#i keep telling myself it's serious crunch time and i need to keep these pieces simple

[fexiled]

@stanuary Week Two: Connection

dropped call

[nightwingshero]

If you're taking the touch starved prompts, how about "breaking down mid-hug because they just needed this so much" for Wren and Leon?

So this got angsty really fast, and I didn't mean for it to, so I hope you still like it. But I think it does show the level of trauma and things that Leon and Wren experience together that kinda...makes them so close, or at least, gives you a better insight to a part of their relationship. There's some mention of gore.

The gun dropped, slipping from my fingers as it clattered on the linoleum tiled floor. I imagined that it was polished and shining to perfection at one point, but it was now covered in red. My emotions were running high, that was more than obvious, but I preferred to pretend that I could handle it. I kept them under a tight leash the best as I could. It didn’t stop the way my hands shook or the way my breathing slowly became too fast. I took a step back and that should have been another flag that perhaps I wasn’t as put together as I was telling myself, not as I watched the dark blood spread on the floor. I should’ve picked up the gun, I should’ve moved on, but I couldn’t stop staring at him or the hint of the silver chain that was around his neck. My stomach churned even worse.

My mother’s locket.

Red hot wrath burned in my veins, because as much as I hated the man laying on the floor, I was heartbroken at how much he had loved her, how it had cost me so much because that love was beyond anything he ever felt for his own daughter. My throat ached from the lump forming there and I tried to swallow, but I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Hey.” He called behind me, the last person I could possibly let see me like that had stepped even closer, slowly turning me to him. “Hey, look at me.” I didn’t protest when Leon pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around. It was a hug that felt as if he was trying to take all that I had witnessed in the last few minutes from my mind, as if sheltering me, but it was too late. “Wren, I’m sorry.” He whispered.

My breathing quickly turned to sobbing as I clawed at his police uniform, the long sleeves of his grey shirt long since torn off with dry blook and grime sticking to the dark fabric of the uniform shirt. I didn’t care, not as I began to hyperventilate and sob against his uninjured shoulder. “He—he was supposed to be at the hospital.”

“I know.”

“He…they infected him. I killed…” I felt I would be sick as the gunshot still rang in my ears, the image of what used to be my father’s face turning into nothing but a gory mess. “I killed my father…”

“It’s not your fault, Wren.” Leon whispered.

If anyone understood what I was going through, it was him. Having to watch him fail to save not one, but two fellow officers in one night was just the beginning for him, for both of us. Everyone we had to take down took a piece of us, pieces I wasn’t entirely sure we would ever get back—though I wanted to try. And with that thought, I clung to him tighter, desperate for the warmth and the comfort he provided as I wrapped my arms more firmly around him, my hands fisting the back of his shirt. Leon only seemed to hesitate for a second before his own arms tightened considerably. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had held me like that, but I knew that I never wanted to let go. Nothing was alright, not when I had to shoot the monster—with or without the infection—behind me, the one I had known as my father.

Neither of us seemed to want to let go, but we were on a time crunch and there wasn’t time for mourning. We pulled away too soon, but Leon lingered as he looked down at me, his gaze almost too intense for me to hold, not when my emotions were so raw. “We keep going and make sure they answer for this, Wren. We bring them to justice by turning them in. Together. Right?” he asked and offered up his pinky. I almost laughed at him for using something that had started off as some sarcastic joke at his expense in such a serious manner, but I couldn’t help but wrap my own around his. “Partners?”

“Partners.” I croaked, my voice wrecked from the crying, and I couldn’t imagine that my face was any better. But Leon just offered a slight smile, one that was sad but reassuring because neither of us were okay, but at least we weren’t alone. Leon grabbed my hand and carefully guided me around the body without letting me look, and even took a moment to grab the pistol I had foolishly dropped. Pushing forward into the dark halls of the underground lab, I clung to him closer. Not just for safety, but to try and chase the feeling of having his arms around me, keeping me warm, and if I thought about it too much, I would say that it felt a little oddly of home.

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 8

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 8

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1416

Summary: A dream starts to change the reader’s perspective on her life with Sam.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w  b u r n

           It took weeks but the physical touch you’d gotten so used to came back one handhold at a time until finally it seemed like maybe Sam had made peace with The Sledding Incident. You never forced it, didn’t say anything because you didn’t want to push him away. Waiting felt like starving with a ten course meal on a silver platter in front of you, but it paid off. Whether he realized he was rewarding you or not, the space to let Sam process was met with absentminded hands slipped around your waist at the grocery store, non-secrets hummed into the skin of your jaw and neck as you stood just barely too close, loose pieces of hair tucked behind your ear when you washed glasses at the bar. The positive reinforcement limited the clinging you’d been doing since you’d first driven away from the bunker, knowing that the less you clawed at Sam for scraps of attachment the less he felt like you were in too deep to receive it.

           Repair by repair the cabin started to feel more like yours. The bathrooms got painted a faint baby blue that reminded you of long cloudless afternoons in Sioux Falls and Sam taught you some basic plumbing to fix the water pressure in the shower. It was only slightly less gross than you thought it would be, but Sam was so excited when you put the plumber’s joint caulk on perfectly that it made up for the limescale gunk under your nails. When you worked, Sam pretty much stopped playing podcasts and books, relying instead on an ever-changing kaleidoscope of music Dean would never have let anyone play in the Impala. Some of it you were pretty sure Sam didn’t even like, almost as if he was trying to learn a new culture by jumping in headfirst.

           You kept writing in your journal like you were sending letters back home to Dean from summer camp, giving little updates on the cabin or Sam or ridiculous drama you heard at the bar. At night you and Sam would talk about what should get fixed next and sometimes if you were feeling tough you’d watch Sam look up at the ceiling, hair splayed out on the pillow around him like a halo while he told a story about him and Dean growing up or times you’d been away from them on the road. Every once in a while you’d heard Dean’s perspective of the same event and would give them like a little gift to Sam. His eyes would go soft, hanging on your every word and letting his mouth quirk up a hair at the corners. You’d laugh together, often sadly but surprisingly sometimes not, winding into the crook under his arm and playing the tapes of the memories in your head.

           More and more frequently, you’d have good dreams—or rather, non-nightmares. Dean would get hurt and survive or you’d all be on a job together. Right before you woke up he’d be just about to say something important, warn you of something serious but couldn’t spit it out fast enough. It was frustrating, but so much nicer than waking up on soaked pillows that you just put it in a letter to Dean and tried to move on with your daytime projects and nighttime bar work. Some days it felt like you were going to be okay and then the next you’d be impaled on grief so hard you couldn’t even breathe around it. And yet, always Sam to tie yourself to and slide into the next day.

           It’s cold but bright, the sunlight reflecting and magnifying itself on the snow blanketing the landscape. Salt crunches under the tires of the Impala, just barely louder than the engine and enough to be aware of through a ZZ Top tape. You’re almost on the edge of drifting asleep on the windowsill when Dean grabs your arm.

           “Hey, come on, you can’t leave me.”

           The urgency in his tone jolts you alert. “Why? What’s going on?”

           “I don’t know how much time I have left. There’s a lot I need to tell you.”

           “We haven’t even picked up Sam yet,” you answer, in the self-assuredness of dream logic. “How bad could it be?”

           “It’s me, baby. It’s really me. Dead, everything, the works. I need you to focus, I don’t know how long I can stay.”

           Some small sub-sub-conscious part of your mind jolts to attention. It feels honest, or at least the closest to honest as you had wanted to be in a while. You let yourself indulge it.

           “You, like—really? It’s really…?”

           “Yeah, it’s me. I—I don’t know how to—” and you stop him with a furtive kiss, all hunger and no grace, just wanting to feel what it was like to be against him again.

           Dean swerves a little when his eyes open, momentarily dazed. “Christ, I forgot how good that was.”

           “I don’t—how are you…?” you murmur, having a hard time not only with the information but also with the juxtaposition of your conscious and subconscious knowledge.

           “No bullshit, I’m communicating beyond the grave. Don’t tell Miss Cleo,” he answers, the smirk twisting your stomach like a wrench.

           “Are you okay? If this is what it’s like to be dead then Sam and I will be here the second I wake up, we’ll just come to you—"

           “Babe, I wish you could but it doesn’t work like that. It’s not even really supposed to work like this but Cass is pulling some strings. I only have until your subconscious realizes what’s going on and kicks me out.”

           “What? How?”

           “The separation between living and dead is a little bit thinner when you’re asleep. It’s actually pretty cool but it’s going to take a while to explain.”

           “Okay, right, got to be fast. Fuck, I miss you so much.”

           “I miss you too, kid. More than I can explain. But listen, baby, I’m so proud of you for making it this far. It’s going to be okay, I promise. Sam will take care of you, and I know you’re taking care of him the best you can. I don’t know how long I have until you wake up. I’ll keep trying again to come to you, but until the next time I get to see you, my firecracker, you’re so tough. You can do a lot worse than Sam, and I would never, ever hold it against either of you. I’ve been trying to send that—been trying to ram my head through this fucking door about a hundred times by now actually—but if it hasn’t been coming through strongly enough, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what the fuck I’d be doing if it had been one of you—probably would’ve drunk myself to death by now to be honest—so the fact that you’re so worried about whether necking is going to raise my soul from the depths is actually sorta sweet. Love is complicated and the lines get blurred; I get it, especially now with some damned perspective. As long as I’m still going to be your guy when you get here, that’s all that matters to me. You’re it for me, kid.” He traces a light finger down the side of your cheek and it sends an ache straight into your stomach, makes him look lost for a beat as he takes you in.

           “Dean, I love you. I can't—I can’t even tell you how much I love you. I never got to say thank you for all the things you—”

           “Hey,” he says, grabbing your chin and holding you still to flick his gaze between your eyes. “I know. There’s no time. You don’t have to say that to me, I know. I always knew. I’m going to try to get to Sam too, but he’s—the angels are shocked at the shit that’s happening in his brain. Makes sense, you know, after everything he’s gone through, but I guess it makes it harder to slip through the cracks. But here: if I can’t do this again; if this is the last time I talk to you until you get back to me, I love you, and I’m going to keep loving you no matter what. The two people I love most in the world being together could never be bad to me, and I will alway—”

           And you woke up.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 9

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass @vxnderlindes @deanwinchesterswitch @akshi8278 @itsjensenanddean @flannellover67 @weepingwillowphoenix @tj-drinks-tea @whatareyousearchingfordean @winchestergirl2 @winchest09 @samwisethegr8​ @fawnxng​ @nurse-sarahrn​ @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love​ @deanwanddamons​ @stressedoutkitten​ @winchestershiresauce​ @tatted-trina6​ @percico-heronstairs​ @downanddirtydean​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @lyarr24​ @waywardwifey​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @wonder-cole​ @sergeantsea​ @peachyafshawn​ @tjfinnigan​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @calaofnoldor​

And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

[snackleggg]

City of splintering hopes: Chapter 4 "Meda-Lean"

~~~

Ao3

~~~

When Danny came out the other side of the cave, back into the Far Frozen, he turned around to confirm yep the bird robot is still following me.

"So why exactly has keeping me safe been 'added as your top objective'?" Danny asked, using air quotes when referencing what the robot had said earlier.

"Because you are a Halfa" It replied. Danny actually paused at that.

He turned around and started making the trek back to the yeti civilisation in the Far Frozen, following the route that Frostbite had led him through.

"Okay but I wasn't born a Halfa. I'm not a citizen of that city or even related to those Halfas in anyway so why did you activate?" Danny asked.

He heard the crunching of snow behind him stop and he also came to a stop to look behind him at the robot. It had it's head tilted to the side again, seemingly a common gesture for it when it was thinking or maybe confused?

"It does not matter if you were not born a Halfa. What matters is you are one now and that was proven by the activation once you stepped into the Hall of the Ancients" It stated and Danny could tell by it's abrupt blink that he was making a face because he did not understand half the things that just- well not 'came out of it's mouth', it didn't have a mouth but that last sentence definitely had him confused beyond all belief.

"Wat" Danny said "Hall of the what now? Activation? What are you talking about?"

"The Hall of the Ancients is the name of the structure atop the capital." It explained "The automatic pairing system was activated by your presence as it sensed you had not been assigned a droid and therefore assigned me to you" the robot finished and Danny needed a second to take all that in.

Instead of facing everything that sentence implied Danny turned back around and continued walking. He soon heard the crunching of snow behind him signalling that the robot bird was following.

"So... it only turned on because it sensed I was a Halfa?" Danny asked after a brief silence.

"Correct. All Halfas are assigned droids to assist and protect them in their everyday lives, especially those who travel outside of the Hidden lands" It explained and Danny was trying to wrap his mind around it. More questions suddenly started popping up into his mind, thankfully he finally had someone who seemed to know what they were talking about.

For some reason Danny felt relieved. The automatic system that the original Halfas left behind had recognised him as a Halfa and that made him feel very validated.

"Why'd it choose you?" Danny asked after briefly mulling over the question. He had seen many of those statues in the alcoves in the walls and there had probably been more he hadn't seen deeper inside the building. So why was this specific droid chosen for him?

"Each droid has a unique personality of sorts, unique responses to certain situations and when you stepped into the building it scanned your core and automatically found the droid best suited to serve and protect you" It replied.

"So there are just a bunch of pre-made droids laying around waiting to be assigned?" Danny asked, he couldn't help the sadness that tainted his voice. Those droids would probably never be activated, Danny sure as hell wasn't letting Vlad get his grubby little hands on one. He shuddered at the very thought of Vlad knowing about the ruins.

"Incorrect" It informed him "Halfa children typically have droids created and assigned for them at the age of 10. All droids in the Hall of the Ancients had already been created and assigned to a Halfa at some point and were all once active. Including myself." the robot said, there was something in it's voice but Danny couldn't place his finger on it.

"Wait so.... how long have you been deactivated for?" He asked.

"It has been roughly 247 years since I was last active" It replied, that strange tone in it's voice again.

"And that was when...." He could piece together what that meant but the droid answered him anyway.

"When Pariah Dark was launching his attack on the Halfas" Danny suddenly recognised the emotion in it's voice. Grief. Sadness. Hesitancy.

Even if it was a robot Danny could only imagine what it was like. Then another thought hit him and he stopped again in his tracks on the path. But only for a moment before he continued. He could sense the robot's worried gaze but Danny wasn't going to bring up what had caused him to stop. He didn't even want to look back at the droid.

Danny couldn't bring himself to ask more questions, not yet. Maybe another time when his core wasn't clenching in sympathy for the droid.

They walked in silence, every once in a while Danny looked back at the robot bird to see it was seemingly surveying it's surroundings. Danny thought back to how he had scanned the landscape around him when he had come through here with Frostbite and he bit back a laugh at the similarity. It didn't take long before the droid snapped it's attention back to him whenever it noticed him glancing.

Finally they made it back to landscape and terrain Danny was familiar with and it wasn't long before Frostbite popped out and greeted him.

"Great One! You have returned!" Frostbite exclaimed and then he took notice of the new face following behind Danny but instead of any number of reactions Danny had expected Frostbite just glanced at it with something akin to nostalgia in his eyes before diverting his attention back to Danny.

"You're injured!" Frostbite shouted, finally taking noticed of his broken nose. The blood, having dried up ages ago, now looked a muddy brown and felt flaky against Danny's skin.

"Yeah, I had a bit of a crash" Danny said, straining the last word as he glanced at the robot bird that simply blinked back at him.

"Come, let's get you fixed up then before your travel home" Frostbite insisted, ushering him towards the yeti tribe to get his nose fixed up.

Half an hour later and lots of assuring Frostbite that "I'm fine" "No, I don't have a concussion" "Yes, I will make sure to be careful to avoid faceplanting into anything", Danny was finally given the okay to go home but before he left he had one last thing to ask Frostbite.

"Frosty, why aren't you phased by the sudden stone robot bird following me around?" Danny asked, gesturing to said droid who was still hunched over as it stood behind him. Danny had noticed that the robot bird, while not hunching to the point of meeting his eye level anymore, was still not standing to it's full height. He also noticed that no one in the Far Frozen tribe batted an eye at the stone being.

"Oh! Sorry Great One, you must be confused by our lack of reaction! It's just these stone creatures always accompanied past Halfas. If anything we had been surprised when first meeting you that you did not have one. I had a feeling that you may gain one by visiting the sight of their origin" Frostbite replied thoughtfully, a paw held to his chin as he briefly examined the droid.

Danny felt his eye twitch slightly "And you didn't think to inform me that when entering the remains of a Halfa civilisation that some ancient automatic system would decide to give me some bodyguard assistant?" Danny asked, his tone becoming more hysterical as the absurdness of the situation sunk in.

"I apologise Great One. It had only crossed my mind after you had already entered the cave" Frostbite at least had the decency to look sheepish.

Danny took a deep breath before letting it out and giving a slightly strained smile "it's... okay. At least you didn't mean to leave out that semi important fact" He said.

Finally, finally! Danny started his flight home after one last goodbye to Frostbite. He also quickly discovered that bird like stone beings could apparently fly. The droid flew above Danny, stone wings spread and the occasional flap of them even though he was pretty sure that wasn't necessary but he wasn't about to rain all over the robot bird's parade.

Halfway home he realised that he will definitely not be able to explain a giant stone robot following him around to his parents.

"Hey uh... can you turn invisible?" Danny directed to the robot flying above him. The droid looked down at him, blinking once, before replying "Yes, I can but it is energy consuming so only for short periods of time"

"Cool cool cool coolcoolcoolcool, cause when we get to the portal you're gonna have to turn invisible so my parents don't see you" Danny said, a scenario of what would happen to the droid if his parents saw it played in his mind and he quickly shook it from his head.

"Portal? Are we travelling to the living realm?" The robot bird asked and Danny remembered that this was a robot two centuries and a half out of it's time. He would need to keep as close an eye on it as it was keeping on him.

"Yeah. I kind of live there but my parents don't really know about the whole being a Halfa thing so if you stay out of their sight I would really appreciate it. My sister Jazz is fine though, she knows" Danny dreaded having to explain this to Jazz. 'Hey Jazz! I went to the ancient ruins of the original Halfas like we talked about yesterday! I accidently triggered some automatic pairing system that gave me a robot bodyguard for the foreseeable future!' Yeah, that was not going to be a fun conversation.

"I will be mindful" The droid replied before they fell back into a comfortable silence.

Soon the Fenton ghost portal came into view and they both landed on the floating rock it was positioned on.

"Okay remember, invisible. I'll tell you when you can drop the invisibility. Just stay quiet and try not to touch anything" Danny said, making sure he got across how serious this was to the droid.

The robot bird nodded before disappearing from sight instantly.

Danny turned around and did the same, turning himself invisible as he walked through. He mildly panicked when the thought that the droid wouldn't be able to follow him crossed his mind but the feeling of three claw like stone fingers on his shoulder quickly got rid of those doubts.

As expected, his parents were working in the lab, focused intensely on their newest invention which of course was a blaster of some kind. Danny rolled his eyes, another weapon he would have to dodge.

As Danny walked through the lab it was unnerving to him how quiet the droid was managing to be. No heavy footsteps like when they had been walking through the Far Frozen and the cave. No sound of camera like clicking from blinking. The only indication Danny had that it was there were the cool stone fingers on his shoulder.

They made it up the stairs with out a single noise and as soon as they got through the doors Danny immediately dropped his invisibility.

"You can drop it now" He said when the droid didn't immediately follow his example. After the robot became visible again Danny moved around it to close the door to the lab and he sighed in relief.

Despite the fact that he had left in the morning it was evening now as Danny had spent roughly 7 and a half hours on his little side quest. He let the transformation back to his human form go over him and breathed a little in relief.

He saw in the corner of his eye the droid jerk back a bit and he turned to see it blinking repeatedly at him with that same clicking noise before suddenly stopping.

"Your clothes are different than in your other form" It stated.

"Yeah, what of it?" Danny asked as the droid stared at him, still hunched over but Danny was pretty sure it would hit it's head on the ceiling if it stood at it's full height.

"I am an information retrieval droid. Though my objectives have been updated for your safety as top priority I still must gather as much information as possible on everything around me" It stated. Danny made a mental note never to let it onto the internet unsupervised.

"Oh well, like I said earlier I wasn't born a Halfa. I kind of half died? Or maybe I died fully but was half brought back to life? Either way I died, whether half or fully, and those clothes were just the ones I died in" Danny shrugged.

The droid looked at him for another second before seemingly accepting that answer and turning it's attention to their surroundings.

"Right, if you're going to be following me around you should know the layout of the house" Danny said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The droid nodded absentmindedly, Danny could see it's thin pupils moving around rapidly, trying to take in as much information about the surroundings as possible no doubt.

"Well this is the kitchen. We eat food in here but you don't have a mouth and are a robot so I don't think you'll find yourself in here too often. You already saw the lab, in the basement. Don't go down there unless I'm with you because my parents are down there like 70% of the time" Danny said as he gestured around and then to the door behind them.

Danny started moving into the living room and the droid followed him, he noted that the sound of it's heavy footsteps had returned.

"Living room, we'll pass through here alot to get to the front door so if my parents are ever in here you'll have to turn invisible and be quiet" Danny said, again making a sweeping motion with his arm to show the room. It was weird, he kind of felt like he was showing around a secret roommate.

