#i’ve heard some sort of murmurs surrounding the new doctors that come in and i want to SEEEEEE THEMMMM

[bnhayyy]

No Apology Enough

Summary: Ochako sought Bakugou out in the hospital to discuss their shared grief. She didn't expect guilt to make an appearance.

Wordcount: 2.8k

Notes: Contains spoilers for the war arc. Can be found on Ao3 here. If you like it, please consider commenting, sending an ask, or donating to my ko-fi!

She could not stop the rhythmic tap, tap, tap from resonating through the hospital no matter how softly she tried to step. The sound was all-consuming in its quietness, seeming to highlight the silence around it. That hospital itself was not quiet, of course. There was always something to be heard if you strained your ears: the distant beeping of a heart monitor, the squeaking of wheels as orderlies pushed their carts around, the quiet murmuring of doctors, the creaking of doors as they opened and closed, the distant crying of a patient as they encountered a new form of despair.

There was always something to be heard in a hospital. It might be quiet, but it was there. What was absent were the sounds that came with any sort of happy life. It was static, fragile, hopeless. It was the sort of simultaneous noise and silence that made gentle tapping of sneakers against linoleum—the sound of life and motion—stand out starkly.

Ochako didn't remember it being so bad while she was in the hospital, yet now that she was returning for a quick visit, it was suffocating.

The feeling intensified as she drew closer to a certain room. Ochako's pace began to slow without her realizing it, her eyes automatically drawn toward the door. It was plain, with a few papers attached to it. Such an inconspicuous thing, and yet beyond it, she knew—

Did she know? The receptionist had told her that he was still asleep, but the receptionist was only human. Fallible. But him, he was—the thought of him being stuck like that—

Maybe the receptionist was wrong. Or maybe they weren't, but he had only just woken up and they didn't know yet. Or maybe he hadn't, but would if she just went inside. Her presence hadn't changed anything, but maybe this time, if she just hoped a little harder or believed in him a little more, said the right thing or—

No.

Ochako blinked and found her arm outstretched, fingertips millimeters away from brushing the doorknob. When had she walked over to the door?

Her throat felt like it was being scraped by shards of glass as she took a step back. Then another. And another. Finally, she turned back around and continued down the hall. She picked up her pace and balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. There was nothing she could do to keep her eyes from watering, but she handled it by rapidly blinking. It felt like her eyes were mostly dry by the time she reached the door that heralded her destination. Good. This wasn't something she could walk into teary-eyed.

Where the other door had been wood with several papers attached to it, this one was a metal frame surrounding an unobscured pane of plexiglass. A little garden was on the other side. Most of it was composed of a verdant green lawn, but the edges were adorned with bushes, patches of flowers, and little statues of angels.

There was also a stone bench. And on that bench sat a familiar figure.

Ochako took a moment to blink any remaining moisture out of her eyes before pushing the door open.

"Bakugou?"

He shot a look over his shoulder at her call. The motion was quick, but stiff and strained in a way that made Ochako wince. All but a few small bandages had been removed from Bakugou's face, but she could see more under his collar, peeking up from the high-necked shirt he wore.

A pang of guilt echoed in Ochako's chest. She hadn't thought the hospital was too bad, but she hadn't been stuck in it for very long. Bakugou had been stuck for over a week now. He wasn't the only one, she remembered the sorry state Todoroki had been in the last time she'd seen him, yet the thought of someone as explosive and wild as Bakugou being left to waste away stung that much more keenly.

At least Deku doesn't know he... the thought fizzled out before it could finish.

"Round Face?" Bakugou asked. It was only then that she realized it had taken him an unusually long time to respond. Sure, maybe not by other people's standards, but for Bakugou Katsuki, a few seconds might as well be an hour.

It was as she was considering this that Bakugou narrowed his eyes. Ochako frowned and nearly took a step back; had he picked up on the concern that had stepped up to join the guilt? The last thing she wanted was to offend him with her worry.

Then again, a traitorous voice whispered, you didn't help rescue him from the villains because you didn't want to offend him.

Ochako hadn't hurt the odds by staying behind back then. She knew that. Her absence didn't make anything worse—it couldn't have. But it hadn't helped with anything either. She'd lived with that knowledge without it bothering her for months, but now...

"What are you doing here?" Bakugou pressed, his voice sparking with irritation. It was almost a relief. If he was able to get annoyed with her, at least this place hadn't completely crushed his spirit.

"The receptionist told me I could find you here," Ochako said. She felt an uncomfortable tightness in her fingers as she spoke. A quick glance down revealed that she had clasped her hands in front of herself and started wringing them at some point. She resisted the urge to grimace as she forced herself to drop them down to her side.

Bakugou scoffed. "Traitorous old bat," he grumbled. His gaze wandered behind her, as if he could glare at the old lady behind the visitation counter if only he strained hard enough. Or maybe he was looking for something else entirely. Someone else. He stayed that way for several heartbeats before his attention snapped back to Ochako, as if he had never looked away in the first place.

But he had looked. He had looked, and in doing so, the tension that was already hanging in the air had become that much heavier.

"Not that," Bakugou clarified.

"Then why did you call the receptionist a traitorous old bat?" Ochako asked, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could think to try and stop them. Perhaps it was better that she didn't. Anything to loosen the invisible noose that hung around both their necks.

"Because she is!" Bakugou cried. He threw a hand up to run it through his hair. It only got about halfway through before a bandage wrapped around his palm seemed to get caught on a lock. He yanked the hand free with a growl and dropped it into his lap. His eyes followed it, causing him to turn away from Ochako in the process.

Ochako hesitated. There was nothing to do in this situation, it seemed, except hesitate. Unless...

She approached him slowly—carefully. As if he were a predator that would lash out if she misunderstood and did the wrong thing, or maybe a smaller animal, injured and cornered. Maybe he was a bit of both.

He didn't say anything as she sat down next to him. In return, she maintained the silence. She didn't know how long they sat without speaking. Then, in a voice that was neither rough nor fragile, but fractured all the same, he said, "I meant why are you with me and not Deku."

Ochako swallowed heavily. There it was, the billion-yen question. The one she had known was coming but didn't have an answer to. At least, not one that she could trust he would be alright with receiving.

She could just tell him a lie that would appeal to his ego. It would be the easier thing to do. She was almost certain it was what he would be happier with.

It wasn't what he needed, though. And after everything that had happened, everything their class had gone through, what they were still struggling with... the truth could sting even when it was supposed to be soft. It could insult and it could chafe. Yet as she thought about it, maybe there was a degree of respect in telling someone a difficult truth when a lie would be so much easier for everyone.

Bakugou deserved her respect, even if only in return for giving her his. Did he know, she wondered, the weight that held in her heart?

It wasn't just respect returned though. It couldn't be. They might not have been as close to each other as some of their classmates, but the fact remained...

"He isn't my only friend in the hospital," Ochako said.

Bakugou snorted, but didn't rebuff her remark. It was an admittedly low bar. It was enough. It gave her the will to push forward, her voice lowering ever so fractionally as she continued, "and... I know I'm not the only one struggling with it."

She didn't know how, yet despite the fact that he was looking down and away from her, if asked, Ochako would have sworn that she saw Bakugou's expression darken.

"I shouldn't," Bakugou said. The heavy tone of his voice made Ochako squirm, but before she could attempt to piece together a response, he continued, "I don't have the right."

That made her pause.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Bakugou's head twitched fractionally, like he was going to look at her, but his gaze ultimately remained on the ground. Ochako felt her hands twitch in agitated frustration.

"Caring about someone isn't something you have to earn, Bakugou," she said. "Especially not when they're hurt like this!"

"You don't get it!" Bakugou snapped. He finally looked up to reveal eyes that were growing red around the rims and a glare that managed to convey more despair than anger. "You have eyes, don't you! I've treated him like shit. And it used to be worse. Way fucking worse.”

His voice cut off with a strangled noise that sounded like it should be an expression of rage. She knew it wasn't. Not rage that was geared toward her or Deku, anyway.

“What do you mean?” Ochako tentatively asked.

Bakugou scoffed. "Isn't it obvious?"

He paused, all too clearly waiting for a response. When she failed to give him anything but silence and a soft, questioning gaze, he looked back down at his feet.

"Bakugou," Ochako pressed, her voice only just loud enough to reach him. "What do you mean by worse?"

Silence. His jaw flexed and relaxed several times. It was an odd sight to see on someone who was usually so quick to say whatever was on his mind. As the silence dragged on, nervous energy began to gather in her hands. She placed them in her lap and wove her fingers together in the hope that it might eliminate it. No such luck. Ochako stared blankly at them for a few seconds before looking back up at Bakugou. He was still staring at his feet, looking very much lost in his own mind.

Did I push too far?

The thought was accompanied by the feeling of her heart threatening to sink into her stomach. She bit her lower lip and tried to push the feeling down, only for it to intensify instead.

Just as Ochako moved to open her mouth, Bakugou began, "A lot of that shit isn't mine to say."

Ochako unclasped her hands and sat up a little straighter. Suddenly, that urge to move was nowhere to be found.

"But I gave Deku a lot of grief because he... because he wasn't as strong as me. Because I didn't want him to have the chance to get stronger than me." Bakugou looked up, and for a second, his gaze caught hers. That look managed to say what his voice didn't. It said, I was scared. And maybe he still was, because although he didn't look back down at the ground, he did break eye-contact before he continued. "Then, just before UA, I said something fucking unforgivable. And now he's like this."

Ochako's swallowed even though it felt like her throat was full of razors. "Whether it's forgivable or not... that's not for you to decide," she said.

"Only a moron would forgive something like that," Bakugou growled.

"Well, maybe you have to be a little bit of a moron to be a good person. And Deku's a very good person."

Bakugou's gaze twitched a little more to the side, a little further away from her line of sight. She thought she saw his eyes glisten.

"Have you talked to him about it?" she asked.

Bakugou took a deep, rasping breath. The sound of it almost made her wince. "A little," he said. "During the fight."

Ochako opened her mouth—and shut it immediately. A voice in her head nagged her to ask what had happened, but a subtle yet unwavering ache in her chest said that it wasn't any of her business. Whatever had happened, it clearly hadn't been enough to put his heart and mind at ease.

"You can always talk some about it together," she suggested. "After... after he wakes up."

The breath seemed to leave her chest as the words left her lips. Had that been the right thing to say? Already she felt herself tensing, prepared to argue in defense of optimism if Bakugou tried to assume the worst.

Instead, he let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. "Yeah," he murmured.

And that—the sheer exhaustion he radiated—was almost worse.

"Hey." Ochako's body moved without thinking. She reached out to press the palm of her hand against Bakugou's face, one pinky carefully pulled back. The warmth of his skin against hers was a jolt to her senses, but not as much as his eyes opening and latching onto hers, making her breath catch in her throat, just for a moment. Yet somehow, somehow, she managed to keep talking. "There's also something else you can do."

"Oh yeah?" His voice was challenging, a bit of that edge creeping back in, but he didn't pull away from her touch. Not yet. And that, more than anything, spoke volumes. It helped her to smile. Not because she was happy, but not because she was forcing it either. She smiled because he needed it. They both did.

"Yeah," she said. "You can try to get better. As a hero, but also as a friend, as a civilian... as a person." Something in Bakugou's expression faltered, but she carried on. "I know that Deku believes in you, and it sounds like he's seen you at your worst. So when he wakes up... let him see you at your best."

In the seconds that followed, neither of them spoke. There was no room for words in the lingering void left by the person that wasn't there. It was a weight that would haunt both of them until Izuku was a waking part of their lives once more. However, a few seconds could not last forever. Bakugou nodded, and she dropped her hand back into her lap.

"Yeah," Bakugou said. "I might do that." He paused for a heartbeat before chuckling, a grin that might have worried her at another time spreading across his face. Instead, she just felt relieved. "Sleeping dumbfuck will never see it coming. I'll make him piss himself in amazement!"

