#i feel like i’ve been losing my youthful glow lately and i’m

[malakhim]

silly day

[wellthebardsdead]

Everything I Wanted Sojiro X Fem Reader

Pasted from my old account. My works are by no means perfect and are riddled with grammatical errors but I do this for fun so, enjoy ~Bambi

~I had a dream... I got everything I wanted...~

How did it come to this?... why did it come to this?... you’d spent your whole life trying to be a good person, a model citizen, the daughter your parents always wanted, a perfect girlfriend and future wife to your boyfriend... you tried to become what everyone wanted...

~not what you’d think...~

You looked over the lip of the rooftop down at the city streets below. The rain made everything sparkle in the warm glow of neon light, it poured down your face mingling with your tears. Your hair wet and stringy, your blouse and skirt soaked... you took off your shoes and climbed over the railing before standing on the edge...

As your grip began to loosen up you heard a deep, firm, but gentle voice call out for you over the ambiance of the rain and the city life below. “Y/N!”

~and if I’m being honest it might have been a nightmare... to anyone who might care...~

———

You could hardly contain your excitement as you rushed into your apartment carrying the large garment bag, your dress was finally ready, it wouldn’t be long before the wedding.

To everyone who knew you, your life looked perfect, the model daughter of two successful entrepreneurs of a tech company that was recently sold allowing them to retire in luxury.

You were everything they wanted you to be. Beautiful, smart, poised, and kind. You lived in a nice apartment with your fiancé, a handsome and wealthy businessman who doubled as your manager at your parents now former company, your manager, his name was Hitoshi.

You’d worked so hard to build up this life, you thought it was perfect, if this is what everyone wanted for you this must be what you want right?...

After fumbling with your keys you bustled into the apartment. Your fiancé had already left for work. As you walked into the bedroom your heart fluttered seeing a red box, you set your dress and a folder of paperwork down and opened it to find an expensive set of lingerie, you gladly tried it on, it felt a little tight... You didn’t mind, you were losing a bit more weight before the wedding anyway. Maybe this was a surprise for the honeymoon he’d forgotten to hide, or maybe he’d left it as a bit of motivation for you.

Either way it looked nice. You took it off and placed it back in the box before putting your dress away in the closet. You had just enough time left of your lunch break to freshen up and head back to work.

After making sure you were presentable you left.. forgetting the folder of documents you’d left on your bed...

———

You worked as a secretary at your parents now former business, they offered you higher positions many times but you wanted to earn those positions, they were extremely proud of you for your decision. You worked hard, and you were due for a promotion very soon, one that’d move you to your fiancés department. You were so excited that you’d get to work along side Hitoshi.

As you approached the building you smiled seeing painters renovating the outside. They were applying the new owners logo, Shimada enterprise. You’d have to thank the new CEO for allowing your parents to retire.

You stepped inside and walked past the receptionist desk, it was empty again... There was a new girl working, Ichika. You weren’t sure of her last name but she’d been there a few weeks, and she had a bad habit of slacking off. You sighed spotting 24 missed calls on the phone. You some files on her desk before walking to the elevator and riding up to your office.

There were a couple men in the elevator, one a young gentlemen around your age, a nice blue and black vest, a white button up and smart black slacks. His hair was short with a slightly long fringe and he had well groomed facial hair. The other man was taller, dressed in a black suit, black hair greying slightly around the sides yet his face looked rather youthful, strong jawline, sharp eyebrows and a piercing gaze.

The two nodded at you in greeting and you returned the same with a smile assuming they must be business associates. They returned to their conversation and you checked through emails on your phone until the lift reached your stop. You couldn’t help but eavesdrop a little, apparently they turned up and the receptionist wasn’t there, after 5 minutes of waiting they decided to head up to find whomever was managing all the departments today...

As you stepped off you swear you heard one of them say to the other that you were cute. Your face went bright red and you booked it off pretending you didn’t hear.

Before heading to your desk you made your way to your fiancés office. As you approached it you saw Ichika step out giggling back at the doorway. She jumped seeing you standing there. “O oh miss L/N!! I was just dropping off some pap-” she stammered out before you cut her off. “That’s not part of your job. You’re meant to hand them over to me first for revision and then I hand them to whomever the recipient is. You’ve missed 24 calls possibly more in the time it took me to get here, and on top of that what appeared to be two business associates were left waiting at the front desk for you! Go back to your desk.” You say firmly. You were getting sick of her finding excuses to leave her desk like this.

She quickly scurried off past you, something about her... there was something that just rubbed you the wrong way. You stepped into your fiancés office and smiled seeing him there, he heard you come in and turned on his heal, “hmm forget something ich- Y-Y/N!” He stammered out surprised. The tone of his voice caught you off guard, “of course it’s me. Why do you keep allowing her to drop work to run files up to you? The phones have been ringing off the hook today and she wasn’t there to answer them.” You say annoyed.

“Ah come on Y/N, she’s new.” He says walking to you planting a kiss on your lips. “She’s been here for over 3 weeks, she has no excuse I’ve warned her plenty of times. Just because my parents no longer own this business doesn’t mean I’m going to allow the quality of our service drop.” You say before kissing him back. You caught a whiff of Ichikas perfume... maybe she just applied a little too much and brushed against Hitoshi, yes that had to be it...

He sighed. “If you say so.” He shrugged, “I’ll have a chat with her.” He smiled. You smiled back before kissing him again. “Thank you, she’s been making my job hard enough as is.” You sigh. “Thank you for that little surprise too by the way. It was very comfy~” you giggle. He blinked looking at you a little confused before it clicked in his brain. -shit!! I forgot to hide it!- he thought. “O-oh yeah baby! Ah damn it I was going to hide it for our wedding night. Did I leave it on the bed?” He says rubbing his head.

You nod and giggle. “Mhm, don’t worry~ I’ll pretend I didn’t see it.” You say placing a finger to your lips and winking. He chuckled and hugged you close giving you another kiss. “Thanks baby~” he smiled. “I gotta get back to work now, I’ll be home late tonight.” You sigh. “I’ve got a heap of new contracts I have to sort out.”

He nodded and smiled, “I’ll see you when you get home, no need to rush. Text me when you leave Kay?” He asks. He’d suddenly gotten into a habit of asking that whenever you’d be working late... you assumed it was just because he was worried for your safety working so late at night. You nod and smile, “I will.” You say before kissing him once more and walking out to your office.

———

The day dragged on and soon the afternoon turned into the evening. It was getting late and you were getting hungry.

As you finished the stack of paperwork you went to move onto the folder of contracts... it wasn’t there. You panicked looking through your bag, your desk, as you scanned your memory it clicked... the bed. You’d left it on the bed at home...

You sigh getting up, you’d have to go and get it. At least it’d give you an opportunity to get something to eat, and see your love...

Picking up your bag you called for a cab and headed to the elevator. You jumped as it opened to see one of the men from this morning, the one in the black suit. “Hm oh didn’t mean to startle you miss.” He chuckled a little, he had a deep voice, it matched his powerful exterior perfectly. “O-oh no no it’s fine!” You say flustered before stepping in and hitting the ground floor.

“You’re here awfully late. Do you often stay after hours?” He asked checking his watch. You shrug a little, “hm, not really sir. But these past few weeks I’ve unfortunately had to take up extra work due to the new receptionists underperformance.” You sigh. “Oh w-where are my manners! I’m Y/N L/N!” You stammer out bowing politely.

He chuckled, “it’s nice to see at least someone here is working hard then, it’s a pleasure to meet you miss L/N, I’m S-” the lift suddenly jerked violently and the lights shut off. You stumbled forward and prepared to hit the floor but instead you felt a pair of strong arms grasp hold of you keeping you steady. “Are you alright?” He whispers. He smelt so nice, a mix between citrus, sandalwood, and undertones of cherry blossom with a hint of musk.

You nod as he helped you up right. “I’m fine sir, th-thank you for catching me.” You were thankful for the lack of light, you could feel how hot your face was with blush right now. “Don’t mention it.” He says softly.

After another moment the lights clicked back on and the back up system kicked in. The power must have shut off... the lift opened at the ground floor and you were right, there was a huge storm outside, it must have cut power off to most of the street. At least with the backup generator you could keep working. “Would you like a lift?” He asked as you two approached the doors.

You went to answer as suddenly your cab pulled up outside. “Ah no thank you, this is my ride.” You smile and bow politely. “Goodnight sir.” You say before rushing out to the cab. You never did get his name.

As you got into the cab and drove off an omnic walked to the building holding an umbrella. “A new acquaintance Master Shimada?” It asked as he stepped under the umbrella lighting a cigarette. “Not yet... but... I’d like her to be.” He says as he walked to his car.

———

The taxi pulled up outside your apartment, you paid in full plus a generous tip asking them to please wait for you to come back before rushing inside. You’d forgotten to text Hitoshi you were coming but you figured it’d be fine. The power was out here but you could see light coming from the bedroom. Turning on your phone flashlight you spotted the folder on the kitchen counter... along with the now empty red box...

You turned the flashlight to see your fiancés shirt and pants on the floor leading through the hallway bedroom... you quietly walked towards it when you heard it, moaning... a woman moaning...

Creeping closer you peered through the opening in the doorway, big enough to see through, small enough to hide you from view... you stifled a shocked gasp as you saw your fiancé, with Ichika. She was dressed in the lingerie set and laying on her back between his legs...

Tears poured down your face... you turned and walked out taking the folder with you... you got back into the cab and returned back to work...

The driver was thankfully kind enough to give you the return drive for free after seeing the distraught expression on your face. You thanked him and returned back to your office... as you sat down at your desk you started to sob... you buried your face into your hands and you just sobbed.

It was around 2am when you finished the paperwork... you heard your phone buzz, Hitoshi. “Baby it’s late, when are you coming home?” You felt sick reading that, you replied simply. “On my way, we need to talk.”

You packed up your work for the night and turned off the lights. The rain had become little more than a drizzle at this point so you found yourself walking along the lonely streets. The power had come back on and the neon lights of store fronts sparkled in the puddles that lined the pavement. It helped distract you from the inevitable pain that awaited you when you got home...

———

You stifled back sobs as you quietly packed up your desk into a cardboard box. After arriving home last night you fought with your now ex-fiancé... he’d decided to leave you for Ichika. He threw you out after making you pack up all your belongings minus the furniture... and your wedding dress and engagement ring... -you don’t need need them. And they’ll look far better on her anyway! I spent too much money on this wedding as is to just cancel it- his words replayed in your head.

She’d be enjoying your wedding, wearing your dress, and your ring...

And to add insult to injury he’d given her your promotion too... and as a result gave you her job instead... now here you were moving your belongings down to reception all the while trying desperately not to cry...

You approached the elevator to see the doors closing, and inside Hitoshi and Ichika... they looked at you, and smirked... “hold the door!” That voice. You turned to see the man from last night approaching.

Hitoshi immediately panicked and held open the lift. “Y-yes sojiro san! I I mean Mr Shimada!!!” He stammered out. Your ears perked up, Shimada... this was your new employer!!

He stepped into the lift before looking at you. “Ah good morning Y/N. Aren’t you coming?” He asks gesturing to his side. You glance at your ex and his mistress before looking back at Sojiro... he had a nice smile... you stepped in and stood at his side.

Sojiro could sense something was very wrong... he wasn’t an ordinary man... -hurt... shes... hurt...- a deep booming voice sounded in his head. He glanced down at you to see your shoulders shaking and your lip quivering as you held back tears. And for whatever reason the two in the lift with you were the ones causing you this distress... -betrayed... betrayed... kill... kill...- the voice sounded again.

As soon as the lift doors open you stepped out quickly without another word and went to the receptionist desk. Sojiro watched you quietly begin to unpack your things before casting a glance at your ex that could cut holes through his soul... he watched him rush off with his new lover in hand...

He looked back at you... This shouldn’t be any of his concern but... His heart wanted you... -sad... help... help her....- the voice whispered... “I will... just be patient...” he whispered back.

———

A few weeks had passed by.

Youd gotten yourself your own place, a tiny and empty apartment... it was all you could afford on your new salary. Your bed was a futon, you had a small coffee table that acted as your kitchen table too, and a tiny kitchenette and bathroom...

You tried contacting your parents to ask them for help but to your horror they sided with your ex. They said you clearly hadn’t been performing well enough as his future wife so it’s only fair that he’d replace you... you hung up without saying another word...

Your life had crumbled around you, the life you’d spent your whole existence building. The one you were expected to build, the one everyone wanted... but was it what you wanted to begin with?... What did you want?...

Every day at work was a misery, Hitoshi and Ichika seemed to be intentionally throwing more and more your way, jobs that weren’t even any of your business were now your responsibility... they were trying to make you quit. And at this stage you were really considering it.

The only saving grace was your lunch break... youd find yourself up on the roof all alone. You’d eat there staring at the city life below. All those happy lives... It wasn’t long though before you had unexpected company. One afternoon you were surprised to find Sojiro had stepped out for a smoke, he asked to join you and you said yes.

He was so easy to talk to, despite his intimidating exterior he was so kind and honestly a little goofy in your company. He had the most gentle smile when he looked at you.

Sojiro wanted so badly to know more about you, to ask why you were hurting, to whisk you away from it all and take you somewhere safe. Every time he was close to you that voice in his head would sing out wanting you to be nearer.

He found himself at his desk late one night filing through paperwork, but all he could think of was you... curiosity got the better of him and he looked at your file. His heart fluttered seeing your face... he felt like a fool for hoping someone as young and pretty as you would want him, he hadn’t loved another since his wife had passed away giving birth to his second born. He was lonely, he buried himself in his work and any free time he had was devoted to his sons... but they were grown up now... and his heart was aching for love.

He looked through your file with interest. You were the daughter of the previous owners, the fact that you never mentioned it to him boggled his brain. He should have guessed that by your last name but even still he thought you would have mentioned it once at least... Maybe you didn’t want special treatment he wondered.

What didn’t make sense to him was why you were moved to a lowly receptionist job. You were practically over qualified for your old position too, heck you were more qualified for your ex’s position than he was.

His ear twitched hearing a low chittering noise from behind him. “Yes I know... isn’t she pretty.” He smiled reaching back and scratching the scaly cheek of a large black dragon... -help... her... help... love...- It groaned.

“Shhh I know... I know...” he cooed softly as it rested it’s head on his shoulder before changing to the size of a large snake and draping itself around his neck. He gave it another scratch before continuing to read your employee file... his eye caught the document below yours, Ichikas.

He read through hers and scowled, there was no way in hell she was qualified for your job, he could feel his dragon tense up before it snarled at the screen. “Shh... don’t worry... we’re going to fix this.” He cooed.

———

You sighed stepping into work, you had trouble sleeping last night after the storm woke you up. Summer in Japan was beautiful but the humidity often lead to some extreme weather. And last night the thunder and lightning practically shook your tiny apartment to its foundation. Thankfully it had died down to just a downpour, but it was supposed to be picking up again this evening...

Shaking off your umbrella you walked to your desk and blinked. A stunning arrangement of flowers all heavily significant of love sat on your chair, along with a box of chocolates. There was only a card that said “To my dearest Y/N, I hope this gift brings you reason to smile..” No signature... you didn’t recognise the handwriting either. Even still... it wasnt a cheap assortment, someone must care.

The gift was just what you needed to put a little spring into your step. You proudly displayed the flowers for all to see and you picked one of the chocolates to enjoy, you’d save the rest for when you went home.

You wore a smile on your face throughout the day, and it only got bigger as everyone who approached the desk commented on how pretty they were, and how lucky you are. Despite the rainy weather outside this was a much needed ray of sunshine in your life.

It was nearing your lunch break, you hadn’t seen Sojiro today. Normally he’d accompany you on the lift, or stop by to say hello... you felt dumb for missing his absence but... he’d become the only positive you had left in your life now... you’d developed feelings for him... you thought maybe... you wanted him...

The rustling of leaves and petals caught your attention. You looked up to see Ichika plucking flowers from your gift. “H-hey cut it out those are mine!” You shout standing up. “Oh get over yourself Y/N! It’s just a couple for my desk.” She says waving her hand before reaching to take another. You grab the flowers and move them away. “You mean my desk that you fucked my ex to get you homewrecking cow!!” You shout.

She scowled and scrunched up her nose. “Woooow real professional Y/N. Bringing personal life into work. Why don’t you act your wage and-” a deep voice suddenly cut her off. “Get back to work.” Your heart fluttered, Sojiro...

You both looked at him as he approached. “Y-yes sir I was just telling her t-” Ichika stammered out as he stepped between her and the desk. “I was talking to you.” He scowled. She practically shrunk under his gaze before skulking away.

He watched her leave, his stance proud and fearsome, it softened as he looked at you. He always looked so relaxed around you. “Are you okay Y/N?...” he frowned.

“Y-yes...” you lie. No. No you weren’t okay. Your whole body was trembling and tears were already pouring down your face. He took your hand in his and handed you a tissue to dry them. You were so distraught you didn’t even realise he was holding you as he led you to the lift for your lunch break.

There was an undercover area on the roof, with a table and chairs, it offered a nice view of the cityscape despite the rain. While everywhere else was drenched, here it was bone dry. You calmed down after he sat you down, even still your lip quivered as you hiccuped pitiful little sobs.

He dried your tears after a moment and handed you a sandwich from a cafe you liked. He’d gotten into a habit of bring an extra one for you knowing that money was tight at the moment. “...I’m sorry you had to see that...” you whispered. He glanced at you as he lit a cigarette, “don’t be... if I’d heard another word leave her mouth id be apologising to you for witnessing me punch her.” He says taking a drag.

“You wouldn’t have to apologise to me for that...” you smile sadly, your eyes red and tired... always so tired now... he wanted to see you happy, rested, enjoying your life... he wanted to give you the life you deserved... you were everything he wanted. But he was afraid you’d reject him because he was older... or if you did accept him... would you accept all of him?... The gentle businessman facade was only a part of who he was...

“I don’t think I’ll be around here much longer anyway...” you say suddenly as you take a bite of your sandwich. His stomach dropped. “What? Why?” He says sounding more upset then you were expecting. “I just... I don’t belong here anymore Sojiro... I see my ex and that.. bitch every day... my parents don’t even want to be associated with me anymore.” You sniffle.

“Then I’ll fire them.” He says simply. “what? N no please! Don’t...” you say softly. “Just.. because my life didn’t work out doesn’t mean thei-” you try to protest but he cut you off. “Your heart is too kind for your own good Y/N... very well... but if this continues then I’ll have no choice.” He says stubbing out his cigarette butt as you finished your sandwich. You nod and placed the empty wrapper in the bin. “I understand...” you say softly.

You hated your ex, you hated Ichika, but you were too kind a person, you didn’t want revenge, you just wanted them to leave you alone... “y/n...” Sojiro says as he gently took your hand. “I... have something I want to as-” a younger mans voice sounded from the lift. “Tou-san! There you are! The meetings already started!” You recognised him, he was one of sojiros sons, the oldest. You’d seen him the day you met Sojiro in the lift. Hanzo you think is name was.

Sojiro sighed pinching his brow. “I’m afraid it’ll have to wait. I’ll talk to you later y/n. Come on.. let’s head back in before it gets too heavy.” He says softly. You nod and stand up, still holding his hand. He held his coat over you as you two ran back to the lift. His son gave you two a look, not one of disapproval, more of a knowing glance. As if to say when are you two getting together...

The three of you chatted until they had to get off at their floor. You said your goodbyes and returned to reception. You were feeling better, talking with Sojiro always cheered you up. As you walked to your desk though the spring in your step died... the flowers were gone...

You rushed to your desk to find them in the bin, crushed with all the heads cut off. And the chocolates all eaten. There was a sticky note on the box that simply read ‘thanks for lunch :)’ it was Ichikas handwriting... next to it there was a mountain of folders, and another note that read, ‘I want this done by tomorrow morning...’

You held back a sob, your chest hurt, it was getting hard to breath... you cowered under your desk ignoring the phone as it rang. The walls were caving in, your face felt tingly and your head tight, your hands cold and numb with sweaty palms. You’d grown up your whole life dealing with anxiety attacks, the pressure to be perfect was overbearing. You should be used to them but they were never this bad before.

-ground yourself... think of something you like, something you want...Sojiro...- you thought... immediately the pressure in your chest released... you thought of his scent, his eyes, his smile... his hand holding yours... you had to talk to him...

After a few moments you composed yourself... it was over... you got up and sat in your chair, emotionally and mentally drained... they say everyone no matter how happy has their breaking point. And you were at yours...

———

~Thought I could fly~

———

It was around 9pm... you’d finally finished. You started to pack up when a loud slap made you jump out of your skin. You look up to see a large folder of paperwork in front of you and Hitoshi and Ichika walking away laughing. “This too, I want it on my desk tomorrow by 7am!” Hitoshi says waving at you. “Oh and, thanks for the chocolates~” Ichika laughed as they stepped out heading for their car... you fell back into your seat... defeated...

You just sat there... watching as the downpour outside turned into a storm... it was 11:30pm when you finally stood up. You walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water onto your face in an attempt to look presentable... you saw your reflection...

Your hair was a mess, your eyes tired and heavy, your lips cracked and bloody from chewing at them, and your skin pale from stress and stained with tears. You stared into your sad eyes, “failure...” you muttered to yourself... Once the ‘perfect’ daughter your parents always desired, the once perfect girlfriend, the once star employee... all gone... all that was left was your bare self,... and you didn’t even know who you truely were.

You’d lost everything, everything you’d worked so hard to build up, the perfect life everyone wanted... but was it truely what you wanted? what did you want?... you wanted to escape...

The bathroom door creaked as you exited and headed for the lift...

...

~so I stepped off the golden mm,.. nobody cried...~

...

You didn’t hold onto the rails as the lift carried you up, you didn’t so much as flinch as it stopped either, you stared right ahead. There’s no such thing as a perfect life... and if there’s such thing as a perfect person it wasn’t you.. you’d failed everyone... you were never the perfect daughter... nobody would love you... nobody would miss you...

...

~Nobody even noticed, I saw them standing right there...~

...

The rain bucketed down in sheets... you looked up at the clouds as lightning flashed and the thunder roared like the cries of an angry beast... you threw your head back and started to laugh as tears poured down your face, you screamed at the storm as it did to you...

You walked to the edge...

...

~I kind of thought they might care...~

...

You looked over the lip of the rooftop down at the city streets below. The rain made everything sparkle in the warm glow of neon light, it poured down your face mingling with your tears. Your hair wet and stringy, your blouse and skirt soaked... you took off your shoes and climbed over the railing before standing on the edge...

As your grip began to loosen up you heard a deep, firm, but gentle voice call out for you over the ambiance of the storm and the city life below. “Y/N!”

...

~I had a dream, I got everything I wanted. But when I wake up, I see, you with me~

...

You look back to see Sojiro running towards you... He stopped just feet away, holding out his hand to you. “Y/N it’s alright... I’m here... come here...” he called softly.

“I’m going to do it!! Don’t try to stop me!” You screamed at him, “I’ve tried so hard to be everything everyone wanted me to be! I tried to do everything right! I’ve fucked it all up! It’s my fault he left me! It’s my fault my parents disowned me!! I’m not what they wanted!!” You cry.

He took another step closer, “Forget what everyone else wants of you Y/N!! What do you want?” He asks... What did you want?... you look down at the city below... “do you want this?...” he asked.

“No...” you reply. “Come down then... come to me...” he cooed... -he’s what I want...- you think...

...

~And you said...~

...

“Come here Y/N... as long as I’m here no one can hurt you...” he says stepping closer again.

As you turned around your bare foot slipped on the cement, and your grip on the railing released... you looked at him as you fell...

...

~I tried to scream... but my head was under water...~

...

It felt surreal, you fell with the rain. It was as if the droplets were suspended in mid air as you whizzed past them. The wind lashed at your drenched body and whistled through your ears, all you could hear was your heartbeat.

...

~they called me weak... like I’m not just somebody’s daughter...~

It didn’t feel real... you watched as suddenly Sojiro jumped off the edge after you... and in seconds he held you tightly in his arms.

You swear you saw a flash of black scales before suddenly the world went black...

...

~Could’ve been a nightmare...~

...

You opened your eyes briefly as you were shifted into someone’s lap... you were in a car. You recognised that scent... Sojiro... you were safe.. you let out a soft sigh as you felt him shift his coat around you and rub your back... your eyelids fluttered closed again and you faded back into unconsciousness...

———

The sound of bird song woke you up... you opened your eyes to find yourself in a very traditional buf luxurious looking room. The bed you lay in at first looked like an ordinary futon but that was only the blanket. The bed itself was imbedded into the floor like the worlds softest nest.

There were two doors, one that must lead further into the building and another that was open, it lead out to a beautiful garden. You saw sparrows and red breasted robins bouncing about on the porch eating seed. The sunshine danced in the ornately groomed trees and sparkled on the ponds surface, It was picturesque.

“Ah! Good morning miss L/N. I’m so happy to see you’re awake! Master Shimada will be so happy to hear you’re alright.” A female omnic voice... you look back at the doorway to see a very elegantly designed geisha like omnic enter with a tray. On it a lovely breakfast and some juice.

