#i saw the stony one and immediately thought of these two bastards

[babybirbb]

idk if this has been done before | insp.

[livingforthewhump]

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

—

Civilian woke up swaddled in their own bed. Their head pounded. Slowly, they turned to look at Villain, wincing as it sent shards of pain through them. Villain was staring down at them, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“How long have you been there?” Civilian scoffed, frowning at the croak in their voice.

Villain dropped to one knee, now just inches from Civilian’s face. Civilian flinched away from the movement, then met Villain’s stony glare.

“Why the hell would you try to hide this from me?” Villain seethed.

Civilian glowered. “It’s none of your business.”

They barked a laugh. “Oh, I’m sure. And whose business is it? Hero’s?”

“Don’t.” Civilian squeezed their eyes shut as their heart panged in fear.

“Don’t what.”

“Don’t talk about them. Please.” They felt tears rising to their eyes unbidden, a sob building in their throat. Suddenly all their defenses were crumbling around them. They were just so tired of having to defend themselves. “I don’t want to have to hear about them right now.”

Villain groaned through their teeth, slumping to sit down on the floor with their head in their hands. “Why are so many people out to get you, Civilian?”

“Beats me.” For some reason, they found that hilariously funny, and started laughing weakly.

Villain blew air out of their nose, looking up with suspiciously red-rimmed eyes and the tiniest of smiles on their face. “Stop it, you moron, you’re going to reopen your wounds.”

Civilian’s smile faded, and so did Villain’s. There was a beat of silence before the city's menace sighed.

“Gosh, the things they must have said to you,” they breathed, brows settling low over their eyes again. Civilian imagined they had tiny weights attached to them, and Villain had to try extra hard to keep them raised.

“What are you going to do now?” Civilian asked.

Villain glanced at them. “What do you mean?”

Desolation washed over them suddenly like a weighted blanket. “Hero knows you’re alive. I-I’m sorry, I–” They choked on a sob. Oh, gosh, were they crying? Villain shouldn’t have to deal with them like this. They pushed themselves upright, hiding their face in their hands. The tears just wouldn’t stop.

Suddenly they felt warm hands on their shoulders. Arms wrapping around them. Villain’s voice in their hair, dark and careful and so very different from Hero’s. “I’m here, Civilian. It’s okay. Whatever it is, I’m going to take care of it, okay?”

They sniffed and pushed back just enough to stare into Villain’s face. “No, but, but Hero knows. I wasn’t supposed to help you, and you saved me and now Hero’s going to go after you and it’s my fault.”

Villain gaped at them, lips parted slightly. “Civilian, sweetheart, what on earth do you mean? Hero would be after me anyway. I’m a villain, yes?”

They raised their eyebrows, seemingly waiting for Civilian to respond, so they nodded slowly.

“This isn’t your fault at all. None of it. Is that what Hero told you?”

Civilian ducked their head as their face flushed, but Villain caught their chin and tilted their face back up.

“Is it?”

“Mhm,” Civilian managed. With Villain’s collected eyes fixed on them, they couldn’t help but feel an absolute mess, face wet and blotchy and nose certainly tomato-red from crying. Not to mention the way they couldn't string two words together when Villain was the one who was in danger.

“Hm.” Villain released them, seeming thoughtful. Civilian thought they saw that dark fury sparking just behind their eyes again, but they couldn’t be sure before Villain turned away. “Well, love,” they said, voice still calm and slightly lilting, “Hero is a lying bastard.”

Civilian laughed at the unexpectedness of it. Then immediately they felt a wash of fear. “Don’t say that. They’ll–”

“They’ll what?” Villain said, eyebrows raised. “They don’t get to threaten you anymore, Civilian. I’m not going to let them. And, as their personal self-proclaimed nemesis, I can call them whatever insults I want.”

Civilian frowned, almost like they didn’t believe them.

Villain cupped their face in their hands. “Listen to me, Civilian. No matter what they did to you, they are not getting you back. You are under my protection now, okay?”

Civilian pursed their lips, but finally nodded. “Oka–”

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Stay here,” Villain said, snapping back to their hypervigilant state. Civilian felt anxiety descend on them as soon as Villain left the room.

Villain had a knIife tucked into their palm before they got to the door. They wished briefly that Civilian had a peephole to look through. After all, in all the time Villain had spent with Civilian, they’d never had a friend drop by.

They waited another moment before reaching towards the door handle, but they had apparently waited too long. A loud bang shook the door from its hinges, and it fell down over Villain, who just narrowly managed to spring back out of the way. They dropped into a fighting position, pure fury running through their veins as they bit out, “you.”

“My, my,” Hero smiled, teeth glinting dangerously as they stepped inside, “what do we have here? I thought you would be dead by now, stray.”

“You stay away from them,” Villain snarled, holding firm despite Hero’s casual approach.

They chuckled. “Quite the game of cat and mouse, isn’t this? A little alley cat thinking they can keep me from my prey.” Despite their smile, Villain could see the anger in their eyes that they would no doubt be taking out on Civilian.

“Tell me, Villain, what game of cat and mouse has two cats?”

“This is your last chance to leave,” Villain warned, voice pitched low and mUurderous.

Hero ignored them completely in favor of answering their own question. “The kind where the mouse doesn’t know they’re the prey.”

“I’m not letting you touch Civilian.” Villain attacked, knives swinging expertly at Hero, who blocked with equal expertise.

Hero didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, poor thing, is that what you think I want? Tell me, why did my dear Sidekick take you in when they could have easily left you for dead?”

Villain, unfortunately, did miss a beat at that. “...Sidekick?”

Hero managed to snatch the blade out of their hand, turning it on Villain as they frantically snatched a new one out of its hilt. “Yes. Sidekick. This is their house, you know.”

Civilian was…no. No, that didn’t make any sense.

It made perfect sense.

Memories rushed to Villain’s mind, of Civilian’s fight-bloodied knuckles, their unwillingness to discuss work. Superhero calling them Hero’s plaything. Why they would know Hero at all. A sinking feeling came over them.

“Tell me, Villain,” Hero pressed. “Why would they take you, their enemy, in? Hm?”

“Because they’re too nice for their own good,” Villain spat back at Hero.

Hero chuckled. “They’re certainly not that. No. I told them to, stray.”

Villain was quickly losing ground, by this point nearly backed against the wall with the knives from their belt littering the floor of Civilian’s—Sidekick’s—living room. Hero pressed an arm to their chest, trapping them against the wall.

“Sidekick, or Civilian, if you prefer,” Hero snarled, breath hot and triumphant over Villain’s face, “is loyal to me.”

—

Hero/Villain taglist (and others who wanted to be tagged in continuations—y’all maxed out my mentions so the rest is in a reblog): @shadowylemon @utopian819 @whumpkitty @journey-the-panda @freefallingup13 @prettyboysinpain @1becky1 @temporary-whump-sideblog @chartreusephoenix @thelazywitchphotographer @onestopheroxvillain @smolxhero @mylifeisonthebookshelf @broadwaybabe18 @grizzlie70 @sunflower1000 @digitalart-dwa @tobeornottobeateacher @wolfeyedwitch @canigetanamenforbritney @ladygwennn @onlywhump @suspicious-whumping-egg @classicplesiosaur @lemongrass404 @defective-angel-13 @alainayumira @spiccykels @jadeocean46910 @icarusinstatic @will-ruadh @pumpkin-spice-whump @michelleswhumpyreblogs @cyberneticfire @tinyreadinglifelight @savagelysarcasticsilence @void-fireworks @dead-whisper @strawberryglitterball @writing-with-olive @rose-pinkie @trans-writes @good-intentioned-kidnapping @break-so-beautifully @watercolorfreckles @bliss757 @nomadghost @cake-lovin-ace @viitalvoiid @hurting-fictional-people @melancholy-in-the-morning @lailan-rosie @deflated-bouncingball

[spencers-renaissance]

can't un-sing a song that's sung.

Summary: The worst thing about it is that Derek isn’t even surprised when he gets the call.

Tags: drug use, overdose, hurt/comfort, guilty derek & hotch, angst with a hopeful ending, bedside vigils, protective derek & hotch NO MCD

Pairing: Gen (Platonic Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid; Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid)

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Major TWs, obviously. I'm just so angry that no-one did anything about Spencer's addiction in season two, so I decided to punish Derek and Hotch by having the (almost) worst-case scenario come to fruition. Fic inspired by this gifset & title from this poem (v short but v poignant) Fills the 'Overdose' square on my Bad Things Happen Bingo card.

The worst thing about it is that Derek isn’t even surprised when he gets the call.

His heart sinks, of course, and his stomach feels like it bottoms out. His chest tightens and he struggles to breathe for a minute and a half, his hands clamming up as his tongue freezes and he can’t find the words to respond to Hotch over the phone. But he isn’t surprised. And that, when it really and truly comes down to it, is exactly where his sins lie.

He races as quickly as he can to the hospital, not obeying the traffic laws by any stretch of the imagination as his hands grip so tightly at the steering wheel that his knuckles turn white and the pattern of the leather; the seams where it's sewn imprint themselves on his palm. His heart pounds rapidly and it’s all he can hear, blood thudding in his ears as the tight knot of anxiety sits heavy in his stomach.

He’s just pulling into the hospital car park when he realises that the last time he felt like this — God, the last time he felt like this was when he first realised Spencer was missing all those months ago. He heaves a dry sob as he abandons his car in a space he hopes is the right one, and slams his palm down hard on the steering wheel once.

He allows himself one more guilt-ridden, heartbroken sob before he forces himself to calm down, doing his best to ignore the tumultuous emotions raging inside him as he shuts the car door behind him and hurries towards the entrance.

It’s hard not to cry when he first locks eyes on Hotch. Seeing his calm, stoic supervisor in a state of utter disarray — red-rimmed eyes, messed up hair, ruffled clothes — somehow makes this all seem a bit too real. Maybe in the car ride over he’d still clung to a small, pathetic bit of hope that this is all a nightmare, that he’ll wake up in a minute and he’ll drive to work and Spencer will already be at his desk, beavering away.

In the harsh lights and bustling noise of the hospital corridor, he knows that’s not going to happen.

They don’t say anything as they stare at one another, both clearly struggling to bite back the raw emotion threatening to spill from their eyes, to unleash itself in a full blown meltdown. Eventually, Hotch sits back down and buries his face in his hands, and Derek joins him on the little two-seater bench.

He doesn’t claim to know much about hospitals or medical care in general, but he knows for damn sure that waiting on a bench outside the ICU is not good, and he’s doing everything in his power to not think about that too hard.

They’ve been sat in stony silence for countless minutes before Derek finally lifts his head, though he still can’t bring himself to look at Hotch again. “Have you called the others?”

Hotch swallows, and Derek can see the tear-tracks trailing down the side of his face out of the corner of his eye. He pretends not to notice them.

“No,” he says, voice unsettlingly shaky. “Only you.”

He decides now is not the time to dwell on that. “Is he— is he going to lose his job?”

The only reason none of them had done anything sooner was because they knew how important this job is to Spencer. And Derek hates with a burning, roaring passion that their hesitation; their cowardly delay, might have cost him his life instead. Just the thought brings another choked sob from his lips, and this time the tears come with it. Before he knows it, his shoulders are shaking violently and all the emotions Derek is struggling to name finally come pouring out, right into Hotch’s lap.

He feels an arm wrap around him and he’s too broken not to lean into it, seeking comfort from the one person in the entire world who can offer it right now. Falling apart in his superior’s arms is not how he saw his Thursday evening going, but he’s too exhausted to care.

By the time he finally pulls away, Hotch is crying too, and they sit a little closer on the bench.

“Spencer won’t lose his job,” he says determinedly, looking Derek in the eyes. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Derek knows that they will have to lie. Papers will be forged and Hotch will be backed into an impossible corner, and he knows that they could lose their jobs if they are ever found out. He doesn’t fucking care. They’ve already failed Spencer in a disgusting, immeasurable, utterly unforgivable way, and he’ll be damned if they ever do that again.

“Good,” he says, and that’s the end of that.

Derek doesn’t understand most of what the doctor tells them, but he doesn’t really care that much for the technicalities anyway. All he cares about is that Spencer had overdosed in the parking garage of his building and was found by a neighbour he doesn’t even know that well. He cares that a damn near stranger was there for Spencer when he wasn’t, and he cares that Hotch was called as his emergency contact, and as such, Derek can finally step up. He can walk into his room and hold his hand and tell him that he’s here now, and he’s not leaving again.

He cares that Spencer is going to be okay.

He’s still asleep when they’re finally allowed to take their seats by his bedside, and Derek tries very hard not to cry at the sight of him, but it isn’t easy. There’s still a bluish tint to his fingernails, and he looks pale and clammy under the oxygen mask. Medicine drips slowly into the line connected to the cannula in the crook of his elbow, and the heart rate echoing out from the monitors is still alarmingly quick.

The evidence of Derek’s failings is staring him right in the face, and it’s hard not to turn away, but he refuses to let himself. He has a lot to make up to Spencer, but he can damn well start by sitting with him here in his darkest hour.

“We all knew.”

Derek looks up from Spencer’s hand to meet Hotch’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“We all knew, and we didn’t do anything about it.” The guilt in Hotch’s voice is momentous enough to rival Derek’s own, and it hurts to hear. Derek failed Spencer as a colleague and a friend-maybe-something-more, but Hotch failed him as a father figure.

He feels tears well up in his eyes again and he does his best to swallow them back down. “Emily did.”

A violent sob tears itself out of Hotch’s lungs, and it’s so loud that Derek almost flinches. “And isn’t that just so much worse? She barely knows him! I met him at lunch with Gideon when he was nineteen, I’ve known him for seven years! Before all of this went down, he almost called me ‘dad’. And I sat back and watched him suffer with both the PTSD of being kidnapped and the fucking heroin addiction he developed because of that bastard, and I did nothing!”

Derek’s at a loss as he watches Hotch break down in front of him, his voice breaking as he shouts, tears streaming down his face as he dissolves into sobs.

“He’s never gonna forgive me. Nor should he. I can’t stand myself right now.”

A little uncertain of the right thing to do, Derek stands up and crosses to the other side of the bed and wraps his arms around Hotch like he did for him only hours earlier. “We all fucked up,” he agrees, “but we’ll get through this. We might never forgive ourselves, but we can always do better. We can do right by Spencer as he recovers, we can help him get clean, help him keep his job, remind him of how loved he is. We can’t abandon that duty just because we failed at doing it before.”

Hotch sits back up and wipes at his eyes furiously, casting his eyes on Spencer. He reaches a hand out and brushes it through his short but untamed curls tenderly, his thumb caressing his eyebrow and forehead gently.

“I know,” he says quietly. “I won’t fail him again.”

Both Derek and Hotch spring into action as soon as Spencer stirs, waking up slowly through the layers of sleep until he’s staring at both of them with a look of terrified uncomprehension in his eyes.

“Hey,” Hotch says softly, hand moving to cup the side of his face. “You’re alright, you’re safe. You’re in the hospital with me and Derek, and everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Spencer slowly looks around the room as the realisation of what’s going on slowly dawns on him, and soon the anxiety is replaced with abject horror and to Derek’s dismay, he immediately starts to cry.

“Hey, hey, pretty boy,” he murmurs as soothingly as he can, following Hotch’s suit and tangling his fingers in Spencer’s hair. “Don’t worry about anything right now, okay? Hotch and I are gonna fix everything right up, and we’re gonna help you. We’re gonna help you like we should’ve helped you before.”

He hates that he loses his composure slightly at the end, but Spencer relaxes slightly so he takes it as a win.

“You can go back to sleep now, Spencer,” Hotch says gently, spotting the signs of exhaustion easily. “We’re gonna stay right here with you, okay? We’ll be here when you wake up.”

When he does finally awaken again, he explains through tears and strangled breaths that he didn’t mean to, that he wasn’t trying to die, he was just so tired and in so much pain that he hadn’t calculated the dosage right.

Hotch and Derek calmly explain that they’re not judging him, and that they’re going to help him through the hospital’s rehab program. Spencer refuses their apologies but they repeat them anyway, trying not to show just how much they hate themselves as they do.

They rope Penelope in, and she helps them make sure Spencer keeps his job, but otherwise their team is entirely oblivious to their chaotic and regret-filled Saturday night spent in George Washington University Hospital.

Most of all, though, Derek does absolutely everything in his power to make sure Spencer is happy, no matter how torn-up and scarred he might feel when he goes home to his own apartment. It isn’t much compared to his property business and his coveted role at the FBI’s behavioural analysis unit, but to Derek it’s his most important and worthy mission in life.

And if that spirals into something more, well. Maybe that’s just one good thing to come out of that small, stuffy, heartbreak-riddled ICU room.

taglist: @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @enbyspencer @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids (add yourself to my taglist via this form!!)

[imagine-overwatch-heroes]

Coming Home | Soldier76 x Reader

Pairing: Soldier76 x Reader (They/Them) Rating: M for blood / violence Word Count: 2663 Summary: After the recall it is time to find your way back home. After some effort you just manage to drag yourself back to your commander with your last ounce of strength. Warnings: // Blood 

"And what exactly are we doing here?" "Recruiting a new agent. Kind of." McCree shook his head and threw his cigar to the floor, stepping on it with his boot to put out the embers. He looked at Soldier:76 out of the corner of his eye, but didn't dare talk back. Together with Genji, he stood behind the commander, both silently staring at the huge factory building in front of them. It was a run-down area and for miles there was nothing but crime and violence. And this was the place where the new agent was supposed to stay? "They can't have a clean slate if they've been living in this shithole...," growled McCree grumbling sullenly, and Genji also tilted his head thoughtfully. Soldier:76 however, tensed his shoulders and went off, stepped through the entrance to the hall, and the two agents followed him with extreme caution. "You should still know them well," said the commander quietly and the three of them ventured further into the interior of the factory hall. Machines and discontinued models of an old Meka series filled the hall down to the last inch; it was more of a storage room than a factory. From the distance, a metal clang approached, but it was still several hundred meters before they reached the source of the sound.

"What do you mean?" McCree asked and he climbed over a pile of rusty metal bars. "This agent saved your ass back in Marseilles. Good agent, we need them." replied Sodlier:76 and immediately McCree growled angrily. He grabbed his superior's shoulder and stopped him from going any further into the darkness. "Are you insane?!" the cowboy hissed emphatically, and Genji didn't seem too thrilled that you of all people should find your way back to the Overwatch base after the recall. "Morrison, they only caused us trouble! Constantly disobeying orders - I thought you were such a fan of obedience?!". "I'm well aware of that!" 76 snarled at McCree, and with a jerk he evaded his firm grip. "But in case you haven't noticed, I am no longer Strike Commander Morrison. And right now we need agents with a decent moral compass!" "Moral compass," Jesse repeated disparagingly, and he reached for a cigar, too upset not to smoke. "Damn it, Jack! That person is trouble!" "You can wait for us at the pickup point," growled 76, and he looked at Genji, who didn't bother to act the way McCree did. The cyborg didn't like you back then, but that was before he met Zenyatta - he was an angry man back then, now he was almost curious to meet you and talk to you. Maybe you had defeated your demons and had become a different person, too? "Who knows, maybe they're even in contact with Talon by now," the cowboy tried again and he looked at Soldier:76 with a fiery look. "Jack, think this over carefully." "To the pickup point, agent." the commander replied coolly. McCree cursed softly, yet he obeyed the order and turned around, snapped the latch on his holster and stomped off, out of the hall and back into daylight.

The factory building ended in a small extension - it was a room full of pinboards and large screens, a metal table in the middle, loaded to the top with papers and files, maps and notebooks. In the midst of the chaos of information, you stood with your back to the door and listening to the footsteps of your visitors. "Jack, oh my - what a surprise, really." You sounded bored and did not even look up from your screen. "You're late. Thought you'd come to me much earlier." "Very funny.", he rumbled and let his gaze wander over the screens and pin boards on the walls. "What's all this?" "A project." you replied evasively and finally turned to him, greeting Genji with a nod. "So you're still looking for Talon agents." Soldier:76 asked further and he came a little closer, looking at the largest screen littered with lists and geographic data. "Pretty daring, all by yourself. You're really asking for them to find you." "I know why you're here." you changed the subject and put a stack of files on your crowded desk and sighed deeply. "And you can leave again. I have no more patience for Overwatch business." "If you continue to look for Talon so conspicuously, they will find you - and you know that." Soldier76 continued. "But if you come back to Overwat-" "No!", you hissed and gave him an angry look. "Jack, I want nothing more to do with you! I thought I made that clear in our last conversation!" For a moment he was silent, wanted to say something to you, but you didn't want to hear it. Your last meeting hadn't gone too well, it had been a mixture of broken hearts and the end of Overwatch. Back when he was Jack Morrison. Back when everything ended in a huge explosion in Switzerland. There was no need for you to relive those terrible memories. "Go away." you growled and turned away. "Now." "We didn't come all the way over here just to-", 76 started, but you cut him off with an impatient growl. Did he really think he could just walk in here and pack you in like a piece of luggage? He hadn't lost his arrogance! Even though he called himself Soldier:76 instead of Jack Morrison, he was still the demanding and proud man of his day. Genji watched your interaction in silence, but he decided to intervene before the situation escalated. "I think that we can help each other," he tried to appeal to your logic, but you just waved away impatiently. Since when was the cyborg such a peaceful contemporary? At your last encounter it almost degenerated into a fisticuffs and suddenly he tried to act as a middleman? "Get lost, both of you!" you repeated emphatically and opened one of the notebooks. A clear hint that this conversation was over and whether Soldier:76 wanted to or not - he had to disappear without you. He seemed to realize that at that moment, too, and he turned to Genji, nodded invitingly, and after a brief sideways glance at you, the two of them disappeared again into the shadows of the hall.

Who would have thought that a bullet wound hurts that much? Shot shattered the skin, dug deep into the flesh and even if you didn't know for sure - it felt like the splinters were stuck in your bones. The burning sun in Gibraltar didn't make it any better and the stony cliffs didn't provide any shade to protect you. With your last ounce of strength you had made your way to the old Overwatch base, but you couldn't drag yourself much further. Your tired eyes saw a blonde woman and you didn't have to look twice to recognize her. It was Angela Ziegler, the talented doctor Overwatchs. Even then she had been a true miracle worker, saving patients that other doctors would have given up on - Genji for example. How lucky that you met her of all people! "Hey, Angela-!", you tried to draw attention to yourself as you stomped out from behind one of the communication towers, one hand on the metal paneling of the tower and the other on your bleeding shoulder. Your escape through what felt like half of Spain hadn't gone too smoothly and in the end the dogged Reaper had caught you not far from the watchpoint and a load of his shotgun had grazed you. A powerful slap in the face and the loud crackling suggested that the warm blood on your lips was caused by a broken nose. That bastard really wanted to make it personal by kicking you in the face. Seemed as you had angered the Reaper, huh? Blue eyes turned to you in wonder and Mercy's face collapsed completely when she recognized your silhouette. She seemed to be enjoying the sun a little bit herself, for once she didn't bury herself in her research and the infirmary. When she saw you, however, she immediately ran, came towards you and carefully grabbed you by the shoulders. "Mein Gott, what are you doing here, I- Oh no, your shoulder, let me see..." "Jack," you brought out between the bloody lips. "Get me Jack. Now." "Dear, you really must come to my ward, I have to..." Mercy tried to talk to you, but you silenced her forcefully. "A-Angela, I have to talk to Jack," you groaned and sank to your knees, followed by the blond doctor who caught you. "It's Talon, he was right, I-" "Lena, go get Jack-I mean, go get Soldier:76!" Mercy instructed the shocked tracer who watched the carnage and looked somewhat startled. Up until a few seconds ago, the normally vivacious agent had been feeding a few seagulls on the cliff, but once she noticed Mercy rushing up to you, she was on the spot, watching you with big, worried eyes. On Mercy's orders she nodded and with a blue veil she disappeared into the base, looking for the Commander. "Let me see." Mercy pushed down the collar of your top and briefly examined the wound on your shoulder. "A deep wound, looks like a shotgun..." "Reaper," you responded, briefly. "These inferno shotguns are unpleasant at close range, hah." "You're lucky that it didn't hit you full on." she replied, slipping the blouse off her shoulders to press the cloth onto the wound to stop the bleeding at least a little. "Your nose looks broken, but I'll have to examine it more closely." "It's okay, really-" you tried to get rid of her, but you didn't stand a chance against the stubborn doctor. She squeezed the wound on your shoulder and grabbed your upper arm with her free hand to pull you up from the floor. A painful moaning escaped you as you stood on your own two legs and Mercy worriedly watched out for Tracer and Soldier:76 but there was still no sign of them. "Okay, you're going to need a pressure bandage...," Mercy murmured, more to herself than you, looking toward the base entrance. "There's a first-aid kit in the conference room, I'm going to get it. It'll only take a few minutes. You stay here and I mean right here, you got that?" You nodded silently and she took your hand and pressed it against her blouse on your shoulder. "Press it gently. It's best to sit down again and don't move. I'd like to take you to the infirmary, but it's better if the first-aid kit comes to you first." The blond doctor explained and her blue eyes looked at you worriedly. "Don't run away, okay?" "Very funny," you gasped and Mercy hurried away, hurrying into the base to at least get a pressure bandage on your injury. Your shoulder was burning and the dazzling pain seemed to spread further and further into your body - alone it was much harder to bear. Your eyes looked around searching for agents, but there was no one to see but you. Was Soldier:76 really so stupid and had the security so lax? On shaky legs you dared to take a step forward, but you regretted it instantly. Your knees were soft like rubber and your legs almost gave way, but you were able to hold yourself upright with the last of your strength. Tracer was fast like the wind, what took her so long? The rumbling of heavy military boots on metal made you sigh with relief and you saw a figure coming towards you - it was Soldier:76. Finally. "Jack-!" you tried to call out to him, but your voice was fragile and you produced nothing more than a hoarse groan. Fuck, your shoulder hurt so much! Bravely you took another step forward, but your broken ribs made every movement a torture and Mercy's blouse was soaked with your blood. Your knees softened under all the pain and adrenaline and you almost fell over in front, but at the very last moment you felt him grab your waist and catch you. Your body leaned against his chest and you leaned your forehead against the cool texture of his leather jacket, relieved to see him. "What happened?" 76 asked immediately and he helped you sit down, took the cloth from your shoulder and examined your wound, pulled his brows together in concern. "Talon." you choked out and tried to take deep breaths, but your muscles began to shake uncontrollably. How could it be so warm and so cold at the same time in Gibraltar? Your skin shivered under painful goose bumps and your shaky hands clung helplessly to his leather jacket. "Jack, I- It hurts." you moaned and tried to wipe the blood from your face with the back of your hand, but your bleeding nose was burning like hell and quickly you let it go. "I know." he replied, and his hand stroked your hair, running down your cheek and up to your chin to lift it. "You took quite a beating there." He sat down on the floor beside you, grabbed your upper body with great care and pulled you towards him so that you could lean against his chest. Every breath was worse than the previous one and your broken ribs felt like your chest was being crushed with force. "I hate it when you're right.", you muttered and buried your face in the crook of his neck, smelling the blood and the leather of his jacket. An amused snort briefly shook your position, and if he could laugh at your remark, you were probably not in mortal danger - even if it felt that way. "Sucks, now I have to work for Overwatch again." "It wasn't that bad back then," he replied and you felt him gently pushing a strand of hair out of your face. "You were the one who robbed me of the last nerve." "Hah, true." you sighed and looked up at him. Since when was it so hard to keep your eyes open? "Jack, he wasn't looking for me. He wanted you." "That was to be feared after all that happened." he replied in a harsh voice. For a brief moment, he looked old and exhausted, as if the chase between him and Gabriel Reyes would exhaust his last strength - but as quickly as that moment had come, it disappeared again. "I was hoping that nobody except me would get hurt though." "Your security system sucks, by the way." "Mmh, we'll really have to increase them if someone like you can just walk in here." he agreed with you and behind you the sound of heels on the floor was heard. Mercy hurriedly ran towards you, a first-aid kit under your arm and a little pale in the face. Of course, she was a rock in the surf, collected and calm as usual, but seeing you again after all these years had been a surprise for the blonde doctor. She fell on her knees next to you and immediately started to work on your wound, applying a handful of compresses to stop the bleeding. "Take them to the ward," she told Soldier:76 and he nodded, stood up and with the greatest of care put one hand under your back and the other under the back of your knees. You were picked up from the ground by the commander as if you were as light as a rag doll and Mercy continued to scurry around you, checking your pulse and asking you for more injuries. Except for your shoulder, broken ribs and a probably broken nose, you didn't seem to be injured any further. "Jack..." At your faint murmur, he pressed you a little closer to his chest, but said nothing. Even if you didn't want to rejoin Overwatch, having Morrison at your side was reassuring.