Ochako couldn't quite take his bold vulgarity at face value. There was still a whisper of something pained and hesitant behind his eyes. It was progress though—in more ways than one.

"I look forward to it," she said.

"You should." Bakugou stood up. It looked like it was meant to be a bold, sudden motion, but it struck her as stumbling and difficult. Unable to help herself, Ochako winced and began to extend a hand, only for him to wave her off. "If I can walk without crutches, I sure as hell can walk without someone holding my hand," he said.

Said. Not yelled. Said. Ochako allowed a hint of a smile to pull at her lips. "Alright."

"I'm gonna head back to my room before the nurses flip their shit," he added.

Ochako nodded. "Alright. I... think I'll stay here for a little while." She glanced around the little garden, with its bushes and flowers—an oasis of respite in a place of misery. "It's peaceful."

"It's boring as shit," Bakugou grumbled.

"Some of us like boring sometimes," Ochako shot back.

Bakugou snorted. "You have shit taste." With that, he hobbled over to the hospital door. He didn't look back at her as he called, "see you around, Round Face."

Then it was just her and the garden—which was just as well. She had a lot to think about.

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

Is That...?

Title: Is That...?

Pairing: Loki x Avenger!Reader

Requested?: Yes! @wolfiegal98​ I hope you like it love!

Word Count: 6,200 ish

Warnings: Cursing, fighting, mentions of past death

Summary: Loosely follows the plot of Thor Ragnarok. What will happen when the reader finds out that Loki has actually been alive for the past 4 years? Angst and Fluff.

Author's Note: I sincerely hope this makes sense 😂 I picture the reader to be a mutant in this, capable of controlling the air, water, and fire around her, but it's not really explained well because this was already like 6k. P.s., its not my GIF!

“Stephen?” you called curiously, not moving to get up in the slightest. In all honesty, it baffled you that after almost a year of studying under him that you still had nearly no ability to navigate the Sanctum, but it felt like there was little you could do to change that. As much as you enjoyed spending time with the good Doctor, you absolutely loathed trying to find anything in this maze of a building -- you'd figured out pretty quickly that it was much easier to simply yell for him rather than attempt to find anything yourself. 

“In the front.”

You yelped as the disembodied head of your mentor popped momentarily through one of his glowy, orange portals before disappearing again. 

Forget trying to find your way around this place, you’d never get used to that. 

Rolling your eyes, a wave of your hand produced a gust of wind that weightlessly lifted you from your seat and carried you to the front. 

"You know you don't have to scare the shit out of me every time I--"

Your complaint died in your throat before you managed to finish your thought. The wind that’d been carrying you died down immediately and your feet landed on the floor with a light thump. 

Standing near Stephen was a certain blond-haired Asgardian. He was holding an umbrella, and wearing what you could only imagine was an outfit meant to help him blend in with human beings -- as if that were possible. You blinked, brain taking only a split-second to process the sight in front of you before your face cracked into a huge smile. 

"Thor!" you greeted happily before launching yourself into the god's already open arms. Thor chuckled amusedly as he embraced you tightly. 

"Hello to you as well Lady Y/N," he grinned, flashing his thousand-watt smile down towards you. You grinned as you pulled yourself out of his arms, feeling thoroughly surprised and delighted. 

"Where have you been? It's been, what like 2 years?" you questioned breathlessly as you punched him squarely on the arm in playful irritation. He only grinned wider, body not moving an inch as you hit him. 

“Eh you know, here and there,” he shrugged. “Saved a couple of planets from destruction, things like that.”

“Still modest as ever I see,” you giggled. 

“Yes, and I see you’ve been working on things since I've left,” Thor complimented. “Your control is quite impressive.”

“That’s not all I can do either,” you teased smugly. Thor chuckled amicably, one brow raised in interest. It was true, working closely with Stephen for the past year had not only massively helped you learn how to use your powers, but had led you to actually discovering some you’d never known you had. 

"Anyways. Thor is here to locate his father," Stephen interjected. "I was just about to send him on his way."

Your brows immediately dipped into a frown, eyes raking over the men in hopes that their faces would yield some sort of explanation. Though Strange's face remained impassive, Thor's expression at once became more solemn. 

"Odin's here? Like on Earth?" you questioned curiously. Thor merely nodded, eyes casting downwards as if to purposely avoid your gaze. As your mind ran wild with the new information, you internally wondered what the Asgardian king could possibly be doing on Earth. Moreover, you didn't understand why his presence would cause Thor to require Stephen's help. Eyebrow raised in suspicion, you crossed your arms and urged the men with a silent look to explain further. 

"Yes, in a place called Norway apparently. It's kind of a long story," Thor drawled. "One with many more questions than answers I'm afraid. I should probably be going to fetch him now."

Stephan nodded waving his arms nonchalantly and opening a portal, but you remained still, wondering what it was that they both knew that you were missing. 

"And I suppose I'll be needing my brother back," he finished, looking towards Stephen expectantly. 

"Your what now?" you choked. 

"Oh yeah, right," Stephen hummed.

He waved his hands above his head and another portal opened. You heard screaming coming from above, and not a second later a man fell straight out onto the Sanctum's floor with an echoing thud. Your jaw dropped.

It couldn't be. 

"I have been falling for thirty minutes!" the man roared from the ground, fists clenched and posture rigid.  

If you weren't so thoroughly consumed by your complete confusion and the small, futile feelings of hope growing within your chest, you might've laughed at the familiar voice's indignant cry.

"Is that…" you managed to ask weakly, your body completely frozen as your brain worked in overdrive trying to make sense of what you were seeing. The man stood slowly to his feet as you vaguely heard Thor and Stephen talking next to you. It felt like all the breath in your body had been stolen from you, unable to believe the sight before you. 

It was him. 

Loki, the god of mischief, stood just a few feet from you, huffing and dusting himself off. 

Loki who'd been dead for the better part of 4 years. 

Loki. 

"I-- he -- but he's -- what," you spluttered helplessly. Loki's eyes flashed to your face as you spoke. A look of utter shock filtered through his blue-green irises as he caught sight of your frozen form, and his pale face rapidly lost what little color it'd had to begin with. You whimpered pathetically. It felt like your brain might actually be imploding from its inability to process what was happening right now. "You--"

"Darling," Loki breathed, raising his hands in front of him in surrender. You gaped, mouth hanging wide open. 

"Uhm yes, quick update Loki is alive," Thor announced with a quick clap of his hands. "And while I'm sure the two of you have much to discuss we really need to be--" 

"You-- asshole."

"Y/N--"

"You absolute FUCKING ASSHOLE," you screeched, body suddenly erupting into a kind of fury the likes of which you'd never experienced. "YOU LET EVERYONE -- LET ME -- THINK THAT YOU WERE DEAD FOR FOUR FUCKING YEARS, AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO SHOW UP HERE NOW?"

You could feel your powers surging to the surface, the unbridled rage practically begging to be set free as you crossed the large gap between your bodies in mere seconds. Too livid to even let your natural instincts take over, you simply begin pounding your fists against every available inch of the now-cowering god's body. 

"What in FUCKS name are you even doing here, you lying, evil piece of SHIT?" your fists pounded relentlessly against Loki, primal screams of pure anger ripping from your throat as you did. Eventually, you felt your body being pulled away, a giant pair of hands gripping your waist tightly. 

"Alright now, that's probably enough," Thor's booming chuckle broke through the rhythmic, deafening pounding of your racing heartbeat in your ears. He caged your body against his with seemingly very little effort, expression wholly amused at your reaction. 

You thrashed wildly against his hold, rage still searing through your every pore like a wave of molten hot lava. Your irses began to turn red and your fingertips sparked with little bursts of flame. Falling still for only a moment, your hands darted out, grasping one of Thor’s forearms tightly as your palms glowed with a brilliant, vibrant blue. Thor growled in pain as your heated skin gripped his flesh, arms instantly releasing you as he cradled his burnt limb gingerly. 

"Since when can you do that?" Thor demanded, looking very much like he was in shock. 

Smiling smugly, your hands became engulfed in flames and you turned your attention back to Loki. 

"Told you I'd learned some new tricks," you growled before lunging towards Loki. You only made it a half a step before an invisible force held you in place. 

“How many times do I have to tell you Y/N, no fire in the Sanctum!” Stephen scolded sternly before a flick of his hand sent you, Thor, and Loki straight through the portal. 

You landed with a soft thump and found yourself rolling across grass, any sight of the Sanctum completely gone. Groaning a little at the pain in your side from the way you'd fallen, your eyes roamed over the field with confusion. 

“You can come back when you’re done with your little tantrum,” Strange’s voice echoed in your head from afar. You huffed in disbelief as your surroundings became clear. 

He’d sent you to fucking Norway. 

“Y/N,” Loki called quietly. 

Residual anger bubbled up in your chest once more at the sound of his voice. You turned to find him standing a few yards away, hands raised in surrender once more and handsome features cautiously scanning your face. 

“I must explai--,”

“Loki.” Thor cut his brother off sharply, staring towards the cliff. Loki’s eyes travelled to meet his brother’s gaze, breath catching in his throat once he noted Odin’s seated form on a large rock near the coastline. Thor began to walk purposefully over to his father, but Loki's attention turned back to you. You huffed loudly as you stared furiously into his pleading eyes, your body not moving an inch. After a few moments of intense eye contact you cocked your head towards Odin, indicating that he should proceed. Loki nodded tensely in thanks before striding off to where his father and brother sat. 

Letting out a massive sigh, you ran your fingers through your hair once you were left standing alone. A tiny flash of guilt started to fill your tummy as you watched the men murmur amongst themselves. Deciding it was probably best to give them a little privacy, you turned away, awkwardly fiddling with the rings on your fingers as you waited for them to finish speaking. 

Your mind felt like it was practically buzzing with thoughts as you tried to process everything that'd just happened. Thor's abrupt reappearance, the fact that your mentor had basically banished you to Norway, the nagging question of why Odin was even on this planet, and of course there was the small detail of Loki being back from the dead. 

Again. 

Though you probably should've been trying to figure out what kind of otherworldly threat could've brought the Asgardian king down from his golden palace, you found the majority of your thoughts turning to his adoptive son. 

Along with Thor, you'd been tasked with escorting Loki back to Asgard after the battle of New York to ensure his unhindered return. Finding yourself wholly fascinated by the entirely new and exciting planet, you'd stayed for much longer than anyone thought you would. You were so interested, in fact, that you ended up staying on Asgard for almost a year. The team back in Stark Tower thought you were crazy for staying as long as you did. 

If they only knew how you'd been occupying your time in Asgard. They'd probably would've had you committed. 

You wound up spending large portions of your time with a certain prisoner -- a fact that you hid from everyone for a long time. At first it was simply to ensure that it was indeed still Loki within his cell and not another illusion, but over time it evolved into something else entirely. Something more. 

He started to help you learn about your powers, even showing you that you could do more than just manipulate the air. Together you explored your control over fire and water in small doses, and in turn, you became someone he could talk to -- to pass the time with. The more you learned about Asgardian culture the more time you spent down with Loki, talking about anything and everything you could think of. It wasn’t long before you found yourself harboring a secret crush on the exiled prince, slowly but surely learning to trust him and him you. You were never truly sure if he felt the same -- true he referred to you as his "darling" or "pet" more than your own name, but you could never be sure he wasn't tricking you. As time passed you fell more deeply in love with the god, and you questioned his affections less and less. The two of you never discussed your relationship aloud, but something deep in his eyes told you he just might return your feelings.

You stayed in Asgard so long that you were still around when Jane became possessed by the Aether. You and Thor worked together to free Loki from his cell, and later you wound up on Svartalfheim in an attempt to save Jane’s life. 

You’d fought alongside them, and watched helplessly as Loki died right before your eyes. For all he taught you in the past months, your skills were just too weak still to stop the chaos that was raging around you.

 You weren’t strong enough to keep him safe. 

You’d clutched his hand as he groaned in pain, the cascade of tears falling from your eyes blurring the horrific sight. Even so, the image of his motionless, frail body lying on the ground had been burned into your memory ever since. 