“Oh hello... I... where am I?” You ask as she set the tray in your lap before going about her tasks. “Hanamura castle of course. Master Sojiros home.” She giggled. It took a moment for that to register in your brain. The man you’d been conversing with as if he were your best friend, the man who saved you last night, was practically royalty.

“Wha?...” was all you could manage out. She could only giggle, “I understand it’s much to take in. Master Sojiro wanted to be here for when you woke but he had some business to attend to at the new enterprise, oh! Speaking of which. He wants you to stay in bed today... but if you wish to go to work he has a car for you to take.” She says as she began to comb your hair.

The idea of staying in bed after last night sounded perfect but... “may I take the car please? I have so much work to do I can’t rest...” you say softly. The need to be perfect, the need to please others... it had been beaten into your mind... you were hardly holding yourself together right now...

Even still the omnic didn’t argue. She got you dressed into a blouse and skirt that costed more than anything you’d ever owned and she escorted you to the car. “Are you sure you don’t wish to change your mind?” She asks after helping you into the car. “I don’t know what I want anymore...” you say meekly. If she could frown that comment would have made her do so with worry... “I’ll inform master Sojiro.” She says bowing before closing the door.

The driver started the engine and the next thing you knew you were off. You’d only ever been to hanamura a few times, it seemed to always be blanketed in pink. The land of eternal cherry blossoms all year round until winter would come and coat everything white.

You’d always wanted to live here... but your parents wanted you to live closer to the business, closer to them... but now... maybe you could live here after all. What did Sojiro mean by wanting you to stay in bed? Why did he bother saving you? How did he save you for that matter? Why these nice clothes? These gifts? Did this mean he wanted you?... no... he was just pitying you... you were sure of it...

The car pulled up in the underground car park, it was mostly used by the engineers who designed prototypes for your company, you’d rarely been down here at all in your time with the company. The omnic driver stepped out and opened your door for you before you had the chance to. “Th thank you...” you say softly. He helped you out and nodded. “I’ll be down here when you’re ready to leave madam.” He bowed.

You nodded and thanked him once more before heading up to reception... you blinked seeing Ichika sitting at your desk looking pale as a sheet. “Where’s my stuff?...” you ask softly, your voice so quiet and tired.

She nearly jumped out of her skin seeing you. “I.. I I i” she tried to speak... she looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Y/N!” Sojiro suddenly called from behind you. You didn’t think it possible but Ichikas face went even paler...

He rushed over and gently embraced you as you turned around... you melted into his touch, so desperate for positive contact. “What are you doing here? You should be resting.” He says softly but sternly. You look down at your feet and nod. “I-I had paperwork I never finished last night for Ichika and I left my bag here too I-I’m sorry.” You stammer out.

You jumped as he cupped your chin in his hand and made you look up at him, “it’s alright... your stuff is in my office dear. If you insist on working I have a few things I need organised. But I’d like you to please take it easy today.” He says as he stroked your cheek with this thumb.

Your face went bright red at the contact, you nodded. “Y-yes mr Shimada.” You squeak out. He chuckled, “why so formal now?...” he smiled. “Come along Y/N, I’ll get you settled into my office then I have to attend a meeting with some... unsavoury individuals.” He says glancing at Ichika who’d been gawking this whole time. She jumped and immediately got back to work...

He took your hand in his and pulled you close, your face was beat red now, you walked beside him obediently to his office.

After getting you settled with the paperwork you had to organise he suddenly placed a blanket and pillow on the large sofa he had near the bookshelf. “if you get tired please rest. One of my sons will come by to check up on you around lunch time.” He smiled. God, his smile.

You nod and immediately get to work, “y/n...” he suddenly says. You look up and almost jump out of your skin. How did he cross the room that quickly? and without you noticing? “I hope Ive made it obvious enough that asking this question would be foolish of me but...” before he could finish the door opened. “Tou-san. They’re waiting for you.” A young man entered, Sojiros youngest, Genji.

He had green hair and wore a nice suit similar to his fathers but had a tie matching his neon hairstyle. He looked similar to Sojiro, definitely had the same nose and eyebrows, though his eyes seemed a lot more bubbly than his fathers. He must get them from his mother.

Sojiro sighed and nodded. “Very well.” He looked back at you. “I need to speak to you after I’m done. I might be a while. So if you need to rest please do.” He says gently taking your hand and squeezing it before walking out. Genji looked at you and gave you the same look Hanzo did but, he looked a little more giddy than his older brother had. He bowed politely before closing the door.

The day ticked by slowly. Genji returned around lunch time as promised with something for you to eat. You two chatted as you ate, he was a lot more talkative than his father but just as easy to get along with. He mentioned that everyone in the company had heard of what happened last night, and they all knew Hitoshi and Ichika were to blame. That’s what the meeting was about apparently, a full staff briefing of workplace harassment followed by a private sit down with your abusers in question.

You wondered why you weren’t attending the full staff one but it made sense you didn’t, you weren’t well right now... and it seemed Sojiro wanted to keep you as far away from Ichika and Hitoshi as possible.

After eating Genji said his goodbyes once again before leaving you to your own devices... you looked at the paperwork... it had to be done but. Sojiro wanted you to rest... you wanted to make him happy... you wanted him. So you climbed onto the sofa and cuddled the blanket close. It wasn’t long before you were asleep.

-sleep... safe now... no one can hurt you...-

A deep but gentle voice sounded in your head. You looked up and saw those scales, the ones you remembered from last night... you followed them down to a pair of sharp claws. Then up to a large snarling lion like face... a dragon... “Safe...” it spoke. “What?...” you reply.

It lay it’s head down to be eye level with you. “You’re safe now...” it whispered, it sounded almost like music. “As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.” It repeated.

You reached your hand out and touched its nose making it sniff at you, “am I dreaming?... who are you?.. why am I here?...” you whisper. “You’ve suffered much your whole life... they tried to mould you into what they wanted. So much so that you’ve forgotten who you are... what you want... if I could change the way you see yourself... you wouldn’t wonder why you’re here.” It said nuzzling your hand.

...

~they don’t deserve you...~

...

You opened your eyes feeling a warm familiar hand on your cheek, it was just dark outside now... you blush seeing Sojiro smiling down at you, “did you sleep well?” He whispered. You nodded in response. “It’s time to go home now...” he sighed, “y/n... Will you come home with me again?... and live with me permanently?” He says softly.

It took a moment to click, he really did want you... you thought you were still dreaming, but it felt too real. “I... do you want me to?” You ask softly. He smiled and stroked your cheek, “the question is... do you want to?” He chuckled a little. “I... I...” you pause... “I want you.” Silence.

“I I mean! I want to be with you! That sounded too forward I’m so sorry I’ll go n-” you ramble out before his lips cut you off.

You let out a surprised gasp before your eyelids fluttered shut. You leaned into the kiss and he pulled you close and held you so gently it brought tears to your eyes. This was it... this is what you wanted. As you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders he scooped you up and cradled you like his new bride. “I promise... I’ll look after you...” he whispers. You nod in response.

He gently lay his coat over you and carried you from his office. He stepped into the lift and hit the basement level, the car park. You rested your head against his chest and hummed softly as he pressed his lips to your forehead. “What would you like for dinner dear?” He asks as the elevator suddenly stopped on the ground floor. “I... um...” you tried to think but your thoughts were silenced as the lift opened.

You blinked seeing Hitoshi and Ichika standing there both looking pale and terrified. Behind them, Hanzo and Genji stood quietly. Genji had seemingly ditched his suit jacket, his tie hung loose around his neck, and in his hand he held a baseball bat. -oh! He must be into sports!- you think innocently.

Sojiro gracefully stepped to the side allowing your ex and his mistress in, followed by his two sons. The ride down was painfully silent, you noticed Ichika and Hitoshi growing more and more agitated by the second... yet Sojiro and his sons remained calm as ever, smiling even.

You blushed a little as Sojiro held you closer, you couldn’t tell from this angle but it was clear he was looking at your ex, as if to say look at what you lost, she’s mine now. It made you feel so special.

As he shifted you, you caught a glimpse of something on his neck, tucked away under the collar of his shirt... a tattoo?... part of one... Tattoos weren’t uncommon in Japan, but they were heavily associated with the yakuza... no... maybe he got it as a memorial for his wife? Maybe it’s her favourite flower? Maybe it’s to show his love for his sons? Any of these were valid reasons. He couldn’t be a criminal, he couldn’t...

You glanced at hanzo... you could see a hint of blue ink on his exposed wrist... then Genji, you could see what looked like a green dragon through the fabric of his shirt... -calm down. I’m sure it’ll be okay. I’m sure they must have an explanation for this- you think.

The elevator reached the ground floor and the doors opened. Immediately Hitoshi and Ichika stepped out and began walking a little too quickly to be normal, they must have gotten a big talking to from Sojiro...

Hanzo and Genji both looked at each other, before glancing at their father... Sojiro nodded, and the two stepped out after your ex and his mistress... you felt a knot forming in your stomach...

Sojiro stepped out still holding you tightly as he texted the driver to come around to the lift entrance. “I know a place not far from here, I think you’ll like what they serve there.” He says smiling at you... you didn’t notice. You were too focused on Genji suddenly bringing the bat down hard on Ichikas back knocking her down before swinging up and hitting Hitoshi.

Your voice died in your throat watching the scene unfold. Hanzo pulled Hitoshi to his feet before punching him across the face so hard it broke his jaw. Genji swung it down on his legs breaking them in several places. Ichika got up screaming and pulling at the two trying to save your ex...

From the shadows of the car park several tattooed men in suits stepped out, they all looked at Sojiro... he nodded. Genji and Hanzo both stepped back, dropping Hitoshi’s now dead body to the concrete allowing the thugs to take over and deal with Ichika. You watched in horror as they flogged the living hell out of her... her screams burned into your mind...

“Y/N...” Sojiro whispered gently turning your head to face him. His expression wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t happy either, it was serious but... soft as it always was when he looked at you. “They don’t deserve you. Or your pity... they’ll never bother you again.” He smiled.

You nod, your whole body was trembling, you couldn’t make a sound. You were in shock. “Come, lets go home and then will see how you feel about dinner.” He says as the car pulled up. The omnic driver stepped out and opened the doors. Hanzo and Genji got in first, as Sojiro sat you in your seat you caught a glimpse of Ichikas face, still alive, still screaming, bloody, broken... they’d wiped that smug smile off her face for good... you felt guilty, but... part of you felt so good...

Sojiro got in and closed the door, his body keeping you from seeing anymore. He placed his arm around you and held you close. And here you sat, in an expensive car, with three extremely dangerous men. You look at Hanzo and Genji who were busy cleaning the blood off of themselves, you heard Genji muttering about it staining.

Hanzo looked up and smiled catching your gaze... it’d seem both the boys approved of your relationship with their father... you smile back and tiredly rest your head against Sojiro once more... Maybe... this would be okay...

———

~I had a dream... I got everything I wanted~

———

The car pulled up back at Hanamura castle. The boys jumped out first and rushed off inside to get cleaned up, undoubtably they had more than a little blood in their clothing.

Sojiro stepped out and lifted you back into his arms. He’d been silent the whole drive. He took you back to the room you’d woken up in, it was pretty clear now that this was in fact his room. “...I’m... sorry you had to see that Y/N...” he says removing his tie after he set you down on the bed.

You couldn’t answer, you couldn’t even find the words to after what you’d witnessed... “Y/N...” He says softly.

After a moment you willed yourself to look up at him. He was shirtless now, his body was god like. Perfectly toned muscles, smooth skin adorned with scars, and a giant black dragon tattoo that started at his neck and twisted around his torso. You assumed it kept going down to his leg but his trousers cut off your view. It was the same dragon from your dream... you were unsure if you should ask him about it but.. right now you weren’t sure about anything really...

You blushed and looked down shyly. He chuckled a little at the cute display of bashfulness. “Look at me Y/N...” he says kneeling down in front of you. You sheepishly obeyed looking at him. You locked your eyes with his gaze and felt entranced, you couldn’t look away... you didn’t want to...

“I’m sure it’s obvious what I actually do for a living by now my dear... but I assure you... I’ll keep you far away from any of my yakuza dealings... I never meant for you to see that... my temper got the better of me, I should have held off but...” he clenched his jaw, “They hurt you...” he sighed.

You trembled remembering the ordeal, but, after a moment you settled. Sojiro did that to protect you, to save you... he didn’t have to but... part of you couldn’t help but feel they deserved it. Even still, your lip quivered as tears threatened to pour.

He suddenly leaned in and kissed you. You gasped in surprise, but after a moment all your doubts, all your fears... everything melted away... you leaned into his touch as he pulled you into his lap deepening the kiss. His hand trailed down and rested on your waist, he wasn’t looking for sex, not tonight... Tonight he just wanted to hold you and keep you safe.

After a few blissful minutes you both broke the kiss gasping for air. Your eyes were dewy and your lips pink and swollen from the passionate embrace. “Let me look after you Y/N...” he says pressing his forehead to yours. “Let me give you everything you deserve... everything You want.” He whispered looking into your eyes.

You nod and lean in kissing him softly before pulling away. “Please... look after me...” you whisper. He kissed you back. “I will...” he sighed as a smile crept onto his lips once more.

It was comfortably silent for a moment as you rested your head against his chest, the skin on skin contact felt so nice, you didn’t realise how deprived of it you were. Your stomach suddenly growled and your face reddened as Sojiro laughed. “Oh, right, dinner!” He chuckled. You’d give anything to hear him laugh more often.

“Let’s get ready, the boys can come along too, they want to know more about their future step mother.” He smiled. Your face went a deeper shade of red and you buried your face into his neck shyly. You were so happy you couldn’t handle it.

He smiled and planted another soft kiss on your forehead. “Care to share a bath with me?” He whispered. You nodded maybe a little too eagerly. He couldn’t help but chuckle. He scooped you up and kissed you once more on the lips before whisking you away to the bathroom.

It’d still be a long while before you’d be better, but Sojiro would be there every step of the way to hold your hand and assure you you were loved. But for now, it’d seem you finally got everything you wanted.

...

~But when I wake up I see...you, with me...~

...

[dameronology]

a good jedi {obi-wan x reader}

summary: obi-wan kenobi always knows what to say, and he's always right - most the time, it's pretty annoying, but when you need advice? you're in luck. (this is platonic obi-wan x padawan! reader btw! for @raeshin -- i hope you enjoy!)

warnings: it probably has language in it somewhere? at this point i don't even know when i do and don't swear.

enjoy!! if you'd like to read more about commissioning a fic, the faqs are here :)

- jazz xx

The Jedi Temple had been scary at first.

With it's high walls and long, tangled history, you felt the pressure of being a warrior weigh on your shoulders almost the minute you set foot in the grand corridors. You'd been just a kid at the time - wide eyed and filled with some kind of weird, naive hope - but in your few, short years in the galaxy, you had heard more than enough about the Jedi. Who they were, and what they stood for; the adventures they went on and the way they brought balance to the Galaxy. The connection you felt to them had never seemed to be anything more than a youthful obsession with a world you wanted to be a part of.

Then, not long after your sixth birthday, things began to make sense. A mysterious man in a cloak paid your home planet a visit -- for you. Your interest in the Jedi hadn't been coincidental. Not in the slightest. Your connection to the Force was almost overwhelming, and it was something that Obi-Wan Kenobi could sense the minute he met you for the first time. For a young kid who had been torn away from their family and had the trajectory of their life changed entirely, your upbeat approach to the change of circumstance was pleasantly...surprising. It was clear from the get-go that you had a thirst for adventure, and a strong sense to do the right thing. Two things that, arguably, would have made you the perfect Jedi.

Obi-Wan was a good example of one; he was calm under pressure, patient as a mentor and things were never boring. It didn't take long for him to become like an older brother to you, and for that, you were grateful. There were other Padawans who hadn't been as lucky -- their mentors were either obsessed with the rules, or they were more preoccupied by their outstanding missions and meetings with the Council. Obi-Wan had always made you his main priority, focusing on your training and making sure that you didn't make the same mistakes as him (but let's face it -- were there many?).

Perhaps, it was that idolisation that had lead you to become scared of opening up to him about your own fears. Of course, he would never judge you, but the irrational, anxiety-induced voice in your head didn't know any better. You were terrified of letting him down, and even more fearful that he might lose faith in you for having doubts. Doubts in yourself, doubts in the Jedi, doubts in everything they stood for. What kind of warrior questioned their dedication and the morals of the order to which they were seemingly destined to be a part of? A bad one - or so you told yourself.

It had been easy to push them down at first; to brush aside your worries and tell yourself you were being silly. But, what had started as a little voice in the back of your head soon became a loud, all-consuming bellow. It was hard to ignore, especially now that Obi-Wan had thrown around the idea of beginning practice for your trials. You were no longer a child anymore, but a young adult. It was time for you to start moving up in the world, and in the Jedi Order, and that would mean reaffirming your commitment to them. You'd near enough dedicated two decades of your life to the cause, but it was only now that the doubt was truly starting to plague you.

It was becoming harder to hide it from Obi-Wan. Not only was he extremely intuitive and pragmatic in himself, but the Force connection that your Jedi-mentor relationship had provided you with made it even harder to kick your emotions under the fridge like ice and pretend they weren't there. Even when you gave him your best fake smile and promised you were excited for what was to come, he saw right through it. Your thinly-veiled emotions were no match for a man who could read you like a book.

"We have to report the council." Obi-Wan said. He stepped aside, allowing you to exit the ship with him in tow. "It might be useful for you to deliver the mission report. Good practice for when you're out there on your own-"

"- master, we haven't even got a date for when I'll be doing the trials." You cut him off. The Temple wasn't too far of a walk, but it took you through the gardens. "I'd rather not get ahead of myself."

"It's always better to be a few steps ahead then a few steps behind." He shot back.

"Yeah, I suppose." You muttered. "I think I'm where I need to be right now. Not ahead, nor behind."

He thinned his eyes at you. "If you're sure."

"Very." You forced a smile. "Besides, I'm tired out. It's been a long few days."

"I find myself doubting the sincerity of your statement given that you threatened Anakin over a game of holochess just mere seconds ago-"

"- he was cheating!" You exclaimed. "But really, master, I am shattered. I'd be grateful if you'd let me retire for the night, unless you're really that desperate for my presence in front of the council."

"Very well." Obi-Wan nodded. "Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning for training?"

You stopped in your tracks, just in front of the corridor that lead to your chambers. Normally, you were pretty good at coming up with excuses - now, your ability had failed you entirely. It wasn't that you didn't want to wake up early and train, but rather that you were so caught up in your own concerns and doubts that it would affect your ability to fight at all. And, with all due respect to Obi-Wan, the last thing you needed was to be thrown half-way across the room at 5AM on a Saturday morning during combat training.

"I'm not sure," you nervously shuffled from one foot to another. "I might skip training tomorrow and focus on my readings."

Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest. "Something is going on with you."

"There isn't." You tried to sound confident in your words. "I'm just-"

"- tired?" He raised an eyebrow. "Have you been getting enough sleep lately?"

"Of course." You replied quickly- perhaps a bit too quickly.

"Hmm." Obi-Wan clearly wasn't taking your bullshit. "You know that you've been my Padawan for the better part of twenty years, don't you?"

"Right."

"I can tell when you're lying." He continued. "We'll finish it here tonight but I'm not done with this conversation."

"There's nothing to talk about." You coldly said. "Good night, Master."

Obi-Wan sighed, blue eyes flittering to the floor. "Good night."

--

True to your word, you slept through training the next day. You didn't even bother setting an alarm, instead choosing to snooze right through til late morning. It was a much-needed lie in -- between your missions, your late-night stressing sessions and constantly running away from the subject of your trials, you were shattered. The sleep had been good, but it didn't much when it was your soul that was tired.

You found yourself in the Temple gardens not long after you woke up. They were the most peaceful place in the entire building -- fields of fresh, green grass, and tangles of unkempt plants that stretched out as far as you could see. The late-morning sun was hanging high in the sky, casting a golden glow on your skin as you slowly wandered down the path. There were a few other people sat on the lawns, either meditating or reading a book. Instead of doing either, you simply meandered. It was hard to remember the last time you weren't doing something...Jedi-ish.

"That isn't reading."

You froze at the sound of your Master's voice -- he was sat on one of the benches, lunch laid out beside him. Knowing Obi-Wan, he'd probably risen at 4AM and done ten times as much in his waking hours than everyone else in the Temple had done in a week. He was always on the go, always dedicating himself to something. Sometimes, he took you along for the ride.

"I was taking a walk." You shot back.

"I can see that." Obi-Wan said. He tossed his sandwich into the bin and stood up, dusting off his trousers. "Let's walk and talk."

"Master, I'm going to be honest with you, I really wanted this time for myself." You explained. "And with all due respect, most of the Padawans out here are alone, and not with their masters-"

"- so you're too cool to be seen in public with me now?" He raised an eyebrow. "I can sense your anxiety and I think it would be good for us to get to the bottom of it."

You sighed to yourself -- the gig was up. But, to give credit where credit was due, you had been able to hide your woes from him for the better part of six months. You could feel your heart-rate picking up in your chest at the thought of coming clean. What if he was disappointed in you? Or worst, insulted that you were worrying about the Order he had sworn his life to?

Obi-Wan placed his hand on the small of your back, forcing you to start walking beside him, through the gardens and towards the temple. So much for a peaceful morning.

"Talk to me." He said. "What's troubling you?"

"I..." you let your eyes fall to the floor. "Look, if I tell you, can you promise me one thing?"

"Of course."

"That you won't be disappointed in me?"

"I could never be disappointed in you." Obi-Wan replied. "If you've made a mistake, it's fine. How else are we supposed to learn?"

"It's not so much a mistake, so much it is a feeling." You began. "I've dedicated most of my life to this Order, and the things it stands for, and by the looks of it, the rest of my life will be too. That was amazing when I was a kid, and not entirely capable of thinking for myself. Now I can, and I find myself full of...doubt."

"Right," He pondered on your words for a moment. "Doubt about what, exactly?"

"The Order." You replied. "There are so many rules to follow, and so many codes. It's been okay up until now but what if one day, I find myself wanting to make a decision that goes against it? Or making a choice that I think to be correct, but the Council see as wrong?"

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. He felt your words in his core -- he'd had his moments like that too. Many, many moments of doubt, sprinkled throughout the last three decades. But, just a few was plenty enough for him to remember - the hesitation, the worry, the endless thoughts of leaving and breaking free plaguing in his mind. There had been so much loss; so much grief and hurt that had pushed him to the edge. Qui-Gonn, Satine, members of the 501st who had fallen victim to the ongoing Clone Wars. There were days where he came closer and closer to his breaking point - in the same way there were days that it felt like it was inching further away. Like the day that the two of you went to Corellia, and he saw you hold your own in battle for the first time, or the day that he managed to get himself kidnapped, and you and Anakin came to rescue him and make a joke out of it. It was the days like that which he'd clung onto so tightly.

You never would have known, not from his outward appearance. From where you were standing, Obi-Wan Kenobi was calm and collected. He always stood his ground and did the right thing, and aside from a few grey hairs that had cropped up in his otherwise-strawberry-blonde hair, you never would have known the losses he had faced. The sacrifices he had made.

And it broke his heart that you feeling that same misgivings and apprehensions that he had.

"Master, you've been quiet for a really long time." You murmured. "Maybe I should just forget it, pretend I didn't say anything-"

"- Not every decision that I've made has been in line with what a good Jedi is." Obi-Wan cut you off. "But you don't need to worry, I can assure you of that much."

You peered up at him. "What do you mean?"

"You might not always be a good Jedi, but you'll always do the right thing." He explained.

"You think so?"

"I know so." He replied. "I see it in you. Whatever way you interpret the Jedi Code, you needn't worry, because you can't be a good Jedi until when, stripped back to the very core of your humanity, you're a good person. And you are, undoubtedly so."

You smiled. "Thank you."

"There are going to be times when you doubt everything you stand for, and everything you dedicate your life to." Obi-Wan continued. "And when I find myself doing that, I look at it from a different angle. The be-all-and-end-all of what we do is to help and protect others, whether that's under the guise of the Jedi, or as a civilian. That's what matters."

"That makes sense." You nodded. "Thank you for listening. I was worried you were going to be disappointed in me."

"I've been disappointed with the Jedi Order itself hundreds of more times than I've been disappointed with you." He said. "Your ability to question authority when necessary is going to get you far. It's better to be overly cautious than overly naive."

"Does that apply to your authority too?" You grinned.

"If need be - but I like to think I'm a pretty relaxed master." Obi-Wan replied. "I could be a lot harder on you. Especially on mornings when you lie to me and sleep in."

You groaned. "It won't happen again. I can assure you that your current methods of teaching are more than sufficient."

"Sufficient enough that you're ready for the trials?"

"Maybe." You cautiously said. "I suppose we could at least talk to the council about it."

"Thank you." Obi-Wan grinned. "Then you can finally get rid of me."

"I could never." You shot back.

[littlesparklight]

The Sea God’s Children

Three different conversations between Zeus and Poseidon, about some of the latter’s children and the problems they cause.