They went up the stairs. Danny quickly explained that the droid should never ever follow him into the bathroom. An off handed comment to avoid his parents room and the stairs that led to the Ops center. He also pointed out Jazz's room before ending the tour with his own room.

"Since you insist on being around me all the time you'll be spending alot of time in here" Danny said after he closed the door to his room.

The droid was looking around with great interest, examining the books he had on his shelf and all the different space themed things scattered around his room. Danny felt a little embarrassed and could feel his face heating up even though he knew the robot was most likely analysing everything so it could get a better understanding of the Halfa it had been paired with.

Then a thought hit Danny.

"This might be an awkward question to ask now but uh-" the droid turned to face him as he fumbled with something he should've asked from the start "Do you um, have a name I could call you?" Danny asked. He was getting a little tired referring to it as 'the droid' and 'the robot bird' in his head.

"Why yes, you may call me Meda-Lean" They said and Danny blinked.

"Medalean? Or wait- Meda Lean" Danny corrected himself and Meda-Lean nodded.

"Can I call ya Meds for short? Y'know like a nickname?" Danny asked.

"Yes, you may call me 'Meds'." Meds confirmed and the way their eyes seemed to half close gave the impression that if they had a mouth they would be smiling.

----

A stone statue stood tall in a ravaged battlefield. The land was empty and quiet until suddenly the statue moved. The grey stone fell apart revealing a ghost. A rumour that the worlds, both the living and the dead, had forgotten.

The tall figure stood and stretched out two large metallic wings from his back, being careful not to jostle the bow and bag of arrows also resting on his back. Despite not needing to breath he took in a deep breath before releasing it as a loud sigh that echoed throughout the long abandoned battlefield.

"I smell Halfa"

~~~

First | Previous | Next

~~~

I'll be tagging all content do to with this story with the tag City of splintering hopes so if guys want to you can follow the story easier. You can also use that tag for any questions or content you guys make of the story!

[doc-pickles]

the storm & the wind

Brooke is running and Alex happens to meet her along her journey. Their brief encounter might just change everything for her.

hey hi hello I am DOUBLE POSTING for some god damn reason. (i updated treacherous on AO3 for the the first time in 20 years) this was in my drafts and I felt the sudden overwhelming need to finish it today. I love this piece more than I can say and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy so I hope y’all enjoy it.

also the title comes from this quote from Little Women: You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.

+

The snow crunching beneath her feet soaks into her worn Converse, a chilling reminder that she should’ve thought to grab something warmer. She makes a mental note to throw her now soaked socks over the heating vent later as she walks into the diner. It’s an old rundown place, but the gust of warm air that brushes over her face as she enters is a more than welcome feeling. Sitting at the counter she knows she should order something to eat but she can’t bring herself to ask for more than a cup of coffee when an aging waitress comes by and asks, her fingers greedily clutching the mug as she takes a sip.

“You’re not really dressed for the weather.”

The voice startles her, her grip around the cup tightening as she turns to her left. The owner of the voice can’t be much older than her, his chiseled jawline dotted with stubble and his dark hair cropped close to his head. He looks grumpy, an expression more at home on someone twice his age but the glint in his eyes keeps his youthful appearance.

“Your shoes are practically soaked through and you have a sweater on in 13-degree weather,” the stranger continues to share his thoughts, his comment prompting her to pull her cardigan tighter around herself. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here Blondie.”

The observation reminds her that the thick braid hanging over her shoulder is a bright bleach blonde instead of her natural brunette coloring. She’d hastily dyed it in a rest stop somewhere in Ohio, desperate to wash away any traces of him that she could.

“I’m from New Jersey. Well… Kind of. I’m originally from Pennsylvania.”

The words slip from her mouth before she can second-guess them. Normally she would worry about giving any identifying information out, the fear of him being able to find her consuming her mind. But she knows now that she’s far from New Jersey and the life she left behind.

“You’re from the East Coast and you didn’t pack a winter coat?”

“I forgot… I was in a rush.”

That part isn’t a total lie, she had been in a rush when she left. She had shoved as much as she could into her suitcase while he had been working, not wanting to face his anger at her sudden departure. Now though she wishes she had put more thought into what she grabbed, she’d been freezing since she left.

“Here, you look like a wet dog shivering like that,” the man slips his thick red flannel off, holding the garment out to her with an expectant look. “Cmon, I don't have fleas or anything.”

She takes the proffered jacket, only because she’s shaking just as much as he says she is. The heavy material settles on her shoulders instantly warming her. The man looks at her for a moment before turning back to his coffee, speaking as he stares at the dark liquid, “If you're from Jersey what the hell are you doing out here? Middle of nowhere Iowa isn’t exactly a tourist destination.”

“I’m starting over, running away from… something. At least I think I am. I’m not quite sure,” she toys with the sleeves of his jacket, finally looking back up at him after a moment with an accusing tone. “Why do you care anyways? Are you just trying to make sure I don’t have any concerned family members that will come looking for me after you kidnap and murder me?”

There’s a momentary pause before a peel of laughter erupts from the man, a glint taking over his dark eyes as he speaks, “Jesus, you’re really paranoid or something, huh?”

“Or something,” the words are barely a whisper, but they’re loud enough for him to hear and stop his laughter. She looks up and meets his eyes, noticing how he looks her over as if trying to figure out exactly what she’s thinking.

“I’m not trying to kill you, just trying to make conversation,” as if to prove his point he holds his hand out towards her. “I’m Alex.”

She hesitates only for a moment before settling her hand into his much larger one.

“I’m Brooke.”

+

The conversation seems easier after that, Alex talking about bringing his younger brother home after he had visited him in Seattle and Brooke talking about how she just finished her pre med degree at Princeton. They actually had a lot in common, an almost comforting feeling for her since Paul had isolated her from all her friends.

Paul.

She didn’t dare bring up her abusive husband or the horrors he had dragged her through. No, today she’s not poor defenseless Brooke Stadler whose husband can’t control his temper. Today she’s just Brooke, recent college grad who’s eating breakfast with Alex, the cute doctor with a charming smile.

“So why’d you say you’re starting over,” Alex finally broaches the subject as they both finish their meals. “I mean you just finished pre-med, that means you’re starting med school in the fall right? What are you running from? ”

Brooke shrugs, eyes falling to her now empty plate and she avoids Alex's piercing stare, “I’m supposed to start at Princeton med but now I’m not so sure. A lot has happened lately… It's complicated.”

Alex‘s hand reaches out for her arm, the move causing her to jump slightly. An embarrassed blush paints itself on her cheeks as Alex searches her eyes, almost as if he knows what she’s thinking about. He seems to brush the thought off quickly though as he continues to prod at her.

“Well… Did you get in anywhere else? It’s not too late to change your mind,” Alex shrugged as if sensing Brooke’s discomfort with the situation. “I was supposed to do my residency at the hospital down the street before I switched to Seattle at the last minute. Best thing I probably could’ve done for myself.”

“Well… I got into Harvard too. But I’m not sure,” there’s hesitation lacing her voice when she knows there shouldn’t be. Her mind is swirling, thinking about the fact that she could always go back to him. “I don’t know, I was thinking about going back home.”

Alex scoffs, the small noise causing Brooke to stare at him intensely, “You're not going back home, that’s a load of crap.”

“What makes you so sure about that? You don’t know anything about me.”

There’s a pause as Alex takes a sip of his coffee, a deliberate distraction as he attempts to string together the right words, “Well that black eye isn’t hidden as well as you think it is. And you jumped about a mile in the air when I first started talking to you. So I’m assuming you’re not running from something but someone. Did I get it right?”

Brooke’s fingers froze around her mug, eyes watering as she stared blankly at the dark liquid swirling inside. She pushes down the uncomfortable lump forming in her throat, trying to convince her nerves that Alex was just observant and not a threat.

“My husband… he has a temper,” eyes still focused on the coffee instead of Alex, Brooke found it marginally easier to talk about the real reason she was sitting in a diner in Iowa. “I just knew, the last time he… I just knew if he did it again he would kill me. So when he went to work I grabbed as much as I could and I got in my car and I drove. I don’t think I stopped for almost five hours, not really knowing where I was going. I just knew I had to keep going, that I couldn’t live like that any longer.”

The sounds of the diner around them are all Brooke can hear as her truth settles in the air, Alex taking in everything she’d ungraciously word vomited out. When he finally does speak again, there’s no tell tale tone of pity in his voice that she’d been anticipating.

“My dad was the same way, but my mom never had it in her to run. She was pretty messed up herself,” Brooke looks up at the stranger next to her as a small chuckle breaks through his serious tone. “She wouldn’t run so I had to raise my siblings, I had to make sure we all stayed alive. So I get it, why you’re running. And for what it’s worth, I think you should keep running.”

Swiping at the tears that had collected under her eyelashes Brooke thought about Alex’s words, “He's gonna find me, I know he will.”

“Screw him,” Alex scoffs, taking a swig of his coffee before continuing. “Go to Harvard, change your name, live your life. I promise you, you’ll regret it if you turn around and go back. You have a chance, a real chance, to change your life. Don’t let that slip away.”

There’s a beat of silence as Alex’s encouragement settles deep within Brooke’s chest. The man was a stranger in every sense of the word but somehow his whole hearted belief in her encouraged her to keep moving forward.

“Think of it this way, you get to start a brand new life, no strings attached,” Alex continues. “You can pick something cool! Something that means something. Like… One of those sisters from the book where their dad is away at war?”

“Little Women?”

“Yeah that one,” Brooke laughs at Alex’s statement, causing him to roll his eyes. “Oh shut up, my sister was obsessed with it and made me read it like a hundred times. But all those sisters were badasses, you could use one of those names. Like Amy or Beth. Well no she dies… How about Jo! You definitely look like a Jo to me.”

Brooke’s nose scrunches up at the names, causing both of them to laugh as Alex comes up with ridiculous suggestions. A flood of relief washes over Brooke as the two continue to talk. It had been a long time since she’d let her guard down around someone and just been herself.

A while later she excuses herself to the bathroom, a flash of disappointment striking her when she comes back to an empty seat. Her bill that had been sitting on the counter was paid, the receipt turned over and messy scrawl covering the back.

‘Keep running.’

-

So she does, Brooke keeps running and running and running and she doesn’t stop. In fact, when the running doesn’t feel like enough anymore she takes up actual running to calm her mind.

She runs every morning, at least two miles to clear her head and to keep herself sane. The days she misses her run are filled with overwhelming thoughts and anxiety that courses through her veins so quickly that it feels like a river crashing over her nervous system. She changes her name, cuts her hair, goes to Harvard and graduates top of her class. Every movement, every breath feels like she’s just moving towards the end of a never ending trail. But she keeps going, she keeps running because it’s all she can do.

When she gets accepted into Seattle Grace, one of the best hospitals in the country that puts thousands of miles between her and her past, it finally feels like a breath of fresh air, like relief is on the horizon. So she leaves Boston, leaves the east coast and everything familiar and finally feels like she might be able to stop running.

Seattle is different, it’s new and unexpected and perfect. It’s the first place where her name feels like it’s truly hers even though she’d lived with it now for almost seven years. Her first morning in her new apartment she goes for a run and finds herself looking over the Seattle harbor with a wide smile on her face. She’s a doctor now, something she’s worked towards her whole life it seems, but now it seems so real.

And then she gets put onto a Peds rotation and her heart seems to stop beating in her chest. Because her attending, Doctor Karev, is someone who’s appeared in her mind almost everyday since the first time she met him. His face, albeit a bit younger, is the one that appears when she thinks she can’t go on any longer.

“You mind?”

Alex’s voice brings her back from her daze, the same one that echoes her footfalls as she chases an adrenaline high every morning. She shakes her head in a futile attempt to clear it, “Sorry.”

“Why are you following me,” there’s an annoyed tone to his voice as she mimics his brisk pace down the hallway. She’d heard horror stories about him, about how rude and mean he was but she never would've guessed it was him.

“I'm your intern for the day.”

“Oh. Well, hello, intern,” Alex side eyes her, not really taking her in. “You have a name?”

“Jo. Jo Wilson,” it’s probably the fiftieth time she's said her name out loud since coming to Seattle but this time it feels different.

There’s a pause and Alex turns to take her in once more, as if he had missed something the first time he’d looked. She almost thinks he’ll say something, but he just shrugs and returns to tying his trauma gown, “Oh, nice. I like chicks with boys' names.”

The moment that she thought was there was gone and she stared at her shoelaces as Alex and Doctor Torres prattled on about something. She figures she should be grateful that he didn’t recognize her, that the seven years and the constant self improvement she’d put into herself had paid off. Still, her heart sunk as she realized that the man that had pushed her to keep running, to change her life, didn’t remember her.

-

Their story isn’t easy, in fact it’s one of the hardest things she’s ever been through. But there’s not a single ounce of hesitation or regret in her body when she wakes up every morning next to him. She’s always up before him, solely so she can get her run in before he wakes. By the time she comes back and showers, his eyes are sleepily staring up at her and his arms are reaching out for her like she’d been gone longer than a quick jog.

Alex is the person she’d needed, the one who pushed her to be better and made her feel like she didn’t need to change anything about herself. But the need to run, to keep running still hammered in her chest right under her heartbeat. She figured it would always sit there, the constant anxiety that her past might catch up with her if she stopped running.

When Paul shows up, all she wants is Alex. Before Seattle she would've run, would’ve been gone before anyone could blink to miss her. But now she wants nothing more than to curl up in Alex’s arms and never leave. She knows there’s more that needs to be done though, knows there’s more to the fight and that she needs to keep running this last little bit.

It’s not until she sees her ex husband laying in a hospital bed brain dead that Jo finally feels like she can breathe again, like she can stop fighting and just be. The breath of relief that washes over her as Alex runs his hand down her back feels like a thousand pound weight being lifted off her shoulders.

“I was pregnant.”

There’s a pause and she can feel Alex tense next to her, his hand on her back slowing as his eyes bore into her. She wishes she could stop but the words have been dying to slip out for the past six years that she’s been with him.

“The day we met, I was pregnant,” she turns to look at him, tears shining in her eyes. He doesn’t look shocked, not as shocked as he would’ve been if he didn’t know too. “I almost turned around and went back to him and raised a baby with him but I didn’t. The only reason I didn’t was because of this cocky asshole I met in a shitty diner who convinced me to start over. You’re the reason I kept running, the reason I didn’t go back. Whenever I doubted myself I heard your voice, the voice of a complete stranger mind you, in the back of my head telling me to keep running. You... you’re the reason I’m alive.”

Alex keeps his gaze on her for a minute, not daring to look away as they both realize that the other has known. Through the years of their relationship, since their second meeting in the very halls of this hospital they’ve both known exactly who the other is.

“You did all of that by yourself, you just needed a little push,” Alex brings her close again, his lips brushing against her forehead as she folds herself into his side. She’s crying full on now, her chest shaking as she finally lets herself stop running and lets the pent up emotions of the past few days wash over her. “I knew you could do it, I’m glad you did.”

Her tears don’t stop for a few days as she comes to terms with the fact that there’s no longer a need for her to run. In fact a few days later as she’s on her morning jog she stops and takes the deepest breath she feels she’s ever taken. As she leans on her knees she takes in the feeling of air freely flowing through her lungs, the exhilaration coursing through her body akin to what she thinks completing a marathon must feel like. Her eyes scan the Seattle harbor, taking in the sunrise as she breathes heavily and lets the day settle in around her. She'd run her race, she’d run it longer and faster and better than she’d thought she was capable of and finally, finally, she had finished.

[lilacslovers]

💎 Lilac x Gordie {Royalty + Royal Guard AU Fic} Chapter One | The Meeting 💎

aaa i’m so happy! i’ve finished a fic of the first meeting of my s/i and gordie in the royalty au <3

yes it does say chapter one but. idk if this a proper series, its possibly a figurative ���lets start from chapter one !’ its also just. omg it’s just a chapter like. not even a drabble. just a whole chapter HSJSND

but i truly hope you guys enjoy this! :0 (fic is in the keep reading !! ^^)

•••

The dark oak-stained carriage rattled around Lilac with every prance of Rapidash transporting it, the tight space and cool, pillowy seats barely making up for the sheer cold she was moving into.

In her gloved hands lied a handwritten letter from the Royals in Circhester; a neat cursive paragraph requesting her and her other guard apprentices to protect their home. After all, they would need good protection to hide their most precious jewels in the family, and they required the best of the best. In a way, it flattered Lilac to know they wanted her to assist them.

She folded the letter back into her sac tied at her waist, cuddling into her cape in shock from the sudden Circhesterian chill; she wasn’t too far from the castle now, and wished that they could’ve made her Royal Guard uniform more cozy inside. Perhaps they considered this weather late spring or summer temperatures...

Off guard, the shrill of Rapidash’s cry as it finally came to a halt nearly catapulted her into the rock-hard wood in front of her. She gasped in relief to have caught herself in time, straightening herself to correct such unawareness.

A crunch came from the snow as she dropped down from her carriage, a bag with her necessities slinged over her armoured shoulder. Walking to the near entrance, she turned to the coachman.

“Brr, it’s quite cold around here! You better stay safe in that house, Lilac!” he said, smiling cheerfully.

“Thank you, coachman.” she replied, turning next to the Rapidash, stroking its soft mane.

“And thank you, Rapidash.” she grinned at the Pokémon, in which it whinnied gleefully in response.

Walking across the tiled road to Circhester Castle, the snowy bushes brushed up against her, gorgeously grown flowers to withstand the eternal cold peeked their heads out of the fluffy hedges. Already employed guards outside were gossiping to each other about the family; perhaps they were new guards, like herself. Lilac halted, gaining the attention of the two guards at the grand door they stood up against.

Lilac decided to break the tension between them.

“I am incredibly sorry to interrupt. I am Lilac. I am here to sign myself into the occupation of Guard. I have a letter from the castle itself if you were to want it-“

Before her quiet voice were to finish her sentence, the doors loudly creaked open, revealing the Queen herself; the entrance surprised all three of the guards, yet they all retained the same serious face to show their composure. The Queen gave Lilac a stern look...

“Oh!” came the cheery exclamation of the Queen Melony, holding her hand to her face. “Welcome, dear! I suppose you must be the new Indoor Guard, correct?”

“I- um,” Lilac mumbled, clearing her throat to free the words she had before being surprised. “Yes, your Majesty. I have brought your letter. It is an honour to work with you.”

“Come inside!” invited the Queen. “‘Tis warmer in here, after all! I’ll show you to your position here in the castle.”

“Ah, thank you, your Majesty.”

•••

The warmth of the castle quickly defrosted Lilac’s freezing arms, and the sudden relaxation couldn’t help but make her stare in wonder at the details within: the castle walls were extremely high, regal tapestries hung. Across the tapestries came multiple family portraits from popular artists, and looking closely at the painting would reveal details drawn ever so to-the-point, it made Lilac ponder how someone could even make such a realistic piece in a time limit...

“Oh, I must say,” the Queen began to state. “My children can be quite the troublemakers, hoho... My youngest, a daughter and three sons, I believe they sometimes choose whom they like to see more often, more with my sons, I think. But... my oldest...”

She stopped in her tracks, and so did Lilac.

“... Well, he’s heir to the Throne, now. He possibly cannot choose who he works with, hoho!”

“I see, your Majesty.” Lilac lightly smiled to match the emotion of the Queen’s conversation. “I shall wish the Prince congratulations on being first to the Throne.”

“Oh, he would simply love that,” the Queen chortled. “He is quite the sensible man. I do hope he is excited to rule... I’ve had quite the years around here.”

It was hard for Lilac to decipher who this Prince was; after all, the long generations of family portraits across the wall couldn’t help Lilac’s imagination at all.

Queen Melony pointed to a space by a door, where Lilac stationed herself onto.

“Perfect! Your routine will to be to guard at this area, as well as to watch the household members around here if needed.

You will also patrol around here with other guards around 12 to 1 o’clock PM. Is that understood?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Lilac agreed, straightening herself stoically. The Queen promptly smiled, and as she went out of sight, another guard poked their head out from the corner.

“Psst, hey. New guard.” they squeaked.

Lilac made eye contact with the other new guard.

“Have you seen Prince Gordie yet?”

“Who?”

“Prince Gordie!” another guard peeped. “C’mon, ‘who?’ Like, the Prince that is, like, constantly just... around? And cool?”

“I really don’t mean to be out of the loop, but...” Lilac held her chin to think. “I haven’t heard anything about any Prince Gordie... All I heard back from my town was when the Queen of Circhester came to visit, and when she did, it was never a ‘visit’ visit, only a ‘come to check out the best carriages’ visit.”

“Oh my Arceus, the Prince...!” yet another guard joined the conversation. “He looked shortly at me once. I just... I felt so seen...”

Oh, brother. Lilac looked away, until the commotion of the group caught her attention once again.

“Ah, look, there he comes...!”

A man came from the depths of the hallway, and suddenly it felt like everything was going slower - or perhaps Lilac was imagining things...

The man had his soft hair tied into a well-kept short ponytatail, as well as his soft and cute lapis eyes kept relaxed and sensual.