You returned back to Earth immediately after that, all interest in Asgard gone. You’d spent the last few years trying futilely to distract yourself by working with the Avengers, which eventually led to you studying under Dr. Strange. You trained everyday, fighting to gain some semblance of control over your abilities and determined to never let anything like what happened in Svartalfheim happen again.

Your head began to ache from the seemingly constant torrent of questions flowing through your brain. How had he survived? Why had he tricked everyone into thinking he was dead? Where had he been all this time? And most importantly, why hadn’t he come to see you? 

A pang of rejection ripped through your chest as your brain fought to reconcile Loki’s actions with the sweet, caring man you came to know on Asgard. Surely you must have been mistaken-- a silly girl falling for the handsome god's tricks like a fool. No one who cared for you would leave you like that. 

The low, rumbling sounds of thunder booming overhead brought you out of your thoughts. You were on your feet in an instant, body tensing and eyes flashing over to the brothers. A fleeting rush of confusion washed over you as you noted Odin’s absence, but you weren't given much time to think about it. 

Thor and Loki stomped towards you with their gazes trained on something behind you. A bolt of lightning and a flash of green enveloping them respectively, the two of them simultaneously donned their battle gear. You rolled your eyes. 

"So dramatic," you mumbled to yourself as you turned to face whatever it was they were heading towards. 

-----------------------------------

"YOU TINY AVENGER!"

Your head snapped up instantly, body tensing as you were abruptly ripped out of your sleep by Hulk's roar. You groaned, rolling to your side and thrusting your sweaty face deeper into your pillow. Sleep had never come easy to you, and even though your dreams for the past 2 weeks had all been the same gut-wrenching memory, that didn't make your abrupt wake up call any more welcome. 

You'd found Bru-Hulk almost immediately after arriving on Sakaar, seeing as the bifrost had spit you out straight into the colosseum in the middle of one of his death matches. You, having very little knowledge of how the bifrost mechanics worked, had absolutely no clue where you were. 

To say you'd been confused was the understatement of the millennium. 

Disoriented and probably concussed from your not-so-graceful entrance, you weren't left with much time to acclimate yourself from your surroundings before two guards had tackled you to the ground and stuck some kind of taser in your neck. Terrified, you'd tried to fight back, but you were too weak; one press of button later and you were incapacitated in an instant.The pain that seared through you from that wretched torture machine left you unable to do anything other than writhe helplessly in the dirt. Your screams of utter agony were enough to finally pull Hulk's attention away from his fight. He'd gone into a rage as soon as he realized it was you, turning on the guards instantly. 

It'd been 2 weeks since then, and with no signs of either Thor or Loki you'd essentially turned into the Hulk's personal babysitter. Apparently he was too big to be fit with one of those taser-disc things and his tantrum didn't end after he'd dismembered those guards. Evidently Hulk had thrown a fit -- in the way only he really could-- and wouldn't stop until some man called the 'Grandmaster' allowed you to stay with him. In exchange for your new home, you'd been tasked with calming him down whenever necessary.

Which, you'd quickly learned, was pretty much a 24/7 job.

Grumbling and cursing under your breath, you flung your legs out of bed and stomped into the next room in a huff. You were fully prepared to give Hulk a piece of your mind, but the sight of another person in his massive room was enough to stop you dead in your tracks. Sitting next to Hulk on the steps that led up to his massive bed was a figure that made your stomach flutter with hope. Unsure and not trusting your eyes, you spoke up as you cautiously approached the pair. 

“Thor?”

He turned his head at your call, a look of utter shock taking over his features as he recognized you. 

"Y/N!"

He jumped to his feet, making quick work of the small space that separated the two of you and immediately pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. 

"I can't believe you're here, I was so worried when I saw that she-beast knock you out of the bifrost, you have no idea," he breathed, face buried deep into your neck. You could only squeak in reply. His arms were wrapped so tightly around you that speaking wasn't exactly possible.

"Thor," you wheezed. "Can't...breathe."

Thor let you go instantly, sending you a sheepish expression as you coughed and tried to catch your breath. You doubled over and put your hands on your knees as you fought to regulate your breathing. Thor apologized, clapping a hand on your back in an awkward attempt at comfort. After a moment or two you straightened up a little bit and opened your mouth to dismiss his apologies, but Hulk beat you to the punch. 

Literally. 

A single swing from him was all it took to send Thor careening into the far wall. He crashed into the structure so hard that you felt the floor rattle beneath you, before falling into a heap surrounded by chunks of the crumbling plaster. Your jaw dropped. 

"THOR NO HURT FRIEND," Hulk roared, stepping in front of you protectively. You quickly sidestepped his giant frame and ran to Thor before crouching down. 

"Hulk no," you scolded. "He wasn't hurting me on purpose, he was just surprised! Are you okay Thor?"

"Perfectly fine," he groaned, standing quickly while swiping some of the remaining wall debris from his shoulders and stretching out his neck. "Unfortunately that's not the first time he's done that today."

"Hrrmph," Hulk pouted, stomping his foot. "Thor no hurt friend."

"It's okay buddy, I'm okay," you soothed, hand rubbing small circles on one of his massive arms. 

"Yes, well," Thor grumbled, clearly miffed that your attention and sympathy had been stolen from him so quickly. "Regardless, Y/N we have to get back to Asgard as soon as possible. Hela will destroy everything if we don't stop her."

You nodded tensely. A shiver ran its course down the entire length of your spine at the mention of his demonic sister. 

"Obviously, but I have absolutely no idea how we're gonna do that," you replied solemnly, crossing your arms. "My knowledge of inter-world travel begins and ends with the bifrost, and since I'm assuming that's out I have absolutely no suggestions."

Thor grinned. 

-----------------------------------

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever been a part of,” you mumbled to yourself as you fiddled around with the controls of the ship that Valkyrie told you to get. You'd been sitting in the cockpit for an insane amount of time waiting for Thor. You'd gotten separated from him and Bruce in the massive parade after the whole Quinjet fiasco, but thankfully Valkyrie had found you later and given you the rundown of their plan. 

A plan which seemed questionable at best, seeing as you'd been waiting for the past hour for a certain blond-haired god to show up. 

Huffing in irritation, you poised your fingers above the controls and started the massive engines. You were about to fly off in search of your moron friends when you heard a commotion down below. 

"Get help please!" 

Your brows furrowed in confusion at the sound of the familiar voice’s cry. 

"Thor?" you questioned to yourself quietly, heart rate picking up speed as you anxiously darted off the ship. "Thor? Is that you, what's happening?"

"Ahhh Y/N!" he grinned widely as you approached. "Perfect timing, I see Valkyrie has given us the same task."

You rolled your eyes.

"Actually I've been here a while now, what took you so lo--," you cut yourself off as you noticed Loki sprawled out on the ground behind Thor, paralyzed as one of the obedience disks tased him constantly. "Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me."

Thor followed your gaze to his brother curiously, as if he'd forgotten he was even there. 

"Ah, yes. I found out Loki is also here. Surprise?" he ventured chuckling. "However since he seems to only wish to do us harm, I've elected to leave him here." 

You glanced down, a pang of guilt striking you deep in your stomach at the look of pure agony etched across Loki's handsome features. You'd be lying if you didn't also feel a little bit smug at his evident discomfort, but even with all the pain he'd put you through you couldn't help but feel a tiny twinge of sympathy. His eyes locked onto your face, the blue-green orbs teaming with shock and a glimmer of an emotion you couldn’t quite place. He rolled his head desperately towards your frozen body as a wave of deja vu overcame your already overloaded mind. You stared deeply into his pain-ravaged expression, a single thought piercing through your chest as you studied his eyes. 

He hadn't known you were here. 

"At any rate, I imagine now would be as good a time as any to take our leave," Thor interrupted your mental musings. "Which was the ship she told us to get?"

You numbly pointed to the ship behind you, unable to tear your eyes away from the face of the man you'd thought dead for the second time in less than a month. Thor looked between you and his adoptive brother thoughtfully for a beat before comfortingly clapping a massive hand on your shoulder. The kind gesture was enough to snap you out of the daze you'd been in, and you shook your head to try and clear the tyranny of thoughts rumbling around in your brain. 

You began walking robotically towards the ship, but Thor's hand gripped your shoulder harder, forcing you to stop. You looked up at him with a questioning glance, confused. 

"I know we aren't exactly the closest of friends," he started, awkwardly clearing his throat. "But, as someone who's a bit too familiar with loss, I think some closure is in order here, hmm?"

You opened your mouth, eager to refute the insinuation, but Thor raised his hand to stop you before the words could come out. 

“I’ve seen the way you two look at one another. Please, for your sake, say your piece now because it's the last chance you may ever get.”

Your mouth clamped shut. Swallowing thickly, your eyes darted from Thor's stern yet compassionate face to Loki's paralyzed form and back. You nodded once. 

Thor smiled softly at the two of you, rubbing a small circle against your shoulder with his hand before jogging away. You took a deep breath and crouched down beside Loki's still twitching body. 

"There's so much to say," you started, looking off into the distance. You knew the moment you looked at him that it’d all be over, and so you stubbornly turned your face away from him and fixed your gaze on the far wall. "I honestly don't even know where to begin. Mostly I have a lot of questions. How could you forget me so easily? Why would you just let me think that you were dead? D-did you ever care about me?"

Though his body was still completely immobilized, Loki's eyes were locked onto your face with rapt attention as you spoke. With each pained word and crack in your voice a sharp pain like a knife stabbed through his heart and drove itself deeper and deeper. 

"Even if you could answer I doubt it'd mean anything," you continued, swiping a lone tear from your cheek. "I spent 4 years thinking you were gone. 4 years of grief and misery that I thought would be the worst pain I'd ever feel. But I was wrong -- knowing now that you were out there all that time, and that you didn't care enough about me to stick around? That's the worst kind of pain. The gnawing, hollowing ache of knowing that you love someone who's never going to love you back."

His eyes had never been wider as you paused briefly and let out a sob. Tears slipped down his cheeks in a mirror image of yours, and his body began twisting, desperately trying to get closer to you. You couldn’t see, but his fingers were twitching and clawing at the ground in a futile effort to connect his skin to yours. You sniffled and wiped your nose as you shakily stood to your feet, completely oblivious to his desperation. You started to walk back to the ship, pausing only for a moment to turn and make one last statement. 

"I'm not going to wait, and I'm not going to wonder why anymore. Because the truth of it is, I'm just a stupid girl who fell in love with a liar. And I know I’m always going to love you, but I refuse to let you define me any longer." 

-----------------------------------

You grunted in pain as the sword of one of the many undead Asgardian warriors sliced through your arm. Scoffing, you thrust your flaming fist straight into its stupid, skeletal face and sent it flying off of the bridge. Gently touching your fingertips to your bicep and grimacing when you pulled them back bloody, you turned to face Heimdal. 

“There’s too many of them,” you cried, conjuring a gust of wind that knocked a group of the soldiers flying into the water below. Heimdal didn’t answer, too busy fighting to keep some distance between the Asgardian crowd and the army. Wiping a bloody hand across your forehead, you noticed the soldiers that you’d knocked into the water starting to claw their way back up into the fray. Groaning, you closed your eyes and concentrated until the water below became wild. The waves began thrashing around furiously, the tallest one knocking the skeletal bodies back down into the storm below. 

Exhausted, you fell to your knees. You weren’t used to using your powers on this kind of scale, and you hardly ever exercised your control over water. Much preferring to use fire or wind, you'd never tried to manipulate an amount of water so large before. Stars danced in front of your eyes and you felt weaker than you had in years. The thudding vibrations of running boots and the clanging of swords filled your ears as you panted, and for a moment you lost all hope.

Until a firm, yet gentle hand placed itself under your chin, forcing you to look up. 

"Now, now sweetling," a low voice practically purred in your ear, and you felt yourself being lifted up from the ground. "This is no place to rest." 