*

"All right, why am I still here, Zeus?" Poseidon frowned as he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. "The meeting is over, Ares is back where he should be, and I'd like to return to my palace and my family."

Zeus, sitting down on a nearby couch before he even acknowledged Poseidon after leading him off to this room, was caught near to mimicking Poseidon's crossed arms and instead sat back, staring up at Poseidon with dark eyes.

"I think you ought to apologise to Ares."

"What? Why?"

"What's this I hear now? Why? And here I thought you liked Ares," Zeus said, the smirk toothy and nearly overtaking his annoyance. His tone of voice was terribly pointed. "You were the one who vouchsafed for him with Hephaistos, after all."

"None of your business as to why I did so, Zeus." Poseidon, losing against Zeus' knowing stare, looked away. There was the faintest of blushes threatening to unman him past his tan. "That has nothing to do with this, and I thought you didn't like Ares. It wasn't like you were worried until Hermes told us he had been bound."

"I care little for Ares' work, and I find little interest in hearing about it, the pleasure he takes in it, or knowing of his whereabouts as he goes about it," Zeus snapped, back onto his feet now and eyes narrowed. "He can be gone for quite some length of time, and up until now that has never been an issue before, Poseidon. That does not mean I want my son in a situation that left him worse than if he had perjured himself under an oath to Styx!"

Zeus stomped up into the middle of the room before he caught himself as Poseidon turned to him, great, muscled arms falling to his sides in loose readiness, hands flexing and blue eyes stormy.

"That's still no---"

"They were your sons, Poseidon," Zeus growled, settling back but towering, arms crossed over his chest now as he stared his younger-and-older brother down. "Your sons who assaulted Olympos and thought to lay claim both to my wife and daughter, a daughter who has no interest in sex, men or married life to such a degree she has oathed to remain unwed. Your sons who decided the best method of going about their plan was removing one of our most unpleasant but unfortunately necessary and very ardent defenses. <i>Apologise to my son</i> for the pain your children caused him, brother."

The rulers of two thirds of the sphere stared at each other much like territorial lions at the edge of each territory, weighing the options of the merit in attacking the other and ripping their rival from both land and lionesses. Poseidon was the first to look away.

"... Fine. I'll go do that now, then."

*** "You know, I find it quite interesting you've ended up with one son, one that's much more suitable for regular society, ridding the world of a number of your sons who are a cruel plague on their fellow humans," Zeus said, voice idle as he looked out over the cliff, clouds swirling beyond and covering the view of the ground so very far beneath.

"Your point?" Poseidon grunted, mouth twisting. The only reason he even was annoyed by the topic was that Zeus wouldn't be bringing this up to congratulate Theseus. Otherwise Poseidon would've been more than pleased to lean into his growing pride.

"My point, Poseidon, is I'm wondering why this keeps happening. You wouldn't deal with Charybdis and so I had to do it, Ares had to suffer for your indiscretions, and these criminals have been plaguing Athens' surro..." As very rarely happened, Zeus trailed off in the middle of his sentence and glanced to Poseidon. "Did you intentionally beget them there as another step of your grudge against Athena, Poseidon?"

"I go where my heart takes me as much as you do, so how is it my fault they're all around Athens?" Poseidon said, near lyrical in his virtuous innocence on the matter. If there was even the tiniest of gleam to his eyes, Zeus could do little but let it go. "And besides, a couple of Ares' sons are as ill-fitting as mine, why don't you complain to him about them?"

"We're not talking about Ares at the moment, and whyever do you imagine I haven't? I expect little else of him," Zeus grunted, eyes narrow but hardly stung by Poseidon's attempt at deflecting his attention. He really did expect little else of Ares.

"Oh, I forgot. It's you and Ares." Poseidon snorted and waved a hand. "Of course you have. Please continue, then."

"All I'm wondering, is why half of your children are as fine as any one of us could ask for to beget, kings and princes to lead their fellow mortals, and then the other half - more than the other half, if we should account for the ones who become fathers of their own peoples, human-eating people, Poseidon, are like these."

"Perhaps I'm merely more in tune with our nature, Zeus." Poseidon smiled, somewhere between smug and sharp like his trident, quiet like the hidden current along a beach which might rip out the unwary far beyond easy reach of the safety of land. "The seas answers to none but themselves."

"And obviously that's something to be pleased for," Zeus said, shooting Poseidon a lingering, exasperated side-eye.

Poseidon only smirked and shrugged, hooking his hands behind his head.

*** "You can't be against me taking out satisfaction for the treatment of my son." Poseidon eyed his brother, younger and older as he was, tension turning his ichor dark and his gut tight, but there was, surprisingly, no judgement on Zeus' face.

"Once again, your human-eating son." Of course Zeus did have to point that out. He was so sore about such matters. He seemed content for then, though, and sighed, shaking his head and setting his hair to a swaying flow that made Poseidon think of waves. "But no. Odysseus has brought his late homecoming onto himself, as little as it pleases Athena. Don't smirk, Poseidon."

"I am the very picture of grave calm and seriousness, certainly," Poseidon protested, the asseveration warm and almost covering for the smirk that was indeed lurking in the corners of his lips. "Now, if I'm right in my anger, what's with that sour expression? You look like when you lose to me when we're sparring."

"When we were young. I haven't lost to you in ages. And the issue isn't Odysseus or your right to avenge your son," Zeus said and then, surprisingly, ran a hand through his hair, the tight broadness of his shoulders slumping as if weighed down for a moment. Only a very brief one, and then they were firm once more as Zeus turned to meet Poseidon's gaze once more. "I should've led Herakles to dealing with both these younger Kyklopes and the Laistrygonians long before this, much like he did Antaios."

Hissing, Poseidon straightened up. "Zeu---"

"I've been delaying that course of action." Zeus interrupted him, and the only reason Poseidon held himself back at all was the flat seriousness on Zeus' face, plain to see. "You've already lost a number through the years, and I didn't wish to force you to loose all in such a short time, but you are the architect of your own monstrous children, Poseidon. Medusa was ridiculous enough, but you have bedded other daughters of Phorkys and Keto, and you have gone to Gaia, not in accident but approaching her with intent. The result has been predicable, of course, but that means you must know they cannot be left in the world."

"You like Pegasus," Poseidon said, lips pressed thin, but he had little defense for the rest. Not that he felt any shame; if Zeus found no charm in those ladies, he would gladly go share their beds, and Gaia had been one of Poseidon's most thrilling experiences ever, and none of this spilling on the ground for him! Hence why there'd been several children that way.

"Ganymede likes Pegasus, undoubtedly charmed for the same reasons your son was," Zeus said with a groan as he scrubbed his face. "I'm not sure what it is about the wings, since it's not as if the other horses can't fly as well. You're lucky he agreed to behaving, and Ganymede is patient enough he charmed that animal on his own merits."

Zeus dropped his hand, and Poseidon, though he smirked in the face of the dark-eyed expression, like swirling clouds gathering to a severe thunderstorm, Poseidon knew that if Pegasus had actually gotten a chance to injure the stunning youth both he and the winged horse would've come to regret it.

"And Pegasus hasn't been among mortals for decades now, which was unavoidable if he shouldn't have ended up like his brother. Arion hasn't been trouble, but him still being alive is clear enough for what he is, so Demeter is looking to fetch him to Olympos," Zeus continued after a couple moments of weighted silence. The warning on his face left for another darkness entirely, contemplative and all the worse for that. "These others, thou---"

"A little longer, Zeus. That's all I ask. A little more time." Poseidon held a hand out, feeling unaccountably upset at the turn of this conversation. He wasn't sure he was willing to let it go so easily, for surely there was a place for these beings as well? Zeus stared down at him with a silver stare that nearly glowed in the dying afternoon's light, and slowly shook his head.

"You've already used almost all the time I've been able to give you, Poseidon."

[arse-crack-thistle]

gifts

rwrb and the five love languages | part two

in which june struggles to have a nice valentine’s date with nora

June never expected to care this much about a stupid holiday like Valentine’s Day, but here she is, practically renovating the apartment to give her girlfriend a perfect night. She strings LED lights around the entire living room ceiling and uses Command hooks to drape the sheer, white Ikea curtains she bought on sale months ago in preparation for this. The lights glow pink through the curtains, making the usually neutral-toned living room appear like Aphrodite’s palace. June’s moved the coffee table into her room and replaced it with a fluffy blanket and a picnic set-up to rival TikTok lesbians.  All she needs now is Nora, if only she weren’t stuck at school.

The texts say, Will be late! Data mining for the gods! [Monet X Change gif] I want to be home with you though. Will bring noodles! And chocolate! Scratch that, I ate the chocolate. Sorry.

June knows she shouldn’t be annoyed because Nora has no idea what she’s coming home to. She also knows who she got into a relationship with—a brilliant mind that’s constantly moving parsecs a minute and has a hard time communicating her feelings. June has to remind herself that Nora loves her even if she doesn’t always show it.

That’s what tonight is for. It’ll give them time to slow down and just be together. Break the routine. Talk or not talk. She doesn’t expect it to be mushy or obnoxious—June isn’t a super, flowery romantic herself—but she does want another sentimental moment to hold onto forever.

Like the night of the 2020 election over a year ago. After Alex and Henry slipped away and everyone else was celebrating in their own groups, Nora pulled June into a storage closet at the venue and kissed her point blank, leaving no questions in her mind that their dabbles the months before meant something more than spectacular.

Or like six months ago when Nora asked her if she wanted to move in with her. She didn’t do anything particularly special, but she slammed her laptop shut while June was throwing on one of her sweatshirts and asked her to stay—to take the second bedroom because Nora needs space sometimes—but to stay with her because she was her favorite person. June answered with a happy “yes,” and Nora got up and kissed her. They didn’t talk much more about it; June just packed up her room at the White House and let the world think they were very best friends.

June pours a glass of wine and waits on the couch, flipping through social media. A few hours ago, her brother posted a picture from the Valentine’s gala he and Henry threw for the London queer youth center. Alex, Henry, Bea, Catherine, and even Philip and Martha hold champagne flutes with cheeky smiles on their faces. The POTUS account has a sweet yet posed picture of her mother and Leo. She likes everything she sees, from the various celebrities she follows to the photos she’s tagged in by fans. The time on her phone reminds her Nora’s now over an hour late.

She texts her, Home soon?

Ten minutes later her phone dings. Need more time. Almost done!

You are aware it’s Valentine’s, yes? And that we had plans?

Yes!!!! But flexible plans, right? Not like we can’t eat noodles and make out later. Will leave soon though. Promise.

I got food covered. Just get home please.

June sighs. She thought she made it clear this morning that they deserved a night with no distractions. God, they need to talk; she’s afraid to, but nothing will get better if she doesn’t say anything and if they don’t try.

The charcuterie board spread she copied off of Pinterest has been sitting out for a while so she moves it from the floor to the fridge. “Soon” for Nora could mean an hour. Empty coffee mugs line the sink. An open pack of weed gummies sits on the counter, hardening. Binders of paperwork and schoolwork collect on the kitchen table. There’s so much Nora in here. June redecorated the living room and kitchen when she moved in, but Nora’s managed to touch everything.

She smiles. If this were Alex, she’d be pissed at the mess, but it’s Nora. The beautiful, erratic mess that is Nora. The girl who can have four different shows on at once and can still get shit done. The girl who always burns pancakes when she tries to cook breakfast for June. The girl who never fails to kiss her first.

June won’t lose her. So she sits down on the floor, runs her fingers over the fleece, and waits. And drinks more wine.

Sometime later, when a key turns in the lock, she downs the last sip in her glass and sets it down. Some old love songs play from her phone, the ones she and Nora love to make fun of. She hears her girlfriend curse when her key gets stuck, and then she bursts through the door and catches herself before she could slip on the hardwood.

“I know you said you got food covered, but I got noodles any—Whoa! You did all of this?” Nora walks into the living room with takeout bags in her hands and stares, mesmerized, at the ceiling. Her contacts must’ve been bothering her because she has on her back-up glasses.

“Hi. Happy Valentine’s Day,” June says and reaches for Nora’s hand to pull her down.

“I’m sorry, June. I had no idea. I thought we both hated this holiday, so tonight wasn’t that big of a deal. But this—this is beautiful,” Nora says, having a hard time meeting June’s eyes.

“Thanks.” June rubs Nora’s hand with her thumb. “And this isn’t really about the holiday. I just wanted to give something nice to you—to us—just us. With no distractions.”

The strings from “At Last” by Etta James play from the phone. The curtains billow from the air blowing out the vent. As much as she hates to ruin the moment, June has to start the conversation.

But Nora takes a deep breath and talks first. “I know I’m a bit all over the place but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I just have a lot going on.”

“I know, but sometimes it feels like you don’t care about us as much as I do. It feels like an afterthought to you,” June says.

“That’s not true, June! Come on! You know me.” She grabs June’s other hand and squeezes.

She squeezes back. “You don’t act with feelings in mind, but I know you have them. And I know it’s hard for you, but I need you to share them with me more. I need a reminder that you care every once in a while.”

Nora’s quiet. She uses her arm to wipe her eyes, knocking her glasses off.  “I—I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.”

June’s chest collapses. She wraps Nora up in her arms. “I’m sorry, Nor. I don’t mean you’re not enough for me. I love you so much. I—”

“No, I understand. I just—I need help with that. I need you to tell me when you need more—maybe not after the fact like now but—”

June laughs and pulls away. “You’re right. I have a stewing problem. I just assume you’ll eventually get it.”

“Yeah, don’t assume that.” Nora laughs too—the big kind that shows all of her teeth. “Reign me in when I’ve been off for too long. And know it’s not on purpose. I’m seriously spiraling in my own head the majority of the time.”

“Ha! And a hot head it is too.”

They both pause and look into each other’s eyes. And bust out into laughing fits. June makes a fart sound with her mouth, and Nora tackles her. They rumble around on the blanket for about forty seconds before June’s wine glass tips over and surprisingly bounces instead of shattering.

The girls take that as an opportunity to stop and pour some more glasses of wine. Nora preps the takeout while June brings the charcuterie board back to the indoor picnic. Nora changes the music to some weird techno shit, but June snatches the phone. They compromise with One Direction, which makes no sense since 1. June only knows their last album and 2. Nora definitely remembers the story of June turning down the advances of one Niall Horan when she did the daytime talk show circuit after her book deal was announced.

Either way, they stuff their faces and end up cuddled on the floor.

Nora interrupts the moment. “Before we get to sexy time—"

“Jesus Christ.”

“I just wanted to give you something. I would’ve saved it for your birthday, but I can get you something else.” She pops up from the floor and jogs to her bedroom. When she reemerges, she’s carrying a bunched-up blanket. “I didn’t have time to properly wrap it because—you know, you weren’t going to get it yet—although, it probably wouldn’t’ve been wrapped later either—but anyways, happy Valentine’s Day.”

She crouches down and hands over the present. She smiles and bops up and down in anticipation. June unwraps the blanket and sees a book.

It’s one of those photobooks you can get at Walgreens, and on the cover, it reads, “Catalina June Claremont-Diaz and Nora Elizabeth Holleran are NOT good friends…” June flips it over. “They’re fucking GIRLFRIENDS!” Inside is page after page of pictures as early as the day they first met and as recent as New Year’s Eve a month ago. A lot of candid pics they take of each other—Nora’s favorites. A lot of sleepy, cuddle pics—June’s favorites. It’s so perfect.

“Nora—this is—wow.” She feels the tears coming. No one has given her anything like this before.

“I’ll be better—”

“So will I.”

“No matter where my head’s at, I’m always thinking of you—just 50 million other things as well,” Nora says and cups her chin.

June leans in. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Nora kisses her, and everything wound up in June relaxes. Her body is so warm. “Best Song Ever” starts playing.

Cue sexy time.

check out the rest of my rwrb and the five love languages series: part one, part three, part four, and part five. (links to come as they’re released)

so this could be for quality time or gifts, but i decided to go with gifts since i had no other ideas for it! it’s definitely not my love language (quality time for the win!) but i had to write something lol. so i made it sapphic bc everything gay is better! <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

[livingincolorsagain]

Some asks! 2, 8, 20

2. who is the easiest character for you to write?

Surprisingly enough, Harry is the easiest. I’ve always thought It’d be Ron for some reason (the reason is that he’s my favourite).

8. What is a scene you wrote that you are most proud of?

This is so hard. But maybe this part from listen to them sing (I’m actually proud of this fic as a whole tbh):

“Harry watches Ron too, first because he doesn't know where else to look and then because he can't look away. Ron's helping everyone, quiet in his actions, he's everyone's rock, solid no matter what. He looks beyond his years, his youthful face not matching the worn look in his eyes, a look of a man who has seen too much before he was even a man.

So Harry watches, staying close, wanting to be there when Ron needs him or at least when he needs to tell him to leave and never come back. But all Ron says to him is good morning and goodnight and food's ready, and Harry yearns for something he doesn't quite understand yet. He yearns as he watches Ron laying on the grass, staring at the sky, the Sun making his hair glow. His skin is always pink and a bit raw after, but he never complains, not even at the disapproving look his mother gives him as she rubs her special soothing gel on his face with such tenderness Harry actually wonders if the look is only a weak attempt at normality. He yearns as he watches Ron lie in bed in the moonlight, unmoving for hours on end, quiet until he falls into an uneasy sleep, always interrupted by a nightmare, his or someone else's.”

But also this part from loving you is a losing game (actually the whole last scene but it’s too long):

“"I didn't realise, maybe I just didn't want to see it. I was scared that it's all in my head, scared because I couldn't imagine risking our friendship, no matter how much I wanted to- to do something," he stands slowly, watching Ron stop mid-step, his back tensing. "I didn't want to lose you, so I kept pushing it aside, pretending nothing has changed, that it's all in my head. I really wanted- really want it, everything we've faked, I want it for real. I can't hide it anymore, and it seems like I'm losing you anyway, so I might as well do it properly,"

"You could have it with anyone,"

Harry feels as if he's made of stone as he takes careful steps toward Ron. "True," he says to Ron's back, unable to stop his hands from shaking, "but I don't want it with anyone else. Don't want anyone but you,"

Ron turns around, eyes bright with unshed tears. "If you're saying this because you're scared of losing me, don't, Harry. I know I've not been the best of mates lately, but I'll get over it. Just- just give me some time.."

Fuck's sake. Harry takes the last step that brings him in Ron's personal space, staring up at Ron's scared face. "I'm in love with you, you impossible sodding git,"”

I was probably supposed to choose but I just didn’t. Actually, I’m surprised I was able to choose just two. I’m mostly terrible at that.

20. What story that you have written makes you the happiest to re-read?

loving you is a losing game, no doubt. I loved writing this fic. It doesn’t hurt that it has some of my favourite tropes (fake dating, friends to lovers, sharing a bed. Dude, I was having the time of my life writing this fic). I love it and it always makes me happy.

Thank you so much for the ask! 💖

Send me some Fanfic Writer Asks.

[xparadisexlostx]

So Idk what possessed me to write this. I wrote it all in one go and it is in desperate need of a proof read and probably and edit... but I doubt I’ll ever do that lol. I’m tired and I’m getting a headache and I still have drafts to work on, so I’m just gonna post it before I lose confidence and hide it like the many, many other drabbles I’ve never posted.

I don’t know why I wanted to write this in first person. That usually annoys me, but for some reason it just sounded right in this case.

So this drabble is primarily about Beck and Cora, how they meet, and the relationship they have. Obviously I did a LOT, if not too much, condensing because otherwise this never would have ended. 

For context, Cora is Beck’s sort of adopted mom. She his a centuries old witch who was possessed, years ago by a spirit of hospitality. Over time the two merged into one being and that is why she’s pretty much immortal. Because of what she was she was made an outcast by her own people, the clan of the Grey Owls. Here is her face claim. 

_____________________________________________

A long life makes you accustomed to loss. You learn people are better at a distance. Far enough away that you can’t really make out their faces, and their voices turn to echoes by the time they’re in your ears. Any closer than that and you risk the pain that comes with a proper meeting. I found that out the hard way when Hattie passed. 

It was agonizingly slow. At first she just needed a bit of help with getting up after a long day in the garden. And then she couldn’t go as far on our evening walks. Eventually she couldn’t make it out to tend the flowers that she loved so dearly, and she forgot the names of the dairy goats we’d raised by hand and bottle. And when I saw Death come peacefully across the border of the Living Dream, shimmering in the late afternoon sunlight and invisible to my love, I lifted her up in my arms and carried her out to the fields of flowers. She didn’t remember my name, but she held me close to her with what dwindling strength remained in her arms, and laid her head on my heart while I whispered a silent goodbye.

We had never had any children. Back then we only escaped the scandal of being together by living on my family’s land and growing or making most of what we needed. People in the towns whispered, but they let us be so long as we didn’t make too much noise. That wouldn’t have been any life for a child. Children need community, friends, and more love than just two mothers could bring them. The mortals would have never accepted a child of ours, and the witches had cast me out years before on account of what I was---what I am.

I buried Hattie in the flowerbed, and I left my home after that. The place I had been made, where I had settled for three centuries, had nothing to give me but pain. Even England reminded me all too much of what I had lost. I was alone, and I imagined that somewhere else I could find a place where I was content with that once again.

And I did. In a cottage deep in the Sierra Nevada mountains, I found the peace that had evaded me for so long. People stopped by in the occasional way: lost travelers, rapscallion youths, the occasional farmer looking for good dairy stock. That was the way for well over a hundred years. It wasn’t until the storm of ‘01 that it all changed, that I noticed the pie I was cooling on the windowsill was gone, and there was only a small muddy handprint in its place.

In the afterglow of a lightning strike I saw him there. A great, hulking bear, tall as the horizon, pale as a fresh pressed bedsheet, illuminated against the black sky. On his head were horns made of trees, and his claws were gnarled roots. On his back he carried a forest with a heart-tree that glowed gold. My brother, older than me by millenia, scarcely seen but ever familiar, always present. He looked from me to the barn, and stared, transfixed, by whatever he saw, and then he was gone.

I pulled on a raincoat and stepped into my boots, and raced across the yard to the shelter of the barn. The goats stirred in their pen, and the chickens let out a low squawk of protest as the building flooded with light. I found my pie in the back stall and a trail of blueberry pawprints leading away from it and into a pile of hay, where I found a small, trembling kit, little enough to fit in my one hand.

She shook like a leaf, whining up a terrible storm, as I tucked her beneath my coat and took her into the house. The promise of a proper meal convinced her to turn back into the girl I already knew she was, but she still shook so hard that she lost half of every bite she tried to take. I might have scolded anyone else for stealing, but she was so slight, too small and slender for a girl her age, and she was covered in mud and briars and sticks that matted in her golden hair. And when I put her in the tub to scrub her clean I saw the bruises and the cuts that no branch had inflicted. 

Looking back on that night I never had the chance to hold her at arm’s length. From the moment I plucked her out of the hay and pressed her to my heart, she was mine. I couldn’t keep her. The Fox Bitch wouldn’t allow it. And no one would listen to me when I told them of the heinous crimes Elea Tandy was committing against her own kin. No one cared when I complained of the local coven teachers casting her out. 

I made myself content with what I could have, and I taught her what an old witch could when she escaped that awful house and made her way through the forest to me. I showed her how to sew up a skirt as well as a wound, and taught her what the woods had to offer when her mother denied her supper. When she couldn’t read my spellbooks I taught her songs and rhythms to help her remember words and order. How to milk a goat, how to shear a sheep, how to tie a good and proper knot, and how to cook anything you found or caught. Our time together didn’t always last long, and when she left I felt it like a stab to the heart, but she was mine. The baby Hattie and I never got to have, filled with more kindness and curiosity and life than anyone else I had ever met.

And I ought to have known by the sight of my Brother what she was, and that she could not belong to me, or to anyone forever, but it wasn’t until months later, when I saw him again, watching her ride through the woods with a wild abandon, that I understood. 

Feral. A term that makes every parent clutch her pearls and shiver in fear, even though they barely know what it means. Feral witches are born to leave. They are only a brief bridge between the Dream Realm and the physical, destined to merge once more with the Nature Spirit from which they came. 

She was not mine to keep, but I held on.

I held on in agony as she ran off, desperate for freedom and adventure and a respite from the violence of her home. I smothered her in loving arms every time she came back. But she came back less and less. It was too dangerous, and every time she risked us both. I told her I didn’t care, and that I wasn’t afraid of Elea Tandy… but I knew that she was.

She was right to be.

Even I had never imagined Elea could be so vile and twisted as to kill a familiar. And to make a child watch… It turns my gut even to think of it now. I thought it would be the death of her, and it likely would have been if her brother hadn’t turned on their mother himself. He tried to bring her back to life, and so did I. But there was nothing but fathomless despair behind those blue eyes. I finally had her safe beneath my roof, and she was dying in my arms just like Hattie had. No amount of love could ever replace what she had lost when Dawnbreaker had been hanged before her eyes.

After ages of lifelessness, she eventually became restless in her grief, and I imagined I was witnessing her end. I put her in my car and drove her as deep into the wilderness as I could, and when I wrapped my arms around her I said that same silent goodbye. I barely made it home before my own sorrow and anger threatened to drown me. She was too young, I thought, and how unfair it was that she should die having tasted so little happiness, having felt so few kind touches. Brother would care for her upon her return, but why had he ever allowed her to come from the womb of that wretched woman? I had gifted her all the love that I could, and it didn’t feel like nearly enough in the face of all the pain she had been put through.