He walked with such confidence only a prince could ever have, his cape drifting gently across the satin carpets below. A slight jingling sound came from his minimalistic, yet beautiful necklace around his collar, the pendant resting on his chest where his relaxed blouse shaped the area around such jewellery.

His shoes lightly skipped across the satin carpets to not make even one noise, yet his heels made an dull tap that satisfyingly echoed across the area.

Whatever decent vision Lilac had of the Prince completely went from her mind; the Prince of Circhester, in her eyes, was indeed quite more handsome than she thought.

The guards squealed in delight, making all sorts of gestures to make Prince Gordie look over.

“Gordie! Could you please have a quick discussion with us? We need to talk to you about something?”

... And suddenly, all light the Prince had in his eyes disappeared as soon as he looked at them.

“... Gordie?” his deep, muttering voice repeated, his eyebrows furrowed. Lilac could see the optimism drain from the group, herself shivering along with them even if not involved.

“Never, in all my life, have I heard a stranger call me only by my first name. From what I recall, my title here is ‘Prince Gordie of Circhester’. Is that correct?” his angered voice paused for a while to let the guards rapidly nod their heads, truly attempting to not get into trouble.

“Yes. Now, all I want to hear from you few now is to refer to me as ‘Prince Gordie’. If you cannot, then ‘your Highness’, but if you can’t even manage a formal tone with a prince, you shall expect to be evicted from this castle. Is that understood?”

The guards nodded once again, mumbling out a few ‘Understood, Prince Gordie’s out from their held breath.

“Now. Don’t you have some patrolling to do? It is, after all, 12 o’clock. Go.”

The guards scurried away slowly, cowering from the unfortunate interaction.

Lilac, afraid herself of getting into an altercation, began to steadily inch her way around one corner.

“Please wait.” the Prince interrupted in a much normal, albeit naturally deep tone. Lilac hastily straightened her back once again, turned to face him.

“I did not mean you, I apologise for any confusion.” he stated, grinning. “It’s not actually 12, I just wanted them to leave, hehe.”

“My complete mistake, your Highness.” Lilac replied. “That is quite a tactic to make somebody leave, it’s certainly impressive, your Highness.”

“Hm,” Prince Gordie hummed, taking his chin with one hand. “Tell me, what is your name?”

Lilac paused, finding herself quite confounded at his question; oftentimes, asking for a guard’s name would be informal, as was taught in training.

“Ah, um, if you want it, It’s Lilac, your Highness.”

“Lilac, eh?” Prince Gordie grinned to himself. “A fitting, lovely name for a lovely guard.”

Lilac’s heart struck from the compliment, trying not to show any emotion upon her face, but the Prince began to speak again.

“I must go. I have quite a lot of errands to do.” he sighed, flicking his hair away from his vision.

“But, I do hope to see you again... Lilac.”

Prince Gordie gave a wave as he walked back out of the corridor, Lilac waving goodbye at the same time. As soon as he went completely, she faced the brick wall, intensely pondering the peculiar conversation she had had...

Surely...? Surely, he wasn’t trying to get her into trouble...? But, why would he take interest of only getting her name? Perhaps he was... No, absolutely not, Princes don’t form relationships with their servants...!

Unless, Prince Gordie wanted to?

Nevertheless, Lilac herself had duties to do. But, as she began to walk away, she couldn’t help but think as she rested her palm on her blushing cheek...

[quercussp]

Inside

Rating: M

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Even though both Dan and Phil spent most of their time indoors, being forced to stay inside during self isolation has started getting to them both.

Authors note: Written for @phanworkschallenge. 

Giant thank you to @dayevsphil and @insectbah for betaing!

Warnings: there is a very minor mention of a character accusing another character of using sex as a tool for emotional manipulation. It's very minor, and no actual manipulation takes place, it's said out of anger and is totally resolved. But just in case I thought I would mention it.

[read on ao3]

There were only so many blowjobs a man could endure in a day. And if anyone snorted in disbelief and said that there was no such thing as too many blowjobs, Phil would just remind them that they couldn’t judge because they had not had the experience of Dan Howell going down on them 7 times in one day.

 Even though both Dan and Phil spent most of their time indoors, being forced to stay inside during self isolation had started getting to them both. However, Phil was able to manage that by staying busy filming, chatting with his family over Skype every 3 or 4 days, and playing endless Animal Crossing.

 Dan, on the other hand, was going a little crazy by this point. Phil knew that Dan’s brain was a little trickier to settle down; Dan had a difficult relationship with productivity and self worth, but also Dan relied on his routines to keep his depression at bay. He had a standing appointment with his therapist once a week. He would do his morning runs and go to the gym three times a week. He would schedule a lunch or afternoon tea with a friend every now and then. All those things were necessary to keep the darkness away, and when all of those things had to be indefinitely postponed, Dan turned to his other coping mechanisms. Which brings us back to the issue of sex.

 Dan and Phil had always had a very healthy sex life. Sex was an important communication method for them, and they both genuinely enjoyed it. But for Dan, sex was also a method of escaping reality, something to quiet his mind, and being cooped up for so long, along with the existential dread and anxiety, had transformed Dan into a horny teenager that Phil just could not keep up with.

 “Come on Phil, I’ll make it so good for you!”

 Dan was currently sitting in Phil’s lap, wearing only a t-shirt, and placing wet kisses on Phil’s neck. Normally, this would have been a very welcome sight, but it was only 3 pm and this was literally the 4th time today that Dan had tried to fuck him and Phil’s dick was just not having it. Neither was Phil.

 “Dan, come on, give me at least another couple hours!” Phil tried to gently push Dan away, but Dan just kept grinding down on Phil’s lap, rubbing his hard dick against Phil’s clothed crotch.

 “Phil…” Dan whispered in his best seductive voice, “What are we, eighty? Let’s go again, since when have you ever been against getting your dick sucked? You don’t even have to do anything; I’ll do it myself, just lie back and enjoy!”

 One of the problems with Dan in this type of mood was that it wasn’t really about Dan getting an orgasm. That, Phil could do. Giving Dan a quick hand job or quickly going down on him, Phil could handle that. But Dan in this type of mood was only satisfied if Phil enjoyed himself. And by “enjoy,” he meant that Phil had to have a mind shattering orgasm every time, or it didn’t count. Dan treated this type of “coping” sex like a mission, and his own pleasure came secondarily. He got off on making Phil feel good, making him fall apart and lose control.

 On a particularly chatty and intimate night after a couple glasses of wine Dan had explained to Phil that the sex was not only to have a physical pleasurable sensation, but more to remind himself that he, Dan, could bring pleasure to his partner. That it made him feel like he was worthy and accomplished, that it silenced that little voice in his head telling him he's worthless, all things that were difficult to maintain while on quarantine. And of course Phil wished Dan knew that he was worthy and wonderful and perfect without that, but brains were often not cooperative, and Dan’s brain in particular sometimes had a hard time seeing himself objectively.

 “Dan, come on, have mercy!” Phil tried to stop Dan jokingly. “I’m not 18 anymore, I need some recovery time!”

 “Is that a challenge, Philly?” Dan mumbled into Phil’s neck, his hands snaking down and slipping into Phil’s pajama bottoms.

 “No, Dan, it’s not a challenge; I’m serious.”

 The change in Phil’s voice must have startled Dan, because he sat up and looked at Phil with surprise.

 “You really don’t want to?” he asked after a bit of a pause. Phil could tell that he was trying to sound casual, but the little notes of Dan being hurt were obvious to someone who knew him so well.

 “Dan,” Phil brushed his hands through Dan’s sweaty curls and gave him a peck on the cheek, trying to stay calm. “Dan, come on. I am just really not up to it right now, ok?”

 Phil could almost see the thoughts starting to spiral in Dan’s eyes. That Phil didn’t want him. That he was not attractive. That Phil was bored of him.

 Usually Phil had the presence of mind to remind himself that these doubts Dan would sometimes have weren’t rational thoughts. That it wasn’t the real Dan doubting their relationship. That there were demons in Dan’s head that he couldn’t fight but just had to do his best to calm down. Usually it made him want to do everything in his power to make Dan feel good again. Usually.

 But right now was not normal and Phil was tired of it. He was on edge, he was anxious, he was cooped up indoors, and he was just tired. He wanted to put on his earphones and play Animal Crossing for 5 hours and escape the world they were living in. So when Dan looked at Phil like a hurt puppy, Phil lost his temper a little bit.

 “Dan, this isn’t about you okay? You know this. What do you want me to do, have sex with you just to prove that I love you? Do I not prove it enough?”

 That was a low blow and Phil knew it. The moment he said it out loud he regretted it, but the damage was done.

 Dan stood up, his hands pulling on the edge of his t-shirt as though to cover himself up. His face was white and his eyes were shining with what looked suspiciously like tears. He walked towards the door, turning his head before leaving, as though waiting for Phil to say something.

 Phil didn't know what to say so he remained silent.

 When Dan closed the door behind him, Phil angrily put his earphones in and turned up the volume. He knew they needed to talk. He knew that not talking it through with Dan was going to be hard for him, that Dan needed to solve conflicts as soon as possible. But right now, Phil was just not up to it.

 ***

 By the time Phil exited out of the game, the sun had set and the living room was lit only by the screen of the TV and the lamps outside. He put down his headphones and stood up, stretching his legs and popping his shoulders.

 He walked through the dark, quiet house to the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. Then he got the cereal out of the cupboard and slowly crunched on it while looking at the window. Putting away the box and rinsing the glass, he slowly walked up to the closed door of the bedroom and lightly knocked.

 “Hm..?” came a muffled response and Phil took it as a yes.

 The bedroom was mostly dark, with only the screen of Dan’s laptop illuminating his face. Dan was sitting in bed, covered in blankets, looking at his screen. Phil waited for a second for him to look up, but Dan seemed to avoid meeting his eyes.

 Phil climbed into bed next to Dan and carefully took the laptop out of his hands and put it on the table.

 "Come here." He put his arms around Dan and pulled him to his chest. Dan’s body melted into Phil and his head rested down on the crook of Phil’s neck in a practiced motion. Sometimes Phil wondered if they were made to fit so well together, or if it was the years that made them connect seamlessly like jigsaw puzzle pieces.

 “I’m sorry for using you as a stress relief sex toy,” Dan mumbled into Phil’s neck and they both giggled.

 “You know I don’t mind, Dan. Sex with you is literally the best thing. It’s just that there’s only so much my dick can take. I’m sorry for implying that you make me do something I don’t want, I’m just tired.”

 Dan looked up to him and in the darkness of the bedroom Phil could almost feel Dan’s sadness.

 “I just want things to be normal again,” Dan whispered.

 “So do I, baby.” Phil pressed their foreheads together. “I miss doing things.”

 “I miss going out on dates,” Dan mumbled.

 “I miss mum,” Phil replied.

 “I miss your mum too,” Dan smiled. Phil pulled him closer.

 “I miss going to the cinema.”

 “I fucking miss Starbucks,” said Dan.

 “I miss Martyn and Corn.”

 “I miss buying you flowers,” Dan whispered almost as though it was a secret.

 “You’re a sap,” Phil chuckled.

 “Shut up. I’m romantic.” Dan paused for a minute. “I love you, you know?”

 “Of course I do, you idiot.”

 “And I know you love me. I really do,” Dan continued.

 “I know that too. It’s gonna be okay.” For some reason Phil felt like crying. Maybe he could get away with it. In the dark no one would know. 

 “Can we have sex now?” he asked. “My dick has rested plenty,”

 The ‘I’m sorry it’s hard’ and the ‘let me love you’ and the ‘let me show you how much I adore you’ was left unsaid, but Phil knew Dan heard it.

 “Well, Phil, while you were sulking upstairs I wanked like 4 times, so I don’t think I can get it up right now.” 

 Phil chuckled. “Is that a challenge?”

 Dan placed a wet kiss on Phil’s lips and snaked his hand to squeeze Phil’s butt.

 “I believe it is, Mr. Lester.”

 “Bet you pizza that I’ll get you hard as rock in 10 minutes so you can fuck me,” said Phil, pressing kisses to the spot on Dan’s neck he knew would drive him crazy.

 “Aren’t you cocky,” replied Dan, pulling Phil’s shirt off of him and nipping his ear.

[helloalycia]

it matters // mason weaver

summary: communication was never mason weaver's strong suit, and it may just be the reason for your relationship's demise.

warning/s: mentions of drowning and implied death.

author's note: i don't know what this is lmao i'm sorry, it's literally been in my drafts for a year

masterlist | wattpad

"Do you even love me, Mason?" I asked, my voice hard and impatient.

"Does it matter?" she retorted, exasperated.

My expression softened hopelessly. "It's the only thing that matters. At least, to me it is. I guess I was wrong for thinking it mattered to you, too."

I turned around, swallowing down the lump in my throat because I was adamant on not shedding a tear in front of this girl who didn't seem to give a shit about me.

"Y/N, wait," she called, soon grabbing my arm and pulling me towards her.

"I don't have time for this anymore," I snapped, yanking my arm away from her grasp. "This constant back and forth. You don't care, Mason. You've made that much obvious."

Her hazel eyes darted between mine, lost and trying to keep up with my words. I hated that I couldn't stop admiring how beautiful she looked, even when she was unknowingly breaking my heart.

"I do care," she said, surprising me with her certainty. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"That's funny," I said, smiling dryly, "since that's all you've managed to do."

She frowned, her jaw clenching.

"I've gotta go," I said, breaking our eye contact. "I should check on Brooks' injuries."

She didn't try to stop me this time, as I turned around and walked away from her, trying my very hardest to ignore the ache in my chest.

Houston Brooks, my fellow geologist and researcher on the trip, was sat on a tree trunk, messing around with the bandage on his shoulder when I approached him. He caught my gaze, obviously about to admit defeat and ask for my assistance, but my face must have looked dreadful since his expression softened.

"Come on, I'll replace your bandage," I said, sitting beside him and grabbing some bandages from the rucksack beside us.

"What happened?" he asked, forgetting about his injury.

I shook my head, focusing on removing his bandage. He'd got a piece of shrapnel stuck in his shoulder from the helicopter crash, and since moving to the Iwi natives camp that Marlow showed us, we were able to properly take a look at it. Thankfully, there wasn't too much damage, but at this rate, if we couldn't get home soon, he could get a serious infection.

"It was Weaver, wasn't it?" he continued, making me swallow the lump in my throat. He seemed to take this as confirmation, as he sighed. "I knew she was trouble. You always looked so upset around her. Surely she can't think she can just waltz onto this expedition and hurt you like she is."

"I'm okay, Brooks," I told him, forcing a small smile. I finished replacing his bandage and sat back. "I'm keeping my distance. She's made herself very clear. I need to forget her and focus on trying to survive through this."

Brooks nodded, resting a hand on my lap and squeezing my knee gently. "It sucks. I'm sorry. I wish I could do something."

"It's minor compared to that," I said, nodding to his shoulder. "And to everything happening right now. It's stupid and I shouldn't get caught up on it. We might not even make it off this island and I'm crying over a girl. It's dumb."

"You're only human," he reasoned. "You're focusing on the less stressful things in times of panic. It's normal."

"Well, not anymore," I told him, standing up and clearing my throat. "Come on. I think we can help Conrad with the boat."

Brooks nodded and stood up, giving me a small supportive smile. I appreciated his kindness, returning the smile. The two of us headed through the camp, passing the many Iwi natives who were kind enough to let us ride it out here until we got our shit together.

Spotting the boat docked that Conrad and Marlow were working on, the two of us approached it, myself ready to accept the distraction. Only, that immediately backfired when a blonde head poked over the edge of the boat, staring across at me.

"You sure you'll be okay?" Brooks asked, glancing at me with a raised brow.

I nodded, licking my lips and straightening up. "Yeah. We gotta work together if we're to get out of here, right?"

"Right," he agreed, but he definitely noticed the hesitance in my words. I didn't blame him, because he was right.

As soon as my eyes locked with Mason's deep brown ones, I knew I was screwed.

–

"You're pretty quiet back here, everything okay?"

I looked up, tearing my eyes from the river, and saw Conrad watching me with a concerned expression.  

"Yeah, I'm just thinking," I said, before looking back out to the river we were sailing down.

Conrad invited himself to sit beside me. "We should reach Packard's location soon. Then we can get the hell out of here."

I nodded, leaning in the palm of my hand on my knee. "I know."

I could feel Conrad's eyes boring into the side of my head, so I turned and met his gaze, wondering what he wanted really.

"I don't want to pry, but I've noticed the... tension, let's say, between yourself and Weaver," he spoke quietly, since the boat was small and Mason was sat literally a few feet behind us. "I don't know either of you very well, but I feel like you have history."

"It's nothing," I assured him, though I didn't sound very convincing.

I looked back out to the river, absentmindedly following the way the water would flow towards the boat and lap against the wood with a gentle splash.

"You're in love with her," he spoke gently, certainly.

I clenched my jaw, annoyed because he was right. "I don't want to be."

"She's in love with you, too. We can all see it. She wants to be with you."

I shook my head, squeezing my hand into a fist to contain my anger. "She doesn't know what she wants. That's her problem."

Conrad sighed. "I think she knows. She's just bad at communicating it."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't need to make excuses for her."

He chuckled. "I can see that. You seem to have your mind all made up about her."

I didn't respond, instead opting to glare out at the water. He patted me on the shoulder before standing up and leaving me to my corner of the boat. I stayed there for the remainder of the journey to the other side of the island, until we had to get off so we could find Packard and the others.

"He should be here...," Conrad mumbled with agitation, looking around at the clearing where we had docked our boat.

"He could still be walking towards us," Mason said, before nodding to the trees. "Let's meet him halfway."

Conrad seemed unsure at first, looking between where we were stood and the trees ahead. But finally, he nodded and looked to us all.

"Everyone okay with that? Whoever wants to wait here can wait," he said, looking between us.

Nobody spoke, so he took that as an okay. His eyes lingered on Brooks before he moved forward and took the gun off him. He turned to me and held it out. I accepted it, though a puzzled expression was on my face.

"No offence, but you're most likely to shoot one of us than an enemy," Conrad explained to Brooks, who agreed with embarrassment. Conrad looked to me questioningly. "You alright using that?"

"As good as the average person is at shooting a rifle, yeah," I said, pulling the strap over my head and holding the gun to my chest.

"Er, Conrad, is that the best idea?" Mason spoke up, stepping forward and looking between him and I.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as Marlow jumped up and down beside us, stopping anyone from answering.

"Are we going or not? The longer we wait, the less time we have to get out of here!" he shouted impatiently.

"He's right," Lin, my other colleague and fellow biologist said. "I don't like this one bit, but we need to find the others so we can leave."

Conrad nodded, giving me a look of encouragement before looking to an uncertain Mason. "She'll be fine. Hopefully she won't have to use it. Now come on. We've got to find Packard."

He didn't wait for her to respond, as he raised his own gun before leading us all forward. Mason, who was trying to find my eyes with her own, stayed standing until I breathed out and walked right past her, ignoring the goosebumps on my skin as my arm brushed hers.

The air was tense as we followed Conrad through the trees, our attention dead set on our surroundings. The last time we voyaged this forest without concern, we lost a member of our expedition and one of Packard's soldiers. Kong and the Skullcrawlers weren't the only threats to us.

As we were creeping through the trees, Conrad raised his hand suddenly, making us all halt in our stance. It took a few seconds, but then I heard it. The crunching sound, like feet on sticks and leaves. It was hard to tell whether it was from people or predators, and my heart pounded in my chest the longer we waited.

Conrad waved his hand back, signalling for us to back up slowly. I realised I was holding my breath out of fear when I struggled to move at first. Gulping in a deep breath, I took a few steps back, lowering my gun and following Conrad's orders.

The crunching noise stopped, making us all pause. I looked around, trying to make out a figure or shadow of whatever was ahead of us, but I couldn't see anything. It was just trees and foliage disguising whatever was there.

A clicking noise sounded loudly before us and I stepped back out of habit, as someone stepped out in front of us. Mason, who was stood beside me, stepped back, too, but was still stood in front of me, her arm held out over me protectively. It was ironic, since I was the one armed with a gun and she only had her camera.

"Packard," Conrad breathed out with relief, lowering his gun and guard.

I released the breath I was holding and stood up straight when I saw it was just Packard and his men. Mason lowered her arm and glanced at me with concern, but I merely rolled my eyes and stepped away from her. She had no right.

–

"Weaver!"

My heart dropped when I heard Conrad yelling for Weaver, his voice strained with concern. I followed his gaze and saw Mason landing in the water, falling from the crumbling cliff she was stood on.

"No... no...! Mason!" I shouted, tears blurring my vision.

Fuelled by pure adrenaline, I raced towards the water, convinced I would do anything I could to get her back. She wasn't going to die like this, she couldn't!

By the time I reached the bank of the river, I stopped, looking up at the vast ape before me – Kong. The beast's eyes looked down to me and I felt my heart beating erratically in my chest. He kneeled down, stretching his hand out, to reveal Mason. I held my breath out of fear and amazement, watching as he lowered Mason onto the ground, before he stood up and walked away.