[raccoon-is-my-spirit-animal]

Finn, Tommy and the Mouse Trap

A/N: this GIF is just the cutest. So here’s another fic for you all. I think I kinda strayed from the original Home Alone concept, but I still think this is fun :)

Summary: The Home Alone Peaky Blinders Series Featuring 10 y/o Finn Shelby part 3. Tommy wants Finn to help during a business meeting and it is all fun and games until it goes wrong.

 part 1, Part 2, Part 4, part 5, part 6

Warning: minor violence

---

“Finnigan, I need your help! Where are you? Finn!” Tommy burst in the kitchen and found his brother sitting at the table, together with Ada. Finn didn’t even look up when Tommy entered the room, pretending to be immersed in the morning paper. Ada smiled to herself as she saw what Finn was doing: he was the spitting image of Polly. He sat there, cross-legged with the paper in one hand and a cup of dark tea in the other. Without looking away from the paper, Finn sipped his tea, which turned out to be too hot and as nonchalantly as he could he spit his mouthful back into the cup. Ada bit her lip not to laugh aloud and ruin her little brother’s play. Finn wasn’t reading the paper. He couldn’t even read, although ever since John found that one funny joke in the paper, Finn looked through them every morning. But this wasn’t about the paper. Finn was still angry at Tommy for forgetting him in London. And rightly so, Ada thought. Tommy knew it too and sighed. “Finn,” he said in a softer tone, “I need your help today, eh? I am meeting with the head of a rival family. A man named--” “—Paul Loveridge, I know,” Finn said, still not looking up. Tommy was taken aback. “How the bloody hell do you know that?” Finn put down his cup of tea and straightened out the paper. “Alfie told me,” he answered simply. “Alfie told you?” Tommy repeated incredulously. He spread out his arms in confusion. “How?” “Alfie and I kept in touch. He writes me a letter every week and tells me how my booby traps are working. Last week he also told me you would be meeting with this Loveridge fellow.” Tommy was astonished. He turned to Ada, “You knew about this?” he asked. “I’ve been writing Finn’s letters, Tom. The boy can’t write.” It was quiet for a few seconds while Tommy processed what he had just heard. “Alright,” he said at last, “alright. I’ll deal with that later. The point is that, now, Finn, I need your help in dealing with Loveridge.” Finn seemed to think about this. Then he folded the paper away and looked his brother in the eye for the first time that morning. “Fine,” he said, “but I want a reward.” Again, Ada had to hide her smirk behind her hand. “Name your price,” Tommy said. “I want a gun,” Finn said eagerly. “Absolutely not.” “A horse.” “No.” “A --” “And no puppies.” Finn scowled. His eyes flicked across the room and finally landed on the cap that was tucked away in Tommy’s pocket. His face cleared. “Then I want a cap,” he said, “with a blade sewn in it.” Tommy considered the proposition. “Alright,” he finally said, and Ada looked up in indignation about Tommy being willing to let Finn have such a weapon. But Tommy wasn’t done yet. “You can have a cap. Just like us and with a blade, but,” and he held up his finger, “the blade will be blunt until you learn how to handle it.” Finn nodded, “that’s fair.” And the little boy offered his hand to his big brother. Tommy took shook the hand with a small smile. “Let’s get to work then.”

“So I just need to sit here and wait?” Finn asked sceptically. “No, you sit here, and you pay attention. And if you see somebody or somebodies we don’t expect, you warn us,” Tommy explained. Finn twisted his brand-new cap in his hand. “Why me?” he asked eventually. “Well, you are the only one small enough to hide in those tubes, hmm?” Finn nodded, but he didn’t look up. This morning he had wanted nothing more than to help his brothers with their business, but now that the time was there, he couldn’t help but feel a bit queasy. John saw, of course it was John, and placed a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Oi, there is nothing to worry about. You only have to warn us if something happens and it may not happen at all.” Again, Finn nodded, but this time he also gave his big brother a little smile. “Right, then,” he said and he put on his very own Peaky Blinder cap.

 In the end, Finn felt stupid for having felt so nervous. He had been waiting in the big stone, tube for at least an hour and nothing had happened. The stone was not a comfortable seat and he shifted in the tube to find a more comfortable position. His gaze swept over the empty courtyard one last time before his attention shifted to the litter that lay in the tube. Some wooden planks, rusty nails, papers and even a box with matches. He sighed and wanted to close his eyes for a bit when his gaze fell on a mousetrap. It was empty and looked like it hadn’t been used before. In fact, it wasn’t even set. Finn carefully picked it up and studied it. Of course, he had seen a mouse trap before; Aunt Polly used them in the shop but ever since Ada stepped in one of them as a child, Polly was careful to keep them away from Finn. Now, after fiddling with it for a bit, he figured out how to set the trap. Take that, Aunt Poll, he thought, I am not like Ada at all. Finn put the mouse trap in his pocket. At least one good thing to keep from this boring meeting, he thought. But then he heard it. Actually, he had been hearing for a little while, but Finn’s mind had unconsciously dismissed it as unimportant while he was studying his trap. And that had been a mistake. Now, the sound of numerous footsteps approaching over the gravel could not be ignored anymore. Finn’s head shot up, but he forgot he was hidden in a tube. With a beng his head hit the top of the tube and his cap fell over his eyes and he couldn’t see anything anymore. He didn’t see how the men came closer and didn’t see how one man pointed in his direction when they heard the loud sound coming from the tube. Only when two pairs of hands reached in the tube, did Finn finally see what was happening. But by then it was already too late.

 The man holding Finn stank of tobacco and sweat. He was tall and muscular and with one hand he had twisted Finn’s arm behind his back. With the other hand, the man held a loaded gun against Finn’s temple. Finn felt the cold metal digging into his skin as he stumbled along with the long steps of his captor. The Loveridges, for these were undoubtedly the cronies of Paul Loveridge, violently pushed the doors open to the room where Tommy, John and Arthur were having their meeting with the head of the Loveridge family. Finn flinched when the doors banged open, but he was quickly put into place by the man, who dug his gun further against Finn’s head. “Look what we found outside, Paul,” the man said and laughed, “an imp spying in the tubes.” Finn’s cheeks began to burn with shame as he looked at his brothers. John had immediately started to walk forward, but Arthur had stopped him, although he himself was breathing heavily with supressed anger. Both men’s eyes glimmered with hatred. Tommy’s face remained stony as ever, though Finn saw how he clenched his fists until the knuckles saw white. Tommy looked over Finn for a moment, checking if he wasn’t hurt, before his eyes flicked towards Paul. “Release the boy, Mr. Loveridge,” he simply said. Paul chuckled, but there was no joy in it. “No,” he said slowly, “I don’t think I will.” He stood up walked over to the man who was holding Finn in his iron grip. Without turning back to Tommy, Paul began to speak. “You see, Mr. Shelby, a moment ago you were telling me you held all the strings, and that it would be best if I just complied to your wishes. But now,” and now he did turn around, “I think the roles are reversed.” Finn couldn’t take it anymore. With a burning hatred he spat on the ground, right next to the shoes of Paul Loveridge. The gang leader started and almost jumped in the air. Like a snake, he turned back and moved so close to Finn, the boy could smell his breath. It was bad. “You little rat,” Paul sneered and at the same time, Finn’s captor twisted Finn’s arm a little further. An audible gasp escaped from Finn’s mouth before he bit his lip, refusing to give in to the pain. Suddenly Arthur’s voice boomed across the room. “You leave him be, Loveridge! Get your bastard hands off him.” The man’s grip on Finn’s arm loosed just enough for Finn to draw a shaky breath of relieve. The conversation in the room turned back to the topic of who ‘had all the strings in hands’, but Finn had stopped listening. An idea had popped up in his head. When Paul made him out for a rat, Finn suddenly thought of the mouse trap that was still in his pocket. He only had to grab it and luckily, he still had one hand free. He quickly moved the arm that wasn’t held back, but his captor didn’t notice. The man was too absorbed in the powerplay that was happening before his eyes. Ever so slowly, Finn moved his hand to his pocket and slowly drew out the set trap. He glanced around to see if anybody was paying attention to what he was doing, but no one looked his way. Except John. His big brother’s eyes widened as he saw what Finn was holding. Finn looked in his eyes and saw what John was thinking but couldn’t say aloud. Don’t do it Finn, don’t you fucking dare. Finn held John’s gaze a moment longer and then looked away. He hoped the message was clear. I don’t give a flying fuck, John. You are not the one being held at gunpoint. Still moving as slowly as possible, Finn brought the trap behind his back to where he thought the man’s arm should be. He closed his eyes, please let this work, and then shoved the trap on the man’s arm. For a moment nothing happened. Then he heard a tiny snap and a roar that sounded like a dying whale erupted in the room. The man screamed out in pain and let go of Finn’s arm. Immediately, the boy moved. With a practiced movement, he shoved his elbow in the man’s stomach, who doubled over and let go of the gun. Finn kicked it hard and darted away from the grasping hands of the Loveridges. He nearly bumped into Paul Loveridge, but Finn was done being taken by surprise. “You bastard!” he yelled and brought his foot down hard on Paul’s toes before he ran to the safety of his brothers. He crashed against Arthur, who wrapped his arms around him so tight, Finn could barely breath. But he didn’t mind. “It’s alright, Finn-boy,” Arthur said with a thick voice, “you’re safe now.” Finn felt how John came to stand next to them and felt a hand ruffle through his hair. “Where the fuck did you get a mouse trap, eh?” John whispered, but Finn only buried his face in Arthurs coat. “Right, then, Mr. Loveridge,” Tommy said, “I’ll be sure to tell everybody you wanted to use a ten-year-old boy as a barging chip in a business meeting. I’ll also mention that said boy proceeded to beat both you and your crony in a matter of minutes. We are done here.” And the four Shelby brothers walked out of the room, but John turned around one more time. “Good luck with your foot, bastard.”

 Finn was wrapped in a blanket and held a cup of tea in his hands. Finn carefully took a sip and found that this time it was drinkable. Evening had fallen and it was getting cold. But that wasn’t the only reason why Finn huddled deeper under his blanket. Again, he felt the point of the gun digging against his head and shuddered. Softly, a knock came on the door and Finn looked up. Tommy came in and closed the door behind him. “Hello, Finn, are you feeling better?” he asked. Finn thought again of the events of that afternoon. “Still a bit shaky,” he admitted after a moment. Tommy nodded. “I understand,” he said, “mind if I sit?” Finn shook his head and scooched over, so that there was room for Tommy to sit on the couch. “Listen,” Tommy began, “I—I am sorry. For everything.” Finn was dumbstruck. What the fuck am I hearing? Did he bang his head against a lamppost on the way home? But he said nothing. He knew better than to interrupt his brother now. Tommy went on, “I shouldn’t have asked you to help us today. It was too dangerous.” Finn started to say something, but his brother wasn’t done yet. “And, I am also sorry for forgetting you in London. It won’t happen again.” Finn wasn’t so sure about that, but he appreciated the apology anyway. “It is okay, Tommy, it wasn’t your fault and we all made it out alive.” Tommy smiled a small smile, “I’m glad you aren’t angry anymore. Anyway, we still have to give your reward.” Finn furrowed his brows. “What reward? I already got the cap, didn’t I?” “Ah yes,” Tommy said, “but that was the reward for agreeing to help us. I am talking about the reward for stepping on that bastard’s toes.” Finn let out a shy smile, “yeah, I don’t think that will ever heal again.” Now, Tommy’s face split open in a real genuine smile. “I hope not. Arthur, John, bring him in!” Finn watched as John opened the door and he, Arthur and Ada came in. All three were grinning like lunatics and Finn saw that his eldest brother was holding both hands behind his back. The boy craned his neck to see what Arthur was holding, but luckily Ada was just as impatient as he was. “Oh for the love of God, Art, just show it to him!” Arthur grinned and with a majestic whirl of his hands he pulled the surprise from behind his back. “Tadaa!” John yelled enthusiastically and for the second time that evening, Finn was speechless. The surprise wiggled in Arthur’s hands and it let out a soft bark. The three looked expectantly at their little brother, who seemed to have lost the ability to speak. “It’s a dog, Finn,” John said helpfully when Finn didn’t say anything. “I know,” Finn said softly and with hoarse voice. He had a lump in his throat, so he didn’t say anything else, he only held out his hands. Arthur, with a big smile, slowly dropped the puppy in Finn’s lap. It was a beautiful animal. A black and white border collie with one ear upright and the other flapped down. The puppy barked again and wiggled its tail while Finn scratched it behind its ears, still not able to fully process what was happening. “We thought you deserved him after today,” Tommy said, “do you like him?” Finn looked up at his brother. “I like him very much,” he whispered. He looked back the puppy and laughed as the dog barked for a third time, demanding another scratch behind the ears. Only now, Finn saw that the puppy had two different eyes, one brown and one stale blue. “Do you have a name?” Ada asked. Finn tilted his head and looked at the black and white fluff ball in his lap as he thought of a name.

“Frankie,” he smiled at last.

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 33 – Nice to See You at Last, You Rat

“Lady Lunark...?”

The voice could not be softer, but the werewolf warrior jerked as if she were touched by fire.

In turn, she caused an almost identical motion in the young warrior who addressed her.

“Uh... Your order, please...”

She turned her head, doing a terrible job of hiding that she is dreadfully keen on her leader’s mood.

Lunark directed her eyes towards the two rookie warriors, who were just as conscious of her as they stared in waiting.

They happened to be standing in one of Union’s facilities, officially dubbed as “dispository.”

Based on the Union dictionary, “disposal” comes with a definition different from its counterpart in the civilian world.

The process of disposing something does exist, but irredeemable, permanent disposal is a highly rare case in Union.

Because it is Union belief that even the most useless, outdated file or source could one day shine in the future.

For this reason, every file or source deemed “to be disposed of” follows two steps: (1) its online copies are deleted, and (2) it is duplicated into physical, hard-copy format to be disposed-slashed-stored.

And this is when a dispository comes in handy.

Although she was once an elder of the Union, Lunark could not remember the last time she was at a dispository.

She was back to her main task: discovering and shutting down Union’s facilities, especially those that were in possession of Crombell.

She remembered how she could only suck her thumb as she came across one facility after another already shut down by someone else.

However, for once she landed upon a facility with its doors locked, not sealed for good.

Which is why the three young warriors assigned for today’s mission seemed clueless about what to do.

“First we must get rid of all evidence that could hint our presence. Judging by the location and the order of shutdown for each of the facilities we ran upon, the rat who had been ahead of us all this time will be here. So let’s get ready for our guest.”

The warriors immediately got busy, and so Lunark was given time to get engrossed in her thoughts.

Her reasons were hammering her head that she should not let herself get distracted when she is outside for business, but her head was beyond her control.

She could not help but recall once again the conversation she had prior to this trip.

*****

In spite of the invasion by Union’s weapons against noble heads of clans and failure in initial activation of QuadraNet, werewolves regained peace.

Or rather, they could shake off the confusion, which unfortunately did not apply to everybody.

For instance, a certain werewolf who ended up thwacking her human crush’s lips with hers was still very far from peace.

The problem was that she had to make it so obvious that something was bothering her, and wherever she went she made the occupants tiptoe with nervousness.

In the end, Muzaka summoned her in privacy for a talk.

“Are you really planning to zip your mouth for good?”

“...I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, my lord.”

“Playing pretend, are we? Well, I should’ve known, based on your atmosphere for the past few days.”

Her eyes were sore, and her tongue was tied. However, her head had never been nimbler.

‘What do I do? Did he notice that I’ve feelings for Frankenstein?’

Lunark was aware that Muzaka does not take kindly the relationship between human and wolfkind. She would not be surprised to find out that he was outright opposed to the idea.

And she would rather make herself Maduke’s stepdaughter than to have Muzaka look into what lies in her heart.

Plus, she knew Muzaka would rather give Maduke a peck on his face than to offer his blessing for her and Frankenstein.

“Is it because of Frankenstein?”

And just like that, Lunark started to wonder if she should start calling the dead werewolf daddy.

Muzaka smirked at how Lunark’s face turned stony.

“Honestly, it’s not that hard to guess. There were only a very few changes in our land lately. Union’s invasion. That blondie’s visit. And trouble with the QuadraNet. But since that blondie happened to have gone around the time you changed, anybody would be able to guess he did something to you. So, is it because of him?”

Despite knowing that silence is definitely not the remedy right now, Lunark could not utter a sound.

Muzaka, on the other hand, was quite unfazed by her silence, which made her question whether she should take it as a good sign.

“I’m sorry, but I say no.”

Muzaka yielded what Lunark had been predicting from him all this time, although the fact that she saw this coming did not stop her mind from crumbling to pieces, to the very bottom of her stupefied body.

“I know I don’t get to play a vote in your relationship. And it’s not like I have power to officially ban you from a relationship. But if I dare give an advice, I do not think this is recommended, Lunark. And I’m sure you know why I can’t say yes. Racial difference serves as no bars in love. I truly loved Eileen, and Ashleen was a gift like no other. To me, they were my entire world.”

Lunark could feel her heart throb as she watched how Muzaka spoke of their names without the slightest flinch.

She could not imagine how many rakes in heart and how much the magnitude of pain he would have gone through until his own family’s names turned mellifluous upon his lips.

Which is why on the other hand, she felt guilty as hell. She actually made Muzaka bring out his deceased family.

“However, our story did not meet a happy ending. Yes, there were bastards that intentionally set fire upon our path. But it does not change the fact that our story is a masquerade of blood, tears, and death.”

Muzaka’s voice remained as placid as it was, but Lunark could not even dare make a face that she wanted to comfort him.

“And as far as I know, I am the starting point of our kind’s taboo regarding relationship with humans. It’s been alive ever since my first era of reign. And I do not wish to see you suffer even little by eyes and ears against relationship with humans.”

“My lord...”

This time Lunark spoke; she did not want to keep her mouth relieved of its duty for the rest of their meeting.

Nonetheless, she could not manufacture any sound afterwards.

“And I have a practical reason as well. As you’d know, Frankenstein is in no situation to get involved in a relationship. Let’s be frank here – and I’m not trying to accuse you – you don’t think you can strike up a good relationship with him at this moment, do you?”

Lunark’s chest seized even harder; this time Muzaka sounded much more legitimate.

“And it looks to me that your feelings are already taking effect upon you. Need I remind you, you’re a warrior – the most influential one, next only to Garda. You should know that you have tons of work allocated to you, and I believe you’re smart enough not to make yourself a hindrance in our kind’s pathway due to unrequited love. However, should you make yourself a hindrance because of your feelings, I must take proper measure as your lord.” 

Muzaka sounded strict, stern, pulling down Lunark’s head even further towards the ground.

Lunark even felt dizzy because his words were as veritable and unbreakable as they could be.

The only reply she could produce was a confirmation, a gratitude, and a promise to be careful.

Her reply was halfhearted, but he would anticipate her to stay true to her words.

And she knew that. She knew that awfully well.

*****

Now that she returned to her field work, she could see that Muzaka was right.

She happened to be agonizing over her feelings at the very scene where she is supposed to get bustling.

She virtually scolded, slapped, and slammed her head to knock it off. She recognized the problem, and she wanted to fix it.

Alas, an elephant is bound to dance in one’s head the more they try not to think of it.

‘Frankenstein... What would you tell me if you figure out what’s with me?’

Would he poke fun at her with that oh-so-impish face, making a condescending show of how he did not expect her to fall for him?

Or would he snap at her that he will have none of her feelings whatsoever?

Lunark could only roll her eyes in her shoes, hopelessly tied to her heart racing to the far end away from her head. That was when the new warriors returned to her.

“Lady Lunark...”

“We just finished the job.”

“Now what should we do?”

Lunark barely managed to hide her wince and answered them.

“Now let us wait. Brace yourselves, all of you. It could take us hours, days, or weeks until we get what we want. But we are not leaving empty-handed. This time we will catch that rat still going about and nipping away what should be our duty.”

Lunark regained her stance as a senior warrior, tall and proud and authoritative.

The new warriors, overwhelmed by her posture, bowed their heads in mixture of anxiety and motivation.

“Now, positions, everybody. You know what to do.”

The three werewolves sang “understood” in synchronization before they jumped into the air, and Lunark followed suit, sneaking into the corner of the dispository that provides the best view of the entire space.

She wished, however, that they would get to stay as long as possible.

She knew that there is no good in taking so long until they could leave.

Yet she wanted to return as late as possible; otherwise she would get to meet Frankenstein again rather too soon.

Lunark grit her teeth in the lowest volume she could pull off, feeling how her lips would boil with heat every time she thought of him.

Sadly for her, it turned out that Lady Luck was certainly not on her side for the day.

She could hear clicks of heels, drawing nearer and growing bigger every second.

In reaction, her muscles tensed with automatic alertness.

After she waited to make out the profile of someone who had been ruining werewolves’ tasks all this time, she got to stare at and scan from head to toe the said someone.

Then suddenly, the visitor’s head violently rotated to a corner of the dispository, and Lunark’s eyes enlarged as she reminded herself who happened to be hiding there.

Bam! Came a thundering noise and a groan of pain.

“What are you? Who do you think you are to spy on me? Well, doesn’t matter. I don’t know how you found me in this place, but you saw my face. Which means you just earned yourself a death sentence.”

Clenching the least competent warrior in the room by the throat, the unknown figure sliced the air with her other hand.

Thud!

Dust and wind were whipped up one more time, along with the impact from Lunark’s feet, when she jumped in just in time to stop a potential carnage.

“And who do you think you are to lay that filthy paw of yours on our warrior? I hope you’re ready for your consequence.”

The woman’s eyes twitched, in clear recognition of the former 5th Elder.

“Nice to see you at last, you rat. You might wanna call your parents right now; you won’t be going home tonight.”

As Lunark bickered, Helga did not even cringe, instead squinting her eyes in a way her eyeballs would bulge out with hostility.

(next chapter)

At last, Muzaka noticed lol. And at last, Lunark found Helga. I may be the writer, but I feel kind of bad for throwing Lunark into two troubles at once. I really wish I can write something fluffy for her very soon! By the way, “dispository” is my creation for this fic. There is a reason why I came up with this facility; however, I will save the reason why for later, for as of now it could serve as a spoiler. Please stay tuned to find out why!

[seven-spirits-of-light]

The Barian Invasion - Avina

Avina cheered as Yuma delivered the finishing blow to Heartland. God, she could watch that asshole eat shit over and over again! Except… his sudden and spontaneous combustion put an abrupt end to that. She stood in shock with everyone else, her jaw dropped in horrified awe. She then realized that Kite was still down, and Yuma was definitely hurtin’ and she went to them.

“Are you guys okay? God, fucking Barians blatantly cheating by putting you in a field that does actual, physical damage to you.” She spat, causing Yuma to chuckle.