I hated him for that. Perhaps I still do.

I left California the same way I left England, distraught, and purchased new land on the secluded shores of Lake Erie. I told no one where I went, and no one would have ever asked. 

When I saw the golden horse upon my lawn some years later I thought it was a reflection in the Living Dream, a spirit of what once was lingering, but the girl upon its back was no longer a child. Even at a distance, even after all those years, I knew her face, and when she ran into my arms I held her tighter than I ever had before. 

She was alive and more vibrant than I’d ever seen her---all golden curls and smiles and a wild glint in her eye. We rode horses on the shoreline and sang foolish songs around a campfire. She told me stories of where she had been and everything she’d seen as she wove crowns from wildflowers. The next evening she showed me the scars where the mountain lion had nearly ripped her life away, and then demonstrated her new form with such ease that I felt my knees go weak. Even at such a young age the power swelled around her.

Feral. The very thing that had made other witches reject her had allowed her to thrive. In the wilds she had found the peace and happiness that others had so cruelly robbed her of. And I felt a pride blossom in me that I’d never felt before.

She left me again, as I knew she would, as was her nature, but this time I didn’t feel grief. For as long as she was on this Earth, she would return to me. That much I was certain. And that much has always been proven true.

Now, without the fear of her mother’s viciousness, she comes to me more frequently, and she can linger in my house as long as her wild spirit will allow. Our time together isn’t so rare… and yet I know that it is still brief. 

Each visit I see the spirit grow within her, each year the magic grows stronger. It pulls in more animals, and it bends nature around her without her even noticing it. 

She doesn’t see my Brother when she is sitting upon her golden stallion, basking in the sun as it cuts through the forest branches, but I think she feels him. As the animals gather all around her and play like newborn lambs, as she feels the embrace of the woods around her, I think she feels him watching. Her eyes glisten and she smiles with a fondness that breaks my heart. I think that if she just takes one step she will be lost to me forever.

I call her name when she raises her hand to touch what she cannot see, and with the slowness of a drunkard she blinks her eyes. When she looks back at me in those moments I know she can see across the centuries. She knows what I am. 

Again I call her name. It’s selfish, maybe, to want to hold onto her. Perhaps I do nothing but hold her back. But she smiles at me, and the mist evaporates from her eyes to reveal that mischievous sparkle.

“Come away from there, girl.” I say, beaconing her back toward the house with a wave of my hand and I watch my Brother’s eyes with unbecoming smugness as she presses her golden stallion forward and exclaims “‘Race ya!’” as she charges back home.

[sonicringbond]

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 54

Finally, we are here. The last scene of Season 1. There will be some huge changes coming, or at least they feel huge to me. But none of that will come until after this scene, so let me get out of the way so everyone can read...

“It has been too long, old friend,” Ix’s disembodied voice stated from where it now rose from his autogolem body.

Sonic could barely tell as a blast of energy from Rosy had sent him tumbling and he had not quite righted himself yet. As he attempted to, he heard Ix continue.

“My apologies for being so long in waking you. It took some time to learn what had happened after my own shameful defeat. Though, I owe a great deal to the foreign Ring Mage and the Medium who serves as your present, unworthy host.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Pir’Oth,” Rosy, but clearly not Rosy comforted the autogolem. “I have grown rather attached to this Medium. She has been touched by so many of my brethren. It is exhilarating to see so pitiable a Medium so touched by them. The Gaia Twins, The God of Destruction. Illumina. Even Solaris has touched her. I can hardly fathom what makes this girl so special, but she is. That, and she is far from one who appreciates boredom. She has a love of entertainment to merely match my own. I may even keep her once I’ve recovered my own body.”

“Not happening…”

“Oh~? Did you still have something to say, Dirt Dweller?”

“I have plenty to say,” Sonic grunted as he forced himself to his feet. “But the only thing you need to hear is ‘let her go’.”

“You do not realize your position,” Ix interceded on behalf of the entity that possessed Rosy. “You are but a frail, meaningless mortal. My old friend is the one and only rightful ruler of this world.”

“I doubt it,” Sonic spat as he noticed a giant Red Star appear at the center of the sphere, the bottom loosing form and becoming a cloud of Rings. Still, he pressed on. “I heard you name a lot of familiar faces a moment ago. Believe it or not, but a couple I’ve helped and made pretty good friends with, and a couple more I had to stop from destroying the world. Can you guess who’s still standing?”

“You expect me to believe that, Dirt Dweller?” the entity that possessed her scoffed at Sonic’s claims. turning Rosy’s now red right eye and Gear Star Ring iris left eye onto Sonic,

“I’m guessing you’re controlling her via a Ring Bond,” Sonic surmised as he started to walk towards Rosy, even as the ground beneath him began to lose its supports as they turned to Rings. “But you didn’t touch her memories at all, or you would have noticed. She watched me fight Chaos, and she believed I could beat Dark Gaia. Or maybe it’s just because Rings in the lands under that troublesome egg in the sky absorb people’s memories so her memories aren’t there for you to pic at.”

“You are surprisingly wise, Dirt Dweller,” the entity commended Sonic. “But I can make a Ring Bond with you and silence you in an instance, no less gain all of your memories. After all, they seem to be unnaturally intact. I never would have believed there were any who could resist my mastery of the Rings. Still, even through this vessel it will be no problem dealing with a simple, boastful, Dirt Dweller.”

Spinning up from the rapidly growing cloud of Rings and Ring Gates, a single Ring presented itself between Rosy and Sonic. The smirk on Rosy’s face deepened the scowl on Sonic’s and entertained the entity that possessed her. Still, Sonic walked forward unfaltering. It bothered Ix as he had seen the speeds Sonic could run at.

“Perhaps it would be best if we simply eliminated him now, Benedict,” Ix suggested, and at last gave a name to the entity possessing Rosy.

“And where would the fun in that be Pir’oth,” Benedict laughed through Rosy. “This Dirt Dweller, he is so fun I may yet let him flounder. It has been too long that I’ve slept, and to be greeted by so perfect a gift. I can hardly discard it so readily.”

“Then I shall devote myself to planning your awakening ready for this one’s challenge,” Ix held from arguing and turned to enter a Ring Gate that awaited him. He kept his blue glowing eyes on Rosy a moment longer though. “I will not allow your need for pleasure to keep you asleep any longer. The world shall know once more of the name Emperor Benedict Yoluku of the Empire of the Ring. Stay well old friend, I hope to see you once more, far sooner than later.”

“And now he’s gone and ruined the surprise,” Yoluku laughed, watching Ix disappear through a Ring. Surprise came to Rosy’s face as Yoluku turned his attention back to Sonic. “Oh? Is there something amusing.”

“Don’t mind me,” Sonic snickered, even as he held a tight smirk. “I just didn’t realize how accurate I was. Benedict? Yolk? Come on, you’re like a breakfast food, Eggs Benedict.”

“Ah, so the Dirt Dweller has a sense of humor.”

“I bet you look like an egg too, don’t you,” Sonic pressed, obviously agitating Yoluku. “Well, you know, or I guess you don’t since she’s missing her memories, but scrambling eggs is my specialty.”

Stopping before the Ring Yoluku had summoned, Sonic casually collected it. “A foolish move, Dirt Dweller. That was your last link to this precious girl. Soon the floor shall fall out from under you and you’ll be helpless to take her back. Unless that is how you foreign Dirt Dwellers beg for mercy. It’s so hard to say. It has been ages since the concept of foreigners could even be had. Little matter, I accept this girl as your gift and will let you fall to where the Rings may take you.”

Sonic had not been paying attention to the fact that Rosy had been floating this whole time, but it was impossible to ignore when she floated down to the walkway he was standing on, the whole thing turning to Rings at the touch of her feet leaving him with nowhere left to stand. Naturally, he fell helplessly.

“How boring,” Yoluku remarked, a look of disappointment weighing down Rosy’s normally cheerful features. “I suppose I shouldn’t have let his boasting get my hopes up.

“Guh!?”

The sound of collected Rings reached Yoluku far after he felt a gloved hand take Rosy’s wrist. He hadn’t expected it at all. And turned to look with Rosy’s eyes through a Ring into Sonic’s emerald eyes, stunned by the surprise he felt. “A Light Speed Dash? Performed by a mere dirt dweller?”

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises,” Sonic smirked as the Ring he held burst into motes of golden lights.

“Yet you are still a fool, Dirt Dweller. There is nothing you can accomplish by making a Ring Bond with me. I shall dominate it and make you my servant.”

“Who says I was making one with you, Eggs? I’m making one with Amy, and you’re too late to stop me.”

“What can you possibly offer her that would be a threat to me, Dirt Dweller?”

“If you could see her memories, then you’d know that even Dark Gaia couldn’t dominate me.”

With Rosy’s widening eyes, Yoluku realized he was bested, and laughed as Sonic spoke to Rosy. “Impossible”

“It’s time to wake up, rascal,” Sonic gently whispered to Rosy and watched her right iris return to the shade of blue that always reflected him. He still had a few last words for Yoluku however as he saw the Gear Star Ring still turning in Rosy’s eyes. “And don’t think I’m done with you either, Eggs. I’ll find a way up to you and put a stop to this foul Ring Bond myself.”

“I welcome the challenge,” a youthful, pleasant, and cheerful voice greeted Sonic from the Rings. “I have not had this much fun in ages. I look forward to seeing all of the ways you two entertain me for your short little lives, Dirt Dweller!”

~Maybe I hear voices in the darkness. But Sonic shared something with me in that Ring Bond. And not just the ability to resist the will of the gods, which is so strange. I’ve never resisted them so openly before. I can only wonder how that will affect my relationship with my cards. But it’s so hard to tell right now. There was something else in that Ring Bond from Sonic. It’s so, so warm. But I can hardly focus at all. I can barely see Sonic, or the red glowing eyes behind him. I think they’re supposed to be familiar. I can feel myself getting scared, but they also feel so much like Sonic. But Sonic seems to recognize them. I can hear his voice, and maybe it sounds scary too.~

“I should have known there would be one last troublemaker to come and crash my party crashing. Heh, and all things considered, I should have expected you sooner.”

~I’m too lost in Sonic’s warmth to hear the name he says. That’s okay. I know this is the real Sonic in this warmth. And for once, I think he’s willingly engulfing me in it. Tee-hee~♥ A shame I can’t enjoy it, just a little… longer…

~…~    

Scene 54 · CLEARED Party Crashing & Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Season 1, End

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And that’s that. Season 1 is over. Hooray!

\(^o^)/

With celebrating out of the way, I do have to admit that I am exhausted. It was a daunting project to start with, but with several idea changes and honestly discarding my original ideas for The Journey to try and be more welcoming to everyone who has been following my AU. Now though, with everything set up, the other characters addressed as being out there, and establishing Sonic’s main goal, I can finally start to make The Journey what I originally imagined.

What is that you ask? The original idea to The Journey was to tell a story with only Sonic and Rosy. An unending road trip that explores the dynamic of Sonic and Amy and how they can work together as characters, friends, traveling companions, and even as boyfriend girlfriend, all without sacrificing their individual characters. It’s an even more massive undertaking for an amateur writer like me, but the smaller cast of characters and a more focused, yet also more open approach I’ll be taking should hopefully make it easier for me to nail. Or as close I can.

I hope everyone will continue to stick with me on this journey, even as the other characters become more of an occasional background element. Of course, if you want more out of them than that, I’ll be opening prompts again when it is time to start expanding the world of the story again. I may have my own plans, but Sonic Ring Bond is a communal AU. So please, come join me on the next leg of the Journey!

-----

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra and every one of you! Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – Fuse Man Stage (Arranged) – Yoshiya Terayama – MEGAMAN 11 Original Soundtrack

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

[efrmellifer]

Unrestrained

Seven Days of Estinyan, Day Seven

As Etien walked to the aetheryte, the basket laden down with food (enough for a light dinner, anyway) swung on her arm with every step.

She stood, arms folded at her diaphragm while she waited, scanning the stairways from Saint Valeroyant’s and Saint Reinette’s Forums, mind wandering to the point she didn’t actually notice Estinien walk up to her until he swept an eyelash off her cheek.

“Hello, Estinien,” she said with a smile, reining her thoughts back into her head.

“Is that heavy?” he asked, gesturing to the basket.

She shook her head. “But I appreciate your asking.”

“So where are we going?”

She’d started casting the spell already, but she stopped to answer him. “Fallgourd Float.”

He looked down at her, trying to sort through the tidbits that she had told him about the Black Shroud and determine which region of the forest they would be in.

“North Shroud?” he asked finally.

She nodded, having returned to casting the spell for them to travel there.

“Not very far to go,” he said when they had arrived, the late-afternoon sunshine warming him considerably. Etien was shedding her coat, too.

“Not far, no, but far enough across the Central Highlands, and I didn’t want you to already be sweaty when we got here.”

His brow knit. “Am I going to get sweaty?”

She just gave him a sweet smile and a lift of her eyebrows.

She still walked through the Shroud with the confidence that came from making a home there, gaining intimate knowledge of the place. It was a way that she didn’t really walk through Ishgard, even when she’d gained a proper familiarity with its gray stones and vertical spread.

In Ishgard, her vibrant colors—both in her clothing and the natural shades of her hair and eyes—stuck out. Here, she looked like a natural part of the scenery.

And here, Estinien looked the odd man out, all pale hair and pale eyes. A winter man wandering spring’s dominion.

But she just looked over her shoulder to make sure he was following her. So he did, even taking her hand when she reached back to offer it.

Eventually, she led him up a hill, close to one of those tall buildings that seemed to populate the Shroud. A watchtower, if he remembered correctly.

She sat, setting her coat down carefully next to her, and patted the patch of grass beside her. “Come sit down, Estinien,” she chirped.

When he did, she took off the cloth covering the basket’s content, revealing cut fruit, cheeses (and spreads Etien could eat), and crackers.

She spread some of the cheese out for him, then handed the cracker over, taking one for herself.

When he’d finished chewing and had swallowed, he commented, “a pretty view.”

Etien sat back on her hands. “It is. This part of the Twelveswood is really pretty, I think. There are pretty parts in the South, too. Just about everywhere, there’s somewhere really breathtaking. But this is home—well, it was. You know what I mean.”

Estinien turned to face her, instead of staring at the trees in the distance. “Did you live up here?”

“Well, I lived in Alder Springs, that way,” she pointed in the general direction. “Still in the North Shroud, but over there. I’ve wandered just about every fulm of the area, alone or with others.”

“Others being?”

She shrugged. “Hunting parties. T’ahn, once.”

“Only once?”

She swallowed, placing the cracker she had been eating in her lap. “We didn’t see each other very often later in the relationship.”

Sudden curiosity overtook Estinien, and though Etien was staring at her lap, he took the chance to pick at the scab, just one little scratch. If she hissed, literally or metaphorically, he would stop. “How long were you together?”

“Too long.” She shook her head, as she usually did when she was trying to clear her mind. “It was… a bad decision, but it doesn’t matter now. I’m thousands of times happier and more secure.” She leaned against him. “I never want to think of him again. I know I’m cursed to, because of how everything happened, but… when I’m with you, there’s no reason he has to cross my mind.”

Estinien patted her head. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“What is intimacy but baring things we usually cover and not flinching when we’re looked at?” She finished the cracker she had abandoned and took another. Estinien continued eating, too.

When the little jars of spreads were empty, all that was left of the cheese was the wax, and not even crumbs remained as evidence there had been crackers, Etien sat back on her hands again. But this time, she was looking at Estinien.

In the last of the day’s light, he looked just a little bit like he was glowing—she figured it was a trick of the light on his hair, but she still liked it.

She was opening her mouth to comment on this, how pretty he looked, when he spoke before she could.

“Lots of lancers and archers out.” He gestured to the Wood Wailers wandering down the forest path. “Almost like we belong here.”

Etien snorted, both to brush off how her attempt at romance had been foiled, and because it was a funny observation. “If we belong anywhere.”

He scooted a little closer to her, crossing his legs so he could seat himself next to her outstretched ones. “Well, belong was perhaps the wrong word. But we belong together,” he said, taking her hand. “The Wood Wailers make sense for the same reason we do.”

“The archers give up home and the lancers lose it, like us?” she scoffed.

“I was thinking mutual benefit and support, but if you insist on being difficult,” he groused, “I can take my flirtation elsewhere.”

Now she clung tight to his hand. “No, stay. Please.” She pointed up at the sky. “Look, the stars are starting to come out.”

Estinien looked up, then back to her, though she still had her head tipped back, mouth open and arced into a smile that drew attention to her eyeteeth.

That is, it drew his attention until he looked at how her eyes crinkled with the joy, having him and her both whispering “wow,” for completely different reasons.

Well, maybe not so different. They were both looking at something beautiful.

“This is going to sound silly,” she said, flicking her eyes to him for a moment, then watching the stars again, “but I feel more free tonight than I did any night I spent out here before… before.”

“Even with everything that constitutes the after?” he asked.

“Even with that. I don’t get to choose much, because of the after, but I did choose this. And I’m happy about it and with it.”

He couldn’t fight the smile that came with the feeling of her grip tightening ever so slightly as she said it.

He leaned across the small gap between them and kissed the corner of her mouth.

She turned into it, letting go of his hand so she could hold him—maybe not more properly, just differently. Closer.One hand settled on his shoulder, and the other slipped into his hair while the kiss developed into something more purposeful and less self-denying.

As he leaned into her, she started to more fully recline, which he supposed made sense, when she no longer had her hands behind her for support, but something about it still felt like it was in excess.

Even so, he let his hand come around her back to ease her to the ground more slowly.

Did he chafe slightly at the thought of lying atop her in the middle of the woods, with all the Wailers around, here at dusk? Yes. But he was enjoying this too much to actually let it change his behavior.

As her hand drifted from resting on his shoulder to curling around his upper back to bring him closer for her to kiss, a thought came to Estinien, though he was trying to quiet his thoughts for the time being.

This was… perfectly rational. Or at the very least, not irrational.He’d lost most of his adolescence, what was left of it given to training as a knight. And though she had not told him how long she had been with T’ahn, he could guess, and if she had left him and Alder Springs at nineteen…

They deserved some excessively youthful-for-their-age petting in the wilds of the Black Shroud.

So he surrendered to the warmth of her breath and the coolness of her skin.

His hand spread over her cheek, catching strands of her hair between his fingers, so soft and yet soft in a different way from her skin below his palm.

His palm, he knew, rough from the handling of a lance all the time. Her fingers were never so rough, even when she came home from the hardest fights of her life.

So much of her was soft, despite the raw power contained within her.

Her hair, her skin, her lips, even her legs pressed up against his sides as if to hold him right where he was were soft over the strength of the muscles there.

And her heart was soft, soft enough to see the years of pain that he’d channeled into single-minded pursuit of a revenge that hadn’t even been as sweet as it was promised to be—she saw him in that infirmary bed, weakened from his battle—and she still thought he was worth loving.

She did choose this.

And he was happy about and with it.

[mythologyfolklore]

Baldr in Hel - Ch. 02

(A/N: This contains Baldr having a mental breakdown and also a brief discussion about when an unborn baby gets a soul. There is also a cameo of foreign underworld gods.)

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Baldr's POV

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It had been two days since he had arrived.

At least he thought so.

The underworld sun never set and the UV-A light¹ bathed the entirety of Niflheimr and Helheimr in permanent ghostly twilight. There was no day-night cycle. It seemed to Baldr, like time stood still in this murky, chilly world.

Fortunately the Bright One had quickly figured out, that Hel had a rigid schedule he could orientate himself on.

The meals played a big part: there was a warm and simple breakfast for the Queen of the Dead (and for him, since he had a seat of honour at her table), an opulent lunch and a warm, but light dinner (Hel had told him, that it was better not to eat too much in the evening).

Baldr didn't believe, that the ingredients for the food were home-grown; that was impossible around here. But he didn't dare ask, where they came from.

Hel also had the habit of getting up early, earlier than Baldr was used to. Perhaps it was because his habit was to rise with the sun, or maybe it was the black light of the underworld sun, which made him feel like he was woken up earlier than usual.

Hel's two personal servants, Ganglöt and Ganglati, worked rather slowly (no surprise with how elderly they were) and Hel had advised him to make requests at least an hour in advance, whenever he wanted something.

Baldr had also learned quickly, that Hel was rather morbid, when it came to naming things.

Apart from her gargantuan palace, Éljúðnir, her own bed was named Kór (sickbed), its curtains Blikjandabol (gleaming bale), her table was named Hungr (hunger), her knife Sultr (starvation).

(“Why do you give your possessions such dark names?”

“Why not?”

Later he had learned from her manservant Ganglati, that her gallows humour – which she clearly had got from her father – was her way of coping with her ruined youth.)

And last but not least …

“Uhm, Hel? May I ask you something?”

“Certainly.”

“Why is there a pitfall in front of your audience hall?”

“Oh, you mean Fallandaforað²? That's my threshold.”

Threshold???

“It sorts out anyone who has malicious intent and or is guilty of hubris.”

Now Baldr was even more confused. “Uhm … could you elaborate please?”

“Alright: every soul has an individual signature, made up of character, memories, thoughts and good or bad deeds they have done in life. Over the chasm of my threshold goes an invisible magical film. Most people are able to cross it, no problem. The really bad ones stumble over invisible obstacles, but they get across. But those guilty of hubris or ill intent fall into the chasm. Their punishment is to be lost forever in the deepest and darkest pits of Niflhel.”

Baldr felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

Hel's emotionless tone and face hadn't made her explanation any less scary. Neither did her sudden changed of disposition, when she suggested talking about something more pleasant.

When he asked her personal servants about it, Ganglati, her elderly butler, just laughed: “Well, that's how our queen is. She's very changeable, both in appearance and in demeanour. If she has a blank expression all the time, well, that's just Hel being Hel. But here's a tip; if you want to get a hint on how she's feeling, pay close attention to the state of her left half. The worse her mood is, the more decayed her face is. But if she's happy, it looks just as lively and beautiful as the right side of her body.”

The light god tilted his head in interest. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

“You two must have known her for a long time.”

Ganglati nodded affirmatively. “Oh yes. We were already long here, when she came here as a young thing. Such a frightened, poor little lass she was. Such a burden on the shoulder of a ten-year-old. It took her a while to grow into her new role, but we were there through all of it, Ganglöt and I.”

Compassion struck Baldr with an intensity he hadn't felt in quite a while (and he was quite a compassionate person, a “bleeding heart”, as Loki had called it scornfully).

The things this woman must have gone through!

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Hel's POV

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Hel allowed Baldr to roam through the castle, so that he could get used to it (among other reasons).

The Bright One was curious and once he got over his initial apprehension, he asked her a lot of questions, which made her really happy. He was genuinely interested in her place.

Maybe it was selfish, but she would have been a fool, if she hadn't been grateful for this indeed very special revenge kill/“birthday gift” from her father.

Her life wasn't boring per se, just … repetitive. Always the paper work and the soul judging.

Well, at least the upside of the latter was the soul reading. Whatever the soul had experienced, she knew it, their memories, their wishes and hopes, their deepest secrets – some of which even the persons themselves didn't know – and of course their silly little mishaps.

Sometimes being a death goddess could be really fun.

She always had a story to tell and a friend from Hellas had given her the idea to write those stories down. Now she had to employ thousands of librarians to administrate the nigh infinite amount of media in her Halls of Knowledge. But hey, the dead might as well make themselves useful.

Hel was quite sure, that Baldr would be dying to see them, once he found out about them. Maybe she would have to drag him out of there; reading his soul had revealed, that he loved stories and reading.

One thing was for sure: he was really curious about the little light that floated about the hallways of the entire castle. Once Hel was showing him the halls he was going to inhabit, once the problems were fixed, when Baldr caught one of the little lights in his hand. The next moment he yelped, let go and the light quickly escaped.

“It bit me!”, he exclaimed in shock. Hel took a look at his hand. There was no blood, but one of his fingers had a visible bite mark.

She smiled lopsidedly. “You have to excuse them. They panic easily and when they panic, they bite.”

“What are they anyway?”, Baldr asked. “I've been wondering for a while.”

“These, Baldr, are the souls of stillborn children”, Hel revealed. “Babies, who just transformed from a bunch of cells to living, sentient beings, who just gained a soul – only to lose this spark of light almost immediately, before they could even see the world and take their first breath. Some of them had already been born, when they died – usually of sickness, or because they were considered weak and were abandoned. So they're as confused and upset as babies can be.”

Baldr looked pained. “That's awful”, he whispered.

“It is”, Hel agreed. Then she hummed a little melody and the baby souls gathered around her head and hands, including the one that had bitten Baldr's finger.

“Hello, children”, she greeted them. “How are you today? Are you playing nicely?”

Their answer was a barely audible hum, a chorus of susurrated words only she could hear. The tiniest of them (the little finger biter) nuzzled her right cheek.

“Hey there, sweetie”, Hel smiled. “I see, you're growing teeth.”