Not hesitating a second longer, I dropped by Mason's side and scanned her face, seeing the lifelessness she possessed. I leaned down, ear to her face, hoping to feel her breath from her nose, but I wasn't sure I could feel anything at all.

"No, no, come on, Mason, you have to wake up," I begged, swallowing hard before beginning the process of CPR.

I did three chest compressions before giving her mouth to mouth. As I returned to the chest compressions, I felt my own chest squeezing together and my stomach curling up in pain. I wasn't prepared for the worst, and I was terrified it was coming.

I breathed air into her mouth again, before returning to the chest compressions.

"Don't leave me," I got out between sobs, eyes glued to hers in hopes she would open them. "Not like this, Mason."

I leaned down and gave her mouth to mouth again, only to feel her shudder beneath me. I moved back and watched as she spluttered carelessly, trying to breathe, but unable to because of the water in her lungs.

I helped her sit up, making it easier for her to cough out the water. I patted her back gently as she did, trying to blink out the rest of my tears so my vision was clearer.

"You're okay," I told her, smiling with relief. "You're okay. Just take your time."

She took some deep breaths carefully, clutching onto me tightly as she tried to regain herself. Her eyes found mine and I thanked God there and then that He brought her back to me. I didn't want to ever live another day without looking into her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

She looked overwhelmed, her skin pale and her wet hair stuck to her forehead, but she still looked beautiful. And I knew why she was apologising.

"Forget that," I told her, pulling her in for a hug. I closed my eyes, squeezing her tightly, afraid she'd be gone if I let go.

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me close and nodding slowly. We pulled away when we heard Kong roaring in the distance, beating his chest loudly and shaking the ground. The two of us looked out, past the river, seeing him retreating back into the forest.

"He saved your life," I said, my voice shaking. "And you saved ours." I looked to her, to see she was already looking my way. "Thank you."

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She still seemed startled at the fact that she almost drowned.

"You can't leave me like that," I said, shaking my head and squeezing her hand gently. "Please don't leave me."

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead before pulling me into her arms. I accepted the hug, closing my eyes as I realised that no matter what happened between us, I'd always come back to her.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I should have said it. It matters."

"I know you do." I pulled away, meeting her glassy eyes. "I know."

She smiled regretfully. "I should have said it."

"You just did," I told her, returning the smile, though it was with a heavy heart. "I love you, too, Mason."

She continued to smile, nodding her head as more tears rolled down her cheeks. I pulled her back into my arms, knowing we'd have to get up and get to the boat any minute. But not right now.

Right now, I had her back and that was enough.

[one-spidey-boii]

BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch seven

read ch six here

masterlist

an; you guys, i hit 100 followers. that’s crazy. 100 may seem like a bitch ass number compared to other accounts, but i couldn’t be more proud. thank you!! i hope you continue to enjoy this story and leave feedback.

warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), future smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!

word count; 5.1k+

edie's pov

i tried to help peter clean up, but he wasn't having any of it. so i was left to my own devices while he scrambled to get everything in order. after he leaves the room for the first time, i try to stand up. i wrap the blanket around my body and move towards to edge of the bed. everything is going just fine until i put weight onto my legs and attempt to take a step. my feet crumble beneath me and i snap a hand up to my mouth to stifle any noise that threatens to come from the pain. so for a while, i just sit. on the floor. waiting for peter to come back.

when footsteps sound off from down the hall, i brace myself for whatever reprimand i'm going to get from peter, but what comes through the door makes me sigh with relief and choke up with fear. not the kind of fear you get from jump scares or creepy noises, but the kind of fear you get when you know you've been a disappointment.

"what the hell are you doing on the floor?" tony asks as he waltzes over to help me up. his voice is unreadable. i let him wrap an arm around my upper back and lift me up onto the bed, but i'm too afraid to say anything. he pulls a chair over to sit in front of me and he rests there awaiting an answer, but i choose to avoid it altogether.

"where's peter?" i ask shyly. yeah, it's a good way to change the topic, but a part of me really does want to know.

tony raises one eyebrow and pauses to take in my features before replying, "i told the kid to stay out of the room until i got here. he's sitting in the living room like a lost puppy."

my head tilts at his words. why would he do that? wouldn't he want peter here with me?

"i wanted to talk to you without mr. parker in the room. and when i ask you this- i don't want you to think about him when you answer, got it?" i nod my head reluctantly, and he continues on with a sigh, "kid, do you wanna go home?"

"w-what? no! absolutely not." my insides tense up at the thought of being sent home after only a couple of weeks. mr. stark said he needed me here, why is he trying to send me home?

"just listen to me, okay? you've already gotten hurt for reasons i don't understand. and... i gotta be honest- i don't want to send you home, but i don't want you going back out there either."

"what happens to peter if you send me back?" my question comes out as a whisper, i want to challenge him somehow. surely he won't take this away from peter too. tony just sighs and shakes his head.

"don't worry about him right now. what we need to talk about is if you're-" i cut him off.

"you're going to send him home too." i accuse, borderline horrified at the idea, "how could you do that? you know how much this means to him." i take in a sharp breath of air as pain shoots up and down my side. it's silent for a few seconds.

"i don't want any of that. who else am i gonna have to protect all my toys?" he asks with a playful smile, but i know he's still hesitant about all of this, "i'll cut you a deal, alright?" i nod, "you don't go out until you are one hundred percent healed up. let peter handle all that. and i'm making happy stay here until you're ready to patrol again."

i immediately shake my head in protest, "happy hates babysitting! don't make him do that!" i plead, trying to pull the guilt card for happy's sake- and to be honest, i don't want anyone worrying about me and watching over my shoulder until i'm better, "peter can look after me. he got me this far." i say lightly, trying to make the situation a little less of a bummer.

tony takes in my features again, analyzing my words. he brings his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose, but to my luck he eventually nods his head.

"fine, fine. but you'll keep me updated on your recovery and only go out again when i say so, alright?" he bargains once again. this time i take his deal and nod my head with a smile. tony slaps his knees once and stands up.

"now lay back down and rest, young lady. i'll be expecting an update when you get up." tony says with a playful twinge to his words, but i know he's completely serious. before he's entirely out of the room, my mouth begins to move before i even realize it, "you know, peter does take good care of me."

i don't know why i just said that.

tony stops by the door and takes once last look around the room, "yeah, yeah," he pauses, "i know he does." and with that, he's gone.

-

it didn't take me long to fall asleep after mr. stark left. my body was tired and weak after working to heal as fast as it could. if only i was peter and i could heal on my own.

when i wake up, i panic slightly when i can't see anything. the light of the room is subdued and i can't even make out the ceiling above me. i move a hand to my face to find a piece of paper. it's taped to my forehead and covers my entire face. i peel it off and take in the messy handwriting scrawled across the page.

'left for patrol. mr. stark said to set out some fancy healing cream for you. it's next to your bed. he also said to leave it on for 5 minutes at most cause blah blah i don't remember why. be back before you know it -peter'

at the end of the note by his name, there's a faint 'x' next to it. the letter had been hastily erased, but my stomach jumps at the gesture. i wish he didn't feel like he had to erase it.

i fold the note carefully and set it on the cart next to my bed, next to that is the cream i assume he was talking about. i look over the text on the tube and read the directions. on the back it says something about enhanced cell regeneration, remove after five minutes, and does not diminish the appearance of scars.

i swallow thickly, nervous about applying this weird stuff to my skin. my fingers slowly twist the cap open and i squeeze a small amount onto my hand. the cream is clear and almost jelly-like as i rub it along my side. it stings at first, making me inhale with clenched teeth, but almost instantly it numbs my entire side along with my hand.

i'm afraid to keep it on my hand so i hop out of the bed and walk over to the sink to wash it off. only then does it occur to me that i hopped out of bed and walked over here. thank goodness for tony stark and his high tech, well, everything.

looking in the little mirror above the sink, i take in my tired appearance- complete with bags under my eyes and sunken cheeks. it's hard to look at myself this way, i have never fallen so low. i have never been hurt so badly before.

i just rest my now wet hands against the sides of the sink and let my head drop. i take notice i'm still in my bra and underwear, but since i'm alone at the moment i'm not worried about being seen. my cheeks do flush at the idea of peter seeing me this way, clad only in a dark purple bra and mismatched pale blue underwear.

after what feels like five minutes, i grab a hand towel and wet it under the running water of the faucet. the numbing properties of the cream are working surprisingly well- i don't feel anything as i wipe it away and wash it off.

still, my heart drops at the sight of the scar, now partially healed, but still red and angry. the line of it is jagged and violent looking. with hesitant fingers i run them along the length of it. it's horrible and ugly and for the first time in a long time- i feel ashamed. i now have to sport a scar for the rest of my life, one that i never saw coming.

i force myself to look away and tuck my hair behind my ears. my hair is riddled with sweat and it sticks to my neck, making me yearn for a shower. i let my feet carry me to the bathroom connected to my room. there i make the decision to take a bath instead when i spot the bubble bath under the sink.

after preparing everything, i slide my remaining clothes off and slip into the hot water of the tub. the bubbles are already everywhere and they easily cover the surface of the water. i close my eyes and let out a sigh.

my thoughts drift to peter, and i let myself think of him. i know something is going on inside his head, and i know it's because of me. it tugs on my heart every time he avoids or ignores me even during the slightest of encounters. i never wanted our friendship to turn into this and it bugs me beyond belief that i can't figure out why it's happening.

my eyes shoot open when i hear my name being called throughout the compound, followed by the sounds of something crashing. i sit up in the water and wait for it to stop sloshing around so that i can listen closer.

"edie?! oh my god mr. stark is going to kill me. i'll be dead by morning- edie! where are you?" it's peter, and from what i can tell he's freaking out, obviously. i let out a sigh of relief and call out to him.

"i'm in my room! it's okay, peter." the loud noises stop at my bedroom door.

"oh thank goodness. c-can i come in?" he asks, out of breath. i take in my current position— very naked and taking a bath; but covered completely by bubbles.

still a little hesitant and increasingly nervous, i call out again, "uh yeah. come in."

before the last words leave my mouth, a loud crunch and thud comes from the front of my room. i can barely see it through the crack of the bathroom door, but i know something is broken. it's silent for a hot second.

"um. oh yikes. i, uh, broke your door. not on purpose though! but it is, uh, not on the hinges anymore." he utters nervously. i can't help but laugh.

"what? who knew you were sooooo strong!" i tease, stretching out the words. some shuffling comes from my room.

"wait, where are you? what's going on?" his confused voice make me giggle. ew, giggle? really? i stifle the thought and take on a serious face.

"i'm in the bathroom, parker. stop freaking out." i reply, not at all annoyed despite my words and tone.

the shuffling behind the door stops, "you're pooping? and talking to me at the same time?" peter asks hesitantly. okay, now i’m annoyed.

"no you dipshit, im taking a bath. and everyone poops by the way, there's a children's book about it!" i yell. most of the time his innocent demeanor is endearing, but right now it's just making both of us uncomfortable.

suddenly the door creaks open wider and peter pops his head in the room, one hand covering his eyes. he still has his mask on and i roll my eyes. what is it with this boy and wearing his mask all the time?

"i just wanna make sure you're okay...a-are you okay?" he asks with a shaky voice. i can't help but smile at how nervous he is, but then again, so am i.

clearing my throat, i speak, "you can move your hand. i'm covered by, uh bubbles." peter slowly parts his fingers and peeks at me through them.

"hi." he whispers from the door.

"hi, peter." i whisper back.

he lowers his hand down to his side and steps completely into the spacious bathroom. he shuffles for a moment and decides on leaning against the doorframe with one arm up by his head. i eye him up and down, trying to get a feel for what is going through his head. he looks ridiculous standing in my bathroom, still clad in his spiderman suit that clings to his body like a second skin. it outlines the muscles in his arms, chest, and legs- truly not leaving much to the imagination. i feel my cheeks flush.

then for the second time that day, words are coming out of my mouth without my permission, "do you wanna sit?" i pull my hand out from beneath the water and tap the edge of the tub. the eyes on peter's mask widen and his arm slips from its position on the door frame. i just smile at him, despite my brain kicking me for saying anything at all.

to my surprise, he nods and settles himself on the edge of the tub down by my legs.

he whispers again, "hi."

a rush of heat floods my body at his new position and it's my turn to stutter, "hi." i'm suddenly all too aware of just how naked i am, only a thin layer of bubbles separating peter's eyes from seeing every bit of my body. and a tiny part of me doesn't hate the idea. an even smaller part wonders if peter is thinking the same thing.

"i'm glad you're okay." he says, a soft confidence laced within his words. his hand comes up to rest by my shoulder on the tub, just barely touching my skin. i nod my head and look down at the suddenly very interesting bubbles. i forgot that peter was the one who caught me when i fell in through the doors. he was the one to take care of me while we waited for mr. stark to arrive. he was the one who had to watch me bleed. with that thought, i look back up at him and gently rest my head on his hand, happy to find his eyes on mine.

"take your mask off peter." i whisper, still feeling foggy inside my head.

he shakes his head, "no."

"no?" my eyes widen at his words.

"no, e."

"come on, pete. it's not like i haven't see you before. what's the big deal?" as i say this i lean up in the water and stretch my hand to graze the edge of his mask. just as i'm about to pull it upwards and off his head, peter grabs my wrist roughly and holds it in his hand.

"if i take my mask off, all of this becomes much more real...and i don't want to see you like this." he says and looks away from my gaze. my stomach drops and i pull my hand away from his grip. all the comfort and confidence is instantly replaced with horrible, ugly nerves.

"what do you mean 'like this'? what- you can't look at me now? is it the scar? or is it because i invited you in and god forbid i'm naked under all these fucking bubbles? you didn't have you come in here, parker." my heart hurts and i spit out his name like it's venom on my lips. i can't stop my mind from reeling. peter looks at me and scoffs.

"you really don't get it, do you?" he questions as he stands up from his spot.

i sit up farther in the water, eyes glaring into his, "get what?"

his eyes widen as he rushes to put both his hands on my shoulders, shoving me back down into the water with unnecessary force. my head hits the back wall as water sloshes out of the tub, "for fucks sake, edie, cover yourself up!" his voice booms and i stay put. then it dawns on me. does he think-?

"i wasn't trying to-" i plead but he cuts me off.

"it's not that i don't want- fuck!" he pulls his mask off his head and stares at me with fiery eyes, "i do want to..." then he makes a growling noise that comes from the back of his throat, "what do you want me to say? what am i supposed to think coming in here?" he rambles on. i draw my eyebrows together and sink down into the water even more.

"i wasn't trying anything, peter. i-i'm sorry if you got the wrong idea," i whisper, defeated by how this whole thing is turning out. my head throbs from hitting the wall of the tub and my heart hurts from peter's words.

"yeah. okay, edie. i'll see you in the morning." and with that, he walks out of the bathroom, leaving his mask on the edge of the sink, the eyes glaring back at me.

my vision becomes blurry. just the idea of him thinking those things about me is enough to make me shut down completely. i stand up and step out of the tub, bubbles still clinging to my body. i walk over to the full-length mirror and my eyes lock on the scar. it looks the same as before, ugly, and a single tear runs down my chin.

peter's pov

i'm so unbelievably angry with myself. i can feel every part of my body on fire due to the complete and utter rage coursing through it. when people say they're so angry they see red, they aren't lying. there’s no way to erase what just happened between edie and i. the look on her face and the fast beat of her heart will forever be burned into my head. but above all my anger, that one thing i feel the most, is fear.

the fear i’ve ruined my relationship with edie all together because i'm too much of a coward to speak the truth. the fear that she now sees me as someone who would think those awful and cruel things about her. the fear that she thinks i don't want her just because of a scar.

none of it is true. sitting there, inches from her body made my head spin and my heart jump around my chest. i wanted to touch her, to feel her soft skin underneath my fingers as they danced down her neck and shoulders. instead, i panicked and said things so far from the truth.

i discard my suit and stand in the annoying thong that mr. stark insisted i wear to avoid having a visible panty line. he said it would be more embarrassing to have that than wear a goddamn thong. whatever, it doesn't even matter now. my brain is practically swimming in my head and making me sick to my stomach. i strip completely and prepare myself for a cold shower.

-

the next morning is quiet. i wake up earlier than usual for no good reason. maybe my brain just doesn't wanna give me the satisfaction of sleep. i step out of bed and tug a pair of sweatpants on over my hips along with a white t-shirt over my head. taking a deep breath, i make my way to the kitchen for some sort of breakfast, coming up with toast and a glass of orange juice.

my thoughts drift to edie, probably fast asleep in her bed. i hope she got to sleep last night, after everything that happened. that's the least she deserves.

something in my gut twists and i'm overwhelmed with the need to do something about this shitty situation. i'm fucking tired of walking on eggshells and making things worse, none of this is worth it.

with a deep breath, i allow my feet to carry me across the hardwood floors to edie's room with a glass of orange juice in my hand. the door is still off the hinges from when i ripped off accidentally. and there she is, sitting on her bed with a book in her hands. she looks peaceful and for a second it loosens the knot in my chest.

i clear my throat, "orange juice?" i extend my hand with the glass towards her.

her head snaps up and she meets my gaze. with an unreadable expression on her face, she sets the book down in her lap and gently closes the cover. my arm starts to shake from holding it still for too long and i pull it back to my chest. her head tilts the slightest bit at me, her eyes wandering over my body.

i shiver under her watch, suddenly extremely self-conscious about my clothes and my hair and the small pimple forming on my chin and-

"will you go to the store and get me some paint?" she asks, her question throws me off, "i can't stand these blank walls anymore. i'm thinking a soft yellow color will do just fine," she finishes. i bob my mouth like a fish and can only nod my head at her.

before i go to leave the room, she makes one more request, "leave the orange juice?” there is the smallest hint of a smile on her lips, and that’s enough for me.

edie's pov

when peter got back from the store, i had just finished the book i started last night. with no intention of sleeping, i pulled it out of the suitcase i had yet to unpack and got comfortable on the bed. just as i set it down, peter skid to a halt right outside my doorframe.

out of breath, he says, "i got two gallons of paint and a couple of brushes and those wheely things and...uh here." he holds the buckets of paint and bags out in front of him.

i smile at the boy. after last night's events, i've come to a conclusion; everything that happened up to that point was just a weird fluke in our friendship. all the strange feelings and awkward glances could be boiled down to one thing; us being alone in the compound. it was just hormonal teenage tendencies and it's truly nothing to worry about. every one of my feelings were just the result of built up emotions that showed themselves in weird ways. things can go back to normal now.

"thanks, pete. could you help me pull the bed away from the wall?" i chirp at him. for a second it seems like he's frozen in place, then a smile spreads across his face and he lets out a breathy little laugh.

"uh, yeah. of course." he replies and grasps the opposite side of the bed that i'm on. with a simple tug, the frame scrapes across the floor and comes to rest in the middle of the room. we both stand up straight and his eyes meet mine, he smiles wider.

"alrighty, let's get going then, yeah?" i huff out. with that, we each pour out paint into our respective pans and get to work. i take the south two walls and peter claims the north. i find myself enjoying the silence that falls between us.

every once in a while, i feel his eyes on me. i know when the other side of the room is completely silent, he's watching me. it doesn't bother me, i know he must feel bad about last night. that person wasn't peter and i know that. i just hope he'll forgive himself.

when i get to the parts of the wall i can't reach, i drag a stool in from the kitchen to stand on. unfortunately, it isn't enough height to allow me access to the top of the high ceiling. with a huff, i hop down and look around my room for something else to use. peter has turned his attention back to his side of the room and seems to be having a much easier time reaching the top, he’s much farther along than i am too.

after finding nothing else that could help, i climb back up on the stool and stand on my tiptoes, stretching as far as i can, giving me just enough height to get the job done. i smile at my victory and continue with a sense of pride. throughout this whole time, not one thought drifted to the scar on my side.

peter's pov

she looks beautiful, her frame stretching to reach the remaining white spots on the wall. i just finished the first coat on my side of the room when i set my paint roller down and stand back to admire her. the cotton fabric of her shirt is riding up her side, showing enough skin to let me see a part of her scar. i haven't seen it since it was first being mended back together by the fancy laser pen. it looks a lot better than it did, without the blood and all.

yet, it's still hard to look at. the line of it stretches along a good portion of her body. the marred skin still red and bruises are starting to form around the edges. my mind flashes back to the feeling of her in my arms when she collapsed, then to the sight of her in the tub. two contrasting events that made my feelings for her change.

edie's pov

"gotcha bitch!" i yell in triumph as i finally reach a part of the wall i was working on longer than i'd like to admit. the victory doesn't last long though as i survey the remaining sections of white. hiding my annoyance, i hop off the stool and move it to a new area, heart set on staying positive during these...trying times.

i'm back to painting for a few minutes and the other side of the room has gone silent again. i try to hide the small smirk that creeps along my lips, knowing what the silence entails. i know i vowed to forget everything that happened last night, but i'm growing to like the new attention from peter, whatever it may mean. i continue painting.

warm fingers brush against my exposed side and my body flinches at the contact, causing the wandering fingers to pull back. i squeeze my eyes shut and lower my hand holding the paintbrush. i don't want to turn my head. i don't want to move at all, but knowing the fingers belong to peter gives me a sense of relief, he's just curious. so i let him be.

peter slowly lifts my shirt ever so slightly and places one finger at the top of my scar, right under my ribcage. he drags it down along the jagged line, slow enough i'm not even sure it’s actually happening. his fingers feel nice on my hot skin, making my body shiver. he continues to run a single finger around the outline of the wound. every time he reaches my hip, his touch lingers just the tiniest bit longer.

this is okay. he's just curious. it isn't scary, it's...nice.

when he presses his lips to my skin, my heart explodes. i want to stop him, to tell him he doesn't have to do this. he doesn't have to touch me this way. i don't want him to touch me this way.

oh, but that would be a lie.