“Ah, it’s nothin I can’t handle. I just gotta feel the flow!” He grinned, making the pop star giggle. Before she could say anything more, the huge pillar of light over the ocean caused the world to rumble, and 7 different sparks of light burst from it, flying directly at the group. Avina screamed, pulling Yuma down and covering Kite’s head with her body as best she could. The flying lights slammed into the towering cranes and walls, throwing dust and rock everywhere before gathering together on the wall above the cowering group. She looked up, her eyes fiery with rage, her brain immediately recognizing Vector, Dumon, Mizar, Alito and Girag.

“HEY! DO YOU ASSLORDS HAVE NO DECENCY? YOU COULDA KILLED US!! WHAT’S THE BIG ID-“ she barked, but stopped. It had taken a second… but her mind was finally registering that there were 2 more in the group of Barians.

Two she recognized.

“O-oh… god.” Vance breathed, his eyes wide too.

“Sh-… Shark?” Avina finally spoke. She couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing. There he was. Her Shark. Her boyfriend. The man who held her heart, who made her laugh, who made her smile, who held her when she cried and who could calm her when she raged. There he was, his sister right beside him. The girl her own brother loved more than anything in this world and the next. They stood up with the enemy, glaring down at everyone they had called ‘friend.’

“'Shark?' Feels like ages since anyone called me that…” he finally spoke. Avina gave a breathless laugh, slowly rising to her feet.

“Aha… Ages? Babe I… it’s only been like a day. C’mon, quit fooling around. Like… we’ve got kind of a serious situation here. Do you, uh… wanna explain what’s up with… them? I-I mean… are they on our side now or… something like that?” She asked nervously, her eyes flicking between the other 6 before returning to Shark.

“Hardly, love. You see… Shark was my old name. I am Nasch, Leader of the Seven Barian Emperors, and this world is now ours! You all should surrender now, it would be in your best interest.” He spoke, his voice carrying that unwavering tone she was all too familiar with. As he said this, her eyes welled with tears, and her jaw dropped before clenching shut. She lowered her head, trying to hide her tears.

“You… y-you… you rotten, lying, BACKSTABBING, TWO-FACED SON OF A BITCH!! YOU BASTARD!! YOU SERIOUSLY CHOOSE THEM OVER US!? OVER ME!? FUCK YOU, JUDAS!!” she cried out, her face twisted with rage but eyes pouring with tears.

“I promise you, love, I haven’t chosen them over you. In fact, I intend to have you join us. I promise you, we will be together forever. Nothing will ever be able to part us again.” He said, though his words did little to soothe her. Quite the opposite in fact. Avina made like she was going to charge at him, but Vance luckily caught her, holding her back. He too was crying, unable to remove his eyes from his beloved Rio… the girl who had betrayed him and come to see his destruction. Yuma then rose, trying to reason with Shark, but he took it one step further, revealing to everyone present the undeniable proof of his new alliance. Shark Barian-phosed, along with Rio and the other 5. Not long after he did this, Sha- Nasch and Yuma seemed to share some sort of memory with one another, and Yuma was unable to handle the shock, passing out on the dock. When the pop star saw this, she was agitated further, fighting hard against Vance’s hold to get to the man who had betrayed her love, her trust. Vance held fast though, trying to pull her back toward the Arclight’s vehicle.

“Avina… Avina that’s not gonna help anything. Let’s get out of here, it’s not safe.” Vance urged, pulling his heartbroken sister with him. As they finally drove off, Avina curled into her brother’s chest, the adopted siblings both grieving the loss and betrayal of the ones they loved so dearly.

If only the knew just how much worse things were going to get…

————————————————————

Avina’s chest shuddered with her silent sobs while her brother sat and held her, tears rolling down his cheeks too, too numb to do much else. The pop start could physically feel her heart breaking in her chest, and for a moment… she feared that she would actually die from heartbreak. For a while, the car was silent. No one really knew what to say… everyone was in shock. Shark. Ryouga Kamishiro. Their good friend, Avina’s boyfriend… he had betrayed them. Left them to fight alongside the ones who had been harassing them for months and had been actively trying to kill Astral. Avina was definitely in the worst shape of all. After everything she and Shark had been through… he chose those stone faced assholes over her, over his friends! The people who had stood by his side when no one else would! Not only that… but he planned to turn her into some stone faced monster, too. She wanted nothing more than for this nightmare to end. She wanted to go back home, lay in her bed with her boyfriend and listen to music.

But that wasn’t possible… not anymore. He’d made his choice. He had chose them over her.

Avina’s sorrow turned quickly back to rage and resolve. Nasch wasn’t going to win. No matter what.

Avina glanced out the window, a terrified gasp leaving her as she saw who was pursuing them. Nasch! Nasch and Merag!! Oh fuck, ALL SEVEN were there! They were chasing their vehicle and she could see Nasch and Merag looking right at them! Avina couldn’t stop the look of horror on her face. She turned away, frantically thinking of what she could do when she quickly realized what she had to do.

“V! Stop the car!” She called, causing the white-haired man to jump.

“What! No! Why!?” He asked, glancing back at her as if she were mad.

“They’re chasing us, and if they catch up to this car, they’re gonna get their hands on ALL of us. You have to stop and let me out! I can draw him away. Please! We can’t let Nasch get his hands on either Yuma or Astral, and god forbid he gets them BOTH. So don’t fucking argue with me, and stop the goddamn car.” Avina explained, her franticness making her hiss out the last bit. V looked hesitant, looking to his little brother, but neither III nor anyone else in the vehicle offered any objections.

With a resolute nod, Avina scooted over to the door, taking the handle and preparing to launch herself out of the car once it had stopped, not noticing as Vance prepared to jump from the car too. V hit the breaks, turning just so that she had quick access to an alleyway, and came to a stop. Avina jerked the door open, throwing herself out and onto the street, yelping when Vance followed. She opened her mouth to protest, but when she spotted the seven eerily glowing figures quickly approaching, she huffed, closing the door and grabbing Vance’s wrist.

The adopted siblings took off in a direction adjacent to the vehicle, running into the shows of the alley. Sure enough, the Emperors seemed to pause, and three broke off from the group, following Avina and Vance while the other four continued chasing the vehicle. Fuck. Ok, well, four is better than all seven… and it looked like Nasch and Merag along with one other had decided to follow her and Vance, so the Barians didn’t have their powerhouse leader. Avina prayed that her friends would all be safe as she continued to run. The pop star could see them swooping down closer, and so she began to dip and weave in and out of alleys and behind the many towering buildings of Heartland City. She was gasping for breath, and her sides screamed at her, but she refused to stop. Not yet.

It seemed like an eternity until, finally, she glanced behind them and didn’t see any of the Emperors. Avina pulled Vance with her, hiding in an alley and crouching down in the darkest corners so they could catch their breath. She motioned to Vance to be quiet, creeping forward slightly. Avina could hear footsteps, and out in the street she spotted just who had accompanied Nasch and Merag. It was Dumon, Nasch’s little fanboy. He was looking around, but luckily seemed to have lost them. She couldn’t help the cocky little smirk on her face.

For a moment, she thought she’d won…

That was until she heard the terrifyingly familiar sound of a portal ripping open behind her, and a pair of large, purple stony hands wrapped around her waist.

Avina shrieked, turning to see a similar pair of white stone hands latching around Vance’s chest. She screamed bloody murder, reaching out for her brother and fighting hard against the grip around her.

”NO!! VAAAANCE!!!”

And then gravity was gone. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She was so scared. She had no choice but to cling desperately to her kidnapper.

————————————————————

The Barian King stepped out of the portal carrying the trembling human in his arms, looking around his room. It was elegant yet simply decorated, and in any other situation, he thought Avina might have liked it. He hoped she would still… this was to be her new home after all. Nasch looked down at her, a gorgeous wine-colored gown now draped over her slim figure, a silver metal bust encircling her abdomen. She truly looked like the queen she was meant to be.

“You can open your eyes, love. We’re home now.” He murmured, nuzzling her with his mouthless muzzle. Avina’s eyes flew open and she gasped, looking around before shoving away from him.

“How dare you!? HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!?! YOU- YOU-- YOU BASTARD!! You terrorized all of our friends, you betrayed Yuma, you betrayed me! God, don’t you love me at all!? Am I just- am I just a fucking object to you!? A prize to be won! An item to possess!?” She spat, her furious amethyst eyes boring into him.

“No… you’re… you’re my bride.” Nasch replied.

“Your bride. You seriously think that I would ever WILLINGLY associate with you at all after everything you’ve done, let alone marry you!?” Avina retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. She then paused, glancing down at herself, going silent for a beat too long. Finally, she spoke, her words dripping with seething anger.

”Where… the fuck… are my clothes? What the FUCK is this!?” She growled, her hands clenched into fists.

“You don’t need those rags anymore. You’re going to be a queen, Avina. You deserve the finery befitting a queen. You should see yourself… you look stunning.” Nasch answered evenly. He was trying desperately to keep up the heartless Barian façade, but it was so much harder with her here. She looked so hurt, so upset, so uncomfortable. While she did look beautiful… it was also unnatural.

“Jesus… you really don’t fucking care at all, do you?” She breathed, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest. “God… god I had hoped so desperately that some how, some way, you… the you I know was still in there. But… but he’s gone. My Shark… he’d never try to turn me into something I’m not. He’d never betray his friends. He’d never stoop as low as you.” She wrapped her arms around her torso, hugging herself tightly. In the red glowing light, Nasch could see the trails of tears streaking down her cheeks, and he could no longer maintain the mask. Not in front of her.

“Avina… I… I do care. I know in your anger, you see me and Ryouga as two different people and… while that is true in a way, I promise you I am the same man that you fell in love with. The truth is I really… don’t want to do this. ANY of this. I never wanted to betray my friends, or Yuma… or especially you. But I can’t deny what I am. There are so many souls here that need me, souls that can’t rest until I defeat all threats to our world. Did your Ryouga not share that same dedication?” He asked.

Avina turned away, not seeing the pain in his mismatched eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be like this… I still love you. I love you so deeply. I know you still love me… I can see it in your eyes.” The Emperor continued, approaching her. The hand that was placed on her shoulder wasn’t one of stone… it was flesh. Avina jumped slightly.

“You know I want you

It’s not a secret I try to hide

I know you want me

So don't keep sayin' our hands are tied.” his voice came drifting to her ear, warm and inviting and distinctly human.

“You claim it's not in the cards

And fate is pullin' you miles away

And out of reach from me

But you're here in my heart

So who can stop me if I decide

That you're my destiny?”

Avina turned to him, looking up into his beautiful deep blue eyes, his face once more human and no longer the strange featureless muzzle he had revealed to them all. Nasch took her into his arms, dancing slowly with her as he continued to sing those sweet and loving words to her.

“What if we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine

Nothing could keep us apart

You’d be the one I was meant to find

It’s up to you, and it's up to me

No one can say what we get to be

So why don't we rewrite the stars?

Maybe the world could be ours

Tonight.” He spun her once before pulling her close again, leaning down to kiss her. Avina felt herself leaning forward, wanting to accept his kiss. She suddenly realized where she was and what was happening, and in an instant, she ducked, sliding out of his arms. The pop star walked away, desperately trying to catch her breath and stop her head from spinning.

"You think it's easy

You think I don't wanna run to you?” she sang, slowly looking over her shoulder. 

”But there are mountains

And there are doors that we can't walk through” Avina turned back to him fully.

”I know you're wondering why because we're able to be

Just you and me within these walls

But when we go outside, you're gonna wake up and see

That it was hopeless after all…” She turned to the large double door to Nasch’s room, her hands resting on the handles for a moment before shoving with all her might, pushing them open. Avina wasn’t entirely sure where she was going, but the huge staircase at the end of the hallway seemed to be a good bet. Where it lead, she didn’t know, but it was certainly better than just staying stuck in this room. She knew she couldn’t actually run… but even moving around a little helped alleviate some of her anxiety.

The words continued to pour from her heart as she walked out of the room, knowing Nasch would follow.

”No one can rewrite the stars

How can you say you'll be mine?

Everything keeps us apart

And I'm not the one you were meant to find” She began ascending the stairs, her skirt lifted so she wouldn’t trip. Avina looked up, noticing some of the other Barians standing in what must be the main throne room, her sadness switching to irritation. She stopped, whipping around to motion between herself and Nasch.

”It’s not up to you

It’s not up to me

When everyone tells us what we can be!” She spat, shooting a glare at Dumon and Girag. The two Barians looked back at her with open wariness and confusion, the Barian Knight looking back at his king. Avina huffed, turning away from them all and walking further into the throne room. This is probably where it would end. Nasch wouldn’t sacrifice his dignity to sing with her, especially in front of the other Barians. Her shoulders dropped, head lowering.

“How can we rewrite the stars?

Say that the world can be ours

Tonight?” she sang. When she continued… she was shocked to hear another voice join hers. Avina turned, seeing Nasch coming towards her, still singing! Their voices harmonized beautifully, and for a moment, she was able to forget where she was entirely.

”All I want is to fly with you

All I want is to fall with you

So just give me all of you!”

”It feels impossible…” She sang.

”It’s not impossible!” He replied, reaching out to her.

”Is it impossible?” She asked, her eyes turning hopeful.

”Say that it's possible!” Their voices joined again as he finally reached her, taking her hand and holding her close. Ryouga smiled, pulling her up the stairs leading to his throne.

”How do we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine?

Nothing can keep us apart

'Cause you are the one I was meant to find!” They reached the top, and he danced with her, spinning her and holding her close.

”It's up to you

And it's up to me

No one can say what we get to be

And why don't we rewrite the stars?

Changing the world to be ours!” Their voices rang out, uncaring of who heard or who saw, standing close to one another, relishing in one another’s warmth and comfort. Ryouga leaned down to kiss her, and Avina smiled, ready to kiss him in return. This time she was stopped by the feeling of a pendant lying on his chest. The Barian pendant. That’s right… This was Nasch. She stopped him, pushing him back slightly. He looked down at her in confusion, and Avina couldn’t help the bitter smile that made it’s way onto her face.

”You know I want you…

It’s not a secret I try to hide

But I can't have you…” Avina sang softly, her thumb running over the red gem in the center. The sensation startled Nasch so much, he found himself suddenly Barian-phosed, changed back into the towering stone creature he had chosen to be instead of the human man that could be with her.

”We’re bound to break and my hands… are tied.” She finished sadly, pulling away from him and walking back down the stairs, looking out one of the huge archways overlooking the Great Barian Sea.

————————————————————

Avina looked out at the deep red landscape below, her heart aching, trying desperately not to cry. God… for a moment, for just a moment, she felt connected to him again. She felt like she was singing with Ryouga and not the heartless Barian King. She began to wonder if… if maybe they really weren’t so different after all. God, she didn’t want to think about this madness anymore. She just wanted it to end! She wanted to go back home, with her human boyfriend. But the longer she was on this strange planet, the stronger this feeling of dread grew.

Something terrible was about to happen.

Nasch approached her from behind, reaching out to lay a hand on her shoulder. Before he could touch her, though, she finally spoke up.

“Nasch… I’d like to see my brother. Please. If your intention is still to turn me into a Barian, then I… I’d like to see my brother first.” Avina asked, not wanting to look at him. She knew her heart couldn’t take it. The Emperor was silent for a moment before answering.

“Yes… I’ll send for him and Merag.” His deep and alien voice came, turning to nod at Dumon. He then turned back to Avina, unsure of what to say. He stood beside her, looking out at the garish landscape of his world. There was silence for a few moments before Avina spoke, her voice soft and hesitant.

“Will it hurt?” She asked, not looking at him. The Emperor was quiet, considering how to answer her question.

“It… It shouldn’t. I will do everything in my power to ensure it doesn’t but… I’m afraid I don’t know for certain. All of us became Barians after our deaths on Earth so… I can’t say for sure. But I promise you, I will do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t hurt.” He answered.

“Do you have to? Do you have do turn me? Do you have to do any of this? Ryouga, please… we… we can still go back. We can go back to Earth, we can help Yuma fight and we can return to our normal lives! It… it doesn’t have to be this way.” Avina pleaded softly, tears rolling down her cheeks. Nasch felt tears prick his own eyes too, but he refused to let them fall.

“I must, Avina. I’ve been shown my past. There are hundreds of souls here counting on me. They all had their lives cut short on Earth due to choices I made, they are my responsibility. They were brought here for a second chance, and it’s my job to lead them and protect them from all threats. They… they deserve to be happy and safe. I failed them in my first life, but I won’t in this life. Believe me, I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but Barian World can’t exist in peace when Astral World does. Our worlds are polar opposites, and as such we are bound to fight. We have to destroy them before they destroy us.” Nasch explained, and Avina turned to look at him.

Even though his face was the featureless mask of a Barian, she could see that strong resolve and dedication that her Ryouga had shining in his eyes. God… it really was him. That realization only broke the singer even more. She desperately wanted to stay with him, to help him and see him succeed, but she also didn’t want innocent people to die. Avina lowered her head and closed her eyes, her tears falling steadily. There was no way to win this… not really. She couldn’t convince him to trust Yuma, and she couldn’t stand by his side and let him beat Yuma. She wanted to scream. This was impossible! A gentle breeze stirred her hair, making her open her eyes… and look down.

There… there was only one option.

“Avina!”

The magenta haired girl turned, seeing her brother enter with Ri- with Merag, his attire similarly changed like hers. She ran to him, hugging him tightly and trying not to burst into tears.

“Vance! Thank God, are you okay? Are you hurt at all?” She asked, pulling back and looking him over. He chuckled sadly, shaking his head.

“Not physically but…” he trailed off, the pain evident in his eyes. He was suffering the same dilemma she was. Avina could only assume that whatever conversation he’d had with Merag, he’d come to the same revelation she had… that Merag and Rio really were one and the same… but there was no way that he could stay by her side.

“Vance… Vance I… I’ve been thinking. We can’t let this happen. We can’t become Barians, otherwise we’ll just become part of the problem. We can’t get in Yuma’s way. I know he and Astral have a plan, but if we let them turn us into Barians, all we’re gonna do is throw a giant wrench in those plans.” She murmured, making sure her voice was low enough that none of the Barians present would hear them. “I’ve… already made my choice. I’m gonna fly…” Avina whispered, glancing back toward the large archway

The open archway that overlooked a fatal drop down to the beach.

“I’m… I’m really sorry. I don’t want you to- I-I don’t know what else to do… you don’t have to follow-“ Avina started, her tears falling once more, but Vance stopped her.

“Hey… you… you don’t have to be sorry. Truthfully, I had made the same decision.” He whispered in reply, the pain agonizingly evident in his eyes. Avina hiccuped, hugging him again, holding on tightly. God… god, she didn’t want this. Not for Vance, not for her. She didn’t want to do this to Nasch or Merag. She wanted this whole stupid nightmare to end!

But it wouldn’t… not yet.

Avina extracted herself from her brother, sniffling. “I need to… say goodbye.” She murmured, Vance nodding in agreement. The two siblings went toward their significant other, reluctance in their every step. The pop star looked up at the purple visage of her beloved, reaching up to caress his stone cheek.

“Okay… I-I’ve made my choice. But first… can you please turn back into a human? Just for a moment s-so I can… say goodbye?” She asked. Nasch didn’t hesitate at all, shifting back into the human body of Ryouga Kamishiro. She hugged him tightly, kissing him with all the passion and desperation she had felt for him ever since they’d first met. In her heart and her mind, she said goodbye to the future she had always imagined for them. She said goodbye to her band, she said goodbye to their wedding, their children, their blissfully-wedded future. None of that would happen now… So she savored this moment. The safety of his embrace, the warmth of his lips. After what felt like both an eternity and less than a second, she pulled back, her forehead resting against his and her hands resting on his chest, feeling the pulse of his heart.

“Ryouga… Nasch… I know now that you are one and the same. You are both a champion duelist with many friends who care deeply for you, and a great leader who will protect those who follow him. You’re a man of dedication and passion… and that is what I fell in love with.” She murmured to him, looking up into his brilliant blue eyes.

“I love you. I will always love you.” Avina declared.

Then, she shoved him back with all of her might, catching him by surprise and managing to push him off his feet and away from her. In an instant, she turned, making a mad dash for the open archway, spotting Vance having done the same to Merag before running the same direction as her. She reached out her hand to him, the two siblings grasping at one another and bolting for the edge. Avina faintly heard Nasch roaring for someone to stop them while Merag screamed after Vance, though the sound was muffled by the pounding of blood in her ears.

The edge grew closer

And closer

And closer

And then the ground was gone.

And she was falling.

And she was screaming.

The wind whipped around them, but even over that plus her own screams and the blood still rushing in her ears, Avina heard one single word being cried by two voices.

”NOOOOO!!!!”

It seemed like she fell forever. Had the ground vanished? Was there a bottomless pit that she hadn’t seen? She could faintly see the heads of the Emperors watching in horror as the two humans plummeted down.

“N-Nas—“

And then… darkness.

When Avina opened her eyes again, she was on the beach of Barian World. She looked over, seeing her brother standing beside her, his figure startlingly transparent, almost like Astral looked except not blue. She looked down at her own hands to find them equally transparent. An agonized cry drew her attention up, and not far ahead of them, she saw Merag pounding on the chest of a slightly burned body.

Vance’s body.

The sound of a pained grunt followed by sorrowful weeping attracted her attention next, and she spotted Nasch coming up out of the bloody red waters of the Great Barian Sea, a body in his arms with skin reddened from the acidic water.

Her body.

They hadn’t hit the ground, they’d fallen right into the Barian Sea, thankfully dying on impact so they didn’t have to suffer the agony of the acid. But… but now they had to watch as the two people who they loved more than anything in the world mourned over their broken bodies.

Avina wept openly, and she heard Vance doing the same. She reached over, taking his hand, the two siblings weeping at the tragic scene.

”Fellow Lights… I am so sorry it came to this.” a strange, feminine voice said. Avina gasped and turned, spotting a group of five women approaching them. ”There is much that needs to be explained, and we will do so. Please… come with us. Things will make sense soon.” a lady with blond hair dressed in blue said, offering her hand to them. The siblings hesitated, looking at one another and glancing back at their Barian lovers.

”I understand your desire to stay… and I promise you, you won’t be parted from them for long… but right now, there is nothing you can do. Truths have been hidden from you, and you deserve to know about your past, as well as theirs. Let us help you… Together, we can free them from this agony, but in order to do so, you must understand the whole story.” The girl in a flowing purple skirt said, her lavender eyes imploring. Avina let out a shuddering sigh, looking back one more time at the sorrowful scene behind her.

“Nasch… I’m so sorry. I love you.”

Then, she and Vance turned, following the group of women into a glowing white light.

[takeiteasypeasybaby]

Save Me: Chapter 8 - Underworld

~Hey guys! This is Chapter 8 in ‘Save Me’ ❤️ Negan takes Molly on a tour of the Sanctuary where she meets a familiar face and they have their first real conversation... I hope you enjoy this chapter and chapter 9 will be out on Sunday 😊~

The Sanctuary. A curious place, with even more curious people. Molly felt trapped. There was no way out, only through and she would have to come face to face with the Devil to make that happen.

It wasn't until the following morning when Negan came.

I stood against the wall in the darkness and waited.

Suddenly the door flung open and Negan stepped inside, first looking at the dead man, then at me, smiling.

I had chosen life. I had chosen the Saviours, for now.

I figured that being on the inside of our enemies compound was an advantage and maybe I could find a way to work against them under the radar.

Negan glanced at me, half in admiration, half in scepticism.

I guess that even though he thought I was a badass, he needed more reassurance.

Asshole.

I looked at the dagger in the rapist's head and sighed before sarcastically saying 'you win'.

He chuckled, 'No, you win' he said while pulling out the dagger of the dead man.

'Get some people in here, clean this up' he said sternly to his men outside.

I looked at the dagger longingly, if he let me keep it I could actually defend myself.

He noticed this, as he notices everything.

'Why, you didn't actually think I was gonna let you keep this did you?', he whispered as he fastened the dagger into his belt and leaned closer.

As much as I wanted to hate him, there was something about his aura, his closeness, his scent.

It was intoxicating, cedar wood and musk.

I felt myself actually having to snap myself out of it every time he came closer.

He wouldn't have this effect on me, I wouldn't let him.

'You still got a way to go before I believe you're fully on board here, baby steps'.

He smiled assuringly, 'it is absolutely not personal, if the situation was reversed I'm sure you wouldn't believe me either. Still, the way you saved yourself, the way you surrendered to me just now that is a damn good start. But, we gotta work on some things Molly because I think you'd actually like it here'.

He reached out his hand, this time more hesitantly than the last.

Hoping that I wouldn't punch him again.

I wouldn't this time.

'I wanna show you around, introduce you to the sanctuary, show you what could be yours someday' he said smiling.

Of course he was talking about the compound but there was something in his eyes that changed when he talked about what could be mine.

It was as though the hard stony dark brown of his eyes had softened to a caramel light brown.

It wasn't as though he was trying to manipulate me into joining him but he was deadly serious and thought that I could be valuable.

This time I took a second to process, but reached out and slipped my hand into his.

It was surprisingly warm and gentle yet also calloused in areas.

It was a strange feeling holding his hand as we walked out of the cell and along these long a winding corridors.

It wasn't as though I was being led or guided but as though we were equals who had struck a deal, perfectly lined up side by side.

Only a dozen Saviours had actually seen me before yet whenever we passed someone, it felt like they instantly knew of me.

People must have been talking about the girl who came into their home and killed some of them.

That same girl who was now walking hand in hand with the leader of the Saviours.

God what would Rick think if he saw me right now? What would Tara think if she saw me?

I couldn't think about that right now, I had to play their games to survive.

The weirdest thing was that they all knelt whenever he walked past them, like he was their messiah.

I got it, he had 'saved' them. But I had no idea how literal it would be.

Although, it didn't look like they did it willingly, more out of fear than anything.

Negan glanced at me while we walked as if entranced by my confusion.

'You'll see' he said softly, that was it, he didn't explain anything other than I would understand eventually.