She turned to Baldr. “Come here, Óðinnson. This little soul wants to tell you something. But pay very close attention and keep your voice down; the souls of the stillborn have the faintest voices and are most sensitive to noise.”

Baldr approached and hesitantly opened his hand. The tiny soul floated onto it, then up his arm and onto his shoulder, right next to his left ear. His eyes widened in evident surprise, as the soul whispered something into his ear. But then he smiled and whispered back, that it was okay.

The soul nuzzled his cheek too and made a humming sound, which prompted the other souls to float over and orbit around the glowing god.

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Baldr's POV

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Baldr wasn't quite sure, what to do, but at least the souls seemed comfortable around him, so that was a good thing. Hel seemed pleased at the sight.

“Are they attracted to my light?”, he asked softly.

“Oh yes. As I said before, most of these children have never seen the light of day, but some have. The big one on your hand, that's Ragnar. He died at the age of three and is the oldest of the group. He just told the little ones, that your face shines like the sun. So they're really excited. They had no idea the sun was so bright, warm and beautiful.”

“Oh”, he breathed and his cheeks reddened considerably (seriously, what was that with all the blushing lately?).

Some of the souls made a noise that sounded suspiciously like giggling.

Of course this wasn't the first time, that someone likened Baldr's brightness and fairness to the sun, but to him it meant so much more, when it came from a child.

“I agree”, Hel responded to his process of thought. “It does mean a lot more from a small child. They don't say these things to flatter or to be poetic or romantic, but because to them it's a simple truth.” She smiled. “Look at them, they really like you! They orbit around you like planets! Seems like you're called 'The Beloved' for a reason. Even the dead love you.”

These words made him glow a little brighter with joy. “I'm glad”, he said gently.

They stayed there for a while, before continuing their tour, leaving the souls to play.

After walking for a while, Hel asked her companion: “What's the matter? You're so silent.”

“Just wondering, that's all”, Baldr mumbled. “When does a being get a soul?”

“Hm, I think it's an ethical or philosophical question”, Hel mused. “Some say, it's at the moment of conception, some say it's at birth. But to me, it's the moment, when their tiny little organs start working; the moment they become viable.”

“Why can the souls talk?”

“Unlike their mortal shells, souls have a voice, mind and conscience from the moment they spring into existence. Even if the creatures themselves can't speak, their souls can. And if you can hear the soul inside a creature, you can understand them. You can read them like books.”

“Like you can?”, Baldr asked.

“Yes and no. I can only read the dead. The living are an enigma to me”, Hel admitted. “That's one of the reasons I prefer the company of ghosts. Another being the way the living look at me. The horror, fear and disgust in their eyes … I hated going outside in Jötunheimr.”

He gasped: “Your own kind was afraid of you?!”

“Yes. We led an isolated life deep in the Járnviðr. But sometimes mother would have to travel to the next settlement for groceries and then she would take us along, because she couldn't leave us alone at home. But it's not fun to go outside, only to be called a 'monster' a 'freak', or other charming things like that.”

Baldr felt his heart crack.

This wasn't right. She didn't deserve this.

Unable to stop himself, he took her hand.

“I don't think you're a monster or a freak”, he spoke softly.

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Hel's POV

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Hel felt a blush rise to both of her cheeks and for the first time in quite a while, her left side turned lively.

“You don't?”, she asked

The dead god shook his head vehemently: “Absolutely not! They were fools for not seeing your magnificence!”

Her blush intensified and she couldn't help but smile.

“Thank you, Baldr. That means a lot to me.”

Of course it didn't escape her, that her apparent joy made him happy in return.

Oh Baldr, you sweet and messed up summer child.

.

A few hours later, at the lunch table, he thought of another question.

“Hel, can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can.”

“Uhm … do you come after your mother? I mean, you definitely have Loki's wit and gallows humour, but except for that, I don't see much of a resemblance between you and him.”

Hel smirked.

Baldr giggled: “Okay, scratch that. That is definitely a Loki-smirk.

“Why, thank you!”, the Queen of the Dead snickered. “I'll take that as a compliment. But to answer your question: yes, I do come more after my mother – at least on the good side.”

By his curious eyes she could tell, that he wanted to know more, but was afraid to ask.

“Go on”, she encouraged him.

He fidgeted a little. “Your mother … what was she like?”

Hel tilted her head. “Why did you hesitate to ask me that?”

“W-well … I thought … I …”

“That it would hurt me to be reminded of her?”

“Y-yes.”

“It doesn't”, she assured him. “I like remembering my mother. She was the most unimpressed person you could ever meet. Very outspoken too, though she didn't talk much. She didn't smile much, but never got angry either. She would teach us her magic and all kinds of runes and spells. Mother didn't play with us, that was father's job. But sometimes she would do something sweet. Small gestures here and there. When I was a little girl, I asked my mother for bells to play with. She said no, but on Yule I found them in my Yule bag. It was father, who gave them to me, but he whispered into my ear, that it had been mother's doing. 'But that's a secret, sweetie', he said, 'Don't tell Mama I told you'. These …” She took the scythe, which was leaning against the table and shook it, making the bells ring, “… are the very same bells. They're my most priced possession.”

Baldr was smiling from ear to ear. “That's such a sweet story! You and your family must have been so close.”

“We still are”, Hel corrected. “We always were, always are and always will be. I'm sure that as an Ása you know that kind of love. During my brief stay in Asgard I could tell, that your family is a very tight-knit group.”

He clearly understood.

“I want you to understand, Baldr, that it doesn't upset me to talk about my family. I have nothing but fond memories of them. What upsets me is what your family did to us. My brothers and I, we were only children, when your father tore us apart. I do not truly hate Óðinn, because I know and understand, why does what he does. Still he hurt us and for that I resent him.”

Baldr nodded sadly. “I think I do understand. You're a strong person to not hate my father.”

Hel sighed: “I wouldn't call it strong. It's not so much strong as it is wise. It's the sensible thing to do. Hatred doesn't resolve anything. It just makes you more miserable, blackens your soul and clouds your judgement. My father is the hateful, vindictive one.”

“Can confirm”, Baldr said wryly and pointed to where he had been pierced by the mistletoe dart.

Right that moment, the waiters came in and brought lunch.

When Baldr saw the content of his bowl, his face brightened up.

“Ohhh, girolle stew with mussels!”, he squealed in delight.

Hel chortled, as the light god proceeded to practically inhale his food.

“You certainly have a healthy appetite!”, she snickered.

Baldr laughed sheepishly: “Yeah, Nanna would say that too. She used to joke, that, if we weren't so rich, I would eat us out of house and home.”

Hel snickered some more: “Don't you worry, Bright One. There is no danger of that happening. You can eat as much as you want.”

The blond beamed and refilled his bowl.

.

Later Hel was sitting in her office doing her paperwork and making zoom calls.

She was on the call with a few of her foreign colleagues, when a knock on her office door got her attention.

“Wait a second, guys, someone just knocked on my office – ENTER!”, she called out to whoever was waiting outside.

She was a little surprised, when the door opened to reveal …

“Baldr! What can I do for you?”, Hel inquired.

He was smiling sweetly – primordial cow, it looked so cute!

“Hi, I just wanted to- oh, wait, I see you're busy”, he noted sheepishly. “I'm sorry. I'll just come back later-”

“Don't be silly! Come here, Óðinnson!”, she ordered.

.

Baldr's POV

.

Baldr obeyed, albeit hesitantly.

“Come”, she repeated. “I want you to meet my colleagues from abroad.”

He joined her behind the magical screens and saw the faces inside them.

“Everyone”, Hel addressed her colleagues, “I want you to meet my new companion. This is-”

“Baldr!”, one of the other underworld rulers exclaimed and waved behind their screen. “What a surprise! Hi!”

Baldr recognised the other and beamed. “Oh, hey, Persephone!”

Hel blinked: “You two know each other?”

Baldr nodded. “Yes, I've met her a few times, when my family and I would visit the Olympians for business-”

“So this is the dead god you're hosting now?”, one of the other zoom call participants asked. “I've heard of some god dying and entering your realm.”

“Yes, this is him”, Hel confirmed. “Baldr, this is Osiris, son of Nut and Geb. He's the king of the Egyptian underworld and very much like you. Osiris, this is Baldr Óðinnson, formerly the god of light, peace, joy, justice, spring and all that stuff – which should be obvious by the way he glows.”

Some of the foreign chthonic deities laughed.

Curiously Baldr regarded the Egyptian god. Through the screen he could tell that the other had green skin, was clad in white linen and wearing a white crown.

“So you died too?”

“Yes, no thanks to my brother Seth”, Osiris sighed. “My wife and some helpers sewed me back together and resurrected me. But since I was already dead, I couldn't return to the land of the living, so here I am, ruling the afterlife. But it's a nice gig and I'm comfortable here. I'm sure, you will like living with Hel too. Once you get used to her aloof demeanour, you will find, that she's a very likeable person.”

“Oh, I do!”, Baldr agreed eagerly. “I really like it here!”

He couldn't help but laugh, when Hel gawked at him like he had just grown a second head.

“What's so funny?”, Hel complained, “This is the first time I hear that sentence!”

Baldr gasped: “What??? Well, then I will have to tell you more often, because it's true!”

He was very pleased with himself, when the left side of Hel's face turned significantly more lifelike (though she was still deathly pale) and a blush tainted her right cheek.

That means she's happy, right? According to Ganglati, that means she's happy.

“Awww!”, some of the foreign underworld rulers cooed.

“So cute!”, Persephone gushed.

“Does anyone have something of importance to say, before I end this conference?”, one of the participants – a skeletal god with a splendid, colourful feather crown – asked.

Everyone else said no.

“Good. The meeting is over.”

Hel lost no time in switching her screens off.

Baldr gave her a questioning look. “Not even so much as a goodbye?”

“Not among us underworld gods”, she muttered. “Besides, I don't need to hear their gossiping. In that regard many chthonic deities are just as bad as most upperworld deities.”

Ah. No wonder she wanted to get away as quickly as possible.

“They're going to ship us, aren't they?”, he sighed.

“Like GodEx”, she grumbled. “Especially the married ones. You have to excuse them. Every time they suspect that one of us singles has even so much as a crush, they get all … stupid.”

“Ah. Yes, I've been there.”

“I know you have. By the way, you can sit down.”

Baldr smiled gratefully and sat on the chair in front of Hel's desk.

She leaned back in her own chair and regarded him across the table.

“So! What brings you here?”, she wanted to know.

He shifted in his chair.

For a few minutes he had forgot about what he had come here for, but now he was reminded. He had just wanted to … wanted to – oh Allfather, what had he been thinking? She was the Queen of the Dead, she had so many better and more important things to do than listen to his stupid-

“Go on. Spit it out.”

“I … I just … I …”

He grew pale, when he saw how the left half of her face decayed again and she began to frown. He was displeasing her. She was getting agitated, just because he couldn't even … damn it!

And just like that he broke into tears.

“I'm sorry!”, he blubbered, “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to- I'm sorry! I'm sorry!”

Through the blur he could just about make out Hel leaping up and darting around the table, then her right hand cupping his face and the other dabbing at his eyes with a paper tissue.

“Hey now.” Her voice was so gentle. “There is nothing to say sorry for. You don't owe me an apology. You don't owe me anything.”

“But … but …”

“Listen to me, Baldr”, she spoke sternly. “You don't have to please me. You don't have to live up to my expectations. I expect nothing of you. You don't have to put on a false smile and pretend that everything is fine, when it's really not. I know everything, Baldr. I saw the hurt, anxiety and depression, that broke you to the point where you wanted to die. I saw the lone moments, when you sought comfort in your twin's arms, because the pressure was too much to bear. But you know what? It's gone now. You're dead. You're free. Just let go.”

Let go.

Only one person had ever told him that in his life: Höðr, his dear twin-brother. No one else had ever understood.

In his beauty, purity and wisdom, Baldr appeared to be perfect.

He was not.

Blinded by admiration or envy, the people, who flocked around him, forgot that he too had his shortcomings. Höðr had been the only one, who had never forgot, had never expected anything of him. And now there was another person, who asked nothing of him either, who understood his feelings?

Baldr cried harder. He couldn't help it.

For a second he was confused, when Hel moved to take him in her arms, only to stop short. But then she shifted and let him lean into her right shoulder, instead of the left. Honestly, Baldr wouldn't have given a damn, he just wanted to be held, to cry his heart out and be told that everything was alright now.

This was wrong, because he was just one of many dead people and she was his new queen and sovereign. It was undignified and improper, downright insulting and disrespectful even, to get emotional in front of a monarch.

But for some reason Baldr couldn't bring himself to care.

He just drank in the physical closeness and Hel's soothing and placid aura and listened to her murmured words of comfort.

.

“Are you feeling a bit better?”, Hel asked, when he had finally stopped crying.

He nodded, sniffling. “Yeah … I think so. Thank you so much. I really needed that, I suppose.”

“No need to thank me”, she replied and handed him a jug of water. “Just know that, whenever you need someone to talk to, I'm all ears- uhhh, Baldr, why are you pouting like that?”

“Why are you wearing your hair like that?”, he all but huffed. “You haven't done that since Nanna saw your face and couldn't stand looking at it.”

She had brushed her black hair forward to hide the decayed part of her face and for some reason that bothered him even more now than it had a few days ago.

Hel made her “owl face”, tilting her head and looking at him with that bottomless black eye.

But it soon gave way to her usual blank expression.

.

Hel's POV

.

“Can you stand looking at it?”, Hel questioned earnestly. “Your breakdown happened after you saw how my condition worsened. You saw my face decay and flipped out.”

Baldr blushed and mumbled: “Uhm … it wasn't because of that. You see, I noticed that your left side changes condition and your butler explained to me, that it's affected by your mood. So when that happened earlier and you started frowning, I … I thought …”

“That you had displeased or even angered me”, Hel realised. “I see. Looks like I owe you an apology. I didn't mean to frighten you. I was getting impatient, because of your stuttering, yes, but angry? No. How could I ever be angry at someone like you?”

She flashed him a half smile.

For the first time in his life, Baldr acted on impulse: he brushed her hair out of the left half of her face and tucked it behind her ear.

“That's better”, he smiled.

It took her a heroic amount of self-control not to blush again, like a flustered teenager (Niflheimr, she was thousands of years old and had never once gotten flustered before Baldr had showed up!).

But damn, he's so adorable!

She coughed awkwardly and returned to her chair behind her desk.

“Now, that you have calmed down, what did you want to talk about?”

Baldr blinked, as if he had forgot.

But then he laughed: “Oh, right! I just wanted to know, if we could talk more about our families, you and I. If you want to and have time, of course.”

She could feel her left side become more lifelike, enabling her to smile fully.

“I would very much like that, Óðinnson.”

.

---

.

1) Ultraviolet-A light. The proper term for black light. As a god of light, Baldr would know everything about light and the different spectra and would probably say UV-A light, rather than black light. 2) Fallandaforað: "Falling Bale/Falling Danger", Hel's threshold.

[bungou-stray-dingus]

Musical Headcanon

Song : The Neighbourhood : Softcore

Pairing : Dazai x Reader

TW : some depictions of nsfw stuff but not like full description idk; I guess it’s kind of angsty

You were beautiful, it was undeniable. The way your hair curtained your face as your head fell whenever you laughed, the sound of it was like the twinkling of wind chimes. The way your eyes lit up when you saw him, the blush that spread like fire beneath your skin, turning your cheeks a light cherry blossom pink.

He had been immediately attracted to you, the first time he saw you leaning over the desk, watching over Kunikida’s shoulder as he wrote in his notebook. You had looked uninterested, and you peaked up at him through your long lashes, it was the first time he was caught off guard by a woman.

You laughed at all his jokes, played along with his pranks on the members of the ADA, you matched his humor to a T, the two of you were perfect together, you made him happy, and that’s what scared the hell out of Dazai.

Waking up next to you on mornings after he’d spent the night having you clawing at the sheets, leaving love bites all over your body, having you screaming his name. Your hair splayed across the pillow, your lips swollen and slightly bruised from him biting and pulling at them a little too hard, but you never told him to stop. The bite marks, and the varying sizes of red and purple bruises trailing down your neck from when he’d bury his face in your skin, wrapping his lips around your neck, biting and sucking at it to muffle his own moans of pleasure.

The way your eyes would flutter open, the sun hitting your Y/E/C just the right way, making them light up like they were his own personal sun, the small smile that you’d try to hide by biting your bottom lip, everything about you was absolutely perfect to him. You would never stick around for too long in the morning, quickly getting dressed and heading out after kissing him lightly, telling him you’d see him at work. He loved that you weren’t clingy, but when you’d leave his heart would sink, and he didn’t feel complete until he was with you again, and this confused him.

He was never complete, he would never be whole, his mind wasn’t in the right place. Not right now at least, maybe he would never happy, but when he was with you he felt like he could be.

Sharing my heart

It's tearing me apart

But I know I'd miss you, baby, if I left right now

Doing what I can, tryna be a man

And every time I kiss you, baby

I can hear the sound of breaking down

He’d thought of leaving you many times, it would be better for him, better for you. It was only getting worse, he was getting too attached, he was prone to fucking up, and he didn’t want to drag you along, you’d just get hurt when the inevitable happened. He would hurt you in some way, he was sure of it, he would end up breaking your heart, and he didn’t know if he would be able to live with himself if he did that.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” He asked, walking into the small cafe on the bottom floor of the office. You were sitting at your usual booth, sipping on your coffee. You licked your lips as you looked up at him. He swallowed hard, trying to get himself prepared for what he knew he had to do.

“Sure thing baby, what’s up?” The way you said it, the blush in your cheeks, the way you smiled at him. Could he do it? You reached your hand across the table, grabbing his hands, and he should have pulled his hands away, make it quick, break your heart and walk away. He didn’t have a problem doing it before, what was so different about you?

“I uh... can’t wait to see you tonight.” He said. You chuckled, and he sighed. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t hurt you. He would miss you too much, miss seeing you every morning, miss seeing your smile whenever he walked in the room. He leaned across the table and kissed you lightly before heading up to the office. He was breaking, he was letting himself get too close, he promised himself he wouldn’t get attached, but now he felt like his heart was practically attached to yours. If he broke your heart, his would end up breaking with it.

I've been confused as of late

Watching my youth slip away

You're like the sun, you wake me up

But you drain me out if I get too much

I might need you or I'll break

He crashed next to you on the bed, staring out the window.

“Hey... you okay?” You asked, your fingers brushing the hair out of his face. Your voice so sweet, so sincere, but he could hear your heart beating too fast, still coming down from the high of your climax.

“Yeah, just thinking.” He mumbled, and it must have been enough, you kissed his forehead, your breath felt cold against his damp forehead. Your back was against his as you curled up under the covers, your breaths slowly evening out as you drifted to sleep.

He was getting worse, he felt like he was falling in love with you. He was too young for this, at least he was mentally. He wasn’t in the right place for a stable relationship, for a commitment. But you were the light in his life, his own personal sun, you gave him reason to wake up in the morning, even if just to see you glowing in the sun that came in through his window as you peacefully slept. There was such thing as too much light, too much sun though, and now days it felt like it was too much for him. You were too bright, and he felt like he was completely drained after being with you for too long.

It was nights like this that he thought he would finally be able to tell you, tell you that it needed to end, that he needed to stop seeing you. But then he’d wake up next you the next morning, and watching you leave made him scared to tell you. How could he leave you if just seeing you walk out of his apartment made him feel empty, like he had just lost a piece of himself. He needed you, if he didn’t have you he would go back to his old ways, he would break.

I don't want to play this part

But I do, all for you

I don't want to make this hard

But I will 'cause I'm still

Sharing my heart

It's tearing me apart

But I know I'd miss you, baby, if I left right now

Doing what I can, tryna be a man

And every time I kiss you, baby

I can hear the sound of breaking down

Time dragged on, and he couldn’t bring himself to end it. Weeks turned to months, and months turned to a year, the thought lingered in the back of his head, but he decided that it didn’t matter. You had become a part of his life, too important to let go. He’d be broken, he’d be a wreck without you there to hold him together.

He didn’t want to do it, he didn’t think he could. He wouldn’t be able to keep you happy, so what was the point in trying? But then he’d see your face light up, and the thought was dropped, you were happy with him, with all of his flaws, you accepted him and everything that came along with being with him.

It was hard on him, trying to keep you happy when he could barely keep himself happy, but you were his happiness, he was torn. He was making it harder on himself, doubting himself constantly, but whenever he was around you he felt like it could be done, and he was going to keep trying, no matter how hard it got, because as much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself his heart belonged to you.

He couldn’t leave, he would just be leaving his heart with you. He had tried, one time, saying that maybe the two of you needed a break. His heart broke as he saw the tears spill over and run down your cheeks, but he was able to walk away. It wasn’t until he got back to his apartment that he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Your side of the bed was empty, but it was indented with the shape of your body, your smell clung to the sheets, and he couldn’t keep it up. It only lasted three days, which felt like forever to him, his mornings were dark, it might as well have still been night time. Seeing you in the office, it was too much for him. He had grabbed your hand and pulled you out into the hallway, pushing you against the wall, his lips crashed onto yours. He could finally breathe again, but it felt wrong, needing you this much, but he did, and he couldn’t deny it anymore.

He had you at his apartment every night, just so he could see you in the morning. He didn’t want to leave your side, he hated the feeling of being away from you. With every kiss he felt his walls being broken down, at this rate they would all be gone soon. That’s why he was so scared of losing you. You had made it possible for him to finally be truly happy, and he couldn’t ruin it. Your hearts were one now, and it scared the shit out of him.

[morganaofcamelot]

If Wishes Came True (Chapter 3)

Title: If Wishes Came True Chapter III: Killer on the Loose Pt.I

Fandom: BBC Robin Hood

Ships: Guy of Gisborne/Original Female Character, Guy of Gisborne/Marian of Knighton, Original Female Character/Original Male Character

Definately an AU - Sir Guy of Gisborne has served the current Sheriff of Nottingham for five years prior to the beginning of the first season, and is considered a part of the family, both by Vaisey and his daughter Valerie. The chapters are from Val’s POV, as she struggles to maintain her youthful innocence in a place that’s all too willing to steal it away from her, and navigate the intrigues of her father. [Many changes from the show, although the fic loosely follows season 1]

Important Note: English is not my first language, so I’d appreciate if you can point out any mistakes I make.

On AO3

Tumblr: Ch I, Ch II

Sir Guy found her standing against a wall, her hands folded in the most unladylike manner, her gaze far away. He crossed the courtyard with swift paces. It was too late, when she realized that he was walking towards her. “Valerie,” he said. “I’ve heard about what happened, are you alright? He did not hurt you?” his voice betrayed his concern. She sighed.

“Welcome back, Guy.” She said and turned to leave. Sir Guy was quick to grab her arm, not entirely ungently. His eyes shone with a strong emotion; anger, she thought. But is it directed at me?

“What happened?” he insisted.

Valerie recounted the last night’s events and the threat Huntington had posed both to her and her father. She fought the tears bravely, and they did not come. She spared a glance at his face; Sir Guy’s fury was palpable.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his hands on her shoulders. “I wasn’t there to protect you.” Come hell or high water, I will stand beside you and protect you until I draw my last breath. The vow he had made her years ago came to her mind. She had been a girl of only eleven, and he had been a man of five-and-twenty, recently anointed a knight, and recently brought into her father’s household. His black hair had been longer, then and he had let her brush them. Her father quickly took a liking to him, and Sir Guy returned it with much enthusiasm. Half a year later, he was a member of their family; the son Vaisey always wanted, and the big brother Valerie always wished for. “You are a sister to me.”

Valerie’s smile was bittersweet. “I know.” I wish you wouldn’t say it. Quickly changing the subject, before she said or did something she would later regret, she told him of another incident.

“I had an argument with the sheriff,” she said. Sir Guy raised an eyebrow.

“The sheriff?” he said, noting the spite in her tone. “It mustn’t have gone well, then. Tell me, maybe I can help.”

She smiled half-heartedly. “You are right on that front. I asked him to let me train with a sword, if only to protect myself. That man,” she said pointedly, “Would have killed us in a heartbeat. You of all people know, father isn’t as good with a sword as he once was. Age has taken its toll on him.”

“And he refused?” Sir Guy deducted. She only nodded in affirmation. “Sword fighting is better left to the men.”

Valerie sighed in exasperation. “But none of the men could stop Huntingdon!” She shivered as she was reminded of the cold-hearted glow in the man’s eyes. Sir Guy noticed and tried to soothe her.

“I could teach you a few things,” he finally said. Valerie looked up at him; he had that half-smile on his face, that she always associated with him. He means it.

Forgetting all sense of propriety, and the fact that she wasn’t actually related with the black-clad knight, Valerie hugged him tightly. She was tall, for a woman, but he was a giant; the top of her head barely touched his chin. He returned the embrace.

“But,” he said in a low whisper, “it has to be a secret.”

Letting go, Valerie promised him that she would tell nobody about this.

“Very well. I’ll meet you at the stables, when the bell strikes four times.”