"peter..." i whisper, hands shaking along with my legs that still stand on the stool.

he trails soft, wet kisses down my side and hums a 'yes' at the sound of his name. each kiss is placed delicately on the edge of the scar, following the sharp line of it.

"what are you...?" i trail off when he lets out a soft hush between kisses. my head is reeling and my heart is beating faster than i ever thought possible. once peter reaches my hip, i force myself to slowly turn my body towards him. he's now eye level with my torso and i tentatively slide my fingers through his soft hair. he tilts his head up to look at me with his warm brown eyes. he wraps his arms around my body hesitantly and rests his hands on the small of my back.

"hi." he whispers sheepishly.

i let out a sound that can only be described as a sad laugh that got caught in my throat. i'm simply beyond words as i just stare down at the sweet boy with the widest, brightest smile i can manage. he breaks our gaze and peppers more kisses across my stomach. his touch is so gentle, so soft and careful.

"so so beautiful," he mumbles each word between every perfectly placed kiss. his lips linger in all the right spots, igniting a fire in my belly- among other places. the feeling is intoxicating. he is intoxicating. i want more. more of him and his sweet words.

i grab his fingers and thread them through my own. his lips break away from my skin and he peers up at me again, the smallest smile on his face. he takes my hands and wraps them around his neck, then he does something that throws me off my feet, literally. his hands slide down my body to take hold of my thighs and with one quick motions he lifts my feet off of the stool, making a gasp rise from my throat. peter lowers me down to his level and taps my legs with his fingers, whispering a soft come here, prompting me to wrap them around his waist.

i suck in a deep breath, staring into his dark eyes, "what is going on?" i ask in disbelief. he lets out a deep chuckle and kisses my forehead as he simply shakes his head. i furrow my brows at him.

he carries me over to the bed, still in the middle of the room and sits down on the edge, holding me tight in his lap. i'm in awe at his strength. and the way he treats me like the most precious thing in the world. peter leans forward and rests his forehead against mine. after a few long seconds, he whispers gentle words against my lips,

“i’ve wanted to do this ever since we got to this stupid compound.”

|| taglist; @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @whycantileaveyou @lovewolfspirit @kitykatnumber

let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist :))

[shhh-no-ones-home]

creature of the night* vinny mauro x reader

+++++++++ Watching the Rocky horror picture show together for the first time

sorry this took me so long to put out holy shit. i will have another smut shot posted soon, i have to edit it still. enjoy none the less

* - shes here

Song: like lovers do by hey violet

tag list: @thisplace-ishaunted @alilpunkrock @ryansitkowskiswifey @theoneandonlykymberlee @svintsandghosts @cynic-spirit +++++++++

I came back into the room holding a bag of popcorn and falling into the couch where I had been before. I had invited Vinny over to watch a movie and picked one of my personal favorites: the Rocky horror picture show. I tossed a piece of the popcorn into my mouth before handing vinny the bag.

"I still can't believe you've never seen this. You're twenty five for fucks sake. Hell I've been watching this movie since I was like eleven."

He crunched on the popcorn and shrugged at me.

"It was just never of any interest. you know I'm into more nerdy things. Like star wars."

I laughed a little, taking the bag back from him and tossing a few kernels into my mouth.

"Well yeah, so am I but it's a classic! I have like all the songs down pat, some of the dances too."

I looked over at him and he was shaking his head.

"Oh I'm well aware, remember, you were performing a few of them backstage last tour. I have the videos to prove it."

I smirked at him and tossed some of the popcorn his way.

"I thought I told you to delete those. If there's one thing I don't need it's the internet seeing me singing and dancing to the time warp very shittily."

He laughed at me as he picked the kernels off his shirt and ate them.

"Oh no, I'm keeping those forever, ya know for my own enjoyment. And maybe I'll just have to take more, you've already been singing along to some of the songs."

I nodded once very proudly.

"Yes I have. The most embarrassing one is coming up though, it's hilarious."

He sent me a look.

"I feel like I should be scared."

I laughed and shook my head.

"Don't be."

We both turned our attention back to the movie. I was right, it really was a super awkward part of the movie. I sat and watched in agony as "toucha toucha" came on, cringing but singing along anyways.

"I was feeling down and- couldn't win. I'd only ever kissed before-"

I paused and laughed a little bit.

"Hah, same."

I said, continuing singing. Then Vinny looked at me.

"Wait really?"

I looked at him and shrugged as I continued to act out the scene from my spot on the couch.

"Toucha toucha toucha touch me!"

I mocked Columbia's voice, standing up and dancing around. Vinny just laughed at me.

"You are something else."

"I wanna be dirty!"

I sang, mocking the actors, walking around the living room. Vinny just watched me with a wide smile on his face. When the song ended I breathed heavily from dancing and laughed.

"Damn I think I need a drink now, you want something?"

I said walking towards the kitchen as the scene changed. He didn't answer me so I figured no, but as I reached for a cup he announced himself and scared me.

"Have you really never had sex?"

I let out a short laugh.

"Yeah? What about it?"

He crossed his arms over his chest as he stood in the door way.

"I don't know I guess I just find it hard to believe. You're always making jokes and flirting around and stuff like you've had practice."

I shrugged, taking a drink.

"And what's wrong with that? I mean I've always kinda wanted to but I've never been in a serious relationship long enough to get there. You know, I'm not a one and done kinda person."

I walked a little further away from the fridge and leaned against the table. He nodded in understanding.

"What if it was with a friend?"

I laughed a little but stopped when I realized his serious expression didn't break.

"Wait, you can't be serious. Vinny youre my best friend."

He shrugged, walking slowly to me.

"What's wrong with that? Friends sleep together all the time. And it's not like we don't have a connection already. Come on, you can't tell me you haven't thought about it. Specially not with the way you flirt."

He practically towered over me. I felt kind of small in that moment. He was right though. I had thought about it being him many times and kinda sorta really wanted to do it. He looked deep into my eyes before slamming his lips into mine. It took me completely by surprise, causing me to drop the hard plastic cup I was holding; Water went everywhere.

"Shit!"

I said pulling away. He looked down at our now soaked pants. He shrugged.

"Guess now we have to take them off..."

He smiled at me and I laughed, face planting lightly.

"Can't argue with that."

I said, peaking up at him between my fingers. He was grinning from ear to ear. When I moved my hand down to my chest he leaned forward and kissed me a little more hungrily. My hand slowly made its way into his soft hair as we made out. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist before lifting me up onto the table. I pulled away from him, placing a hand firmly against his chest. He went in for another kiss though.

"Wait."

I breathed out and he paused, still being severely close to me.

"What's wrong?"

He looked between my eyes with a concerned look on his face. I swallowed hard.

"Don't be rough."

I squeaked out and he smiled at me, kissing me gently.

"I'll do whatever you want."

I nodded.

"Thanks vin."

He leaned in and kissed me once reassuringly. He looked between my eyes for guidance before kissing me again and again, building back up. As we started making out again I felt his hands travel around my waist and pop the button on my jeans. Neither of us stopped kissing as I did the same to him, feeling him push his pants down. When he actually pulled away he kicked them completely off, coming back to help me with mine. I laughed a little bit as he pulled them down my legs.

"Is something funny?"

He said amused and I nodded.

"Yes, just, all of this is hilarious to me."

I confessed, hearing the movie still playing in the background. he kissed me quickly.

"Well I hope you enjoy yourself the whole time, not just this now."

I nodded.

"Oh I think I will."

I winked at him and he smirked at me, moving to pull his shirt off. I inhaled sharply. I know id seen him without it before but he must have been working out since I'd seen him last cause hot damn.

"Like what you see?"

He said a little cocky and I bit my lip, nodding slowly.

"I'm glad to hear that."

He leaned forward and kissed my neck. I stiffened at the contact but relaxed as he kissed along my jawline, pulling at my shirt too to get it off. When it was gone he was quick to pull me to the edge of the table. He began kissing me slowly, running his fingers lightly down my body. I hummed into his mouth as he ran his hand across my thigh. He pulled away and looked me in the eyes.

"Is it alright if I touch you?"

I nodded and he moved his hand closer to my core. i leaned in.

"Can I touch you?"

He smiled at me.

"Of course you can."

I hesitated for a second before sliding my hand in his boxers and running my hand over him. He groaned low in his throat as I began to pump him lightly. I watched him close his eyes as he leaned into my touch.

"Vinny?"

I watched his face.

"Yeah?"

He sighed out before opening his eyes and kissing me again.

"You're doing great baby."

I let go of him as he moved his hand, running his thumb up me over my panties. I opened my legs a little wider as he moved them to the side and circled my clit, making me moan.

"You're so wet already."

He said quietly, moving back down to kiss and suck at my neck. I ran my hands up his arms slowly and along his shoulder. I dropped my head back.

"I want you so bad vin."

I sighed out. He removed his thumb from my clit and replaced it with one of his fingers, running it down my folds and pushing it into me. I moaned at the feeling. He pulled away from me.

"Are you ready?"

I nodded.

"Please."

He pulled his finger out of me and pulled me closer to him, pushing his boxers down. We both looked down as he ran his tip up my folds and against my clit. I moaned loudly before he lined himself up with me and pushed into me slowly. I clenched my jaw at the feeling. He looked back up at me.

"You okay?"

I nodded quickly, trying to convince myself more-so than him.

"Yeah just go slow."

He kissed my forehead and began pulling out slowly, he got halfway before pushing back into me. He did that a few times, his hand making its way around my waist to hold me to him. It was starting to feel better at least.

"You can go faster."

I croaked out and he sent me a look.

"You sure?"

I kissed him gently.

"Yeah."

He nodded in response before doing as told and moaning into my neck. I held onto him, pressing my finger tips into his shoulder as he found a good pace. Both our breathing was getting heavier as he pushed in and out of me. When we were both comfortable he reached down and started circling my clit again. I moaned loudly and dropped my head back.

"Vinny."

I sighed out, hearing him grunt in response and look down. He had a hard grip on my hip as he started thrusting quicker, still moving against my clit. I leaned forward again, resting my forehead against his.

"Fuck."

He groaned out.

"Keep going."

I said between breaths, him nodding at me frantically and looking up at me finally. Then he hit something in me, earning a loud high pitched sound from me.

"Fuck!"

I yelled, coming around him. I dropped my arm back against the table to steady myself, letting him go as he pulled out of me. He leaned forward and kissed me hungrily as he pumped himself onto my legs, moaning into my mouth. When he finished he leaned forward, one hand on either side of me and we both just panted together. I ran my hand through his now sweaty hair and kissed the top of his head.

"Thanks for that vin."

He looked up at me before standing a little and hugging me, kissing the side of my head.

"Anything for a friend."

[heartofether]

Episode 4 - Hungry, Hungry Bears TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Please state your message.

[THEME MUSIC AND INTRODUCTION PLAYS.]

VAL

Three-Eyed Frog Presents: The Heart of Ether.

[THEME CONTINUES BEFORE COMING TO A STOP.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. IRENE’S WORK.]

ADEN

[WORRIED] Are you really, really sure that’s a good idea?

IRENE

[SHE HUFFS A SIGH.] Yes.

ADEN

I mean, I just think it’s a bit late to be going out into the woods and such, right? If there’s really is an issue with the trees dying, then, then they should still be dead tomorrow. Not like they’re just going to come back to life overnight. [NERVOUSLY CHUCKLES.]

IRENE

It won’t take long. You said it was just off the trail?

ADEN

[HE SWALLOWS.] Yes, but I’m almost certain nobody else is going to be out.

IRENE

Exactly. It’ll be perfect for me to just get in and out quickly, then go home.

ADEN

But what if they’re not human? [HE PAUSES, THEN, FRANTIC] There are bears out there. You know that, right? Hungry, hungry bears. What if nobody’s there to help you when one of those big-toothed beasts tries to maul you with its massive claws?

IRENE

Look, Aden, if you’re really worried about me going out there, then I’ll bring a radio with me. I hereby promise that if I have any bear-related incidents, I’ll contact you, and then you can call for help before I bleed out and die.

[ADEN NERVOUSLY LAUGHS FOR A FEW MOMENTS BEFORE SPEAKING IN A DEAD SERIOUS TONE.]

ADEN

That’s really not funny, Irene.

IRENE

I won’t go exploring or anything. You have my word. Just in and out, find the problem, and then go home.

ADEN

[HE THINKS FOR A MOMENT.] Fine. Just come back to work tomorrow in one piece, okay?

IRENE

[SARCASTIC] I’ll try my best.

ADEN

Irene!

IRENE

Alright, alright, I’m just messing with you. I’ll be fine.

ADEN

[MUMBLES] If you say so.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[ANOTHER PHONE BEEP.]

[EXT. THE FOREST.]

[THERE IS THE SOUND OF CRICKETS IN THE BACKGROUND, ACCOMPANIED BY THE CRUNCHING OF DIRT AND TWIGS AS IRENE WALKS.]

IRENE

I think Aden worries too much. He’s a sweet guy, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t think this is as big of a deal as he made it out to be. I mean, I’m just looking at some dead branches.

[SHE PAUSES.] There is a reason I chose to do this. Trust me, it’s not because I wanted to wander around in the woods. I tried to record this when Aden came in, but, well, it seems like I always get interrupted when I record in the office.

I need to think, though. There’s a lot on my mind, and I just need someone who will listen without judging me. [MUMBLES] Not that you’re listening, but, it’s not like I have anywhere else.

[THERE’S A MOMENT OF SILENCE AS SHE CONTINUES TO WALK.]

IRENE

I was thinking about what Carol said. Not about how I need friends, but about the person who lived in my house before me. I asked my landlord about it. He said the dude’s name was Bernard Kelly Valencia. [SHE CHUCKLES.] Which is quite the name, isn’t it?

Valencia was—well, to be blunt, he was a strange man. Hardly talked to anyone, but apparently, everyone knew who he was. He hung out a lot with this woman named Dorothy Wood, who I looked up. She actually owns—or, owned—that one bookstore near downtown. Open Eyes Bookstore, or something? Anyways, nobody knows if the two were together or what, but they met up constantly. 

Every time the landlord went over, he said there were papers and books everywhere. If he so much as glanced at any of it, or asked about it, Valencia would flip his shit. Dorothy was there a lot, too. Valencia wouldn’t tell anyone about what they were working on. Neither would Dorothy.

[THERE’S A BRIEF PAUSE. MORE FOOTSTEPS.]

IRENE

He died a couple of years ago from lung cancer. All his stuff went to either his son, the only family member who cared enough to come down and get it, or to Dorothy. She died last year, though.

The house itself must have a reputation, because I even found some people online talking about it. [IN A MOCK GHOSTLY TONE.] Some locals apparently think it’s haunted by Valencia’s ghost. [CHUCKLES, BUT SPEAKS IN AN UNSETTLED TONE] Not sure how I feel about that. 

[A PAUSE.] What were they researching? I mean, I don’t know much about Dorothy, but Valencia seems like he dedicated his whole life to whatever secret work they were doing. It’s weird as hell. Maybe I’ll never know.

I can’t stop thinking about it, though. It’s none of my business, I know, but still.

[HER FOOTSTEPS COME TO A STOP.]

IRENE

This must be the spot. I know you can’t see, because these are audio, not video. Basically, these hikers were worried about this big pile of dead branches, especially because it’s fire season. 

There’s nothing really exciting about it. Just a big pile of dead branches. The surrounding trees seem fine.

Huh. Wonder how they got here. We’ll just have to—

[SHE IS CUT OFF BY THE DISTANT SOUND OF A HORRIFIED SCREAM.]

IRENE

What—Who’s there? [CALLING OUT] Hello?

[FOOTSTEPS AS SHE WALKS IN THE DIRECTION OF THE NOISE. AS SHE CALLS OUT, HOWEVER, THERE IS THE SOUND OF BRANCHES SHIFTING.]

[EERIE MUSIC BEGINS PLAYING.]

IRENE

I swear, I heard someone. [CALLING OUT AGAIN] Hello?

[THE SOUND OF MOVING BRANCHES AND SHIFTING DIRT GROWS LOUDER AS SHE SPEAKS. THERE IS A LOW GROANING. IRENE, SEEMINGLY UNAWARE OF THIS, STEPS BACK TOWARDS THE PILE OF BRANCHES.]

IRENE

No one. That’s odd? Must have just been the…

[SHE IS CUT OFF AS SHE TURNS AROUND, SEEING THE SOURCE OF THE MOVING DIRT NOISES.]

IRENE

…wind.

[SHE IS THEN HEARD RUNNING AWAY. THE GROANING SOUNDS OF WHAT SHE SAW FADE OFF AS SHE RUNS. THE RUNNING STOPS, AND SHE IS HEARD OPENING AND CLOSING HER CAR DOOR.]

IRENE

[OVERLAPPING STATIC] Aden? Aden, are you there? It’s Irene, do you copy, I’m— [MORE STATIC] Shit, shit! [SHE HITS THE RADIO A FEW TIMES.]

[SHE STARTS THE CAR. THE ENGINE IS HEARD FOR A FEW MOMENTS BEFORE SHE SPEAKS.]

IRENE

[EXASPERATED] Oh goddammit, is this still—

[EVERYTHING IS ABRUPTLY CUT OFF BY A PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[TIME SKIP: HALF AN HOUR LATER.]

[ANOTHER PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. IRENE’S CAR AT THE SONIC DRIVE-IN.]

[”EVEN THOUGH YOU ASKED ME TO” BY ROSEMARY ROMANO IS HEARD PLAYING IN THE DISTANCE.]

IRENE

[TIRED] I am now sitting in my car at Sonic, drinking a cranberry slushie. I know, that’s weird, but I wasn’t sure if that…thing was going to follow me. I wanted to go somewhere public, just in case.

Plus, I think I deserve a slushie after what I’ve been through.

Would you even believe me if I told you? Hm. Probably not. Good thing you don’t have to believe me, then, huh?

Well, I heard a scream. [MUTTERS] I swear, if I go back and there’s no scream at all on the recording, I’m gonna—

[SHE TAKES A DEEP BREATH.] I heard a scream. I turned around and, uh, called out a bit, to see if there was anyone in danger. There was nothing, though, and there wasn’t another scream or anything like that. I thought I had just heard it wrong, that it was just the wind or a wild animal.

But then, when I turned around—how do I even begin to describe it? [SHE SPEAKS SLOWLY AS SHE STRUGGLES FOR WORDS] The branches rose up? The forest floor underneath them did, too.

It wasn’t like there was something coming out of the ground, though. No, it was like there was something in the ground that was trying to get out. It looked kind of like bread dough rising? No, that’s not right. Whatever it was swelled like it was alive?

Now that I think about it, actually, there were multiple things in there, throbbing inside of it. Squirming around. It was like a cat under a blanket—or, cats plural, I guess? This big—whatever it was, clearly not just a pile of dirt and branches—rose up, and I swear, this [HER VOICE GLITCHES FOR A SPLIT SECOND] thing didn’t have any eyes, but it was looking straight at me. 

I just ran. What else could I have done? I looked over my shoulder once to see if it was chasing me, but that was it. When I did, it seemed to be moving, though I’m not sure where it was trying to go. It was big. It would have been hard for it to navigate through the trees. 

Unless it could, I don’t know, morph around them? It didn’t seem to have a concrete body or anything. Just one big writhing mass.

[THERE’S A LONG PAUSE.]

IRENE

Don’t know how I’m going to approach Aden tomorrow. “Hey, so there was no bear emergency, but I did almost get killed by a really big pile of dirt that seemed to gain sentience. Why the radio silence, bud?” [SHE CAN’T EVEN BRING HERSELF TO PROPERLY CHUCKLE.]

Should I tell him? I mean, would he even believe me? Can I tell anyone about this? I mean, of course I could tell someone, I sure was more than willing to tell someone who— [SHE STOPS HERSELF.]

[ANOTHER LONG PAUSE.]

IRENE

Maybe I was wrong before. You would believe me, Rose. Right?

[HER VOICE BECOMES SAD AND SMALL.] I miss you so much. I know I’ve said that a lot, but I was so scared. I still am. I don’t know what that was, or if it’s going to come back. I’m at a loss, and I have no one else to go to about this.

I wish you were here. Not just some recording on my phone, but in the car with me. I wish I could hold you. [A WET CHUCKLE.] Actually, I think more than anything, I just need a really long hug. It wouldn’t be the same if it weren’t from you, though.

[SHE PAUSES.]

IRENE

[SHAKILY, AS IF SHE’S ABOUT TO CRY] You know why I think I kept doing these recordings? Why I could never get over you, even after all these years?