Just before we reached two double doors, which sounded like behind them held some kind of social hub as the noise was deafening with conversation, Negan let go of my hand softly, almost reluctantly and asked if I would wait there until he took his call.

I nodded, 'sure' then he went round the corner and into another room while one of his guys watched me, all the while pointing a gun at my head.

I smiled sweetly at him, he was a large man and by his response to my smile he lowered his gun slightly.

He would be easy to manipulate, I thought.

Just as he started to smile back, and thinking we were flirting, Negan came back.

He took one look at the man and said sternly 'fat joey, out'.

Hmm, Fat Joey would become my new best friend, I thought to myself.

Negan looked pissed and slightly jealous.

It wasn't until he instructed all of his men away that I knew shit was about to go down.

He sauntered over to me slowly, 'a little birdie told me that Rick and the rest of your people are up to no good and well that needs to change and you're gonna help me change it'.

He scowled as I looked down. Shit. What the hell had happened?

Negan's face softened as he said 'don't worry, we will find ourselves a win win'.

I looked up immediately at him, 'we both know that that's a lie, there is no outcome where we both win, it's just you, you arrogant bastard'.

His grip on his bat tightened, my words had cut him but this only made him want to show me what I was missing even more.

He exhaled before smirking slightly, 'c'mon, this way' he said strolling in front of me and through the doors.

He held open the door for me before whispering, 'check this out'.

We were on a balcony, looking out onto a sea of people in a large room, a canteen, tables and chairs everywhere, a market.

He held onto the rails as I stood beside him.

'The Saviours have gone out into the world, fought the dead and come back with some really good shit. Some of that shit can be yours, if you work hard and play by the rules' he bellowed, each one of them looking up captivated by him, all kneeling.

He lingered on 'play by the rules', speaking slowly and deliberately as he looked at me.

That was what he meant, he wants me to be a Saviour. Like hell I would.

He paused, now looking back at the crowd, 'today, everybody gets fresh vegetables at dinner, no points needed'.

They all clapped and cheered as Negan turned around, now facing me.

'You see that, Respect. Cool huh?' he smiled, proud of himself.

I shook my head as I felt sorry for them.

'Fear, that's all it is' I replied looking straight at him, waiting for his reaction.

Every time that I thought he would break and kill me, he never did.

It was like I was a bitter pill to swallow, one which hurt him with my honesty but it made him better so he needed me.

It made me realise that he had so many people around him who probably said exactly what he wanted to hear out of fear that he would kill them, that nobody told them what they really thought.

I guessed I would be the first.

Every room we entered was deliberate, like he planned the whole thing and mapped it out in his head, leaving two rooms for last.

They were the two closest to him.

It was easy to get lost in the Sanctuary (a name which lost its irony over time), each corridor was long and they all looked the same.

But no one could mistake this room.

It was luxury itself and it was like walking back in time when we stepped inside.

The furnishings were all art deco, wooden everything, chaise longues, bar carts and music, and of course his most prized decorations - his wives.

Six women sat on different sofas, dressed in black mini dresses, hair done perfectly.

All looked immaculate, untouched by the outside world.

Was this a cage or an actual sanctuary that kept them safe?

'Ladies, don't get jealous and play nice' he said chuckling to himself, 'don't feel threatened, although she is hot as hell' he said gesturing towards me.

Jesus Christ, what the hell was this.

I looked around the room, trying not to look to uncomfortable.

'You wanna drink darlin?' he said while gliding over to the bar cart.

I had to get this over with, so I tried to be polite since he hadn't tried to kill me.

'Sure...thanks' I said gratefully.

He looked astonished 'wow! was that an official thank you?' he chuckled.

A smirk rose across my face before saying 'don't get ahead of yourself' which made him smile even more while fixing me a scotch.

All the women seemed to stare at me as though their eyes had burned into the back of my skull, except one.

A brown haired woman was turned away looking out the window until she turned around when Dwight entered saying 'where do you want this boss?' while holding a barrel of whisky.

Holy Shit! It was Sherry!

I hadn't seen her for years.

We had gone to college together, we both went to Dartmouth before it all happened.

Sherry first looked at Dwight in both fear and longing before glancing at me.

Her eyes widened as we made eye contact, 'Sherry?' I mouthed so that Negan wouldn't hear.

She came over, pretending to introduce herself.

Negan watched but seemed distracted with a blonde haired girl.

He said something about redirect duty and was clearly upset with her for some reason.

I wanted to hug Sherry but if Negan knew about our friendship, he would certainly use it to his advantage.

So, we sat on the sofa furthest away from everyone and she whispered, 'how the hell are you here right now?!'.

'I'm part of a group now, I tried to kill Negan' I replied quietly.

She was shocked and had fear blazing through her eyes, 'you serious?! you can't be here'.

'What about you? why are you dressed like that and with these other women?' I asked with concern.

She looked down before saying 'I'm his wife, we all are'.

I looked sceptical but also horrified, 'I'm sorry, all of you?!' I asked.

She sighed, 'look, I did what I had to do, just like I'm sure you did. But I had no one, no group to protect me so when the Saviours found me I was relieved'.

I looked at her with sorrow in my eyes before asking 'how do you know dw-', Negan interrupted before I could say anymore.

'Molly, come with me. I wanna talk' he said sternly.

I reluctantly got up and walked with him to another room, looking back at Sherry we smiled weakly at each other, thankful that we were both still alive.

He walked in front as he guided me down the hallway to another door, this was the grandest one.

I guessed it was his room.

He smiled softly at me as I glanced around.

Everything was dark, the four poster bed, the drapes, the lounge area, bookshelves, trinkets, everything.

It was like I'd entered the dragon's lair.

After looking around for long enough I finally spoke, 'are all of those women actually your uh-'.

'Wives? Yeah. Always wanted to screw a whole bunch of different women. I mean why settle for just one? Why follow the same old rules? Why not make life better?' he replied while going to sit down on his sofa.

'Speaking of, sit' he said nonchalantly.

I didn't like that segway...did he want me to be another wife?

Hell no.

We sat down, he looked at me, leaning towards me across the coffee table.

'Let's get started' he said clapping his hands together.

I looked at him confusedly, 'started on what?' I asked.

'I wanna get to know you a little better, Molly'.

I frowned and asked 'why?' as I stared back at him.

He smiled, 'work it out, you're smart. In fact, i'm gonna tell you just how smart you are, in case you don't already know'.

He paused.

'You see, you're a badass. You go on a mission, you find me, you kill four of my men and you're smart enough to know that I'm not gonna let this slide' he said seriously.

Finally, this was it, he was gonna kill me.

He continued, 'punishment, you can't do anything without that...so you're gonna answer some questions I have'.

I hesitated while there was a knock at the door.

Negan sighed at us being interrupted before saying 'come in'.

It was Fat Joey.

'I don't mean to i-interrupt sir but you left Lucille down by the cell'.

He looked at the baseball bat and said, 'seriously? I never do that. I guess a gal coming in and gunning down four of my men is a little bit of a distraction'.

Lucille? He named his bat, who the hell is this guy?!

Negan took the bat from Fat Joey before propping it down beside him and looking at me, only me.

He didn't even break eye contact when he told Fat Joey to 'get the hell out'.

He was speechless, you could hear a pin drop in that room he was so quiet.

It's funny how the guy that talks more than anyone, was rendered silent by me and I didn't even have to say a word.

'You are something else, you know that?' he uttered while leaning on the coffee table.

He bit his lip, not aggressively, more like he was holding himself back from me.

His eyes were darker somehow this time.

I gave him an emotionless expression, not wanting to show the effect he had on me right now.

He snapped himself out of my effect on him and changed the topic.

'What did you do before?', he said leaning back into the sofa, crossed legged.

Why did he care? Was this some kind of backward interview? An enrolment? Any minute now he would say congratulations you passed! You're now a Saviour!

I kept composed and looked at him thoughtfully, truthfully so he would believe me.

A question about your past inevitably leads to your family, and I would always keep Tara safe.

I didn't even know him then, but I answered anyway.

'I was a lawyer' I said confidently.

He was surprised, as shown by his eyebrows being raised but not so much as to be offensive, more like wow I knew you were smart but now you're valuable and even more so than before.

That's not what I wanted.

If I couldn't leave, I would rather die.

'Whew, impressive. Smart and beautiful, a lethal combination' he said smiling.

He thought he was being so charming.

He got Denise killed.

As much as I tried to hide it, he could see right through me. I didn't smile, I wasn't flattered, I was pissed.

'What?, got something to say darlin?' he said like I had hurt his feelings.

I shook my head in disbelief and chuckled sarcastically.

'Why haven't you killed me yet? Or Rick. I mean you already started with one, why not wipe us all out. You say you're keeping me alive because I'm useful? Well the girl you killed was a damn doctor so if that's not fucking useful I don't know what is!', I said scowling at him.

He was hanging onto every single word.

He sighed, 'Your buddy Rick is already getting me some great stuff. You, on the other hand, well...we shall see. It's more productive to break you...more fun too'.

I scowled at him, he was heartless.

'You thinking that's stupid?' he asked genuinely intrigued.

'I'm thinking we're different' I retorted.

He leant forward again as if us being different was a challenge to him.

'Hmm. What do you think I should do? You know I can't let you go. So, do I kill you, iron your pretty face, chop off a limb, tell me. What do you think?' he asked smirking.

I'd had enough of his bullshit, he wasn't gonna do shit to me and we both knew it.

'I think you should jump out that window to save me the trouble of killing you, because you know what? I think you're not saying what you're gonna do to me, because you're not gonna do anything. If you knew me, if you knew any of us, you would kill us. But you can't' I argued.

He exhaled, impressed by my speech and then said the first human thing he'd ever said.

'Maybe you're right, maybe I can't. Listen, I am sorry for that. Your friend. People are a resource and hell a doctor is the most valuable kind of person out there these days. But Dwight got his punishment, so its square' he said almost sorrowfully.

He sighed, he looked sorry for my loss but I wasn't buying it.

'Are you kidding me?! What did he get, a slapped wrist? No dessert after dinner? Dwight may have swung the sword, but you gave the sentence. And if you didn't, then you have an even bigger problem on your hands' I yelled.

He scowled, he was angry.

I had hoped this would push him over the edge, but all he did was calmly call for one of his guys to take me back to my cell.

He said nothing else to me, not a single word.

Had I finally got through to him?

Rosita's POV//

It had been just over a day since I had kidnapped Dwight.

Everyone at Alexandria were in uproar over what to do with him and he had killed one of our own.

With Tara still away on the supply run, no one felt like they had the authority to decide his fate, except Rick of course.

But even so, we had to think about what she would want.

But before any of that, it was time for the confrontation.

Rick had already made Dwight call one of the Saviours and let them know he was on a 'supply run' and wouldn't be back for a while.

Rick went into the room first and shut the door behind him while everyone else waited outside with anticipation, Daryl and I more than most.

Rick raised his gun to Dwight's head, 'why shouldn't we kill you?'.

Dwight was silent for a minute before saying, 'because we're the same, I want what you want'.

Rick was pissed and the others walked into the room now.

Dwight was now surrounded.

Daryl, Rick, Michonne and I circled him like sharks.

'How are you like us?' Michonne asked calmly, trying to calm down Rick.

'Because I want him stopped. I want Negan dead' Dwight said sadly.

Rick looked sceptical, so did Michonne.

'So why don't you kill him?' Rick added.

Dwight sighed before saying 'it can't just be me, they're all Negan'.

'Why the hell should we trust you?' I asked sternly.

'Negan took everything from me...my wife, so trust me, I want vengeance' Dwight replied.

'What happened to Molly?' I asked worriedly, annoyed at his very presence.

All eyes seemed to pin on Dwight in anticipation of his answer.

'She can handle herself, trust me' Dwight said exhaustedly while looking down.

'She's alive?!' Michonne said quietly and surprised.

A smile growing across everyone's faces before returning to Dwight.

I grew angrier and angrier at Dwight before stating,

'That girl you killed, she had a name, her name was Denise and she was a doctor. She helped people' I whispered, leaning down at him to make sure the words hit hard.

Dwight looked down saying 'I wasn't aiming for her'.

At this Daryl grabbed Dwight and pinned him to the wall, holding a knife to his eye.

'Do it!' I said to Daryl with no emotion.

'Go ahead. I'm sorry, I am and I know you want to' Dwight said, like he was ready for death.

'We can't trust him' Michonne told Rick.

'He owned me, but not anymore. What I did, I was doing for someone else' Dwight pleaded to Daryl.

Daryl deliberated for a few minutes before putting away his knife.

I sighed when I knew they'd keep him alive.

'I can help you, Negan will come but I can buy you time to get ready. Take down some trees in his path'.

Everyone talked for hours before deciding to release Dwight and let him go free, back to the Sanctuary.

None of us trusted him, but at least we had the security of knowing that if anything went wrong, we would kill him first.

[lemonsandstrawberries]

Double Trouble Reunion, part 12 / **

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), Avengers,

universe: Double Trouble universe (Steve and Tony, T2 and S2)

summary: After the shared night, Tonys have trouble sleeping. But all will be rewarded in the end.

length: 5 192

warnings: nothing explicit happens in this chapter, but there is some intense belly button play that ends in orgasm and sex is implied but not described (includes bottom!Tony, bottom!Steve near the end)

a/n: I feel I kinda stalled on this chapter... also I am introducing here something I was thinking about for a loooong time (basically since I started writing tickle fics) and I hope you will all like it! otherwise, I might just dig a hole and hide there, hah! hope you will like this update and as usual, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and needed! 

——————–

Double Trouble Reunion, part 12 / **

Tony was used to functioning in a loud environment. The sound of pneumatic hammers breaking every concrete wall, smooth sound of a laser cutting through every surface, loud raving up of an engine, all coupled with heavy and energizing notes of rock music blasting in the background. It was his everyday bread, something he lived in and was an inherent part of his everyday routine, just like a cup of coffee every morning. While most people would find it unpleasant, it was one of the sweetest music for Tony. Not being bothered by loud, ongoing sounds was a useful skill and definitely helped Tony to sleep through the nights when Steve, with circled eyes and head lolling forward, stumbled into their shared bed after particularly exhausting days and snored for twelve hours, resembling a chainsaw. Tony could sleep happily through it, cuddled to his soldier and wake up refreshed.

Just not when it was two super soldiers snoring.

Just no.

Tony shut his eyes tight when it began all over again. Sometimes it was one Steve snoring, and the other started, just when the first ended. Sometimes it was them both, taking turns, as if in some very bad band. The worst was when they got gradually louder, up to a point when it all died down, just to start minutes later.

Tony didn't get a lot of sleep, waking up every hour or so, trying to shut his Steve's mouth from time to time, but it just fell open almost right away.

Some part of him felt proud that he and T2 managed to tire their boyfriends out the day before during the joined tickle session, but the other part of him told him to get a gag and use it on both blonds because he needed his damn sleep.

And T2 seemed to sleep through all of this. Lucky bastard. Or at least it was what Tony thought.

Tony groaned, hearing another snore rumble in Steve's chest before it left his mouth. He just wanted to sleep and use his boyfriend's peck as a pillow was that too much to ask? In a quick move, he lifted himself up and looked angrily at his boyfriend, his irritation level rising when he noticed that it was getting bright outside and he painfully felt the consequences of being awake for almost the whole night. And snore. A loud one. Tony put his hand under Steve's chin and shut his mouth. As usual, it worked for about ten seconds before his mouth opened and the snoring started anew. What was worse, S2 started to snore too, almost as if it was a competition between both blonds who could snore louder. Usually, Tony found the competitiveness between two Captain Americas amusing, but right now, there was nothing endearing about this situation.

"Doesn't work, huh?"

Tony winced in surprise, before he looked to the middle of the bed, eyebrows creasing. T2, acting as a small spoon to S2, was wide awake, his eyes red and tired and he kept smiling weakly at his counterpart. Tony felt tired himself, but he liked to think that he looked less chewed out than T2 did.

"They woke you up too?" Tony asked in a whisper, wriggling back into the covers. Feeling him back, Steve immediately wrapped arms again around his torso and buried his face into Tony's shoulder. If he started drooling on him, Tony would have no problems with pushing Steve out of the bed. And it still was the nice option.

"Ugh, I don't think I slept at all," T2 admitted in a pained voice, closing his eyes tight, "you make a lot of ruckus too you know."

"Uh, what?" Tony asked back. He remembered seeing T2 perfectly still the whole night, not flinching even once or giving any other signs of being awake.

"Each time you moved to quiet one of them, you made me awake all over again. Also, you snore too," T2 said, opening his eyes and jutting his lower lip forward.

"You snore too!" Tony argued back, clearly in self-defense.

"Can't be as bad as this one," T2 said through a yawn, pointing with his head to his Steve. "Or that one," he continued, meaning the other Steve.

Tony mellowed down. He and T2 were on the same page here. And somewhere deep, deep down he did feel a bit bad for keeping the other him awake.

"You know, I would still take his snoring in favor of the other sound that comes from him during the night," Tony said, trying to lighten up the mood.

"What do you mean?" T2 asked, his face showing some interest.

"I mean that when the evening earlier he binges on ice cream or pizza with double cheese," Tony explained, trying to keep his smile to minimum and voice neutral, while he watched the spreading glee on T2's face. "No amount of scented candles can help. I think I would be even scared to light up a match near him."

"Noooo," T2 whined, voice cracking with laughter.

"Yes," Tony nodded, finally smiling, "I swear, one night our covers didn't even touch the bed, they just kept floating in the air."

T2 buried his face in the pillow, shoulders shaking with laughter. Tony gave him a minute, just enjoying seeing the other him giggling away. It was a cute sight.

"I am glad mine has a nuts allergy, it just makes his tongue bigger," T2 said after his giggling fit was over. Then his smiling face changed into a more mischievous one. "Actually, sometimes we use it to our advantage."

"Now you are just bragging," Tony narrowed his eyes, and T2 laughed happily. He stopped laughing, when more rumbling snores filled the room, this time coming from both soldiers.

"I guess we are getting up?" T2 asked while Tony was busy rolling his eyes at the soldier glued to his back.

"Yeah. Let them go deaf alone," Tony said, gently moving Steve's hands and wriggling himself out from the covers and making a wobbly way out of the bed, trying not to step on anyone.

"You don't mean that," T2 cooed, untangling himself from his Steve's hold. He yelped softly when a hand grabbed his ankle and T1 pulled on it, dragging him all the way down the mattress until he reached the end of the bed and a good portion of his legs was out.

"I kinda mean that," Tony said, lack of sleep making him cranky. He lifted the covers up and saw T2's smiling and amused face. T2 liked to be manhandled a bit too much, but Tony could understand that just as much enjoying manhandling the other him.

"Let's go, before I lose my hearing," Tony urged when snoring became louder, and he pulled T2 up and to himself.

"Breakfast?" T2 asked hopefully, grabbing some basic clothes for him and T1 on their way out.

"Coffee. Lots," Tony groaned, tilting his head back. "And I have no strength to cook. We will do what we always do on days like this."

T2 giggled, handing T1 a tank top and sweat pants. "Order food and push it as our cooking?"

"Shhh!" T1 quieted the other him, shooting a quick glance at their, hopefully, sleeping boyfriends. There was a limited number of times they could impress Steves with unburnt omelets and poached eggs on toast. Seemed that their secret would remain safe, judging on the ongoing snoring.

"Coffee?" T2 reminded.

"Coffee," Tony nodded and they both walked out of the bedroom.

***

Three refills of coffee and one waffle delivery later, Steves walked into the kitchen, looking fresh and chipper.

"Morning, honey," Steve said warmly, kissing Tony's cheek for hello. Tony grumbled his greeting back, still sucked to a coffee cup, letting caffeine fuel him.

"Morning," S2 smiled at his Tony and went to him first, T2 already putting his cheek out for his kiss and smiling back, because he was the yin to Tony's yang. "Breakfast smells great," he said, smelling warm waffles and butter and syrup.

"That's not breakfast, that's me," T2 flirted with a charming smile.

"Um, Tony…" Steve said insecurely, noticing the almost empty bag of coffee on the counter and the overpowering aroma of coffee in the air. "I think you should slow down."

Tony growled from behind his cup. He would need a nap later for sure. Seeing T2 and S2 cooing to each other was not helping him either.

"He is cranky because he didn't get a lot of sleep today!" T2 explained before Steve could ask what already ruined his boyfriend mood. "You two had a snoring contest."

"Oh," Steve grimaced, watching Tony's grumpy face. "Why- why didn't you go to the second bedroom?" he asked. Seemed logical to him.

Tony put the empty cup away from his lips. He looked Steve straight in the eyes, huffing a bit, looking agitated. "Because you are warm."

Steve waited for something to follow. Nothing did, as if that explanation should be enough.

"Oh," Steve said because no better thing came to his mind. Well, that was almost flattering. Taking advantage of the silent moment, S2 slipped in between them and gave Tony a good morning kiss, quickly moving away. Of course, on the lips, as Tony turned his head to match S2's. How come Tony seemed more angry at him than S2? That reminded him that he better hurry up and give a good morning kiss to the other Tony or he would just end with both Tonys being angry, but if he would walk away now, it would just make his Tony angrier and there was no good solution here.  

"I - I promise to not snore ever again?" Steve said, clearly not believing his own words. He just panicked and said the first thing he thought that could amend the situation.

Tony eyed him for a bit longer, before his chest jumped with a huff of laughter, his shoulders relaxing and not so tight anymore. He put the cup away and used his free hand to put at the back of Steve's neck, urging him closer and stood on his toes, nuzzling into Steve's face, his nose tracing soldier's cheek in a tender move before he rubbed their noses together for few seconds. When they drew apart, Tony's gaze was soft and he looked less tense.

"Let's eat while it is still warm," Tony decided, walking around his Steve and joining the other couple at the table.

Well, that went surprisingly easy. Usually Tony liked to make things more dramatic. Maybe he had just the right amount of coffee to mellow down. Steve turned around and joined the breakfast chaos, and he caught Tony's love filled gaze on him, just as if Steve was something very precious. And Steve smiled, taking Tony's hand in his and thinking the exact same thing about Tony.

***

Hours later, Tony was stumbling down the corridor, his head dropping down. The lack of sleep was catching up on him, and he desperately needed a nap. A short, power nap. He had a full right to a nap after the poor quality sleep he got the last night.

"Ack!" Tony yelped in protest when he was tackled against the wall before he could reach the bedroom. He opened his mouth to voice his protest out, but a warm palm pressed to his mouth, silencing him.

"Shhh. Don't say a word."

A very nice shudder ran through Tony's body at the low, husked out voice whispering in his ear. He felt a muscled body pressing into his back, towering over him and hips grinding into his ass. Seemed that Steve came to make up for the awful night he had caused. It wasn't needed, but very welcomed, and Tony would happily let himself be carried to the bedroom for some private time.

"Hands on the wall."

Oh. That was new. Suddenly all the sleep was gone. Steve wanted to make out here? Here in the middle of the corridor, where T2 or S2 could stumble on them any second?

"Do it."

It was not a request. Feeling hot all over, Tony pressed both palms to the cool wall, keeping his arms outstretched. It was almost as if he was a criminal and Steve was a policeman, ready to pat him down. Well, that was a nice scenario for a role play.

"Don't move."

Tony nodded. Steve's hand was still firmly pressed to his mouth and it was getting a whole lot exciting.

"And stay quiet. You don't want anyone walking on us, do you?"

A whole, whole lot exciting. When moist, plumps lips touched his ear and moved all the way down, grazing his neck in a delicate pattern, Tony moved his head back, a small whimper escaping him, muffled by the hand. Little, playful nip on his collarbone and Tony rolled his bitten arm.

"Shh."

One big hand cupped his jawline, palm sliding down, brushing his neck firmly and making his breath short for a while. Tony didn't mind a little rough play. Down the middle of his chest, the touch becoming lighter at the scar the arc reactor left and Tony was really grateful for that. He didn't need a panic attack setting in. Not when it was getting so good, and Steve caressed his stomach, pressing on the skin under his hand and moved all the way down, stopping at the edge of his tank top and sliding easily into his pants. It was common knowledge that on his free days, Tony liked to go commando and Steve didn't pause for a second feeling bare, heated skin, already expecting that. Fingers pressing into his lower belly, curling into the soft skin and Tony snapped his head up, some involuntary giggle escaping, barely hearable as Steve kept his hand stubbornly pressed to his lips.

"Oh, this is a sensitive spot, right?"

More whispering and four fingers kept gently digging into the soft spot, slowly and teasingly. Tony giggled more, shaking his head and curling in himself slightly, his hands sliding a bit down on the wall. Steve pressed his hips firmer into Tony's, helping him to stay upright.

"I would use both hands, but you will just disobey me and make a lot of noise, wouldn't you? You can be a very loud one."

As to confirm his words, Steve dug his fingertips into the soft lower belly and squeezed the skin repeatedly. Tony jumped, more muffled laughter and breath coming out in short, hot waves. His arms startled to tremble with effort of keeping them in place. A wet kiss on his neck, probably a reward for not moving during the short tickle attack.

"Fortunately, one hand is enough for what I have planned."

The hand splayed on his lower belly, covering more skin, and Tony's breath stopped in anticipation. South or north. Both options sounded equally lovely. Both made him feel incredibly nervous and giddy.

When Steve decided on his direction, Tony rolled his stomach, following the movement.

North.

Oh boy.

The hand stopped under his shirt, pressing into the middle of his stomach, his belly button directly under the middle of the palm. Tony couldn't help, and whimpered, feeling that he was in trouble.

"You will enjoy this."

The touch lightened and a finger pressed directly on his outie, already sending an electric like feeling through his whole body. A gentle pressure, pushing on the ticklish spot and Tony started to giggle frantically, his whole body shivering and becoming heated.

"Or more of, I will enjoy this."

Of course.