***

She brimmed with an excitement for the rest of the day, barely containing herself from laughing out loud and raise the suspicions of her father. Oh, but he’ll be furious if he ever learnt of our arrangement, she thought with glee. Nothing could make her come down from the clouds right then.

True to his word, Sir Guy was at the stables when the bell signaled that four hours had passed since noon. The previous excitement in her, had now turned into a nervous reaction, when she realized that she was going to spend time with him, all alone.

“Are you ready for it?” He asked, offering a gloved hand.

She cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said, taking it. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He led me in the far back, where the old stables used to be, now empty of people and horses.

He picked a short sword from a rack on the far wall, its blade dull and unthreatening. He handed it to me, and took a normal sized one for himself. “Now, stance is the most important thing. You learn to stand correctly, and you learn to defend yourself. He walked behind her and arranged her feet with his own. “You’re wearing breeches. Smart.” She couldn’t see him, but she was sure he was smiling. Her heartbeat quickened.

Satisfied with her lower body, Guy swiftly moved to correct her upper half. “This way,” he murmured with every little change he made. His breath was on the top of her head, sending involuntary tingles throughout the rest of her body. “Good.” He said at last, and moved to stand beside her.

He proceeded with demonstrating a basic defensive move, and made her copy it again and again, on her own. After some time – Valerie couldn’t tell whether it’s been a moment or a day since they began – Guy was on the offensive. He attacked her and she parried his blows, gaining more confidence with each blow she managed to block. He picked up the pace, and she quickly read into his intention, using the sword as an extension of her arm.

The bell rang. One, two, three, four, five times.

Sir Guy lowered his sword. “That’s enough for one day.” He said, placing the blunt blade on the rack. “You might feel your arms sore and heavy for a few days. Do not worry about it, it’ll be your muscles complaining for the sudden exertion.”

Valerie placed her short sword next to his. “I feel fine.” She said, dismissively. “When will we train again? Oh, and how did I do?”

The knight gave a half-smile. “If you keep learning so fast, I’ll have you replace the Captain of the Guard in a year.” It sounded like teasing, but she did do well on her first day. “We’ll reconvene on Monday, same hour.”

In three days. Valerie was over the moon.

“Run along, now.” He said, and Valerie rushed to do as she was bid, her heart beating wildly.

***

Sir Guy had kept his word; every three or four days he would meet her at the old stable for an hour of sword practice. And so the Spring Equinox had come and gone by with April on the heels, bringing bluer skies and happier attitudes. There had been no news of Robin Hood, as the men had taken to call him, now that he wasn’t the Earl of Huntingdon anymore. Sir Guy was given the title with little ceremony, and had welcomed them for a feast in his newly acquired manor. Valerie had never seen her father look more proud when he thought nobody was looking. It made her smile.

On the ninth day of April, however, things took a turn for the worse; a bailiff had been struck by an arrow in the village of Nettlestone. The lords of the shire had been called to a meeting in the castle. Valerie attended it, seated by her father’s side. Lady Marian was also attending it, standing by her own father, and Valerie watched her closely; she carried no hidden blade in her hair at this time, although she couldn’t help feeling uneasy.

“The villagers of Nettlestone have reported that the outlaw commonly known as Robin Hood had murdered Joderick, the bailiff.” Her father’s voice was low and calm. The lords were shocked and it showed in various degrees. “Well, this is a shocking matter, isn’t it? Even his beloved villagers lose their patience when their heroes start picking them off. What else was in that report, Sir Guy?”

Sir Guy’s voice was lower still. Valerie knew that he had worked with Joderick for a long time, back when the knight served as a tax collector. She had heard him speak fondly of him many a time. “They’re saying that Hood promised that he would prevent the eviction.”

The sheriff shook his head. “War had addled his brain, I’m not at all surprised. But I didn’t have him capable of murder. Maybe his current status as an outlaw have drove him mad.” He made a pause. Valerie recalled the night that man barged into the hall, thirsty for her father’s blood. The sheriff had told him that he thought him incapable for murder, back then. She begged to differ. “What do you propose?”

Sir Guy was the first to offer a solution – he was the sheriff’s man-at-arms and his enforcer. “I suggest we round all those who are helping Hood by not informing us about his whereabouts. He would have been caught by now, if not for their help.”

To Valerie’s surprise, Lady Marian spoke up, despite her father’s attempts to tell her to stop. “And have this practices ever worked before? Those villagers reported the crime, seeking justice.” Marian looked at the sheriff and Sir Guy interchangeably. But if Valerie was impressed by her bold statement, her father’s answer left her wondering if something had him possessed.

“I agree with you, lady Marian. This is not the correct way to go about this. Sir Marcus, do you have any suggestions?” Her father turned to the man standing a little further on Valerie’s right side. He was the Master-at-Arms, the man who took care of the castle’s security and the guards’ training.

The man cleared his throat, and spoke with absolute conviction. “This gives us a political advantage, my lord. Have every town crier announce what’s taken place at the village, make sure everybody knows that an innocent was killed.”

The sheriff nodded in agreement. “Ah, yes. He has given us the high ground; we should keep it. I like this idea. See to it.” Sir Marcus nodded. “Do not be fearful my lords, the culprit will be caught! Dismissed.”

Valerie stood up and followed her father. Sir Guy did, too, to whisper in the sheriff’s ear. “My lord, I still believe in actions rather than words. If I had the resources, I could hunt him down.”

Valerie kept her head down, feigning disinterest in their talk. “Very well,” her father said. “We shall do it both ways. But, be discreet about it.” His answer resulted in a smirk, and off Sir Guy went to put in motion the sheriff’s shadow operation.

Her father leaned to talk to her. “He likes some competition, this boy. I shall give it to him.”

Valerie’s smile did not touch her eyes. She just wished Sir Guy wouldn’t be hurt in the process.

***

The funeral of Joderick, the poor bailiff that was slain by Robin Hood, took place in the town’s square; lots of people had shown up to honor the man, nobles and peasants alike. Valerie stood beside Sir Guy, who was trying to look as impassive as possible. Valerie daren’t spoke to him, for she feared his grief went beyond words.

From her vantage point, she saw Marian sneak away through the gathered crowd, stealthily hiding behind a wall. Valerie made to move, to follow her, but she thought better of it and stopped. It wouldn’t do, to being seen leaving before her father ended his speech. She was a good girl. Lady Marian and her secrets can wait.

Later in the day, her suspicions of Lady Marian were all but forgotten. Valerie was informed by the steward that Sir Guy, before he went on his grand hunt, had requested that Marian stays in the castle, even though her father had decreed otherwise. Valerie gave her consent, and was intent on keeping a close watch on that woman.

After supper, her father worked on the documents, as Valerie read by the candlelight. A servant boy entered with a flagon and two goblets. The boy made the mistake of placing the plater on the wrong side, and the sheriff made his displeasure known by merely teasing the lad. He got up, and whispered something to him Valerie couldn’t hear, and then a whoosh.

“Argh” her father yelled. The boy was lying on the ground face-first, with an arrow protruding from his back. “Guards! Guards!” he yelled and walked over to her in panic. “It is Robin Hood!” he kept repeating.

Valerie was stunned. The poor boy! The guards barged in, with the Sir Marcus behind them. “My lord!” The knight took a look at the boy and paled.

[kewltie]

Izuku breathes, deep shaky breaths that make his lungs rattle. Then he raises a clenched fist up to knock against the door. Once. Twice. Several more times in quick succession before the door is yank open to reveal an annoyed and exhausted looking Katsuki.

"What the fuck are you doing out here this late?" he hisses, gripping the door like it’s the only thing that keep him standing. "It’s almost passed midnight. You should be in your bed!

Wordlessly, Izuku pushes pass Katsuki. He strolls in and stops in the middle of the bedchamber, turning around to face his husband. Determination lines his shoulders and carries in his voice. "I'll be sleeping here tonight," he declares to the room at large.

The master bedroom of the manor is ubiquitously large and spaced out with sparse furniture. There is a large four poster bed pressed up against one side of the wall and underneath Izuku’s feet is gorgeous deep burgundy fur rug. While Katsuki had clearly spent some times here, this entire room doesn’t feel live in.

The candlelight from the oil lamp in Izuku's left hand flickers ominously under Katsuki's weltering glare. "What?!" he demands, kicking the door close with a loud thump. "Have you gone—" He pauses and shakes his head. "What am I even saying, it's you and your maddening ideas."

Izuku raises his chin defiantly. "The servants have been talking. Whispering behind my back," he says, looking away momentarily. Right hand clenches at his side. "You haven't visited my bedchamber since I've arrived here and I'm not the only one who noticed that." He smiles thinly.

"They're servants," Katsuki says with a flippant wave of his hand that makes Izuku feel like an errant child getting dismissed. "Let them talk."

Izuku's eyes flash in the amber glow of the room. "You left me in charge of the estate so I can't have them think so little of me that my own husband avoids my bed like the plague. How will they respect me now?"

Katsuki sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What do you suggest then?"

Izuku waves a hand toward the rumbled bed. "We'll sleep together," he says, and then at Katsuki's silent look of horror and disbelief, he blushes furiously. "N-not like that! Just platonically!"

"I wasn't thinking of that either!" Katsuki snaps back, face just as red as Izuku now. "Get your mind out of the fucking gutter."

Izuku almost drop his face into his hand and groan. This entire sequence of event is already embarrassing at it is, but they're married. They aren’t newlyweds anymore. Which, quite frankly, made it even worst.

It'd been five years. They're neither the same hormonal, clumsy sixteen years old anymore, standing on either side of the bedroom on their nuptial night, but even now the suggestion of sex turns both them into awkward youths all over again. It's distressing, and a relief.

Perhaps the hotly contested rumors of Katsuki visiting salacious saloons and teashops are something he should stop and think twice about now. If he was once that bright eyed smitten sixteen years old, he would say his husband isn't that kind of man to go against his marital vow, but he doesn't know him.

Izuku knows Bakugou Katsuki from worn out letters and stories hailed from loose lips; Izuku knows his many triumphant and failures, his characters and faults, and his tempers and fits, but he doesn’t know how Katsuki prefer his coffee in the morning, does he like to sleep on the left or right side of the bed, and if the way his heart beat as true as Izuku. Izuku may love him but he doesn't know him truly yet, and he's about to find out what kind of man is Bakugou Katsuki.

"Then I'll have the left side and you take the right," he says, heading toward the bed without any prompting.

"Wait," Katsuki calls out, voice oddly strained, "you're using the bed? My bed?!"

"That is what 'we'll sleep together' would normally imply," Izuku says dryly over his shoulder.

Katsuki scowls. "I'm not fucking sharing a bed with you."

Izuku places the oil lamp on the nightstand and settles on the edge of the large mattress. "You can sleep on the floor then," he says pointedly, looking down at the wooden floors lining the entire room.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor like a paltry servant," Katsuki hisses, marching toward him barely held anger licking at his heels. "This is my bed, my home, and you are my husband. I do not lower myself before you!" Dominance and anger oozes out of him in spades. It clogs up Izuku’s nose and a lesser person could easily crumble under that power, but this is Izuku.

He hums thoughtfully as he slides his legs up on to the bed. "Do you believe your father is beneath your mother then?" Izuku asks, tilting his head curiously. "Lady Mitsuki is the Head of the House but Lord Masaru doesn't defer to her because of her position."

Katsuki bristles, looming over Izuku’s seated figure. He appears larger than life. Something predatory and dangerous, and Izuku is his prey. "This isn't about my parents!” he shouts. “Don't bring them into this. The moment you stepped into this estate and fell back into your role as my husband, everything you do and say is under my authority. You do not get to play me like a fool."

Izuku smiles with far too many teeth showing. "You're right this isn't about your parents," he admits. His crosses his legs as he stares at Katsuki with steely resolution. "They at least respect each other, you don't. You're my lord and husband, but I obey you not because I have to but I choose to do so," he explains. "Careful to not mistake my obedience for complete docility."

Katsuki's magnificent red eyes flare up like embers in the dark. "I don't think you have a single docile bone your body,” he scoffs.

"Ah," Izuku muses, heart rattle like a caged animal. It's not that he's inherently fearless, it's because he's afraid that it'd made him bold. Wretchedly, so. He doesn't want to lose Katsuki again. To be left forgotten and discarded for five long, aching years; his worst nightmare keeping him up late at night. So he’d sharpened his tongue, walled off his heart, and played up his role as the calculating, willful gold digger. "Then you do not know me well, my lord."

Katsuki's eyes narrows. "And if I'm not interest in what you're selling?" he says, his hand reaching toward to a stray strand of Izuku's hair. He holds it in his palm between his fingers. It's a gentle but firm grip and there's not a single trace of tenderness in it.

It's about power and dominance. A show that Izuku's life is in his hand.

Izuku bats the controlling gesture away with a level look. "I'm sure you'll regret that folly later," he says coolly, despite the pang in his battered heart. He’d taken enough bruising for one night, turning his back to Katsuki and sliding under the quilt.

And that was that.

He had cut himself enough time on Katsuki's sharp edges to know when it's time to retreat; a tactical retreat. It's not cowardice on his part, because even he need times to lick his wounds after having been beaten for so long.

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut and pulls the quilt up close. He nearly want to throw it over his head as if that can protect him from Katsuki's cutting remarks and abrasiveness, but he won't even give that to Katsuki. He won't capitulate that far.

It's not a white flag. Yet.

With his eyes close, quiet reigns over them. His stone walled silence made the message clear: he's not moving from his spot so the choice is all on Katsuki. But what will win out in the end, Katsuki's unyielding pride or his sheer stubbornness? Will it be the bed or the floor for him?

It says a lot about his husband that it felt like a long time coming, the rundown of an entire candle, as a storm of curses is thrown in the air before a rustling of movements and then a weight casts on the other side of the bed. As far from Izuku's presence as possible.

But the fact that they're finally sharing a bed for the first time in their five years of marriage is enough. The distance between them here is far more manageable compares to when it was thousands of miles apart between Tokyo and Fukuoka.

Izuku lets out long exhale of relief that he didn't even know he was holding. Just being on the same bed with Katsuki is a step forward to the day when his presence here will be accepted unquestionably. Sometimes it's the smaller victories that will eventually win the entire war. You cannot win if you don’t fight and Izuku had been fighting this unwinnable war for a long, long time; he’s too stupidly stubborn to know when to quit yet.  

[ephemeralstark]

Keep On Fighting In the Meantime

Summary: One decision is all it takes for someone's life to be thrown upside down, and sometimes it's not even a decision they've made.

Or, a drunk driver runs a red light and hits a car containing Peter and Happy. The physical and emotional injuries aren't going to go away easily, but thankfully Mr. Stark is always there for his family.

8.5K | Rated T and up | complete

Read HERE on AO3 or click the read more to view here on tumblr

“Peter are you sure you don’t wanna come?” Ned asked as he shoved a pile of papers into his locker, Peter supressed a flinch as he heard some of them tear from the rough force.

“Nah, Mr. Stark said he had some upgrades for Karen and I want to see if I can get her to understand Gen Z humour,” Peter said, “she keeps trying to call for help whenever I make jokes. Apparently, it’s ‘concerning’.”

“I mean it probably is to the uninitiated.” Ned agreed as he tried to jam his locker shut, the papers sticking out around the edges of the door.

“Y’know, MJ is gonna kill you when she sees the state of those.” Peter told him.

“Yeah, but I told her I don’t have room in my locker to store decathlon prep, this will just prove my point.” Ned said with a shrug.

“Dude.” Peter said, shaking his head at his best friend. “You’re a dead man walking. Like genuinely. You must have a death wish.”

“Maybe if she kills me, I won’t have to go to that 8am practice on Saturday.” Ned said after a moment of quiet deliberation as he looked at his locker.

“Bold of you to assume even death could get you out of practice.” Peter snorted, before glancing at him phone that buzzed with a message. “I gotta go, I don’t want to keep Happy waiting. Have fun going over all the wrong answers with the team.”

“It’s meant to be a team dinner.” Ned said quietly, a distinct whine in his voice. “It’s meant to be fun and relaxing.”

“Sure, and MJ stepped down as the leader.” Peter muttered; his words laced with sarcasm.

Peter laughed at Ned’s despair and made his way out of the back door of the school. He had an agreement with Mr. Stark that he would allow himself to be picked up by Happy so long as he used the most discreet car and parked around the back of the school.

While it would have been nice to rub it in Flash’s face that he really was an intern with Stark Industries, he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the extra attention that would come with people believing his story. His classmates would pretend to be his friend only to get close to Mr. Stark and reap the benefits, the media would jump on the story of the high school intern, and some people – in the depths of the internet - would even begin to theorise that Peter Parker was in fact Spider-Man.

So, yes, Peter decided to give up on trying to convince his classmates that he wasn’t a liar.

The familiar Audi was parked by the yellow curb and Peter could see an irate looking Happy checking his watch in the driver’s seat. He mentally snorted, apparently discreet meant an Audi that was illegally parked. Mr. Stark really didn’t have a clue.

“You’re late.” Happy said as Peter opened the back door and threw his backpack in, sliding in after it.

“Actually, I’m not.” Peter said.

“I was here bang on 5:30.” Happy said. “Practice ended at 5:30 and now it’s 5:40. You’re ten minutes late.”

“You’re insane,” Peter declared happily, “and time is a construct. It doesn’t exist, we made it up as humans to suit our needs.”

“You’re not going to exist if you continue speaking nonsense,” Happy said as he pulled away, the child locks automatically clicking on, “time is a real thing, trust me I’ve had enough arguments with Tony about that, and if you’re late again I’m gonna leave you.”

“Mr. Stark would make you come back and get me if you left.” Peter said, calling Happy’s bluff.

“Don’t I know it.” Happy complained. “He’s going soft thanks to you.”

He didn’t say that like it was a bad thing, in fact, Peter thought he almost sounded happy about that fact, but that was impossible. This was Happy they were talking about. Happy was never happy. He was always the grumpy, stoic figure in the driver’s seat who would make snide remarks and complain about the rudeness of youths these days.

If Peter didn’t care so much for his life, he would have called him a grumpy grandpa.

“Did Mr. Stark tell you what upgrades he’s planned for Karen?” Peter asked.

“84 seconds.” Happy said.

“I’m sorry?”

“You managed to stay quiet for an entire 84 seconds, it’s your personal best.” Happy said. “Do you want to try for 100 seconds?”

“Happy, I-” Peter stammered, “was that? Did you just make a joke?”

“No.” Happy said. “I’m serious.”

“Oh, well in that case I should probably tell you that I lost interest in the ‘who can stay quiet the longest’ game when I was five.” Peter continued.

“So, your poor Aunt has been suffering for the last ten years?” Happy asked. “Poor woman deserves a medal.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Peter mumbled. That was a point he wouldn’t argue on.

“Hey, Happy?”

“Kid really?” Happy asked. “What could you possible have to ask now?”

“Well, I was thinking ma-”

Peter didn’t get to finish his question.

His Spidey-Sense rang out loud and clear, it screamed ‘danger’ in his mind, and it was ready for the danger to come before Peter had even realised something was wrong – his hands were automatically in the air, waiting for a blow to land.

Peter’s Spidey-Sense had always been a bit of a guessing game, when he was in a dangerous situation it was useful, when he was fighting an armed assailant he knew that it going off would mean that he was at risk of being stabbed or shot and he could move in time. If he was walking in a dark alley, it could mean that there was someone behind him, so he could turn around in time and they’d lose the element of surprise.

But sitting in the back seat of a car? There was no one following, no one with a knife, and Peter knew Happy had a gun but one quick glance at him showed his hands in the typical ten and two position on the steering wheel. Not that Happy would ever shoot him on purpose, not unless Peter was really, really annoying.

Peter saw the danger too late, his Spidey-Sense had warned him but it was pointless because as he looked out the window and saw the truck coming towards them, he realised there was nothing he could do.

The truck hit with a bone-trembling crash, Peter heard Happy take a sharp breath before cursing loudly and slamming his foot on the breaks. He wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t do anything, they’d already been hit.

Metal gave way, crumbling under the force of the truck and shards of glass rained down on Peter as the windows shattered.

Peter watched numbly as his backpack was tossed around on the backseat as the car was forced to the side because of the impact that had been delivered.  

He was pretty sure he was screaming, but he couldn’t focus on anything that was happening, there was too much noise and light and fear and pain.

Peter didn’t even realise he had been knocked out until he woke up, blinking slowly to remove something from his eyes. He was struggling to focus properly, everything seemed to be hazy and the lights were trailing like a glow stick being waved through the air by a child on a dark night.

He guessed that he hadn’t been out for very long as he was still in the car, strapped in to his seat, he could hear people outside walking around – emergency services must not have arrived yet, because they seemed cautious and unsure about how to proceed.

“Should we pull them out?”

“I don’t think you’re meant to move people with head injuries.”

“How do we know they have a head injury?”

“How do we know they don’t?”

“That kid looks in rough shape, he’s bleeding a lot.”

“I think he’s awake.”

Peter groaned, he assumed that he was the kid that they were talking about, was he bleeding? Where? Oh. He looked down and saw a large, twisted piece of metal protruding from his chest, that was where. As soon as Peter saw the metal, he felt the pain, it was burning and all consuming, he wanted to grit his teeth and be strong, but he couldn’t.

At the end of the day he was a kid, a kid with jagged metal sticking into his body and he couldn’t hold in the screams of pain.

He wanted to go home. He wanted his Aunt.

“Ah, Ha- Hap-py?” He asked between grunts and gasps of pain.

No answer.

“Happy, ow, ah, p-p-please, answer me.” Peter pleaded.

He tried his best to focus, to listen for Happy’s heartbeat but his own was pounding too fast to hear anything else past it. There was too much happening, too many people outside, the car was still creaking and groaning, there were sirens in the distance and Peter’s senses were unreliable when he was feeling so frantic and distracted.

He was just like any other person in that moment, he had no enhanced senses to offer him reassurances, he would just have to hope that Happy was alright until someone gave him a reason to believe otherwise.  

“Clear the way, let us through.”

Peter tried to relax a little as he heard the paramedics arrive, they would help Happy, they’d make sure he was alive, they had to, they had to.

“Kid?” Peter hadn’t realised that the car was on its side until he looked up and saw a paramedic peering through the side window which was now on top facing the overcast skies. “We’re going to get you out, alright, just hold tight.”

“N-n-no,” Peter stammered, “not me. H-Happy.”

“Happy?” the paramedic asked in confusion, obviously wondering whether Peter had hit his head during the accident, to be fair, maybe he had. A lot had happened and at some point, he’d lost consciousness.

“D-driver.” Peter tried to elaborate, oh god why couldn’t they just get it? Every word was hurting.

“Alright, Happy is the driver,” the paramedic said, “don’t worry, we have another team here helping him.”

Peter looked to the front to see that they were telling the truth, there was a paramedic leaning through the broken windscreen to check on Happy, how had he missed them? Were his senses really failing him so drastically?

“See, we’re helping him too, now we’re probably going to need to get the fire service to cut you out, but don’t worry they’re already here so it won’t take long, in the mean time I’m going to come down there and see what I can do to help you.”

Peter nodded, letting his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as he breathed through a spasm of pain caused by the movement of the car.

“What’s your name?” The paramedic asked.

“Peter.” He whispered, he was so tired, talking felt like too much energy.

“Alright Peter, now I’m coming down alright?”

He couldn’t bring himself to answer. He was so tired.

The exhaustion was heavy, and it seemed to weigh him down, maybe a nap would be the best thing for him, he would only close his eyes for a minute. It would be fine… just a minute. Someone was talking to him, but Peter was too busy falling asleep to care.

-

“Pete? Peter, come on Kiddo,” a familiar voice was determined to rouse Peter from his peaceful slumber, but he was just as determined to stay in the blissful land of sleep, “Peter, come on, wake up. Please.”

Whoever that was, they sure were persistent, it was mildly irritating.

“He frowned,” another voice chipped in, also familiar but Peter still couldn’t place who they were, “did you see that, he definitely frowned!”

“Peter? Can you hear us?”

“He’s moving his lips!”

“Open your eyes, Peter.”

Ugh! Peter complied, hoping that his irritation at being woken up was clear to see. Oh, it was May and Mr. Stark who had been talking, both of them standing over him and staring at him with expectant looks.

What were they waiting for?

“There he is,” May said softly, “you were beginning to worry us, sweetie.”

“Yeah, May over here was panicking like you wouldn’t believe.” Mr. Stark said, with a faint red hue across his cheeks, Peter was sure he could only see that thanks to his Spidey-Senses.

“Mhm,” May hummed, casting an unimpressed look at Mr. Stark, “I was the one panicking.”

“In my defence-”

“You have no defence,” May interrupted.

“I know, but a car accident?” Mr. Stark asked, Peter had the feeling that hadn’t been the first time he’d asked that question.

“A car accident?” Peter asked, trying to filter through hazy memories.

He couldn’t remember it properly, he could remember chatting to Ned and getting into the back of the Audi – Happy had been his usual grumpy self, but after that, everything was hazy and difficult to comprehend.

Happy.

“Wait,” Peter mumbled, interrupting whatever it had been that Mr. Stark was going to say, “is Happy alright?”

“Uh,” May faltered, looking to Mr. Stark for help. Peter’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, since when did May look to him for advice, what was going on?

