door to her office.

You turned to look at Fred, both of you sharing a confused look. “Owl?”

“Your detention was cancelled,” Once the door was unlocked she stood in the doorway and glanced between the two of you. You didn’t miss the ghost of a smile that flashed on her face. “Though I suppose it’s just as well. The two of you two certainly got to know each other better. Perhaps you can now find it in yourselves to keep the staring to a minimum in my class.”

Then without another word she walked into the room and shut the door behind her.

Your stare was blank as you glanced quickly between the office, Fred, and the spot Professor McGonagall once stood. “Did she -”

Fred chuckled again and followed as you started walking down the hallway towards your common room. “Did she what? Trick us into going on a first date? I think so.”

You weren’t able to keep the grin off your face as you shook your head a little. “It was not a first date. It was talking.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Well in that case how about this weekend? We can try not to get ourselves another detention while sneaking out to Hogsmeade.” Fred stopped when you did and couldn’t help but notice the surprised look on your face, one that faded quickly. “How about it?”

“I’ll agree if you tell me one thing, first.” You challenged, eyes narrowing and arms crossing as you stared directly at him for the first time.

“Anything.” Fred’s answer was just as confident.

Your eyes flickered across his face, taking in the sight of him wearing those glasses just as you had earlier. “You’ve never worn those before have you?”

A beat passed and Fred knew he’d been caught. You could see right through him. “Yes I have.”

“No you haven’t,” Your arms fell to your sides, being able to see his hesitation clearly. “I’d remember.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you look good in them.”

“Do I?” Fred chuckled when your eyes widened at your own comment. One you evidently you hadn’t meant to actually tell him. “Since we’re confessing I suppose I should tell you that you’re right.”

“I knew it!” You were quick to respond and nod in satisfaction. “What are you wearing those for then?”

For a moment Fred only looked at you. This wasn’t where he’d seen his day going. Maybe some more pining, wondering if you’d noticed him at all. Now that he was here beside you, both of you apparently smitten enough with each other for one of your professors to meddle, he was ecstatic. “I’ll tell you but you’re not allowed to laugh at me.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Fine,” Fred started walking down the hall again but stayed focused on you to see what your reaction would be. “I thought they’d make you notice me more since you always seemed to be avoiding me.”

You tried not to smile, you really did. But the corners of your mouth started turning upwards and Fred stopped again, not being able to resist grinning along with you. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m not!” A laugh really did escape you then and you quickly put a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. You looked up at him then, a little more serious. “I swear I’m not laughing at you. I just think it’s cute.”

“Well I’m glad you think so cause I quite like these. Think I look rather dashing.” Fred pushed the glasses up a little bit from where they’d slipped and smirked. “And apparently you agree since the whole reason we’re here is your staring.”

“Hey, both of us were staring, thank you very much.”

“Well I couldn’t help myself, darling. You’re entrancing, you know.”

“Entrancing,” You repeated the word and your grin softened, looking away as butterflies formed in your stomach. “Is that right?”

“It is,” Fred gave a firm nod, giving you no room to argue. “You’re beautiful, love, you must know that.”

When you dared to look at him he was smiling at you, a completely genuine sparkle in his eyes as he looked only at you. You weren’t sure yet what the warm feeling that erupted in your chest and fluttered through your body at the sight of his gaze trained on you was. He was looking at you like you were the world and it overwhelmed you with emotions you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Fred on the other hand? You were positive he was definitely somebody you could get used to. Him and his smile that never faded. Him and his laugh that was practically infectious. Him and his eyes that were full of life, showed you entire worlds, and sat behind a pair of glasses he didn’t need.

“Thank you,” You couldn’t help but beam back at him, a flash of confidence suddenly coursing through your veins. “So are you.”

[babyboy-cody]

ch. 01 | finding out

summary: after feeling so different for the past week, you decided to go to the doctor in order to find out what was actually wrong with you. the cause of you feeling this way was something you weren’t expecting.

warnings: depictions of early signs of pregnancy, clueless grayson, mentions of sean, implications of smut, mentions of abortion

quick note: okay so this is my first ever grayson series, so hopefully i make you guys proud. some of the pregnancy signs are things that some people don’t go through, so i wanted to make it as realistic as possible. any feedback would be great! <3

word count: 2.6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Waking up early in the morning, you never expected to feel like shit. From the position you were laying in, your tender breasts were pressed into the bed, causing you the slightest pain. You groaned and winced as you went to turn. Just from moving, you felt nauseous and dizzy, the blinding light from the sun pouring into the room caused you to squint. Grayson wasn’t in bed beside you as usual. He always woke up at the ass crack of dawn to start his morning routines of breakfast, exercising for two hours, and shower. The rest of his day is spent doing activities, such as woodworking/building, spending time with you, long-boarding, or exercising some more.

A wave of cramps suddenly hit you, causing you to muffle your long moan into your pillow. You tucked your body into the fetal position, tucking your hand under your sweatpants to press down on your lower stomach, hoping that the pressure would ease the aggravating pain. For the past week, you’ve been constantly getting cramps. The breast tenderness happened only a day later. Premature cramps are the usual sign of starting your period. What confuses you is why you woke up with no blood staining your underwear or pants.

Sluggishly grabbing your phone from under your pillow, you opened up your usual period app. The last time you had gotten your period was exactly the same day as last month. Your eyebrows furrow when you see that you should’ve started your period exactly two weeks ago. You hastily sit up, immediately shutting your eyes as a wave of nausea hit you like a tsunami. There was brief commotion coming from the kitchen, followed by Grayson yelling, “Ethaaannn!” You faintly heard Ethan’s boisterous laugh, which only amped up his younger brother’s annoyance.

You swallowed the forming saliva at the back of your mouth. You suddenly felt so exhausted, even though you had a whole ten hour rests with no interruptions or disruptions. Swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you slowly got up, shutting your eyes to avoid feeling dizzy so fast. You desperately craved Grayson’s warm skin against yours in order to make you feel better, especially when his strong arms were wrapped around you, holding you nice and tight against him. As though the universe heard your thoughts, Grayson enters the bedroom, a comfy hoodie adorning his upper body as gray sweats adorn his lower half. He looks so comfy and warm and soft with his messy hair and growing bed and bright smile.

“Look who’s finally awake!” He announced and spread his arms wide, running over to playfully (and gently) tackle you into the bed.

“Gray, Gray, baby, be gentle,” you quickly told him, hands grabbing onto his arm as the room suddenly spun. “I’m not feeling too good today.”

He immediately sat up, using one hand to push his long hair from his face as the other slowly sits you up. His eyes were full of worry as they scan you up and down. You smiled tiredly and gently stroked his jaw, loving the feeling of his scruff on your palm.

“What’ve you been feeling?” He was quick to ask you, desperately wanting to know why you’ve been feeling sick and what could’ve caused it. “Do you think it’s cause E was sick last week?”

“I mean, maybe,” you shrugged. “I’ve been getting cramps and my boobs have been hurting as usual before I get my period.”

“So you’re starting you’re period?” He questioned, thinking that could be the reason.

“I don’t think so, babe. I’m getting symptoms I’ve never gotten before and it’s worrying me,” you quietly told him, your voice holding such worry that he’s never heard before. “I’m so exhausted and dizzy and I can’t even stand without feeling like I’m gonna pass out.” You rubbed your hands over your face, groaning at the uncomfortable churning in your stomach as you suddenly thought about eating. “I can’t even think about food without feeling like I’m gonna throw up everywhere.”

“Baby, you need to make an appointment for the doctor or the GYN to see what’s going on. You don’t know if this could be something serious,” Grayson anxiously tells you, his large hands cupping your cheeks to make eye contact with you, his thumbs lightly stroking your warm skin back and forth.

“I will,” you held onto his wrists. “I promise.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

After your serious talk with Grayson yesterday, you made an appointment to go to the gynecologist the very next day. Nerves were bubbling in the pit of your stomach, causing you to use the bathroom four times in the past hour. Ethan and Kristina were worried as well, unsure of what to do or say to make you feel at ease and less anxious. If what’s causing your sickness something terminal, they knew that Grayson would quite literally go insane. You were his person. Grayson was a believer of soulmates, and he knew deep in his heart and soul that you were his.

This morning, it was eerily quite. The air was awkward and tense with no one knowing how to break the ice. Grayson’s jaw was clenched and he watched your every move carefully. You were feeling a little better, only eating in small quantities and being forced to drink lots of water (by Grayson). Your appointment wasn’t until 2 in the afternoon, so you had plenty of time to do your morning routine and talk to Grayson. He insisted on staying in the bathroom when you shower and do your skin care.

“Gray, I’m not dying,” you joked lightly.

“Don’t fucking joke like that!” He raised his voice, glaring up at you as he sat on the edge of the top, elbows on his knees with his fingers interlocked. “That’s not fucking funny.” There was anger in his tone, and you realized how insensitive it was of you.

You knelt down in front of him, unlocked his hands and slithering more between his spread knees. He doesn’t look at you as he looks down at the ground between your own knees. “Hey,” you whisper, hands on his broad shoulders, lightly shaking them. “Look at me, please.” When he does, you see the slightest of tears along his waterline. Your heart breaks when his face scrunches up in agony and his eyes shut, his hands immediately covering his face to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Grayson…”

He sniffles into his hands, shaking his head frantically. “I can’t lose you,” he weeped so softly, his voice muffled behind the barrier of his hands. “I can’t fuckin’ lose you the same way I lost my dad. I-I just can’t.” You let him pour out his emotions, all the while holding onto his shoulders and gently pushing his hands away from his face to wipe away his warm tears. The area around his eyes and cheeks were tinged red, his beautiful eyes now turning puffy. “You don’t understand h-how broken I’d be without you, Y/N. It’s like… a piece of me might die.”

“Baby,” you whispered brokenly, shaking your head as you hurriedly pull him into your chest. His head buries itself in the crook of your neck. “I am so so sorry for making that joke, alright? Hey, look at me.” You lift his head up, wiping more of his tears with your thumbs. “I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, that everything is okay.” At the sound of your soft whisper, he lets out a quiet and shaky sigh. The thought of now hearing your voice anymore physically hurts his heart. He hesitatingly nods, desperately wanting to believe your words. But looking into your eyes this very moment, seeing the determination and confidence in your face, he has no other choice but to believe you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Sitting on the exam table in the cold room that slightly smells of hand sanitizer and wood, you didn’t know what else to think. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess as they tried to unravel itself to form a coherent sentence in your head. Grayson wanted to come in with you, but you had told him to stay in the car, out of fear of him hearing dreadful news. You closed your eyes and breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm the storm that’s beginning to make itself known. What you didn’t hearing was the door opening and the OB-GYN, Dr. Khaleesi, stepping in. She was a lovely Indian woman who was older than you by 20 years. You’ve been coming to her for a year and a half now for your usual STD checkups or any worries you had with your uterus. She was the sweetest woman you’ve come to known and you never felt judged by her.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” She asks as she shuts the door, leaving you both in privacy. She holds the clipboard to her side and sits onto the rolling stool to slide herself closer to you.

“Just nervous,” you laughed awkwardly.

“Well, it’s just me,” she tells you softly, her accent sounding so elegant as she gently pats your knee. “Now, it says on the appointment form that you’re hear for a checkup regarding your period.”

“Yes, um, I’m late on my period - about two weeks now. But I’ve been feeling a lot of cramps and breast tenderness and all the symptoms of starting my period. And I don’t know why,” you sighed and picked at your nails, not sure how to keep still.

“Alright, well, I’m going to be asking you a few simple questions and I want you to answer as honestly as possible,” Dr. Khaleesi tells you. “What day was your last period?”

“The 6th of May.”

“How long does menstrual cycle typically last?”

“Six to seven days, give or take.”

“And are you sexually active?”

You blushed as you thought about Grayson. You hadn’t forgotten the romantic picnic dinner he had set up in the backyard with a large projector hung up. Sitting there under the stars with him, being in such a close proximity to that man always made you feel so nervous. But having his hands on you, his lips on yours, his large and muscular body between your thighs, it made it all worth it. You most certainly didn’t forget how many times he made you orgasm in under an hour. You were thankful that Ethan and Kristina had gone to their own date night for a few hours.

“Y/N?” Dr. Khaleesi’s voice broke you free from your thoughts, causing you to clear your throat out of embarrassment.

“Y-Yes, I’m sexually active,” you softly responded.

Dr. Khaleesi nods and checks off the small YES box beside the question. “And how often do you engage in sexual intercourse?”

“Um, about three to four times a week.” You suddenly burst out into laughter at the surprised look on her face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she laughs as well. “At least one of us is getting some action, huh?” She laughs again when you cover your face, muffling your small groan. “Back to the questions. When was the last time you were sexually active?”

“I’d say last week, but I’ve been feeling these symptoms for the past two weeks now,” you hesitatingly told her, secretly not wanting to know the cause in order to avoid the dread and heartbreak if something was terminal.

“And what symptoms have you been having?” She asked you, now looking at your expression rather than the clipboard in her hands.

“Um,” you looked up in thought, “Nausea, cramps, breast tenderness, sudden feeling of exhaustion, loss of appetite, and I’ve been peeing a lot more.”

Dr. Khaleesi nods silently, her sudden silence makes you feel incredibly uneasy. You swallow down and exhale a shaky and audible sigh. She gives you a reassuring smile. “Do you mind if I exam your stomach?”

“N-No,” you quietly said and laid back on the cushioned exam table. “Go ahead, please.”

And after hearing your consent, Dr. Khaleesi pulled on some blue latex gloves and hovers her hands over your stomach. You pull up your shirt and pull the cracked skin of your bottom lip with your teeth. She gently presses down in different areas of your stomach, periodically asking, “Does this cause any pain? Discomfort?” And each time, you shook your head. As she was getting to the end of the exam, you went over every single possibility. What if it’s a tumor? What if you’re pregnant? Could it be cancer? Is it internal bleeding? Somehow, you couldn’t find a reason for each possibility to happen. You had no family members with a history of chronic illnesses. And you and Grayson always used protection, never birth control because of the harmful effects to your body. When Dr. Khaleesi was finished with the brief exam, she sighs softly and lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I know why you’re feeling like this, Y/N. And before I tell you, I want you to know that I am here if you ever need advice on how to do this, okay?” She tells you in a reassuring and motherly tone.

“Just tell me,” you whispered, voice cracking as you strong to keep a strong front. But with every second, it slowly disappeared, revealing a vulnerable and terrified woman in front of the doctor. “Please…”

Dr. Khaleesi sighed quietly and licked her red lipstick stained lips. “You’re… pregnant. Presumably one month pregnant.”

If you were standing, you were sure you would’ve dropped to your knees. Your mouth dropped open, trying desperately to form words, but all that came out was a weak squeak. Tears lined your waterline as you shook your head in disbelief.

“N-No, that’s… that’s fucking impossible,” you frantically said, shaking your head even more as you hastily stood up and walked over to the other side of the room. Your hands went to your hair as you paced back and forth. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my, God,” you whispered to yourself, muffling a sob with the back of your hand. “I.. he’s been talking ab-about having kids for-for so long and…” your voice shook between every word. “We’re both so young!”

“We have options, Y/N,” Dr. Khaleesi gently told you as to not scare you if she rose her voice to speak over yours. “There’s abortion-”

“No!” You shouted. “That… That is out of the question. I-I need to talk to him. I need to see where his head is at first, and-and then I can talk to you about… options,” you whispered the last word. You are pro-choice, but you know deep in your heart that you couldn’t terminate this pregnancy. If Grayson thought the opposite, you’re not sure what would happen next.

“Would you like me to schedule your next appointment in one week?” Dr. Khaleesi quietly asks you as she notices the mental battle you’re currently having. “That way you have plenty of time to discuss what you both think, okay?”

You hesitatingly nod and look over at her with an expression that nearly broke her gentle heart. “I-I’m scared, Daksha.”

At the sound of her name exiting your lips, she immediately crosses over and pulls you into a hug. She understands that this may be unprofessional to her bosses and what other patients may see as inappropriate, but she would never let a terrified woman feel alone.

“You are going to be okay, child,” she tells you quietly, one hand wrapped around your shoulders as the other lightly pats the back of your head. “Whatever you decide, I will help you along the way, okay? Do not forget that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

CURRENT TAGLIST

@etherealdols @certainaesthetic

[tsarisfanfiction]

Sentence Starters:

Can we stop for a moment? I think I need a break.

Coz I don’t think Scott’s ever uttered those words in his life!

Water Rescue

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Gordon, Scott, Virgil

Ahaha, probably not something he’d say if he had any choice in the matter, no!  That being said, five months after you sent this and I’m finally prodding this far back in my inbox (see, I get around to prompts eventually!).  I might even have some idea why he might be saying it.  Maybe.

Now... can I even find the original prompt list for this...  Oop, apparently it was on the wrong blog, but found it eventually!

Injured Sentence Starters

“Can we stop for a moment?  I think I need a break.”

Gordon hit the edge of the pool and caught the side of it, pulling himself vertical and looking over at his eldest brother, who was clinging to the side and looking absolutely exhausted.  It wasn’t an admittance Scott ever made lightly, but while he had his pride - especially in front of younger brothers - he did have some level of common sense.

The tongue-lashings Gordon had delivered in the past when he’d pushed himself beyond his limits in the pool and ended up cramping and in need of rescue himself might have also, finally, sunk in.  You couldn’t save someone else if you were in trouble yourself.

He eyed Scott anyway, because he was looking a little pale and he suspected he’d still pushed further than he should have done with their water training, but didn’t hesitate to agree.

“We can take a break,” he agreed.  “Get up on the poolside and take a breather.”

Chlorinated water plastering his hair down even more effectively than the handfuls of hair gel employed every morning, Scott nodded.  He really was looking pale, now Gordon was looking at him properly, and he lingered back in the water as Scott turned and grasped the edge of the pool with a white-knuckled grip.  Biceps rippled, Scott’s arms tensing in preparation of the pull, and then Gordon was surging the foot or so between them and catching his brother as his grip failed and he vanished beneath the surface.

Yanking Scott back up, Gordon trod water as he patted his brother’s cheek.  His eyes were closed, face drained of all colour, and in the back of his mind Gordon retracted anything he’d thought about Scott learning not to overdo it.  Then again, he should not have been exhausted to the point of fainting from what they’d done so far.

He frowned.

“C’mon, Scott,” he urged, fingers slipping down to press against the pulse point beneath his brother’s jaw.  It was still there, slightly thready but not enough to be a concern.  Wet fingers in front of a partially open mouth registered steady breathing, so with a scowl he returned to tapping Scott’s cheek insistently.  “Wake up.”

There was a cough and a splutter, and he grasped at the side of the pool again, allowing his own legs a respite from treading water as Scott blinked his way back into consciousness.

“Gords?”  His name was a little quiet and unsteady, confusion lacing though in the background.

“You fainted,” Gordon told him bluntly.  Scott blanched, as though he wasn’t already pale enough, and Gordon’s suspicions rose.  There was something his brother wasn’t telling him.  “Training is over.”

The sigh he got in response wasn’t surprised, rather resigned.  Gordon tightened his grip as Scott reached for the side of the pool again.

“You’ve been dunked enough,” he said a little sharply.  “I’m going to swim you back to the shallow end and we’ll get out there.”

“I can-”

“Absolutely not.”  Sometimes, Gordon couldn’t believe his brother’s stupidity.  “Come on.”  He kicked away from the side, bringing Scott with him; despite his words, his brother didn’t fight his hold.  It didn’t take long to get them back to the shallows, where both of them could stand easily on the bottom.  “Out.”

Scott grasped the side again, muscles rippling as he pulled himself up.  Gordon took no chances, boosting him from the side until he was clear before bringing himself out alongside.

Any attempts his brother might have made to escape were scuppered by a hand on his wrist, keeping him by the poolside.

“Do I need to give you the water safety lecture again?” he demanded.  “You do not push yourself to the point of collapse in the pool.  Ever.”

“I know.”  Scott looked slightly unsure, and Gordon paused.  “I was fine, Gordon, I promise.  I don’t know what happened.”

Gordon didn’t like the sound of that at all; it made sense insofar as the fact that he also hadn’t noticed anything was wrong until immediately before, but if Scott was fainting for no apparent reason, then that was potentially something a lot more serious.

“You didn’t forget to eat earlier, did you?”  Scott shook his head.  “Sleepless night?”  That headshake was less certain, but knowing his brother’s sleeping habits, that didn’t unduly surprise Gordon.  Still, it was concerning.  He reached out for Scott’s pulse point again.

Scott didn’t pull back.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, feeling the thrumming pulse under his fingers.  It was stronger than when he’d been unconscious, but still wasn’t quite right.

“I’m fine,” Scott promised.  “Whatever it was has passed.”

“I’ll be more convinced once I’ve got a scan on you,” Gordon muttered.  Scott baulked at the idea, but he held firm.  “Scott, if you’re ill, we need to know.”  Just the idea of his brother having another fainting spell in the air, at the controls of Thunderbird One, or even in a danger zone...

No, Gordon couldn’t let that happen.

“I’m not ill.”  On the plus side, Scott clearly felt fine enough to be a terrible patient.  That being said, it wasn’t a particularly high bar; keeping him pinned down if he was coherent was always a challenge.

“If you can stand up without a headrush or fainting again, I’ll consider believing you,” Gordon pointed out, bringing his hand back from Scott’s throat and making his way to his feet.  “Think you can?”  He held out his hands for Scott to take.  His stubborn brother didn’t accept the help, so Gordon snatched his wrists anyway.

It turned out to be a good move, because Scott swayed slightly - not much, but more than he’d ever do if he was completely healthy - as he reached his full height.  Gordon narrowed his eyes.

“Infirmary or den?” he asked, less because he wanted to give Scott an out and more because the den was closer.

“Den is fine,” Scott replied, predictably.  Well, if he wanted to play it that way.

“Den it is,” Gordon agreed, and raised an eyebrow at Scott’s suspicious look.  “What?  I gave you the choice, didn’t I?”

The noise Scott made in his throat was just as suspicious as the look, but his brother didn’t reply.  Gordon grinned at him and led the way, not letting go.  Scott stumbled after him until Gordon ducked underneath his arm.  The stairs were, in Gordon’s opinion, too much of a risk, so he dragged his brother towards the elevator and tried not to think about the trail of water they were traipsing all through the house.

Hopefully Grandma would understand.

Still, he snagged a towel in passing and slung it around his neck until the elevator spat them out upstairs.  It was deployed on Scott upon arrival in the den, because the sofa cushions were only water resistant and Grandma got very upset if wet bodies sat on them for any length of time.

Scott grumbled protests that he was capable of drying himself, which Gordon ignored entirely, before sinking down entirely too gratefully onto the nearest sofa.  Gordon hurriedly got rid of the worst of the water from his own body before he threw himself onto the sofa next to Scott.

“Virgil,” he called, prodding at his wrist comm and leaning sharply out of Scott’s reach as his brother reacted.  “Could you bring a medscanner to the den?”

“What happened?”  A grease-covered Virgil appeared in miniature, scowling up at him in concern.  “Weren’t you and Scott doing water training?”

“Until Scott fainted,” Gordon agreed, ignoring the hiss of his name from said older brother and extending his arm so that it was out of Scott’s reach.  “As you can see, he’s lively again now, but-”

“You have no idea why?”  Whether Virgil was finishing his sentence or just guessing, he wasn’t sure, but either way it was correct.

“Yup,” he agreed.  “So if you could..?”

“I’m on my way.”

The call cut out just as Scott managed to grab his wrist.