Everything got blocked out. Tony felt only the light tickle on his outie, his mind reading the feeling as devastating and making his whole body numb, as he continued to laugh, the sound coming out as choked and snorted, obscured by the hand on his lips. He didn't care how ridiculous he sounded, not when the finger on his outie was driving him insane, lightly touching and rubbing, never leaving or stopping, despite the constant hips rocking Tony did, almost as if dancing. Then two fingers, rubbing the small nub in circular motions. It tickled so, so intense, but then another feeling joined. Hot and dizzying, bunching up all his nerves.

"Wow," Steve whispered, always in awe how proper stimulation on Tony's outie could both tickle and make him aroused. "You are amazing, you know that?" Steve whispered with love, continuing the touch, feeling the breathed out giggles and moans on his palm, and almost making Tony's knees buckle.

When Steve pinched delicately the small nub between his fingers, Tony almost exploded with laughter. When he used his fingers to rub the very sides of the outie, Tony continued to shrill in laughter and tried to suck his belly in. All this was accompanied by the hot, tingling feeling spreading all over his limbs. His hands were slowly giving up and he didn't have enough of will power to keep them on the wall anymore, but he didn't want to stop their play either, so he came up with a different plan. Using the wall as leverage, Tony pushed himself away, bumping his back into Steve's chest and falling with all his weight on him, he raised his arms up and threw over Steve's neck, fingers intertwining on the nape to help himself stay in place. Steve, a little shocked at first, felt a loving, serene feeling taking over him, with Tony being so open and presenting himself to him. That truly was something special. He won't waste this opportunity.

Steve rolled Tony's shirt up to his chest and used his knuckles to brush over the quivering stomach, up from the ribs, ending on the pant line. Five fingers drawing horizontal lines over the middle, often catching on the belly button, brushing it over and over again. Tony's arms and legs felt limp, but his torso was straight and skin tight as a drum, belly forming a gentle slope, Steve's fingers were following. Somehow during his wiggling, Steve's hand slid down from his lips and stopped only on the lower lip and Tony could laugh properly. It was short-lived when strong fingers poked softly into his mouth,  two fingers placed on his lower teeth. Tony bit gently on them, understanding that he was still supposed to be quiet, but it was becoming so good and so hot, his breath coming out in short waves and giggles mixing with delighted, short moans.

A thumb pressed strongly to his belly button and pushed, rubbing on the little numb, and Tony's eyes rolled to the back in delight, all his nerves lighting up with a shimmering, ticklish feeling. Huh. That was new for both of them and Steve was pleasantly surprised with the reaction before he got back to more traditional techniques. Some more circles rubbed directly on his outie, and Tony felt the hot feeling growing in him and stirring his insides, a delightful ringing in his ears becoming louder and louder until he snapped his hips forward and his vision darkened at the edges as he moaned and laughed and came.

The hold around Steve's neck loosened. Steve moved both of his hands to held Tony under his arms, feeling that his boyfriend was slipping to the floor, exhausted and limbless.

"Hey, easy now."

Steve was gentle and spoke in a soothing voice, turning Tony around, their chests pressing together. The sight almost knocked the breath out of him. Tony was flushed and panting, his eyes sparkling with post orgasm bliss. What made Steve's blood flow faster was that when Tony looked up at him, eyes bright and mouth slightly opened, he saw that Tony wasn't as exhausted as Steve assumed he was. No, he clearly wanted more. Tony surged up, pressing their lips together in a needy, deep kiss, climbing on Steve and entangling fingers into blonde hair, one leg already hooked around soldier’s hip, his whole body pushing into him, silently asking to be lifted up and carried somewhere more private. Or even here, Tony didn't care, as long as he would get more of that.

"Ummm… What's going on here?"

Steve broke the kiss, hearing the other him behind his back. He looked to the back, admittedly looking startled for a second. Tony looked too, thinking that good that S2 showed up because he wanted to be in a threesome with both Steves for a long, long time and maybe it was the right moment to propose that when-

It was his Steve. The one with the stunned, shocked expression on his face, standing in the corridor.

Tony blinked and took a proper look at the Steve he basically had climbed over and got lost in his arms. It was S2.

Oh, that was a bit awkward. Just a bit.

Before anything else could happen, S2 grinned that smug, practiced smile, scooping Tony up and walking to Steve.

"Here, I warmed him up for you," he winked and handed Tony over to other him and Tony clung to his soldier.

"The heck-" Steve protested, but still held Tony close, his voice lost when he saw how flushed and bothered Tony looked.

"One out of three," S2 said proudly and walked away, smug and pleased with himself.

"Where are you -" Steve didn't finish, noticing S2 walking into the bedroom they all shared. And he was pretty sure that earlier today, T2 had collapsed in bed, claiming that he was too tired and needed to get some sleep.

"Steve."

Steve looked back at Tony. At his heated cheeks, half-lidded, glazed eyes. He was clinging to him and Steve felt the short breath and rapidly beating heart. Tony pushed on Steve, urging him and Steve was a weak, weak man.

Just like S2 earlier, he scooped Tony up and carried away into the bedroom not occupied by the other couple, and Tony laughed in delight, already kissing and gently biting on Steve's ear to get him faster in the mood.

Some things could wait.

***

"How did you do that?"

S2 shut his sketchbook close. He turned his head to the side, eyes meeting with S1, who was leaning over the couch back, looking down at him.

"Did what?" S2 asked, tapping fingers on the hardcover. He was getting in the zone when he had to be interrupted.

"You know what," Steve replied, sounding somehow irritated. And not only because he clearly saw the other him sketching not his nr 1 boyfriend.

There it was. That sly, self-pleased grin showing on S2's face. Steve already felt tense.

"You mean how I made your boyfriend climb you like a tree?"

Steve could reply something snarky. Something very ironic and full of sarcasm, just to shut the other him up. He was fully capable of that. Just, curiosity won over.

"Yeah," Steve admitted with a sigh, dropping his fight stance, "that."

After S1's confession, S2 changed his tone too, his smile dimming into a nicer, gentler one. Even more genuine than his practiced smirk. Steve liked that smile more.

"Well, before I answer that, let me ask you a very fair question," S2 said, and S1 nodded, giving him permission, "have you ever slept with a woman?"

"WHAT?!" Steve burst out, feeling his cheeks burning. S2 was looking back at him, no snark in his posture or voice, just waiting for the answer. And Steve felt very hot under his collar. Okay, he felt a lot closer to S2 since he got here, but such information was not something he was ready to share yet. Some things were supposed to stay only between him and his Tony.

"What it has to do with anything, anyway?" Steve asked, nervously tugging on the neckline of his shirt.

S2 looked at him with pity. S1 didn't intend to correct him. Let the asshole think what he wanted. Oh, he was calling S2 an asshole again. That didn't happen for a while.

"I am gonna leave you with this," S2 said, standing up and tucking his sketchbook under his arm, "think what women have and what Tony has."

Steve's forehead creased in confusion. That didn't make any sense. He watched S2 walk away in the kitchen direction. Well, that wasn't helpful at all and felt like a waste of time. He should know that S2 won't give him a clear answer.

And then it hit him. His face exploded with a whole new shade of red, one that should be named after him.

"S2!"

At the outraged scream coming from the living room, S2 just smiled, clearly pleased with himself, not stopping smearing bread with butter even for a second.

***

"You mad?"

Steve didn't answer. He was on the couch, in the exact spot S2 was minutes ago. He was hunched, elbows resting on his knees, one hand on top of the other, and he put his chin on them, lips thinned. Stubborn eyes.

S2 took another bite out of his sandwich, chewing slowly. He didn't feel remorseful at all.

"If you stop brooding, I will give you the rest of my sandwich."

No reaction. Maybe even the frown on Steve's face got bigger. Was S2 offering him leftovers?

"Ugh. You want to see what I sketched?"

That got S1's attention. He finally looked at the other him.

S2 smiled softly. He pushed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and sat next to Steve, opening his sketchbook. After he swallowed the sandwich, he went through the pages, explaining what he drew and why sharing his memories with Steve.

And it was sweet again.

***

Not so sweet when lunchtime came. Steve and Tony were already in the kitchen, setting the table for four, reheating some leftover Chinese food from last day. Steve put some freshly made rice on the table, intended to go with sweet and sour pork and lemon chicken and some leftover spring rolls no one had room left for, when the other couple entered the kitchen, T2, a little ruffled and dazed and smiling sweetly, having experienced a very nice wake up from his long nap, S2 smiling proud and following his boyfriend.

"Two out of three," S2 said to Steve, grabbing a spring roll and biting into it.

Steve scoffed, the scoff going unnoticed when Tonys started to chatter with each other.

If S2 wanted to be an asshole again, S1 won't make it easy for him.

***

It happened sooner than Steve thought. After lunch, Steve stayed in the kitchen, scrubbing the dishes. Minutes later, S2 came back, standing behind Steve and pressing into him.

S1 paused his work. He rearranged his grasp on the sponge and let S2's hands travel along his body, caressing his torso.

"Going for three out of three?" S1 asked, pretending to be interested. He felt S2's grin pressed to his neck. Hook, line, and sinker.

"You know it."

Steve hummed. He turned around in S2's arm and looked deep into his eyes. "Not gonna happen," he said strongly, pushing the sponge into S2's chest, leaving a wet mark on his shirt. "Finish washing the dishes."

Stunned, S2 opened his mouth, watching Steve walking away, a pleased smile on his lips. Huh. How the roles reversed.

"You are killing my vibe, S1!" S2 called, but obediently dipped his hands in the water and resumed the choir.

S1 only kept smiling, considering it a win. If S2 wanted it, he would make him work for it.

***

The game of cat and mouse lasted for the rest of the day. S2 tried to surprise S1 any occasion he got, and S1 always managed to wriggle away, finding himself something more urgent to do instead. The epitome of pathetic make out attempts was reached when late evening Steve walked out of the shower and into the bedroom, a towel on his hips and another one wiping his hair dry and saw S2 spread on the top of the covers. One of his hands was behind his head, the other one laid down casually along his side, one knee bent. Completely naked. Honestly, the only thing that was missing was a rose between his teeth.

"Seriously, dude?" Steve asked, eyeing the other him in disbelief. The asshole could be stubborn.

"You know you want me," S2 said in a sultry whisper.

"You know I could just go back to the bathroom and jerk myself off while looking in the mirror, that would be like making out with you."

S2 grimaced. That was something he didn't think of before. "Oh, come on, man!" he whined, losing his cool and making S1 giggle. "Don't be mean!"

"Mean?" S1 continued to giggle. "Why do you want this anyway? You already had both Tonys."

S2 zipped his mouth. There was an answer to it, but he was not keen on sharing. Steve felt that maybe it was more serious than he initially assumed and sat down on the bed, next to S2's legs.

"Come on. Tell me," Steve asked, no snark, no irony, just kindness.

S2 dropped his head, feeling that it was time for honesty hour. "I just need to feel on top again," he mumbled his answer out.

"What?" Steve asked in disbelief, while S2 stubbornly avoided his gaze. "What does that even mean- oh. Is it because of what happened yesterday?"

S2's head got even lower and he whimpered something, clearly embarrassed. Of course, he had fun with his Tony. He loved seeing his boyfriend's smiling face and the love-filled look when Steve gave himself over. Just letting go of control was not easy for him. He needed to feel in control again.

Steve tried to hold back a smile. It wasn't a mean one, but a fond one, while he thought how unreasonable the other he was. Then again, he could imagine what it was so hard for the other him to drop his male alpha act.

"Alright. Three out of three," Steve agreed, tossing the towels aside, deciding to let the other him have this win. S2 perked up at that. "But only because you are stupid and you look cute while being stupid."

"I will take that," S2 nodded, watching S1 climbing over him until their bodies aligned. The kiss was slow and gentle, filling them both with a sweet, soothing feeling.

"You still didn't tell me if you ever slept with a woman," S2 reminded into the kiss.

Instead of feeling offended, S1 smiled. His counterpart shared two secrets with him today and Steve felt a lot closer to him, finally witnessing the more vulnerable side, S2 was so desperate to hide away from everyone. S1 still called the other him an asshole in his mind, but it was a lot fonder and warm than earlier today.

"If you make as limp and dazed as Tonys, I will tell you," Steve bargained in a honeyed voice.

A smile spread over S2's lips. Real and honest. Beautiful.

"Can do, doll," S2 took Steve by the shoulders and reversed their positions, getting Steve on his back, while he hovered above him, before sinking down.

—————-

<– previous part // next part —>

————-

answer to what Tony and women have in common

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while you’re here, remember to read a bonus DTR chapter - The Ending that won’t happen - what would happen if Thanos showed in DTR world? here is your answer! 

————-

OPENING A TAG LIST FOR DTR! If you want to be noted about updates for this series, leave a comment below or send me an ask!

tag list

@princess-evans-addict , @ticklishwallflower,

[b-kitsune]

Many ways to say I love you: Day Eight.

Kidge-a-palooza 2019 Prompt: Discourage. Pairing: Kidge (VLD) Universe: Lesbian!AU. Status: Part 1/2.

Keith was worried, and her heart trembled slightly when she couldn't see Pidge anywhere in the bar seats. She had stood up for five seconds to greet an old high school friend with whom she had lost contact for many years, and it was enough time to lose her among the sea of ​​people in that place.

Where the hell had she gone?

''Keith, is everything okay?'' She heard Hunk at her side when he watched her worried, she nodded with a growl coming out of her throat.

''Yeah, I've just lost sight of someone.''

''Awww, have you finally got a girlfriend after all these years? I'm very proud of you!''

''It's ... Actually a friend.''

She answered in a faint whisper that it cost Hunk to listen when they approached the bars for a drink. But he definitely didn't overlook the way she had said it. The girl who was missing at the bar was someone important to Keith.

''Will not you go find her?''

''No, she must be with Shiro on the terrace. If she had left, she would have called me.'' She answered without further ado while taking a sip of black vodka when it was delivered. While a curiously ornate drink came into Hunk's hands. Keith looked at him curiously.

''What? I like cocktails, they are cute and sweet.''

''Okay, I'm the least likely person to recriminate you for what you drink.'' Keith answered with a shrug.

''Is Shiro also in this bar too?''

Hunk asked interested, Shiro had been his martial arts teacher many years ago and remembered him with real appreciation. Keith's older brother was a kind and talented person who always knew what to say at the right time.

''Sure, although we prefer the less ... Noisy, we knew this place thanks to Allura, a friend of the university. And it has good music, unlike many others.''

''I see.'' Hunk drank a little more of his own cocktail.

''And what have you done? Since you moved to California, we didn't hear from you again, not even Lance knew about you.''

''Yeah, well ... It's been difficult years, my mother got sick and we had to take care of her. But everything is fine now.''

''I'm glad to hear it, buddy.''

Keith smiled in sympathy when Hunk began to talk about what he had done when he moved to his mother's hometown. She had missed him quite a bit in recent years, but she couldn't keep her concentration when Pidge's face rested on her thoughts in her mind.

She sensed that she was outside with Shiro, and she assumed that if she looked out the window Keith could see her smoking next to her brother, away from the noise inside.

The problem was that Pidge didn't want her company at that moment, she was rejecting her completely and Keith couldn't blame her.

However, it was all Lance's fault, not hers. Her stupid best friend turned out to be a terribly toxic relationship for the poor girl during the time they spent together, and Pidge's heart ended up shattered some months ago. He had thrown her the day when Pidge found him kissing with another girl in his apartment, the bastard didn't even apologize when she demanded explanations. Subsequently, Lance didn't even prove to be sorry when she was confronted the next day when things were a little calmer and Pidge needed to pick up some things she had left in his apartment when they spent some nights together.

Keith could be angry with Lance and want to break his face for making her cry, completely oblivious to how they were both becoming in the last time, but deep-down Keith knew that something like this would happen sooner or later. Lance had never shown any real interest in Pidge before they started dating, she was sure he didn't even know her real name.

It hurt to see Pidge through the corridors of the university labs with a stony, expressionless face, swallowing pain to perform in the final examinations as if nothing had happened. When in the background Keith knew that all she wanted to do was scream in pain for her beloved love.

And Keith ... She was lost in a stupid crush that would never be reciprocated.

She loved the foolish Katherine Holt from the day she saw her in an advanced physics class, she approached her with a random question and since then they began to get closer and closer, getting to introduce themselves to their own families. Pidge had congenial almost immediately with Shiro and her parents, and Keith had found a friendly rivalry with Matt when they met, the Holt family was always very kind to her when she visited them.

She had come to think illusively, that maybe her feelings could be reciprocated by that pretty girl with big glasses. But when she introduced her to Lance, she knew immediately that she would never have a chance with Katie Holt. Being rejected even before confessing.

Baby, I don't feel so good

Six words you never understood

Keith moaned audibly when she heard that song that resonated on the bar loudspeakers, preferring to go outside to light a cigar and stop complaining. Hunk preferred to remain silent and accompany her. Anyway, he had lost his friends for many hours, and being with Keith to relive old times was much more fun.

Four days has never felt so long

If three's a crowd and two was us

One slipped away

When Keith reached the door and lit the first cigar of the night, she felt that her chest was hit by a person. She was, in general, a fairly tall woman compared to the average, thanks to her mother's Russian heritage, so it used to happen regularly that low women tended to hit her by accident.

I just wanna make you feel okay

But all you do is look the other way, mm

But when she looked down, she realized it was Pidge who had decided to bury her face between her chest. While holding her tightly around her waist.

I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay

I just kinda wish you were gay

Keith groaned defeated when her heart was painfully compressed, the damn girl was stupidly adorable without even trying. She had fallen so deep for her. Hunk for his part preferred to ignore them and go to Shiro when he saw him in the distance sitting in one of the chairs.

Is there a reason we're not through?

Is there a 12 step just for you?

Our conversation's all in blue

''Keith, I feel dizzy.''

''That's because you've been drinking too much, shorty.''

She responded like a big sister scolding her for her bad behavior, she was drunk up and could barely stay on her own feet. Keith looked up and saw Shiro laughing with Adam when he greeted Hunk in a warm embrace, the idiot hadn't realized how much Pidge had drunk while flirting with his co-worker.

To spare my pride

To give your lack of interest an explanation

Do not say I'm not your type

Keith took her by the waist with one hand, while with the other she took her cigar to exhale the smoke away from her face, walking towards an area where they wouldn't interrupt the way of the people who walked around. Pidge watched her, curious, with those big eyes full of life while leaning much more on the body of Keith.

''Keith, Keith ...'' She repeated, again and again when she staggered around her body, Keith breathed trying to find some patience. ''Why do you have a boy's name?''

''I already told you, my mother thought it was nice and neutral.''

''I like it.'' Without realizing, Pidge took her cigar to take a deep breath while briefly closing her eyes. Keith looked at her resignedly, had definitely drunk too much. ''It's strange, like you.''

''Thank you?'' Responded resentfully. So Pidge stroked the outline of her cheek with a downcast look.

''No, don't get mad, I mean I like it, like you. It's the best name ... I swear it.''

''I understand you, Pidge. It's okay.''

Just say that I'm not your preferred sexual orientation

I'm so selfish

But you make me feel helpless, yeah

Keith had to do something with Pidge's hands. She was being too cheeky stroking her while wiggling around her. She had to be patient, wherever she was, or else she could do something that would end their friendship. Keith couldn't help but, inside her mind, an inner voice told her that it was what she wanted, that she was tempting her to kiss her and take whatever she wanted from her.

I just wanna make you feel okay

But all you do is look the other way

I can not tell you how much I wish I did not want to stay

But Keith knew it was impossible. She told herself to discourage her real intentions. Even with Pidge's breath gently touching the contour of her collarbone, and her hands holding her waist tightly to try to bring her closer to her body, in a vain attempt not to fall cause of her drunkenness.

''You're the only good thing I have left in this life.'' Pidge said, dragging the words in her mouth. ''I'd be so lost if you left me, Keith... Never get mad at me, please.''

''I would never get mad at you.'' She answered while watching her take the last puffs of her stolen cigar. ''I love you so much to get away from me.''

''Seriously?'' Pidge asked temptingly, with a cheeky smile when she got closer and closer to her. ''How much do you love me, Keith? More than Lance?''

''Of course more than Lance!''

That name bothered her for a moment, seeing herself being compared to him didn't generate a good taste in her mouth, much less in a situation where she had so close to Pidge that the distance became tiny, almost reaching to taste her lips. If Keith was close enough, surely, she could ...

''You know? Every day I wonder ... Again, and again, something that hasn't let me sleep.''

''Oh yeah? What?'' Whispered, without breaking eye contact with those golden eyes that just kept open.

''Something that makes me think you would be mad at me if I told you ...''

''I will not get mad.''

''Because you love me.'' Pidge replied Keith nodded. ''But maybe... Sometimes when you're so good to me, I wonder ... How would it have been to kiss you instead of Lance that night ...''

''Kiss me ...'' Keith repeated, drinking from the image she had of Pidge at that moment, with her lips open, her face flushed, and her eyes needy. ''You are drunk.''

''Yes.'' Shrugged. ''But I also imagine it, again and again, as it would have been, and the next night, and the next, and the next ...''

Their lips collided as they both approached, gently, unhurriedly. Being so natural that at no time did they feel bad with the touch of the other. Slowly savoring the taste of their mouths, they held each other tightly when they felt the taste of black vodka and tobacco mingling with each other, like something toxic, intoxicating, suffocating in brief moments when they didn't go away in a long time.

I just wish you were gay

I just wish you were gay

Pidge closed her eyes, letting herself be carried away by the moment she had waited so long since she realized that her feelings weren't purely platonic. Keith never did, thinking that if she closed her eyes and lost the image of her at any moment, it would vanish like a broken dream.

I just wish you were gay

It was a kind and slow kiss, which was repeated that night before and after leaving the bar. Continued in Keith's apartment when they needed a little more privacy, and continued, again, and again, and again...

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Need You Tonight - Part 3

The skinny man hurls the controller on the stony ground, a useless piece of hardware now that the drone is ruined, then kicks the shattered remains away, letting it roll down into the dark brush. Achieving this, he drops to sit cross-legged, chewing his fingernails in frustration.

“I don’t believe this…!” he mutters under his breath. “I don’t believe this…! Piece of shit…!” On his laptop, the screen now displaying camera footage from the drone now only shows static, leaving him with no indication of Kilo and Trish’s exact position. 

“The black guy turned out to be craftier than I thought. I can’t believe he got the pigs and his thug pals to fight each other! Not to mention, he’s managed to keep up with NEED YOU TONIGHT this whole time! The rate they’re going, they’ll find me before long…”

Something abruptly catches in his throat and his facial expression crumples. A high, ululating wail escapes from his lips, accompanied by a flood of tears spilling from his eyes and hunching over as if he had some great pain in his gut. “It’s not fai-ha-ha-ha-hair~!!” he declares at length, “Why does my life have to be so hard all the time~? Nobody ever understands, not my parents, or my teachers or anybodyyy~! All I want is a pretty girl to fall in love with and look after me, but all the girls in schools just went after jerks instead of nice guys like mee~!”

He devolves into ugly, wordless sobbing, his body shaking with each tear-sodden moan. The cool breeze blows down the hills, and NEED YOU TONIGHT returns. It hovers a few feet off the ground, its ragged coattails fluttering in the wind. Shizuka is drugged, not dead, but you would not know it. Completely limp, her mouth hangs slightly open, her eyes shut tight. She may as well be on a different planet.

As quickly as he started, the skinny man stops crying and sits upright. Sinister intent glimmers in his completely dry eyes. “So you’re finally back, NYT.” He stands to inspect Shizuka, lifting her face. “Why the hell is there all this trouble over one little blonde chica? Why is she wearing face-paint? It’s not Halloween, or Spring Break!” Something brushes his face and he looks to see a golden thread emerging from her head. “This is… so this is how they kept up with NYT, huh? Damn it! This isn’t the black guy’s power, it must be… Damn it!

“At the rate they're going, they’ll be upon me in less than ten minutes. Is that enough time? I got no hope of standing up to that negro’s power. Who are you to him, anyway?” He asks, turning to Shizuka. He receives no answer. “A sugar mommy, or something? Hmm, doesn’t matter. He’s come a long way and gone through a lot of trouble, to save you. That much is obvious. So it’s gooood~...” He grins, formulating a plan. He reaches for a backpack and pulls out a pair of night vision goggles. “I can beat him. As long as I have you, I can beat him. And then, me and my darling Trish will finally be together~...”

                                                        ---

“Stop the bike!”

Trish releases the grip of the motorcycle. The vehicle rolls to a stop on the dusty forest trail. “What is it?” she asks. Since escaping the freeway, they had taken the winding road into the Hollywood Hills. 

Kilo gets up from the backseat and points to a spot in the distance, taking a few steps towards. To another hill, where an icon sits: the Hollywood sign, the fluorescent emblem of the LA’s glitz and glamour.

“I saw something up there! A twinkle of light, like from binoculars or something. There, behind the H! Which way is the thread going?” 

Trish checks the yellow hair around her finger. It trembles in the breeze, and leads straight to the sign. “She’s up there, I’m sure of it. He must have been up there the entire time, watching us from on high. How theatrical of him.”

“You gotta be kidding…” Kilo groans, rubbing the back of his neck. The rings in his hair clink together. “Why do these guys always gotta be so dramatic?”

Trish stares at him for a second, but lets it slide. “We should go on foot from here,” she says, stepping off the motorcycle.

“What?! You just said she’s up there right now. That’s gotta be half a mile away, you want us to walk? Leave her up there with the user?!”

“She won’t be harmed, I’m sure of it.” She begins to walk up the dusty trail. Kilo follows.

“You don’t know that for sure,” he says, “We don’t know this guy, or what he’s capable of.”

“I know his Stand. A Stand is a reflection of the user’s heart, and it’s obvious that we’re dealing with a skittish, desperate person. There’s no doubt he’ll use Shizuka as a weapon against us, as he did before. He won’t dare to harm his best weapon.”