“Happy was pretty badly hurt,” Mr. Stark said honestly, “he’s in surgery at the moment.”

“Surgery?” Peter asked.

“He’s strong.” Mr. Stark said, trying to reassure him but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept in a while. They both did.

“How long ago was the accident?” Peter asked.

“A few days, you’ve been in and out of it since then, but you haven’t been able to retain much,” May told him, as she ran a hand through his curls, “the doctors say it’s just because of a bad concussion, and it won’t be permanent.”

“So you’ve told me all of this before?” Peter asked, feeling unnerved.

“Just bits and pieces, this is the longest you’ve managed to keep your eyes open so far.” Mr. Stark said.

“That sounds exhausting,” Peter mumbled, screwing up his nose only to find that there was something shoved up it.

“Don’t pull at that.” May said, gently guiding his hand away, “it’s just something to give you a little extra oxygen and a tube to give you nutrition.”

“Why do I need oxygen?” Peter asked. “I was in a car crash.”

“You were pretty beat up from the accident,” May said calmly, too calmly, she was obviously trying her best not to cause him any worry, “there was a piece of- uh, a piece of metal that stabbed you.”

“Ok,” Peter said, hoping that he appeared calm enough for her to continue, how had he reacted to this in the past? Had he been told about it before? How much of this was actually news to him?  

“It pierced your lung and caused it to collapse,” May said, “they called it, uh, a pneumothorax.”

“Oh.” Peter said.

So… he’d had a collapsed lung, that wasn’t too bad, right? He’d heard about them before, sure, they were dangerous, but he was in the hospital and being cared for, surely that meant he was safe.

“You’re taking this better than last time?” Mr. Stark said, looking pleased with that fact.

“How did I take it last time?” Peter wondered.

“Ugh, there was some panicking, from you and me,” May admitted, “you were convinced that you were suffocating.”

“But,” Peter paused, feeling unsure of himself, “I’m not, right?”

“No, but you did lose a lot of blood, so you’ve had a few transfusions and you should be weaned off the oxygen soon.” May told him.

“It’s weird.” Peter mumbled.

“What is, sweetie?”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

Peter didn’t hear her reply, the sweet call of sleep was too much to resist, he fell into a peaceful slumber with the sound of May and Mr. Stark talking soothingly somewhere in the distance.

-

The next time Peter woke up, he was in darkness. His heart instantly jumped into action as he panicked and forgot where he was, the beeping from the monitor caused a dark mass to move from beside him.

“Hey, calm down, Underoos, it’s just me.” Mr. Stark. “You’re safe, you’re alright, it’s all ok.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter gasped, using the dim lights from some of the machines to focus on Mr. Stark’s face.

“Don’t apologise,” Mr. Stark said, quick to reassure him, “you’re in the hospital.”

“I know.” Peter said. “I remembered this time.”

“Oh, thank god.” Mr. Stark said, falling back against the chair in relief, Peter heard the small exhale of air from the force of hitting the backrest.

“I was just speaking to you and May?” Peter murmured, confused.

“You were, but you’re on some pretty hefty painkillers, Kiddo, you fell asleep for a few hours after that.” Mr. Stark told him.

“I don’t like feeling so tired.”

“It won’t be forever,” Mr. Stark said reassuringly, “in fact, your healing factor is doing amazing things for you right now. You’ll be home before you know it.”

That was right, Peter was Spider-Man, he had a healing factor that had probably saved his life. Happy, though, he didn’t.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter waited for the quiet hum to continue, “how is Happy doing?”

“He’s stable, he’s in the Intensive Care Unit, but they’re optimistic that he’ll be able to step down in the next day or two.” Mr. Stark said.

“Oh,” that was good, not that he was poorly enough to need the ICU, but that he was improving at least, “and May? Where is she?”

“She nipped home about an hour ago to grab a shower and some food, I promised to stay with you until she gets back.”

“Thank you.”

-

The next time Peter woke up, it was light, and the annoying tubing that was blowing dry air up his nostrils was gone. As was Mr. Stark. May had taken his place, curled up on an uncomfortable looking chair, with a book in one hand and a travel cup of coffee in the other – Peter could smell the faint hint of bitterness in the air, she was drinking coffee. That wasn’t like her, May said that coffee normally made her feel jittery.

“May?”

“Oh, sweetie, you’re awake,” she said, tossing her book aside and unfurling her legs so she could rush over to his side.

“This isn’t the hospital?” Peter was sure of that; he couldn’t smell the antiseptic in the air or hear the beeping of thousands of machines anymore.

“No, you’re stable enough that Tony managed to wrangle a transfer to the Med-Bay, although why they had to wait for you to be this stable is beyond me.” May muttered. “You have S.H.I.E.L.D.’s best doctors organising your care, they were looking after you in the hospital too because of your abilities, you could have been moved earlier.”

“I don’t need their best,” Peter mumbled, “I’m doing fine.”

May didn’t confirm or deny his statement, maybe she didn’t want to jinx anything or worry him, “do you want to try eating something?”

“Do they have jello?” Peter asked.

“Do they- of course they have jello, you do realise that this is Tony’s compound, right?” May asked with a teasing smile.

“Fair point,” Peter mumbled, blushing as May helped him sit up in the bed. Was he really so weak that he needed assistance to sit?

Ow.

“Too much?” May asked.

“No, it’s fine,” Peter lied, but he didn’t want her to overreact and lie him back down, he was hungry, “how long has it been since I’ve eaten?”

“A while, but they put that tube in your nose to make sure that you could still get some nutrients, because it just so happens that your metabolism means that you need quite a high intake.” May said. “Imagine my surprise at only hearing about this now.”

Oops.

“I, uh-”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to lecture you while you’re recovering.” May said, waving away his attempts to cover his ass. “Now, sit still, don’t do anything stupid, I’ll be back in a moment with your jello.”

“I never do anything st- well, not intentionally.”

-

“This is a bad idea,” Mr. Stark muttered as he pushed the wheelchair, “like, a really, really bad idea.”

“Shh, if you speak too loudly someone will catch us.” Peter said, scolding his mentor.

It had been two weeks since the accident, two weeks since one of the most difficult experiences of Peter’s life. It was, however, one of the best days Peter had had since the event. He’d been struggling a lot with pain and lethargy, every medical professional had told him that it was perfectly normal, and that he was lucky to have survived, but Peter was growing restless.

He supposed that it made sense to be taking a while to recover when he shouldn’t have made it out alive, but he was Spider-Man, it shouldn’t be taking so long.

He’d wanted to be discharged from the compound, May and Mr. Stark had wanted him to stay in bed, they’d compromised by waiting until May left for work and Mr. Stark smuggled Peter into a wheelchair and promised to take him to visit Happy.

“Maybe someone should catch us.” Mr. Stark muttered.

“I swear, if you’re planning to sabotage us…” Peter let the threat hang in the air.

“You’ll what?” Mr. Stark asked. “Throw your jello at me? Tell on me? Kid, you won’t do anything, and you don’t need to, I’m not sabotaging anything.”

“How is…” Peter paused. “How is Happy?”

“He’s doing well, considering everything,” Mr. Stark said quietly, “he’ll be glad to see you.”

Will he? Peter wondered, it’s my fault he got hurt, I was the one he was picking up from school.

Peter had been told the details of the crash; he knew that it was no fault of Happy’s. A drunk driver had run a red light. It had been that simple and yet, that complicated.

So, logically, there was no blame to be placed on Peter, but then, it was Peter’s fault Happy was in the car; he knew that Mr. Stark would argue with him if he voiced that belief, so he kept quiet, he wasn’t ready for any reassurances, nor did he deserve them.

“Alright, we’re just in here.” Mr. Stark said, as he pushed Peter into a dimly lit room.

Happy had suffered a bleed on the brain thanks to the accident, apparently, he was still getting severe migraines and they were triggered by harsh lights and loud noises.

“He’s sleeping,” Peter whispered, “should we come back later?”

“No.” Mr. Stark hadn’t been the one to answer that.

“Happy?” Peter asked quietly.

“Long time no see, Kid, you’re late.” Happy mumbled, Peter vaguely registered Mr. Stark stepping out to give them a moment.

“Late?” Peter asked, unable to stop the smile from appearing as he grabbed the wheels and pushed himself closer.

“Yeah, I was expecting your annoying face to appear days ago, I never thought I’d get more than 84 seconds of peace.”

“You missed me.” Peter realised.

“Now, don’t go putting words in my mouth,” Happy said, “I most definitely did not say that.”

“You did, you missed me,” Peter repeated, “that’s ok, I missed you too… I was, uh, really worried about you.”

“I was worried about you too, Kiddo, you alright? You don’t look yourself.” Happy said.

“I’m good, much better now than I was.” Peter said.

“Hmm.”

“Happy?” Peter asked, resisting the urge to lean forward and shake the man, “Happy? Uh, Mr. Stark!”

“What? Oh,” Mr. Stark had burst into the room when Peter had called, only to pause and look understandingly at him, “he’s just tired, Pete, he can’t stay awake for very long at the moment. Don’t worry, he’s just sleeping.”

“Oh,” Peter said simply, as he stared at Happy’s prone figure, “will he ever be back to normal?”

“Time will tell,” Mr. Stark said honestly, “the doctors seem optimistic, but they’re sure to let us know it’s a cautious optimism.”

“Can I go back to my room?” Peter asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Yeah, of course you can, Underoos.” Mr. Stark said gently, turning the chair to push Peter out the room.

Peter closed his eyes, he could still see Happy lying there, looking so still in the bed, so pale… so-

No.

He was alright, he had sassed Peter, he wouldn’t have done that if he was as bad as he looked. Peter hadn’t realised how much he missed that attitude, how much he missed bickering playfully with Happy.

He missed the older man, the guy who had become such a daily staple in his life. Had he taken his presence for granted? Was that why this had happened? As some sick cosmic way to tell Peter he needed to appreciate those in his life more? Peter didn’t know, maybe there was no reason for any of it to happen, maybe sometimes shitty things just occurred.

Peter knew he should be focusing his questions on the drunk driver – the guy who had managed to walk away with a few lacerations and a broken arm, the man who was at fault had suffered the least. Was Peter a bad person for wishing that guy had been hurt more? Not so much that he had died, but just enough so that he would understand what he’d done to Peter and Happy. Maybe he was, maybe he was too vindictive to be Spider-Man.

“There’s a lot of thinking going on in that head of yours.” Mr. Stark said as he pushed Peter, “care to share?”

Peter shrugged, changing the subject, “this isn’t the way to my room, where are we going?”

“I figured you could see the common area before going back to bed, I stocked that fridge with jello too,” Mr. Stark murmured.

“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t really want to run into the Avengers, not today.” Peter said, feeling guilty for not being excited about Mr. Stark’s kind gesture.

“You won’t, they’re all out on a mission.” Mr. Stark reassured him. “The only person you might bump into is Rhodey, and even then, that’s a slim possibility, he’s meant to be in the gym doing his physiotherapy.”

“Alright then,” Peter said quietly. That wasn’t so bad – he liked Mr. Rhodes, he’d met him a few times and he’d always met Mr. Stark’s chaotic energy with his own deceivingly calm one, they were funny to see together, “as long as there’s lime jello.”

“You’re a really weird kid.” Mr. Stark said.

“So you keep saying.”

“Who even likes lime jello?”

“I do,” Peter said with a pout.

Mr. Stark wheeled him into the common area, it was large and empty – just as promised.

“So,” Mr. Stark said, clicking the breaks on so he could go rootle about in the fridge, “what’s on your mind?”

Peter shrugged, staring at the tabletop until a green pot of jello slid in front of him, followed by a shiny metal spoon.

“Eat up, there’s plenty more where that one came from,” Mr. Stark said, “I’m telling you no one likes lime jello.”

“Well, I do,” Peter mumbled, peeling away the foil lid and crumpling it in a fist, “it’s the best flavour and it’s even better that no one else likes it because then I get it all to myself.”

“Can’t argue with that logic.” Mr, Stark said, taking a seat opposite Peter with his own pot of red Jello – so Mr. Stark was a strawberry guy, that figured.

“What are you trying to do?” Peter asked, narrowing his eyes at his mentor.

“What do you remember from the car accident?” Mr. Stark asked.

“Nothing.” Peter lied.

“Hmm, nope, I’m not buying that,” Mr. Stark said, “you’ve been having nightmares, you keep zoning out, you’re refusing to talk about anything to do with it… you remember.”

“Did May put you up to this?” Peter asked as he slurped jello off the spoon, trying to distract himself from what Mr. Stark was asking about.

Smoke… he could smell smoke all around him, and the sticky odour of engine oil mixing in with something metallic and…oh. Blood. Someone was bleeding, was it him? or Happy? Was Happy even alive? Was Peter?

“-concerned, like me, Underoos,” Peter blinked and tried to focus on Mr. Stark’s words rather than the memories of that afternoon, “we want to help you, we want to do whatever it takes to make you feel better.”

“Mr. Stark, I had a collapsed lung, numerous broken bones, contusions, lacerations, a concussion that caused me to lose days from my memories, and I needed multiple blood transfusions.” Peter said. “I get you guys want to make me feel better, but I almost died, there’s a good chance I would have without my Spider-Man abilities.”

“So, you feel like you shouldn’t be alive?” Mr. Stark asked.

“No…well, kinda, not like I wish I’d died or anything,” Peter was quick to reassure him, “just, if I was meant to die, didn’t I cheat?”

“Cheat?”

“Yeah, like I should be in just as bad shape as Happy is, but because of my abilities I’m sitting in the common area eating jello with you while Happy can barely stay awake for a five minute conversation. It feels unfair, he should be the one sitting here with you.”

“You want to swap places?” Mr. Stark asked, but Peter could tell he didn’t expect an answer. “Kiddo, you can’t think like that.”

“Why not? Don’t you want the same thing?” Peter wondered.

“Of course not!” Mr. Stark’s voice was loud and verging on shouting, it hurt Peter’s still tender brain. “I don’t want either of you to be in Happy’s position, and just because you can heal, doesn’t mean that you aren’t affected by the crash.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry for shouting, kid, but you’re not, you’re wishing you could swap with Happy.” Mr. Stark said. “You’re wishing for further injuries because you feel some sort of misguided guilt over what happened.”

“It’s not misguided!” Peter snapped, dropping his spoon on the desk with a clatter.

“What do you mean?” Mr. Stark asked gently, too gently, Peter broke.

“Happy should have never been there, I shouldn’t have been ten minutes late, I could have walked or got a bus or a taxi or swung over, I could hav-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Mr. Stark interrupted. “Slow down, take a deep breath.”

Peter copied Mr. Stark’s exaggerated deep breaths, mimicking the man like he used to as a kid – back when Ben would applaud him for wearing one of his old suit jackets that hung down to Peter’s ankles and tripped him up as he paced back and forth in front of the TV quoting Tony Stark’s clean energy speeches.

“Peter…kiddo…you can’t tell me you think this was your fault?”

“Why not?” Peter asked numbly. “It was.”

“No, it wasn’t, it was George Hendersen’s fault. No one else’s.”

Huh, George Hendersen. It was such a normal name, the kind that a father, brother, son would have. Peter wondered how many people were left confused and pained over his actions? How many members of his family were trying to deal with the knowledge that he had gotten behind the wheel of his car, drunk?

“Why did he do it?” Peter asked, tears falling without his permission.

“Oh, kid,” Mr. Stark said, abandoning his red jello in favour of kneeling beside Peter’s wheelchair, “look at me-” he paused, waiting for Peter to comply, “I don’t know. I wish I did, I really do. I wish I could give you an answer that would make all the pain and fear make sense, but I don’t have anything to tell you.”

“I hate him.” Peter said, the words pouring out without any bite thanks to the sobs that escaped with them. “Is that wrong of me?”

“No,” Mr. Stark said, “hate is a real strong emotion, and my therapist would probably say it’s dangerous to hold onto hate, but personally I hate him too.”

“I wish he hadn’t done it.”

“Me too, kiddo, me too.” Mr. Stark said quietly, before holding his arms open, “come here.”

Peter fell into them easily, breathing in the familiar scent of cologne and grease, Mr. Stark wouldn’t let George Hendersen hurt him or Happy again.

-

“What do you mean he got community service?”

Peter’s head jumped off the pillow with a protesting throb at the shriek that seemed to pierce through his walls and door.

“May, calm down,” Mr. Stark’s voice was quieter, he was trying not to wake Peter, not that it mattered now, “you know I’m going to get Pepper and my best team of lawyers on the case.”

“How the fuck could this happen?” May asked, only a fraction quieter.

“He’s rich, white, and has connections.”

“He nearly killed two innocent people!”

Peter carefully slipped his legs out of bed, toeing on his slippers and inching towards the door.

“He will pay, even if it kills me, I’ll make sure that he pays for what he did to Pete and Hap.”

Peter opened the door, alerting May and Mr. Stark to the fact that he was awake. They cast glances at each other meaningfully before their expressions smoothed out, they were planning to keep it from him.

Did they think that he couldn’t handle this? That he would break down at the thought of his almost murderer walking about normally? His only punishment being that he was losing his free time to help clean the streets of New York or something. Would they even suggest rehab?

“Hey, morning Peter, I thought I’d drop by on my way to work,” May said with her familiar, easy smile.

“Look at you, up on your own!” Mr. Stark said looking proud. “How do you feel?”

“My leg aches a little, where the break was, but otherwise I’m alright,” Peter mumbled, looking between the two of them, come on, come clean and tell me.

“Well, sit yourself down, I’m making breakfast and you can take your painkillers.” Mr. Stark said.

“You’re making breakfast? You?” Peter asked as he hesitantly took a seat at the table.

“Hey!” Mr. Stark protested, flicking some pancake batter Peter’s way. It landed on his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m a great cook. Back when the Avengers were an actual team, me, Cap and Bruce would make huge meals. We could have fed an army; trust me Cap would have known.”

“Do you miss those days?” Peter asked, taking a sip of the glass of milk that was placed in front of him; Mr. Stark didn’t let him drink coffee. Apparently, he had his hands full enough without a caffeinated Spider-Kid sticking to his ceiling, Peter hadn’t mentioned that he had never been on the ceiling in the Compound…at least not that Mr. Stark had seen.

“Sometimes,” Mr. Stark replied with a shrug, “but I prefer these days more.”

May smiled, seemingly understanding whatever Mr. Stark had meant by that.

“You’re weird.” Peter declared, wiping the milk moustache away with the back of pyjama top’s sleeve.

“Peter!” May scolded in exasperation. “There’s a stack of napkins right there.”

“Oh, uh, sorry.”

Peter bluffed his way through breakfast and made his excuses to leave and shower as soon as he thought he would get away with it – too soon and they may have realised that he had been listening to their conversation.

“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Peter asked quietly.

“Yes, Peter?”

“Uh, if I asked you to look someone up, would you tell on me?” Peter asked, feeling like a little kid trying to convince an older sibling not to tattle to mom.

“It depends on who you want me to look up and what information you would like to know about them.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.

“Oh, ok, so theoretically if I asked you to look up someone called George Hendersen, would you tell MR. Stark about that?” Peter asked.

“Yes, George Kieran Hendersen is on the list of people you are not allowed access to, and should you request it I will be forced to send an alert to Mr. Stark’s cell.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him.

“You haven’t though, right?” Peter asked quickly. “I wasn’t asking you to actually do it, I said ‘theoretically’.”

“Correct, the alert has not yet been sent.”

“Great, uh, thanks F.R.I.”

“No problem.”

Peter groaned and shoved his face in his pillow, of course Mr. Stark would put safeguard in place, this was the man who had created the baby monitor and training wheels protocols.

He knew Peter, but… he didn’t know Peter’s friends.

Peter pulled out his phone, typing out a quick text to his best friend:

‘Hey Ned, I need you to do me a favour and look up a George Kieran Hendersen pls’

Send.

Ned was probably at school, but that didn’t stop him from replying in a matter of seconds. Sorry dude, Mr. Stark already said I couldn’t.

Well, fuck…

Peter could have screamed into his pillow.

-

Blood. There was blood everywhere, it was surrounding Peter, preparing to drown him and he couldn’t breathe. He was covered in the thick dark red liquid. It filled every gap and stained everything around him.

He was in the car, the Audi, but it didn’t look like it normally did. The silver paintwork was coated in the sickening red liquid, and the metal frame was twisted and jagged; it looked sharp and ready to bite Peter.

“Happy, we need to stop, this is wrong.” Peter said, from his place in the back seat.

Happy couldn’t hear him.

The glass shattered.

“Happy, we need to stop, something bad is going to happen.” Peter continued.

He still couldn’t hear Peter, he needed to get closer, Peter pushed the button to release his seatbelt but it nothing happened. He jammed his finger against it repeatedly, trying his hardest to free himself from the strangling hold it had on him.

“Happy, please, stop the car, he’s going to hit us.” Peter begged. “Please! Stop! Stop the car! Stop the c-”

“-eter! Peter! Come on kiddo, that’s it, come on,” Mr. Stark’s voice pulled him from the blood filled, twisted car.

“Misser Star’?” Peter slurred in confusion, before the panic brought him back to consciousness faster. “Blood, I’m covered in blood, and I can’t move.”

“There’s no blood kiddo.”

“No blood?” Peter mumbled out the question in confusion, how was that possible? He could feel it, it was everywhere. He was covered in it.

“No blood.” Mr. Stark confirmed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. can you turn the lights up please?”

Peter blinked against the harsh light but allowed Mr. Stark to pull him up into a sitting position, still leaning heavily against the older man.

“Look, kiddo, no blood.” Mr. Stark confirmed.

He was right. “But it was so real?” Peter marvelled, running a hand over his t-shirt, trying to find traces of the red liquid that he had been so convinced was there.

“Nightmares will do that to you, kiddo.”

“It wasn’t a nightmare.” Peter mumbled.

“No?” Mr. Stark asked, “what would you call it then?”

“I uh, I don’t know,” Peter mumbled. “I’m fine though, I’m completely fine.”

“Come on,” Mr. Stark said, standing up and holding out a hand to pull Peter up off the bed.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked.

“Well, me and Happy were having hot cocoa and I figure you’d benefit from joining us.” Mr. Stark said.

“You guys are having hot cocoa?” Peter asked in confusion.

“He’s still getting migraines and I’m meant to be caffeine free after 6pm.” Mr. Stark said with a shrug.

Happy had been improving, slowly but surely, it had been a month since the accident and Peter was physically all better, but he refused to leave the compound until he knew that Happy was better. Thankfully, Mr. Stark had been able to use his influence to organise online classes for Peter to complete the year and May had understood.

Peter was lucky.

Happy was lucky.

So why wasn’t it good enough? Why was he still faced with the nightmares and the memories? Why did he flinch when a car honked its horn? Why did he wish he had taken Happy’s place? Why did he wish Hendersen could feel the same pain they had felt?

“It’s a bit late for you to be up.” Happy commented as Peter sat opposite him, Peter followed his gaze to the clock – 01:21 – huh, maybe it was a little late.

“One hot cocoa coming right up, peppermint free for the spider.” Mr. Stark announced as he rummaged in the fridge for milk.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Peter lied to Happy.

“Yes, you could,” Happy corrected, “you just couldn’t forget.”

“Can you?” Peter asked.

Maybe 1am was the time to be honest, maybe when the safety of daylight was gone, the night-time allowed them to be vulnerable with each other.

“No.” Happy said gruffly. “Honestly, I can’t forget any of it, and I’ll never stop feeling sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Peter asked, frowning to himself.

“For not stopping in time.” Happy said.

“The light was green; you were right to go.” Peter said, staring at Mr. Stark’s back as he did so, he couldn’t meet Happy’s gaze. He couldn’t look him in the eye while knowing that he was the reason that the accident had happened.

“I saw the truck coming.” Happy said. “I just couldn’t do anything in time, I couldn’t stop quick enough or swerve out of the way. I could have killed you kid, because I couldn’t do anything other than panic.”

“Happy…” Peter paused, trying to work through everything that he’d just heard. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard you say, and you told me you hate froyo.”

“Yeah, me and Hap have been trying to work through his misguided guilt over the accident.” Mr. stark said, placing a mug in front of Peter.

“It’s not misguided.”

“You’re right, it’s completely unwarranted.” Mr. Stark said.

Wait. What?

“Happy, no,” Peter interrupted, “you don’t need to feel guilty, none of this was your fault. It was mine. I should have been on time after Decathlon practice, I should have been ten minutes earlier and then we wouldn’t have been at that intersection at the same time as Hendersen, I should have gotten to the tower some other way. You are Mr. Stark’s head of security; you shouldn’t be chasing me around the city or chauffeuring me back and forth between here and Queens.”

“Kid, Happy is the only one I would trust with you.” Mr. Stark said. “Both of you need to get off your self-sacrificial high horses and accept that the only person who should be taking any blame for this is the guy who decided to drive whilst drunk.”

“Tony told me you were trying to look him up.” Happy said quietly.

Peter’s gaze shot to Mr. Stark who was purposefully looking at the countertop, he knew? Why hadn’t he said anything?

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. you’re a traitor.” Peter mumbled.