You looked up to find the blueish-greenish eyes that'd haunted your dreams for the past 5 years staring down at you. 

Loki. 

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight, a shiver running through your entire body at the sensation of being in his arms. The way his eyes bored into yours, it felt like you couldn't move, couldn't even breathe. You were locked into place, utterly mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze. He raised a hand, fingers hesitating for only a split second before they nimbly swept a piece of your hair off of your face. You couldn't help but lean your face into his palm that rested on your cheek, allowing yourself to forget everything else that wasn't the feel of his skin on yours for just a moment. 

But only for a moment. 

You were abruptly brought back down to earth-- or rather Asgard you supposed-- with a sensation like an earthquake vibrating upwards from your boots and the low-rumbling sound of thunder filling your ears. You straightened up in just enough time to see Thor launch himself into the fray, massive surges of lightning engulfing him. You grinned, the sight of your blonde friend looking more god-like than he had in weeks caused a surge of energy to roll through your body like one of his bolts of electricity. Suddenly re-energized and ready to fight alongside your blonde companion, you hopped to your feet. Sending Loki one last determined look, you ran head first into the battle, fists ablaze. 

Savagely ripping through soldier after soldier, your red eyes were focused completely on the fight all around you. You almost didn't hear Loki as he yelled over the din of the battle.  

"I did it for you, you know," he grunted as he too slashed through the seemingly never-ending torrent of Hela's army. "Staying away. It was what I thought was best."

"Seriously? We're going to do this now?" came your incredulous reply, reducing two of the soldiers into balls of flame before gaping at Loki. He kicked another off of the bridge before shrugging. 

"The last two times haven't exactly been ideal either."

Humming angrily, you turned away from him and continued your attack, intent on blocking him out. Loki clearly had other plans, inching his way forward until the two of you were practically back to back as you fought. 

"I was a war criminal, a prisoner and helping that mortal wasn't going to change anything. What sort of life was I to offer you had I stayed?" he reasoned before turning you forcibly around to face him. 

Despite the fight still raging all around you, you paused and looked at the god in front of you. You were staring each other down, your glare meeting his distressed and pleading gaze as if the two of you were the only ones in the world. 

"You expect me to believe that? That you lied to me, that you left me because you cared?" you spit out, hot tears spilling from your eyes as you spoke. Expression crumbling, Loki reached out and tried to connect your hands, but you jerked yours away before he could, your palm instantly erupting into flames. 

"You deserved better than that, better than me. You still do," he murmured. "I destroy everything, everyone around me. I couldn't bear the thought of bringing another person I care for so dearly down with me." 

You tried with every fiber of your being not to let him get to you. You reminded yourself of all the pain and misery he'd caused you -- futilely dredging up memories of all the nights you'd spent crying yourself to sleep. You squeezed your eyes shut as if not seeing his face would make it easier to resist. Your hands slowly started to extinguish as they shook, your anger fading to sadness that rolled into a tight ball in your chest that felt like it was going to suffocate you. 

"I ca-can't...you--," you blubbered incoherently. "I can't do this now." 

You turned away once more, but this time Loki stopped you by grabbing your hand desperately. The icy temperature of his skin caused what little flame was left behind to fizzle out with a small cloud of smoke. You gasped at the feeling, but didn't make any moves to remove your hand from his. 

"You asked how I could forget about you so easily, and the answer is really quite simple: I didn't," he continued breathlessly. "I couldn't. You filled my mind each and every day that we were apart, and it was only the thought of you that made the days bearable. I checked on you, often. I needed to know that you were doing alright, needed to prove myself right-- that you were, and will always be, better off without me. I know I’ve given you absolutely no reason to believe me, but if you come away from this embarrassingly honest conversation knowing only one thing, I need it to be this: I do love you, my dearest Y/N. I love you more than I can rightly express aloud, and I’ll spend the rest of my miserable existance ensuring that you never question that again if you’ll allow me. ” 

You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you at his admission, and the hand that wasn’t currently entwined firmly within his flew to cover your mouth. As soon as the words left his lips you felt all of your anger, all your stubborn resolve vanish from your chest in an instant, the feelings quickly replaced by a wave of love the likes of which you’d never felt before. A choked sob left you as you searched his face frantically, looking for any twinkle of mischief or the slightest indication that he could be lying. 

His expression was firm, mouth drawn in a sort of dazed smile as he gazed down at you, lovingly. Brows raised and forehead adorably wrinkled with anxiety, he waited patiently for you to respond. You searched his eyes with your own, almost getting lost in the sea of emotion that ran through them and idly wondered if yours looked the same. He looked so hopeful, so sincere, and you felt the warm feelings of your chest expand and grow at an incredible rate. 

“Y-you...you love me?” you managed to murmur, gaze still locked firmly on his face as you worked intently to memorize his features. His lips quirked into what was quite possibly the most beautiful and honest smile you’d ever seen, and his hand gently lifted to your face. Rubbing soft circles into your cheek with the pad of his thumb, he answered so quietly you almost missed it. 

“More than I ever thought possible.”

Unable to physically stand the distance between you for another second, you carelessly crashed your body into his. Arms winding their way around his shoulders to anchor themselves, you connected your mouth to his, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He responded just as quickly, both hands now cupping your face as his smooth lips worked fervently over yours. The two of you were pressed together so tightly it was almost painful, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on anything outside of the feeling of his kiss. After wondering for so long, the feeling of his skin on yours was indescribable. Your fingers threaded through his dark, curly locks as you struggled to pull him impossibly closer to you, and you shivered in pleasure at the low growl your actions seemed to pull from his throat. 

After an indefinite, but altogether too brief length of time, you were forced to pull away from him -- panting and working intently to catch your breath, you settled for leaning your forehead against his as he did the same. For all the time you’d spent manipulating the wind to carry you around, you swore you’d never felt more weightless than you did in this moment. You couldn’t erase the dopey smile that you were sure was stretched across your face right now, but you didn’t care. Especially once you opened your eyes to find the same, love-struck grin plastered across Loki’s handsome features. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that,” he chuckled breathlessly. His voice was lower than you’d ever heard, and he sounded so uncharacteristically shy that you couldn’t help but lift yourself on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

“Not sure if it really needs saying at this point, but I love y--,” 

“Oi, lovebirds!,” Valkyrie interrupted, shouting from across the bridge. “If it pleases the two of you, perhaps you could come help now?”

Loki cleared his throat, a pink tinge dusting across his cheeks as he noticed his brother and Valkyrie looking at the pair of you with teasing expressions. You couldn’t help but giggle at his evident embarrassment, gazing adoringly at his reddened-features for a split second. Threading your fingers through his confidently, you tugged him along and the two of you left to join your group for what you hoped would be the final battle. 

[jemmahazelnut]

Motorcycle flight -Chapter five

Summary: Laxus is a biker, and as soon as he discovers that in the city there’s a motorcycle track for enthusiasts where races are organized every month, he decides to go. As soon as he arrives, he will fall in love with that wonderful place, and will meet the handsome green-haired owner. [Freed/Laxus]

Link: AO3

Here you can find Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four.

There’s a sex scene. No smut. I don't even know why I'm warning you, it's really nothing explicit, not even a little bit, but I think it's right to do it. Enjoy the reading :)

The new track

Laxus had never felt so nervous. He had never witnessed an accident in the first person, and seeing Freed jump off his motorbike had been a terrifying scene, one that kept repeating itself in his mind intermittently. Afterwards it was all confused, he remembered falling off the bike, probably scratched because he was right behind Freed but he managed to swerve in time. He remembered Lucy's screams and ambulance sirens, but he didn't remember exactly how he got to the hospital. He certainly hadn't gotten there alone.

He only knew that at the moment he was sitting in the emergency room with Lucy and Natsu beside him. The girl was white in the face and she didn't say a word, while the boy kept pacing nervously back and forth to release the tension.

“Lucy, what happened?”

Laxus heard the voice and looked up not recognizing who he was. When he saw the woman, he realized that he had never actually seen her.

“An accident, we... we don't know anything yet,” the blonde replied. Laxus realized there was also a man and Brandish. Only then did he realize that the two must be Freed's parents. Of course they were there. Still the images of the accident didn’t make him think well. He shifted his gaze to Brandish, who just nodded to him. The girl then crossed her arms, if she was nervous, she wouldn't show it.

“How did it happen?” the woman always asked. Lucy tried to explain, and Laxus was forced to get up so as not to listen to everything again. He walked towards Natsu, and the boy glanced at Freed's parents but didn't say a word to them.

“Why does it take so long?” asked Natsu. Laxus didn't answer, not knowing what to tell him. At that point, however, as if someone had heard the question, the door opened and a doctor came out. Everyone immediately surrounded him waiting for news.

“The boy is fine, he was lucky,” he told them. Laxus let out a sigh of relief as he felt his nervousness disappear. Lucy murmured 'Thank God' and Freed's mother stepped forward.

“I want to see my son,” she said. The doctor nodded and just told them not to go in all at once, because the room was small and the boy needed a rest. Laxus wanted to jump into it but Freed's parents were faster and he didn't feel like getting in the way. So, the two adults entered with Brandish and he found himself again waiting with Natsu and Lucy. At least he wasn't nervous anymore because he knew Freed was fine. Although he would’ve preferred to see him with his own eyes.

“We should be in there,” Natsu growled.

“Calm down” said Lucy “Freed’s fine, that's the important thing.”

“Yes, but I'm sure he doesn't even want to see them,” Natsu retorted. Laxus agreed with him, they were probably the last people Freed wanted to see.

“They won't be in there long,” Lucy said with a sigh. “So don't worry, we'll see him soon.”

“Sure,” Natsu growled. Laxus sat down and leaned his head against the wall, letting his anxiety subside at least a little, just hoping to be able to see and hug the boy soon.

***

When the door opened, he was surprised to see his parents. Freed was going to start telling them about everything but when he saw Brandish he calmed down slightly. Although his relationship with his cousin wasn’t the best, she was the only one in the family with whom he could speak in a civilized way.

“How are you?” his mother asked immediately. Freed glanced at the arm in plaster. He also had pain in his leg, but luckily the clothes had protected him enough and, in the end, he got away with a few scratches and a few blows, except for the broken arm.

“Fine,” he just said avoiding his father's gaze and focusing instead on his cousin, hoping she would understand and take his parents away from there. “The others? Laxus, Natsu and Lucy?” he asked, despite a nurse having already told him that he was the only one to have been hit by the car.

“They’re fine. They're out here, they're worried about you,” Brandish replied. Freed nodded in relief and then fell silent, not knowing what to say to his parents. He hadn't seen them for a long time, he had only heard them on the phone and only a few weeks before. He honestly didn't even think they were coming.

“What a bad blow. I've always told you that riding a motorbike is dangerous” said his mother, worried about him, lightly running her fingers over his forehead. Freed stared at her in annoyance. If he hadn't been forced to stay in bed and if he hadn't hurt his arm he would’ve pulled away.

“I'm fine,” he repeated more firmly. “Now that you've done your homework as a good parent, you can go,” he added irritably.

“We are worried about you and you talk to us like this? We thought you died on that damn motorbike!” bellowed his father at that point. Freed looked at him irritably.

“Sure,” he murmured sarcastically and then raised his voice again. “Now you've seen that I'm fine, you can go,” he repeated hard.

“We're not going anywhere. Do you know why this happened? Because you don't listen to us and go prick around thinking only of yourself!” thundered the man. “If you hadn't ridden the bike, you wouldn't be here!”.

“No, it happened because a fucking car overtook when it wasn't supposed to,” Freed retorted.

“If you had driven a car now you wouldn’t be here”.

“It could happen anyway, and since when do you care about me? You threw me out of the house, so go away and leave me alone! “.

“Freed, we're just worried,” Beverly, his mother, tried to say, calmer. “I know we weren't the best parents, but we love you, that's why we complain about motorcycles, because we don't want something like that to happen to you,” she tried to explain more softly, running a hand through Freed's hair, who raised his left arm and pushed it back badly, despite the pang of pain.