[HER TONE BEGINS GROWING IN EMOTION.] Because maybe, if I had gotten an answer, I would have been able to move on. Maybe you had drowned in the lake. Maybe you had gotten a job at a diner in California, with a new name for your new life. Maybe you just found someone else and were too afraid to tell me.

I never got that, though. I never got that closure. One night, you were there, and then the next morning, you weren’t.

And I’ll never know, will I? Because I’m just going to keep denying the truth and telling myself that you still care. That someday, you’ll show up at my doorstep, and like the fool I am, I’ll just let you come in. You won’t even have to tell me where you were these past four years, I promise.

[WEAKLY] ...I promise.

[SHE PAUSES.] But you won’t. You’re never coming home. Because I never really was your home, after all.

[THE SONG COMES TO THE FOREGROUND AS IRENE STOPS TALKING.]

MUSIC

That’s why I stay, that’s why I stay.

[A SHIFTING SOUND BEFORE A PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today’s quote is: “I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone, I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.”

Walt Whitman in “To A Stranger” from Leaves of Grass, 1867.

Are you listening to us? Because we are listening to you.

[THEME MUSIC AND CREDITS PLAY.]

[randomnoteforfuturereference]

The Quarry

This piece is actually part of a larger fic I did a while ago (fic on AO3 is called Quarried Depths, which @kleeklutch helped with during the beta process), but I thought it capable of standing alone as a one-shot. It takes place between “2.3 Meet the Frogs” and “2.4 Hazeapalooza”, when Nursey and Dex... didn’t have the best relationship; this piece specifically takes place right after that scene where Nursey spilled the cereal and milk on Dex (and in this case, on Dex’s laptop as well). It also explores a bit of how Dex looks up to Ransom.

Warning: There’s a first-person depiction of an anxiety attack, as well as unintentional self-harm via scratching.

Anyways, hope y'all enjoy.

---   ---   ---

“There are eight d-men on this team,” I breathe through clenched teeth. “Eight. Coaches could have paired me with any of them. Instead, I have to. Put. Up. With. You.” I punctuate the last few words by prodding a trembling finger into his chest.

I don’t give a damn if Nurse gets the message or not, but a distant tendril of satisfaction blossoms within me when he flinches back. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that something crumples behind those dollar-green eyes of his.

Not bothering to wait for a further response, I turn back and continue on my way.

Nurse doesn’t bother following.

I don’t go back to my dorm. In all honesty, I don’t know where I’m going. I just need to be somewhere without people. Without judgement.

As my feet carry me on my way, the haze of rage begins to ebb and the thrumming gradually quiets. With that ebbing, my brain plays catch up and clarity is restored. With that clarity, two things hit me.

The first is the fact that I had wandered out of campus and into Samwell Park. Not only that, but judging by my vantage point and surroundings, I went past the dam and past any defined trail. I really am in a spot where I won’t be bothered, even with the university visible across the Pond’s surface.

The second thing that hits me is the full weight of what just happened. The possibility that my computer will not survive this. The fact that this fight between me and Nurse was probably the worst that has happened between us. The fact that this blow-up happened in front of the team and much of the school.

That weight settles into my stomach and pulls my insides down with it.

Did you really think you’d make it? He’s right. You don’t fit here. You don’t fit with them.

Did you see their faces? They hate you. And why shouldn’t they? You never say the right thing. They were just being nice before. They were being generous. And now you’ve really blown it.

My skin pulls taut and, as it tightens, it constricts my chest and sends a familiar damn itch all over. Shedding my backpack does nothing to ease that.

Now they are going to tell Hall and Murray. Now the coaches are going to kick you out. Then where are you going to be? Where’s your scholarship going to be? Gone. All that investment. All his investment for you. It’s all going to be gone. You’re going to lose a scholarship and a laptop. All within one semester.

Just because you have to be Billy the Blunder.    

Gasping for air and clawing at my arms, I finally collapse and curl in on myself to weather the storm.

Because that’s what you’re good at. Weathering.

It’s all you’re good at.  

I don’t know how long I lay where I fall. Could be seconds. Could be minutes. Could be hours.

Whatever the case, the storm finally ebbs, and as my breaths slow and even out, I unfurl and lift myself off the forest floor.

All things considered, it was probably one of my worst attacks. I don’t even have to look at my stinging arms to know that I’m going to have to keep my sleeves down for the next few days or so. Easier will be not showing my hands so that nobody can see the little bloody crescents gouged into them.

Just to be sure, I sit on a rock that juts out over the water and go through some of the breathing exercises taught to me. It doesn’t banish completely the tight feeling in my chest, but little by little it loosens things up.

As things loosen up, I take stock of the setting: The clear sunny day with just the a slightest cool breeze. The extreme clarity of the water suggesting that turnover hasn’t happened yet despite the time of the year. The shore terminating in a rocky drop-off with no bottom beyond.

It dimly occurs to me that this spot most likely was a quarry once.

Feeling back in control and getting a good gauge on my surroundings, I get an idea.

I place my laptop in a shaded location where I can see it, strip down to my underwear, use my clothes to make a nest around the computer, inhale a deep breath, and take a leaping dive off the rock.

The briskness of the water is like a sledgehammer to my lungs. It’s a familiar pressure, however, and not unwelcome. As my momentum slows, I release just enough air to allow for a steady descent. The cloud of shimmering bubbles clears to reveal a sight before me. Shafts of dappled light from the noonday sun dance around the pale surroundings and occasionally illuminate the blurry forms of various fish gliding and hovering around in the distance. Unlike the majority of the Pond, which is shallow enough to walk through for a hundred feet without the water reaching your neck, here I’m rendered tiny by the cliff-like wall plunging down to indiscernible depths.

If anything, and despite the very real danger it can pose, the incomprehensible nature of the environment that dwarfs me is a source of comfort. It doesn’t judge. It doesn’t spurn. It doesn’t give a flying fuck where I come from and who I am. It just is and offers a familiar presence that supports and embraces even as the mild protests of my lungs signal for me to kick back up to the surface. That embrace relaxes me in full, and the breath I take upon breaking the surface reinvigorates my body.

I should do this more often.  

As I swim around the surface, the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs breaks me out of that state of calm, and it gives me cause to press close to the edge and reach for a small rock. That is, until the crunching is accompanied by the grumbling of a familiar voice and the flash of a white cap.

“Over here.” I punctuate my call by lobbing the rock into a leaf pile in front of me and pushing off the rocky wall so that I can be seen.

Ransom jumps straight up and lets off a high-pitched yelp — city folk… — before he whips around, does a double-take, and finally focuses on me. After taking a few steadying breaths, he gingerly picks his way towards the edge of the rocky bank. I doubt those loafers, which probably cost as much as everything I had on half-an-hour ago, are made for going through anything rougher than cobblestones. “You’re fucking hard to find, you know that right?”

“Wasn’t planning on being found,” I counter. “How’d you get this far?”

“Left breakfast early, and I saw you stomping southbound along the Pond. Wasn’t too hard to follow your trail — if I had to ask some random witnesses that you passed — until the damn path withered away to nothing after I crossed the bridge by the waterfall,” he grumbles while looking around. “This really is the fucking Forbidden Forest.”

I can see how he may have that impression. The vegetation here’s likely secondary growth, but considering how well-established it is in general and how thick the trees are, it’s really old secondary growth. Perhaps old enough to be non-virgin primary growth. Don’t know the age of Samwell Pond, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s at least a century old. The quarry itself was probably abandoned long before it and the surrounding land was flooded when the dam was built.

“Anyways, took me a while, fuck you very much, but here you are.” He looks me up and down with raised eyebrows. “Didn’t expect this.”

I’m just glad that he didn’t find me while I was having the attack. Still, I scowl back. “What’s so strange? Students play in the Pond all the time, and last I checked the park has a ‘swim at your own risk’ rule.” Then I realize that the water’s clarity means that he can easily see my briefs as I keep afloat. “Also what I have on has nothing on the stuff, or lack thereof, idiots have worn around town.”

Ransom mulls that over and shrugs with a chuckle in acknowledgement. “I’m more meaning that it’s the middle of fall.”

“It’s a nice day.” Possibly the last nice day in a while if the forecast’s correct. “Isn’t Toronto supposed to be around the same temperature?”

He snorts. “You picture me going out for a Halloween plunge in Lake Ontario?”

To my own surprise, I bark out a small laugh. “Guess not.”

Satisfied with my swim, I climb out, shake myself off, and hop back onto the sun-warmed rock to lie down to bask and dry off. I don’t miss that Ransom’s staring at my arms and hands, which I keep balled up. While he thankfully doesn’t say anything specific, he still asks, “Are you going to be alright?”

I give a shrug of my own. “I’ve had worse.” Guess it’s already time to face the music. “So when do I need to clear out my locker?”

“Don’t be dramatic, Dex,” Ransom huffs while kicking his shoes off, plopping down on the ground next to my rock so that we’re eye level, and swinging his feet over the edge. “So you two got in a little tiff. Okay, a major tiff. Still, you should have seen some of the tirades Jack meted out. Especially at Bitty. They got pretty epic.” For good measure, he pops those last few syllables and kicks at the water to send it upwards into a sparkling arc.

“Sure, but I bet they weren’t regular. Let’s face it: there’s no way Nurse and I get along, the other D-men are already paired up, and the team clearly likes him more. Hell, I know I’m good on the ice, but I’m certainly not spectacular like you or Holster. So if I were in charge and had to trim things down,  I’d  bin me first.”

Ransom widens his eyes at my admission, and even I’m a bit surprised how easy it is to say that.

Maybe I really don’t belong here.

“Fuck,” Ransom breathes as he squints at me, “you’re serious aren’t you.”

I just shrug at that. “Don’t want pity, if that’s what you think.” I really don’t. I wouldn’t mind if people here actually managed to see things from my perspective, but there’s no point in being broken up about them not understanding.

That doesn’t mean I’m going to be a doormat if shit’s thrown my way.

Minutes of silence pass between us. Silence that Ransom breaks first: “Two weeks.”

“What?”

“Give your partnership with Nursey two more weeks.” He holds up his fingers for emphasis. “If you both truly think this pairing is a disaster, then I’ll talk to Jack and the coaches to see if we can work something out.”

That’s more than cutting it close if they think something can be worked out before the season really starts getting into the swing of it. I squint up at him. “You really think two weeks will make a difference?”

Ransom shrugs. “It might. Better chance than if we don’t try anything. And seriously…”

“Yeah?”

“You two fit together better than you think.” Ransom doesn’t acknowledge my scoffing but instead holds his hand out. “So do we have a deal?”

“That assumes he wants to stay partners with me.” The image of Nurse flinching back from me plays on repeat, and for some reason my stomach clenches at it.

“I’ll talk to him.”

Like it will do any convincing. Whatever, it’s two more weeks. “Don’t get your hopes up,” I mutter as I shake the offered hand.

Deal settled, the two of us continue staring out at the Pond and university itself in silence once more.

And once more, Ransom disrupts it.

“Dex?”

To my surprise, Ransom’s voice now sounds stilted and hesitant. When I look at him, his face is a neutral mask except for a clear twitching tension within his jaw. Considering the air of confidence he always shows in his casual banter and poise, the unease that he’s radiating makes me sit up and turn towards him. “Yeah? What’s the matter?”

“What did you mean when you told Nursey that he’s ‘given everything’?”

That’s what he’s so conflicted over? “What do you think I meant? Just because Nurse has been swaddled in luxury doesn’t give him the right to lord it over me.” As I’m talking, it dawns on me why Ransom was so apprehensive. “Wait, I don’t have a problem about you and the rest of the team being rich. I don’t have a problem with him being rich. If I hated rich people, I wouldn’t—”

Ransom holds his hand up to stop my rambling. It doesn’t escape my attention the massive exhale that he releases. “It’s okay. It’s o—“ The words die as his brows pinch together. “Wait, no, it’s not okay.”

The backtrack puts me at a loss. “What are you talking about?”

Ransom stares at me, opening and closing his mouth as if he’s ready to say something but holding back. Ultimately he shakes his head and looks away. “Nope. Nah. Not doing this.”

What. “What?”

“Even if I didn’t have a meeting later in the afternoon, I’m not putting myself through this. At least not right now.” I try to ask him to clarify, but he just continues: “Go to the library. Talk to someone willing to discuss with you. Except for Shitty; he’s smart and a great guy with great intentions, but…”

“No fucking kidding…” Nurse is obnoxious enough, but I don’t know what I’d do if Knight was a D-man I had to be paired with. I've been civil and deferential all this time, but I’m not going to go out of my way to be chummy with that lefty-than-thou blowhard.

Ransom must have heard my muttered statement, as he lets off another sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “See, it’s shit like that why the team… nevermind.” He shakes his head. “Look, all I’ll say is that Nursey probably didn’t think you were yelling at him for being rich, and remembering some of the stuff he talked about may help you figure out what I mean. Also there’s a term that I recently learned that might be useful to you: ‘Intent versus Impact’. If you think you got it figured out and want to make sure, then we can talk.”

“But you’re barely giving me anything to figure out!” It’s fucking ridiculous. Why should Nurse get any sympathy from me if I don’t even know what supposedly bothers him?

My protests are answered with a snort. “Like you’ve been forthcoming about yourself.”

Ransom’s disdainful scoff feels like a slap in the face, and I can’t help but reel back a bit.

He must notice my reaction, as his voice softens. “I don’t want you to think I’m unwilling to talk if there’s anything you need help with. But William?” Both the use of my first name and the plea in his voice makes me look up at him. Really look at him to see lines of worry etched into his face. “We’re a team. I’m not saying that you should bare your soul. But we can’t have your back if you shut us out.”

A stiff breeze makes me pull my knees up to my chest.

I don’t need anyone to have my back. I’ve already said what I’ve needed to say. No reason for anyone to go out of their way for me. I did alright before, and I’ll do alright now.

Still, I humor Ransom: “I’ll take that into consideration.”

His raised eyebrow makes it obvious that he doesn’t believe me, and he looks ready to call me out on it. Ultimately he just shakes his head before glancing at my clothing nest. “Anyways, I was just coming to check to see if your computer’s alright.”

At least that’s something straightforward I can talk about. “I need to wait for it to dry first. Then I’ll check if there are any issues.”

“Well, I hope there aren’t any…” That air of pensive awkward settles over him again.

This time, I huff, “If you have something to say, just say it.”

Ransom allows for another minute or so before speaking: “You can’t afford a replacement, can you.”

Is he just figuring that out? “Well technically, I have enough money to buy one…” Really don’t want to elaborate beyond that.

I don’t have to. Ransom wide-eyed stare and the sharp exhale tells me that he's read between the lines. I’m still baffled that he didn’t know, but I’m also beyond thankful that he’s not showering me with platitudes or falling over himself with guilt.

“If it’s truly busted, I’ll see if I can rally the guys to help you replace it.”

“I don’t need your charity,” I growl. I’m completely sincere when I say that I don’t mind that my teammates are rich. But like hell I’m going to let them pay their way into my good graces or buy themselves a pat on the back because they are oh-so-generous. And like hell I’ll let Nurse buy himself out of the mess he made.

Ransom sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose again. “Then don’t think of it like that. Think of it as a team expense to make sure that things run smoothly. After all, the last thing we need is for the loss of your computer to put your academics at risk, which would put your athletics at risk, which would disrupt team dynamics,” he notes while ticking off each stage of the scenario with his fingers and waving them in my face. “So it’s not just about you.”

Well, when he puts it like that, the last thing I need is to be a burden on the team.  And if they— fuck dammit, he’s good.

I take a deep breath. “If, and only if, anything needs to be replaced, it will probably just need to be a part and not a full replacement.” Not to mention that I would need to figure out how to repay them.

Hopefully it won’t come to that. It better not come to that.

For once, Ransom is satisfied with my response and relaxes fully to pipe, “Sure thing! Just let us know.”

“Also… do you think you can refrain from mentioning this spot? I’m not saying to keep it top secret, and I know it’s public land anyways.” Hell, for all I know, people come here all the time, and I just caught a lucky break today. “But it’s nice to have a quiet place, just in case.” Not to mention that the last thing I want is for this patch of forest and pond to become sullied by a kegster crowd.

For one reason or another, understanding dawns behind Ransom’s eyes even though he keeps his tone light. “I don’t think you have to worry about crowds of people here.” He scowls at the surrounding vegetation with suspicion. “But how about this: I’ll keep it on the lowdown if you help guide me back to civilization. Deal?”

“You do know that I practically came here by accident, right?”

He shrugs. “Even if you did, I trust you to find a way out. Faster than me for sure.”

I blink. I mean, I’m not exactly surprised at the assertion that’d I would be better at navigating a forest than most of my teammates. Haven’t made it secret that I hunt, after all. But that one trusts me to lead him out catches me off guard.

Once I get my bearings straight, I murmur, “Deal.”

Ransom flashes one of his trademark smiles and holds his fist out, and his smile widens when I bump it.  

He has a really nice smile.  

[dream-wreck]

A Song to Suit Yourself

It feels so good to write fanfiction again. Heck, it feels good to write again. This little thing started last summer, inspired by this post, and I’m finally sending it afloat upon the internet’s temperamental waters. Good Omens fandom, I hope you receive it well. Enjoy!

AO3

Title: A Song to Suit Yourself Rating: G Word Count: 2,186 Description: Crowley fixates on a new type of music, though Aziraphale can’t quite figure why. What would a demon want with lullabies?

Neither knew exactly how they ended up in the same Scottish field at exactly the same time beneath the same lonely apple tree, but it probably had something to do with their impending assessments.

Hastur and Ligur would be around soon to check in and report on Crowley’s Deeds of the Day, which were quickly becoming Brief Surveys of the Deeds of the Decade, as they hardly ever popped around anymore. Crowley didn’t dare complain. But he’d been putting off his Evil Deed -- you know, the Big One, which made up for a long dry period of demonic activity -- and it was time to get on that. So. Scotland.

Aziraphale still received regular unscheduled visits from Gabriel, “just checking in” to see that all was going smoothly. Aziraphale had begun to question his own understanding of omnipotence. Or, at least the Head Office’s ability to communicate sporadic schedule changes to literally the only active angel they had on Earth. In biding his time -- and seeking some overdue meditation -- Scotland.

So much for that.

“They’re calling them ‘lullabies’,” Crowley said. “They sing them at children. To make them fall asleep.”

Aziraphale considered this news while he cut off another slice of red apple. He offered some to Crowley. The demon curled his upper lip at the clean white disk.

“Humans have always sang songs to their children,” Aziraphale said once he realized that the news was not news at all. “Remember Babylon?”

They both smiled self-pleased smiles. You’d almost think they were sharing the same memory, but for Crowley baring considerably sharper teeth. “Oh yes,” he said.

“That poor woman you tormented for a spell,” Aziraphale recalled. “I was the one who recommended that she write her composition down. It was a beautiful tune...in spite of its inspiration.” 

Crowley shrugged. “I did not ‘torment her.’ She adopted me as the house god, what was I supposed to do? I was on assignment. Besides, she had a lovely home. It was nice to settle down for a bit. The point is, now they have a new word for it.”

“For tormenting?”

“No. The music. Keep up.” He let the pieces of the word roll off his tongue. “Lull-ah-bye…”

Aziraphale was occupied with his apple, plucked from the branches above. In his humble and learnéd opinion, few tastes in the world yet rivaled that of a fresh-picked apple. Being an angel, he also had an extensive understanding of the art of Music. Angels invented it, after all, but its purposes were rather limited in Heaven. If Crowley had come to him with news of a new kind of Music, or a new purpose for it, he would have been ecstatic and fully enthralled. But he hadn’t, so he wasn’t, and was therefore only mildly interested, though he tried his best to humor his associate. “Singing to babies helps them grow, you know. It teaches them new sounds, new words. And I personally don’t believe you’re ever too young to discover the joy of Music.”

Crowley chose not to tell him that he was missing the point, but he wasn’t entirely sure of his point to begin with. Something about the word struck a strange chord with him (all puns unintended and unrecognized). It had a sound like a plucked lute string and the curve of a lifting chin.

For a while, in silence, the two continued their survey of the Scottish countryside and a hundred miles beyond. Serious business. The evening began to settle in a comfortable calm, the sun yawning out a stretch of gold before its final disappearance beneath the hills. The angel and the demon each wondered what the other was thinking. Aziraphale wondered why Crowley had become so caught up in a single word. Crowley wondered why Aziraphale hadn’t.

The angel bit into another slice of apple. The satisfying crunch in the silence finally whet Crowley’s own appetite. He flicked his wrist and a bright red replica of the angel’s supper fell into his hand.

Aziraphale looked hurt. “I hadn’t realized this tree’s fruit dissatisfied you.”

“What, did I hurt its feelings?”

“No,” Aziraphale said, taking a moment to examine himself, not wanting to lie. “But I’m quite proud of this tree.” He sat a little taller. “I planted and raised it from seed myself, you know.”

Crowley -- who had been leaning against the apple tree’s trunk since the early morning -- sat up and scrutinized the bark as though he’d just noticed it were there. 