“I did not tell Mr. Stark about your theoretical enquiry.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him.

“You didn’t?”

“No, she didn’t, it was Ned.” Mr. Stark said.

“Ned?” Peter asked, betrayed by his own best friend.

“Yeah, he’s worried about you, you’ve been dodging his calls, ignoring his texts and then you randomly messaged him asking him to trace the person who hit you and Happy.” Mr. Stark said. “I think he’s pretty right to be worried.”

“I’m fine.” Peter said.

“No, you’re not.” Mr. Stark interrupted.

“I am.”

“You’re not,” Happy said, “and I know, because I’m not either.”

“You- you’re not?” Peter asked.

“Not at all, Kiddo.”

-

Two long, difficult months had passed since the accident. Peter was doing fine, he really was, despite what Happy and Mr. Stark said. He was going out as Spider-Man for a couple of hours each evening, he was meeting his friends once or twice a week and he was planning to ask MJ on a date.

He was fine.

Sure, he was still having nightmares, he refused to get in a car, and he would freak out at the sight of blood – which in retrospect made being Spider-Man slightly more difficult, but he was doing fine.

He didn’t really understand why he was still having so many ‘problems’.

He was alive.

He should be grateful for that; he knew that Happy was. Happy was even driving around the Compound, he wasn’t quite at the point where he could drive the streets of New York, but he was certainly doing well within private grounds.

May had brought up the subject of him moving back into the apartment a few times, and Peter wanted to, he really did, but every time he ventured into the city there were cars everywhere. They were loud, their tyres would screech, and horns would blare. Even though Peter wasn’t in them, he was scared.

He knew he was worrying everyone.

He was worrying himself.

“Peter, this isn’t your normal patrol area.” Karen said, interrupting Peter’s thoughts.

“I know, K, I just have something to do here,” Peter mumbled, as he scaled a building, eyes fixed on the balcony that he remembered from his computer screen, “it won’t take long.”

“Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark to your detour?”

“What? No! why would I want that?” Peter asked, irritation staining his tone. Why was everyone so ready to snitch on him?

“Just in case back up was required.” Karen said. “But your wishes have been noted.”

“Thanks, I promise, we’ll be back to our normal patrols soon.”

By normal – peter did not mean normal at all – he meant a short patrol in a low traffic area of town. He wasn’t ready to handle car accidents and hijackings just yet. Soon, but not right now.

The door to the balcony was slightly open, obviously the man inside hadn’t expected anyone to climb up to the seventh floor, after all, why would he?

“No, no, no, Jennifer, stop, think about this.” A man pleaded, he sounded so normal.

“I can’t do this anymore George,” Jennifer said, “I just can’t, you don’t even have any remorse.”

“I have plenty of remorse!” George shouted. Peter flinched. “I’m not allowed to drive anymore, my job laid me off, you and the kids have been so distant lately and that fucker, Stark, is still coming for me.”

“They’re all consequences.” Jennifer said. “That’s not remorse for your actions.”

“What more do you want?”

“I want you to look fucking sorry, that kid you hit? Stark’s intern? He’s the same age as your daughter.”

“I know that!”

“Why don’t you care?”

“He’s fine, he’s got Stark’s money, he won’t even care at this point.”

“This is about money?”

“No, it’s about you being a fucking judgemental bitch when you’ve made mistakes.” George shouted.

“Yeah, my biggest one was marrying you!”

SLAM

Huh, maybe Hendersen wasn’t as happy as Peter had thought, but still, he wasn’t as guilty as he’d hoped. He didn’t even seem to care that he was drunk driving, he only cared that he had been caught.

“Hey, Karen?” Peter whispered.

“I’m here.”

“Can you tell Mr. Stark that I’ll be home early tonight?” Peter asked.

“Sure thing.”

Peter had meant to confront Hendersen, to shout at him and tell him how much his actions had hurt Peter and his family, but now it seemed pointless. If Hendersen’s wife wasn’t getting through to him, why would he care what Peter had to say? Why would he care that Peter was still traumatised and scared? He wouldn’t.

Peter had heard the cocky edge to his voice, he knew that nothing he said would break through. It was pointless.

But peter wanted to be better.

Thwip

Thwip

He wanted to be the old Peter, the one who had carelessly thrown his backpack in the car and jumped in behind it. The one who knew accidents happened but never thought that any would happen to him.

Nobody ever does, Peter thought bitterly, as he ran out of trees to swing from and resorted to trudging the last few miles to the Compound.

“Hey, Pete,” a metallic voice said from beside him causing him to jump nearly a mile out of his skin, why hadn’t he heard him approach? Was he that off his game?

“Mr. Stark.”

“Karen said you’d be early.” Mr. Stark said, the suit retracting so he could walk beside Peter.

“Yeah, I told her to.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mr. Stark asked.

Did he?

Not really.

Yes.

“I went to Hendersen’s apartment.” Peter admitted. He heard Mr. Stark’s sharp inhale, but was grateful that he wasn’t interrupting, instead he was letting Peter talk. “I know I shouldn’t have. It was stupid.”

Peter pulled his mask off, he was on the Compound grounds, there wouldn’t be anyone going about to see him.

“It was.” Mr. Stark agreed.

“I didn’t speak to him.” Peter said. “I just stood outside; he was arguing with his wife.”

He has a wife, and kids, he’s such an ordinary man.

“Did it help?”

“No.” Peter said simply. “I want to hate him. I wanted to talk to him and make him hurt as much as I did, but then I heard him talking to his wife and I don’t know anymore. I don’t think that any amount of talking would help. He was a bad guy.”

“It’s not fair.” Mr. Stark said.

“I don’t know what I wanted.” Peter admitted. “I guess I’m just fed up of feeling like this.”

“Scared?”

“Always.” Peter mumbled. “It was a car accident, people have them all the time, why can’t I just get over it?”

“because you’re a kid, and it was scary and it’s not something you’re going to be able to forget about quickly.” Mr. Stark said.

“I should be stronger.”

“You’re plenty strong.” Mr. Stark said. “You’re the strongest kid I know, in fact you’re stronger than most adults.”

“But-”

“No buts on this on, Underoos.” Mr. Stark said.

“Aren’t I making your life harder by being here though?”

“Not in the slightest, I love having you here, just ask Pepper and May.” Mr. Stark said. “I’d keep you if I could.”

“I’d stay if I could.” Peter admitted. “I’m scared to go back to May’s.”

“Have you thought anymore on my offer of therapy?” Mr. Stark asked.

“I have…” Peter said, hesitating, he didn’t want to take Mr. Stark’s money, but… “I think I want to go for it.”

“I’ll support you every step of the way, Kiddo.” Mr. Stark promised.

“I know.” Peter said. “I heard something else at Hendersen’s… he said you were going after him?”

“Damn right I am,” Mr. Stark said, ruffling Peter’s hair, “he hurt one of my closest friends and my kid.”

[minah-delacroix]

At any price (Part VI)

Universe: Dynasty AU

Characters: Minah and Tyler

Word count: 1,7 k

Blame someone

“You can’t punish the guy for trying to move on” Tyler grunted as he followed Minah through the driveway of Delacroix Manor, lined up with luxury cars and clusters of chauffeurs conversing and smoking behind them. The woman could feel Tyler’s eyes boring holes in the back of her head, but she was too focused on the obnoxious feeling of the cool December air hitting her exposed skin to care “I don’t even know why you’re acting up” he continued, making Minah momentarily stop and look over her shoulder with a frown “You weren’t even interested in Sungjae when you had him wrapped around your finger” Minah rolled eyes and continued walking, heels clicking on the pavement. “That’s why I introduced him to Ashleigh”

Minah stopped abruptly, Tyler’s words causing her to look at him skeptically for the briefest moment and then huff furious.

“Wait, you introduced them?” Minah made a pause, thinking to herself before putting the pieces together “That night at the club-” she scoffed free of any amusement “So this is all your fucking fault!” She spat, ignoring what seemed to be hurt flashing in Tyler’s eyes. Minah’s first instinct was to slap him for sabotaging her relationship and meddling in her personal life, but she eventually took notice of her surroundings and decided that she needed to act like a Delacroix.

“If you have to blame someone, then yeah, it is my fault,” Tyler said impatiently “I was just trying to push him away”

“What do you have against Sungjae?” Minah’s voice came as a cross between disbelief and rage

“For fuck’s sake, Minah, I’m talking about you!” Tyler made an exasperated gesture and massaged his forehead with a hand, but Minah still looked puzzled so he gave her a look that almost made her feel like the dumbest person on Earth. “I love you” he finally confessed.

It took Minah a minute to process Tyler’s words. Of course, she’d known he liked her since they were two careless teenagers attending school in some remote place in Switzerland, but she’d always thought it was some sort of silly infatuation. At most, she represented a challenge for the irresistible Tyler Lee. ‘Love’ was a heavy word. Especially when Minah had the clear remembrance of Tara suspecting her brother was secretly seeing someone. Among the evidence Tara had gathered, there were several family plans and work meetings canceled, receipts for expensive luxury items, and intriguing visits to exotic places like the Bahamas, Saint Tropez, and Singapore. Minah didn’t really give it too much thought before, but there was something off about this sudden confession. Or at least Minah desperately wanted something to be off because otherwise, things were about to become awfully complicated for her. For all of them.

“But you’re seeing someone” Minah tried to reason, but the genuinely surprised expression on Tyler’s face made her falter. “Tara said you were. The trips to the Bahamas and Singapore-“ she trailed off. Thinking about the time Tyler canceled an important appointment at the very last minute and disappeared mysteriously only for him to show up two days later looking like he’d been partying in L.A. or gambling in Las Vegas.

“Since being unavailable seems to be the only way to get your attention, then yeah, I was with someone” Tyler conceded, making a near helpless gesture with the hands “And she was hot. Very.” He blurted, looking as though as he couldn’t believe he’d pronounce those words “But she wasn’t you, Minah. She was not the girl I’ve been madly in love with since I was a kid”

______

The ride to Lee Manor was painfully quiet and awkward. Minah’s brain replayed Tyler’s confession over and over and over as though trying to dissect it apart, trying to find a crack where probably there was none.

She recalled being fifteen when she first met Tyler. He was a year older, captain of the polo team, and had girls practically eating out of the palm of his hand. He’d started to pursue her from the moment he saw her —one of the reasons she never took him seriously—, then Maude Olivier came into the picture and dated Tyler for the rest of their high school years. There was nothing too memorable about their history, except the wild parties and follies of youth. Though now that she gave it some thought, Maude’s hatred for Minah had always felt a bit too personal to be downplayed as a simple family feud between the Olivier’s and Delacroix’s.

Tyler’s confession was definitely a turning point for them. Whatever Minah chose to do afterward it was meant to affect greatly her friendship and business with Tyler and probably Tara as well.

However, there was something she knew needed to be done first.

Minah typed two quick messages.

From: Minah Delacroix

To: Suho Kwon

So I could be wrong, but there are

two people stuck on the roof. 

So maybe you can help them out if 

you’re feeling in the holiday spirit. 

I know I am 😏

From: Minah Delacroix

To: Mr. Rausing (CEO of IN-Eco Corp)

I visited Ashleigh at work and I heard 

you’re having problems financing 

your cotton farming project in Peru. 

Thought it over and I am willing to help.

Use me

“I knew you’d be here burning the midnight oil” Later the same night, Minah walked into Tyler’s study room. She found him sitting in front of his computer dressed in his signature dark blue silk pajamas with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair didn’t look as nearly as immaculate as it did in the party and he’d put on his Gucci reading glasses. He looked so different from the collected and perfectly refined man he schooled himself to be on the daily that for a second Minah hesitated before walking further into his office. 

“I need to work harder if I have to keep up with you” Tyler hurried to close his laptop and when he did Minah realized there was a half-empty 1k bottle of scotch on the desk with a Baccarat tumbler next to it. There was also a book that looked suspiciously like their high-school yearbook. Tyler covered it up placing that morning’s newspaper on top of it. “What do you need Minah?” He asked, jaw visibly clenching. 

“I just came to say I’m sorry” Minah could feel herself sinking in size as Tyler’s eyebrows furrowed, looking at her as though he’s trying to bit down his emotions. Minah inhaled deeply and then gave a few steps toward the window. She saw an Aston Martin pull up the driveway of the manor and thought she could recognize Daniel sitting in the passenger’s seat. “I don’t know why I brought you up to that roof” Minah didn’t dare to look at Tyler so instead she observed Daniel making out with the man in the Aston Martin until she heard the sound of Tyler’s Antonio Citterio highback chair and noticed him approach slowly. 

“I do,” he said with a sour smirk “You were trying to get over that assistant”  Though his voice was calm, Minah could recognize spite lacing Tyler’s words “Only that’s been harder than you thought, so you were using me” his expression tight with a seriousness Minah couldn’t quite decode if it was a product of anger or disappointment. Both probably. 

Minah looked down, feeling the guilt overtake her. She played with the hem of her ruffled georgette pajamas simply because she couldn’t even look at Tyler. She was perfectly aware that she’d done nothing but take and take from him in a never-ending succession of selfish acts. She did the same with Sungjae and ended up pushing him away forever. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Tyler too. “I-“ Minah attempted to mutter some sort of half-assed apology, but the words died in her throat. 

“So, use me,” Tyler said, confidently coming forward. The golden frame of his glasses glowed under the dim light coming from the crystal chandeliers, briefly distracting Minah from her plain confusion. When she came back to her senses she noticed Tyler stood in front of her. 

“What?” The tension between them was thick, but Minah still managed to keep her composure, though the way Tyler’s eyes darkened caused Minah to gulp almost imperceptibly

“You were only with that guy because it was easy for you” Tyler’s eyes looked right into Minah’s “Convenient” he added “You don’t have time for a real relationship because you’re too busy conquering the world” Minah deliberately took a step forth, then they were only inches away from each other. “Where else could you find someone with the same schedule?” He rolled eyes at the same time his hand brushed against the skin of her thigh “But you know? I could fit you in” Tyler’s expression shifted, as he moved behind Minah, his breath on the back of her neck “If you fit me in” 

Minah was about to respond with some witty remark, but she gasped when the pads of Tyler’s fingers came in contact with her neck and gently moved her hair onto one shoulder. Minah pivoted on her heels to face him but was taken aback when she realized she practically threw herself into his arms. They were closer than she had anticipated. “Are you possibly suggesting you want to be my rebound?” She managed to conceal her surprise and went on

“Isn’t that why you’re here so late?” Tyler raised a brow.

Minah chuckled and shook her head, there was something particularly annoying about the high regard Tyler had of himself, but truth to be told, he wasn’t entirely mistaken. As a matter of fact, Minah knew that something was bound to happen if she stepped into Tyler’s study room. And she still went to look for him. Nevertheless, she hopelessly tried to find an excuse “But we’ve agreed to keep this strictly business-” 

“And we’re at work, aren’t we?” A soft chuckle escaped Tyler’s lips before he closed the gap separating him from Minah and crashed his lips against hers in a flurry of desperation. 

Before any of them noticed or did anything to stop each other, Minah was lying half-naked on Tyler’s presidential desk, his mouth gliding a path down her body.

...

[queencatherynerhys]

Stuck With You - White Collar Story

Prologue

Summary: Neal Caffrey had met his fair share of interesting women over the years. Once or twice he thought he had known what love meant. But he learned what being in love was like when he met her. Now he must face a future without her. How will he survive?

A/N: I know I haven’t been non-existent in Tumblr world and TRR fandom. I’ve been working on this story for a while. I was looking through fanfiction stories and realized there's never really been a Neal/Female OC angst story that caught my eye. I just don't know why, so I decided to write one of my own.

 The character's voices might be a little different than you've come to know if you’ve watched the amazing show. If not, I highly recommend it. White Collar is one to binge through these uncertain times we live in. I’ve rewatched it several times now. 

I apologize for any errors. I feel like I didn't capture it very well. But please leave a like or better yet a comment if you like it and I will post the next chapter.

Disclaimer: Characters mostly belong to Jeff Eastin. OCs and the plot concept are mine. 

Peter was in his car heading towards his home to have a quick lunch with his wife. He didn't normally do it since he's always so busy with a case, but he found himself with a rare opportunity of nothing to do for a couple of hours since he delegated all that needed to be taken care of to Neal, Diana, and Jones. He turned on the police scanner in his car. He didn't need to listen to it because he normally doesn't respond to the calls, but he uses it anyway to get an idea of which road to avoid in the case there was traffic accident. He didn't expect the call that came next.

The female voice informed nearby officers to respond on a gunshot female victim on the corner of 2nd Ave. and East 17th street. Peter crinkled his brow upon hearing the street corner. Why does that sound and seem familiar? He thought to himself. Isn't that where Stuyvesant Park is? Stuyvesant Park…that's where she's supposed to meet the buyer…it can't be…he thought as he connected the dots. He immediately turned on his siren. Better to be safe than sorry, right? What's the harm in making sure it's not her on the radio? He thought as he pushed on the accelerator to drive faster. He pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and called Neal and told him to meet him where on that street corner. He didn't give him a chance to ask what it was about before he hung up and concentrated on getting to his destination fast.

Flashing blue and red lights shone in the distance. Firefighters and EMT rushed about to attend to the emergency while policemen secured the area. Onlookers and bystanders paused from their daily routine to watch the commotion unfolding in front of them. Some of them were whispering to each other. Others had a look of misery and sadness as if knowing that the grim reaper had come to collect another soul.

Peter hurriedly arrived on the scene after being alerted in his radio about the gunshot victim. He flashed his badge to the policeman guarding the yellow tape. He stood aside and lifted the caution strip to let the special agent inside.

Peter's worse scenario was confirmed when he saw that it was her that was lying and bleeding on the ground. He watched with a worried face as the medical team encircled her. He saw as her eyes fluttered weakly towards him. She tried to lift her hand and beckon him.

"Ma'am try to relax, please," one of the EMT workers said.

"Peter," she ignored the advice and groans as she coughed up a bit of blood.

Peter knelt by her and held her reaching hand for comfort and support. He was not one to be squeamish around blood, but how was it possible to have so much around her? Was it his imagination? His guilt? It looked as if she was covered entirely in a pool of red. So bright and accusing that it was all he could see.

"Kell…it's Keller…" she warned. Peter's face fell and became red with anger as he heard what she said. He looked down and shook his head with disbelief as he pursed his lips The bastard was back in his city. He still hadn't forgotten what he did to Elizabeth, and now he'd come after one of their own again. But he couldn't worry about the dastardly criminal right now, his attention needed to be on the young woman in front of him fighting for her life. He saw her open her mouth to say something, but just groaned and coughed up more blood.

"Ryne, save your energy," he pleaded.

"One more thing…Tell Neal…I'm sorry…and that…that I love him…please, Peter…promise me…" she whispered before her fearful, begging eyes closed. He felt her grip weaken. Her breathing became more shallow. The medical team tried to hide their panic looks. They worked even faster to prep her for transport to the nearest hospital. Even though, she was unconscious Peter still felt the need to reply to her wish.

"I promise, Ryne, but you're going to be ok. You're going to be able to say those things to Neal, alright," he told her with feigned encouragement because he didn't know if she really would be able to. He didn't know if she heard him, but he hoped she did. Her wounds looked ghastly. He noticed that it looked like she suffered two gunshot wounds, one on the abdomen and the other on the chest.

The EMTs shooed Peter away so they could rush Ryne to the hospital. He went back and stood to the side trying to manage the shock and the gravity of the situation she was under. Ryne was able to tell him who shot her, but he was more worried about what Neal would do once he found out. Peter glanced at his hands and saw that her blood was smeared all over it. He realized that she was lying on the sidewalk slowly slipping because of him. It was his fault.

At the other side of the block, Neal rounded off the corner casually strolling where Peter told him to meet immediately. Even though his friend sounded rushed on the phone, he didn't bother walking faster as he thought it was just another break on the case they were currently working on. A conman was never late, everyone else was simply early.

Neal's eyes were immediately bombarded by the blinding, flashing lights of the emergency and police vehicles. He saw Peter exit his black government car and rushed to where the commotion was happening. He decided to pick up his pace then as he still had a bit of ways to go to reach the street corner, and now he had to fight the increasing throng of bystanders trying to make their way to the site to catch a glimpse of what was going on.

He saw Peter kneel and hold a woman's hand. Neal tried to look around the growing crowd and immediately stopped in his track when he saw the face of the woman beside his kneeling friend, whose hands he was holding. Everything disappeared around him and all he could see was her face. It was as if the world was in slow motion. He didn't hear the busy sounds of the concrete jungle. All he could hear was the nervous beating of his heart.

His face went ashen with fear and shock he had never known followed by an unbearable stab of pain in his heart. Before he knew or realized it, his feet were leading him in full pace towards where she laid. His panicked blue eyes were only trained on her. He saw the scene in slow motion. He saw her lose consciousness. He saw her once youthful glow become deathly pale or was it his imagination? He ran even faster to get to her in time.

"Let me through…excuse me…get out of my way…" he pushed his way through the crowd until he reached the barricade and a uniformed officer stopped him from entering.

"It's alright. Let him in. He's with me," Peter said behind the policeman. He nodded in response and let Neal in. He arrived just as the EMT lifted Ryne's unconscious body and started rolling her towards the back of the ambulance. He tried to rush by her side. His hand touched her cold skin before Peter grabbed and held him back.

"Ryne! Ryne!" All he could do was shout her name.

"Sir, please, let us do our job and take her to the hospital. If she doesn't receive immediate treatment her chances become very slim," one of the technicians said but he didn't hear any of it on the account of the blood rushing to his head. Neal trashed in the agent's arms, but his grip was stronger. He just stood and watched as the team lifted her gurney onto the back of the truck. As soon as she was inside, Neal heard deathly loud tones coming from the machine attached to her. When a second ago he couldn't hear anything, now all he could hear were the harsh fast beeps of the heart monitor.

"She's going to cardiac arrest. Prep the defibrillator. And get me an oxygen bag just in case," the lady paramedic said to her partner.

Neal watched them work around each other. He couldn't believe what was happening. He thought it couldn't get any worse, but he was wrong. His worse nightmare became a living hell. He saw her body shake uncontrollably until all he could hear was a flat tone signaling the sign of no life.

"No! No! No!" Neal screamed as he struggled in his friend's arms. That was the last thing he heard before the ambulance doors closed. He wanted to touch her soft and warm skin, to see her beautiful eyes open, to hear her heavenly voice. But all he did was watch her be driven and taken further away from him.

Neal didn't realize he was crying until he tasted the salt on his lips. As a world-renowned con artist, he trained himself to always put a mask and never show his true face or show vulnerability to the public, but who cared about that now when the love of his life was slipping away from him. He turned to face Peter and to demand some answers.

"Peter, what the hell happened?" Neal cried breathlessly. When he saw Peter's hands covered with blood, his knees almost buckled out of nausea. He didn't have to ask to know it was hers. Bile threatened to come up, but he quickly took hold of his fear to prevent looking more vulnerable and weaker especially in front of the bystanders watching them, or more specifically, watching him.

Peter led him away towards his car. He didn't answer his question or said anything else he just guided Neal to the passenger seat. When he sat down, Peter made his way towards the drivers side and sped away to the direction of the New York Presbyterian Hospital. They didn't speak during the ride and tension built within the small confine of the vehicle. Peter kept glancing at Neal, but he only stared ahead unblinking.

Not more than fifteen minutes later, they arrived and burst through the door of the emergency room. Neal ran to the reception desk to ask the status for a Ms. Ryne Beneventi. The receptionist typed in her computer and spouted off typical medical jargon.

"She arrived not long ago. They managed to restart her heart. She was rushed to emergency surgery, so it will be a while till you hear anything," she recited almost monotonously as if she didn't care about what happened to her.

Neal controlled his anger and just walked away towards where the vending machines stood. He paced back and forth the tiny hallway. He clenched and unclenched his hands over and over again. He felt so weak and tired. He leaned on the side of one of the machines to rest and shut get away from all of it for a second, but all he could see was her unconscious body. He thought of Ryne and how he would give anything to trade places with her right now.

He couldn't hold his emotions in anymore and he burst into tears as he slid down the side of the machine. He was so close to losing her. He still could. He rested his elbows on his raised knees and covered his tears with his shaking hands.

Peter's heart broke as Neal fell apart. All he could do was watch. He didn't know how to help, but he thought a simple gesture would be a start. He knelt in front of his friend shielding him away from the eyes of people passing by. He reached out and patted Neal's shoulder lightly to let him know he was there to support him.

Neal willed himself to calm down. It took most of his strength, but he managed to hold his tears back in. Even though what he wanted to do was scream at the world, he didn't. Instead he sealed his emotions temporarily and put on a steely face. Not for himself but for the love of his life. He knows she's fighting to come back to him, so will he. He will fight and be strong so when she wakes up, he's there to welcome her. Slowly, he stood up and dusted his Devore suit and faced his friend.

"Peter, what happened?" He asked again this time determined to not be ignored. Peter hesitated to look his friend in the eye, afraid of what might come when he tells him of what he learned. But if he learned anything about Neal over the last several years was that he'd stop at nothing to learn the truth, so he didn't really have a choice but to tell him Ryne's last words.