“Is that why you destroyed my track? Because I don't think so, the truth is that you’re just obsessed with the reputation that others have of you,” he retorted sourly.

“Still with this story,” his father growled.

“I know it was you,” Freed said, looking at his father. But he wasn't the one to answer.

“You're right, we were fools and we’ll pay you all damages. But please, let's stop with these arguments and come back to us,” Beverly said. Freed was surprised for a moment. It took a few seconds before he thought of an answer, he was already about to start again in bursts to insult them, but his father did it first.

“Good heavens Beverly, what the fuck are you saying?” he blurted out.

“Shut up,” the woman snapped and tears began to flow down her face as she reached out her hand to take Freed's. The boy fell silent and looked away from his mother's guilty face, not knowing how to react. “Please Freed, I don't care if you follow in our footsteps. If you want to keep track, that's fine. I just want to see you again, feel like we're family. I should never have walked away from you, I'm so sorry,” she said with tears in her eyes. Freed didn't know how to react. His father seemed even more furious instead.

“Stop this nonsense,” he told his wife, who shook her head as she sobbed.

“Freed, please...” she repeated.

The boy didn't know what to do. If on the one hand he wanted to throw them out of the room, on the other hand he still felt a little warmth, at least from his mother's part. He closed his eyes for a moment, and luckily Brandish's presence saved him.

“Dad’s calling, he wants to talk to you,” she told Freed's parents. The father picked up the phone and went out and then his mother too got up and followed the man, not before throwing a guilty look at her son. Once they were both out, Brandish glanced at his cousin. “You’re welcome, I expect to be able to use your bathtub for the whole next month for letting them out,” she told. Freed sighed slightly.

“Anyway, you use it already,” he replied in a low voice, although he was grateful.

“Yes, well. Anyway, just so you know, aunt didn't know it was your father who ruined the track until three days ago. They fought a lot. Do what you want with it. Oh, and buy some gummy candies for when I use your tub,” she said, then exited. Freed smiled slightly at his cousin's oddities but didn't object.

He rested his head on the pillow so as to think about what to do with this, but the door swung open again and soon after his friends walked in en masse, not allowing him to do so.

***

“I only have a broken arm, I'm not sick,” Freed snapped as he entered the elevator. Laxus followed, holding the two pizza boxes in his hand.

“Can't you say 'thank you' like any normal person?” the blond asked with a slight smile.

“Well, thanks, we could’ve the bellboys take it home,” Freed grunted irritably.

“You haven't left the house in days,” Laxus pointed out. He was not completely wrong, it was already a lot to have forced him to walk two minutes to go to the pizzeria. Freed snorted.

“Because I had no reason to go out,” he grunted. Laxus rolled his eyes but didn't reply. The elevator reached their floor and Freed opened the door and entered the apartment. The two boys settled on the living room table and began to eat quietly. Since Freed left the hospital, they had only seen each other in their apartments, as Freed didn't really want to leave the house. Not just because of his arm, but also because he had started working from home and sorting out a lot of paperwork for the track.

“Have you decided what to do with yours parents?” Laxus asked and Freed stood with the slice of pizza in the air for a moment, not expecting the blond to ask him. Freed had opened up to him about his, explaining what had happened and how they had called him back. Mainly his mother, but his father too must have regretted what he had done. He hadn't specifically said it, but he had agreed to pay all the damages he had caused. And since the insurance had actually already paid for everything, Freed had decided to use that money to modernize the track.

But he still hadn't gone to them, even though his mother had asked him several times to go to dinner. They were talking on the phone, and Freed had to admit, it was nice to do it after years, even if a little embarrassing. However, still better than completely cutting the bridges.

“No,” he replied then taking a bite. Laxus nodded.

“Have you thought about it?”.

“Not much,” Freed admitted. “What would you do?” he asked. Laxus shrugged.

“I don't have to tell you. But with everything they’re doing, you can see that they’re repentant,” he replied.

“Yes,” Freed murmured. That was true. His father had also proposed to him to open a motorcycle company together. Freed refused, because he didn’t want to start any business with his father, despite the idea of releasing his motorcycles had aroused him a lot. He continued to eat for a while in silence thinking about what to do, until Laxus decided to change the subject and asked him if he wanted to watch a movie.

So, as soon as they finished dinner, they settled on the sofa. They picked a random thriller and turned off the lights, enjoying the scenes. It wasn't much of a movie, but that wasn't why Freed couldn't follow it. His problem was mainly caused by his thoughts, both about his parents and about Laxus. He already knew what he wanted to do, only he didn't know how.

He wanted to go see them, have dinner with them, try to be a normal family. But he knew that it would be terribly embarrassing, and that it would take very little to argue with his father. They had clashed since he was just a teenager, and they had never had a meeting point. Probably, if his mother hadn’t been there, they wouldn’t have spoken again.

As for Laxus instead… Freed was completely in love. It wasn't a real problem, on the contrary, it was something beautiful. Only, he wasn't used to feeling that way, nor was he used to having quiet afternoons and evenings. And Laxus was great. They had seen each other much more often, and mostly they dined together or talked, watched a few movies every now and then. Freed had been afraid he’d be bored as he could no longer ride a motorcycle, but that wasn’t the case. Sure, it was only going to be a month, but still, it was nice. And Freed had promised him that as soon as he recovered, they’d take many trips out of Magnolia.

“Would you like to come to my parents with me?” the question came out of his mouth without him even being able to think about it, and he immediately regretted it. Surprised Laxus turned to him.

“You mean, as a boyfriend?” he asked. Freed didn't dare look at him, feeling his face flush and hating his own skin and reactions when the blonde was around him. He waved it so easily, it wasn't fair. And knowing that they were in a relationship, even though they had never directly talked about it, was nice. Not that it wasn't obvious.

“Um... yes,” he muttered. “I mean, don't feel obligated. It will surely be an awkward dinner. Not for you, but for this whole situation, and they don't even know I'm engaged. In short, if you don't want to, I understand you very well. In fact, if I were you, I'd say no,” he said slightly agitated. Well, he would’ve done better to shut up from the start. Laxus chuckled slightly.

“It’s fine for me,” he replied. It was Freed's moment to turn to him in amazement.

“Really?” he asked. The blond shrugged.

“Sooner or later, I'll have to meet them, right?” he pointed out and Freed again felt his stomach churn at that simple statement, because that made it clear how serious they were making their relationship.

“Well, that's not really necessary. For five years they didn't know anything about my life and…”

“I want to do it,” Laxus interrupted. “Really. And then, it will be a good step to get closer to your parents again. Maybe I'll be the one to dissolve the embarrassment” he added jokingly. Freed raised an eyebrow.

“You?” he asked skeptically. “It will probably be a disaster” he laughed, letting his nervousness subside.

“Of course it will,” Laxus laughed and leaned over him. “But at least we can laugh about it together,” he added softly. Freed melted at that tone and leaned towards him kissing him softly. He loved those moments. Laxus put a hand on his thigh and pushed slightly towards him, parting his lips and making the kiss moister. Freed ran his hand across Laxus’ chest, hating the fact that he was unable to move his other arm.

They stayed for a while kissing on the sofa, until Laxus reached up with his hand for his jeans reaching his crotch and Freed moaned slightly.

“Laxus...” he whispered from his lips.

“Room?” asked the blond. Freed nodded and the two boys made their way to Freed's bedroom. The boy annoyingly tried to take off his shirt but he had some difficulty and Laxus chuckled slightly.

“Leave it,” he said pulling it off and pushing him to lie down on the bed. Freed didn’t object and then reached out and began to lift Laxus' shirt revealing his torso. The blonde took it off and immediately lay down beside him, pulling his arm towards him and kissing him again. The two were lost again in the lips of the other, with their bodies attached and their hands wandering everywhere.

It took a while for them to end up undressing completely. Laxus ran a hand along Freed's back until he reached his buttock, leaving a trail of heat along his skin. Freed let a moan escape from his lips as he positioned himself on top of the blonde and admired his terribly inviting body. He ran his free hand along his torso and then leaned over Laxus again and captured his lips again.

They made love by filling themselves with kisses, enjoying one of the caresses of the other while their minds clouded and their hearts pumped faster and faster. When they both felt they had touched heaven, they lay down next to each other on the bed, still out of breath and swollen lips, shining eyes and blood pumping strongly.

They remained in silence looking at the ceiling for a while, until they both turned to look at each other lovingly and with smiles on their faces. Laxus reached out to Freed's cheek, stroking it gently. He looked at him without saying anything, running his hand through his hair, taking a lock and starting to twist it in his fingers. Freed let him do it, feeling so domestic and happy that he hardly believed it. He was about to close his eyes and curl up beside him when he saw Laxus' gaze waver and the blond began to speak.

“I'm in love with you,” he revealed. Freed's heart, if possible, paused for a moment and then resumed hammering furiously, as the blood began to flow back to his face. A smile spread spontaneously.

“I love you too,” he replied in a whisper. Laxus closed his eyes and rested his forehead on him, while his hand began to massage the back of his neck. Freed enjoyed that attention, without worrying about getting dressed or anything. He closed his eyes and soon fell asleep.

***Six months later***

“What do you think?” Freed asked, pointing to the mechanical workshop he had had opened near the track, inside the Raijinshuu. Laxus looked curious at the place, it wasn't bad. It was big enough, and any bikers who frequented the place would definitely go there. Freed had already hired Gajeel, who had given him other names as well.

“It’s good, do you have other projects in mind?” asked the curious blond and Freed shrugged.

“No, I'd say that's enough. Covered parking, the track, the workshop, the bar, what do you want me to add?” Freed asked.

“Your father isn't that bad after all,” Laxus smiled. He had known him, and although the first dinner had been terribly embarrassing, then he had got used to it. If they invited Brandish too, the discomfort increased. But at least if she was there too with her girlfriend, the two didn't have all the attention on them. Anyway, the funniest part was coming home and talking about Freed's family and their quirks.

“I still prefer your grandfather,” Freed retorted and Laxus laughed. Neither of them had any doubts about that, the first time Makarov had met Freed he had offered him the wine and liqueur that he had personally prepared, insisting that Freed drink it all. And Freed didn't feel like refusing, so the evening ended with a drunkenness for the boy and Laxus who had to drag him up the stairs to 'sleep'.

The two families were completely different, and the two laughed when they thought about how they would react to getting to know each other. Nonetheless, things were going well. More than well, to be honest.

Freed and Laxus headed for the bar.

“So, you don't want to work for me?” Freed joked.

“Nah, better not. I’d risk getting pissed off, I never got along with any of my bosses”.

“Maybe this would be the exception that proves the rule,” Freed speculated. “Besides, I’d risk stealing all your customers”.

“I doubt it since I work on the other side of town. And in case that happens, I'm sure I'd find a job here. I’ve excellent connections,” the blond retorted with a grin as he walked into the bar. Freed didn't answer and as soon as they were inside, they heard Bickslow cheer loudly. Ever since Freed bought the new TV, the bartender was always enthusiastic.

“This TV is great. The best purchase you could make” Bickslow said. “Thanks to this you’ll see how many new customers you’ll have” he said fiddling with the remote control. Freed raised an eyebrow.

“I thought covered parking was the best investment,” he commented.

“What, are you kidding? This is so much better.” Bickslow smiled as Evergreen rolled her eyes in exasperation. Freed smiled and leaned against the bar, glancing at the people who would compete next time. Obviously, among those there was also Laxus, and the usual motorcyclists.

“I thought that after being defeated by Natsu you didn't want to compete anymore,” Freed commented, recalling how the blonde had been pissed off the time before and how Lucy had again cried over the lost money, because she had decided to bet on Laxus.

“I was just a little out of shape” Laxus retorted. “That kid only won out of luck.”

“I wouldn't say so!” Natsu exclaimed, he apparently had longer ears than anyone else in there. “Freed, I still have to beat you! Take part too!” he exclaimed. Freed smiled but shook his head.