“Gordon.”

“What?” he asked.  “You thought I was going to just leave you here while I fetched it so you could escape?”  From the frustrated look on his brother’s face, that was exactly what big brother had been hoping for.  “If you didn’t want Virgil involved, you should have picked the infirmary, bro.”

He was fairly sure the growled words under Scott’s breath were ones from the military-dictionary, and not the Grandma-approved one.

“Love you, too, bro.”  He pushed himself upright again and gave his brother another once-over.  Scott really did look fine, and the chances were high that it was a random one-off - probably his sleep schedule catching up with him at last - but Gordon couldn’t shake the unease.  “Look, Scott.  Just humour me, okay?  If the scan doesn’t show anything then that’s fine.  I just want to be sure.”

Scott sighed, reluctance oozing from every pore, but he didn’t argue.

“I’m fine.”

Well, he didn’t argue much.

“That’s for the scanner to decide.”

Booted feet all but running across the floor cut off any retort Scott might have been building, and Virgil appeared.  Somehow he looked even more grease-stained than his hologram had, but Gordon was more interested in the medscanner he was clutching.

Scott endured it with bad grace.

“How long was he out?” Virgil demanded.  Gordon shrugged.

“A few seconds,” he said.  “Thirty, tops.”  It wasn’t long, but it was long enough.

Virgil’s hum seemed to agree with him as the scanner beeped.  Three pairs of eyes focused on it.

Nothing wrong.

Well, technically it was flagging up some minor exhaustion - no doubt from the training - and an advisory about sleep and electrolytes flashed up, but there was nothing dramatic.

Virgil scowled at Scott.  “Electrolytes,” he said.  “And sleep.  I’m grounding you for twelve hours, and it’ll be longer if you don’t spend at least half of them in bed.”  He brandished the scanner when Scott’s mouth opened.  “Preferably all of them.”

Brown eyes glanced to Gordon, ignoring the protests coming from their big brother.  “Get him to his room while I fix something up.”

“F.A.B.  Come on, Scotty.  Bed time.”  He slipped off the sofa and grabbed Scott’s arms.  “Up you get.”  Blue eyes glowered at him in frustration, but with the dreaded g-word hanging over him, Scott was reluctantly compliant.  Already he was steadier on his feet, to the point that Gordon was happy to risk the stairs up to the bedrooms.

There were, thankfully, no more incidents, and Scott sank down onto his bed with another glare.  Gordon joined him, uninvited but equally not dismissed, and they sat shoulder to shoulder as they waited for Virgil.

The family medic didn’t take long, appearing with a sports bottle in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“Drink all of it,” he instructed, pressing the bottle into Scott’s hand.  Big brother made a face but obediently took a few gulps.  “Once you’re done, get into pyjamas and go to bed.”  The water was placed on the bedside table, alongside a pill.  “If you can’t sleep, take that.”

Scott’s shoulders slumped but there was no protest.  Then again, Gordon probably wasn’t the only one who had thought about the what-ifs of a repeat on a rescue.  Scott was many things, but sometimes he could see the same dangers the rest of them were scared of.  Not always, but sometimes.

“Gordon Cooper Tracy!”

Oops.  Grandma must have found the trail of water.  He glanced at his older brothers, who both looked vaguely sympathetic - a first, but then he’d had good reason this time - but offered no support.

“I’d say that’s my cue to leave,” he said, dragging himself to his feet.  He pressed a hand to Scott’s shoulder.  “See you in twelve hours, Scotty.”

There was no agreement - then again, Scott staying in bed for twelve hours seemed less likely than John willingly going to a party - but there was a small quirk of his lips into what could be a smile.

“Thanks, Gordon.”

Gordon huffed.  “No more fainting during water training.  I’m getting fed up of having to drag you out at the end.”

“This was the first time!” Scott protested, but Gordon didn’t bother answering that; the other occasions might have seen him still conscious, but they’d otherwise been no better.  Instead, he gave a jaunty wave to his eldest brother, and offered Virgil a sloppy handover salute - big brother was his responsibility now - before slipping out of the room to face Grandma.

Scott was in good hands.

[secretlysheikah]

Tower troubles: Journey To The Spring

Another chapter for you all to hopefully enjoy!

As always I don’t own the Linked Universe the honor belongs to @jojo56830, check them out their comic is amazing!

Once again I claim no ownership over any of these characters, I am but a humble “writer” who likes angst way too much for their own good.

Start here:

When all was said and done Wild had six bottles of stamina elixirs of various strength and the honey candies Wind gave him to work with. He was even able to scrape enough ingredients together to make energizing honeyed apples for the group for breakfast. All together It wasn’t much but it would have to do. As the sun broke over the horizon and the smell of the sweet honeyed apples wafted through the camp it didn’t take long for the assembled heroes to stir and take their place around the fire. Soon everyone was munching on their light breakfast Wild had prepared and Time and Twilight began to discuss their plan to get to the spring.

“Alright the trek to the spring from here is about a day and half walk. It shouldn’t be too difficult to get to there, but there are some things to keep in mind.” Twilight said around a mouth full of apple.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full” Time admonished gently and gave Twilight a look of disapproval. There was a chorus of poorly disguised snickering and Time gave them all a good natured glare. Twilight made a face as he swallowed his mouthful of apple and sighed dramatically. He rested his apple on his knee and wiped his sleeve across his mouth before continuing.

“As I was saying there are some things to keep in mind.” Twilight started again his face stern as he waited for everyone to settle once again. Slowly the snickering died down and he was able to continue.

“Between us and the spring are a few challenges. There’s a couple of monster camps that we should try to avoid as well as some deku babas scattered around the forest floor that-” Twilight said and was promptly interrupted by Hyrule.

“What is a deku baba?” He asked before taking another bite of his apple.

“Oh, they’re basically a giant plant monster that pops out from the ground and bites you.” Twilight explained simply and was about to continue until Legend piped up from his spot next to Sky.

“A plant monster? You’re telling me you have plant monsters? Why is this even a thing?” He grumbled unhappily and Twilight only offered a shrug in return.

“Well any pointers on how to kill them then?” Legend asked holding the remains of his apple aloft in front of his chest and slouching against the stump behind him.

“Slice them at the stem with your sword and don’t let them bite you.” Sky answered distractingly as he took a small bite from his apple. Sky hadn’t eaten much, appearing too deep in thought to really pay the food much attention. Wild watched him closely, the abrupt conversation they had that morning was still fresh in his mind.

“Don’t get bit? No shit, thanks for the tip.” Legend snorted as he popped the last bit of his apple into his mouth and chewed grumpily. Twilight eyed Sky for a moment before he continued once again.

“You can also stun them by shooting them with a sling shot or an arrow. That should make it easier to get to the stem. They are also hidden but you can usually spot them before they pop out. It’s hard to explain what to look for so I’ll just show you when we come across one.” Twilight said and hurriedly talked about other aspects of the trek ahead before anyone else could interupt. Wild slowly turned his own apple around in his hands and tuned Twilight’s monologue out. 

He nibbled at his own apple dispassionately, his stomach still felt like it was tied in painful knots. Honestly he still felt slightly flu-ish, but he knew if he didn’t eat something there would be a decent chance that his stomach would reject the stamina elixir outright. Seeing no way around it, Wild slowly ate away at the sweet flesh of the apple and prayed it wouldn’t make him puke. In an attempt to distract himself, he cast is eyes back towards Sky and watched as the soft spoken hero turned his own apple around between his fingers. 

Sky didn’t look great. Dark bags clung heavily to the underside of Sky’s eyes and he slouched forward like something was weighing him down. It was almost eerie seeing him that way, like it was somehow fundamentally wrong. Suddenly Sky lifted his eyes towards Wild and Wild looked away quickly not wanting Sky to feel like he was being judged. Wild took another bite of apple and grimaced at the way his stomach flipped dangerously. He felt Wind lean in close as he eyed Wild’s barely touched apple. 

“Are you going to finish that?” Wind whispered and wordlessly Wild shook his head and handed the apple over. Wind grabbed it quickly and scarfed it down greedily, like he hadn’t eaten in days. Hell, for all Wild knew it was entirely possible that the whole group hadn’t eaten much considering he was out of commission for the past few days. Wild grimaced at the pang of guilt he felt deep in his chest. He would have to make a special dinner for them all as a thank you. It was the least he could after everything they’ve been through because of him.

“how does that sound Wild?” Warriors called out to him and Wild’s head snapped up in surprise. He hadn’t realized he was being spoken to and his mouth opened and closed uselessly as he tried to form a coherent response to the question. 

“You didn’t hear a word I just said did you?” Warriors asked with a sigh and Wild could feel heat rushing to his face. 

“I’m sorry, could you repeat what you were saying?” Wild asked quietly avoiding eye contact with Warriors as he tried to force back his embarrassment. 

“I was just saying that we should keep you to the center of the group to make sure you don’t get left behind or attacked.” Warriors explained and Wild nodded along quietly. He didn’t really like the idea but Warriors was right. He was in no condition to defend himself properly let alone fight. His thoughts drifted back to the coded drawings Time and himself had exchanged that morning. 

‘Don’t trust me.’ 

‘Keep an eye on you?’ 

‘Take us out, one by one?’ 

As much as he hated feeling dependent on the others, keeping himself in the middle of the group was for the best. He had no idea how in control he was, and frankly he didn’t want to risk anything happening. He didn’t want to risk hurting the others. 

“Alright, if I start to slow the group down just shock me with an shock arrow to keep me moving.” Wild joked weakly and Warriors snorted out an amused laugh. 

“Don’t worry about that, we’ll just have Wind give you a piggyback ride. He’s eaten about three of those apples you’ve made and it seems he’s practically ready to run to the spring.” Warriors laughed and he nodded his head towards Wind. Wild followed Warrior’s gesture and his eyes landed on Wind who was now sitting next to Sky, his legs bouncing slightly as he sat. Wind fidgeted around and his eyes were wide and bright, he practically oozed energy. He gave Wild a jittery thumbs up and Wild felt his lips twitch up at the corners in poorly concealed amusement. Though at the same time Wild felt slightly concerned that the youngest hero might explode if they didn’t get moving soon. 

Luckily enough the travel plans concluded not too long after that and thanks to Wind’s boundless energy camp was packed up swiftly. Still Wild kept an eye on Sky, he seemed to be moving around just fine. Sky was talking to the others like nothing was wrong and Wild could have sworn he heard him humming when he walked past. But still he made sure to kept an eye on Sky. For some reason he couldn’t get his mind off the idea that there was something wrong.

Much to Wild’s dismay Time and Twilight seemed determined to carry all of his things. Time had grabbed his bed roll and Twilight stuffed Wild’s pillow into his own pack despite Wild’s protests. He argued that he could just store his stuff in his slate and save the hassle. But Twilight had only shook his head and made the point that if for some reason Wild was some how incapacitated then they wouldn’t be able to get his sleeping things from the slate. Wild had begrudgingly agreed and only just managed to keep hold of hip pack saying that he wasn’t an invalid and for the love of Din, he could handle carrying some spare bandages and water. They had thankfully left him be after that and soon after they headed out towards the spring.

It didn’t take long for Wild to feel his body begin to protest. His limbs felt heavy like they were tied down with heavy weights and he could feel the pain he was so careful to keep in check this morning begin to wear away at him. He had taken another stamina elixir when he stumbled over a rock and was caught by Warriors who was walking next to him. Warriors didn’t mention it but Wild could feel his eyes dart to him every few minutes to make sure he wouldn’t stumble again. The elixir helped, he felt energy coursing through his aching muscles and he was able to keep his footing on the uneven ground for a little while after that.

Conversation was scarce. Wild could hear the quiet chatter of half hearted conversations but they all seemed to fizzle out quickly. Everyone seemed to be in their own heads as they walked. Wild watched their eyes scan the field around them wearily. Wild could tell they were all on edge and he didn’t blame them. He could feel how his own instincts would snap his attention to the slightest noise around them. They had been walking for about an hour when Twilight let out a small cry of triumph and made the group stop.

“What’s the hold up?” Legend complained from his place just behind Wild. Twilight held up a hand and moved slowly closer to whatever he had seen.

“I found a deku baba, everyone look closely so you know what to look for as we walk.” Twilight said and gestured for the group to move a little closer. Wild took up the spot next to Twilight and leaned in to get a better look. He could see a grouping of large leaf clusters fanned out in a large circle on the ground. The leaves were a reddish color at the tips and they faded out to a dark green at the center where an odd mound of foliage clustered around a hole. It didn’t look to impressive but when he made to take a step closer he found his way blocked by Time’s outstretched arm. Wild shot him a confused look before he cautiously took a step back.

“That doesn’t look too impressive Twi, are you sure this is it?” Hyrule asked as he stood on tip toes to get a better look at the leaves. Twilight didn’t say a word, only pulled out his sling shot and aimed at the center of the leaf mound. He loosed a stone and the group heard the muted thump of stone on plant matter. There was a second of baited silence and then the huge bulbous head of the plant rocketed into the air, mouth champing at Hyrule who had been slowly moving closer. Hyrule let out a cry of alarm and stumbled backward, arms pinwheeling in fright as he lost his footing and fell on his back and scrambled away. As a testament to the group’s mood no one laughed, only watched the plant as it thrashed around searching for a target.  

Wild felt his eyes widen in horror. The plant was absolutely huge. If he had to guess it must have been at least eight feet tall and it’s stem was covered in long sharp looking thorns. The head of the plant was a bright blue, with a large mouth that practically bisected the almost absurdly large, oblong head in half. The mouth itself had large, thin, sharp teeth the length of his hand. Wild felt revulsion creep into his throat as the creature’s long whip-like tongue thrashed back and forth as it snapped and quested for whoever was dumb enough to get too close.

“By the love of the Goddess, I think my heart stopped for a minute there.” Hyrule breathed out quietly as Legend helped him to his feet.

“It’s like some deranged jack-in-the-box” Legend breathed out seemingly awestruck by the sight.

“No kidding” Four agreed holding his sword aloft in his hand. He was tense, like he expected the plant to suddenly sprout legs and run after them.

“They’re definitely vicious little things.” Warriors sneered when the plant whipped his way and snapped at the air in front of him. He glared at it as he drew his bow and shot an arrow right in the creature’s mouth.

The plant let out an eerie wail and stood straight up, it’s tongue lulling out of the side of it’s mouth as it swayed. Wasting no time Twilight ran forward and with a mighty sweep of his sword sliced right through the stem of the plant. It collapsed to the ground and writhed for a moment before it shriveled up and died.

“Now you know what to look for. So please be cautious as you walk.” Twilight said as he sheathed his sword and gestured for everyone to begin moving again.

The day passed slowly, and the longer they walked the more Wild could feel himself growing more exhausted. He found his mind constantly drifting between hyper focusing on how tired he achy he felt to half heartedly scanning the slowly encroaching woods around them. He was so exhausted that he hadn’t even noticed that the group seemed to be rotating around him until he felt the small hand of Four tug at his sleeve to get his attention. Wild blinked slowly at Four for a moment before he unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. 

“When did you get here? Where did Wars go?” Wild asked in bemusement as he looked blearily around at his traveling companions. Four raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve been walking with you the past half hour. Wars is right behind us. Don’t you remember us rotating?” Four asked and Wild could only shake his head. He must really be loosing it if he hadn’t noticed people switching positions. Noticing the blank look on Wild’s face Four grabbed his sleeve lightly, making sure Wild focused on him.

“Twilight asked you if you wanted to take a break?” Four asked and he gestured to Wild’s other side. Blinking tiredly Wild swung his head to look at a very concerned Twilight.

“Yeah, we’re taking a break. You need to sit for a little while.” Twilight said not even waiting for Wild to reply.

It was just past noon when the group sidled off the path and found some shade just under a small copse of trees. Wild sat down heavily and found to his dismay that his hands were shaking. He leaned back against a tree and took slow breaths, willing the shaking to stop. He felt his chest spasm and he coughed and wheezed. It was getting harder to keep the pain under control and Wild clenched his fists in frustration. 

‘I’m better than this, I’ve been through much worse. I can handle this.’ He thought to himself as he rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and took a minute to collect himself. But all he could think about was how tired and achy he was. Wild let out a small groan, all he wanted to do was just lie down and not move for another hundred years. He let out a frustrated sigh and let his hands drop away from his face. He just needed to walk a little further and then he could rest. he could do this. 

“Cub? Hello? Did you even hear a word I said?” Twilight asked quietly and Wild let out a small yelp of surprise. Wild blinked owlishly up at Twilight as his tired brain tried to form an answer. He hadn’t even realized that Twilight was there let alone talking to him and he could feel a flash of heat rise up his neck. Twilight shook his head and sat down just in front of him, and for the second time that day Wild tried to swallow back his embarrassment.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you doing okay?” Twilight asked again and leaned forward to get a better look at Wild’s face. Wild made a point not to not make eye contact, he didn’t want Twilight to see how embarrassed he was.

“It’s okay, I guess I was just lost in thought.” Wild said with a small laugh, trying to play off his earlier distraction. He dared flick his eyes towards Twilight and saw his unconvinced expression. Wild rolled his eyes and lifted his hands in supplication. 

“I’m doing alright really, just tired.” Wild sighed and he could hear Twilight suck on his teeth for moment before he responded.

“We can stop for the day. We’ve made good progress and I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

Wild shook his head fervently, his hands already grasped at his slate and opened up his inventory.

“I’ll be fine, really Twi. I have enough elixirs to keep me going for a little while longer.” Wild reassured, his fingers tapping on his slate and making a bright green elixir appear in his hand. Wild could see Twilight’s lips press into a firm line.

“How much farther do we have to go anyways?” Wild asked casually when he saw Twilight’s stern expression. 

“Well, if we walk until sundown and we get a relatively early start tomorrow we should reach the spring by midday tomorrow. But I’m not going to risk your health for the sake of making progress.” Twilight said with a hint of a growl in his voice as he eyed the bottle in Wild’s hands.

“That’s doable, I can manage that far, and if for some reason I can’t you’ll be the first to know. I promise. ” Wild said firmly as he met Twilight’s stony gaze. Twilight looked him up and down again before he spoke.

“Be sure you do. Because If I so much as see a flicker of discomfort on your face, we are stopping for the night.” He warned and Wild nodded stiffly. He knew there was no point in arguing with Twilight. When it came down to his health he knew full well that his mentor would stop the earth just to make sure he would rest, no matter how much Wild complained and argued to the contrary.

Seemingly satisfied that Wild understood the terms of his warning Twilight stood and stretched.

“Drink some water, we are leaving in a few minutes.” He said and left Wild to down his elixir and get himself ready to set off again.

***********

They had been walking for another hour when Wild felt his mind begin to drift again. He tried his best to stay focused. He kept his eyes moving, alternating between scanning the the ground for the odd leaf piles and looking around at the woods that were starting to move in closer around them but he still felt himself begging to drift. The elixir worked through his system quickly and before long he found his feet beginning to drag again and he was forced to down another to keep himself upright.

A cough snapped Wild’s attention back to reality and he found himself blinking in the beginning rays of sunset. There was another cough and Wild slowly moved his eyes to his left to see Legend walking beside him. Wild felt his eyebrows raise as he stared at him, waiting for Legend to say something.

“So, Hyrule thought it would be a good idea for us to talk.” Legend began awkwardly and Wild felt his eyebrows creep further up towards his hair line.

“Is that so? Maybe you just want to offer me some more of that special tea of yours and save yourself the apology.” Wild said coldly and was graced with a sneer from Legend. Wild didn’t care, he could feel a spark of anger settling in his gut and a large part of him desperately wanted punch Legend in the face.

“I’m not going to apologize, I did what I thought was right.” Legend said and Wild snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Oh please, spare me the self righteous spiel. It doesn’t make what you did right. You didn’t even talk to me about staying put that night.” Wild began but was interrupted by Legend’s own snort of poorly concealed frustration.

“Please, like you would have listened to reason. You’re always so damn stubborn.” He spat and Wild’s let out a small laugh of indignation.

“It still doesn’t make it right Legend. You lied to me outright. You didn’t even pause before you promised me that you would convince the others to leave. Then to make matters worse, you just kept lying right to my face.” Wild could feel an angry blush color the tips of his ears and he had to look away and breathe. After a moment he managed to get himself back under control to finish his train of thought.

“How. How can I possibly trust you if your knee-jerk reaction is to lie first and apologize never?” Wild finished hotly, his arms moving up to cross in front of his chest.

“I did what I thought was right for your safety. You were in no position to be moved and you would have just caused yourself more harm.” Legend spat back harshly avoiding looking Wild in the eyes. 

“Doing things because you think it’s for the best is a slippery slope to becoming a monster.” Wild hissed viciously and was surprised when Legend let out a bark of humorless laughter.

“Who says I’m not already a monster.” Legend muttered darkly and Wild suddenly felt off kilter. For the first time Wild noticed how Legend was toying with the rings on his fingers. It was a nervous habit that Wild had noticed when Legend was in stressful situations. His anger suddenly forgotten he let his arms drop to his sides and he tried to catch the veteran’s eyes.

“Wait, what? Legend what-” Wild began but was suddenly cut off by a surprised shout.

“Bomb!”

There was a split second where time seemed to slow to a stop, and then everyone scattered raising their shields as they went. Wild had just enough time to summon a shield and take a few hasty steps back before the bomb went off. He could feel the thunderous explosion rock the ground beneath him, the shock wave made his chest shudder. Even with his shield raised Wild could still feel pieces of dirt pelt his head, could feel hot shrapnel slice small cuts into his exposed legs. Wild staggered back, his ears rang painfully and he blinked stupidly as he looked around at the chaos unfolding around him.

An ambush, he thought sluggishly, watching as the others yelled and fought against odd looking monsters. Bokoblins, these were Twilight’s bokoblins... yeah, that’s right, they were in Twilight’s Hyrule. Wild shook his head trying to bring himself back to the present. After what felt like an eternity but was in reality only a few seconds the world slammed back into full speed and the ringing his ears dissipated with a small pop. Adrenaline coursed through him and in a swirl of blue lights Wild summoned a sword and made to to run into the fray. He only managed a coupe steps before he heard a shrieking laugh and felt a heavy weight slam onto his back. He was sent careening to the ground chest first, his left arm twisting painfully under him and he felt all the air shoot out of his lungs.

He would have cried out if he had the air. The pain was all encompassing. All the pain that he had been carefully managing since that morning came back with a vengeance and it was all he could do just to stay conscious. He could feel whatever was on top of him jump up and down in delight crushing his lungs even further and making his broken ribs pop and grind together. He could taste blood in his mouth and as hard as he tried he couldn’t get the leverage to lift himself and throw the weight off him. He turned his head to the side and was just able to see a wild looking bokoblin standing on top of him, arms raised high in the air with a sword poised to pin him to the ground like a butterfly. 

Wild distantly heard someone yell his name but he couldn’t do anything to respond, couldn’t do anything to save himself. Useless, he was useless and pinned down by bokoblin of all things. He watched with wide eyes as the creature began to bring it’s sword down, watched the blood lust sparkle in it’s eyes as it let out a triumphant cry... and then it was gone. There was a streak of red and blue and the bokoblin was suddenly off his back and he was able to suck in a choked breath of air. 

Wild lifted himself on shaky arms and watched as Legend and the bokoblin tumbled to the ground and began to grapple. The bokoblin let out a screech of rage and kicked Legend off as it sprang to it’s feet with a snarl. Legend landed in a crouch and lifted his sword, matching the beast’s glare with one of his own. He spat blood onto the ground before he banged his sword against his shield. It was a clear challenge and the bokoblin accepted as it launched itself forward with a screech to trade blows.