“What if he just runs? Splits, taking Shizuka with him into the night? Then what?”

“I don’t think he’ll do that either. He may be a hostage-taking coward, but he’s no fool either. Whatever he wants with Shizuka, he must know he can’t afford to have us on his tail all night. No, he’s lying in wait for us. Waiting to eliminate us before making his escape. We can’t afford to spook him by speeding up there.”

“... So, we gonna catch him by surprise? Take him out before he can hurt Shizuka.”

“It’s the safest choice. That Stand doesn’t look built for combat, but that doesn’t matter. The worst thing you can do when dealing with Stand users is underestimate them.”

Kilo scoffs. “I wasn’t planning on it. Soon as I find this bastard, I’ll kill him before he has a chance to even squeal.”

With that, he starts running up the road and overtakes Trish. She runs as well, quickly matching his pace. The trail is dusty and poorly lit, with some areas being covered in total darkness. They do not use any lights, for fear of giving away their positions. 

Trish easily keeps pace with Kilo, but halfway up the track, one foot falls out of place and twists. “Ahhh!!” She gasps in pain as she stumbles, losing her footing and beginning to fall.

“Trish!” Kilo shouts as he rushes quickly to her aid. Before she can tumble off the side of the cliff, she reaches out with SPICE GIRL. SATURN BARZ extends its hand, and catches SPICE GIRL by the wrist, then quickly pulls it and its user off the edge of the cliff. 

Kilo steadies her, sitting her down. “You alright?”

“Nnh, I’m fine. It’s just a sprain, I think. Nothing serious. I never was the outdoorsy type,” she says, grinning ruefully. 

Kilo can’t help himself. Half a smile forms on his face, and he pulls her to her feet. “We’re ain’t got much further to go. Let’s get this done.”

Above, on the hill displaying the Hollywood sign, the skinny man watches the trail through advanced night-vision goggles. But these too are rendered useless, as the pair leave the trail entirely, cutting across the rough terrain. It matters little to him. His preparations are complete. He slinks into the shadows once again.

It takes time, but eventually Trish and Kilo reach the top of the hill and crouch beneath the shadow of the radio tower. There’s no-one there. They can see no-one, no user, no Stand. No Shizuka. Approaching the spot behind the giant letter H, they find the remains of his little camp. A water flask, a laptop, bits and pieces of a controller and a dark grey backpack.

“Where’s he hiding?” Kilo mutters, squinting at the surrounding area. Grumbling, he begins rooting through the backpack, before tipping it upside down, allowing the content to spill out onto the dirt. The first thing he notices is a collection of Trish Una CDs. “What the hell?”

Trish looks around, careful this time to keep her footing. It is a long way down if she should fall. She checks the thread around her finger, but it seems to lead straight south, right off the side of the cliff. A silent dread builds in her. 

She sighs in relief when she finds that the thread has merely been tied around one of the support beams holding the sign up. She quickly unties it, and walks ahead to see where it leads. She is passing between the two giant Ls. Trish doesn’t realize, though, the dementedly hollow stare of NEED YOU TONIGHT gazing at her, its rusted needles aimed right for her throat.

It appears in her periphery, hanging in the air, its mouth agape, its eyes staring in either direction. SPICE GIRL immediately deflects the syringes and fires a volley of punches at its body. 

“Kilo!” It proves too fast however, as SPICE GIRL’s fits hit nothing but its rags, NYT flying backwards out of reach. They give brief pursuit, stopping at the final letter of the Hollywood Sign. “Over there!” Trish shouts, pointing at the shadow of the ‘D’.

He turns in time to see the user curling his lip at him. In one hand, he holds a silvery knife in his long, spidery fingers. The other hand he wraps around a limp, unconscious Shizuka. Kilo rushes to his feet, but a sudden rush of air behind him makes him freeze. NYT hovers slightly above, behind the master. The user of NEED YOU TONIGHT: Ricardo Cone.

“Don’t move, you bastard! You take one step forward, and I’ll slash this bitch’s throat right open!!” To make his point, he presses the blade against her neck. A small stream of blood runs down to her collarbone.

Kilo clenches his jaw, but remains still. Cone scowls at him, as NYT floats closer to its user’s enemies. “That’s a good darkie! You stay absolutely, perfectly still like that. Don’t move, not even an inch! Don’t even turn around, you hear me!? NEED YOU TONIGHT is coming, you know why? I’ll tell you why…” His eyes flick upward to where NYT descends. Kilo can sense it behind him, but he doesn’t move.

[itsallavengers]

1 and stony???

Come over here and make me.

If there was one person Steve Rogers hated, it was Tony Stark.

God, that asshole. Thought he was hot shit because he was popular and the star player of the school soccer team and smart and funny and beautiful. And he always walked around wearing that ridiculous leather jacket with about a hundred zips and buttons on it, and it wasn’t cool, no matter what he said.

And the worst part about Tony Stark was definitely how nice he was to Steve.

Because it didn’t make sense, alright. For the first few years of highschool, Tony had laughed at him, he’d thrown pencils at the back of his head in class and bumped him in the halls and Steve had automatically bitten back on a sigh whenever he’d seen Tony in the corridors with him. He’d known Tony Stark was an asshole from day one, when he’d been twelve and Tony had told him how weird his backpack was.

And yet over the past few years, Tony’s attitude had changed. He’d stopped being such a dick. He smiled at him rather than laughing at him, and he waved on the corridors rather than just shove him, and Steve didn’t get it. Tony Stark was definitely plotting something, and was in it for the long haul here, because he wouldn’t just be nice to Steve for no reason. No way. 

Steve always watched him, just in case. Seeing as an attack could be at any moment, it was better to always be alert. He glanced over to Tony in math class and kept his eyes on Tony’s ass back when he walked through the corridors. Sometimes Tony would say hi, and Steve would say it back warily, keeping a hand tight around his backpack as he watched where Tony’s beautifully hazel eyes went, and whether they were plotting anything. 

One time, he’d overheard Tony talking to his friend Rhodey about one of his dates when they’d been sat nearby one another in bio, and Steve had heard all about how shittily it had gone, which definitely made him feel good. Because not only was Tony Stark an asshole, but the guy he’d been on the date with- Tiberius Stone- was an even bigger asshole, and Steve felt uncomfortable with the thought of Ty being anywhere near him.

Because then they’d just make each other worse, and it’d be bad for Steve, obviously.

He thought about it a lot during that biology class, actually. How, if he were to go on a date with Tony Stark (for information gathering purposes), he’d make it perfect. He’d learned a lot about Tony over the years. He knew that the boy liked Metallica, but he also had a soft spot for Frank Sinatra. Steve had a record of that which he’d play. And then Tony loved Twinkies, too. Steve could buy them, and he’d declare it their main course, and Tony would laugh that pretty laugh where his mouth curled up and his eyes crinkled and-

And yeah. That Steve would have the bastard right where he wanted him. Totally. 

But God, he’d never do what Ty had done- a shitty movie and then copping a feel in the back of the cinema? So fucking trashy. And cheap. Steve might be broke as shit, but if it was a date, then he’d put some Goddamn effort into at least making it nice for Tony, Jesus-

Hypothetically, of course. Because Steve wouldn’t ever date Tony Stark.

That being said, he probably shouldn’t have been talking about how crap Ty’s dating skills were to Bucky when the guy’s friends had been right behind him in the corridor anyway, hypothetical or not. Because as soon as they saw him again when Steve was alone, they didn’t waste any time with shoving him up against the lockers and then doing their level best to shove him inside one of them.

God, Steve hated highschool.

“Get the fuck off me,” Steve growled, yanking away as hard as he could against their hands as they tried to shove him backward. It wasn’t much use though- two versus one, and Steve wasn’t exactly fighting material, no matter how many times he managed to get into them. 

“Shut the fuck up, loser,” the bigger guy spat on him, actually fucking spat on him, and then punched him in the mouth for good measure, “this’ll teach you not to talk shit about people who are gonna be more than you ever will. The fuck were you even talking about- Ty’s a fuckin’ beast, he’s got people fallin’ at his feet.”

Steve rolled his eyes. What, were they going to start worshipping at his alter now? 

“You’re only jealous,” the second guy said with a sneer, and Steve laughed out at him blindly but the first guy pulled him back, opening him up for a bodyshot to his ribs that definitely made something crack, “we see the way you look at Tony. You’re obsessed with him. You got Rogers + Stark written on your notebooks, huh?”

“Fucking pathetic.”

“As if he’d ever look twice at you.”

Steve snarled, lashing his head forward and actually managing to brain one of them. “Fuck off- Tony Stark is an asshole,” he told them- the same thing he told everyone, because it was true-

“He’s right, you know.”

Steve’s head jerked as his brain recognised the voice immediately, and he watched as none other than Tony Stark himself marched forward, coming up behind the two guys currently doing their best to fit Steve into the locker. A strong hand curled around the first guy’s shoulders, and then Steve felt a sharp relief of pressure as Tony flung him off Steve and into the opposing wall. The second one backed off in surprise, putting out his hands as a show of peace.

“Whoah, hey, Tony, just calm it,” he said hurriedly, “I didn’t know you were buddies-”

“We’re not buddies,” Steve said viciously, raising his fists and then wiping his bloody nose with his sleeve. In front of him, Tony just looked vaguely amused. “If you want to try it as well, go the fuck ahead,” Steve growled, “I’ll fight all three of ya, I don’t care-”

“No one is doing any more fighting here, thank you very much,” Tony said, raising a hand. When he did, all of his stupid fucking zips jingled. “Morris, Elland- get fucking lost. You’re both getting black eyes tomorrow, and if I see you putting hands on Rogers again then I’m burning your Air Jordans, understand?”

Steve blinked in confusion, watching the two guys nod nervously and then scurry off down the hall, muttering to one another and glancing back as they did so. Which just left Steve and Tony with his stupid jangly zips.

“What do you want,” Steve said, not lowing his hands.

Tony leaned against the lockers, shrugging. “I was coming back from detention and saw them beating on you. Thought I’d step in.”

Steve frowned, wiping his hand across his face and probably smearing more blood everywhere. “Yeah, well I don’t need your help,” he said gruffly, “I totally had that.”

Tony’s eyes twinkled. “They definitely seemed like they were only holding on by the skin of their teeth,” he said in amusement, as Steve just scowled and turned away.

He heard Tony step forward. “Hey, I didn’t mean that to sound... I’m sure you would’ve survived on your own, God knows you get into enough altercations as it is- just thought I’d help you out. They shit their pants when I get mad at them because they’re fucking pussies, so.” Tony shrugged, “it’d be cool to have someone like that on your side, I figure-”

“You’re not on my side!” Steve snapped, stepping forward, “you’re just... you’re just being weirdly nice so that I let my guard down and then you can make fun of me again, or humiliate me in class or shove me over in the halls. Don’t think I’m not onto you, Stark, okay, I know your game!” He waggled a finger menacingly.

Tony just sighed, and looked genuinely remorseful as he said, “yeah, really sorry about that. I was a prepubescent teen with no idea what to do with the sudden influx of gay thoughts I’d have whenever you entered a room. So I pulled on your pigtails in order to get your attention.” Tony pulled a face, before smiling, “but I’m cooler now! Comfortable with my sexuality, at least thirty percent more stable and also, still kind of crazy about you.”

Steve just blinked. “No you’re not,” he said.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Nope. No you’re really not.”

“Well, I beg to differ.”

Steve made a face. “You don’t even know me!” he spluttered, “you’re not... you don’t like me, don’t be ridiculous. You think I’m dorky and uncool.”

Tony laughed, and God, it really was a nice laugh. “I do,” he agreed, “and that is the most endearing thing in the world.” He paused, before adding, “actually no- the face you’re making right now is the most endearing thing in the world.”

Steve... had no idea how to respond. He... well... I mean, for starters, he didn’t even like Tony. “I don’t even like you.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“You’re- you’re an asshole, I hate you! I’ve always hated you. You suck.”

“Yes to the asshole part. No to the ‘you hate me part’, Yes to the ‘you suck’ part, but probably in a different context to what you’re thinking.” Tony paused, before looking at Steve’s face with a frown. “You might want to go A&E for that nose. Looks broken.”

Steve’s head was spinning. Tony was completely bamboozling him here. Why was he saying that he liked Steve? That was... that couldn’t be true, could it? Anyway. Steve didn’t even like him.

On a completely irrelevant note, he bet that if he kissed Tony now, he’d probably taste faintly like the strawberries Steve had seen him eating for lunch. 

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Steve said, shaking his head and pressing gently on his very sore nose, “it’s f-”

“Yeah, you’re going to the hospital,” Tony nodded slowly and then pulled out his phone. “It’s fifteen minutes away. I’ll drive.”

Steve looked at him incredulously. “Stop ignoring me! I’m not going!”

“You are, Steve.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

Steve spluttered indignantly, hands going to his hips. “Then- then come over here and make me!” He said, attempting at confrontational. 

But Tony just cocked an eyebrow in amusement, and before Steve knew what was happening, Tony had swooped down and then picked him up in a perfect fireman’s carry, walking them both down the corridor with absolute ease. Steve just froze in complete and utter shock. This was the first time he’d ever been this close to Tony. Oh God, he smelt like metal and lemony things, and Steve was looking right down at he perfectly shaped ass.

“I hate you so much,” Steve said grumpily, “and I really hate being carried.”

Tony continued on, unfazed. “Okay, so I have a proposition,” he said casually, pushing open the main exit doors and then plodding easily down the stairs. He stopped halfway down, however. “I’ll let you down if you agree to go on a date with me.”

Steve froze. “That’s not fair,” he said weakly. 

Above him, Tony sighed. “Okay. So that was a lie. I’ll let you down right now if you want me to, I’m not an asshole, and I’m not going to force you to go the hospital, but I really think you should. And. Also. The date thing. You should do that too. Because I’m an asshole and my jacket probably does have too many zips, you’re right, but I also really like you and have done for six years, I’ve always just been too scared to tell you?” Tony shrugged sheepishly. “But there. Offer’s on the table. Hey! Kill two birds with one stone- the hospital trip can count as our date, and then if you decide that actually I’m not evil whilst we’re there, we could maybe go for a second one sometime?”

Jesus, Tony actually sounded nervous. Steve couldn’t see his face, but he knew what it would look like, because he’d memorised all of Tony’s facial expressions. 

Shit.

Okay. 

So maybe he didn’t hate Tony Stark as much as he thought.

“Put me down,” Steve told him, and with a small sigh of defeat, Tony did. He looked down at his expensive shoes and stepped back, readying to accept defeat. 

Steve just sighed. “I suppose I could go to the hospital,” he muttered, “if you insist. And. Uh. The date, too. We could do that sometime as well.”

Tony paused, but then his head jerked up and he practically beamed. “Really?” He asked, beginning to bounce on his toes. 

Steve couldn’t help but laugh, even though it really hurt. “Yeah, really,” he said, “I guess I was kind of exaggerating how terribly evil you were in order to save myself from uh- going too far the other way.”

Tony’s smile, if even physically possible, grew bigger. “That’s the biggest compliment anyone has ever told me,” he said, holding out a hand for Steve to take, “now can you please take my hand and let me escort you to the vehicle?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, but tentatively slid his fingers through Tony’s. “I can walk, you know.”

Tony squeezed their hands together. “Oh, I know. I’ve just wanted to hold hands with you since I was twelve.”

[choicesfanficanonymous]

Kin (Estela x MC/Taylor (f), Estela/Aleister sibling stuff)

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Summary: Post-ending (Endless ending). The world beyond La Huerta is gone, Taylor’s family are nothing but a fabricated daydream, and Estela’s only living relative is a walking reminder of her connection with the figure that tore her life apart. What do love and kinship mean in this burned and scarred world?

Word Count: 5384 words (sorry, a long one!)

“Hear me out, dudes,” Raj urged, setting down steaming plates of food on the table. “this place has everything; everything we need… except for…”

“Waterslides!” Craig exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air.

“…waterslides!” Raj finished.

“And how,” Aleister sneered, “pray tell, do you intend to build such a thing? I suppose one of you is an engineer, equipped to build a theme park monstrosity up to health and safety regulations.”

Jake scoffed. “Malfoy, when has anything we’ve done met health and safety regulations? I dunno… maybe jumping into the path of the Loch Ness monster’s psycho cousin with nothing but a ripped-up hang-glider was a stretch, but a slide? That’s goin’ too far!”

“Fine, enjoy your death-trap. I can assure you I won’t be running around beneath it holding a net.” Aleister wrinkled his nose. “But there’s no escaping the fact that a waterslide would be an absolute eyesore. I swear, paradise is wasted on you people!”

“But who build’s a world-class tropical resort without a waterslide?”

Around the tables by the pool that had been brought together for breakfast, the Catalysts, save for Diego who had spent the night in Elyys’tel with Varyyn, chattered animatedly. Since Rourke’s demise, it had become routine, along with the nightly dinner gathering. Dealing, as they were, with a loss so huge, so devastating, holding together was the best they could do. Raj was in his element- on almost full-time hospitality duty- and he saw it as a way of honouring his grandmother. If he could do anything at all to keep his friends smiling as they moved through unspeakable grief, he’d be doing her proud. Taylor, wracked with guilt for her failure to sacrifice herself to end her friends’ suffering, had been reclusive, but she was trying… she was trying so hard to be the supportive shoulder they all needed. Beneath the table, her fingers were entwined with Estela’s, stroking them in a circular motion, and feeling a soft and reassuring pressure in return. As she took a sip of juice- what strange fruit it contained, a mystery- Taylor briefly made eye contact with her wife, and it was enough to make her heart flutter. She tuned back in to the familiar bickering and reached for a breakfast burrito.

“This is ridiculous!” Aleister was saying. “When you’ve all emerged from fantasy land, we can talk about creating something that’s actually worthwhile. The sheer knowledge we have access to- the possibilities are…”

“Waterslide! Waterslide! Waterslide!” chanted Craig, banging his fists on the table. To his great satisfaction, Aleister’s face began to colour with increasing frustration.

“I’m sorry- how old are you; eight?”

“And what are you, the fun police? Estela- he’s your brother, stick it to him!”

In an instant, the table went quiet. Estela’s expression turned cold and stony. A hard glare resting upon Craig, who withered back with an averted gaze, she got to her feet and, without a word, walked away.

Aleister looked pointedly in the opposing direction, discomfort showing clearly on his flushed, drawn face. Grace immediately placed her hand over his, looking over him with great concern.

Zahra rolled her eyes. “Nice one, dumbass, you really outdid yourself there.”

Quinn’s brow furrowed, worry all over her face. “Taylor, is she okay?”

“I- I’ll go after her.” Her gut twisting, Taylor rose from the table. The silently bubbling tension within the group had finally breached the surface, and she felt a personal responsibility to resolve it.

She strode out onto the sand, picking up the pace until she had almost reached her wife’s side. Without looking back, Estela reached her hand out behind her, inviting Taylor in.

“It’s a shame we can’t fix that faulty connection between Craig’s brain and his mouth.” Taylor took Estela’s hand and grasped it tight.

“Family means something,” Estela growled. “My family is gone. Aleister is not… is not…”

With a tug of her arm, Taylor pulled her into a hug. Estela was tense, but she returned the gesture, her movements stilted.

“Do you want to be on your own right now?”

Estela took a moment before answering. “No. Stay with me.” She held on tightly to Taylor’s hand. It anchored her, holding her from losing herself in grief and rage. Slowly, she calmed herself and gave Taylor an encouraging smile. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I don’t worry about you- pretty sure you are literally the biggest badass on earth. But I do care about you. And even the strongest people can use a hand to hold sometime.”

“You can do more than hold my hand, you know,” Estela said, a smirk on her face and a glint in her eye.

With a giggle, Taylor nuzzled her face close to Estela’s and planted a sweet kiss on her cheek. “That’s a start, right?”

“I’m feeling better already.”

As she went in for another kiss, Taylor felt a gentle hand catch the side of her face, lovingly drawing her lips towards Estela’s. They met in a tender, lingering dance.

Estela came away, her cheeks glowing. She sighed. “Goddammit, I love you, Taylor.”

“Goddammit, Estela, I think I love you too,” Taylor said, a laugh in her voice. She playfully twiddled with Estela’s hair as she watched her expression become thoughtful.

“I do want to open up to everyone. I care about them,” Estela said. “Even Aleister, two-faced bastard,” she added with a snarl. “It’s just, some things I… can’t. He’s no brother of mine. Hearing it is a knife in my chest. You understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. Well, as much as anyone can. You know, I don’t think anyone’s expecting you to be a bubbly, outgoing life of the party all of a sudden. And everyone knows you care. It’s obvious. They like you for you. I think even Aleister does… in his snobby, terrified way.”

“He should be scared. Half the time I can’t stand to look at him. And the stupid thing is, I don’t even know if it’s the betrayal, or if I just don’t want a reminder of who I am.”

Taylor shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m getting the impression the ‘secret half-sibling’ thing is weirding him out too.” She kicked off her shoes and walked into the sea, enjoying the cooling feeling of the water lapping around her ankles. “Look, I know talking isn’t always your strong point, but it might do you both good to just put it all out there. Maybe that’d do something about that elephant in the room.”

“The last elephant on earth… maybe we should keep it, for now.” Estela sat down in the sand and rested her head on her hands. There was no hurry; they were together on this island for as long as they lived. Confronting Aleister, confronting whatever it was he meant to her, it could all wait.

“Just… just, don’t let it trample over you, all right? You deserve to be happy.”

In spite of everything, a smile tugged at Estela’s mouth. She watched Taylor wandering through the shallows, her face a picture of quiet contemplation. There had been a lot of that in the week or so since Rourke’s plans had been scuppered… introspection, coming to terms with new identities and adjusting to a future so different to what any of them had envisioned. Estela knew she was fortunate; grief for her tio and the earth aside, her future was far brighter than she’d have expected not so long ago. She just hoped her friends- friends… how long it had been since she’d had any of those- would in time find the same contentment. Perhaps more than anyone else, though, Taylor appeared lost. Estela looked over her wife protectively in the aftermath; with no quest for vengeance to occupy her, her purpose was now to support Taylor through a turbulent period of transition. And, of course, it worked both ways. Today felt like a bad day, but there would be tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that. Estela bit her lip, her eyes glazing over as troubled thoughts swirled through her mind. Perhaps Taylor was right. Perhaps she should stop skirting around Aleister, if nothing else but to avoid awkwardness for everyone else. She wondered, how did Aleister perceive her? The child of his father’s affair, he could quite easily resent her. Maybe he should. After all, at the end of the line, Rourke had acknowledged Estela as his truest heir, not Aleister. As much as she tried to shake the ridiculous thought from her head, Estela found herself coming back to a disturbing conclusion. Part of her was afraid that Aleister- not family, never family, but a genuine link to her mother- might turn away from her. She angrily pushed the notion from her thoughts. She didn’t need or want a half-brother, and certainly not a literal Rourke clone at that. It was just… part of letting go, and she’d grown enough to know that letting go was what she needed. Having been powered on anger for so very long, Estela wasn’t quite sure who she’d be once she had no living person to channel it towards. Would she simply implode? Perhaps… if she didn’t have Taylor.

The faint sound of sand beneath light feet made Estela alert. She glanced sideways to see Quinn approaching, a piled-up plate in her hands.

“I thought you might appreciate breakfast to go,” said Quinn shyly.

Surprised and touched, Estela sat back in the sand and offered Quinn a bashful smile. That girl really was too good.

“Thanks.”

Taylor came running back from the water and put her arms around Quinn. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Quinn beamed in response, and she carefully sat herself down beside Estela, making sure not to drop anything. “Well, I couldn’t let you miss out. I think we all know Raj’s heart would break just a little if you two didn’t get to enjoy his breakfast burritos.” Tentatively, she placed a hand on Estela’s arm. “And, if I’m honest, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Estela’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t shy away. “I’m… fine. Is Aleister…?” She shook her head. “However I feel about him, I mean… I don’t like him… but we’re on the same side. When it comes down to it, it’s not him who’s really hurt me, it’s his father.” Still, she could not say ‘our’ father. Her tio was the only father figure she’d ever needed. Out of nowhere, she felt a stab of pity for Aleister. He’d never had that.

“I think he and Grace were gonna go down to the library together. That’s their happy place.”

Taylor plonked herself down in the sand and began tucking in. “Honestly? I think that Aleister’s pretty happy on the whole. He’s just adjusting to… a lot.” She gave a little sigh. Poor Aleister. With everything that had happened since the revelation of his origin, she hadn’t taken as much time as she should have to make sure he was okay. Responsible as she felt for caring for her gang of friends, she knew she’d dropped the ball there. “Like we all are. But we’ve all got each other’s backs.” Relieved to see Estela looking a little brighter- another win for Raj’s cooking- she put her free arm around her. “I’m gonna have to give my compliments to Raj- these are so good!”

“We’ve got to be getting low on meat that isn’t squirrel or… dinosaur. Is there anything left in the freezer?”

Quinn furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “I think we’re getting near the end of our supplies. I’ve been meaning to do some baking but… once everything’s gone, it’s gone. We should talk to Varyyn; if the Vaanti can throw lavish feasts, there’s no reason why we can’t make La Huerta work for us too.”

“I don’t need to ask Varyyn to know how to hunt,” said Estela. She was quiet for a moment. They needed to start doing something. The initial high of the fight for survival ending had waned, and what was left was reality. Everyone was in pain. With emotions running high, the group could easily splinter, devoid of a clear way forward. Chilling around The Celestial wasn’t enough anymore. “But you’re right. We have everything we need here. I’m going to go hunting- or fishing, it feels like it’s gonna be a hot one.”

“You’ll teach me, right?” Taylor asked.

Estela just smiled. Honestly, she couldn’t imagine much she’d rather do with herself. She met Taylor’s eyes and answered her silently.

Beaming, Taylor raised her burrito. “To bringing home the bacon- or whatever the screwy La Huerta equivalent might be!”