“Well what’d you go and do something like that for? When you could just --”

He snapped his long fingers. A few paces off, a plum tree that had not been there before shivered in a gentle breeze that had not been caused by anything but a general notion.

Aziraphale flushed. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. They’ve been cracking down on miracles that are not meant for a heavenly purpose. Besides, I found that I rather enjoyed the process of raising a living thing. You might try it, learn a thing or two. Watering, trimming, revisiting the little sapling now and again to encourage it out of the ground. And it clearly paid off. It took time and it took patience. And it was beautiful. The way God intended.”

Crowley gagged. Time and patience. The plum tree disappeared, but a pile of fresh, dark plums remained at his arm’s length, the skin so deeply purple they were almost black. “Suit yourself,” he said. “Just seems a waste of time.”

“Of course you’d think that,” Aziraphale said. “You know, it’s your constant need for excitement that gets you into trouble. You never sit still.”

“I do!” Crowley defended through a mouthful of bleeding plum. “I am now! And I do when I...you know, when I...you know.”

Aziraphale did not know, but he waited patiently for Crowley to realize that. Crowley did not elaborate.

He tossed his half-eaten fruit into the field, grumbling, “Who came up with the name ‘lullaby’ anyway? They’ve been rubbish at naming things from the Beginning. I’ll never forgive them for the turtle dove...Lullaby. Luhll. Ahhh. Bye. Stupid from the start. Lull....”

“For a dissenter, it sure sticks to your tongue easily.”

“So does mud. Doesn’t make it worth the taste. They think they’re so clever. If they’re so clever, switch things up a bit, do. All those songs, all lullabies ever talk about are dreams and trees and all the pain coming your way if you don’t fall asleep right this instant. All these languages since Babel and not a single one has whipped together hardly anything to move me to tears. Frankly, I’m just not impressed.”

He stopped. Not because he was finished. He felt eyes on him. Angel eyes, confused and concerned, and certainly out of their element.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Perhaps if you let them know that you have been their target audience all along, they’d show improvement. Better yet, put all that wealth of yours to use and commission one to your liking. Lord knows why you care in the first place.”

Aziraphale’s apple had finally been reduced to its core. The knife he was using ceased to exist.

“They’re too much like you lot,” Crowley continued. “Or at least you. Moving so slow. Doing slow things and inventing things that make them move even slower. Want to put the goblins to sleep? They’ve got spells for that. Spoon o’ brandy will do the trick. Or a knock upside the head. Practically instantaneous.”

Aziraphale bristled. “I thank God no one has put a child in your care.”

“On that, angel, we assent.”

The angel stood up, brushed out his jacket and tights. “I best get a move on. Several evening miracles to perform in the next town over.”

Crowley didn’t move, but he was suddenly standing. “Likewise. Which way are you headed?”

Aziraphale pointed to the north.

Crowley jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the south.

“Will you be in Scotland long?”

Crowley looked out to the empty fields. “Depends on what I can find here. I suppose if you’ll be around, I’ll be around. You know. Cancel --”

“Cancel each other out. Yes,” Aziraphale said, low and bristling, turning to the north. “Well, good evening to you.”

He paused. “I hope you find a song to suit your heart.” And he started north across the field, leaving Crowley, who did not turn to the south, alone beneath the apple tree. 

Crowley slumped down against the trunk with his legs stretched toward the setting sun.

Sunsets start to look the same the more you see and the longer you live. There had been only a handful of truly extraordinary sunsets that stuck in Crowley’s busy memory since the Beginning, and few of them were memorable without their contexts. Context is everything. He’d given up long ago on watching sunsets for the hope of an explosion of color to beat the rest. But he still appreciated the thrill of witnessing night stretch over the world like a lumbering dragon splaying out for a nap.

He missed dragons. Not many of them left, nowadays.

As darkness settled in, Crowley began a meditation of his own.

All around him, he felt history’s fine threads weave through the air. Ghosts and imprints left on the surface of the earth and the face of Time itself that had disappeared from visual perception, but lingered as golden strands only few could ever see. Battles and laughter, deaths and creation, all tangled together and tumbling, just above the ground and through the rich soil. Threads thick as vines wrapping around the trunk of the apple tree. The eternal, distant echoes of screams and songs looping round and round the earth like Saturn’s rings, and if Crowley squinted hard enough, he could see their harmonies gleaming.

“I do sit still,” he said to no one in the dark. Or maybe, not to no one.

“Why do they get songs?” he wondered aloud. “What do they have to be comforted about? Everything is given to them, handed to them. All they do is sleep. Bet no one sings their parents songs. They’ve got the hardest of the lot. They’ve got all the troubles. No one writes lullabies for the ones who need them most.”

And he knew in his heart -- or the swirling matter he’d begun to think of as the place where part of his not-soul lived -- exactly why children got all the songs. Because children need distractions from all the Unknown they float in, until they can lift their heads and start finding answers for themselves. The Unknown is a terrible thing to dwell on, even for the youngest minds, whose curiosity more often than not sustains them.

And for the ones who know? Are there no songs for them? The Unknown scrambles the mind, yes, but the Certain, the Absolute, whittles the mind to a rounded end. Fixation on the Certain can be as maddening as floating in obscurity.

Crowley was falling back into fixation. Such was often the case whenever he sat still, so he tried to avoid it whenever possible. But true to pattern, his mind eventually numbed to the humming of the world, to the whispers of Time wrapping like gossamer around this green earth, invisible to all but the eyes of those who have seen more, who know more, and carry the burden of the Certain. And the boiling lake sloshing deep within the earth grew hot against his calves and the heels of his feet.

He tilted his head up to the sky and squinted into the cobalt. The harmonies of history came into focus, golden ribbons rippling in tired dance.

He hadn’t slept in nearly a century. When he last awoke, he’d missed a lot, and wasn’t anxious to miss any more. But now, unnamed weight rested on his head, a heavy fog that stings the eyes and confuses the senses. The kind with its own eyes lurking just beyond the haze. Not a comfortable Saturday morning fog, by any means.

He wanted to lie down forever. He wished this field were safe enough to do just that, but sensed beyond the hills the warm bodies of beasts waking up to hunt by dim starlight, and he fancied this body too much to risk its demise.

Suddenly, there was a snake, long, dark, and terrifying, and if someone were to notice this creature as it slithered around and up the wide tree trunk, they’d see its scales shimmering impossibly through the pitch black eve, reflecting an invisible light. It curled up on a scooping bough like an endless coil of shadowy rope, and it was thankful for the tree being there tonight. 

Snakes cannot hum. That’s impossible. But many impossible things had already happened that day, and the snake, feeling safe enough to do so within the dense shelter of leaves, tried his hand at melody, content for the words he deeply felt to remain unformed, unspoken, as the song was for him alone, and he was -- as he knew and feared -- quite alone for now.

[livingmybestfakelife]

The Man With The White Horse

Summary: There were many situations that split mother and son apart, but this might be something that just might separate them forever

Paring: Michael Gray x Reader

Oneshot

gifs by bonniebird

It was currently forty degrees and steady dropping so it was safe to say that it was cold, too cold to be outside having a conversation that could have been done indoors, but his cousins insisted that they have a word with him outside so he reluctantly followed them through the double doors and onto the wide open yard, their heavy footsteps crushed the thick snow beneath them, Arthur had to catch himself from slipping on a piece that was hard as a rock, Michael pulled out a cigarette hoping that it would warm him up a little, but would still rather be in the house, so whatever they wanted to tell him they would have to do it quickly and had better worth freezing his balls off.

“Alright, what is it? What’s going on?”

“How about you take a sip of this gin aye Michael?”

“Since when are you a gin drinker? Whiskey is more your preference”

Arthur shrugs and passes him a glass that he had already poured, he takes the glass from him and swirls the liquid around a little before taking a sip, the other two look on to see his reaction

“Mm it’s good, a little sweet but it’s alright...so is this what you dragged me out here for, to have me try some gin?”

John snorts and goes to pat him on the shoulder

“No, but we’d hope it would loosen you up a little, you’ve been crunching numbers all week, it’s time you let loose, it’s Friday night Mikey”

“I’m aware of the day of the week John, now what’s up with the both of you? You’ve been acting as if you’ve got something to hide all day, hell you all have, my mum won’t even look me in the eyes, fucks going on?”

The families suspicions behavior didn’t go unnoticed by Michael no matter how hard they insisted there was nothing wrong, but they knew he was too smart to be played a fool, so they thought they might as well spill the beans, he would find out the truth eventually

“Michael, we’d each had gotten a letter earlier this week, you had gotten one too but...”

“Hold on, what letter?”

It was silent again, the only sounds that was filling in the awkwardness was the crickets and an owl, it was somehow making him more colder, he hated when people would try to sugar coat what they were trying to say, he’d much rather them speak frankly, like Tommy and Polly did.

“Arthur, what letter?”

“A letter from YN’s uncle, asking for a meeting”

“Okay, so what happened to my letter then?”

“We couldn’t let you see it Michael, he was pretty aggressive in yours”

“Why would he be aggressive? I didn’t do anything wrong”

“Yeah we know that be he...”

“Would you fucking quit it with that! Tell me what’s going on, I’m sick of being out of the loop!”

His eyes were wild and frantic, he wore built up irritation and stress all over his face and in his voice, this family was going to be the death of him no doubt about it

“He thinks that you were behind YN’s assasination attempt”

“HE FUCKING WHAT?”

“Now calm down Michael”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down, why the fuck would he think that John? I love YN more than anything in this whole fucking world, more than I love myself, why would I want to hurt her!”

Arthur goes to grab his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down a little, but the action does nothing and he shoves him away, he didn’t want to be coddled like a child, he was way beyond being a kid, now in his mid twenties with more base in his voice no longer the mild mannered teenager that showed up on Polly’s doorstep, he was a grown man, a homeowner and a fiancée who would one day be the mother of his children, he could handle just about everything that came with being a man, but being accused of wanting to off his woman was something he couldn’t stomach.

“Michael, I’m serious lower your voice, you want your nosey neighbors to hear ya?”

“Then why are we out here? Let’s discuss this inside!”

The three men headed towards the door, Michael was about to open it only for someone on the other side to do it for him, out walked his mother with a look of concern on her face, she seemed to just get done breathing hard and tried to collect herself, she placed her warm hands on his face and expected him, she had indeed hard the shouts of her son from inside, she had came over to visit for the evening to discuss some last minute wedding plans with you, all hope for a peaceful evening quickly ended and she knew the reason why, it’s been eating her up inside, making her heart ache and stomach turn, she’d been dreading this moment for a while now, she thought she was careful but apparently not enough, it was all out in the open now, only God could save her now, but she hasn’t spoken to the good lord for a very long time.

“Michael, honey what’s the matter?”

“Arthur spoke up for him

“Let’s talk about this inside Pol”

She wraps a hand around his arm and guides him inside, the warmth from the fire that was lit in the living room instantly smacked him in the face, it soothes him for a moment and for a split second he’s not as angry as he was, but was still irritable, he wanted answers and he wanted them tonight, from either Polly or anybody.

“Son, you’re freezing, come sit down in front of the fire, YN just made some tea”

He moves himself out of her grasp and heads to the living room to find you taking a sip of your tea then putting it down once you notice him, the smile that forms on your face puts one on his, Michael walks quickly over to you and grabs your hands to lift you up, you’re surprised by his action as he does in a haste, you stumbled into his arms as you let out little squeal.

“Michael what’s the matter, what are you doing”

“We’re leaving”

“What, why what’s going on?”

“We’re going to New York, should’ve never left, knew coming back to this fucking city would be a mistake, fucking cursed I’m telling you-“

“Michael! What are you saying right now?”

Polly has tears in her eyes and turns to look at her nephews, they give her sorrow looks and feel sorry for her, they both already know her big secret and knew that if it were ever reach your family and Michael then the Shelby’s would be in a whole lot of trouble, they had enough enemies as it is, but none of them compared to the ones that they now made with the YLN’s, most importantly Richard YLN, your late fathers older brother and the patriarch of the YLN family, what he says goes, his power and influence made Thomas Shelby look like he was a little boy playing pretend.

It took a lot for Michael to even earn his trust, first business wise then personal because he wanted to date the mans favorite niece, the pretty girl he had met at one of Tommy’s gala’s that he was hosting, he remembered how your beautiful pale pink gown made you look like an angel, your very delicate and expensive pearls and diamond earrings added some elegance to your look for the evening, he’s seen some beautiful women before but there was something about you that reeled him in more than the others did, and it wasn’t a feeling of lust, this was something he couldn’t put into words, you were just it for him, he could feel it, right then and there he wanted you, hell even needed you, he hoped and prayed that another man didn’t already have claim to you, even if he did, he’s Michael Gray, he’d always gotten what he wanted, he had a bright future ahead of him and you were going to be apart of it.

“Michael please let’s just sit down and talk about this, there is no need to run of back to America, the both of you are not going anywhere, especially not YN, you remember how pissed Richard was after you dragged her away the first time”

“Yeah, that’s nothing compared to now mum, he fucking thinks that I tried to get YN killed, he’ll never forgive me now”

“Wait, w-what the hell is going on?!”

“Well go on mum, tell your soon to be daughter in law that her uncle for some reason believes that I was behind the her being kidnapped and nearly killed by the Owens brothers, oh and why the fuck would he think that anyway?”

You look to Polly for answers, she looks over at you as well and takes a step forward but he holds a hand up signaling her to stop

“Tell us about the letters mum, the ones that were sent to all of us but was hidden from me”

“Michael I swear to God I didn’t know it would go down the way it did, we made a deal they said that they wouldn’t hurt her- oh my God”

Her voice was shaking and she couldn’t finish, clinging onto John who held her tight, Arthur once again speaking up for everyone

“Polly made a deal with the Owens boys, it was suppose to be simple and no one was suppose to get hurt, Tommy made a bad deal with them and lost some money, they assumed that we betrayed them and stole money, so to get their payback they threatened to kill a family member...”

He trailed off and before Michael could tell him to keep going Polly looked up and continued

“I met with the eldest brother, I made a deal with them to not kill anyone...but to instead kidnap a member, and to do only that, keep them locked away somewhere until we could figure out what had went wrong, he swore no one would lay a finger on her, but his trigger happy little brother shot her, I can’t tell you how sorry I am, YN sweetheart you know that I care about you love, b-but there was no other way around it, it wasn’t suppose to happen this way-“

Michael ran over to her like a mad man, yelling and swearing like he was possessed, his anger, pain and betrayal clouded his thoughts and his body went on autopilot, he tackled his mother to the cold floor and wrapped his hands around her throat, squeezing tighter and tighter, in that moment he felt nothing but hate and resentment for her, all these years of bonding went down the drain along with any love he’d ever felt for her.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH, YOU FUCKING WHORE, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME HUH? YOU FUCKING SCUM”

His strength was unmatched by Arthur and John who tried desperately to remove him from on top of their aunt before he killed her, he could hear your faint cries from across the room begging him to stop

“MICHAEL YOU’RE GOING TO KILL HER STOP IT”

Her eyes were turning red and so was her face, she scratched and punched but nothing helped, finally giving up she let him continue to try and choke her to death, she deserved it, and if there were anyone she would rather take her life it would be her precious baby boy, her little Michael.

Finally he was pulled away before she could close her eyes, she gagged in an attempt to let oxygen get into her lungs, her throat was already forming a nasty bruise, you cried, then Polly then Michael, he cried and screamed and banged his fists on the hard wood floor.

“I wish I never came looking for you, this family...this family is the worst thing to ever happen to me”

He whispered but she could hear him as if he said it in her ear

“Michael, oh my god”

You ran over to him and collapsed by his side to hold him, as much as you were hurt by Polly’s confession you still didn’t want to see her be harmed in that way, especially not by her own son, John and Arthur checked over Polly who gently pushed them away and got onto her feet with whatever strength she had left

“I’m sorry, oh my boy I love you”

“Get out of my house, ALL OF YOU GO”

The boys helped Polly to leave but not before you had your say

“I can’t promise you that Uncle Richard won’t come for you Polly, I suggest you be the one to run off to America”

She still has her hands caressing her sore neck, nodding in acceptance of her fate, and with that they left, you and Michael looked at the door, he was still breathing hard and his hands were still in a choking form, you reached down to hold them and looked up at him

“Michael, for heavens sake”

“No one and I mean no one comes above you, if I won’t do it then Richard will, and with the way your family does business, choking her would’ve been a less painful death”

You nod your head because that’s the only response you could give, Richard would find out the whole truth eventually, and when he does, Polly Gray would be no more.

[girlinthecorner19]

Rinku

Chapter 1: Zuko Alone

Heeeyyy so idk how to do a master list so if someone could help me with that, what would just swell. I am currently writing chapter 2 so you don't have to wait long for an update! It will probably be out by the end of the weekend. I start work again on the 13th so I won't update as often :,(

Words: 2161

Zuko was alone and starving. He could still smell the cooking meat from the fire if the family he passed. He once again clutched his grumbling stomach and sighed as he swayed with the movements of the ostrich horse. He felt weak sucking the last drop of water. His eyes drooped before me momentarily closed them. He shook his head awake once he saw the haunting images of his mother though. He needed to keep going.

"Hey you there!" A voice called out. He jumped slightly at the sudden noise and looked around for its source, sounded like a girl. The mystery girl jogged up to him, he squinted as she came forward. She was wearing tan clothes that covered almost her whole body so she blended in with the dry dirt surrounding. He wasn't able to see her face until she uncovered it as she approached.

"It's been a while since I've seen anyone out here, mind if I walk with you?" She flashed him an inocente smile, but Zuko internally groaned.

The last thing he needed was more distractions.

Picking up on Zuko's hesitant looks she held up her hands. "I carry no weapons." She looked at his dual sword, but her cheerful expression didn't change till she looked over him and his Ostrich. Her face changed to potty. "but I have some supplies. Your ostrich looks just as tired as you do." Zuko studied her up and down. Her hair was up in a loose bun, a few strands framed her tanned skin. She flashed a big smile trying to ease him. He looked into her eyes. Earth Kingdom, which made sense, he was in the Earth Kingdom. But they were suck a striking emerald color, dark flex of forest green sprinkled in. He took in her beauty, but quickly shook his thoughts away. He didn't have time for beautiful, mysterious girls who came up to him promising him food.

I'm fine, you should be on your way." The girl shook her head, looking into his ostrich's eyes. Much to his dismay she stroked the animals face. It let out a pitiful sign.

"He is exhausted, you would both do well to stop." She looked up at him no longer smiling, a much more serious look on her face. It felt like she was staring into his soul. He squirmed in his saddle. "I insist you at least stop by my camp for rest, please." The way she said please almost sounded like her life depended on it.

He signed, she looked stubborn but he didn't know who to trust so he unsheathes his swords. She took a step back, looking shocked.

"Please I mean no harm I—" she pleaded

"I'm just trying to keep myself safe, I'm not attacking." He inhaled "I've been traveling a while, I don't know who to trust." His expression stiffened in crontrast she flashed another smile and took the reins of his animal. He was tired, and he did need food. She looked harmless and he was sure he could beat her if it came down to it, so might as well accept her kindness.

"I understand. It's not too far away, so don't worry." She reached into her bag, Zuko was ready to strike, and took two apples tossing one to him and fed the other to his horse. "Does he have a name?"

"No."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

She nodded but didn't question him further. There was a pause, only the crunching sound of sand and dirt under feet and the ostrich's hooves.

"Do you have a name?" He asked

"Yes." She said in a husckly voice, Zuko assume she was mocking him. After a few snickers she continued "my name is Nya.

Nya, it fit her.

****

Zuko examined the campsite. It was nice he had to admit. A fast flowing stream of crystal clear water, lots of bush and trees for cover, she had a nice camp fire set up and a tent near it. It was like an oasis in the almost desert like area of the earth kingdom.

She led his horse to the stream where it drank eagerly. Taking a small cup from her bag, she filled it with the cool water and handed it to Zuko. He eagerly drank it. Nya eyed him as he gulped the water down. She blushed slightly, when he caught her staring.

"Can I have some more?" He asked politely

"Streams right there, I'm going to make us some tea."

Tea, it made him think of his uncle making him smile slightly. Once he filled his water he sat by the fire watching Nya with interest.

She looked skinny, which made sense with the amount of fashions she had. She is cute though. He huffed, causing Nya to look at him confused hold yourself together Zuko, you're on a mission. Honor is far more important than a cute girl.

They made conversation, mostly one sided by Nya as she cooked the fish and some sort of cabbage. But they sat in silence as they ate. She didn't have much food. He noted after their small meal she only had an apple, and a few berries left. She had offered the rest to him, but he felt pity, which was slightly unexpected.

She cleaned the tin dishes in the stream before sitting by the fire. She looked at the sunset then into Zuko's eyes.

"You are welcome to stay here for the night. I've got an extra sack and pillow if you need it." She offered.

He shook his head "I appreciate your generosity, I'm a stranger yet you gave me food and shelter, but I really should be getting on my way. I say a villiage just ahea—"

"They charge way too much for inns, you will never be able to afford it. They jacked up the prices since the war." Her eyes once again pleaded with him. "Please, stay." And once again she said please like her life depended on it.

Zuko felt confused, "why do you want me to stay so much, you don't know me." He asked.