 Legend moved almost inhumanly fast, his blade appearing only as a motion smear in the air around him. Wild watched in awe as Legend matched the monster’s wild swings with his own graceful parries and sword thrusts. Watching Legend fight was like watching a trained dancer command a stage. He was lighting fast and precise in all his movements where the bokoblin was savage and crazed. Wild couldn’t fathom how the monster was able to keep up and judging on the intense glare on Legend’s face it appeared that he wasn’t too sure how it was doing it either. Legend let out a frustrated cry after the bokoblin managed to evade his blade once again and with a heavy swing he locked swords with the beast.

 The pair stood in a silent struggle of wills as each of them tried to force the other to break the lock, their chests heaving with the effort. Wild watched in surprise as the bokoblin braced it’s back leg in the dirt and with the other delivered a harsh kick to Legend’s chest sending the vet staggering back. There was a sudden whoosh of air and Legend let out a pained cry as the bulbous head of a deku baba clamped down around his chest. 

That was it, Wild felt himself suddenly snap out of his pained stupor and he rushed forward with a new surge of adrenaline. Before the bokoblin could turn to face him Wild brought his sword down in a deadly slice and practically chopped the monster in two. There was no time to watch it fall, instead Wild dropped his sword and shield to the ground and summoned a bow and lined up his shot. He felt a fiery burn in his chest as he drew the string back, his ribs screamed a muted cry of agony and with a cry of his own his shot the head of the plant. The thing screeched and released it’s hold on Legend who fell to his knees and clutched at his chest. Wild didn’t waste a single second before dropping his bow and scooped up his sword again running forward and slicing through the thick stem of the plant. It crashed heavily to the ground with a dying wail and writhed before finally laying still at Wild’s feet. 

Wild felt all the adrenaline leave his body as quickly as it had arrived and with a sigh he too crashed face first to the ground next to Legend. Dark spots flooded the edges of his vision as he laid there, winded and pained. They didn’t say anything to each other for a little while, only listened to the fighting around them slowly die down. 

“Are you okay?” Wild panted out when he finally got some of his breath back. Legend let out a pained gasp of his own and threw himself down to the ground next to him. 

“Aren’t I supposed to ask you that? You’re the idiot who ate dirt back there.” Legend snapped and then grimaced at his tone. “Sorry, that was meaner than I intended” He apologized quickly. Wild took in a shuddering gasp and laughed weakly. 

“It’s fine, I was an idiot. That thing had me dead to rights. I should be thanking you. How did you get there so fast?” Wild mumbled as he tried to flip over on his back. He felt a hand on his back and he grunted and stopped moving. 

“Pegasus boots. Don’t try to move, we don’t know how hurt you are yet.” Legend warned and Wild huffed out a tired breath. 

“What about you? You’re the one that got munched on by that damned plant.” Wild said before moving his hand to his mouth to wipe the blood from his lip. 

“I was able to shield myself for the most part, got some cuts and I can feel where some of the teeth punctured my back but I don’t think it hit anything vital.” Legend muttered grumpily and Wild couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that escaped his throat. 

“That’s something at least. I think my arm is broken” Wild said as he flopped his left arm out with a hiss of pain for added emphasis. Legend turned his head and fixed him with a flat look. 

“I swear we can’t take you anywhere. What about your chest?” Legend asked and Wild blinked lazily at him. 

“Oh you know, the usual. Though judging by the sheer amount of extra pain I have right now I wouldn’t be surprised if I broke some more ribs.” Wild hissed out painfully as he once again made to move on to his back. 

“Stop doing that. By the Goddess how are you even still trying to move?” Legend asked exasperatedly as he pushed down on Wild’s back again. 

“Sheer force of will, with a sprinkling of stubbornness. Also I don’t think the pain has really settled in yet.” Wild said with weary grin that was met with a worried look. 

“Please tell me you’re not going into shock.” Legend moaned, suddenly sitting up with a groan and knelt over Wild’s prone form. 

“Haha, no promises...” Wild slurred and was met with a light smack to the back his head for his trouble.

“Shut up, I’m going to check out your back and then I’ll see if I can flip you over.” Legend said as he grabbed at the hem of Wild’s tunic and pulled up. Wild felt cold air on his back and he shivered. Legend said nothing and only poked at different parts on his back and hummed when Wild would let out soft groans of pain. Legend’s fingers felt slightly sticky on his back but Wild didn’t comment on it. Instead he tried to crane his head so he could get a look at Legend’s face. 

“What did you mean earlier?” Wild asked after Legend finally pulled his tunic back down over his back and moved to his other side to get a better look at the wounds left behind by the shrapnel.  

“It looks like you popped the stiches on your leg.” Legend said dispassionately acting as if Wild hadn’t said anything. 

“Great, just great. But that’s not what I was asking about” Wild pressed and he yelped when he felt Legend grab his left arm and began to press into the bruised skin. Wild cursed and tried to yank his arm away from Legend’s probing fingers and Legend tsked. 

“Yep, that is definitely broken. I’m going to have to splint that.” Legend said pointedly and dropped his arm back down and ignored the gasp of pain Wild let out. Undeterred Wild pressed on.

“Legend, you implied you were a monster. What were you talking about?” Wild hissed out between gritted teeth. He was once again ignored and he could feel Legend move to his other side once again. Once there Legend leaned over top of him and grab at his opposite shoulder.

“I’m going to flip you over. This is going to hurt.” Legend said tightly and without preamble pulled until Wild was laying on his back. Wild gasped as his back thudded against the ground and he felt tears spring to his eyes. He was left gasping and it took him a minute to catch his breath again. 

“By the Gods, you have to work on your bedside manner.” Wild wheezed out and glared at Legend with squinted eyes. 

“And you need to know when to stop asking questions.” Legend snapped back and Wild drew his lips into a firm line. 

“I just want to understand what you meant.” Wild said quietly and he watched Legend’s ridged form slump ever so slightly. 

“I really don’t want to get into this. Not right now.” Legend said as he rubbed at his eyes. “Can I check your chest?” He asked and Wild nodded his consent. Legend worked Wild’s tunic up and began to prod at the skin once again. This time Wild tried his best not to make a sound, his mind was racing and curiosity burned through his thoughts. Legend apparently could tell what he was thinking because he sighed and paused in his examination. 

“When you’ve been on as many adventures as I have you’re bound to mess up. It just so happens that my mistake was catastrophic in the extreme. All because I did what I thought needed to be done. In the name of doing the right thing. And no I don’t want to talk about it, it wont fix the things I’ve done and it won’t bring them back.” Legend said quietly and Wild thought he could see tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. He felt Legend’s hands twitch and he tugged Wild’s tunic back down. 

“Everything looks just about the same, I’m going to get Hyrule to see what he thinks.” Legend said his voice barely above a whisper. He made to stand but Wild shot out his hand and grabbed his wrist, he could feel a slight tremor running through Legend’s arm. 

“From one monster to another, don’t let past mistakes define you. They could be used to beat you down later.” Wild said surprising himself with how stern he sounded. He could see Legend’s throat bob as he swallowed. Slowly Legend nodded and Wild finally let his hand fall away. Legend didn’t say another word, only stood the rest of the way and walked off to collect Hyrule. Wild was left to stare off into the quickly darkening sky above him. Lost in thought he watched as the stars bobbed and spun above him. Though he closed his eyes when the motion made him feel sick.    

[slothgiirl]

maybe together we can get somewhere (noah x mc)

the gang finds out noah is alive. he and mc have built a life together while no one was paying attention (12k)

this was fun and experimental to write, trying to build a relationship through the limitations of the gang only getting snippets of noah and mc and hopefully giving enough information to piece together a plot without being to expository. hope u enjoy (noah x mc are soulmates change my mind)

Stacy.

It's a family vacation. Only the second one after her college graduation since she's only living an hour from Westchester.

It's her mom and dad and Connor and his girlfriend and her girlfriend.

Sofi laughs easily, fitting right in at some story Connor is telling and Stacy’s still annoyed that her brother brought up what she and her friends had found in the woods as children when they were at the airport: when anyone could have heard. She doesn't want to deal with it ever again. And she'll get up and move across the country if she has to.

Connor catches her gaze and offers a small smile and just like that; Stacy let's it go.

“Oh a farmers market,” her mom cries out, “we should check it out!”

Her dad laughs, “alright but don't expect me to eat any frankenstein fruit.”

Stacy snorts, finding Vancouver both amazing, and like any other city she's been to. Canada is hardly an exotic travel destination, but it's nice, waking up to a view of the pacific ocean. She wonders if she should visit her old friend since she's in town.

She'd last talked to you on the phone a month ago, surely she could just drop in.

Sofi slides her hand into Stacy’s, before asking, “what are you thinking about?” It's the first time Sofia's really spent time with her family. And her girlfriend knows about her tendency to overthink and now is one of those times.

Stacy's sighs, “just-I have a friend who lives in Vancouver. I was wondering whether I should visit them or not.”

Her girlfriend smiles, leading them into a stall with lots of fruit samples, “You should! If they're your friend I bet they'd be really happy to see you.”

Stacy shrugs. “Yeah, I guess you're right. It's not like I'm going to be in Vancouver again anytime soon.”

She grabs a second sample of the blood oranges, before telling Stacy as she decides to get a few for the road, “so who is this friend?” Because Sofi doesn't know about the whole Redfield thing and she'll never know because Stacy doesn't want to burden her with Redfield and also doesn't want to talk about it herself. It's over: in the past. Finished.

“One of my childhood friends like Lucas. There was this whole group of us,” Stacy explains.

“Like Dan,” Sofi nods, understanding. “Do you guys still talk?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you should totally drop by! Personally, I could skip the biking tour.”

Stacy laughs, “my parents really just got us all the types of tour.” It was nice, how much things had changed and the boat tour had been fun even if she’d gotten pretty cold over those two hours, it had just been the perfect excuse to snuggle up with Sofi and a cup of warm coffee inside. Connor and Vy could be outdoorsy together, taking millions of photos of the water and skyline.

“It’s cute,” Sofi comments, “my dad would just grumble about the expense and lead his own tour, no doubt getting us all lost.”

Stacy shrugs, “that’s why we have google maps.”

Sofi laughs, and pays for her oranges.

Stacy’s tired of the crowded stall, so she steps outside to wait. Canadians may be polite, but there’s only so many people brushing past her she can take. She takes out her phone and asks Lily for your address because of course Lily has it; she had sent everyone care packages and birthday presents without fail. Stacy had just sent an electronic gift card and called it a day.

There’s a good crowd but this isn't a sad little farmers market like the one back home that has like nothing but a stall or two.

She finds that she does miss the small town feel of the city she lives in even if she has to drive everywhere and living close to her family is nice even if she’ll forever hate the woods, any woods. Andy and tom had confirmed nothing was out in Westchester but she won’t chance it.

It’s second nature to go through her emails while she’s on her phone.

She scans the crowd, seeing if she spots her family somewhere. And sure enough Connor and Vy are sniffing at some tea samples, looking disgustingly sweet together and Stacy makes sure to take a picture because she went with Connor and Tom to pick out the ring. He just has to pop the question.

Wait! Was she or Sofi going to ask the question? Oh god, Stacy wanted to marry this girl. It hits her like a ton of bricks and they’re only 23, been dating two years so they have time, but Stacy’s sure. This is the one.

The panic subsides as she realizes, yeah, this is the woman she wants to spend the rest of her life with and that’s no big deal. They’ll take it day by day.

She locks her phone, glances around, ready to go get Sofi who probably struck up a whole conversation with the vendors and is getting invited over to their house for dinner as Stacy stands out here, waiting, and sees. . .well not Noah Marshall because he’s dead. So that’s not possible. And it’s not like she’s in Westchester.

But-but it certainly looks like Noah at a glance.

She can’t actually make out the man’s features, just the back of his head, which wow-Stace, she might just be losing it if she’s starting to see Noah Marshall walking around, but there’s something about the way the man walks and the shade of hair even if the haircut has changed. . .she shakes her head.

She’s imagining things.

“Ready to go,” Sofi asks, putting her hand on Stacy’s arm, “Your mom texted, she said to meet in front of Whole Foods wherever that is. Also, hilarious that there’s a farmers market in front of Whole foods.”

Stacy snorts, nodding, “yeah, let’s go.” And then looks back because it’s been five years and she still wants to kick Noah’s ass even though he’s dead so it’s a non issue at this point.

The man’s gone.

*

Stacy soon forgets among trying to keep up with the itinerary that her family had made on google docs over the past few months.

*

They take a ferry in the general direction of the address Lily gave her because it’s a fun way to travel. Connor comes along but Vy stays behind in the hotel because she wants to call her parents.

“Did they go to school here,” Connor asks, because it had been a few years and he hadn’t really kept in touch with you the way Stacy and the others had.

“No,” Stacy explains as she double checks the address while Sofi points out cute houses as they walk down the street google maps is saying the house is on. “They went to UWash. I think they studied something boring like finance which I know Ava made fun of them in the group chat about.”

Sofi, a current law student, asks, “what’s wrong with finance?”

Connor snorts, “you’re talking about the same woman that helped organize supplies for her campus’ black lives matter protests.”

“Ava’s very anti-establishment,” Stacy explains because Sofi hasn’t met Ava. Her old friend had transferred to Berkeley before Stacy started dating Sofi, but not before showing everyone her minor magical abilities. “You know, the whole break up the banks, give native americans their land back, will definitely end up a granola anthropology professor in some university after her goth phase.”

Sofi nods, “Ah, I get it. She’s not wrong about the banks. Did you watch the big short?”

“You have the most boring taste in movies,” Stacy teases because this woman made her watch Dunkirk which was long and boring and the soundtrack gave her a headache.

Her girlfriend shrugs shamelessly, “I did do a film studies minor so. . .”

Stacy knocks on the door. “I hope they’re in.” It’s a cute if small house on the edge of the city, close enough to still be part of Vancouver without being in the middle of traffic. There’s a subway station just two streets over, but taking the ferry had been much nicer. Subways had lost their charm in new york after all the times Stacy had been an hour or two late because of some issue.

“Wait,” Connor asks, raising a brow, “you didn’t text them?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Stacy admits. She hadn’t seen you in over two years. You had even less of a reason to be in Westchester compared to everyone who’s family still lived there. Your house had sat empty since you left for college.

“I think it's cute,” Sofi says, wrapping her arms around Stacy’s waist from behind.

Stacy smiles, blushing slightly.

The door opens up and holy fuck.

Stacy gasps, her mouth forming a wide O because she can’t even form a coherent thought.

A very much alive and happy Noah Marshall opens the door, wearing a pink apron that says something inane “kiss the cook”, with more than a bit of food stains, and flour on his chin. He’s not wearing a beanie, but it’s summer and Stacy is sweating even in shorts, and his hair is cut and styled instead of long and greasy like it had been in high school. His eye color has somehow changed from brown to a strange shiny blue that seems too catlike to be natural but that’s whatever when he’s apparently risen from the dead.

What the hell!

Connor is just as flabbergasted as she is.

And Noah’s caught off guard, the easy smile dying on his lips as he realizes who’s at the door.

It’s Sofi that spares them, asking Noah if you’re home, because she doesn’t know anything about what went down in your senior year of high school.

Noah nods wordlessly, “yeah, yeah, come in,” even though he looks like that's the last thing he wants to do looking as grim faced as he had been in school, sitting in the back and refusing to talk to anyone.

For once, Stacy wishes Sofi wasn't here because she wants nothing more than to kick Noah’s ass. She took kickboxing lessons, she totally could. Noah's taller, but not exactly built in the same way Andy is after all the years of exercise; though he's not exactly a scrawny teenager anymore.

How long has this been going on?

You're sitting at the kitchen table, a cheap flimsy thing from Ikea that at least has the decency to look nice, laptop open while wearing a moth-eaten oversized t-shirt of the beastie boys. You don't even look up, when you ask nonchalantly, “so who was at the door?” You reach a hand from another chip, eating straight from the bag.

“Stacy,” Noah says faux cheerfully. And Stacy did not miss how annoying he could be. “And Connor Green.”

You finally look up. A couple thousand emotions running through your face: surprise as you open your lips to speak and then close it without a word, your brow furrows as you frown, then you exchange glances with Noah, then you're blushing red as you meet Stacy's questioning gaze, caught red handed. After a second, you can't meet her gaze, instead looking at Connor the same way you had that year as if he could single handedly save you from everything and no wonder you asked him to the dance, oblivious to Stacy's crush on you at the time.

“Hey Connor, long time no see,” you get up, crossing the length of the small kitchen to hug him, “Andy's always going on about you, you know.”  

Connor manages a smile, “it's good to see you, too.”

“Hi, I'm Sofi,” she says, extending a hand, “Stacy’s told me a lot about you.”

You shake her hand, inviting her to down sit, “all of you. Dinner’salmost ready.” You glance at Stacy asking. . .

She shakes her head. Of course she hasn't mentioned Noah. She's tried to erase him from her memories the same way she's tried to forget all about the ruins in the woods and Dan disappearing.

“Not that you helped,” Noah quips, proceeding to slip back into the kitchen.

“Self care.” You smile back, confirming her suspicion that this had been going on for a while. And you haven't mentioned anything. Not once. But then, you stopped bringing him up when you realized everyone was on the same page, the page you weren't, after what he had done, no amount of childhood tragedy could excuse the fact he had been willing to kill all his friends for some monster. Stacy couldn't find it in her to forgive him, even in death.

Meanwhile, you had spent too much time after everything that happened crying over this jerk.

“What are you making,” Sofi asks as Stacy takes a seat, everything clicking together as you offer everyone something to drink, exchanging lovesick smiles with Noah even as he bats you away from the stove with a spatula.

You loved him.

Despite everything he had done, you loved him. Stacy couldn't understand: had been closer to Dan and you than Noah even as kids. The way you looked at him said everything; the way you'd chased after him, unwilling to let him go into the woods alone.

It made sense why you were so willing to forgive him, and why you had spent so much time mourning him.

“Vegetable pot pie,” Noah explains, starting to roll out the dough, “This one decided to become vegetarian.”

“Since when,” Connor asks, deciding to just go along with it all. Maybe Connor was just mentally stronger, better able to cope with all the supernatural weirdness having helped Tom out at the lake, and still trying to understand the power from all of Pritch’s journals.

“Just a few months ago,” you admit. “It was this whole vegan challenge at work for the month but I missed yogurt a lot but giving up meat was pretty easy.”

“Where are you working now,” Stacy asks, taking a seat carefully, making sure not to turn her back on Noah.

“Oh,” you smile, closing your computer, resting your chin against your hand, “UBC, at the anthropology museum. It's why I-we moved here. I do financial analysis for their investments. Ava found it really funny that I got a job at a museum before her.”

“Oh,” Stacy wonders, glancing at Noah again, who's just as tense if the line of his shoulders is anything to go by, and the telling line of his mouth that reminds Stacy of the first and last time she tried to include him: a APUSH presentation that Noah had waved off and preferred to bomb. “You told Ava?”

She feels the sting of hurt but Ava makes the most sense considering you were closest to her and Lily. Not to mention Ava was still messing around with the occult. A heavy lead ball of anxiety always forms whenever Ava has shown Stacy her magic tricks.

You get the double meaning.

Noah pointedly ignores her, carrying a conversation about the best places to eat in the city with Sofi.

You force yourself to smile, “about the job yeah. Thought she'd laugh since she's the anthropologist. She called it the encroachment of late stage capitalism.”

“That sounds about right for Ava,” Stacy snorts.

You'd chosen Noah over her: over your friends. The choice had already been made before Stacy had even known this was an option.

You two were a packaged deal.

Stacy takes a deep breath, and turns her back on Noah, joining the light conversation of local things to do in Vancouver and how you had completely face planted while trying to ice skate.

“-and instead of helping me,” you tease, getting plates out for everyone, “Noah just sat back and laughed!”

“And took a video,” Noah points out. “You don't have any balance babe.”

“I wouldn't do you like that,” you wrinkle your nose, smiling fondly as Noah brings the food out of the oven, the smell filling the small house and suddenly Stacy’s mouth is watering.

“You have,” he replies all mock offended, “you left me in the cab!”

“I was very drunk,” you shrug shamelessly, then turn to Sofi and Connor with an explanation. “Too much fun on  date night.”

“Shut up,” Noah utters, placing the food on the table, looking incredibly soft and it finally sinks in. He's alive. He's alive and you're together and while Stacy doesn't care for him, she's glad you're doing well.

She's still going to punch him the first chance she gets.

The food’s some of the best she's ever had.

*

She hugs you goodbye two hours later: a great big tight hug that says everything she hasn't been able to because of distance. She puts all her love and tenderness into hugging you. “It was so good seeing you,” Stacy says and means it. One day they'll talk about this.

But not now.

She's dragging Sofi into this.

You nod, hugging her back just as tight, before whispering in softly into her ear, “please don't tell anyone.”

And how could she refuse, with your sweet chocolate eyes looking at her like that, as if she holds everything you hold dear in her hands. It's easy for Stacy to make the choice to look away and say nothing.

*

*

*

Lily.

Britney makes them take a hundred selfies before they even leave the airport. Lily beams at the camera even as she pays for starbucks. “Aw man we should've tried tim hortons now that we're officially in Canada.” Lily muses, shooting you a text, letting you know she'd soon be out of the airport.

“But do they have peppermint frappuccinos,” Britney asks, leading the way as they head to the exit. Airports were always so big. It took forever to get anywhere.

“I'm not big on peppermint,” Lily comments even though Britney already knows that, before taking a long sip of her pink drink. She really had been craving a drink. That was another thing about planes: dehydration. Still, it would be worth it to visit you for the first time since you moved to Canada.

“I know,” Britney winks, “that's just more peppermint bark for me.”

*

Britney's the one that spots you first. Lily's taller than you, but still pretty short. “Your loser friends over there.” Britney teases and it shows how far she and Lily have come that they're able to laugh about the time wasted in high school where she bullied other kids including Lily.

Lily follows on her heels, fixing her coat to try and look cute. It had only been a three hour plane ride but it was three hours plus dealing with airport security so it felt closer to three years. Gosh it had almost been three years since she graduated college. Time just flew by.

Excitement bubbles up and Lily’s smiling hard when she sees you in an olive green jacket and grey hoodie combo, still the same as ever if happier now that you weren't stressing about school.

She had meant to visit you sooner but being an adult meant things often got in the way.

Then Lily spots Noah Marshall hovering behind you, laughing at something you just said , face lit up like a kid who's just been told they can finally dig into their Halloween candy. Except it can't be Noah because he's dead. Yet here he is, wearing a black coat, washout blue hoodie, and of course a beanie. If Jocelyn was here, she'd say he looks like an asshole wearing aviators indoors.

Removing any doubt of who he is, Lily having already come up with a reasonable explanation of you having coped with Noah's death by finding a lookalike, dies when he spots Britney and Lily before you. “Lily,” Noah grins as if he didn't die after trying to kill her, “you looked like someone kicked your puppy.”

You smack his shoulder. “Behave,” you tease as you try and smother a gasp. You meet her gaze sheepishly, but Lily's still too flabbergasted to respond.

“Aren't you supposed to be dead,” Britney asks.

He deadpans, “Mandela effect.”

This time, you dissolve into laughter.

Noah glances over at you with a smile, pleased with himself.

Lily finally manages, “explain.”

You nod, “let's get you settled in first.”