“Cheers!” laughed Quinn as she and Estela bumped their tortillas to Taylor’s.

Having gathered a few supplies, all the while managing to avoid any awkward encounters in the wake of the breakfast drama, Estela led Taylor along the coast to the west, Furball trotting eagerly at their heels.

“There,” Estela said, nodding her head in the direction of a strip of land rising out into the sea. “There’s a reef just beyond the cliffs.”

Carefully, Taylor lowered herself down the rocky side of the grass-covered headland, gripping tightly with her fingertips in a precarious hold. Beneath her, Estela climbed down with ease, barely slowed by fact that she had the added complication of holding a spear under her arm.

Taylor huffed, a little breathless. A pebble plinked off her forehead, and she looked up to see Furball skittering around the edge, watching them with great curiosity. “You be careful, little guy! You don’t want to sl-“ She bit her tongue as she lurched downward, her foot missing the next hold. Scrambling to regain her grip, Taylor felt something firm beneath the ball of her foot, and she glanced beneath her.

“I think the fox is fine. You might want to check your own footholds.” Estela held the blunt end of the spear beneath Taylor’s foot until she appeared to have steadied herself. She settled on a jutting out ledge just above the water and held out a hand to guide her partner down the last little way.

“And we couldn’t have just swam out from the shore?”

“Not unless you want to catch all the waves breaking. It’s better to go straight to where the fish are.”

Stripping down to her swimming costume, Estela slunk into the water, her movements smooth and stealthy. Taylor followed suit, ducking under the crystal-clear water. Together they swam out to a colourful reef, where they found themselves surrounded by silver-scaled fish that appeared to shimmer in the bright sunlight. It was beautiful.

Running out of breath, Taylor returned to the surface and treaded water, watching as Estela rounded onto a target and popped her head above the water, hair plastered to her face.

“Hey, you want me to try and herd them over to you?”

Estela nodded. “Push them toward the sandbar, if you can.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Taylor swam from side to side, sending the fish swimming away from her- and towards the sandbar, where Estela was waiting. After a few moments, Estela streaked forwards, and came up with a writhing fish on the end of her spear.

“Okay, that was impressive.”

A little smile on her face, Estela beckoned Taylor over to the shallows surrounding the sandbar. She pulled her close against her chest and lowered into the water. “Here,” she said, taking hold of the fish with one hand and giving Taylor the spear with the other. “Don’t flail around so much. Be still… keep your eyes open… focus.”

Feeling her pulse quicken at the sensation of her partner wrapped around her, Taylor took a moment to redirect her attention to the task at hand. She held her breath and put her face under, trying to avoid sending ripples out into the water as Estela gently guided her spear arm backwards in preparation to strike. She didn’t move a muscle, and soon the fishes swam by them, oblivious. Seeing her chance and taking it, she thrust her arm forward, but the resistance from the water was greater than anticipated and she came short.

“Dammit!”

“Try again… you were close.”

Estela swam away, taking her catch back to the rocks, where Furball spun around in excited circles. Determined to catch something, Taylor slipped back beneath the surface and tried again… and again… and again… until finally…

“I got one!” she hollered, taking in a mouthful of water and spluttering.

“You’re a fast learner. Throw it here.”

The sun rose high into the sky, beating down hard on the La Huerta coastline. The pile of fish Furball had been diligently guarding had grown satisfyingly, and he proudly perched himself on top, watching as the women splashed about in the sea. At one point, Taylor had sat him on her shoulder, egging him on as he shot ice out into the waves, catching fish that got in the way of his short, powerful blasts. He only accidentally iced Estela one time. Leaving fishing to the pro, Taylor built up a small fire on the edge of the headland and managed to tackle the cliff face with just enough finesse to bring up a large fish to cook.

“Shit, it’s hot,” Taylor grumbled, very quickly realising that the water was very much the place to be.

Mrrrrp? Furball chirruped, and he sent out a small wave of snow. He bounced to the side and looked up at Taylor quizzically.

Taylor scooted over and sat in the newly frosted-over grass. “Thanks, little guy!” She pulled off a little piece of meat for him and tickled his back as he dug in. That little fox was totally unique, one of a kind. Had he ever had a family? Thinking about Estela and Aleister, about the families her friends had all lost, Taylor felt a bizarre loneliness. She could reach into her mind all she wanted, but there was nothing beyond sitting beside Diego on the plane. In fact, the more she tried, the less that came to her. Even knowing it was all fabricated, a lie, she wished the false memories of a childhood were still there. So she could at least pretend. Next to the lives of everyone she cared about, her existence seemed so… shallow… empty. You could scratch beneath her surface and you’d find nothing, no history at all.

“Something on your mind?”

Taylor jumped, looking behind her to see Estela hauling up the fruits of her efforts up onto the grassy outcrop. “God, you nearly made me jump outta my skin! You know you don’t have to sneak up behind me like a ninja, right?”

Estela crawled over, sitting down beside her wife with a little grin. “It’s fun making you squeal.”

“One of these days, I’m gonna get you so- “

“You can try, if you like. But you should know I don’t scare easily.”

“We’ll see…”

Brushing a wet strand of hair from Taylor’s face, Estela looked at her imploringly. “So, what has you so distracted? You looked… sad.”

Taylor shook her head. “It’s nothing. I…” And then she stopped. There was no point to hiding what she felt, not from Estela. “I’ve just been finding it harder and harder to recall anything I thought I knew before we came here. The fake memories Vaanu gave me. I know how crazy it sounds trying to hold onto something that was never really there, but… it’s all I’ve got.”

A thoughtful frown on Estela’s face, she considered Taylor quietly. “Maybe your true memories are taking their place, pushing them down. Is any of it left at all?”

“I can sort of recall things related to Diego. I guess those feel more real because he’s here, I’ve got something solid to build from. But anything else… no. It used to be like a blur, but now there’s nothing there. Blank. Of course, it was going to be like this- it’s not as if the memories I thought I had were ever real. I just feel hollow, like I’m missing something that should be there.”

Estela pulled her close, so they sat shoulder to shoulder. “I can’t imagine it,” she said softly.

Taylor winced. “This is going to sound insanely self-absorbed with, well, everything, but I wish I’d had a family. People to remember from my childhood. Hell, even to have had a childhood at all.”

“That’s not selfish. All those things; it’s part of being human. How could you not want that?” Estela gave a heavy sigh. “Memories, a past… family. Losing it all, it feels like you’re being ripped… torn to pieces. It’s the worst pain there is. But it hurts because what’s been taken away meant something. My mom, my tio… I would go through losing them again, over and over, if it meant we could have one more day together. Or an hour.” She leant her head against Taylor’s and closed her eyes. Hearing the gentle crashing of the waves, she could imagine they were sitting together on a San Trobidan beach. “I wish I could give you those memories… those hours.”

Grasping her lover’s hand tight, Taylor exhaled shakily. She slowly relaxed into a comfortable silence, closing her eyes to appreciate the feel of Estela next to her, giving unflinching support. Her stupid hurts and worries didn’t feel so shameful while she had that love surrounding her.

“Tell me,” Taylor whispered, after a long while. “Tell me about all the little things. The memories that make it worth the hurt.”

A small but warm smile came to Estela’s face. “For a long time I couldn’t look back. Looking back made me weak, and I couldn’t afford to be weak. Even when I was small, I couldn’t stand it. Mom wanted to protect me, and I never wanted her to feel like she’d failed. When I was eight, I broke my arm- or had it broken for me. Kids in San Trobida, they don’t know anything but fighting. That’s all we see all around us, on the news, it’s just normal… you learn to pull a punch young. It was after that, Tio Nicolas started to teach me to defend myself. I knew I would do whatever it took to follow after him; I was too young to understand, but I knew he was fighting so Mom didn’t have to worry anymore. When the riots kept me awake at night, I would crawl into bed with her. I wasn’t afraid… I didn’t know any different, but I knew she slept better if I was in her arms. I would go to sleep with her singing to me, stroking my hair, holding me like I was her whole world. I’d get up before sunrise, make her a coffee. Spill it everywhere ‘cause, you know, broken arm. And she didn’t care that I made a mess, she just knew I loved her.” Her voice became hushed. “I loved her so much, Taylor.”

“I know.” Taylor gently rubbed Estela’s arm, hoping that she could give even a little comfort. All she really knew of Olivia Montoya was from her virtual reality message, and from the haunting hotel room recording. “I- I wish I could have met her. She seemed so intelligent… brave.”

“She was. She was so determined. Whatever it took for her to get the future she wanted for us, she faced it. But she always found time for us. Just for us.”

“Like going on your lunch hikes?”

“Yes, like that. And when I was little, we used to walk along the beach and collect shells. We’d go swimming and look at the fishes; there would be tropical fishes in all colours. She showed me how to appreciate small things… beautiful things. Sometimes, it felt like the world was blowing up all around us; you need to find beauty in the little things when that’s your life. And she made it easy. Just being near her. She would sit and read on one side of the room, and I would sit on the other side. We didn’t have to say anything, I could just feel that she was there. After she was gone, I don’t remember being happy. Not until I met you.”

Taylor wrapped her arms around Estela’s waist and nuzzled her face against her neck. She suddenly started giggling.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Estela, my love, my soulmate, my heart’s desire, my dearest friend, my starlight… you stink of fish. Like, bad.”

Estela laughed and put her hands to Taylor’s face, pulling her in. She caught her mouth in her own, kissing her fiercely. Taylor’s hands travelled up Estela’s back and into her hair, holding her close as she reciprocated, the momentum pushing them down into the grass. After a moment, they both doubled over, collapsing into giggles.

“You’re not smelling like a basket of flowers yourself.”

“How about we finish this once we’re cleaned up a bit?”

Propping herself back up, Estela gazed over her wife, her cheeks hot. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart.” Taylor looked into those dark eyes, which were brimming with warmth, and felt herself melt. A promise like that? Not even a question.

“I’ll give these to Raj,” Taylor said happily, swinging the bucket of fish. “We are gonna be his absolute favourite people. At least until everyone’s sick of seafood.”

Estela gave her a quick kiss. “I hope so. He’s been on my back about the knives disappearing from the kitchen.”

“Yeah… I’m pretty sure there was a note pinned to the drawer. Something about ‘these knives are for cutting food, not people’. You may have been mentioned by name. In bold block capitals.”

“That’s our next job, then. Make some practical weaponry. We should get a hold of some of that amber the Vaanti use.”

“Sounds good. The cutlery is spared, and you can put your dagger-envy to rest. Everyone’s happy.” Taylor gave Estela a playful shove and headed inside.

Estela made to follow, but her eye was caught by a movement from the side of the hotel. It was Aleister. Her walls leapt up, her gaze hardened, and she turned away.

“Wait! I wanted to…” Aleister faltered, singed by the hostility that radiated off her. “I have something for you.” He wished he’d thought to just give what he’d found to Taylor, who was rather less the human equivalent of a bomb that could go off at any moment. “You needn’t think of it as a gift or anything sentimental. But it belongs to you.”

He thrust his hand forward, ignoring the clear mistrust in Estela’s eyes. She took from him several crumpled photographs.

Estela’s mouth dropped open. Her eyes grew wide, then scrunched tight shut, wet with tears before she could properly comprehend what she held in her hand. She turned herself away from Aleister and messily wiped her eyes.

Mirroring her actions, Aleister awkwardly turned to the opposing side, completely at a loss for what to say. Dealing with emotions was not his strong point. Words of comfort, sympathy? Simply callous coming from him. “I, uh, that is my mother and I… and Grace… we found these in a hidden safe in the library,” he said finally, still avoiding eye contact.  “I had wondered… he said he’d truly loved your mother… perhaps something might have been kept.”

Her fingers running tenderly over a photograph; a small child, arm in a sling, walking hand in hand with her mother along a beach, a rough but almost pretty town in the backdrop, Estela could barely hear Aleister’s words.

“My mother,” he continued, “knew that he’d put away some items from her room. Obviously, somewhere private… hidden. It’s not much, but it seems he couldn’t bring himself to destroy everything.”

A flicker of rage licked through Estela’s heart, but it was extinguished by a bittersweet wave of aching sadness and love.

“It’s the fish… the smell; it’s making my eyes water,” Estela lied, sniffling still.

Aleister snickered appreciatively. “Given the sensitive nature of our exchange, I decided it best not to comment on the… aroma. I am glad that you are at least aware of it.”

“A small price for dinner. I hope you’re hungry.” Frowning, Estela looked down at the ground and then pointedly into Aleister’s face. Well, shit, better get this over with. “We almost died because of you. You were so stupid, so arrogant, you almost killed the only people who gave a damn about you- “

“-Can we not do this now?” Aleister scowled and rolled his eyes. It had been too much to expect to get through to someone so blinded by hate. Estela was just like their father… never satisfied… out of reach. It was small wonder he’d seen something in her that he never had in Aleister. “Is it really so difficult for you to let the past be the past for five minu-“

“No.” Estela’s gaze became steely, and Aleister was momentarily forced into silence. “No; listen.”

“To your well-prepared character assassination? I would rather not.”

“You put your trust in the wrong person. Even the best people…” she felt her voice waver as she thought of her mother, of Lila. “Even the best of us can trust the wrong person… the worst person. In the end… you made your choice. You saved us. He… he told you he could bring your mother back to life. You were an idiot to believe it but… I understand. You’re a better man than Rourke ever was. And I can’t keep holding a grudge against you. I don’t want to.”

Aleister’s face registered surprise, but he quickly collected himself. “Uh, thank you. I know how personal this has been to you; how personal it has always been. You and I have been at odds so much of the time… but I would not have wished my father upon you. I’m sorry.”

Estela winced, her face clouded over. Her eyes flickered back to the photo. To her mother. The last person she imagined would keep her in the dark. Tears rolled down her cheeks and once again she had to look away. She felt a hand placed awkwardly on her shoulder, then hastily removed.

“Ah, I…” Aleister stammered. Where was Grace when he needed her? She’d have wrapped Estela in a hug and been done with it. Certainly, she could have done so without the fear of having her lights punched out. But yet Estela didn’t bristle at the bumbling attempt at physical contact. If anything, she looked… amused. “Is something funny?”

“You’re about as good at opening up as I am,” Estela said, smirking through her tears.

“A side effect of a life shaped by a treacherous snake,” Aleister said with a wry smile. He paused for a moment, trying to read her. “We have a certain kinship. A regrettable one, I’ll admit, but… I’m grateful to have it. He was never much of a father… my mother died when I was small… it has been lonely, I’ll admit. Perhaps, in time…?”

Estela’s mouth was dry. “…maybe we could have a couple of drinks, stew over how he screwed us both over?”

“That sounds appropriate. I don’t expect you to ever see me as family… kin… but…” Unsure, he held out his hand.

“Friends I could do.” With a deep breath, Estela grasped Aleister’s outstretched hand firmly. “I’ll leave the hugging to Taylor, though.” She glanced down to the precious photos held tightly in her other hand. “And, uh, thanks. Thank you… more than I can say.”

He gave her a nod of understanding, and they parted ways. Her photographs clutched to her chest, Estela realised she was trembling.

“Hey?” called Taylor, walking over, her brow furrowed in concern. “Hey, is everything all right?” She put her arm around Estela’s shoulder and inhaled sharply as she saw what was in her hand. “Wait- are those?”

Estela wiped her eyes and nuzzled close to Taylor. “Everything is… good. Uh, better than… uh…” Another deep breath. “It’s family… family stuff.” She put a hand to Taylor’s cheek and almost laughed at the stunned look on her face. “Let’s go up to the room, okay? We’ll get cleaned up and… I’ve got some things to share with you.”

[caiuscassiuss]

Crossfaded (Skater Boy AU! NCT Jaemin)

g o  v e r.

Genre: angst 

WC: 4.2k

Warnings: swearing, recreational drug use, alcoholism, death, casual thievery, dreamies are bad influences???

Description: You could only watch as your best friend spiraled down a black hole of self-neglect.

   The pump heels you mother forced you in made you extremely uncomfortable.    They were shining black, of course; it matched with your chiffon black dress and black coat.    Everyone dressed up for the dead body on display.    Melancholic organ music reverberated throughout the whole funeral home, and the muffled sounds of sobbing and crying occasionally interrupted the silence. The fluorescent lights shone just a little too brightly, the flowers, a bit too sepia, and faces, a bit too blurry.    You looked to the right and saw your best friend. His face was not a blurry mess of features that mouthed impersonal condolences, instead, it was a stony mask you knew he put on for the sake of his mother. From afar, no one could identify his emotions, but you, so attuned to his feelings over the many years you’ve had with him, could easily see he was this close to breaking down.    How could he not? After all, the dead body on display everyone dressed up in black for was his brother.    You patted his back and rested your hand there for a moment, trying to offer some sort of lingering support he could grasp onto while alone. You pushed your body to the pews next to your parents, who were staring concernedly at Jaemin's parents.    “I can’t imagine what it feels like, to lose a son. Especially in such circumstances…” your mother murmured while your father wrapped an arm around her shoulders.    You frowned and looked at Jaemin, finally settled down on a pew. He was hunched over with his forearms resting on his thighs, head down in deep thought. A bastardized version of the Thinker by Rodin, for all the wrong reasons. Jaemin, nowadays, seemed to always be in deep thought after he witnessed his brother drowning in the lake he so loved. You could never hold a proper conversation with him because he always murmured half-hearted replies that indicated his mind wasn’t all there at the moment. In fact, most of your interactions consisted of him crying into your shoulder.    It to see your best friend and crush of years hurting so badly and you wished desperately to fix whatever ached. You loved him for his bright and happy personality and everything in between. The tears in Jaemin’s eyes and the fine trembles in his hands put a physical pain on your heart.    You desperately wished Jaemin would be alright because if he wasn’t, you couldn’t.

   “Y/N! Look, you gotta come over to my house right now!” Jaemin spoke excitedly.    You stared at your phone in disbelief. Was the voice on the call really Na Jaemin, the boy who has been mourning his brother for the past few months? You haven’t heard him this excited in… forever.    “Of course! I’ll be over in 10!” you laughed confusedly as you pulled on a denim jacket and some sneakers.    As soon as you near his house, you could see Jaemin waving to you in the driveway, his neon orange sweatshirt a beacon in the early morning light. His eye bags were still present, as was his sallow and gaunt skin, but the gleam in his eyes was a recent addition. It contrasted greatly to the rest of his appearance.    “Yeah? I’m here?” you painted as you walked up to Jaemin. Man, you were out of shape.    “Look at this!” Jaemin exclaimed and pulled out… a skateboard?    You stared dumbly at the object; did Jaemin really make you sprint to his house so you could see a skateboard? Was the sudden turn in his demeanor all because of this painted, little, manufactured object?    Before you could respond, he set it down and sped down the driveway. Jaemin performed a neat little trick with you watching; he flipped the skateboard underneath his feet and hopped back on in a matter of a few seconds. You applauded, like any good friend would, but didn’t really get it until you looked into his face.    Jaemin’s face was something you thought would only be in the photo albums of the past. Childlike innocence blossomed on the apples of his cheeks, the wide grin on his lips, and in the look in his eyes. He was truly happy, the miserable shadow of his brother’s demise no longer lingering over his head.    A wide grin split your face at this revelation as you watched Jaemin perform a multitude of tricks for your viewing pleasure in the rising sunlight.

   “Y/N, meet my friends Jeno and Haechan! Guys, this is my best friend since birth, y/n,” Jaemin smiled shyly at you in the hallway of your high school.    You had heard of them.    Jeno and Haechan were part of a group of sorts that were generally known as… bad news, to say the least. There wasn’t a passing day where you didn’t hear their names not mentioned. You’ve seen their names spray-painted onto the walls of the school, or on the lockers of west hall. You’ve seen them running in the hallways, laughing crazily, and you’ve seen them rolling their eyes at a teacher trying to discipline them; you’ve seen them do everything they were not supposed to do.    “Hi!” you greeted, trying to give them the benefit of doubt. You gripped the strap of your bookbag a bit tighter and tapped your foot nervously into the linoleum tile beneath you.    “Hey.” They simultaneously greeted you, vaguely uninterested expressions on their faces. The pair of them leaned upon the neutral grey lockers, postures, indolent, screaming “I don’t really care and why am I here?”. Jeno’s intense eyes scanned the hallways distractedly, while Haechan pulled out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants, orange hair flopping this and that way.    “They’re my skating buddies,” Jaemin said as he turned his gaze towards you, “and I know you’ve heard… things about them, but they’re pretty chill, okay?” he pleaded with you. You were touched by his trust in you, but you could not shake off this foreboding feeling you had.    At the mention of “things”, Jeno and Haechan smirked at each other, obviously sharing some sort of inside joke. You observed the interaction dazedly.    “Well, we gotta go do something now. See ya Y/N!” Jaemin warmly said to you as his friends pushed off the lockers and went past you without acknowledgment.    “Bye,” you murmured as you watched them stroll away, their silhouettes highlighted by the blazing mid-day sun.

   The unanswered texts displayed on your phone seemed to take pleasure in your discomfort. That was silly, however, phones couldn’t feel things. They couldn’t comfort you, couldn’t laugh, couldn’t be vindictive. However, the way things were at the moment, you sort of wished you could body-swap with the piece of metal in your hands.    Jaemin hadn’t responded in weeks to your texts.    At first, it was just a casual blow off that you understood completely; he couldn’t spend all his time with you, after all. Jaemin needed the resources to heal, and even if you thought those resources were no-good miscreants, Jaemin seemed to be happier and less miserable. But then, his excuses became more frequent until it came to the point you hadn’t seen his visage in weeks.    You slowly walked through the courtyard of your school, leaves fluttering all around your body. You had just left your club meeting for the day, pathetically holding out for the chance Jaemin might want to go to the convenience store with you. Of course, luck decided to turn its attention somewhere else.    Your ears pick up muffled laughs from somewhere. It seemed to come from one of the hidden alcoves and you curiously wanted to find out what it was. You gripped your book bag tightly and crept forward and peeked over the corner to see what it was.    7 or so boys were occupying various positions of the alcove, some sitting on the floor or leaning on the wall. However, they were all obscured by the clouds of smoke that came out of the corner.    Suddenly the smell hit you hard and fast, invading your nostrils and creeping through your olfactory senses.    Weed.    You had never taken drugs or anything like that before, but the smell of weed quickly became familiar to you as it wafted out of the bathrooms or janitor’s closets. Like any typical high school, the halls of your school were infected by a drug problem; asking for drugs was as typical as asking a neighbor for a pencil or a piece of notebook paper. You never wanted to take drugs, even if they were cool and normalized because they had consequences that could overreach high school.    The smoke partly cleared and then you could see Mark, the athletic junior, smirking as he took a swig from a beer bottle. Haechan, his bright orange hair attracting your attention immediately, was snickering as he elbowed Mark with a blunt in his hand. If Mark and Haechan were there, that meant…    Jaemin’s stupid neon yellow Supreme beanie sat atop its owner’s mussed brown hair as he sat, crisscrossed, on the ground, skateboard lying next to him. That beanie was a gift from his cousin that you both laughed at, because: spending $40 dollars on a knit hat made in China? Utterly ridiculous. Jaemin seemed to wear it more and more nowadays, however, until it became his identifying mark. Something to fit into the skater culture, you guessed.    Your best friend snorted and lifted a joint up to his mouth, lit it, and exhaled the smoke. His eyes fluttered shut as the high surged up and seeped into his brain, while you were utterly horrified.

   Today was one of the rare days you convinced Jaemin to hang out with you and steal him away from the drugged up crew he ran with. You both were at the playground, kicking your legs back and forth on the swingset. His skateboard lay on the grass near the support for the set. The playground, even though you were high schoolers, had always been the place you two hung out the talk about school or life.    But today, your normal comfortable atmosphere was replaced with something tense and awkward. The only sounds heard was a squeak of the metals chains moving and the occasional bird call.    You looked over at Jaemin, who was looking off into the distance. His face was bit gaunt, but not as bad as during the time his brother had just died, but thin enough to make a difference, especially to you. The ring on his finger glittered in the afternoon sun.        You frowned and looked closer. You had never seen him wearing a ring, recalling that he hated jewelry on his hands and fingers because they were too bothersome. It was a fairly expensive looking ring and you remembered it on display at the local mall. But wait: Jaemin’s family couldn’t afford such expensive things after just having a funeral, which you knew had taken a pretty penny out of their bank accounts. And he had just been to the mall a few days ago…    “Hey, Jaemin where did you get that ring? I thought you didn’t like rings.”    He focused his attention on you and looked at the ring on his pointer finger. He shrugged.    “Change of mind, I guess. And, uh, a gift from a friend— that’s where I got it.”    “From who?” you prodded, careful to keep your tone light and innocent so he wouldn’t catch onto your intentions.    “Uh… Mark, I think?”    You fixed him with an unbelieving stare and raised an eyebrow. Jaemin rolled his eyes and held up his hands.    “Fine, fine, you caught me. I stole it from that store at the mall, okay? No big deal.”    “No big deal? That’s a misdemeanor, Jaemin. Illegal stuff.” You snorted.    “So what? Are you gonna report me to the fucking police? Or maybe even that stupid hotline the school set up—what was it called? Anonymous Admission?” Jaemin said sharply, a cynical undertone to his words.    “I… no, I would never, it’s just… be careful okay? You might get into trouble, like serious trouble,” you demur. You could never report your crush, as wrong as it is, but you had literally exposed every secret, innocent to dirty, to each other. It was his choice… right?    “Sure,” Jaemin sarcastically said and checked his phone, clearly unbelieving of your warning.