“I’d take away all the fun,” he replied calmly.

“There he goes again,” Bickslow muttered.

“Well, that's right. For the first year I lost a lot of clients just because they never managed to win,” Freed reminded him.

“For once you can participate” Cana urged him “And if you participate tell me immediately, so I know who to bet on” she said, ready to put the money in her hands.

“Are you leaving me like this?” Laxus asked surprised.

“Hey handsome blond, last time you lost against Natsu, and if there’s a rule in this field, it’s that the boss never loses,” Cana said immediately. Freed gave Laxus a smirk, who rolled his eyes.

“If you participate, I'll kick your ass, you know,” he warned.

“If you participate, I want to be the first to know, Freed,” Cana continued. Freed seemed to think about it and Laxus was surprised, as he had never seen him compete with others. Then the boy shrugged.

“Well, why not,” he finally decided and walked to the board entering his name. Cana's eyes sparkled and she immediately bet a large sum on him. Laxus gave her a treacherous look. He knew how strong Freed was on the bike, but hell, Laxus was one of the strongest there, if not the strongest. Also, Freed hadn't competed for a while. He smiled at the idea of beating him and a new feeling of competition poured into him. Taking the grin off his face would’ve been a great satisfaction.

***

Freed sat across from him while Laxus fixed his bike and checked that everything was okay. Since the boy would be racing with a different bike than the one he usually used, he had asked Laxus for that favor. Laxus sat down on the ground, while Freed was sat on a bench and watched him curiously.

“You really enjoy doing your job,” he commented.

“Only if they’re gems like that” Laxus smiled “And then, considering the payment in kind, I do it even more willingly” he added with a grin. Freed chuckled and tossed a crumpled napkin at him, which Laxus caught with a smile.

“As long as you're not modifying my bike to make me lose it,” Freed said.

“What great confidence” Laxus said ironically, standing up. “I'm not a baron like you.”

“I don't cheat,” Freed retorted. “I've just been driving for years, and I know my track better than anyone,” he explained.

“You won't win forever, you know?” Laxus asked.

“Maybe when I get old a young boy will be able to beat me” Freed agreed at that point “But you sure have no chance.”

“We'll see,” Laxus smiled. “Your bike’s fine, and I swear I haven't touched anything,” he added with a smirk. Freed didn't object as he picked up the vehicle again and headed for the track, where the race would begin within minutes. Laxus went through the parking lot to take his, but as soon as he was there, he passed Lucy, who was sadly texting someone.

“Hey blondie, are you okay?” he asked.

“It would be better if I could bet on Freed” she objected immediately “But now I can't anymore, and I was hoping to raise money without risk” he snorted. Laxus looked at her for a while in silence, wondering why Lucy was still betting since she had won maybe only twice, only to lose the money won on the next spin. It just didn't make sense to him.

“Bet on me,” he told.

“I guess I'm not betting on anyone, I’d just lose,” the girl said disconsolately. Laxus smiled.

“Bet on me,” he repeated.

“Maybe you've never competed against Freed, but since I've been here, and I've been here since the track opened, he never lost,” she told him.

“There’s always a first time, right? Bet a little, so you'll lose little money, and if you win, you'll get all the money Cana staked on Freed,” Laxus told. Lucy seemed to think about it for a moment uncertain, like every time someone told her to bet on him. “And anyway, I've competed with Freed a couple of times. Trust me, I'll wipe that grin off his face once and for all,” he told confidently. Lucy sighed.

“I just hope I don't get it wrong,” Lucy murmured with a little hope. Laxus smiled and walked past, ready to beat his boyfriend.

***

Bickslow and Evergreen were pouring drinks for everyone, after the race a party had broken out and everyone was celebrating, some more and some less satisfied. For once, Cana wasn’t the center of attention, and she was content with a small glass of beer that Mirajane had offered to her as a consolation. Lucy instead had taken a huge glass of beer, she was celebrating with Natsu and her eyes glistening with her joy.

That only meant one thing. Freed had been beaten by Laxus, and was now sitting at a table with a frown on his face. Bickslow kept repeating the scene where Laxus had overtaken Freed on the huge TV and kept making fun of his friend, who was pouting more and more. Laxus next to him was probably the most pleased person in there.

“Hey Bix, a beer for the absolute champion of the track. And one for the brat who's been sulking since he lost,” he said with a grin.

“Shut up,” Freed grunted who still didn't believe he had lost. “And I'm sure you've changed something on my bike. Or maybe you rigged your,” he objected.

“You can have it checked,” Laxus said. “But I keep telling you, you’ve too many beliefs. It had to happen, and better with me than with Natsu, right?” he commented. “Even though he was in the lead at one point, you softened up a lot, huh?”

“Shut up,” Freed repeated frowning, taking a sip of the beer as Laxus put an arm around his shoulders laughing.

“You’ve bragged for years that you’re the absolute champion, and I can't do it?” he asked derisively and Freed rolled his eyes.

“You're annoying,” he muttered and the blonde laughed.

“Yes, but you were much worse than me,” he told and squeezed his hand on his shoulder, pulling it lightly against him and lowering his voice. “I expect a nice prize for beating the absolute champion” he told him in his ear and Freed smiled amused, letting his nervousness pass in the blink of an eye.

“Ask what you want,” he said and his lips curled into a mischievous smile. “I can buy you a new motorbike, offer you a fantastic dinner...” he began and Laxus laughed in his ear.

“You know what I want” he replied in the same tone and Freed smiled, breaking away a little.

“I guess you'll have to wait,” he replied and then picked up the glass again, taking a sip and throwing it an eloquent look.

“Laxus, I love you!” exclaimed Lucy shines hugging him from behind, and the two boys looked at her a little perplexed. “I've won so much money, practically all the money I've lost this year.”

“Hey, get your hands off my girlfriend!” Natsu exclaimed.

“She's the one who sticks,” Laxus grunted as Lucy laughed.

“If I were you, I’d walk away, and it has nothing to do with jealous Natsu. She'll throw up on you,” Freed warned him. Laxus with a snap pulled her away and luckily Natsu came to pick her up, taking her out of the room. “Well, at least I'm happy for her. Although I already imagine how she’ll spend her money,” Freed commented.

“If she bet on me, you won't have to worry about anything.”

“You won once, now don't freak out,” Freed objected. By now the nervousness had passed, after all Laxus was right, once it had to happen. And better from his boyfriend than from Natsu, who would then talk about it endlessly. Laxus didn't answer him, just stared at him with an excited smile and leaned over him to kiss him. Before he could reach his lips, however, Bickslow cut them off.

“Sorry beautiful lovers, but there’s a party going on. If you want to snog, there’s a warehouse for that. Evergreen and Elfman can assure you it's comfortable and we can't hear anything from here,” he joked. Evergreen gave him an incinerating look, while Laxus rested his head annoyed on his hand, for having been interrupted.

“Bix, why don't you go serve the customers? I thought there were so many people,” Freed commented, equally annoyed by the interruption.

“Because with the new bartender you’ve hired, I’ve more free time,” Bickslow replied with a grin. “Especially if I can tease you a little,” he added.

“Then go make us two beers, and make us some sandwiches too. The ones that take longer. And expect to have a lot of unpaid shifts next month,” he added. Bickslow rolled his eyes but walked back behind the counter while Laxus chuckled.

“That's why I don't want to have you as a boss. You know how to become an asshole”.

“I can get a lot worse than that,” Freed smiled and his expression softened again. He asked if he wanted to leave the bar for a moment, either to get away from the party or to get some air. The blond immediately accepted, and as soon as the two were outside, they leaned their backs against the wall, staying close so that their arms touched. Laxus glanced at the track, the sun was setting leaving a trail of warm colors on the sky. If they weren't there outside the bar, from which they heard even the noises of the party, it could’ve been a romantic moment just between them.

“You know, nothing against the prize you requested, but I was thinking of doing a road trip on a motorcycle for two weeks if you like,” Freed said at one point. Laxus's face lit up. They had talked about it a couple of times, but due to the commitments of both they hadn’t had the opportunity to do so. Laxus, however, could ask for leave, and Freed was finally calmer with his business.

“Only if we sleep with the curtains,” he replied. Freed made a brief face but nodded immediately afterwards. “I didn't think you’d have accepted right away,” Laxus joked, but there was some truth in that statement. As much as Freed enjoyed driving in the mountains, he wanted to sleep on a comfortable bed, not on a mat in the middle of the woods.

“I'm not a spoiled rich man,” Freed objected.

“No, but you're not even an adventurer. So, where are we going?” Laxus asked.

“Take me wherever you want, great adventurer,” Freed mocked. “But make sure you pick places where Google Maps takes, I don't want to get lost far from home.”

“Funny,” Laxus commented ironically, turning to him. Freed was smiling lovingly at him, and looking at him completely in love. Laxus folded his lips up and bent over him, kissing him gently, taking advantage of the brief moment of calm.

As soon as they parted, the two turned to the red sky, intertwining their fingers and imagining their journey. Neither of them really cared about the destination to be reached, as long as they could make the journey alongside the other.

Final notes: Even though it was short, I'm glad I wrote and finished a multi-chapter. I enjoyed writing it, I hope you liked it too. Thank you all for reading.

[fandom-puff]

Ultimatum

Part 2

AN: I’m blown away with how much people liked this! I’m still not sure how it will end, but hopefully this is at least semi decent !

Warnings: swearing, pregnancy, mentions of period-typical sexism surrounding single parenting

You bit your lip as the doorbell rang. You were about to leave when you heard the voice of Karl travelling through the house. “Mummy, there’s someone at the door!”

“Coming!” Ada called, and you forced yourself to stand a little straighter as the door opened. “YN, what’re you doing? Come in before you freeze, where’s your coat?” You let the slightly older woman hurry you inside, smiling slightly as she mothered a grown woman. “Polly rang,” she said gently. “I’ve made a bed for you, and I’ve sorted out some clothes,”

You smiled gratefully, feeling your eyes well up with tears. “Thank you,” you said, voice cracking slightly. You let Ada rub your arm and make you tea as you told her everything, head in your hands. “I just... I don’t know what to do, Ada,” you murmured. “It’s all gone wrong... he used to love me,”

Ada sighed and smiled sadly. “He used to love us all. Now all he loves is money and power. Come on, let’s get you upstairs, you look done in. Tomorrow, we’ll go to the doctors,” you nodded, and for the second time in two days, allowed yourself to be tucked into bed like a child.

As the sun shone through the curtains and the streets started buzzing with energy as labourers got to work, you awoke. You washed your face and brushed your teeth, before styling your hair and doing your makeup properly for the first time in months, slipping into one of Ada’s lent dresses. You pressed a hand to your tiny bump, stroking with your thumb, before braving going downstairs.

Ada grinned at you as you entered the kitchen. “There she is, gorgeous as ever,” she smiled, happy to see a bit of colour in your cheeks, even if it was artificial. “Come on, Karl, eat up,” she smiled, ruffling her son’s head as he ate his porridge. You accepted tea from Ada and sat down, letting Karl jabber away about what he was learning in school. It was soon time to head to the doctor’s, and Karl was dropped off at a neighbour’s. You walked arm in arm with Ada, down the busy streets, before checking into the small medical centre. Ada did the talking, and you were soon called into the midwife’s room.

“Which one of you is mrs Shelby?” She asked kindly, and you raised your hand slightly. Ada gave you an encouraging nod as you hopped up onto the bed and the midwife conducted her examination. Throughout the whole thing you stared at the ceiling with your eyebrows tugged together, hands clasped over your heart.

“Well, Mrs Shelby, I can definitely confirm that you are pregnant. Congratulations,” the midwife said as you sat up. “I’d say you’re about two months along, judging by that bump... does that match up with your cycle, or lack thereof?”

You nodded and took a deep breath. “Yes, it does,” you said simply, looking at the paperwork. You stared at the line labelled surname for what seemed like eternity.