Britney hands her bag to Noah, “here. I need to carry Lily's bag.”

“Sure thing,” Noah snorts, taking her bag.

*

Lily had imagined Canada to be much more green. Like a national park green, with so much plant life she could smell it thick in the air, but it's pretty much just another downtown metropolitan area like Seattle. You'd really only moved a few hours away from Seattle so that made sense.

She keeps glancing over at Noah as if he'll disappear and this is some trick from whatever thing still lived in Westchester. But he's still there, flesh and blood, his arm draped around your shoulder as they stand by where she and Britney have taken a seat, bags under their feet. They had only brought carry on bags.

You're obviously together but Lily keeps getting stuck on the fact that Noah's alive.

She isn't surprised. Noah only ever had time for you that year; both of you slinking off when you thought no one was paying attention. Lily remembers seeing you hug Noah in some lonely corner of the school if you didn't skip fifth period math.

And Connor had said he'd seen you both out in town during school hours.

Maybe it's the glasses.

Noah won't be alive to her until she sees his entire face, leaving no room for error.

“Can't believe you're moving to Seattle!” You repeat because yeah Lily had gotten a nice job offer there.

“Neither can I,” Britney complains, “I like SF, and I'd like to live somewhere warm one day. Aren't there any major tech firms in Miami?”

“Nasa,” Lily says thoughtfully, “I didn't have the experience to apply though.”

Her girlfriend frowns, “You went to Berkeley though. That has to count for like ten years.”

Lily laughs.

“You should've shot your shot,” you agree.

“Isn't Florida super humid though,” Noah mentions tilting his head, reminding Lily that he's there and she can't help but flinch. “And there's tons of snakes and agitators everywhere.”

“I like snakes,�� Britney notes.

He had been so sweet those last few weeks, Lily thinks to herself. Noah was always saying how she was much stronger because she could be kind even as everything was going to hell. In english, she'd burst into tears, sick and tired of having nightmares just to wake up to a living nightmare, and he'd chased after her, comforting her.

It had made his betrayal hurt all the more.

*

“So how exactly are you,” Lily asks, dancing around the subject. Surely it was rude to bring up that Noah had been dead.

“Alive,” he replies, quirking his brow, holding Britney's bag as he opens the door.

“Yeah. . .that.”

This time, when you and Noah look at each other, there's no boundless joy that fits in perfectly with the holiday season. You've even put up snowmen in the house's windows, and there's lights wrapped around the porch: off right now. It's just you looking at Noah with glassy eyes and Noah with an amount of tenderness in his eyes that Lily didn't know people were capable of in real life: the look people get when they're finally able to confess how in love they are in movies.

It's only there for a second and then Noah's making light of the whole situation, as if he can't stand to see that haunted look in your eyes, “Well you know what they say, when you wish upon a star-”

You roll your eyes, lightly smacking his arm, then changing your mind and squeezing his arm. “Don't be a dick.” Then you round your attention on Lily, “there's the shoe rack.” Before ushering the group into the living room. “I-I didn't,” you take a deep breath, tugging your coat off as you take a seat on a cheap navy cotton couch. “I guess I never stopped looking for a way,” you glance at Noah, “for a way to fix things. I mean, I still went back there for all the school breaks.”

You've stopped looking at Lily, gaze locked on Noah's. Pink dusts his cheeks and he ducks his head, looking alway, out into the quiet street, skyscrapers in the distance.

Britney purses her lips, listening intently. She heard accounts of this nature from Jocelyn. Dan knee better than to tell her anything about the woods back home.

“And I found it,” you finish without elaboration. Lily understands. Some things were, there were some things too awful to speak once again into being.

He slips his hand into yours, threading your fingers together.

It's sweet and though Lily's reservations remain, it's clear he loves you.

“Okay then,” Britney claps together, knowing full well she was ruining the moment, “how soon can we go shopping. I'm doing all my christmas shopping in Canada.”

“Because of the exchange rate,” Noah sneers, not missing a beat.

“Hardly,” Britney snaps back, “I'm a certified trophy wife now.” She smiles as she looks over at Lily who giggles.

*

It's two in the morning and Lily keeps tossing and turning. It's warm with the heater chugging away in the night. But she can't sleep.

They'd spent the whole day out, exploring the city. You'd gotten a few days off work. Britney had made you both carry bags and bags of gifts as promised.

At least she'd have plenty of time to wrap them. December had only just begun.

But Lily can't sleep.

It isn't the nightmares of her childhood: of Jane and all the things she wishes she had said no to, or those terrible months in which Lily had nearly died from sheer terror, but a pool of anxiety masquerading as restlessness.

She gets up, having visited you before back in Seattle, back when you had shared an apartment with Ava and a revolving door of roommates during college, and wonders if Ava knows. Ava, who messes around in the more supernatural corners of the world, who you had always been closest too.

Lily gets up and decides maybe a glass of water will calm her down as she chews over the idea of Noah and her both under the same roof.

She slips into the dark kitchen, with that weird anxiety that she was sneaking around that she could never shake even knowing that you wouldn't mind her going through your kitchen. She slips into the kitchen and nearly faints at the sight of Noah at the table.

He's sitting in pitch dark.

Only it isn't-

“-your eyes,” Lily hisses, breaking the calm of the twilight hours.

Noah's sitting in the dark reading.

Because his eyes are glowing blue like redfield when she was little and redfield was a friend and hadn't shown it's true nature.

Noah's eyes are glowing.

“Shit,” Noah says gently, reaching up to flip the lights on.

He moves slowly, but Lily still flinches.

“I'm sorry Lils,” he says, those three words encompassing so many years and the darkest parts of her life, casting a shadow over her whole life she can never escape because Westchester is home but it's also where it happened and Noah's a big part of why Lily spent a year having panic attacks: having flashbacks to that awful game. He says it and the last itchy scab over the deep wound Lily has harbored for years flakes off.

Lily does a little nod of acceptance, but keeps her eyes on his unnaturally reflective eyes, a light in the dark.

She swallows thickly.

That glass of water sounds amazing right about now.

“What are you doing reading in the dark,” she asks. It seems Noah had been right all those years ago; Lily was able to keep trying, a flower growing in a crack of cement.

“Studying,” Noah says calmly. “It's pretty boring actually. Sort of makes me wish I was still haunting the woods.” His smile is small, testing the waters.

Lily-she can't. She shits her eyes, shaking her head once, slow.

“Sorry,” he says easily, shutting a thick textbook, “coping mechanism.”

Lily thinks about all those nights she'd wake up in the middle of a nightmare, “is it a glitch then?” She tilts her head curiously, the way she spent hours going over the same file of code checking for any bugs: and mistakes that had slipped through the cracks.

“You could call it that. . .but they reckon that it's more of a give and take situation.” He fiddles with the sleeve of his shirt. “The power takes people but gives them power, and when, when they brought me back, I took something with me.”

For once, dread doesn't fill Lily at the mention of what lies in the woods back home.

Lily nods, and pours herself a glass of water. “What are you studying?”

“Psychology,” Noah answer's, “trying to do developmental psychology. I want to,” he waits a beat before finishing in a rush. “I'd like to be a child therapist.”

“I thought you wanted to go to culinary school,” Lily questions. She remembers you mentioning that once. Then there's the fact that Noah had brought her lunch to school a few times when he'd learned that Lily's parents had forced her into a diet.

“I did,” he shrugs. “Turns out I like to cook for myself more than anything.”

Lily smiles.

She's glad he's able to move on like she has.

“You know I use to have nightmares. Nothing really helped apart from-.”

“Tiring myself out,” you both finish.

Noah smiles grimly.

Lily drinks he water and keeps him company for a while.

*

*

*

Lucas

Logically, Lucas knows that Canada is not that different from the states yet he still feel like the place should be more exotic as he steps off the plane for work. It's grueling work really, the pay is bad and he flies economy more than is healthy for his back, but he likes keeping private corporations on their toes. That was the whole point of environmental science, though going to law school for the same thing is starting to look more and more appealing everyday.

He just feels like he doesn't have the weight to truly go after these people and hates having to pass off the cases when he knows he could do more.

But law school is. . .stressful.

He'd have already started his third year of law if he had just gone straight to law school after undergrad.

Lucas wonders if he's ready to manage that type of stress.

He gets off the plane and has to go directly to the non-profits office. It's a tiny little thing in a rougher part of the city; gone are the shiny sports cars and whole foods.

There's boxes of paperwork dating back from the 60s and he gets to work, drinking the cheap donut shop coffee that the office head, an amicable black man who still has a rhythmic african accent that Lucas isn't worldly enough to place, gives him with a shrug, “got to support our local businesses eh?”

Lucas nods. “Tell me about it. I feel like I missed out on the New York that was happening.” Ava had sent him a buy back the block patch and he really hadn't been surprised because she had always been opinionated and headstrong about it. If she was the town witch, well then she was going to be the biggest baddest witch.

He types a reminder into his notes to get her a souvenir.

He uses yelp to find a cheap diner, where he continues to pour over a thick manila folder--have to break up the work--and finds that he can smell the ocean here even when he can't exactly see it.

Lucas sets a reminder to himself to go enjoy the beach at least once.

Then he sees the reminder to call and ask Stacy where you were living. Lucas half wanted it to be a surprise, but worried he'd miss you.

He knew you liked going out dancing. And he had arrived on a Friday night.

It was unorthodox.

He usually worked strictly in the states since each country had their own laws and environmental precedent established by the courts. And alright, Lucas’ phone had a lot of law school tabs open. He was only twenty four. That wasn't too old for law school.

Weren't some students in legally blonde in their thirties?

Experience could give him an edge.

Lucas calls Stacy but it goes straight to voice mail.

Right, time difference.

He'd have to wait until tomorrow.

Having not exchanged any money as of yet, Lucas pays for his breakfast for dinner with his card and hopes the fee isn't too bad. Then he stuffs the folders and decides to walk to his hotel.

It's an hour long walk through town but years of being incredibly stressed had left him with the purposeful choice of slowing down when he could. Sometimes it felt like forcing himself to slow down, but he always felt better after a walk through a new city or sitting down with a fictional book even when he swore he didn't feel all wound up.

As far as cheap diners, tonight's was good and he had fun trying poutine.

Lucas walks through the tall buildings and wishes he hadn't worn a suit jacket. He should've worn a plain shirt or one of those gag gifts Andy was always sending him from various thrift stores. It might be further up north than even he grew up, but it was still hot in the summer.

Walking an hour in a casual suit was not his greatest idea, but the city carried the same vibrant energy the new york had. The energy that had encouraged Lucas to go to a house party--once.

He's walking by a street full of dive bars all blaring out nostalgic hits from his teenage years from Hannah Montana, which okay, to Kesha which sounded about right, and of course, Blackpink. The chalkboards outside all promise cheap drinks but Lucas isn't a big drinker.

He isn't sure how much of that is avoiding any substance that could get him hooked or if he's making that choice because he really doesn't like alcohol.

Lucas is just about through, about to by a monolithic building that has a bunch of displays in the windows, when he does a double take.

Noah fucking Marshall is smoking on the curb outside a bar, face flushed.

There's no doubt about it. Lucas would know that asshole anywhere. The same sharp jawline and prominent nose, brown hair curling around his ears only a few inches showered than it had in high school. He's wearing dark jeans and a black leather jacket over a white shirt and looking way too happy for a murderer.

Noah Marshall wearing aviators at night like the rat bastard he is!

The intense feelings of rage and wanting to hit something until the world righted itself surges in Lucas’ chest until there's a white hot anger in his throat and red clouding his vision.

He blacks out.

One second he's furiously gapping at the man-

the next

-Lucas is standing over Noah Marshall, knuckles on fire having just sucker punched the fucker.

Oh shit.

Noah looks just as surprised for a second as he looks up, blood beading up where his lips split open.

Lucas watches as recognition hits those bambi blue eyes---wait, blue.. .?

And then Noah shrugs, the ghost of a smile forming on his lips as he states, “yeah. I deserved that.”

There's a couple people looking over.

Lucas is still pissed as Noah gets up, dusting himself off and looking at the barely smoked cigarette on the ground as if he wants to smoke it, before grabbing the glasses and placing them back on instead.

Then, he grabs another cigarette, “want one,” he offers Lucas who no, wouldn't want one: wouldn't want anything from Noah if he was drowning and Noah had the only life jacket.

He was good with drowning.

Thanks.

Lucas, anger still fizzing under his skin like boiling water, asks, “how the fuck are you here!”

Noah shrugs, before slurring and it's then that Lucas realizes the other man is flushed drunk, “I live here,” without an ounce of sarcasm.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Lucas says, curling his lip and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh you know me. I'm just plotting world domination and decided Vancouver would be the perfect location for my evil villain lair. I've got a neon sign and everything.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, grinding his teeth together. ���Do you always have to be such an asshole?”

Noah spreads his hands out and proceeds to do jazz hands, before taking a drag of his cigarette.

Fuck, Lucas feels like punching him again.

He's really thinking about it as he watches Noah, sure the idiot will try something again, when he hears your voice as you stumble out of the bar, “I knew it! You were going out for a smoke break!”

Noah's entire demeanor shifts, no longer the boy Lucas has built up in his head as the cause of all their problems. Over the years, he's decided that Noah had known from the start. In the depths of his denial, Lucas had told himself that Noah had kidnapped Dan. But, you appear, and Noah's turns bright pink as he hurried to stomp out the cigarette you've already seen like a naughty school boy, even as he turns and smiles as if you hung the sun in the sky and painted the night stars. It's lovesick the way you both look at each other with the fondness of ancient couples out for a walk in the park, lost in their own world.

However the fuck he's alive, Lucas realizes that this Noah, the real living Noah, has been just as freaked as the rest of them. It's something he hasn't thought about in years.

Noah had lost Jane.

It's enough for Lucas to unclench his hands even if he's still seething because what the hell, he still offered them all up on a silver platter. Redfield or Jane--whatever it was in the end--had given Ava powers and she hadn't stabbed your group of friends in the back.

You cross the distance quickly, and throw your arms around his middle, tipsy. That's probably why your smile is so pure-untouched by all the trauma and boring adult problems like remembering to pay the bills and having to call the cable company for the fifth time.

You don't even notice Lucas.

“What happened to your face,” you ask, raising your hand to cup Noah's cheek, frowning.

Noah nods over at Lucas.

You finally notice him.

“Lucas,” you wag your finger at him, still cuddled up to the man in question, “You can't punch Noah. Do you know how much trouble I went through to get him back?”

It shouldn't be possible, but Noah turns pinker.

“Aw babe,” Noah teases you with a familiarity that carries depth.

This wasn't a new development then.

“You really do care about me.”

This time, you round on Noah, wagging your finger menacingly, “Don’t be an idiot! Of course I love you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me!”

Which has Lucas majorly side eyeing you.

Sure, Noah had grown up to be tall and not unattractive, as far as pasty white boys were concerned, but he'd still tried to kill everyone.

Noah also looks skeptical.

“What are you doing in town Lucas,” you then ask.

“Work,” Lucas replies blandly, as he tries to come to terms with this reality altering discovery. “You were dead.”

“That's not entirely true,” Noah muses philosophically, “Physically I was dead but technically I was still roaming the woods as a monster.”

Reflexively, you interject, resting your hand on his chest, “you're not a monster.”

“I thought you liked the shape of water.”

Which sends you squealing. “Noah!”

Lucas doesn't get it. You are the strongest person he knows who can talk to anyone and has a sense of determination that rivals a gold medalist: the one who kept everyone together during one of the shiftiest times in his life, and he's who you settle for! “If you have to say technically, you've already lost the argument.”

You snort.

Noah rolls his eyes good naturedly.

“Wait,” you realize, eyes going wide, “does that mean you're younger than me now.”

Noah tilts his head in thought, “physically. . .”

“Pretty sure that means yes,” Lucas adds, wondering how long Noah had been back for.

“Oh my god, I'm stealing from the cradle!”

Noah looks incredibly affronted as he blinks rapid looking down at you like you'd grown a second head.

“You mean cradle robbing?”

“I'm. . .twenty four,” Noah says. Not even he sounds convinced.

“Twenty two,” you correct archly. Then look at Lucas with a friendly smile, “you want to go get pho?”

“Right now!” Lucas checks his watch. It was already midnight. He should've been at his hotel room sleeping by now.

You nod.

Noah elaborates, “it's pricey but the broth hits different. They have some pretty good view of the city too.”

Two years. Noah had been back for two years and you never said anything.

Lucas can put up with Noah for a few hours to spend time with you. After all, you were the one who was putting up with him for life apparently.

“Should we let-,” you begging to ask, amusement dancing in your eyes, city lights reflected in the dark brown hue that had a quality of depth that made it easy to open up to you.

“Nah,” Noah smirks, “Sheer chatted some dude up, they won't even realize-”

“Rahul will though.”

“Psst, it's fine.”

You've both built a life here, far removed from any traces of Westchester. Maybe that's where he had gone wrong. Lucas had been so desperate to escape he's never found a place of his own, and still haunted by his one and only home: a place he wants nothing to do with. He needed to make a new home.

Law school wasn't sounding too shabby.

*

Noah leads the way.

*

A lightbulb turns on.

“What's with your eyes?” Lucas asks.

Noah chuckles, “sometimes you fall into a vat of radioactive waste because that's just the type of luck you have.”

You shake your head, amused. “Side effect. It's nothing serious. We checked.”

That doesn't comfort Lucas at all.

He wonders if Connor or Tom could fix that just to be sure Noah wouldn't suddenly go Redfield on you while you were sleeping.

Ugh, that was one mental image he didn't need.

“So what terrible horrifying government secret are you here investigating and does it have to do with a company hiding vats of radioactive waste,” you ask.

Lucas takes the bait.

He could and has talked people's ears off about the loose regulations on place on waste disposal among an array of industries.

*

*

*

Andy, Dan, Tom

This all starts with two things as far as Tom is concerned. First, they've all been talking for ages about doing a guys road trip after everyone still around Westchester had driven down to visit Ava. Not that the girls weren't fun, Tom thought to himself, but it just sounded nice.

He never had a sleepover growing up so this would make up for that. At least that was the idea.

Then Lucas called Andy freaking out about Noah Marshall and Connor could only nod and go, “yeah he was with them about a year. . almost two since we visited. I think it's already been two years.”

Which was a total mindfuck because why hadn't he mentioned anything.

Why hadn't Stacy?

Tom’s done some research into necromancy and it never ends well which is why they pile into Dan’s prius and hit the road to Vancouver Canada. Sans Connor because Vy is pregnant and Connor is glued to her side. “I think they were dating,” he also adds, bookmarking some cases around New Orleans that scream supernatural activity. That throws everyone for another mind loop as he clues the Pine Springs gang who wasn't there that senior year, why Noah Marshall shouldn't be alive, much less freely walking around. The only person who takes the news relatively well is Dan, who scratches his chin thoughtfully before saying, “that makes sense,” he nods to himself.

Andy rounds on him, ready to kick Noah's ass on sight which Tom will totally back him up on. Tom still can't handle spiders for which Danni and Jocelyn continue to tease him about.

“How in the fuck does that make sense,” Andy seeths, “that motherfucker landed you in a coma! I broke my leg and had to repeat senior year!”

Dan adds, “well you know, they spoke about how tragic his death was. And they used to have nightmares of him dying-”

They all turn to look at Dan.

“What,” Andy says, “when did they tell you that?”

Dan shrugs, “well they were always coming over that year and making a point to spend time with everyone but I always thought they looked sad and thinking about them alone on the edge of town,” he trails off. He’d never brought up your parents absence, but it was clearly felt. “So I went over to theirs when I could,” Dan finishes.

Andy shakes his head, “no. I don’t know what or how, but people don’t just come back from the dead and everything's sunshine and roses,” he crosses his arms against his chest and fumes across the entire state of New York.

Tom has to agree with Andy. There’s nothing in their research to suggest that people can just come back okay. Everything taken by the power ended up twisted into a funhouse version; it never ended well.

They stretch their legs in Cleveland, Andy still scowling. Every now and then he’ll rant about how Noah has to be up to something and he has to go save you from dying. Tom doesn’t bring it up, prefering to let Andy work through it now and wrap his head around Noah Marshall being alive on the car ride up to Canada, but Connor had said Noah’s been back for at least two years--wouldn’t he already have done something? He thinks of you and how you had been alone with Noah at the end. Maybe you had kept some things to yourself.

It was hard to relive trauma aloud.

It made it more real.

Tom sends Imogen a few snaps in Toledo as Andy blasts The White Stripes, to fit his mood.

He wishes Parker had been able to get the days off. Having someone at a distance from the situation might help everyone keep their cool. He knows he won’t stop Andy from beating Noah’s ass.

Dan picks up postcards in Chicago for everyone, as they sit by the famous Bean eating pizza.

“I can’t tell if this is better or if I’m fucking starving,” Andy admits, on his third slice.

Dan snorts, looking up from his lap where he’s writing out the postcards, wanting to send them quickly, “so they make it back before we do.”

Tom takes a walk around the plaza, thinking that fall really was the best weather, cold enough for a sweater without being too freezing and the sun didn’t burn.

They don’t stop in Wisconsin or Minnesota except for gas and Mcdonalds.

Andy sleeps as Tom takes over the driving.

Dan’ll be up next.

“Please play something other than Beach House,” Tom complains at Dan, “this is going to make me fall asleep.”

Dan chuckles, “Its good night driving music.”

“No Dan,” Tom shakes his head with a smile

The sun rises, and Tom gets to sleep.

He wakes up in Rapid City, South Dakota and they have to recreate that awful Hilary Clinton, “just chilling in Rapid City,” Andy says mockingly.

Dan almost chokes on his coffee.

Montana is so fucking beautiful and Tom’s seized with the sudden urge to come live out here. “We could totally do it,” he tells the other men, “it’s cheap out here. We could buy a huge piece of land and never have to deal with any bullshit again. Our friend group could do it. Danni’s really handy and Lily could set us up with wifi!”

“Bro,” Andy says gravely, “you know I love you, but I’m not moving to Montana with you.”

Dam smiles softly, “Danni would have a field day taking pictures here.”

Montana is beautiful and green and none of the nature here has that heavy feeling the woods in Westchester do, but they’re tired and exhausted from being on the road for the last two days. They crash at a motel 8 and sleep for the next twelve hours.

*

They ask this beautiful woman who's wearing birks and has a tote bag emblazoned “love your mother” with a planet earth painted on, to take a picture of them in front of Pike Place Market. Dan has her number before Tom’s done sending the pictures to his Pine Springs groupchat, teasing Parker about having stayed behind to yell at teenagers smoking weed while driving boats around the lake: accidents waiting to happen.

Tom has never been to Seattle.

He knows most of his friends from Westchester have  to visit you or Ava, and he's grown close to Ava, but at the time he was more of a friend of a friend and so never flew up to Seattle.

“Is it lame I'm still tired,” Andy asks, as they find a park to sit down at. It felt so good to be able to lay in the grass instead of sitting cramped up in the car.

“Age is starting to hit us.” Dan muses. “Either of you want to come get some things with me.”

His friend snorts, “Haven't you gotten enough gifts for everyone?” Which, yeah, Dan has been accumulating a small horde of souvenirs in the back for all his friends. He's a thoughtful guy. Tom’s not surprised the man’s a nurse. If he'd had Dan as a nurse when he was a kid, he might not completely hated going to the doctors office.

“I was kinda thinking about getting something from every state,” Dan says, blushing red as he rubs the back of his neck.