Nya's face went red and she became flustered as she stumbled over her words. "I—um—"

"Spit it out!" Zuko barked. She sputtered, "come on!"

"I JUST DONT WANT TO BE ALONE!" Nya finally said. He was taken aback, inhaling sharply. She lowered her head. "I don't have very much food because people see me as weak and steal my food. Some... men..." she stopped and tears rolled down her face.

Zuko, not equipped to deal with crying girls, looked at her, eyes wide. He felt his heartened heart soften slightly. He wanted to protect her...maybe he'd just stay the night.

She cried softly to herself, and looked up. "Sorry, we just met and now I'm crying to you about my problems." She laughed slightly.

"I'll stay with you." He said looking up at the orange sky.

She gasped and lunged forward putting her arms around his neck. Zuko was ready to fire bend her right off of him, but the way it made him feel changed his mind. Her embrace, though was meant to comfort her, comforted him too.

What is it with this girl. He thought as he awkwardly patted her back.

"Thank you." She whispered before parting.

****

Zuko lied awake, unable to sleep for multiple reasons. One she had said she gets stolen from and also... he just couldn't see why anyone would want to hurt her. She's just a nice girl. Two he didn't like sleeping next to people he didn't know. And three this girl could potentially be a major set back. In the hours of knowing her she had managed to make him blush, and think of her as cute and beautiful.

She is... he thought as he rolled onto his side, watching her peaceful expression on her face and the steady rise and fall of her chest. Damn he thought angrily and rolled to his back.

He didn't know when he fell asleep but he was awoken by rustling in the bushes. He instantly got up and too his swords out of the sleeping sack.

He circled the camp site, but it was silent.

"Show yourself you coward." He whispered.

The tree above him shook, and he quickly drew back. "So the little girl got herself a bodyguard. I'll make quick work if you, kid" the slimy voice above him said.

"We will see about that." Zuko gritted his teeth. And debated whether he should firebend this bitch into next week make the first move.

The man jumped out of the tree. He wore a hood, but Zuko could tell from his build he was a grown man. Anger built inside of him at the thought of him taking advantage of a young girl who couldn't be older than 17.

"You're just a kid what are you going to do?" He taunted.

But his eyes widened with shock when Zuko rushed I'm with speed he didn't expect. Swords clashed. The thief backed away, but Zuko quickly advanced. And with one swift move he disarmed him.

"You are one of the most dispicable humans out there. You pray on the weak, and steal from the poor. Only picking a fight with those you know cannot defend themselves." He spat at him, holding both swords to his throat. "Give me one reason I shouldn't end your life."

"I—please have mercy I'll never bother her again I promise!" He sank to his knees and begged.

"Scum! Of course you won't because I'm going to—"

"Zuko STOP!" Nya rushed over to him grabbing his arm to lower the sword. He did but kept eye contact with the thief.

"He should pay for his crimes." He growled his left sword almost touching the thief's throat.

"Yes, but not by death he will be put in jail. Or maybe the soldiers in the city will rough him up a bit. But death in not for us to decide." She stepped in front of Zuko and lowered both of the swords.

He huffed "you would get along great with my sister." He said sarcastically. Zuko looked back down at the man who was shaking with fear then back to Nya. "Got any rope?"

****

It was morning by the time Zuko got back to Nya's campsite. He tossed her some gold pieces. She looked up confused.

"Turns our he was a wanted thief so, I got some bounty from it." Zuko said as he began packing up his things.

"You're leaving so soon?" She asked.

"Yeah." Zuko stopped packing and looked into her eyes, but they were angry. "You know," he drew his swords, Nya's heart dropped and she stepped back. "I realized something you said while I was traveling back."

She continued to step back, but panicked once she hit a tree. Sweat dripping down her face. "What is that?"

Zuko stepped forward his face inches away. "How do you know my name?"

She gasped, scared if she told the truth he would think she was lying and kill her. "You're Prince Zuko, everyone knows who you are!"

He shook his head. "No. People know my name, but not many out fo the fire nation would know what I look like." He was so close she could feel his breath on her face. And even though she feared for her life, a light rose tint painted itself on her cheeks. She stared into his golden eyes.

"I...I don't actually know..." she looked down, tear fell from her eyes which made Zuko hesitant and step back. "I can't explain it, but when I say you on the road... something inside me told me I needed to talk to you. And the more I was with you the more I felt I was connected to you. And then as I was sleeping I had a—a vision I guess." She looked back up, Zuko's mouth parted at the determination in her eyes. "And now I'm sure that I'm supposed to travel with you Zuko! I know I'm supposed to help you find the Avatar!"

Aaaah I can't tell if this is good XD. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading.

Writing this is actually more difficult than I thought. Writing for Zuko is challenging, but good practice for difficult characters. Like he's kinda an ass but also he's fighting with himself bc he secretly do want to be good. So writing his interactions with Nya is kinda tough. I'm also very thirsty for Zuko so I just wanna write some heavy make out scene. I'm going to write smut but I'm trying to go easy on it. But I want to but can't bc Zuko is not a slut so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.  But also I'm like choke me you sexy son of a bitch. Wow I have no chill ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

[eskalations]

Smoke and Gunpowder, Chapter 2

A/N: I was not going to post this chapter so quickly after the last, but life happened and I needed a distraction. Earlier, my sweet dog of 17 years, passed on and this has been just about the hardest day of my life. His passing was peaceful, but it didn't make things any easier. I was in the middle of writing this chapter when I received the news, so this piece will always have a special place in my heart. I'm still not sure if I'm back in the swing of things with my writing, but I'm planning on going back and editing when I'm feeling more like myself.

So, today we have the meeting of Ray and Raina. While I wanted to do a chapter where there was more interaction between the two, this chapter seemed necessary for backstory purposes. I also realized I never specified the age changes for our lovely characters. Since Roy was born in 1885 and Riza was born in 1889 (canonically), I just decided to swap their ages. That's pretty much the only big change there is.

Please let me know how you enjoyed this chapter! I love getting feedback!

AO3 | FFN

Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

This chapter is dedicated to Skippy (May 18th 2003 - May 29th 2020)

Augenblick, East Area - Summer of 1903

The town of Augenblick was less spectacular than she could have ever imagined.

'Blink and you'll just about miss it' The man had said as she exited the train earlier that day. He must have seen the look of surprise on her face at such a small station existing in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. There was no town in which the station was on the edge of, no bustling streets with families doing their Sunday shopping, no cars puttering down the road to their destination – all she could see were fields stretching out endlessly in every direction.

The man who had gotten off the train with her was long gone by the time she pulled out the booklet the Madame had given her. Honestly, she should have realized what this small blip of a town was going to look like by the map in front of her – there seemed to be nothing but green bleeding across the wrinkled pages.

At fourteen, she wouldn't call herself incredibly resourceful – but at least she could read directions. The Madame had circled her destination with a fat, red marker – making it stand out amongst all the greenery it was surrounded by.

The girl started walking and hoped that she was traveling in the right direction.

The dusty road crunched beneath her shoes and she had to cringe as small particles of dirt made their way between her toes. Maybe wearing the new shoes she had bought for this occasion hadn't been the best idea...but it was too late to change them now. She had wanted to impress Master Hawkeye by dressing as professionally as a young girl could, but now she was beginning to see why the Madame had kept insisting that she needed to wear something a little more comfortable.

'I want him to see me as a lady,' She had shared with her foster mother while buttoning up her crisp new blazer. All her clothes had been starched earlier that morning before she was set to be at the station and even her usually black unruly mane was combed and slicked to perfection. 'I want him to see me as an apprentice worth taking.'

The Madame had simply smiled at her young charge's determination, smoke pouring from her lips as she spoke.

'My dear – with the amount I'm paying him for your lessons – he would take you on even if you were a newborn baby,' The words did little to abate her nerves.

She didn't want the man to pour his efforts into her because he had to – she wanted him to teach her because he saw potential.

The amount of information she had on Master Hawkeye was scarce. She knew that he was an excellent freelance alchemist, who's early research had been compiled into a single publication that had made waves in the alchemy community.

However, that was it. After his first work was published, he retired to the country and was now known as a bit of a recluse. From the Madame's information, it seemed the military had propositioned him multiple times to become a State Alchemist, but to no avail. Raina found it hard to believe that he wouldn't jump on the opportunity since with that grand title also came grand funds for research.

The only other piece of information she had received from her source was that the man had a son who also lived with him. The age of said son was unknown to her still.

'Now you must be careful, dear,' Her older "sister" Margaret had warned her that morning, patting her head gently in an endearing fashion. 'You will be the only woman in the house – so, you must make sure they are treating you right. If they try anything funny, you have to promise to call us immediately.'

Madame Christmas had scoffed at the idea.

'Once they get her riled up once, they'll know better than to mess with her,' Madame Christmas insisted without worry, taking a long drag from her cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke. 'We've taught her well. She knows how to defend herself.'

Her foster mother wasn't wrong; she could defend herself. However, it had been a long time since she had lived with a male counterpart. She couldn't remember her father (her parents had died when she had been just three years of age) and the Madame rarely housed young men in the bar.

The thought of living alone with two men had caused her quite a bit of anxiety, but she wasn't going to let it stop her. Even as she trudged down the road, sun beating down mercilessly upon the top of her scalp – her gait was confident as she embarked on this new chapter of her life.

She had been walking for about half an hour before she came upon a small town. A groan unknowingly slipped from between her lips at the sight of it.

Augenblick was small – so small you could hardly justify its place on the map. From what she could see, it was comprised of one long row of buildings lining two sides of a dirt road that spanned just about 100 meters. From the looks of the way the lots were set up, it seemed that they were all commercial.

A few people milled about, swinging bags full of produce as they went about their morning routine. There were stands set up in front of the buildings where farmers were selling their goods to residents and chatting merrily with their neighbors. This version of the Sunday Market was very different from the bustling one back in Central that Raina was familiar with.

Gripping her suitcase tightly in her sweaty palm, the girl continued to trudge forward. She had passed a school house and a general store before finally getting stopped by a curious shopper.

"Can I help you, dearie?" An elderly woman asked, taking notice of the map clutched in her hands. After giving the girl a once over, she continued with her line of questioning. "You don't look to be from around here – are you looking for something?"

Raina was caught between wanting to find the Hawkeye residence on her own – to prove her status as an independent young lady – and wanting to get some help since the map's lines were starting to bleed together in the heat of the midday sun.

"Yes," The girl said, accepting that this was a small concession to make in her journey to becoming a worthy young apprentice. She could always be independent tomorrow. "I am looking for the Hawkeye residence."

The woman looked at her strangely for a moment. Raina's confident stance did not waver though – she knew it probably looked strange for a young girl to seek out an older man, but she wasn't here to worry about appearances. After a brief pause, the woman answered her cautiously.

"It's just down main," The elder spoke slowly, still unsure of what the young girl's motive was. "If you keep walking that direction, you will come to a fork in the road. Take a right if you're looking for the Hawkeye residence, take a left if you want to traverse the desert."

Raina laughed nervously at her dark humor. At this point, she wasn't sure which path the woman considered to be more dangerous.

"Thank you!" Before she could take her leave though, the woman's hand reached out to grab her wrist. This stopped the young girl dead in her tracks as she was met with a serious set of dark eyes, concern evident in the way the woman drew her near to speak quietly in her ear.

"What do you want with that old man, child?" Her voice was low, suspicion blending with worry. Raina glanced nervously at the shoppers who passed them, but none even batted an eye at the strange scene in front of them. The woman tightened her grip again, forcing the girl's gaze back to her own. "If you need any help, all you have to do is tell us."

Shaking her wrist from the woman's grasp, Raina brought her hand protectively to her chest – map and all.

"I am an apprentice, ma'am," The girl insisted, tone bordering on rude. These country folks may be fine with lecturing young ladies and manhandling them in the streets, but she certainly was not. "I am here to learn alchemy from Master Hawkeye and that is all."

She could tell the older woman was affronted by such a brash response, not used to a girl speaking to her elders in such a way – however, she recovered quickly. The surprised look on her face morphed into one of sympathy.

"I didn't mean to offend you, child," The lady insisted, picking up the bag of vegetables she had dropped to her side at the beginning of their conversation. "I just know that the elder Hawkeye is not one to be trusted. Ever since the death of his wife, his behavior has been strange. We've rarely seen him for the past few years – the only one that ever comes into town is his son."

The people mulling around the market were now eyeing them – pausing at the stands nearby to watch the encounter while still attempting to appear casual. They would pick up an apple, turn it in their hands to check if it had any soft spots, and then glance quickly over at them. She could tell by her faces that, at the mention of Berthold Hawkeye, she had set the subject for Sunday gossip amongst the small populace.

"Just because someone does not wish to mingle with others does not mean they are any less trustworthy than you or I," Raina insisted, defending her new teacher from the accusations of the lady in front of her. Already this town was a little too judgmental for her taste. "I could care less how social he is as long as he is a dutiful teacher."

"Child," The woman pleaded, a hint of desperation in her tone as Raina made to walk away, suitcase swinging in her hand. Luckily, she did not grab her this time – however the fear that infused her tone, had the young girl turning to regard her once more.

"I know it seems like I am simply an old gossip who has nothing better to do," Raina fought the urge to raise her brows at the expression since that was precisely what she had pegged the woman as. "But you must listen to me – there is something wrong with that man."

The genuine concern in the woman's voice caused a shiver to run up her spine. Raina would have argued it was just a chill – however, in the middle of summer, that was unlikely. Seeing that she now had the young girl's attention, the woman continued.

"His son was so gaunt during the first few years after his mother's death, that it looked like a breeze would knock him over," The woman revealed, her voice so low that even someone walking past them would have to strain to hear her words. "He finished school early and after that – well he just disappeared. We didn't see him for months then suddenly one day he walked up to Mrs. Roth's stand to buy potatoes. By that time, he had filled out a bit – but there was a haunted look in his eyes."

Raina's curiosity was piqued, though she couldn't help but have some doubts in regards to the woman's claims.

"Madame," The young girl began carefully, lowering her tone to match the volume of the elder. The townspeople were still watching them – however, their interest seemed to have lessened once their conversation had become harder to hear. "I don't think it's fair to assume that something bad happened to him during that time. He and his father could have taken a vacation."

"No one left that house." The woman insisted, causing another chill to run through the girl. The older woman spoke with such conviction – like she knew that whatever it was she suspected was true.

"Maybe they were just enjoying some time alone together after the son finished school?" Raina tried to reason with the woman, desperately grasping for straws in an attempt to abate her fears. "Why does his disappearance have to mean something bad happened?"

The serious look in the woman's eyes was one that Raina would remember for a long time after.

"Because he was covered in bruises when he returned."

It was this conversation that had Raina shaking slightly on the doorstep of the Hawkeye residence. After the old woman had finally let her continue on her way, she was left with more fear and anxiety than before. She was more fearful now than she had been when she had originally been told she was being shipped out for alchemy instruction.

The house was nothing spectacular. It looked like it could have been grand once upon a time, but the broken shutters and overgrown garden implied that once hard times had hit, all efforts of upkeep had been abandoned. Even so, the view from the porch was one that's beauty couldn't be denied – the rolling green fields that surrounded the home for miles looked as though they were straight out of a painting.

Raina took a deep breath. She could do this. No amount of town gossip was going to keep her from doing what she had come here to do. She had been waiting her whole life for this and that old biddy was not going to ruin her chances of becoming a great alchemist.

As far back as she could remember, she had been studying alchemy. Madame Christmas liked to joke that the young girl had practically forced her to read alchemical essays to her at bedtime before she was able to read them on her own. One of her favorite alchemical works had always been the book of research Berthold Hawkeye had published a few years before her birth. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined she would have the honor of studying under him.

It was this realization that had her fist raising resolutely to the door. She was not timid. She was not shy. She was not scared. No one could deter her from the goals she had already set out to achieve. She would knock on this door and accept whatever fate lay on the other side.

But before her hand could even come in contact with wood, the door was swinging wide open in front of her.

Raina stood frozen. Well, she certainly hadn't been expecting that. Her fist fell swiftly to her side.

Standing before her was a young man only three or four years her senior. He was tall – certainly taller than she was – with a sturdy build that marked years of hard labor. His skin was golden, much like his hair, and there seemed to be a fine sheen of sweat covering him as if he had just come in from the fields. She watched as a droplet traversed down the weather worn features of his face before dropping off his sharp chin.

She had begun to sweat herself at his sudden appearance. She tried to tell herself that it was from the heat - but later she would question if that had really been it at all.

Despite his humble background, the man's spine straightened automatically at the sight of the young girl on his doorstep. Assuming the role of a gentleman – though looking nothing like one in ripped pants and a sweaty white shirt – he bowed his head in greeting to her.

"I must apologize," His voice was deep, much deeper than the voices of the boys she had gone to school with. "I did not realize you had arrived, Miss Mustang."

Being addressed so formally, she realized what set him apart from the boys at her school. He was not a boy; he was a man. His voice was too deep to be that of a boy's and his features were too hard to still be touched by the innocence of childhood. In the face of his own maturity, she puffed out her chest a bit before primly joining her hands in front of her.

"Hello, Mr. Hawkeye," She answered, clearing her throat to adopt a much deeper tone that would better match his own. "Please, just call me Raina. Miss Hawkeye sounds much too formal when we are going to be housemates."

The young man appeared unimpressed by her words, causing another bout of sweat to break out beneath her starched white shirt. Any hopes that she had conceived of the two of them being friends, seemed to be thrown farther and farther out the window as their staring contest continued. His amber eyes beat into her own, resembling those of a hawk's.

'Fitting,' she thought wryly to herself, as his gaze dropped to the suitcase she had laid to rest at her feet. Her hand itched to pick it up and turn right back around, leaving this house and his unnerving stare in the dust – but he surprised her.

Picking up her suitcase himself – the young man stood to the side of the doorway and gestured for her to make her way inside. The expression on his face was unreadable, but the grim lines of his face softened as she hesitantly stepped forward into the humid air of the home.

The inside of the house was much like the outside – dark and rundown. She could see a living area with a small stone fireplace off to the side, the furniture worn from many years of use. There was a door at the back of the room that she assumed led to a dining area and kitchen. The stairs were nestled in the corner of the area, leading to where she assumed the bedrooms and bathroom would be.

It was certainly different from what she was used to – but she guessed it could be considered cozy.

Careful to school her features, she turned back towards the younger Hawkeye. She didn't want him to think of her as a spoiled city girl. Despite their rough start, she still held on to the hope that they could be friends. She must not have covered her reaction quickly enough though, because when she met his gaze, there was a knowing look in his eye.

"I know it's not much, Miss Mustang," He emphasized his use of her formal name, pointedly ignoring the fact that she had asked him to call her Raina earlier. His words were polite, but she could hear a harsh undertone in them. "But I assure you that you will find everything you'll need to further pursue your alchemical studies within these walls."

Embarrassed at the censure evident in his tone, the young girl gave a quick nod of understanding.

"Yes, sir."

Satisfied with her quiet response, he gestured for her to follow him up the stairs. She grabbed her suitcase in her sweaty palm before following his orders.

"My father is having one of his bad days, so you will have to wait until tomorrow to make his acquaintance," Raina could feel herself deflating in disappointment, her footfalls heavy on the old wooden stairs. She had really hoped she'd be meeting her master upon arrival. "However, I am sure you are tired from your journey and will want this afternoon to rest."

"Oh, I'm not tired," Raina insisted, despite the aching in her feet. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

Without batting an eye, the young man turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"I'm going hunting," His words implied that he figured this answer would somehow affect her sensibilities.

Being raised in a bar though, Raina had never been the squeamish type.

"Can I come?" She asked innocently, following behind him as he led her down a hall at the top of the stairs. The strong set of his shoulders stiffened in surprise at her request, stopping him mid-step.

"I don't know," He answered slowly, clearly caught off guard by her words. The surprise on his face was short lived though as his features quickly settled back into the stoic expression he seemed to be so fond of. "Are you going to scare off our dinner?"

"Our dinner?"

The young Hawkeye had to grin as he continued to lead her forward. Like a dutiful guest, she followed closely behind – waiting for an answer.

"Surely you don't think I am going down to the market to get our food for tonight?" He finally asked, his hand turning the knob of a door leading to what she assumed to be her bedroom. A few doors down, she could just make out movement underneath the door that resided at the end of the long stretch of hallway.

"Of course not," She answered evenly as she stepped into the room, setting her suitcase by her feet. There was a bed, a dresser, and a desk. It wasn't much, but it would do. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the young man studying her face. If he was looking for a negative reaction this time around, she wasn't going to give it to him.

"So," She started, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to meet his gaze once more. "When do we leave?"

His answering smirk made her heart soar – though she would never admit it.

"Half an hour."

Her heart continued to beat sporadically even after he had closed the door behind him, leaving her to unpack and dress for their outing. However, the heavy beating of her heart wasn't from the small smile he had given her or the moment of softness she glimpsed in his eyes before taking his leave.

No, her heart was beating because she had seen the bruises on the back of his arms through the material of his shirt.

Falling back upon the mattress, she stared blankly up at the ceiling. Just what kind of secrets were hiding within these walls and just what did it all mean for her?