“You can take the forms home if you’d like, fill them out with your husband?” The midwife offered as you stared blankly at the desk. Ada quickly nodded and guided you out.

“Well done, YN,” she said gently, tucking the papers safely into her handbag.

“I’m pregnant. I’m definitely pregnant,” you whispered. Part of you had hoped that Polly was wrong. Part of you wanted nothing of Thomas’s growing inside you.

But part of you wanted to have a baby of your own, to grow and nurture and raise as your own, not as some other woman’s surrogate. Part of you hoped news would reach Birmingham and that Tommy would come rushing down to London on his hands and knees and beg you to come back and have a life with him.

“Yes you are,” Ada said, snapping you back to reality. “But it’s okay. We’ll work through it, I’ll help you with the baby and the pregnancy and all that. And in terms of paperwork, your surname is Shelby. Like it or not, you’re still married to my twat of a brother and I think that’s for the best... most places won’t see unmarried women,”

You sighed, letting Ada be the voice of reason, walking through a peaceful park on your way back to her house. “I’ve still got some of Karl’s stuff from when he was little... I’m sure I have a Moses basket upstairs somewhere,” she mused aloud, as you drew the cardigan you had on tight around your body. You felt as though you had a flashing beacon on your belly, and thought everyone could see.

You didn’t speak again for the rest of the way home, only offering Karl a small smile as you picked him up from the neighbour. You slipped into the house with your head hung, and shut the door on the busy street of London. The cars, the people, and the clacking of a walking stick on the cobbles.

Tag list: @the-makingsofgreatness @peakyswritings @haphazardhufflepuff @diksy1112 @zodiyack

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[sa-gt-tarrius]

Liars Ahead: Proceed with Caution

Warnings:

Foul language, needles, lots of injuries, character death. Tread carefully!

@cakercanart @secret-shifters

This fic is a bit gritty, moreso than what I usually write. If it’s too much for you to handle, or if it’s just not up your alley and you don’t really like the harsher elements, please feel free to let me know! I’d be happy to edit it down to make it less angsty.

***

No one knew exactly how many secrets MIRA Incorporated kept under wraps.

Their kind of work demanded secrecy, of course. When a company is involved in such groundbreaking fields, they are bound to draw prying eyes. MIRA specialized in relativistic aeronautics, atmospheric engineering, and long-term spacefaring. These terms were new-age babble that roughly translated to “living in outer space.” MIRA studied things that science fiction nerds could only dream of seeing. 

However, MIRA understood that profits would tank if any old Joe Schmoe could walk into their headquarters and leak their data. It was no surprise, then, that the employees of MIRA knew so little about their own company. Most workers had to stay on their assigned floor for their entire careers. Three whole levels of clearance were required to use the fancy upstairs bathrooms!

But there was one thing that was no secret to anyone: MIRA was planning something big. Something amazing. And whatever it was, it was going to happen soon. Excited whispers swept through every office and laboratory—the company had something in store that would rock the world. 

But to Henry Newground, this was all a bit underwhelming.

Henry had been tirelessly working at MIRA HQ for five years. He was an accountant for MIRA’s payroll, which meant he spent most of the day staring at lists of numbers and rummaging through file cabinets. When he was first hired, Henry naively believed that he could climb the corporate ladder and become an astronaut if he just worked hard enough. But alas, it was not to be—even after long years of no sick days and lots of overtime, Henry was still a simple accountant. He fought tooth and nail for a goddamn raise, so it was no wonder that his dream job was a mere fantasy. 

At least, that’s what he thought. But then a letter appeared on his desk one morning. 

Mr. Henry Newground,

We at MIRA have accepted your application to join our spacefaring and research apprenticeship program. Enclosed in this letter is a Level 10 Clearance Card. You will need it to access the upper office on the 50th floor, where more details will be provided. Please come to the office as soon as your shift ends. 

Kind regards, 

Elliot Rose 

Chief Executive Officer of M.I.R.A. Incorporated 

At first, Henry thought this was just a joke. His boss Kerri didn’t mention the letter all day, so she must’ve not known about it. (Either that or she had been in on it the whole time. She was a well-known jokester, after all.) And none of Henry’s coworkers spared him a second glance as he quietly left at five o’clock to head upstairs. 

The security guard at the elevator tried to turn Henry away, which seemed to confirm his just-a-prank theory. But as Henry fumbled over a frantic apology, trying to explain that he must have been set up by his coworkers, the security guard spotted a shiny blue rectangle dangling from Henry’s neck: a Level 10 Clearance Card. The guard opened the elevator door without a word, ushering the confused man inside and pressing the button for the fiftieth floor. 

“Ms. Rose doesn’t usually let people into her office,” the guard murmured as the elevator ascended ominously. “You must be helping with that big project they’re talking about. All the nerds upstairs won’t shut up about it.”

“Sh–she said she’d give me details when I got to her office.” Henry spun to face the guard, his face scrunched up anxiously. “Do I look okay? I didn’t have time to put on a suit…”

“You look fine. Stand up straight, we’re almost there.”

Given the air of mystery surrounding the upper floors of the building, Henry had no idea what to expect. But what he didn’t anticipate was to be met with a gust of wind. Henry shielded his eyes as a glare of sunlight began to burn his retinas. He was outdoors—on the roof of the building. It looked like a helicopter pad, only much, much larger. 

The security officer cleared his throat, gently ushering Henry out of the elevator. He jutted his finger towards the other side of the launch pad, towards a hallway that led back inside the building. “Just follow the path for a bit, and then take the left path at the fork. If you make it to the greenhouse, you went too far.” 

“Er, thanks…”

“And make sure you knock. Ms. Rose hates when people barge in.”

Henry nodded tentatively. He took a deep breath and marched towards the entryway, determined to get to the office before chickening out. 

The upper floors weren’t that unusual, Henry thought as he trotted along. He passed by a smelly locker room, a tiny medical bay, and a grimy computer room. Nothing about this place seemed particularly flashy or elite. Henry was starting to think he was on the wrong floor. 

Henry made the left turn, as the guard told him, and arrived in a small alcove with three rooms. One of the rooms was a lab of some sort, although it was barren and empty for the time being. The room ahead was filled with bushes and shrubs, with a large glass tube in the centre. And the last one was closed—a sign reading “please knock” hung nearly on the doorknob. 

Henry knocked three times and yanked his hand away like the wood was searing hot. 

Then the door creaked open. 

No one knew much about Ms. Elliot Rose. Even the managers and supervisors scarcely spoke of her at all. Henry honestly had no idea what to anticipate from her, aside from the cutthroat ruthlessness most company owners tended to have. But instead of a snide, fierce woman who could tear him apart with a glance, the woman standing in the open doorway was hardly remarkable. She was just barely taller than Henry, no older than thirty, and her red hair bristled out in all directions like she hadn’t brushed it in days. Her eyes were bagged and sunken, almost sickly, and her gaze was panicked and wild for a moment before locking onto Henry. 

She frowned. “Can I help you?”

“Ms. Rose?” Henry tried, unsure if he was truly talking to the CEO of the largest corporation on the planet. “My name is H–Henry Newground. I was told to come here at five, I–I have a clearance card if you need to see it—”

“Oh, right. Henry.” The woman suddenly straightened up, swinging the door open fully and gesturing for Henry to enter. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry to inconvenience you like this.”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry for the delay.” Henry stepped inside, clearing his throat in a sorry attempt to appear composed. The room was nothing special—just a small office with four computer desks and a box-shaped radio. The woman took a seat at the messiest desk, leaning back into the chair. Henry claimed an empty chair from a desk nearby, bouncing his leg anxiously. “So, um… about this spacefaring program…”

Elliot Rose smiled, sinking into the chair cushion and leaning back. “I’ve looked over your application and was very happy with what I saw. I think you have potential, Henry.”

“Thank you,” Henry sputtered, baffled and giddy that the CEO was singing such high praises of him. “I’ve always loved learning about space, you know. That’s why I applied for this job. Even as a kid, I—”

“That’s great, Henry,” Elliot hummed, slipping out a gaping yawn before continuing. “Anyway, I just wanted to run a couple of things by you before we send you off. You got your master's degree in microbiology from Harvard, correct? I’ve also heard you’ve taken courses in astrophysics.”

Henry nodded eagerly. “That’s right. I’ve also taken extracurricular classes on geology, I was the leader of the chess club… a–and I sold drinks at the campus football games,” he finished lamely.

“You see, Henry,” Elliot drawled, twirling a pen with her fingers, “I have thirty-four other applicants with higher education than you do. Half of them have three or more doctorates. I don’t care much about your education.” She leaned forward, crossing her arms firmly over the desk. Something glinted behind her eyes—it was impossible to read. “But you have special skills, ones that could greatly benefit my crew.” Elliot leaned forward, crossing her arms firmly over the desk. “Our coordinators are getting ready to send supplies to Polus on a small dropship. The trip will last about two days. I want you on that ship before it takes off.”

“Y–you want—” Henry choked on his breath. “You want me to go to space?”

Elliot smirked. “Is that a problem?”

“I–I just— Y–you don’t— W–well—“

“Use your words, Henry.”

“I’m just…” Henry sputtered, struggling to find words to say. “Don’t I need training?”

“You don’t sound very excited… I thought you would be happy about this. Didn’t you apply to join our spacefaring program last year?”

“I mean, yeah.” Henry shuffled in his seat awkwardly. “But my application was turned down. I didn’t have enough education for it. Why do you want me now?”

“Things change,” Elliot laughed. “I’d like to personally ask you to join the Polus crew and help document alien life.”

The two fell silent. 

Elliot smirked coyly. “Is that a yes?”

“I–I mean, absolutely,” Henry sputtered. “I’m just… a little confused. Are you sure you’ve got the right person?”

“I most certainly do,” Elliot replied. 

“Okay,” Henry muttered, unsure of how he managed to get into this strange situation with no warning. “So… what now?”

“Go home, get some sleep, and come back here tomorrow. Same time, of course. I’ll get you all the details by then.” 

“Okay.”

“Have a good night, Henry.”

“Th–thanks.”

Henry’s head was still spinning as he made his way out of Elliot’s office. 

“You alright, buddy?” the security guard piped as Henry entered the elevator, his eyebrow raised curiously. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I’m fine.” Henry gripped his forehead, fighting off another dizzy spell. Butterflies were forming in the pit of his stomach as the elevator descended. “I just need to go home.”

And that’s exactly what Henry did. As soon as he fetched his lunch kit from the office fridge, the young man hopped into his SUV and drove straight home. Not even bothering to change out of his work uniform, Henry collapsed on the bed. His head continued spinning. 

Surely this was a big joke. 

Elliot herself said that many people were far more qualified than he was. So why was she so adamant about having Henry on her crew? It made no sense. 

Henry knew he wouldn’t have gotten any answers that night, not by muttering and mumbling into his pillow like a lunatic. He’d have to get the details tomorrow like Elliot told him to. So instead of uselessly mulling it over, Henry plucked his phone off the side table and quickly dialled a number. The phone barely had time to ring before someone on the other end picked up. “Hey, sweetie. How was work today?”

“Hi Henry, it was good! What about you?”

“Well, I–I was called into a meeting by the CEO. She said she wanted me in her spacefaring program.”

“Oh, that’s… hang on. Are you serious? They accepted you?!”

“Yeah. She asked me to help with some research. She said she was impressed by my application and—”

“You’re going to space!” A young woman’s voice bubbled ecstatically over the phone. She laughed and giggled, even belting out an excited shriek for good measure. “I’m so proud of you! I knew you’d get in, I just knew it!”

“You did, yeah.”

“God, I wish I could be there right now,” the woman chuckled. “I want to give you a big hug.”

Henry smiled faintly. “Thanks, sweetie.”

“I’m going to go buy a bunch of chocolates for you today. I don’t know if it’ll get delivered before you leave, but it can at least be a welcome-back present.”

“Oh, you don’t have to, Sigrid,” Henry replied. “How would you even send it? The post office won’t accept packages that big. I don’t even know if a box of chocolates would fit in the mail truck.”