“I think it's sweet,” Tom says, clasping a hand on the other man's back. “Cheesy, but sweet.”

Andy shakes his head, “we should've gotten there by now. If only we hadn't stopped in Montana-”

“Noah's not going anywhere,” Dan points out, “you can kick his ass tonight or tomorrow.”

“They know we’re coming,” Andy scowls, “He could be halfway around the world by now.”

“Just remember Lucas already sucker punched him,” Tom offers his friend as consolation.

Dan shakes his head a little, but stays silent. Tom hasn't been able to get Dan’s feelings on the whole situation. He can’t imagine him being completely ambivalent or cool with Noah getting off scot free, but then again, Tom doesn’t know every little detail.

No one talks about it in detail even in their little power club that Connor and him started up.

He gets it.

It’s not something anyone wants to linger on.

And he understands better than most.

His monster was different, but no less horrifying.

“I’ll go with you,” Tom offers Dan, because this is a new city and even though the point is to go see what's up with Noah, and make sure he isn’t still the shadow monster he was the last time Tom saw him, he still wants to make the most of it.

“Two hours,” Andy says with a warning. “Two hours or I leave you in Seattle.”

“Sure, sure,” Tom shakes his head. Andy would never do them like that.

“If you’re coming we should go to the space needle,” Dan says thoughtfully, taking out his phone to begin google mapping the places he wants to hit up.

“Two hours!” Andy calls back from where he’s watching a couple people play basketball.

*

Tom discovers he has a thing about heights as they ascend via an elevator. It’s a slow day and the elevator operator talks him through it, telling him all sorts of bad puns and more information about the space needle then he can remember. “Sarah Palin came by the other day,” the woman who looks to be about their age with green ringlets and a friendly smile that doesn’t seem to be forced like most customer service workers smile (smile through the pain), “and she said she could see Alaska from here! Get it?”

Tom tries to smile, but yeah, he’s never doing this again. “Did you see the masked singer with Sarah Palin?”

The girl nods, “how the mighty have fallen. You think there's an alternate universe where she was vice president and insead Joe Biden’s on Dancing with the Stars?”

Tom’s laugh dies in his throat as the elevator jolts to a stop. It certainly feels like a huge jolt, but that may be his anxiety making everything elven times worse.

“Well thank you for riding air force two,” she salutes as Tom finally steps into the platform.

Sweet, sweet relief.

He sort of has to go take a picture or two off the viewing platform. He’s made it this far.

“She was totally into you,” Dan says, stepping in to take Tom’s mind off things.

“Was not.”

“Totally was.”

Tom rolls his eyes, “she was just being nice.”

“Sure man, sure. But she was.”

*

They arrive even later than Andy had predicted. It’s midnight and proof that they had dallied in Seattle for two long. This is the first time Dan has ever left the country so of course they stop and take pictures.

And then they stop and eat at the cute little cabin lodge just off the highway.

And even Andy forgets about the Noah business.

They pull into the street, disappearing from the city in the turn onto the street. It’s crazy how much of a difference a street can make. A little quiet row of houses tucked under the twinkling lights of the city lights.

Your house is a small one story thing, clearly an older home from before cookie cutter houses came into fashion, and with a certain amount of charm even with the dead plant by the doorstep: closer to a cottage than a house like something out of Snow White. There’s even a ouija board doormat that Tom thinks is completely in line with your humor and probably Noah’s as well. He just doesn’t remember much about Noah when he was alive. Last time Tom saw Noah, Noah was saying sorry to the birds. People could change.

Right?

It’s not like Noah had gone all Zodiac Killer on his friends.

The lights are off and Tom feels kind of bad that he’s about to wake you up, but he also really wants to crash in an actual bed.

Dan knocks on your door as Andy paces behind Tom.

A minute later, you peak your head out the door. Your navy blue sweater is cuffed around your hands, clearly meant for someone taller, helping to stave off the autumn chill, and grey flannel pajama pants. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand as you yawn. “You’re here,” you smile and hug Dan with one arm, “do you need any help with the bags.”

“The bags can wait until tomorrow,” Dan answers for the group, “I just want to sleep in a real bed.”

You snort, “don’t actually have a guest room,” you admit, keeping your voice down as you usher them all inside, “but I do have a pretty comfortable pull out couch and way too many quilts. I have to stop going to Victoria Island.”

Andy looks around, tense.

Tom’s a little surprised when you hug him too. “Want any food? There’s a ton of leftovers. Noah’s been stress baking. He has a bunch of exams this week.,” you say with such casualness.

“We already ate,” Dan offers, “there was this cool looking log cabin that sold me on pumpkin spice muffins.”

“Where is Noah,” Andy asks, cutting right to the quick.

You look at him pointedly as you explain, “he went to sleep early. He’s got school at like 7 am. I have no clue why. . .college was all about afternoon classes for me.”

Andy wisely, let’s it go for the moment.

You show them where things are, the couch is already extended. The TV’s sitting on a pile of textbooks with a nintendo switch right next to it.

Tom is out before his head hits the pillow.

*

They wake up and eat the promised leftovers as you rush to find the spare key to leave with your friends before you too have to go to work. “I would've asked for the day off like I did for the rest of the week,” you hastily explain, filling the electric kettle with water, “but it was Maureen’s birthday and I would’ve felt like such a dickhead.”

You make Dan promise to come look through the Museum you work at before it closes, and then you’re running off with a tumbler full of tea, putting a hand through your hair as if that’ll save it from looking like a mess. Tom’s unsurprised at your easy nature when they’re all imposing, making no secret of the real reason they had driven all the way to the other coast of North America.

Andy conducts a walkthrough of the house, leaving the sole bedroom of the house alone.

Dan shakes his head, flipping through the TV channels, before logging onto your netflix account, the most recent show having been played was Avatar the Last Airbender. “Anything you want to watch?”

“The good place,” Tom offers, “everyone’s always saying it's good.”

Dan shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have netflix.”

Andy comes back with a picture frame clutched in his hand, “He’s such a dick!” Red seeping into his neck as he fumes.

Tom looks over at the picture, but it’s just a photo any normal couple would have hanging around their house: a blurry polaroid of you and Noah, each with a red solo cup at some house party, with the date, over a year ago, written on the border. He gets it, he does. And Andy’s his friend, so he nods.

Dan on the other hand, “okay. . .”

Andy disappears back down the hall. “I just don’t understand how they kept this from us! I mean-after what he did!”

Tom nods the same way he always had when his dad would start lecturing him in japanese even though his japanese is limited to whatever the japanese equivalent of Dora the explorer teaching spanish is.

“Probably so we wouldn’t freak out,” Dan offers, not looking away from the screen.

Andy marches back into the living room with a deep set frown, “Noah was fine offering us up to that monster and now they’re here playing house like nothing ever happened.” He sits down next to Tom, head in his hand. “I just don’t get it.”

He clasps a hand on Andy’s shoulder in comfort.

“Maybe they just wanted to forget as much as we did,” Dan notes quietly. “Some of us left and never really went back.” He’s talking about Lily and Lucas, who only visits during the holidays, then there’s Ava out in Arizona, busy doing field research and only going to Westchester in between jobs. Dan’s an hour away, a world away, near Stacy.

It’s really just Andy and Connor who stayed.

He’s in Pine Springs, a good hour to the west of Westchester.

“He died,” Andy grumbles out, “it could’ve easily been them, or any of us, or all of us. We’re lucky no one else did.”

Dan frowns, looking over at Andy, “I don’t like this anymore than you do. I’m not jazzed that Noah’s been back for years and we just found out. But I trust their judgement.”

“Necromancy is serious business,” Tom says, breaking the staring contest that’s started between the two friends.

*

Noah’s at least a little bit of a coward, as he saunters up to them, running a hand through his hair as he takes a seat at the table.

You had said this diner had the best malai kofta in the neighborhood.

He’s resting expression is still skewed towards sour, even as there’s other noticeable changes from the Noah Tom remember’s who’d kept to himself in school. His hair cut into a flattering undercut, clothes no longer on the angsty scruffy side but still decidedly casual as he opts for a dark palette, and of course, the blue eyes that seem to glow even in the afternoon light Lucas had mentioned in great detail. Noah’s clean shaven and lean, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

He only spares Tom a second’s glance before he focuses in on you, his lips quirk-ing up in a small smile. Sitting down, you lean forward expectantly as he plants a kiss on your cheek by way of greeting, before saying, “C’s make degrees right?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “but you did fine so it doesn’t matter. I ordered you the chicken and waffles. That’s what you usually get right?”

“Actually,” Noah starts, clearly about to tease you.

You shove his shoulder lightly, “beggars can’t be choosers.”

Dan extends an olive branch, “hey Noah.”

Which Andy immediately shoots down, “so it’s true.”

Tom’s only glad they’re already sitting and yeah, Noah’s a coward for meeting them in public, not that it had stopped Lucas from sucker punching him. It probably won’t stop Andy, only he’s sandwiched in between Dan and Tom and there’s no way Dan is getting up and out just so Andy can punch Noah. That’s not the kind of friend Dan is. Dan’ll take someone away to cool off, sprouting lines about being the bigger person, but Tom thinks that sometimes a punch is well earned.

Noah nods, sobering up, rating his arms on the table. “Yeah. It’s still. . . it’s still a trip nearly four years later.”

You cover his hand with yours, giving Noah’s hand a squeeze.

Now that they’re here with Noah, a burst of curiosity that’s been brewing in the back of Tom’s mind finally surges forward. “Do your eyes always glow? Or is it light a cat’s iridescence and that’s why you can read in the dark?”

“Gee, let me give you the paperwork the doctor diagnosed me with after I explained that my sister became a shadow monster and I came back to life. He was super nice and helpful about everything. We really don’t pay doctors enough.”

Andy rolls his eyes, “So are you still a monster or not.”

Noah frowns, before leading forward, gripping a glass of ice in hand pointedly, lifting it off the table, watching his own action with a sad fascination, “you can’t begin to imagine how nice it is to be solid again--to be more than a lingering ghost who can barely remember who it used to be.”

Which doesn’t answer the question but--

Some monsters were all too human for comfort. And some monstrous beings ended up friends and allies back in Pine Springs.

*

You and Dan walk up ahead arm in arm, chatting about everything from how cozy ll bean’s wool socks were to how you wanted to branch out and leave your job but it just couldn't be a bank, working in a cubical all day seemed like a death sentence. Dan fills you in on the news from back home and you both catch up as you walk at a leisurely pace back to your home.

Somehow, Noah manages to be patient as Tom rattles off question after question.

“Do you remember much?”

“What was it like coming back?”

“Can you do any magic thought,” he purses his lips in thought, “that doesn’t tell us much, since Ava’s out there levitating feathers.”

“Are any of your other senses better?”

“Do you have any other changes after coming back?”

“Can you speak to animals now?”

“Do you ever get a craving for human flesh?”

“Your limbs don’t fall off or anything? Right?”

“You have all your memories back?”

“Do you ever see any ghosts?”

“Can you see ghosts?”

Noah answers them patiently, if amused, as Andy skulks behind, clearly listening in on the conversation.

“How did they bring you back,” Tom finally asks, having spent countless nights researching necromancy. It had crept up in the Pine Spring’s society books, journals detail all sort of gorey accounts of their attempts to harness the power to gain power over the dead and living, but none of it had ever amounted to anything. At least in the best case.

One member had rotted away from the inside out, black mold blooming in his lungs, incurable as he choked to death after trying to raise a simple cat from the dead.

Noah tenses up, glancing over to where you’re laughing as Dan does a spot on Bernie impression about how it’s time to once again, “ask for a The man from U.N.C.L.E. sequel,” before meeting Tom’s gaze again. “You’ve formed a little club to keep the power away from people right?”

He nods, “I just-I don’t want more people to go through what we have,” he explains. They had to be proactive and learn so that no one else would stumble upon the power and exploit it to violent ends. Ava’s magic wasn’t derived from the power. Tom had double checked that. Ava’s magic was her own through her own sheer will.

But the power-that was something else entirely.

He swallows thickly.

Nothing had happened so far. And he couldn’t tell if their plan was working, or if they had gotten lucky. It had been a handful of years. But then, a decade had passed between Jane Marshall’s death and her awakening.

“And no one else ever will,” Noah says forlornly.

“Explain,” Andy says, walking up on Noah’s other side.

The man looks up at you, as you and Dan wait by the street corner for the rest of the group to catch up, and he shakes his head. “All you need to know is the power won’t be a problem again.”

*

Tom runs the problem over and over in his mind as they explore Vancouver and Andy continues to get digs in at Noah while Noah lets him.

*

He thinks about it as Andy makes everyone watch #Alive. And then Dan reminds them how obsessed everyone was with Inception when it came out. And Tom thinks about Noah’s words. And then you suggest watching something lighter: Zoolander.

*

Tom plays Noah’s words over in his head as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to Andy’s snores.

*

He puzzles over what Noah meant, why he didn’t want to bother you with it, as he drives back across the continent.

*

The power takes.

*

The power gives.

*

He gets it as they stop for gas in New York.

*

Oh, you really must love him.

*

*

*

Ava

Ava walks into Tom’s house out in Pine springs. It’s summer and she’s ready to spend the entire week swimming and continuing the search for a black lipstick that won’t stain. Fenty came pretty close.

There’s tons of cars in the driveway and she knows she’s the last one to get there; she always did like an entrance.

She tries the doorknob before knocking, hearing the laughter and conversation carry outside. The house is unlocked so she lets herself in; she likes to make entrances, guilty as charged, before following the sound of voices into the back porch overlooking the lake.

Tom had lucked out in buying this place during the summer the lady of the lake terrorized the town.

She’s frozen in shock when she sees Noah sitting with everyone like he hasn't been dead for over eight years. He’s sitting with an arm around you, beer in his other hand, talking with Lily, in a faded AC/DC shirt and dark jeans despite the heat.

Ava pinches herself to make sure she isn’t dreaming.

“Ava,” Lily cries, spotting her, “you’re here.”

“What the fuck!”

Realization dawns on your face as Noah looks over at the resident goth chick who’s withered into a refined goth woman, less fishnet and more victorian mourning shirts paired with flared black and white leggings, for the first time in eight years and seven months.

“Hey Ava,” he says, lifting his hand up in greeting from where it’s resting on your shoulder.

Your face heats up, as you look at Ava, realizing you’d never gotten around to telling her. Not when you’d visited her for Thanksgiving even though she refused to participate in a propaganda holiday that “perpetuates colonialism” or the time last year when you’d gone to support her big lecture at UMississipi. It had never seemed the right time and now the time to calmly explain was gone.

“Someone explain before I light him on fire,” Ava utters, feeling heat grow in her fingertips. It was easy after years of practice. She was toying with the idea of buying a house in Salem.

Noah doesn’t even flinch.

How could he, having grown up with Jane for a sister that had gone around filling people shoes with mud and shoving people into pools with a laugh. That girl had been fearless, and Ava has long thought if she’d been an inch more scared, you and Jane never would have gone into those ruins.

It almost warms Ava’s cold dead heart.

Ha.

If Ava had sometimes been the third wheel with you and Jane, then Noah had been the ugly duckling waiting for a scrap of attention because Jane shone bright, a sunflower soaking up light, thriving on attention. Maybe Noah hadn’t been all that bothered to let his sister take the lead as kids, even as he grumbled about the trouble they were sure to get into, but neither Marshall twin had cared about anyone’s attention more than yours.

Jane had always been a limpet, her hand in yours.

Ava had been too independent even at nine to always go along with Jane, or want a friend that close.

But you didn’t just go along with Jane, you encouraged her, and dragged Noah along when Jane got too caught up in her made up games to remember to play nice. Noah who even at nine seemed clued into the fact that you were hurt that your parents were never around, something that never occurred to Jane.

So she’s not surprised that Noah and you are a thing.

Figures.

You’d kissed more than one white boy that could vaguely pass for Noah if you had enough to drink in college even if you had only dated twice and neither had been Noah Marshall knockoffs.

It’s glaringly obvious in hindsight.

What she doesn’t get is how he’s alive.

And everyone’s just cool with it.

“I thought you already knew,” Dan says.

Lily looks at you, “didn’t you tell Ava first?”

You raise a brow, “I thought Lucas told everyone?”

Lucas shrugs, wearing a suit in the summer, “I did. I just figured Ava already knew”

Stacy sips her cocktail, “awkward.”

“Wow,” Noah jokes with a grin, “you guys are terrible friends.”

Andy almost chokes on his beer, sending Noah a look that would’ve made Medusa jealous.

Danni shakes her head, “too soon dude, too soon.”

Maybe she should move into Cora’s old house. That way she could keep up with her friends' news.

How the hell did she miss Noah coming back to life.

That was metal as fuck.

She and you would have words about keeping secrets.

“Just give me the strongest drink you can make,” she says with a shake of her head, taking a seat next to Imogen, the resident mixologist.

[yentotajaan]

Repercussions II: Wasp’s Nest

Yen’to wandered up to the library with a sense of foreboding. The reason for the meeting was unclear, but with Khan anything was possible. As he entered the library proper, he spied Strega and Khan already present. Damn... thought I would have some moments of peace to prepare for the drunken rambling that is sure to ensue. They engaged in a bit of small talk as they waited, much to Yen’to’s annoyance, but it was not long before the others who saw the posting started filtering in. Annoyance shifted rapidly to surprise at the steadily increasing number of attendees: Alyona, Alaric, Kouronne, Silf, Luka, Ghost, Lalatua, and Ramius. A mixture of new and old employees.... but Alaric does not even work for Lady Faye, does he? How did Khan rope him in? 

The lingering questions were soon cleared up -  Ramius indicated that he was the one that called the meeting rather than Khan. Oh good... maybe this time the briefing will actually be coherent. A strange screen popped out of a device on Ramius’ back, some sort of video feed from one of his drones that apparently captured sight of a suspicious person frequently loitering in the hills around the Shroudrose. Ramius wanted everyone to go out and attempt to find, capture, and interrogate the suspicious target. There were transmissions that potentially linked him to Garleans. I would say this sounds easy enough, but every time I have said that the complete opposite was true. Nothing involving Khan is every that simple.

As they began leaving the Shroudrose grounds, it was not long before Ramius spotted someone suspicious on a path up a nearby hill, leaning against a tree. At his suggestion, they split up to approach from different directions and hopefully catch the person in a pincer. Yen’to took about half of the group while Ramius took the remainder, and upon his signal they approached a visibly panicking miqo’te. He could not be more suspicious even if he was trying...

The unlucky miqo’te was sweating and fidgety, and cracked under pressure almost immediately. As he was not so gently prodded for answers, some in the group began remarking that they smelled smoke. That is odd... did something spark out in the forest? It is not storming, though. The sounds of bells clanging and shouts from Wood Wailers began filtering in from the south, where smoke was streaming into the sky. What in the... that looks like houses are on fire! Before anyone could figure out exactly what was happening, the twang of bows being drawn nearby forced everyone to take cover. Arrows loosed found their target easily - the poor panicking miqo’te spy. Strega and Alyona attempted to keep him alive while Yen’to and Kouronne returned fire with their gun and bow.  Their targets were dressed like Wood Wailers, complete with wooden masks. Oh no... saboteurs?!

The two saboteurs went down quickly, a bit too dead to question. Ramius began picking up strands of chatter from the wounded spy’s linkshell, prompting him to scan for aether currents with his goggles. I swear, that man has a gadget for every occasion. The linkshell chatter made it clear that they were dealing with Garlean infiltrators. Yen’to barely had time to absorb this information before Ramius pointed them north. The band cautiously made their way forward before pausing at a bend in the path.

Half a dozen arrows whizzed by, forcing everyone to press up against the hill just before the bend in the path. Yen’to, Ramius, and Kourunne ran out to fire back at the archers, easily cutting the ambush short. Or so they thought. A shout came from the bushes nearby to “cut down the savages”, and more ‘wood wailers’ leapt out, flanking the party and trapping them in the middle of the path - lancers in the rear and more archers in the front. Damn it -- with the actual guards distracted by those fires we are on our own!

The fighting was brief but brutal. Yen’to yelped as an arrow embedded itself into his leg above the knee, avoiding the armored greaves he hoped would have protected him. Buckling down, he managed to level his rifle and return fire, felling his attacker. Most of the others managed far better, and the Garleans soon came to realize that underestimating tea house employees was a surprisingly bad idea. Lalatua used both fire and ice magic to great and terrifying effect, while Luka ended up burning and melting one of the wooden masks into a hapless soldier’s face. 

The other Garleans fell one by one, but they managed to also injure Alyona before being defeated. Most of the ambushers were dead, but a few laid wounded and moaning. As with the spy, Alyona called Khan over the linkshell to gather the wounded Garleans. Hmph, I say let them bleed out... but the dead do not give up secrets. Once again, Ramius utilized his goggles to pick up the trail and the group rushed in the direction of the ferry docks. Or all but Yen’to rushed, who could only do a hurried limp at this point.

As they approached the docks, they could see the Garleans’ sloop shrinking in the distance as it sped away. There was only one remaining boat at the docks,  with a goblin skipper drinking away the day nearby. He seemed wary at first of the anxious group, but a bag full of gil changed his tune. He promptly called over his own linkpearl to Khan that he was taking a break and that Khan could go fook himself. Oh gods -- this is Khan’s ship?!

The little sloop had seen better days, and seemed to be held together by little more than rusty nails, rotting boards, and pure hope. ... Do I also smell liqour? It had a black flag emblazoned with red glasses, reminiscent of the pair worn by Khan. A kobold on deck gave them a happy little wave and nonchalantly returned to swabbing the deck.  This... both makes complete sense and is utterly stupid. At the urging of Lalauta and Strega, Yen’to sat down to take the weight of his injured leg. Strega once again took the opportunity to stab him with a magitek medical device, despite their previous discussion about advance warnings. At the direction of Ramius, the others grabbed what they could to use as oars and employed aero magic in an attempt to catch up with their targets.

‘Their’ ship came within a few dozen yalms of the Garleans before a shout came from behind some rocks in the river, and another boat slipped out and sped in their direction. Seven hells, how many ambushes are we going to stumble into?! The party braced for impact, and the two boats soon collided and locked into place. Belting out war cries, the Garlean boarding party swarmed onto Khan’s floating coffin.

Yen’to had managed to stand by this point, and upon seeing a saber swinging his way he managed to block it with his armored gauntlet, then returned the favor by slamming the butt of his rifle into the man’s head like a club. Alaric had ripped off one of the boards from the deck to use as a makeshift weapon; a vhan below deck looked up through the hole and simply returned to whatever it was doing.  Uh... I hope that bit was not important. Ramius finished off the remaining Garleans with his quick-firing pistol, and managed to free the boats by cutting entangled ropes. 

Upon arriving at shore, they were met with a scene of carnage. Dockworkers and a few Wood Wailers were crumbled on the ground, seriously wounded but not yet dead.  A jumble of tracks led deeper into the woods. Alyona once again used the linkshell to inform Khan that there were wounded that needed tending, but his response was a complaint that it would take a while because someone had stolen his boat. ... Oops? Well, that is what he gets for being sloppy! One of the injured workers confirmed where the Garleans fled, and the group was soon hot on their heels.

The party caught up to the remaining Garleans soon enough, who were busy at work doing something near a patch of trees. They did not have long to observe the enemy before being spotted, and a Garlean officer called for his troops to form up. They did so with alarming speed and precision, and soon let loose a fusillade of bullets from their gunblades. Thankfully, their aim was not as precise as their formation but a few in Ramius’ group were still hit. Damn it... if I die here I am killing Khan!