   “Jaemin? Can I change the music?”    He let out a grunt, eyes still focused on the road in front of him. Jaemin had, surprisingly, agreed to give you a ride home in his shitty Toyota Corolla that was older than both of you. Its seats were worn and tearing at the seams, while the windows still required a manual cranking of the pump for it to go up or down. Hell, it even required a radio antenna to be screwed in to get the local stations to play, but it had unfortunately gone missing so you were stuck with the cd player.    As soon as he had given you a go-ahead, you had clicked open the glove compartment in search of your favorite Fall Out Boy album, Folie A Deux A MASTERPIECE. While digging through his crappy screamo music that you hated, something soft and plastic-y touched your hands. You grasped onto it and pulled it out.    There, innocently grasped between your forefinger and thumb, was a bag of heroin. 3 by 7 inches, filled to the brim with white powder and sealed with some tape.    “Jaemin?”    “What?”    “What the actual fuck is this?” you drew out angrily.    Jaemin took his gaze momentarily off the windshield and looked at the object in your hands.    “Oh, it’s just my fix for the week. I thought you were asking about the new Black Veil album I just got.”    You sputtered a bit at his nonchalance.    “This is fucking heroin! Jaemin I was fine with weed and your vape but there has gotta be limits, dude, and this is not in them!”    He rolled his eyes, which he seemed to be doing a lot of nowadays towards you.    “Lay off it, will you? Stop being such a hardass; it isn’t an attractive look.”    It stung a bit, not going to lie, hearing your crush say you weren’t attractive. “Well, I’m about to be hella ugly right now! Jaemin this isn’t fucking okay!”    He kept silent.    “This is the last straw! I’ve had it with your drugs and stealing and alcohol! You need to fucking stop or I’m gonna tell your mom!”    His eyes darted towards you, an angry light in them.    “You wouldn’t dare!”    “Yes, I fucking would! I’m your goddamn best friend!”    “Shut the fuck up and just butt out okay?    “I won’t!”    “Fuck off, y/n! You’re nagging at me for everything little fucking thing I do! I just wanna have some goddamn fun! Can you stop being annoying for like 1 fucking second and just let me be? God, you’re so irritating!” Jaemin gritted his teeth and ran a hand through his brown hair.    You had frozen, every argument your head fleeing like it had been sucked out by a vacuum. His words gripped your heart and squeezed and squeezed until it felt like you were choking. Tears gathered at the edge of your eyes but you stayed silent and looked down on your lap.    A few tense seconds later, you slam forward as his car suddenly jerks to a halt.    “Get out and leave me the fuck alone,” Jaemin spoke, his message delivered frostily. The bite and serious intent in his tone meant Jaemin was dead serious.    “Fine,” you whisper, as you slam the crappy car door shut and sprint to your front door,  restrained tears finally being let loose.

   Life was a bit less stressful, you thought when Jaemin wasn’t in it.    You weren’t constantly worried about whether he had gotten high or got blackout drunk somewhere, or whether he had stolen something. You weren’t worried about whether he crashed his car or whether he got home safely.    Also, on the plus side, you didn’t have to deal with the heartache of unrequited love. The time away from him let you focus more…    Who were you kidding?    You were always worried about Jaemin slumped unconscious in an alleyway or if he got caught by the police. You always wondered if he got home safely and whether he completed his bio assignment because he was failing that class and he could really use an A. You wanted him to be at home and safe and warm.    You completely loved Jaemin and it hurt like hell.    It felt a bit silly at times. Who were to say you were in love? You were just a high school sophomore; and those rarely worked out. And even so, why did you have a crush on a guy who was never going to love you back and never wanted you to do so?    Why, indeed.    The TV in the background buzzed like static in the recesses of your mind, your movements growing repetitive and robotic as you went through the motions of slicing your fruits. Nowadays you were always distracted, whether it be in class or in your bedroom or on the bus. Jaemin was like a fucking itch that couldn’t be scratched no matter how hard you tried.    Heavy knocks pounded on your front door, resonating through your empty house like gunshots. Your heartbeat sped up as you set down the knife and wipe your hands on your jeans. You flicked the dim kitchen light off and silenced the TV, and padded silently down the hallway to your door. You tiptoe to reach the eye hole and you see a figure in a white jacket and black skinny jeans slumped on the wall next to the doorway.    “Jaemin?” you whisper in disbelief.    “Y/n!” Jaemin slurs as he pushed himself off the brick wall.    “I missed youuuu,” Jaemin grins, a big, toothy open-mouthed smile that you hadn’t seen forever. It was like a hole in a beaver dam because memories and feelings suddenly poured out uncontrollably. You remember splashing him with water in your front yard, and 5 years old him smiling gleefully as he got you back for your prank. Rollercoasters and pillow forts and cringy bedroom karaoke sessions all came rushing to the forefront of your conscious, almost drowning you in melancholic nostalgia, but you quickly shake it off.    “Um, let’s go inside okay?” you said, worried about the neighbors complaining about the suspicious activity happening in your doorway.    “Yay! Pillow fort time!” he exclaimed deliriously as you pull him in by his arm.    “Yeah, yeah, fort time,” you assure as you guide him towards the guest bedroom.    He mumbled several incoherent things as you slowly dragged him through your house, the tone of his speech turning more miserable the longer it went on. He no longer sounded high, so you knew for sure he was drunk.    His head lolled on your shoulder so his forehead rested on your shoulder.    “W-what am I doin’? I dunno anymore, I dunno…” he mumbled.    You could hear him clearly now, his speech no longer the garbled mess it was from far away.    “Pills... so bad, but I… I wan’ more and stealin’ is fun and all bu’ it-it wear s off…”    Your heart breaks hearing his inner conflict.    “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you soothe, patting his back and rubbing it.    “I wan’ it ta stop, I wan’ it ta stop” he repeated even as you took off his denim jacket and Chuck Taylors.    When you properly tuck him and turn off the lights, a whisper catches your attention.    “I wan’ y/n…” Jaemin mumbles against the pillowcase.

   Usually, you would hit snooze on your alarm on the weekends but today you made sure to get up bright and early and on time. You padded on down to the kitchen and quickly whip up a heavy breakfast for Jaemin, who was sure to be hungry and hungover as soon as he woke up. Balancing the tray with both hands, you quietly kick open the door to the guest room.    Tangled in the patchwork quilt was your best friend (Ex bff? Crush? Who knew.), snoring quietly, his face relaxed and relieved of stress.    “Jaemin? Jaemin!”    The boy sleepily gets up, rubbing his head and tussling up his messy brown hair even more.    “Morning,” you hesitantly say, to which he hums in greeting to.    You set down the food carefully and give him some aspirin pills, which he downs as soon as he gets it.    “Do… Do you wanna talk about it?” you ask while giving him the spoon and fork.    He snatches them from your hands and snarls, “I don’t need your fucking pity.”    CRASH!    Concern quickly morphs into rage as you fling the orange juice glass in your hands at the wall above the headboard. It shatters into a million glass shards, orange juice splattering on the wall and pulp flying everywhere. The pent-up rage and anger you held for his treatment of not only you but at himself surfaced like fireworks. You were angry at him for disregarding your feelings at him, angry that Jaemin was an outright bastard; angry that he didn’t care.    “It’s not fucking pity, look at you! You’re destroying yourself and I’m forced to watch from the sidelines, Jaemin! What happens if I do leave you alone, huh? Will I watch the news one day and see you get arrested for stealing? Will I wake up to your mother crying that you overdosed on heroin and died in a goddamn parking lot? What the fuck will happen, Jaemin, huh?” you scream, throat raw by the end of your tirade.    He stared wide-eyed at you, very much awake. The hangover was shaken off quickly after his near death experience with the destroyed glass cup, and soberness quickly shot through him like an injection. Jaemin processed the words robotically, piecing them together in his mind but they still wouldn’t make sense.    “You’re… you’re my fucking best friend, Jaemin. Yeah, I know I'm uncool and we don’t have the same interests anymore but… fuck, let me love you.”    Too flustered to even comprehend what you had just unknowingly admitted, you turned back sharply on your heel and fled. You slam the door to your room shut, while Jaemin does nothing.    Your wide eyes filled with tears and heartbreaking confession lingered in Jaemin’s painfully, like when you stared at the sun too long and the light lingered in your vision too long.    He never wanted to hurt you. He loved you too much, and even if he knew you were never going to reciprocate his feelings, he still wanted you to be safe and happy. He never meant to explode on you in his car that one afternoon; too many things built up, his brother’s death and drugs and grades pounding at his head like a power drill. When everything was said and done, Jaemin slowly processed his words and almost crashed his car, angry at his stupidity. But like the coward he was, he never came back to you, even if he saw you in the hallways eternally sad and all he wanted was to hug you but he never came.    Enough was enough.    Jaemin ripped off the quilt, looked at his disgusting clothes still permeated with the smell of weed and alcohol, and banged on your door.    “Y/n! Let me in!”    No response.    “Y/n!”    Dead silence.    Jaemin kicked the wall in anger (leaving a slight scuff on it) and ran his hands through his hair.    “You know what, fine! I’ll just make my fucking stand out here,” Jaemin shouted and slumped against the door.    “I’m… sorry, okay? I should’ve… should’ve never talked to you like that. Even if I was angry and mad…  I should’ve never told you were annoying. At the time I couldn’t was everything was just piling up on me, you know? It’s not an excuse, but it’s just why.”    “I honest to god love skateboarding; I didn’t feel my brother’s... you know, so harshly when I was doing I. But I quickly realized that I got involved in the wrong crowd when Jeno handed me my first blunt in an abandoned parking lot. You… you were right but I was too stubborn to admit and I just ended up getting too deep, and I thought, hell, I might as well enjoy it. I didn’t have to care anymore, so everything was alright and I could just have fun with Mark and Renjun and everybody. I didn’t want to let go and I just ended up pushing you away, the person… the person I loved most.”    It was silent for a few moments until he could hear your sniffling and muffled footsteps. He stood up quickly as the door creaked open and your eyes peeked out from the crack. Jaemin pushed open the door and took you in his arms as you let out some sobs in his shoulder. He rubbed your back softly, and conveyed through his body language he was supremely sorry.    “I’m glad you let me in,” he spoke after a few seconds of silence. “If you weren’t I was going to scale up your wall to your window.”    You laughed and he could feel your body shaking with your laughter.    “You… you’re going to stop, right?” you asked.    “Yeah.”

   “For you.”

[roraruu]

wip: union

trigger warning for suicide ideation

faye and tobin are not the one either wants. wip for an arranged marriage au.

Cold stony lips. That’s what he remembers when he thinks of their first kiss. She’s stiff and still, almost like the Mila Idols he’s seen across Valentia.

Their vows are said in sorry whispers, almost like they’re being sent to their deaths. Faye is taciturn and has to be reminded to speak hers. When she does, it’s painful and quiet, almost automatic as she repeats the words, “I take thee, to be thine wine and overfill the cup of life with love and happiness... from this day forward in our unified life.”

Love and happiness. In an arranged marriage to a woman he doesn’t know.

Well, it’s not exactly true or false—he’d caught her eyes a few times as a child while playing with his other friends. Once, he’d even caught her careless and lingering eyes at Ram’s wine festival, the one thing her family was known for. He remembers holding her gaze, brow furrowed and lips parted. For a moment, he’d thought she was going to speak to him, but quickly turned away.

So this lacklustre wedding is befit for them: a soldier chasing for a dream he can’t touch, and a village girl running from duty.

Her golden hair is tangled into waves and twisted into a braided crown with pink wildflowers; his military uniform, the only standing he has to compete with her higher class; and two somber frowns. Both silently praying at the altar for some sort of succour to this fate, but knowing that their Earth Mother is dead and divine intervention is far from their hands.

He thinks it’s just—she, a life married to someone other than her lost love, and he, married to a woman he can never have. Her hands are cold in his, held out before her for him to take like he’s receiving a gift. It’s not a happy, joyous occasion; it’s not blessed by the Gods like the sage proclaims, or sacred in the least. It’s a bastard union for a bastard couple.

When he’s told that he may kiss her, she stiffens, still staring him dead in the eyes. He knows he can’t be the man she so desperately wants, the one she lusts for so badly. In truth, he wants nothing more than to say their ceremony is done with and walk away with her. But instead he quickly closes the gap between them and kisses her. Her breath hitches, and he wonders if it’s her first kiss. Probably. She’s the daughter of a high-class family, with holy lineage nonetheless, Her hands tighten in his, and for both their sakes, he finishes it quickly.

Flowers are thrown, rice too. A smile creeps along his face for a brief second as he hears his youngest siblings howl with delight. But when he glances back to her, she’s blank-faced and staring at the ground. He moves her hand to his arm, accepting that she won’t give him the expected outcome—no happy smile, no rosy cheeks, no grasping kisses.

She’s curled into him, her thin arm fragile against his. He’s seen a few weddings before, but not many; he can’t aptly judge if theirs is a thing of beauty or just a thing. He can’t imagine it’s the prior—not with how stiff and lifeless she is. It’s not his place to order her to stand taller, smile wider, laugh heartily. But he can’t help but see his parents’ forced smile at them as they’re applauded.

The ceremony takes up most of the afternoon. Most of Ram Village attends, making it a grand affair. The day passes fairly quickly, but Tobin is still stuck on the thought of his lips against hers and that hitched breath. He’s to walk around with her, show off his pretty new wife that will take over the orchard and hopefully produce Ram Wine once again. That is, if the Mother’s blessing still runs within the land.

He’s seen the state of their orchard, how sad and desolate it looks. He didn’t have to see Mila’s carcass to know that the blessings of

The entire time leading up to their wedding she’s been visibly upset—her face constantly full of tears and pleading with her father to stop this union. But her tears are dry now and her eyes are simply empty of any strong emotion. She’s almost like a battle-dead witch he’d faced in battle. A husk, devoid of care or feeling.

She pulls at her wavy hair, absentmindedly flicking the wispy edges back as she continues to stare at the ground with blank fascination. The wildflowers that had been braided into her crown have begun to wither and wilt. She wears a white robe with gold and pink accents, something he remembers seeing her grandmother sew at diligently when he came over to sit at courtship. He’d sat in the large room with her grandmother working away at the arms of that robe, asking questions about his services and any plans with girlish giggles. As he went to speak about his posting at the Southern Outpost, he heard a door slam and saw Faye storming out with white knuckles and teary-eyes, screaming “I won’t marry him, Pa!” Along with threats to run away as she noticed him sitting with her grandmother. She held his gaze for a minute before leaving and swearing that she wouldn’t return.

He’d heard it all before: she’d run off to castle town and become a seamstress, she’d say her vows as a cleric in service to the Gods, a mercenary, a courtesan if she had to... Everything instead of marrying him. Most of all, to go back and see the commander, King Alm.

In the end, she didn’t win. And now she’s to be his dutiful wife, demure and pretty and devoted to him. But the entire village, even he—the clueless one—know that her affections are saved for one person and one alone.

——

He isn’t sure how long his and Faye’s mothers had been planning their union. Perhaps it came about before they were born, or maybe when he left with Gray and Kliff to serve King Alm. He’s not certain.

But he does remember his Mother’s delight when she said she’d married off two of his younger sisters to a woodsman and a smithy. They were both close in age to him. And he remembers her dauntless smile when she asked if he had found a suitable wife while on his tour of duty. When he painfully said no—although it was a lie, he had met a gorgeous Pegasus knight from blue blood during the war and she ended up running back to her manor with his best friend—his Mother simply patted his hand and smiled. Days later he was told of a possible wife.

Clear memories of that moment flood back to him. Shaky hands as he was told that the girl with a forced smile, thinking that he was coming over for an innocent visit, would be his future wife. How her face cracked from that thin smile into a horrible frown and immediate tears and then the wails and pleads that followed and were promptly hushed.

He can hear those same cries again. He sits in the tiny kitchen of the cottage that was gifted to them by her parents. The cottage is nearly empty, save for an old oak table, some stools and a hearth for cooking. The kitchen has large windows that face the coast of Zofia and the oceans that carry away to other continents.

He wasn’t shocked when they arrived home and Faye had promptly thrown her bouquet of flowers in the hallways and locked her in the bedroom they were to share. It was a heartbreak plain and simple.

Her heart was set on the prince he had been commanded by. When the war came he remembers her trying to enlist as anything they would have her as, but they refused her over and over.

He hears quiet footsteps and then the slam of a door, pulling him out of his sleepy stupor. Pink flower petals mark the floor, leading out the door. He glances out the kitchen window, seeing her white gown in the moonlight as she runs for the shoreline. He stumbles to get up, hurrying outside the cottage and into the tall reeds she passed through.

He sees her standing in the rocky beach, facing the oceans with certain defiance. Her hair whips with the cool night breeze, catching the drape-like sleeves of her robe. She takes a step off the rocks and into the wet sand as he catches up. “Faye,” he calls.

“Go away,” Her voice is sharp, barking in warning as she steps further into the water. The lapping waves lick at her ankles and calves. She takes a deep breath in, a caution to the wind. Her placid nature from their wedding is gone, and replaced with the same passionate fire he’d seen during their quick courtship. He takes a step forwards and she moves further into the water, the hem of her robe growing dark with water. “I said go away!”

“You’re really going to do it?” He asks quietly.

“Do you want to watch?” She asks bitterly, her head whips around and the once-pink flowers that peppered her hair fly out and fall against the grey rocks of the shoreline. There’s huge knots and tangles in her hair, her braided crown falling out. “Gods, why did my Mother pick you...”

He stays quiet as she stares out into the ocean. “I should ask the same thing.” He says. “You’re not the only one who didn’t want this.”

She breathes out a sigh. “Then how could you hold your tongue?” She asks. “You could’ve changed their minds. You carry more weight than me.”

“I couldn’t. I’m just as a victim in this as you are.”

“Really?” She asks her voice sour with contempt. “I don’t doubt that a knight’s word would make a change.”

“She didn’t love me back and I couldn’t change that.” He says simply, taking another step closer. His boots teeter awkwardly against the round and smooth rocks.

She seems to calm, shaking her head. “I don’t even know you,” She spits out angrily. Her voice is hoarse and she’s been crying. “How can you expect me to be your wife when I barely know you.”

“It’s Zofian tra—“

“I don’t care about tradition or duty!” She says in seething anger. “You’re not the man I want!”

“And do you think you’re the woman I want?”

She frowns before taking a step into the ocean, her robe darkening further.

“Stop!” He yells, lurching forwards to grab her shoulder and haul her back.

“Don’t touch me!” She screams, pulling away from him and scratching at his arm.

“I’ll give you a separation, if that’s what you want.” He says, sloshing in the sand with her. “I don’t want to be married to you either, but it’s what we are right now.”

“You wouldn’t give me a void, you’d lose my dowry!” She argues.

His face heats as he leaps down, splashing into the sandy earth and sloshes after her. “I don’t care about the money!” He argues. She lurches into the water, falling back. The waves beat against her shoulders, soaking the robe and her hair. He tries to offer a hand, but she moves back further, still threatening to drown herself as a wave almost swallows her whole.

“Of course you do.” She says. “That’s why they picked you! No one else would have me.”

“I don’t expect you to be my wife, and you shouldn’t expect me to be your husband.”

She takes a step further. “You seriously don’t?” She asks. Her face is lined with worry and confusion. “You don’t want someone to do your cleaning and make your food?”

“I can do both fine by myself.”

“How can I be assured you feel the same?” She asks.

“My word.” She looks unconvinced as he shrugs tiredly, turning back to the rocky shoreline. “Fine.”

He wrenches off the wedding band he’d put on a few hours earlier. His hand feels lighter without it’s weight. He holds it out to her. “There. I don’t want this anymore than you do.”

She takes the brass band from him, her furrowed brow still piercing through him. He walks back through the sand, steps up onto the rocky shoreline and moves back towards the cottage. He turns around, catching her with wide eyes and sitting in the water like a child. “Drown yourself if you want. Just know that I’ve been caught by these hazards too.” He says tiredly before walking back along the rocks and to their home.

[its-negans-lucille]

All I See - Part One

THIS IS A REUPLOAD

You can find my Masterlist here!

Prompt(s): Prompt One:  Hello there! I was hoping you could do the blind!reader x negan? Where she’s just arrived in Alexandria and Negan immediately takes an interest in her? Thanks and have a great day❤ -Via Anon

Prompt Two: Can I have a Negan x blind!reader? Where people tried to hide her from Negan but fails and Negan took an interest in her. Xx. – Via @thecatreadslemon

Ships: Negan x Blind!Reader, Minor Rick x Blind!Reader Words: 1,118 Warnings: Curses, mentions of claustrophobia Category: Fluff/Angst (?)

***

You were crouched in a small space which judging by the sound of dull drips was damp. Outside of this fresh hell you could hear two voices, Rick, the leader of Alexandria, and a new, unfamiliar tone. The words were muffled by the walls so that you couldn’t make out what they were talking about.

You reflected on how you had come to be in your current predicament. You had been minding your own business, walking down the streets of Alexandria with your handy stick, as you usually did. You could feel the sun’s heat on your face and the cool breeze on your neck. People called out to you, wished you a good morning and you had told them the same. Even Ms. Thurston hadn’t told you to ‘bugger off’ because you had accidently walked onto her magnolia’s (again). By all accounts, it was a good day.

That was, however, until you heard the rattling of gates from the entrance of Alexandria. You had heard people muttering, running footsteps and mothers telling their children to stay in their houses and to lock the door. The warm day had suddenly turned ice cold.

You were walking toward the source of the noise when Maggie had taken you by the arm and had led you into a house, you tripping all the way. You had dropped your stick with a dull thud as you were being pushed along. The whole time you were asking ‘what’s happening? What’s happening?’ but Maggie didn’t say anything until she had pushed you into the, presumed, cupboard you were currently in; she told you to keep quiet and to wait until she came to get you and not to leave under any circumstances.

And that’s what you’d done. You’d simply nodded as you felt the chill seep into your bones. Though you were blind you were still feeling claustrophobic as you hugged your middle, humming a quiet tune to yourself, wishing yourself to think of something other than the four walls that seemed to taunt you.

You heard a door slam, the abrupt sound jerking you back into reality.

“Holy shit!” You heard a male voice call jovially. “You have one helluva place here! Holy fuck!” The man continued. The footsteps were placed slightly apart, indicating two people currently traipsing the halls of the house. “Running, goddamned fucking water? Rick you are one lucky bastard.” The tone continued. “But what in great mother Mary’s breasts, is this stick doing here?” You heard a knock on wood at the imposter obviously tapped it on the floor. You let out a small gasp. The walking stick that you used, that you had dropped, had obviously been found.

“I don’t know.” Rick replied swiftly. You knew that he would now know that you were here.

Suddenly you heard a squeak from the corner of the confined space. You jumped in fright and collided with shelves behind you. All of the goods ricocheted and fell down onto the fall with an almighty crash.

There was silence, absolutely nothing. You stood and entertained the implausible hope that no one had heard.

“I guess we’re gonna find out.” The voice said in a low and masculine tone. You heard footsteps advancing towards the confined space that you were currently stuck in. You pushed your back against the now bare wall, nails cutting into your shirt, though you didn’t care. You held your breath.

The door opened with a soft click, you braced yourself for harsh hands to claw you out of the closet and to heinous things to you.

Though, no hands grabbed you, no disgusting words were tossed at you. There was simply nothing.

“What do we have here?” The voice said, the sound of a tapping foot emanated from the source.

“Negan-” Rick began but he was cut off as the voice -Negan- tutted lightly. “Darlin’, you can open your eyes y’know. No one’s gonna hurt you if you play your cards right.” Negan asked in a curious tone that surprised you, though you were still wary.

You opened your eyes slowly, though you still saw nothing. Only darkness. You heard a brief intake of breath, from who you couldn’t tell.

“C’mon out of there, doll.” Negan continued after a few seconds of silence where you had the distinct feeling of being x-rayed.

You didn’t move, unsure of what waited for you outside of the small space. Not being sure if you wanted to know.

“(Y/N), it’s okay.” You heard Rick add in a soft tone.

You nodded and tentatively stepped forward only to immediately slip on a tin can and almost look your footing if it weren’t for a strong hand on your upper arm.

“I’ve got you.” Negan said in a low voice.

As soon as you were on solid ground you took your arm out of his grip and allowed Rick to lead you toward the living room and only a soft, plush couch. You all sat there for a minute in silence, you fiddled with your fingers until Rick placed a hand over yours, steadying you. He squeezed, a silent reassurance.

“You’re … blind?” Negan asked, finally breaking the silence.

You nodded. “No prizes for guessing there.”

“How’ve you survived this long?” Negan continued. You heard footsteps pacing in front of you; back and forth they went in a constant motion.

“I’ve been at Alexandria from the beginning.” You said shortly, not wanting to divulge all information of your life to these men at this very moment. “Can I go?” You asked warily, discomfort flooding your veins, feeling helpless.

“Of course, doll.” Negan said, the pacing stopped.

“I’ll walk you home.” Rick said immediately as he stood up.

“I’m fine.” You replied, wishing to be alone as this had not been such a great day.

“Please.” Rick insisted, his tone imploring.

“Let the lady do what she wants, Rick.” Negan said in a stony tone. You were sure that he was looking at you, his gaze made you feel stripped naked, all of your thoughts and secrets that you held dear open for him to peruse at his will.

“Thank you.” You replied in a small voice. You stood up and after walking a few steps hit your leg on the coffee table. You cursed under your breath.

“I believe you’re forgetting something, darlin’.” Suddenly you felt a leather, clad hand take your palm in his had he pressed your stick, that had been laying haphazardly on the floor, into your hand. He held onto your palm for a fraction of a second longer than what was necessary. “Get home safely.” Negan whispered in your ear, making you shiver.

You simply nodded.

***

Thank you all so much for reading! And thank you both for the request! I hope it was alright that I included you both in said request! I really enjoyed writing this! Honestly it was so interesting and fun to write and I like this premise so much that I feel that if enough people wanted it I would make it into a multi-chapter thing!

There were minor rick x reader undertones too so that would be interesting to explore ;) Again! Only if people wanted it!!

Thank you again so much for reading and have a great day!

@negans-network