The gloves were off now, and no mercy was to be given. Yen’to finally activated his machinist aetherotransformer and spewed a gout of flame from the end of his rifle towards an unfortunate clump of Garleans. The others did not hold back either, letting loose with their fiercest techniques to utterly obliterate their targets in a storm of explosions and fire. I almost feel sorry for the bastards.... almost. As the smoke cleared, it was made apparent what the Garleans had been concerned with - a secret door leading underground. 

Cautiously, the group made their way into the underground store room. It was unlit and barely any light made its way inside. Yen’to’s moon-keeper eyes quickly adjsuted to the darkness, but few of the others were so lucky. Lalatua used some aether to light up her staff, and what it revealed gave everyone pause.

There were numerous desks and cabinets filled with papers, and posters and flyers covered the walls alongside maps. Almost in a stupor, they fanned out to dig through the papers to figure out exactly what they were dealing with. It was worse than suspected. On the largest desk, there was a stack of flyers with names and brief descriptions, many from previous missions with Khan:

Faye Covington, Silf Silverwood, Mocking Bird, Yen’to Tajaan, Elyn Merielle, Mako, Strega, Deccan, Ramius Raske, Khuron Khan.

By the Twelve.... these are signed by tribunus Lucian. He knows so much! How?! Aside from Lucian’s signature, there were directives commenting on multiple phases and local assets. Some of the other posters had vaguely familiar sketches, but were lacking descriptions. Sensing time was of the essence, everyone gathered whatever they could carry and made haste back to the Shroudrose to disseminate the information later and lick their wounds.

All this from one little information gathering mission that went sideways almost a moon ago. If the Garleans do not kill us, Lady Faye just might.

https://yentotajaan.tumblr.com/post/635629242574602240/repercussions

@tough-bit-of-fluff​

@ramius-xiv​

@fair-fae​

@eorzeanharmony​

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Big Damn Heroes

A Supernatural / Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover! 

Characters: Sam, Dean, Cas, Charlie, Buffy, Willow, Spike, Xander, Giles, Anya, Faith

Word Count: ~4930

Warnings: Flirting, play-fighting... it’s sexy but not smutty. 75% banter, 20% geeky references. (No, seriously, SO MANY. If anyone can spot all the easter eggs/quotes from Supernatural, the Whedonverse, and beyond, I’ll give you a cookie.) 

A/N: For @impala-dreamer​ and @deanwanddamons​, and the I Do Understand That Reference Challenge! I’ve been wanting to write a SPN/BtVS crossover since I first started watching Supernatural; I’ve been imagining some of these character interactions for a while. Thanks for giving me an excuse to finally do it! 

Major thanks to @stunudo​ and @thoughtslikeaminefield​ for the reading and cheerleading. This was the most excited I’ve been about writing in a hot minute and I was so happy that you guys were excited to read it. 

This bears very little resemblance to either show’s canon/timeline. No Dawn, no Tara. Just go with it. 

“Okay, stand super still for me?” Charlie asks apprehensively. She twiddles a few knobs on the gadget she’d built, and a little fan of laser beams shoots out one end. She points it at Dean, who grimaces and shields his junk protectively as the lights sweep up and down his body. 

Sam rubs at the tension headache that’s developing between his eyes. “You sure about this?” 

“No?” Charlie says, voice squeaking slightly, and Sam’s headache throbs again. “But… I think so. It should work. I don’t think you understand how ridiculously complicated this whole thing is.” 

“You are bringing their alternate selves here from an entirely different universe,” Cas says skeptically, arms crossed as he looks critically at the scene. “There are a lot of variables at work.” 

Charlie points the device at Sam and scans him as she nods firmly. “Yes. Thank you. What Cas said. What’s the worst that can happen, right?” 

Sam raises his eyebrows and sees Dean and Cas making near-identical expressions of disbelief. 

“Right. Probably not a good thing to ask around here, huh? You guys are like the living embodiment of Murphy’s Law. I don’t think I’m gonna, like, blow anything up though, so that’s something!” Charlie cuts off her own nervous babbling and takes a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing.” 

Sam's ears start to ring, and he feels a tug somewhere in his chest. The bunker fuzzes and fades around them. 

The last thing Sam hears is Cas saying flatly, “Well that can’t be good.” 

***

Dean’s drawing his gun before the room even comes into focus, fighting a dizzying surge of nausea. He looks around wildly, turning to scan his surroundings. There’s a redhead in an eye-poppingly colorful sweater sitting on the couch, looking at him open-mouthed; a cute, tiny blonde at her side; a cozy, utterly suburban living room; and most importantly, a total lack of Sam, as far as he can see, and that’s a problem. 

“Whoa, hey, take it easy,” the blonde says sharply. “Drop the gun.” She’s standing, coming toward him with her hands raised, and she’s clearly not a threat, but Dean’s not letting his guard down yet. He eases his finger off the safety but keeps it pointed at her. 

“Where’s my brother?” Dean snaps. 

“You just Apparated into the middle of my house, buddy, how ‘bout I ask the questions?” she says, unfazed. Which. Fair. Dean lowers the gun slightly. 

The second he starts to relax, the blonde is whipping around like a goddamn ninja and kicking the gun out of his hand. She settles back into a fighting stance, looking way more serious than anyone wearing sparkly lip gloss has any right to look. Dean’s so stunned he doesn’t even try to fight back; he stares for a second, torn between the urge to pull his other gun out of the back of his pants, just to make a point, and the urge to propose on the spot, because wow. 

“Um, hi, answers now?” the redhead says, still sitting on the couch, staring incredulously. 

Dean takes a deep breath. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m pretty sure this was a fuckup of gigantic proportions. Where am I? Who are you? How did you…” 

“Sunnydale, Buffy, and mystical forces-of-evil-fighting Slayer powers,” she rattles off, with a little smile at the look of astonishment on his face. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” 

“Buffy?” Dean says, smirking, and she raises an eyebrow. 

“That’s really not the part most people fixate on,” she says bemusedly. There’s a phone ringing somewhere in the next room, and Buffy shouts without taking her eyes off Dean: “Xander? Would you get that?” 

“I’m not most people.” 

***

“Yes, quite. We’ll be right over,” Giles says, and he hangs up before turning back to Sam with a long-suffering expression. “Your brother is safe and sound. I’ll take you to him and we can try to sort this mess out.” 

Sam lets out a long sigh of relief, following Giles to the door. He looks down at his phone again as Giles locks up, but it still displays “no signal.” Sam frowns. 

“Where are we?” he asks. 

“Sunnydale, California.” Giles leads the way to a tiny European car. Sam has to fold up like a pretzel to get in the passenger seat. 

He watches out the window as Giles drives, frowning to himself as he tries to figure out why they’re here of all places. He’d been so busy with the whole Apparition thing that he didn’t question Giles’s initial reaction to a stranger materializing in the middle of his living room, but his expression had definitely been more resigned and exasperated than astonished, like maybe this sort of thing happened to him a little too often. 

“Is there such a thing as magic in this world?” Sam says, with a sneaking suspicion that he already knows the answer. “Or… ghosts? Demons?” 

Giles blinks a few times. “Magic, yes. Demons, quite. Ghosts… not that I’m aware of, but stranger things have happened on a Hellmouth, I’m sure.” 

“A what?” 

“Hellmouth. Sunnydale sits on top of a literal gate to hell, and as such, there is a convergence of mystical energy here. It tends to draw monsters and… well, general disaster.” Giles sounds like he’s repeated this little speech a few times before. 

“Averted any apocalypses lately?” Sam asks wryly, and that does get him a very polite, British expression of surprise. 

“Well, yes. A few, as a matter of fact. Buffy does stay busy.” 

“Buffy?” 

“Yes, the friend I called when you arrived. The Slayer. Do they have one of those in whatever world you’re from?” 

“In my world, Slayer is a band,” Sam says with a shrug. “So… you’ve never heard of me? Or my brother? Dean Winchester?” 

Giles gives him a skeptical sideways look. “Should I have?” 

“I think I have a theory.” 

“It’s not bunnies.” 

“What?” 

“Never mind. Go on.” 

***

“This is where you live?” Dean asks, looking around at the big windows and unlocked door. “Are there protective spells or anything, at least?” 

“No. And thus, the neverending construction,” Xander says mournfully, nodding toward an unfinished window frame. 

Dean’s still processing how normal it is. They’re all sitting around in the incredibly ordinary living room on comfortably mismatched couches, and the coffee table in front of him has a copy of Cosmo on it, for fuck’s sake. He’s never met a hunter of any kind who’d be reading about “Why Wet Kisses Make Men Horny.” 

He looks up hopefully when he hears the door, but it’s not Sam; there’s a bleach-blonde guy coming in, shaking off the ratty blanket he’d been wearing like a cape. 

“Oh, great, you’re back,” Willow grumbles. 

Buffy gives him a look that’s borderline murderous, which would be about as threatening as a newborn kitten if Dean didn’t know what she’s capable of. “Why, exactly, are you back?” 

“Bored. Not much to do in a crypt.” The guy shrugs, looking Dean up and down with an appraising gleam in his eye. “Who’s the pretty boy?” 

Dean’s still processing “crypt.” Before he can decide how he feels about the flirtatious tone, Buffy answers for him: “Spike, this is Dean. Dean, this is Spike. Spike, you can fuck right off now. Dean, you want a glass of water or something? Sorry, all the alternate universe talk made me forget my manners.” 

“Got anything stronger?” 

“If by stronger you mean orange juice?” Buffy offers apologetically, but Spike pulls a flask out of the inside of his long coat and passes it to Dean with a smug half-smile. Then he makes himself at home in one of the armchairs, raising an eyebrow at Buffy as if to make it extra clear that he has no plans to “fuck right off” any time soon. 

“Cheers,” Dean says gratefully. 

Spike winks at him, obvious and shameless, and drawls, “You just let me know if you need anything else.” 

Buffy’s got her arms crossed, glaring daggers at Spike, and Dean can tell there’s something going on there, but he can’t really resist flashing his most charming grin in Spike’s direction.  

The front door opens again, and Dean breathes a long sigh of relief when he sees Sam. 

***

“What makes you think there’s a version of you in this universe, anyway?” Willow asks, and everybody pauses to think about that one for a second. “I mean, if there are all these different worlds, why are you guys the heroes in every single one?” 

“Bit bloody full of yourselves,” Spike says. There’s no reason for that sentence to sound as suggestive as it does, but that seems to be his default tone. Sam tries not to notice the way Spike’s staring at his brother. Not like Dean is aware of it; he’s too busy staring at Buffy. 

“There’s a world with nothing but shrimp,” Xander chips in unhelpfully. Sam shakes his head like that might clear his ears. 

“Chuck said -” Dean starts, and Sam cuts him off with a gesture before anyone can ask who “Chuck” is. That seems like a surefire way to derail this barely-coherent conversation, and Sam wants to figure out how to get the hell home. 

“It’s not a bad point,” he says. “So if Charlie programmed the thing -” Willow opens her mouth like she really wants to interrupt, but Sam plows on, “- to bring us from a world that didn’t have an us, maybe that’s what made it glitch. It couldn’t bring anyone to us, so it brought us here instead.” 

“But why would it drop you with us?” Buffy asks. 

“You guys seem to be the ones who deal with the apocalypses around here,” Dean says, shrugging. 

“We are the local experts at the saving people and the hunting things,” Buffy agrees. 

Spike smirks. “Big damn heroes, is what we are.” 

Buffy shoots him a withering glare. “You are not included in this.” 

“But why split us up?” Sam muses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His headache has not improved in the slightest. When he looks up, Dean’s eyes are darting between Sam and Giles, who has his glasses off and is pinching his own nose in the exact same spot. 

“Wow, Sammy,” Dean says, an infuriating grin spreading over his face. 

“What?”  

Dean turns to Buffy. “So this whole Slayer thing. Kind of a birthright? Destiny?” 

She shrugs. “I guess so. There was this whole group of old British guys with sticks up their asses, but... ” 

Sam rolls his eyes, starting to see where Dean’s heading with this, and asks Buffy, “Ever died, by any chance?” 

“Twice, actually,” she replies, without batting an eye. She looks back and forth between them. “Wait, have either of you -” 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know,” Dean says ruefully. “Sacrificed yourself to save someone, I’m guessing?” 

“That’s me, self-sacrificey girl,” Buffy says, matter-of-fact and borderline chipper. “Kind of my specialty. That and the quipping.” 

“Let me guess, you handle the research,” Sam says to Giles. 

“Well, yes, I suppose. Although I’m not exactly helpless in a fight. I do know a bit of magic as well.”  

Sam buries his face in his hands for a second. 

“So when the program couldn’t find a match for either of us, it sent us to… someone as much like us as it could find,” Dean says. 

Willow jumps in quickly. “What sort of computer -” 

“What was that about shrimp?” Dean asks at the same time. Everybody starts talking at once, and Sam sighs heavily. He almost rubs his forehead again, but he stops himself when he notices Giles doing the same thing.

***

Dean’s trying to explain the whole Chuck situation when he sees the distortion in the middle of the room, and he trails off in the middle of the sentence, watching anxiously as Charlie blurs in and out a few times before solidifying in front of them. 

“Okay, weird,” she blurts out, looking around wide-eyed and overwhelmed. 

“Holy fuck am I glad to see you,” Dean says fervently. 

“Right back atcha,” Charlie says. “Somebody want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” 

“Ooh, are you the one who beamed them up?” Willow asks excitedly. “Actually… you look weirdly familiar, have we met before?” 

Charlie blinks at her a few times, a smile spreading across her face, and shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Pretty sure I’d remember you.” 

“This is Charlie, she’s our resident computer genius,” Dean says, and they make the rounds of introductions yet again. 

Charlie gives everyone an awkward little wave. “Charlie. Um. I like LARPing, pretty women, and long walks on the beach.” 

Dean doesn’t miss the way Willow perks up at that, and he bites the inside of his cheek to hold back his laughter. 

“Hey, where’s Cas?” Charlie asks, finally tearing her eyes away from Willow long enough to look around the room, as if Cas might’ve hid behind the bookshelf when he arrived. 

Dean’s stomach sinks. “He came with you?”

“Yeah, we -” Charlie starts, but she’s interrupted by the door opening, and much to Dean’s relief, Cas is walking through it next to a frazzled-looking girl. 

“I’m hoping one of you can explain why this man materialized in my car?” the girl asks irritably. “As if parallel parking wasn’t hard enough without surprises.” 

“Hi to you too, Anya,” Buffy chirps. “Glad everybody could join us for what was supposed to be my relaxing day of solitude.” 

“I’m not a man, exactly,” Cas interjects. 

Anya tilts her head to the side inquisitively, glancing very blatantly down at Cas’s crotch for a second, and Dean snorts. 

“Would it be rude if I asked -” Anya starts. 

Giles answers before she can finish: “Yes, it undoubtedly would be.” 

“I’m an angel,” Cas says nonchalantly. 

“Judging by everyone’s faces, Anya’s not an angel, then?” Sam asks, looking between the two of them. 

“Only that one time, for Xander’s birthday,” Anya volunteers, and Xander splutters an incoherent protest. “But that was a sexy angel, not a real angel. I don’t think we have those here.”  

“She used to be a revenge demon,” Buffy explains. 

“Used to be?” Cas asks. 

“Oh, I’m human now,” Anya reassures him.

Spike adds, “Not that you’d know it, talking to her.” 

“Considering how primitive and strange humans are considered to be by most of the known universe, I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing,” Cas says mildly. “Some of your customs are utterly incomprehensible to an outsider.” 

“That’s what I keep saying!” Anya exclaims. “I mean, how am I supposed to know exactly which reproductive habits are acceptable for public discussion?” 

“They do have some very arbitrary rules about appropriate behavior,” Cas says. Dean notices Sam and Giles rubbing their foreheads in tandem again. 

***

By the time they finish asking all their questions and comparing apocalypses, Sam’s actually kind of having fun, but he knows it’s time to get back to work. 

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks Dean, during the next lull in the conversation. Dean looks more than a little put out as he sneaks a glance at Buffy, but he shrugs. 

“Probably should. Charlie? Hey, Earth to Charlie.” 

Charlie looks pretty dazed as she turns to face them. “Hmm?” 

“We should probably get home,” Sam says apologetically. 

Charlie’s face falls. “Really?” 

Dean gives her a sympathetic look. “Worlds to save, and stuff. Still need to find a way to warn all those other Sams and Deans. Sorry, kiddo.” 

“Maybe you can come back sometime, if you… y’know, survive the apocalypse?” Willow says, with a hopeful smile. Charlie grins at her. 

“We also have places to be,” Anya says cheerfully. “Very important things to do.” 

“Subtle,” Xander mutters. They wave their goodbyes and head for the door, followed by a somewhat sulky-looking Spike. Then again, that might just be Spike’s face; Sam can’t really tell. 

Cas, Charlie, Sam, and Dean huddle in the middle of the living room, and Charlie says resignedly, “Strap yourselves in, I’m gonna make the jump to lightspeed.” 

“You don’t have to scan us again, do you?” Dean asks, eyeing the gadget with some mistrust. 

“Nope. We’re all saved in the system. Ready?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Dean says, with one last half-smile in Buffy’s direction. Charlie hits the button. 

Nothing happens. Charlie frowns and hits it again. 

“Charlie?” Sam says hesitantly. 

“No, obviously that’s not supposed to be happening,” she retorts. She fiddles with a couple knobs. “I think I know what it is, though. There are all sorts of parameters for, like, which Earth you’re coming from and which Earth you’re going to, and I think the weird glitchy thingy might’ve scrambled the algorithm.” 

Dean leans in to look. “Did you try hitting it?” 

“It’s quantum physics, Dean, you can’t just keymash until it works,” Charlie says, rolling her eyes and holding it away from him. “Unless you want to be stuck in shrimp-world or something.” 

“How long do you think it’ll take to fix it?” Sam asks. 

Charlie shrugs. “Could be a couple hours, could be a day or two.” 

“I could help you,” Willow offers. Charlie looks like Christmas came early. 

“You guys are welcome to stay, it’s no biggie,” Buffy offers. “Not like you’re the strangest thing that’s ended up in my living room.” 

“I’m flattered,” Dean says with a grin. 

Sam sighs, but he can think of worse worlds to be in for a day or two. At least they’re not surrounded by shrimp. 

***

“So this is what you do every night?” Dean asks, as Buffy hops the fence with zero visible effort. He might have actual hearts in his eyes. 

“Pretty much,” she says cheerfully. Dean follows her. He does okay, even if he doesn’t stick the landing like a Russian gymnast. 

Sam had stayed home, after some silent pleading in eyebrow-speak, so it’s just the two of them, and it’s nice, for a graveyard. There’s something about the idea of “patrolling” that Dean likes. He imagines coming here night after night, recognizing the mausoleums, getting familiar with all the paths. It sounds stable.

“Do you like it?” Dean asks. “The whole Slayer thing.” 

Buffy wrinkles her nose adorably at him. “I’m not sure like is the word I’d choose. What else would I do, though? Not like I could just walk away from it. I tried, once. The weird follows me wherever I go.” 

“Sorry, if you don’t want me to follow you any more I can just…” 

She laughs at that. Dean feels butterflies in his stomach, like he’s just a middle schooler with a crush. It’s been a minute since he put actual effort into flirting with somebody, beyond the easy one-liners. Dean fiddles with the stake she gave him, twirling it in his fingers, trying to keep an eye on his surroundings instead of just staring at Buffy. 

“Sometimes I wonder,” she says softly. “Y’know? Like, why me?” 

“You’re basically a superhero,” Dean says. She can probably tell how hard he’s geeking out about it. “That’s what heroes do.” 

“It’s not just that, though! Like… I was bored out of my mind trying to be normal.” 

Dean laughs. “Normal was a disaster.” 

“So even if the weird wasn’t following me, I’d go find the monsters myself. Who does that?” 

“Crazy people,” Dean agrees. “I can’t imagine doing anything else, though. Never gonna have a normal job, never gonna have a normal relationship, and yet.” 

“So you’re not - there’s no relationship?” she asks, exaggeratedly casual.  

“Nah.” Dean tries to hide his grin, and then he asks cautiously, “What’s up with you and Spike?” 

She stops dead, mouth open, staring at him. “Wait. Oh god. Please don’t tell me Faith is already running her mouth, I told her -” 

“No, it’s cool, I just… guessed, earlier,” Dean says sheepishly. “Don’t worry, I don’t think anybody else noticed.” 

Buffy makes a face and rolls her eyes, and they start walking again. “It’s complicated, the… thing with Spike. It’s definitely not a relationship though.” She stresses that last bit, and Dean really shouldn’t feel relieved, at that, but he does. 

“Isn’t it always complicated?” 

Buffy sighs. “There’s the whole undead creature of the night thing, for starters, which. Oddly enough, seems to be a type for me?” 

“Yeah?” 

Something must show on his face, because Buffy frowns. “Oh, Jesus, don’t tell me you’re some sort of demon too.” 

“Would that help my chances?” Dean asks wryly. “Cause I kinda used to be.” 

She stares for a second. “You’re joking, right?” 

“Really not.” 

There’s a moment where she’s clearly deciding whether she wants to go there, but then a familiar voice rings out behind them and interrupts: “Thought you were heading home, pretty boy.” 

Dean turns, grinning in spite of himself. “Change of plans.”  

“Lucky us,” Spike drawls. “Mind if I join you for a walk, pet?” 

“No,” Dean answers, just as Buffy lets out a resigned, “Kinda.”  

Spike catches up to them and slings an arm around Dean’s waist, pulling him against his side. Buffy lets out a huff, but she’s laughing too. 

“Are you really trying to make me jealous?” she asks Spike.  

“Is it working?” 

Dean disentangles himself and looks back and forth between the two of them. “Yeah, this is obviously healthy.” 

Buffy laughs, but Spike just retorts, “Like you would know a healthy attachment pattern if it bit you in the ass.” 

Dean considers protesting, but he doesn’t really have a leg to stand on there. 

“Guess it’s in the job description. Are we gonna go fight some monsters, or what?” 

“Yeah, let’s go find the monsters,” Buffy says, grinning at Dean. “That’s what heroes do, right?”  

***

Sam zones out of the discussion around the time Cas and Giles start talking comparative theology through the millennia. He slouches back on the couch and watches them fondly as Cas answers question after question. His eyelids feel heavy and he’s comfortable, and even though he knows he should take the opportunity to learn more about this totally new Earth, all he really wants to do is sit, and breathe, and rest. 

Cas and Giles end up heading back to Giles’s house for tea and… something about an old book of etchings? Sam can’t really follow Giles’s breathless, excited rambling. He waves them off, thinking that he might actually go to sleep early, for once. 

Sam goes to the kitchen, chugs a glass of water and then fills another, and he just stands there for a moment, one hip leaning against the counter as he looks around. It’s such a normal house. Even on their most domestic days, they’re still in a bunker. Must be nice to have a little bit of normalcy, no matter how crazy life gets. There’s faint music and the occasional giggle from upstairs, but otherwise, the house is quiet. 

Of course, just as he has that thought, the front door slams open and someone shouts, “Yo, B! Ready to go?” 

“She went out already,” Sam says, bemused. 

He gets an impression of red lips, dark hair, and leather as the girl closes the door behind herself, moving whirlwind-quick. She plants her feet (loudly, in big stompy combat boots) and crosses her arms, looking at Sam suspiciously. Neither of them move for a second.  

“I’m Faith,” she announces eventually. “Who the fuck are you, why the fuck are you in B’s kitchen, and where the fuck is she?” 

“Sam, and… it’s a long story. She’s out patrolling with my brother, they left about an hour ago.” 

Faith seems to make some sort of decision about him, and suspicion turns to mischief as she gives him a broad grin. “If your brother looks anything like you, can’t blame the girl for ditchin’ me.” 

Sam’s mouth twitches as he tries to hold back a smile, and he takes a sip of water to cover it. 

“Aww, you shy?” Faith teases. Her voice is low and raspy, kind of absurdly sexy, and she clearly knows it. “Must be one of those nice guys I’ve heard so much about.” 

Sam doesn’t answer. He watches Faith stalk toward him. 

She’s a fucking force of nature, Sam can already tell, all aggression and attitude as she comes at him with a challenge in her eyes. He doesn’t move when she gets up in his space, looking Sam up and down like she’s inspecting him. He has a feeling she’s used to people backing away before they let her get this close. 

“Sam, huh? What brings you to Sunnydale?” 

“Just passing through,” Sam says calmly. “What about you?” 

“How do you know I’m not from around here?” she asks, looking up at him coyly. 

Sam doesn’t dignify that with a response, just smirks and waits. She takes a step back and leans against the counter, mirroring his pose. Her eyes are sparkling. 

“Fair enough. I’m a Slayer, figured I’d stick around in Sunnydale and help B for a while. Always seems to be somethin’ around here that needs its ass kicked.” 

Sam cocks his head to the side, considering her. “So you fight vampires?” 

“And whatever else is askin’ for a fight,” she retorts. “Why, is your brother a vampire?” 

“What?” 

“Buffy’s got a type. A demonic kinda type, if you know what I’m sayin’. Don’t worry, I won’t stake him.” 

Sam laughs. Figures. “I wasn’t worried. Just curious if the superpowers are all they’re cracked up to be.” 

“You better believe it,” Faith says proudly. “Strength, speed… stamina.” She says the last with a sly, unsubtle smirk, watching Sam to gauge his reaction. 

“Show me,” he challenges. He doesn’t specify which one he means, and Faith raises one eyebrow. 

“Right here? I figured you’d be the candlelight and Al Green type.” 

Sam smiles. She’s not the first person to make that assumption. 

The first punch is light, and he lets her see it coming; she dodges it easily, without so much as blinking. Sam’s left hand snakes out, lightning-fast this time, and she sidesteps neatly, grabbing his wrist instead and holding his arm in place. She’s stronger than he expected, and she’s grinning like this is the most fun she’s had all week. 

“Sure about this? I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” she says, sugary-sweet. 

The next punch is in earnest. She blocks it, throws one of her own, and then it’s a blur for a moment, a flurry of blows one after another, none of them landing. Neither of them are moving their feet much, trapped in the narrow space between the counter and the kitchen table; they’re just testing each other. 

“Not bad,” Sam admits. 

“Right back atcha.” 

She takes a couple steps backward, out into the open space, and Sam follows, watching closely. This time she lets loose with a flashy spin-jump-kick thing like something out of a cheesy action movie, and Sam’s laughing as he ducks. 

“Points for style, but not for substance,” he teases. 

She comes back at him twice as hard and almost gets him this time, but then he snatches her wrists and slams her back against the wall with a thunk that’s a whole lot louder than he expected. They both wince and freeze. 

“Everything okay?” Willow yells from upstairs.

Charlie’s pissy voice adds, “Please don’t tell me that was a monster.” 

“Just tripped,” Sam shouts back. He looks down at Faith, taking a half-step closer so that there’s maybe an inch of space between their bodies. He’s still got her wrists pinned over her head. She’s definitely not trying to get away. He has a feeling she could, easily, if she wanted to. 

“Not so nice after all, then,” she purrs, looking up at him through her lashes. 

Sam shakes his head slightly. “Not so much. You giving up, then?” 

“Not a fuckin’ chance. Just thinkin’ maybe we should have the rematch back at my place. You know, in case you ‘trip’ again.” 

“Sounds like a good idea.” 

***

Probably good they only stayed for a day, Dean thinks, looking around the room. Nobody, from either world, looks particularly happy about the departure, but they’ve all said goodbye often enough that they don’t draw it out. Charlie gives Willow one last little wave, and then she hits the button. Everything goes fuzzy. 

It’s disorienting, for a moment, but the bunker comes into focus around them. After the dizziness has passed, Dean gives Charlie a wordless hug. 

“I’m gonna go read a book with pictures in it,” she says glumly, and shuffles away. “And eat ice cream.” 

“Research time, I guess,” Sam says. “Back to work.” 

Cas heads to the kitchen to make some coffee as Sam starts flipping through his notes. Dean settles down at the table and looks at the nearest book without really seeing it. He feels fucking off, almost sad, as if he could’ve possibly gotten attached to that other world in less than twenty-four hours. 

“That was… kinda a nice universe, right?” he says. “I dunno. There was something about it.” 

Sam gives him a knowing look. “Yeah.” 

“Ever wish we could just… stay somewhere else?” Dean says, and he can’t keep the bitter note out of his voice. “I mean, why do we keep coming back to this world? What’s so great about it?” 

“It’s ours,” Sam says, with a shrug. “I mean, the other one wasn’t our responsibility, you know? Of course it was nice, not having to worry, but… this one’s ours. Gotta take care of it.” 

Dean twirls a pencil between his fingers and wishes it was a stake. He smiles, slightly, as he remembers. 

That’s what heroes do. 

.

.

.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a note here! 

@winchesterprincessbride​ @ultimatecin73​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @mogaruke​ @babypieandwhiskey​ @amanda-teaches​ @hannahindie​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms​ @maddiepants​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @leatherandfrackles @waywardbaby​ @covered-byroses​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @atc74​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @67-chevy-baby​ @wayward-and-worn​ @geekgirl1213​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @myfanficlibrarium​ @calaofnoldor​ @indecisive20something​ @carryonmyswansong​ @sycochick​ @michellethetvaddict​ @jotink78​ @boondoctorwho​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​ @mskathywriteswords​ @cracksinthewalls​ @rockhoochie​ @katehuntington​ @justcallmeasmodeus​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @lilpastababy​

[boleyn-falcon]

‘wouldn’t it be nice?’

okay so ever since i made my Joan and Jane fic (here) I've decided i wanted to make a oneshot for all the ladies and their queens! this one is a lot more happy because my heart can’t handle a sad Maggie rn like i’ll die.

this is also me just being a wannabe soccer jock because i finished my first season this school year :> of yea and if i accidentally refer to it as soccer and not football i’m sorry i’m a dumbass american

synopsis - Anne thinks today would be the perfect day to kidnap her closest friend and sports-related hijinks ensue! with maybe a slight side of bruises and concussions..

Words - 2593

Trigger warnings - none that i know of but tell me if you think i should add one!

     Maggie loved the early summer. It was the perfect time of the year, not too hot nor cold. She could leave her window open to let in natural sunlight during the day, she’s always hated artificial lights, they give her headaches. It was the best time to just hone her skills and relax, she could let all of her stress just melt away. The brunette started learning a new song she heard so she could play it to the ladies and queens. “Wouldn't it be nice”, by some old american group called ‘The Beach Boys’, it was a nice feel good song the guitarist just felt amazing hearing. The old song’s lyrics remind her how good her second chance at life really was, “And wouldn't it be nice to live together,In the kind of world where we belong?”, it was perfect.

  Her hands gracefully floated over the strings, eyes locked on the chords displayed on her computer screen. It felt like the world had stopped moving for a moment, like everything was calm. Well that feeling didn’t last that long. Maggie’s hands suddenly gripped the neck of the instamet as a large crash came from down stairs, ‘oh no what is it this time’. The musician laid her guitar down on her bed right as a slew of very creative and colorful curses came from what she could only presume was Bessie. With a quick trot down the stairs she was soon to find a very peeved bassist, a started pianist, a confused drummer. She made haste to the living room where they were standing to also find one very apologetic tudor queen and one rambunctious gremlin on the floor, oh and a slightly broken window.

    “Gosh Bess I’m so sorry about her, we just got back from pret and i let her buy a large chocolate frappe, i'll pay for the new window..”, the blue clad queen said with a sorry smile. Maria spoke up with a curious tone, “Wait why are you guys here anyway? Atleast give a reason Miss Kermit the Hulk over here came crashing through our window?”, the green eyed woman finally stood up from her place on the floor and shuffled shyly. “Well Cathy wanted to come over and get some piano lessons from Joan and I tagged along to hopefully get some time with my favorite ferret!”, Maggie gave an amused chuckle and stepped forward. “Well okay you sugared up raccoon, what did you wanna do?”, Anne made her way to the couch and plopped down, “Well before we do anything, you need to go change into some shorts and a tank top oh and put your hair up. Cathy then grabbed one of the two drawstring bags she had been holding and handed it to Anne, who was already in some black running shorts and a neon green muscle tank. “Well me and Joan are gonna go hit the keys, you two have fun with whatever trouble Anne will get you both in”, and with that the two shorter girls made their way across the room and began to talk quietly.

  The band member made her way back up to her room and began to pick out an outfit. ‘ Huh, I wonder why Anne is having me wear sports gear..the only kind of sport she watches is hockey and that's because she thinks it's funny to see them beat the shit out of each other’. She opened her closet and picked out some white athletic shorts(with pockets because all pants need them in her opinion), and a pastel cyan dri fit shirt with a black double note on the front. Lastly, she ties her hair back in her normal high ponytail she wears for shows.

      Finally they were ready and made their way out of the house and onto the London streets. Anne still had her green bag, without giving a single hint to what could be inside. They made their way down into the nearest tube station on the Piccadilly Line. Maggie could now slightly narrow down the places they could be heading,but just a little. They stayed on the hot tube for a good few minutes before the hyper woman pulled her off and gave her a little time to look at where they had gotten off, Hyde Park Corner. This had just gotten even more puzzling as they made their way up to the surface. They were so close to leaving the station, till they had to scan their oyster cards. Anne had gotten through the gate easily with a quick swipe of her card. Maggie walked forward and scanned her card, but as she was walking through she felt a pressure on her waist. The Confused woman looked down to find out.. The gate had closed on her and she was stuck in between the two sides of the machine. “...Well shit… that's a problem”, the two rudor women laughed and Anne waved down a worker to let her friend out of her plastic-mechanical prison.

       They finally made it out of the station, at least they already had a funny story to tell the others. They ambled their way down the stone sidewalk, smiling and laughing like school kids. “So I tell Joey about the whole pasta-wall test and she actually does it! Wait it gets better, she grabs a handful of angel hair spaghetti and chucks it at the kitchen wall! In front of Maria and Bessie! Let’s just say she wasn't allowed to be near any kind of noodle for a while”, Anne bursts out in laughter even stronger than back at the station, wiping tears from her eyes.  Suddenly the green queen stopped and grabbed her friend’s hand and pulled her over to the other side of the road. “Tadah! We are gonna hang out here and try something new!”,the enthusiastic woman points to the stone arch like structure above them. “Hyde Park? What could we possibly learn here?”, Anne gives no answer as she continues to drag the poor musician into the park and off to a flat clearing.

    The Boleyn girl stops right in the middle of the small grassy area and finally pulls out what has been hiding in her bag, a basic football and a small bluetooth speaker. “I thought it would be fun if we learned how to play Football! It seems easy enough and it would be fun bonding for us!”, she put the speaker down next to her bag and put the ball at her feet. Maggie was beyond confused, neither woman had ever tried sports, she knows Cleves runs and does boxing with Kathrine but that's about it. The guitarist gave a nod to the woman in front of her, she was about three meters away. Anne pulls her foot back like a bow and slams the front of her foot into the ball and sends it flying towards the other burnette. The ball hits Maggie’s right shin, she stumbles back and trips over the object at her feet and falls on her backside. “Ow shit!”, both women say loudly, Anne holding her foot and Maggie on the ground clutching her shin.

     “Okay so bad idea, maybe we should..I dunno, learn how to play the damn game before we start kicking shit?”, the tudor queen gave a shy nod as she walked over and helped the injured girl to her feet. Maggie pulls out her phone from the pocket of her shorts and goes to her trusty friend, Google. “Okay Mags we should start with how to kick the damned thing without breaking all of your toes”, the guitarist gave a small chuckle and searched what Anne had suggested. After about thirty seconds of looking she finds a short Youtube video titled, ‘How to properly kick a soccer ball’, huh made by an American i guess. She clicked the video and turned her phone so both inept reincarnates could watch. The woman in the video showed her foot parallel to the ball, lightly kicking it with the inner side of her foot, unlike Anne who ‘toed’ the ball from what the woman said. The demonstrator showed how to open your hips wide to pass forward and how to angle your foot to make sure the ball goes in the right direction. After the tutorial ended Maggie turned her phone off and returned it to her pocket. “Okay Anne go back to your spot with the demon-sphere so we can try this again”.

      So it was take two and they widened their stances slightly like the player in the video did, “Okay Mags remember to stop it with the side like she said so i don't break your foot! God the other Ladies would kill me..”. Anne got ready and tilted her foot outwards slightly and pulled back, she hit the ball correctly, well sort of. She used the right part  of her foot but hit the very bottom of the ball and it flew upwards and towards the poor ferret-like woman in front of her, hitting her square in the face. Maggie stepped back and made a low grunt noise and held her face. “Christ Annie what did you do wrong this time? You did exactly what she said and it was still fucked up!”,Anne gave a confused look with a tilt of her head, “I dunno ‘M, maybe it was wind?”.  Both gave a frustrated sigh as they sat down on a nearby bench and started to think. Before they could conjure up a coherent thought, Maggie spotted 3 teenage looking girls with matching gold and red sports uniforms with low and behold, a football. The younger girl shot up from the bench and gave her queen a confident smirk, “Anne i think i have a good but also maybe terrible idea”, she sped up to the girls and stopped them in their tracks.

           “Hey sorry to bother you girls but erm… you play Football right..?”, the three girls looked at each other confusingly, “Um”, the tall brunette girl starts, “Yea we are on our school’s team..why?”. Anne catches up to Maggie right as the conversation continues, “Well I’m Maggie and my friend Anne and I want to learn how to play but we are kinda…”, Maggie trails off for Anne to finish, “Bad at it, like really bad”. The tanner girl with gloves on stepped forward with an amused look, “Well okay then, we were just about to go for a short practice so we could totally help you out!”, she put her gloved hand out for Maggie to shake, “I’m Samina, I’m the team’s goalie and these are two out of three of my defenders, Piper”, she points to the girl from brefor who gave a small wave, “And brooke”, a shorter brunette looked up and gave a small nod. “So I see you're already kinda set up here so let's get to it!”, the goalie led her girls over and gave the older pair an encouraging smile, “Show us whatcha got ladies!”.        All five of the girls got in a wide spread circle with Anne’s ball at her feet. “Okay so first things first, do you know how to kick it without hurting yourself or sending it to the moon?”, Anne looked over and answered for Maggie, “Kinda, we can do it without harming our precious feet buuut it went flying and ‘bout gave Mags a broken sniffer..”. The shortest girl gave a small nod and gazed over at the pair, “Well then you hit the bottom of the ball, next time hit the middle or top, but i say middle because you might trip if you hit the top”, she said in a monotone voice. Anne decides to give it a go and turns to face Maggie, giving her a look that says, ‘be prepared because this might end horribly’. Giving her queen a quick nod she gets ready to receive the weapon of death, aka the ball. Anne pulls back and hits the ball just like she was told and it zooms towards Maggie on the ground and the brown eyed woman manages to catch it with somewhat ease. “Nice job Bo!”, she says as she rushes to give her green clad friend a high-five who gladly returns. “Now”, Piper starts, “time to learn how to dribble with the ball!”. Both girls groan in response.

       After about an hour and a half of learning the simple methods of the sport the girls had to leave so it just left Maggie and Anne to figure it all out from there. Maggie spots an opportunity to turn up the fun and jogs over to Anne’s speaker and connects her phone. An upbeat guitar melody begins to play and just a few seconds later words start to emit from the speaker, “Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn't have to wait so long?”. The musician gives a bright smile as the cheerful song plays, she now could really understand how grateful she really was for this new life. She sauntered over to the smiling Boleyn girl and they began to pass the ball around and laugh. They practiced thier passess and dribbleing, even tripping a good few times which made their smiles even brighter as they became covered in dirt,grass, and small bruises.

     “Annie! Heads up!”, the ball flew past the queen’s head and into a tree behind her, getting stuck up in some branches. “Shit sorry, i'll go up and get it dont worry!”, Anne gave a worried glance, “Are you sure Maggie? We could just throw stuff at it to knock it down..”, Maggie had already started scaling the tree. It was anything but graceful, she looked like a blind cat with a missing tail,left leg, and whiskers, she couldn't balance at all. After making her way up about 5 or so branches she finally got to their beloved horri-ball. She grabbed it with her left hand, leaving her right, non-dominant hand, to be the one holding onto the flimsy branch above her, it was a recipe for disaster. “Hey Anne, I got the bAL-”, where her last words before the branch gave way and she went tumbling to the ground. Luckily or not so luckily, her dearest queen was there to break her fall. “I told you so”, is all Anne could croak out from under Maggie before she pushed her off. After that fiasco they moved a tad bit farther from the trees so they didn’t have to go home in full body casts.

After a few more hours it was starting to get dark and they thought it best for them to head back to their respective homes. They parted ways and started the trek back to their humble abodes. “See you later Mag! I'll text you later!”, and with that Anne was gone, Maggie has always wondered how she just vanishes right when you take her eyes off her. After a very cautious tube station trip and ride, she was finally home. The guitarist, happy to be home and rest, opens the door, ready to have some quiet time. Her dreams are slightly crushed as she sees a small brown blur scurry across the hall with a very distressed Maria rushing after it. The drummer stops in her tracks to make eye contact with her bandmate, “Bessie,Cathy, and Joey went out for dinner, don't say a word about this Margret”, today just got even more exhausting.

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

Okay well that was an absolute acid trip-

i hope yall enjoy some cute bonding shit becuase the last one was so edgy n shit, and before any of you ask, yes the three girls on my team who are all really amazing players and friends and i love them so so much-

the next one will probably be with Maria and Lina and them dealing with Maria’s.... new little predicament haha

[for-ests]

Please Don’t Go: Kageyama Tobio (Part 2)

Part 1 

Warnings: mild gore, angst, then fluff 

Word count: 2, 757

Sirens lit up the once vacant, lifeless street, signaling to residents that something grim had unfolded. Curiosity ushered everyone who was wakened by the crash to timidly stand by and watch. Many of them college students like yourself, some who knew you and prayed for your recovery.

Unfortunately, it took almost five minutes for the ambulance to arrive as strangers knelt beside you to make sure your breathing steadied.

Hearing the commotion from outside, and watching the red and blue lights reflect through her windows, Yachi gained the courage to step onto the street. Whatever had happened, she had a gut-wrenching feeling that you were involved. You should have arrived over 15 minutes ago, and she knew you were not the type of person to cancel last minute without warning. Especially this late at night, and after an argument with your boyfriend.

As those thoughts swirled through her brain, Yachi began to grow more panicked, her pace picking up as she rounded that fateful corner. She had called you five times, each call dialing fully until it reached your voicemail.

An ambulance was in sight, and so was a police vehicle. Her eyes scanned the road, noting a dent in a residential car and a group of first responders huddled around a female body.

Her stomach flipped. Just by glancing at the color of your hair, she knew it was you.

“Oh my god…!” The blonde gasped, sprinting towards you, tears gathering in her eyes. “No… No… please.”

A police officer heard her cry and turned towards her. “Mam, you need to stay back.” He warned calmly, stepping in front of her path.

Bystander’s turned their attention to her, as well as the first responders. A woman who had also been crying started to sob even harder, she looked away with an expression masked in guilt.

“That’s my friend!” Yachi replied desperately. “I need to see…” The words died in her throat. “She was walking to my house!”

The officer reassuringly set a hand on her shoulder, trying to keep her attention averted from your crumbled state. “She’s alive and in stable condition. Your friend will be okay.”

Yachi furiously wiped her tears away. “O-okay.”

“What’s her name?” The officer asked. “She’s unconscious and I need to write a name down.”

“Y/N, L/N.” She relayed, clenching her fists in frustration. How did this happen? Was there anything she could do? Yachi took a deep breath and closed her eyes again, trying to get rid of the rest of her tears. She needed to be strong for you, whatever had happened. You were going to be okay and that’s all that mattered. “She’s a student here.”

Despite that, her heart still pounded in her chest as she watched the first responders create a makeshift splint for your leg and arm, hoisting you onto a gurney. For a brief second, she saw your face. Cuts and bruises littered your ashen skin. “Please let me ride in the ambulance with her!” She asked, practically begging.

Since it wasn’t a critical emergency, Yachi was let into the ambulance to accompany you. She rushed over and hopped inside, managing to refrain from trembling at the seriousness of your situation. Normally, she wouldn't be able to speak, yet alone make a fuss at a legitimate crime scene, but she couldn’t leave you alone. You couldn’t be alone when you woke up.

You would do the same for her.

“She’ll be okay. Don’t worry.” The medic sitting across from her said as he hooked you up to an IV system. “She’ll head right into surgery.”

“Thank you.” Yachi managed to smile, though she knew it wouldn’t suffice. She was queasy. Your body looked mangled, and she could see the break in your lower leg, the bone almost breaking your skin.

The blonde gripped your hand through the short and silent ride to the emergency room. Squeezing it tightly, she quietly thanked God that your injuries hadn’t worsened. She watched your chest rise and fall, calming her own worries as the minutes passed.

For a moment, her conscious cleared past the present as she remembered the reason you were trekking to her apartment. Kageyama.

Yachi pulled her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket and immediately texted him.

Yachi Hitoka: Y/N was in an accident. She’s going into surgery, please meet me at the hospital on third street. I’ll call you when I arrive.

Kageyama Tobio: Please tell me she’s okay

Kageyama Tobio: Oh my god, please

Kageyama Tobio: Yachi?

One missed call from Kageyama Tobio

Yachi Hitoka: She’s going to be okay, I promise

Kageyama Tobio: I’m running there now

Kageyama Tobio: I’ll meet you in the lobby

Kageyama grabbed his wallet, keys, and a jacket before sprinting down the same street you had before. Heart pounding in his chest, he ran as hard as he could.

He ran past the scene, barely paying attention to who was there, and who was tending to the mess. All he could think about was you.

How could he let this happen? How could he let you walk away?

Stressed beyond comprehension, he couldn't even cry. He ran the full twenty minutes to the hospital where Yachi claimed you would be.

Bursting through the hospital doors, he found Yachi's grief-stricken expression waiting for him.

"How bad is it?" He panted, biting onto his lip so hard that he could taste blood.

The blonde looked reluctant to tell him, seeming to realize that he would find himself at fault. "Broken bones."

Kageyama's heart fell. For a moment, he couldn't speak. He could not think.

Then suddenly, without warning, your boyfriend kicked the nearest waiting room chair. "Fuck!"

Yachi stepped back, startled. "It's not your fault!" She hesitated to reach forward and console him. Kageyama was incredibly rigid, shoulders tense and jaw clenched.  

He slumped down in the same chair he tried to break, and didn't say another word until the doctor came to the waiting room four hours later.  

❀∙∘✿∘∙❀

Surprisingly, you emerged from your slumber peacefully. Even if pain was the first thing to enter your mind, the second was the sight of your friends cramped into the small hospital room, all of them dozing off.

You blinked a couple times, trying to recall where you were and what had happened. Gazing down at your legs, you almost gasped aloud. The cast around the lower portion of your body seemed to reflect a broken femur. Along with some bones in your arm that you couldn’t identify. Your entire left arm was encased.

Starting to panic, your eyes darted to the man sitting beside you. Kageyama stared at you with tender eyes, the only person awake so he could give Yachi the couch to nap on.

“Good morning.” He whispered, squeezing your hand gently. Your cheeks inflamed when you realized he had been holding it the entire time. “You’re finally awake.”

Weakly, you squeezed his hand back. You immediately remembered what happened last night, and why you were even out on the street in the first place. It was strange how little your argument seemed now that you were lying in a hospital bed. Wondering if he felt it too, your lip started to quiver.

“I’m sorry.”

Your mouth parted in surprise.

“Sorry for what?”

Kageyama grimaced. Now, you could finally glimpse the reality of his expression. Anyone who knew him could tell he was disheveled. The bags under his eyes had worsened. It seemed like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

“What I said to you last night was unfair. I didn’t mean it. And now-” He started, too choked up to say anything coherent. You had the feeling he wanted to reach out for you by the way he stumbled with his words, and how he anxiously gestured with each sentence. You watched that thought leave his eyes as he remembered the pain you must be in.

Guilt was evident in his tone, in his eyes, all over his face.

“Y/N… I love you and I haven’t been showing it. I’m sorry.”

Taking comfort in the fact that Kageyama could finally admit his wrongdoing, caused a smirk to cross your face. He rarely showed emotion, and right now you were witnessing an overload. “It really took me getting hit by a car to make you realize that, huh?”

“Not funny.” He said, even if slight smile curved upon his lips.

“I thought it was funny.” You heard Yachi’s chuckle from across the room.

The both of you turned to find her already scrambling from the couch to your side. “How are you feeling?” She asked cautiously. “You’ve been asleep for ten hours. Surgery took four.”

“It hurts, but I’m okay. For now," You answered honestly. In the moment it was terrifying, but you were lucky that you only had broken bones. Yachi looked like she wanted to say more, her eyebrows creased with worry. “Thank you for being there with me.”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes to relieve some of the tension. The blonde could tell that you needed to have a private conversation with your boyfriend. “I should go get us some food, and let the doctors know you’re awake.”

“Thank you.” You weakly blew a kiss in her direction with your uninjured hand as she left the room.

Once the door closed, Kageyama leaned down and rested his head in your lap, hiding his face.

“Where’s your mind at?” You comfortably set your hand in his hair, running your fingers down the nap of his neck. Normally, you would be all too willing to fall back into his arms. But if that were to happen, the cycle would go on repeating itself. That’s not the life you wanted for yourself, and it was certainly not the life you wanted for Kageyama. If you couldn’t be the one by his side, hopefully someone else could.

He was struggling. And his way of dealing with it was pushing you away, something you couldn’t handle.

“What do you mean where’s my mind at?” He lifted his head, blinking in confusion. One hand was still intertwined with yours while the other gripped the railing of your hospital bed. You watched his muscles tense.

Strangely, the accident had provided your mind with clarity.

“I love you, Kageyama.” You gestured frantically between the two of you. There was barely a gap, but it felt like miles. “But do you still want to be with me? It feels like you don’t sometimes.”

“Of course I do.” He whispered. “I just… don’t want to bother you with my problems. I try to be better for you, for us, yet I keep failing.”

“You’re my boyfriend for a reason. I agreed to figuring out your problems with you.”

He knew he had no justifiable excuse. He had fucked up. What was wrong with his mentality? He hadn’t thought about you in his moments of despair. Your accident brought that to light and he couldn’t help but feel responsible.

“I love you, Y/N.” His shoulders relaxed. “I’ll do anything I can to make it up to you.”

“All I’m asking is that you show it more.” You reminded quietly, surprised at how quickly he had agreed with you. “I should be able to feel your love, like how I am right now.”

Your words were a challenge. After the years you had spent together, Kageyama was able to decipher your language.

“This last month has been difficult for the both of us. Not just you, Tobio.”

Suddenly feeling distressed, you prayed silently that your words were getting through to him. You wanted to kiss him so badly, to run your fingers along his face in a caressing touch. You wanted to move on like nothing ever happened but your heart couldn’t go through it again. There needed to be a change.

“You’re right.” He breathed, tension pulling harder and harder at the both of you. “I feel like you despise me. I don’t know how to make it right.”

His confession took you by surprise. Kageyama was never not confident, he never shied away from taking control of every situation. When he walked into the room, all eyes were always on him. You knew he was under an immense amount of stress and pressure because of it. But now it had taken a toll on your relationship.

“I’m not used to this… not knowing what to do.”

“You should be able to take comfort in the fact that I’m here for you. I should know things about you that no one else does.” You met his eyes again. “I thought you would have learned this after being together for three years.”

“Take comfort in the fact that no one has heard me say that before.” He leaned closer, an invitation. “You’re the only girl I need.”

Still upset, that comment made the corners of your lips curve slightly.

He was vulnerable for what seemed like the first time. That was a step in the right direction, a promising one. Now he knew you were serious. You wouldn’t tolerate his childish behavior any longer. You wanted something more with him, and he was going to have to work for it.

“I get so upset because… Because that’s how I feel too. That you’re the one for me.”

Even though Kageyama was sure you still wanted to scream at him, yet you held yourself with so much composure. It made his heart race. You looked beautiful just as you were, even when your eyes were red, hair matted to your face, and skin littered with cuts and bruises. He only wished this conversation happened sooner, because your injuries would disappear.

“I love you.” Kageyama repeated with glossy eyes. “For a moment I thought I had lost you.”

And with that, he closed the gap and pressed a kiss against your lips. His warmth enveloped you and you gripped onto him tight, as tight as you could without straining your weakened state.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” He whispered into your hair, holding your head to his. “I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize it.”

A few stray tears escaped your eyelids but he immediately wiped them away. His own were welling up, as he became unable to hold back any longer.

“You’re everything to me.” You tilted your head to kiss his cheek. You relished in the feeling of his hands grasping to you tightly, as if he might lose you again.

You hadn’t seen him cry in so long, longer than you could remember. He was always so strong, so secure. Most times it was because you thought he was emotionless when it came to you, but you had been proved wrong once again.

Kageyama opened his mouth to reply, but the door clicked open, signaling that Yachi was back to fret over you.

“Yay!’ She sang. “Everything is okay now?”

“Yes.” Kageyama replied, clearing his throat and refraining from showing any more emotion, especially in front of someone who wasn’t you.

“I’m great-" You gave her a thumbs up, chuckling as she started to unpack the food she had purchased. Well, Kageyama had. He had slipped her his wallet. “and starving.”

“Your wish is my command.” She handed you a plastic bowl of steaming ramen and packaged meat buns. Your mouth watered and you immediately reached to rip open the plastic.

"Um," You tittered, handing the buns back to Kageyama. "I need you to open it for me." Laughing helped subside the aches that came with every simple movement.

Your boyfriend snorted, and obliged. Unwrapping the snack, he held it to your mouth.

Food had never tasted so amazing as it did in that moment.

“Don’t eat too fast.” Chuckling, Yachi rummaged through the bag of snacks and handed Kageyama two milk pouches.

He smiled in thanks.

“I can’t believe after all these years that’s still your favorite.” You said through mouthfuls.

“Yeah.” Yachi teased. “You’d think he grow out of it by now.”

Kageyama rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

The rest of the day was spent watching movies and stuffing your faces full of unhealthy cafeteria food. Oddly, you wouldn't have wanted to spend it any other way.

[fatechica]

Could you possibly give us a sneak peak at the next chapter?

Y’all, I feel so bad. So many of you have asked for this and I’ve just been super busy. So, to make up for it, here’s the whole first scene of the next chapter (I’m a fair bit beyond where this is, in case you were wondering). Hopefully, I’ll have this chapter out soon, but I don’t want to make any promises other than I’m working on it every day for as long as I’m able to. 

So, until then, enjoy this snippet!

________

When things fall apart, it’s almost always because of something small, something that seems – in the moment – inconsequential. The straw that broke the camel’s back, one step too far – always a small thing, never a big one. 

And, in this case, a small thing in the form of a flyer for the Winter Formal coming up in a few weeks, the weekend after finals. 

It’s a simple, unassuming flyer: pale blue, a little smaller than a regular piece of paper, with delicate cursive writing announcing “A Magical Winter Ball” above a picture of a Disney-esque castle.

El’s in the girls’ locker room before gym class and she catches the sight of the flyer out of the corner of her eye on her way to her usual row of lockers to change for PE. She halts in place, almost frozen to the ground as her gaze scans over the announcement, greedy eyes taking in the date and time, mind already whirling with dresses and hair and makeup….

And, most importantly, who she really wants to go with. 

El is moments away from reaching out and snagging the flyer with fingers that are just about to start trembling when someone comes up next to her shoulder. And it’s only because she sees the movement out of the corner of her eye that she doesn’t startle when a hand reaches out and taps her on the shoulder.

It’s Jen who’s standing there when El turns to look, a bright if knowingly mischievous smile on her face. “You gonna go?” Jen asks, gesturing to the flyer on the bulletin board. “Maybe with a date this time?” The wink Jen gives her makes it clear who she’s talking about. 

El resists the urge to swallow heavily, the lie of omission heavy on her lips. Max is still only person she’s told about Mike other than her dad – El hasn’t even dared to think of telling anyone else, the guilt of telling someone behind Mike’s back sitting sour in her stomach, even though she desperately wants to let the whole world know, loud and proud, that she and Mike are dating. 

(ok, so it’s a lot more than just dating, especially recently, and el is so head-over-heels in love with mike she can barely think straight most of the time. god, she never wants this to end.)

So, El decides the easiest thing to do in the moment is just not even acknowledge Jen’s question. “When did they hand these out?” El asks instead, honestly curious how she missed it. It’s only the first Monday back from Christmas break – not a lot of opportunities for El to have missed this bit of news. 

“They made an announcement during lunch – it was, like, so pretty and cool, too bad you missed it. But I guess that’s what happens when you don’t eat lunch in the cafeteria, like you normally don’t these days.”

“Oh,” is all El can say. Because, yeah, she’s been having lunch away from the cafeteria more and more these days. And especially today, where eating lunch was just a tiny fraction of what she spent the lunch period doing. 

Naturally, this makes her thing of exactly how she spent most of the lunch period and it takes everything she has to keep her breathing stable as her face starts to heat up and her stomach goes all floaty and squirmy. Her body tingles with the memory of Mike’s touch, of the way he made her feel as they lost themselves in each other, spurred on by the excitement of doing it at school, need in every fiber of their being. 

God, El’s surprised she’s still at all coherent after that. 

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Jen says with a low giggle, rolling her eyes all the while. “If you decide to go, though, let me know, yeah? I think a bunch of us are going to go as a group.”

At that, El smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says.

Jen gives her another wink and trills her fingers at El in a bubbly wave before she turns to go get ready for gym. 

El turns to take one last look at the flyer before she goes to do the same, but stops at the flash of red hair that comes into view. Max is standing there, clearly having overheard El’s conversation with Jen, and the grin on her face with the way her eyebrows are arched give away her teasing intentions.

“Yeah, come to think of it, you and Wheeler were nowhere to be seen at lunch today,” Max says grin growing more and more shit-eating by the second. “So, spill it, what hidey hole did you two find to bang in? Might file it away for me and Lucas to use later, as long as it’s not too weird.”

El’s eyes widen and she panics at just how loud Max is speaking, even though her tone is no louder than normal (panic doesn’t like to listen to reason, after all). “Max!” El yells through a whisper, rushing forward to grab the other girl by the wrist and pull her aside so they can talk in low tones. “Don’t say it like that!”

This is clearly the wrong thing to say as it just makes Max even more inspired to troll her. “What, you don’t like ‘banging’?” She taps her lips with her finger, pretending to think. “Hmm, how about… fucking – no, wait, too crude. Having sex? Eh, too clinical.” A light goes on in Max’s eyes. “Oh, I know! Making love,” she says with a sing-song teasing rhythm. “That’s just the right kind of mushiness for you.”

El wishes she could control the flush that’s searing into her cheeks, and her inability to do so only makes her blush harder. “Max, please.”

“Hey, if you’re old enough to do it, you’re old enough to talk about it,” Max says as she crosses her arms loosely over her chest. 

El lets out a desperate sigh. “God, please, I’m begging.”

At that, Max’s nose crinkles in over-dramatic disgust. “God, ew, you do not have to quote your sex life with Mike to me.” El glares at Max hard enough that El’s almost surprised that Max doesn’t wither on the spot, but Max just laughs at her. “Ok, ok, I’m stopping, sorry. It’s just too much fun to tease you, Ellie.”

“Gee, thanks,” El says, voice dry and deadpan.

“You’re welcome, don’t worry about it, happy to be of service,” Max says as she and El start heading towards the lockers. “But, seriously, you never said where you and Mike disappeared off to so you could boink like rabbits.”

El feels like she’s reached a point of superior maturity because she gracefully and primly ignores Max’s crude jibe. “The A/V room, if you must know.”

Max lets out a low whistle, brows rising in amused shock. “Damn, right on school property? That’s bold.”

El shrugs. “Mike has a key and, well….” She can’t manage to keep the beginnings of a smile off her face and El doesn’t even try to fight it.

“Get it, girl,” Max says with her own sharp grin. “Just remind me to never walk past the A/V room during lunch.” 

Yeah, El’s completely lost the battle to control the smile on her face. “Oh, it’s not that bad. We’ve figured out how to be quiet.”

Max shudders. “Oh god, please don’t – I do not need to imagine you two doing it. Man, this must be what karmic payback feels like.”

“Serves you right,” El says with an arched eyebrow as she goes to her usual locker. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. No need to rub my face in it.” Max rolls her eyes and settles at the locker a couple over from El. “So, you two gonna go to that winter ball thing?”

“Dunno, maybe.” El shrugs her shoulders, trying to project a nonchalance she doesn’t exactly feel. Because the actual answer to Max’s question is hopefully, that she desperately wants to go despite only having known about the dance’s existence for less than 5 minutes. She wants to be swept up in the romance of an evening out, of going on a date to a dance with her boyfriend and not have to hide it away from their friends and classmates. 

Max snorts. “Yeah, that sounded convincing. You’re transparent, Hopper.”

El lets out a sigh and her shoulders slump. So much for nonchalant, she thinks as she opens a locker and starts dressings for PE. “You know how he is with school dances. Plus we still haven’t talked about telling other people yet.”

“Yeah, because you’re too busy going at it like rabbits,” Max says. “It’s like you two ghosted us over Christmas break. He that good in bed, huh? Never would have thought little Mikey Wheeler had it in him.”

El hates that she’s blushing, but she can’t even bring herself to deny any of Max’s words. Because everything she said is true. 

With the exception of a few days – namely Christmas and the days around it – Mike and El spent every day of Christmas break together, just the two of them, getting up to a whole lot of not good that involved exactly zero clothing, bouncing back and forth between each other’s houses, mostly lucking into having one house or the other empty at any one time. The hours melted into one another, all the time they spent together alone, and it had been just about the most magical experience of El’s life. 

Coming back to school had been a rude awakening and El resents a little (a lot) that she can’t just lay in bed with Mike all day, snuggling and talking and kissing and then more once those things are no longer enough to satisfy the need and passion that seem to live just a few heartbeats away. And the stolen half an hour she was able to spend with Mike during lunch was just not enough to fill this new void in her life.

When El doesn’t respond, Max seems to take that as her cue to continue speaking. “But, whatever – if you two want to spend all your time shacking up, that’s your choice. Just as long as you wrap it before you tap it, if you know what I’m saying.” The grin on Max’s face shows her sheer and utter delight at getting in as many sexual euphemisms as  possible and El unintentionally rewards Max’s effort by blushing fiercely.

“We’re safe,” El all but mutters under her breath. “But thanks for the concern.”

“Oh, I’m not concerned – I just don’t want a front row seat to the Hawkins version of ‘16 and Pregnant’, thank you very much,” Max says as she shuts her locker. “Don’t be white trash, Ellie dear, is all I’m asking.”

El rolls her eyes and shuts her own locker. “I’ll try.”

Max lets out a low chuckle. “Good, see that you do that.”

Together, the two make their way out to the gymnasium to wait for PE to start. And, the entire time, El can’t stop thinking about the Winter Ball and how she so very much wants to go with Mike.

But she just doesn’t know if he’d be willing to go with her.

[peri-2f5l-5xg]

     What blob thing? Peridot didn’t get the chance to finish that thought.

     The little technician’s tablet clattered to the floor, a sharp yelp escaping her lips as something lashed around her middle abruptly, lifting her into the air. “WH-- HEY--” Her struggle didn’t last long; all at once she froze, face-to-face with none other than Lapis Lazuli herself. The gem had come down from the second floor, descending the ladder behind Peridot while she was preoccupied.

     Normally, Peridot would’ve laughed this off, maybe called her a clod and demanded to be put down. This was her best friend! A dork who prided herself in ‘whispering to frogs’ and parroting bits of Camp Pining Hearts dialogue and still didn’t quite get the concept of money. Lapis was ridiculous, and silly, and sometimes incredibly sweet... And against all odds, there was no denying that the pair of polar opposites had forged an incredibly strong bond.

     But in that moment Lapis was staring at a total stranger, and Peridot felt the disconnect immediately. Her friend had no idea who she was, or what she was doing lurking around the pair’s house. And why should she? Peridot didn’t exactly look like herself right now. The cold judgment in Lapis’s eyes sent chills straight down her spine.

     It was just like that first day at the barn, only even worse.

     The last time Peridot felt this mortally terrified, she’d been facing down a timeline devouring eldritch nightmare... Not her own roommate.

     An unfamiliar pounding beat in her ears; was that her heart? Were hearts supposed to be audible? Stars, she felt like her breath was caught in her throat, but there was nothing actually obstructing the former gem’s airways. Her chest was so tight, as though the visceral sense of fear had clamped around her abdomen like a metal vice.

     Every tiny animal instinct in her body was screaming at her to run, hide, escape, but that wasn’t much of an option at the moment.

     The gold-streaked gem was glaring at her grimly, expression charged with a vague sense of annoyance and contempt. Three of her wings had curled around from the left, wrapping around Peridot’s middle and holding her aloft; her limbs dangled helplessly, entirely out of reach of the floor. She kicked a few times furiously, but to no avail. Lapis’s expression didn’t change at all.

     “Are you done? I could put you in a timeout bubble until you cool off, but I hear humans need air.” Peridot immediately stiffened.

     “Yes, I’m ‘done,’” she replied meekly, struggling to find the right words. This definitely had to look pretty bad. As far as Lapis knew, the terrified human was a home invader at best. Gems didn’t just turn into humans, this was entirely unprecedented-- and she didn’t even have an explanation for it! Stars, what was she going to do?! Peridot was pretty sure Lapis wouldn’t actually hurt her on purpose, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t by accident.

     Wow, it was weird actually being nervous about those violent jokes that the duo had previously tossed around like they were nothing. They were just jokes, right? Peridot suddenly wasn’t as sure of that as she’d have liked.

     “Good.” Lapis scrutinized her a moment, eyes scanning over her as the blue gem picked up on a few details in sequence... Then focused very specifically on the necklace, or rather, on its crystalline adornment. Her gaze darkened, and Peridot felt that fear grip her all the more tightly as she realized this looked even worse than she’d initially thought.

     Oh stars. She thinks that’s my gem. It looks just like it.

     “What,” demanded the figure coldly, “Is that?” One sharp claw pointed straight to it, and the water tendrils around Peridot’s middle tightened abruptly-- she gasped in alarm, grabbing at them with her hands. It did no good, her fingers sliding through the liquid uselessly. Peridot was yanked closer, one of Lapis’s hands reaching out and grabbing onto the necklace to get a better look.

     There was a long, uncomfortable silence; she had just enough space to breathe, but not very deeply. Mostly it just hurt, her ribs tightly compressed under the heavy pressure. Is she actually going to crush me?! I can’t believe I’ve only been a human for 15 minutes and I’m already going to--

     “You have a really weird sense of humor.” The necklace slid from Lapis’s grasp, and the tendrils loosened. She immediately took deep gulps of fresh oxygen into her lungs, already feeling a bit better. The air definitely helped clear her head slightly, allowing for a few coherent thoughts to take form.

     ... Humor? What’s she talking about..?

     “Just-- let me down--!” It wasn’t the most eloquent reaction, but at this point Peridot wasn’t sure she could formulate anything better. “This isn’t what it looks like!” Lapis raised one eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

     “Then what is it? Because right now, I think I’ve captured a member of Peridot’s weird fanclub that came in here looking for a keepsake. I guess you really do exist.” Peridot stared. That... Was not the conclusion she’d been expecting. Maybe the necklace wasn’t as exact as she’d thought; it wasn’t like Peridot could actually study the shape of her own gem while she was poofed. She might have laughed if this wasn’t such a tense situation.

     At the very least, the ridiculousness did manage to calm her nerves a bit.

     “Well,” she decided finally with just the smallest hint of smugness, “I guess that’s technically correct, I’m a very big fan of myself.” Lapis stared at her even more intensely; Peridot hadn’t even known that was possible. Maybe that had been a bit too bold. Suddenly she felt like a scared rabbit, wanting to just shrink and disappear down a hole.

     “... What.” She could practically see the gears turning in her roommate’s head; this was probably at least the third tensest silence of Peridot’s existence, and she really wasn’t enjoying it.

     Then finally it broke with a surprising sound. Snort. Suddenly Lapis was laughing, and although the water holding Peridot aloft didn’t release her, she did notice herself being lowered to the floor. She couldn’t have been more confused, did that actually work? It sort of seemed that way, though the gem-turned-human had a feeling it wasn’t quite that simple.

     “Okay,” Lapis stated finally, “Either you’re some sort of weird human alternate, or that was the best Peridot impression I’ve ever heard.”

     On second thought, that was actually a pretty reasonable conclusion.

     “Nyeheh,” she chuckled nervously, “Close. It’s...” Peridot paused, suddenly not sure how she’d even explain this. “It’s just me, Peridot, but somehow I’ve been transformed into a human. It doesn’t make any sense to me, either.” Judging by he look on Lapis’s face, that apparently wasn’t very convincing... Her green eyes scanned over the area; was there anything she could use to prove it? Wait, my tablet! She instinctively attempted to draw it to her hand, but to no avail; her hand lifted, but the device gave no response. No metal powers. Right. Ugh.

     “... Very funny. Now, what’s the real story? That’s impossible.” Lapis was waiting, but the look on her face wasn’t patient. Peridot cleared her throat; stars why was this so hard? She could hardly remember a time when Lapis was actually scary to her. It was like the technician was facing her own newfound mortality.

     “Okay,” she decided finally, “Just... Try the tablet. They can sort it out, probably. You can use my account, just make sure to introduce yourself so they know who’s speaking.” The hydrokinetic gem followed her gaze to the tablet, frowning. Finally she strode over, scooping the device up and taking a seat on the hammock nearby.

     The water bindings finally withdrew, releasing Peridot entirely. “I’ll try it, but don’t go anywhere.” Peridot nodded anxiously and seated herself on the bench nearby. Lapis promptly started tapping away on the screen, scrolling through posts and starting to type up one of her own.

     Now Peridot just had to wait. Hopefully this wouldn’t end with being chucked into the ocean; she was suddenly very aware of her inability to swim.