The woman, presumably named Sigrid, huffed indignantly. “Well, fine. I’ll just think of something else.”

Henry had never actively sought out a relationship. He was too focused on work to consider dating, and his social circle wasn’t large enough for him to start dating around. And yet, for three years now, Henry had been in a lovely relationship with a woman named Sigrid Brandson. She lived in northwestern Canada (according to her), far away from any large cities, and Henry wasn’t yet lucky enough to meet her face-to-face. 

The reason? Sigrid was a giant. 

There few places giants and humans could casually be together—and much fewer ways to travel to each other—so they usually spent their time on the phone or video calls. Henry didn’t mind much, although it was disheartening to have never kissed Sigrid even after years of being committed. 

It was thanks to Sigrid that Henry learned to speak and write Riesian, the language of the giants. When the two first met on an online fan forum, Sigrid spoke very little English, and Henry didn’t even know the Riesian language existed. But with time and effort, the two were able to cross the language barrier, eventually teaching each other their native tongues. 

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“Yeah, she said I’m going to a planet called Polus. They have a research base set up there.”

“Polus?” Sigrid repeated. “Oh… that’s… that’s nice.”

It was then that Henry realized Sigrid’s voice had become a tad crestfallen. He frowned. “Everything good?”

“Just… be careful out there,” Sigrid murmured. “I know it’s probably fine and I’m worrying about nothing, but make sure you stay safe, okay? And call me if you can. I’m so proud of you, Henry.” She suddenly stopped speaking English and switched to Riesian. 

“Bai tcho eim, honey.” 

Be safe.

***

On the days leading up to takeoff, Elliot had been vigorously training Henry. He learned how to fix wiring issues, how to power up engines, how to use the weather nodes, and how to examine and sort specimens that were brought into the base. Henry was very quickly becoming a rather competent spacefarer. 

But still, Henry was on edge. Despite the training and the reassurances from Elliot, something didn’t sit quite right. But none of that mattered—before he knew it, Henry was stuffed into a white spacesuit, complete with the MIRA logo and the American flag emblazoned on the shoulders. Dozens of people swarmed around him, talking to each other and furiously taking notes. A brisk wind punctuated the murmur of the crowd. 

Elliot knelt before him, her hands running along the fabric to make sure the suit would fit Henry. 

“You’ll be accompanying Aesir Vidstrom while you’re on Polus,” she said as she worked. “He’s the new chief of medical staff. He’ll meet you at the landing site and help you get settled in.” Elliot fiddled with the straps on Henry’s waist, tightening the suit until it fit. Henry was quite a few inches shorter than prior astronauts, so his spacesuit needed to be altered before he could use it. “You’re to stay with Aesir at all times unless he says otherwise. Is that clear?”

Henry nodded and glanced away, choosing to stare at the looming spaceship atop the crowded launchpad—a dropship, Elliot had called it. The ship was fairly large, about eight meters in height and width, and the nose stretched outwards almost twelve meters. The jet black paint glistened in the early morning sun, and Henry’s nose crinkled at the smell of something burning. 

“And remember, my crew is always on standby. We’ll be ready to help you whenever you need it.”

“Th–thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t mention it.” Elliot finally stepped away from Henry, admiring the finished spacesuit. “I think you’re ready. Let’s get you out of here.” She turned around, facing the crowd, and raised her voice. “Five minutes to takeoff!”

“Five minutes!” someone screamed over the din. “Fire up the reactors!”

“Starting reactors! Diverting power to the left and right engines! Standby…”

“All clear, ma’am! Someone get Newground on board!”

“Let’s go, Henry.” Elliot shoved Henry towards the dropship. The large metal plating began to slide up, similar to a garage door. A pair of men in uniform guided Henry up the steps and into the cabin of the ship. Ten plush seats lined the walls—Henry took a tentative seat in the closest one, the farthest to the left, and began to buckle himself in. The men in uniform quickly left as the engine roar increased in volume. The other staff members gathered along the edges of the launch pad in anticipation. 

“Good luck, Henry!” Elliot hollered, waving her arm up over the crowd. “You'll do great, I know it!”

Before Henry could reply, the door began to slide shut. The ship shivered and groaned, and within seconds, the whole thing began to rise and sway. Henry barely had time to squeeze his eyes shut before the ship suddenly lurched forward at unimaginable speeds. 

The poor man clenched his seatbelt like a lifeline. He knew takeoff would only last a minute or two, and yet the ordeal seemed to last a lifetime. Henry felt his body being squished against the chair, constructing his lungs and preventing him from breathing. As much as he tried to, he couldn’t even scream. 

And then, as quickly as it began, everything started to slow down again. The roar of the engine faded somewhat, and the whole cabin gradually stopped shaking. Henry wasn’t quite confident enough to get out of the seat, so he remained strapped in, gasping heavily as he tried to soothe his racing heart. 

Finally, when everything was calm, Henry shakily unbuckled himself and rose to stand. As he shuffled through the cabin, he took the time to properly examine the interior of the dropship he would be riding in. There were various steel crates scattered about, each containing canned rations and various tools. A small laptop was placed on the smallest crate, detailing the dropship’s velocity, fuel levels, turbulence, and current distance from Polus. He made a mental note to check on it later to make sure everything was normal. 

And then, on the starboard side of the ship, a solitary window glimmered.

Henry dared himself to peer outside. 

He paused, then gasped.

Even after seeing outer space countless times in photographs and videotapes, Henry was still gobsmacked by the vast starry void before him. To his right, the planet Earth was rapidly shrinking as he blasted further away, and the sun was a mere speck of light in the distance. This wasn’t a fantasy anymore—Henry was hurtling through the solar system in a spaceship, making his way towards an alien planet. 

A childish grin crept onto his face. 

This was it. After years of daydreaming, Henry was a real-life astronaut—his younger self would be so proud. Henry was so ecstatic that his earlier anxieties and frustrations were completely forgotten, left behind on his home planet. 

In less than two days, Henry would arrive on Polus to begin his spacefaring apprenticeship. He kept thinking about Sigrid, imagining all the stories he’d get to tell her when he got back to Earth. 

This was going to be amazing.

He just hoped nothing would go wrong. 

***

The trip to Polus was progressing faster than Henry ever expected. He wondered how MIRA’s ships could move so quickly and yet use so little fuel—it was a blessing of science, to be sure. 

But by the twentieth hour of the trip came and went, Henry felt anything but blessed. 

There wasn’t much for entertainment in the dropship. Henry could only fumble around on the laptop, gaze out of the window, or pace the cabin a few times. The boredom was excruciating, but the anticipation was even worse. Luckily, Elliot had reached out to him a few times via video calls, answering questions and keeping him company during the arduous journey to Polus. 

“Any turbulence today?” she asked. 

“None,” Henry replied. “No asteroids, either. Everything is fine so far.”

Elliot smiled. “Good. The dropship has a bit of a reputation for rough rides, so I was worried about engine damage. Seems like I was worried about nothing.”

The two made idle conversation every four hours or so, which was a welcome distraction. As much as Henry adored being in space for the first time, he couldn’t deny how lonely and boring it was. And having someone like Elliot to guide him was another welcome addition, even if her presence unnerved Henry somewhat. 

Two more days passed. Henry was munching on his lunch ration. He’d opened the package to find sliced canned meat—bland and oily and smelly. But with the addition of some crackers and canned oranges, the meal made for a decent lunch. However, before he was even halfway finished eating, a rumbling began to overtake the cabin. His lunch contained tumbled onto its side, spilling cracker crumbs all over the floor. Henry instinctively latched onto a nearby crate, trying his best not to fall over as the entire ship swayed. 

A synthetic voice rose over the fray. “Entering the Polus mesosphere,” it announced in a polite, monotonous tone. “Current velocity: 326 miles per hour. Engine temperature: nominal. Distance from indicated landing site: estimate of 833 miles. Please fasten your seatbelt and prepare for landing.”

Henry was knocked to the ground as the shaking intensified. The ship was approaching Polus, and fast. He crawled to the nearest seat, restraining himself a bit too tightly in his haste. The voice continued droning on as the ship entered the planet’s atmosphere. 

“786 miles… 721 miles… 678 miles…”

And then a deafening screech sounded from above. Henry winced and tightened his grip on the seatbelt as the ship suddenly did a nosedive. 

“504 miles… 452 miles…”

A siren overhead wailed loudly. Bright red lights flashed in the corners of his eyes. 

“310 miles… 259 miles…”

Something was very, very wrong. 

“199 miles… 97 miles…”

He braced himself. 

“12 miles… 2 miles…”

Everything went white. 

***

“Come on, don’t die on me.”

Black dots continued to bounce in Henry’s vision as his mind stirred. The young man let out a miserable groan, clutching his forehead painfully. 

“That’s it… Wake up, little guy…”

Henry paused. It took him a moment to realize that the voice overhead wasn’t speaking English. It took two more seconds to realize that the voice was extremely loud, almost like it was coming from a speaker. 

Both these mysteries were solved as soon as he opened his eyes. 

A monstrously large figure loomed above, blocking out the light of the bulb dangling overhead. Ginormous eyes, hazel and bright, were locked onto Henry’s trembling body. And it—he—was smiling gently. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” the giant man murmured in Riesian. “I’m not gonna hurt you, little guy.”

Henry swallowed hard. He took a moment to gather himself so he wouldn’t have a panic attack, then turned his attention back to the giant face hanging above him. The huge, strange man cocked his head curiously. “Ah geez, I hope you’re not broken or anything… That would suck.” The voice boomed and shook Henry’s core, even though the giant was trying to speak softly. Henry couldn’t even keep eye contact without his heart dropping, so he kept his gaze locked onto the giant’s chest. He only barely noticed the white MIRA spacesuit the giant wore, identical to Henry’s suit in every way aside from its massive size. “Oh yeah, you can’t understand me, huh? Maybe we have a translator lying around here…”

“I–I am fine,” Henry fumbled in awkward Riesian, forcing his voice not to waver. He wasn’t even sure if he was even speaking correctly—but he was too nervous to care about his grammar. Fluency was the least of his problems. “I am okay.”

“Sweet.” The giant nodded, froze, then gasped. “...Wait, you can understand me?”

“I d–d–do.”

“But you’re human.” The giant’s face descended further—huge strands of curly brown hair brushed along Henry’s stomach. “Humans don’t speak Riesian.”

“Y–you’re right,” Henry murmured, flinching away from the enormous eyes drilling into him. “It’s a long story.”

The giant suddenly scoffed, his sheepish half-smile giving way to a full grin. “Cheeky bugger, huh? The name’s Aesir. What’s yours?”

“You are Aesir?” Henry perked up. “Aesir Vidstrom?”

Aesir’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, yeah. You’ve heard of me?”

Henry licked his lips, trying to remember some difficult Riesian words. “You are a… scientist. A space e–explorer. B–b–but Ms. Rose… never said you are a… giant.”

“How about that,” Aesir laughed, stroking his chin. “Never thought I’d meet a human like you.”

Thinking for a moment, Aesir snapped his fingers in a sudden realization. 

“Oh, wait—then that would make you what’s-his-name, right? HQ said some random new guy was on his way. But they never said you’d be a human. That’s MIRA for you, I guess… If they were stupid enough to wreck your ship, then they’d forget to mention that.”

“Wreck my ship?” Henry repeated slowly. Memories began flooding back into his mind. The alarms, the flashing lights, the sudden nosedive…

The dropship crashed. 

“Wait, then I—” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, buddy.” The giant winced when Henry scrambled to sit up. “Take it easy, yeah?” Aesir paused for a moment, tapping his foot a few times. “Actually… Wait here for a sec, alright? I need to grab something.”

With that, Aesir moved away to shuffle out of sight.

With the enormous face out of his vision, Henry was able to sit up and finally assess the surrounding area, hissing a bit as he aggravated his injury. He was sitting on a mattress that stretched several meters in every direction. The blue sheets and white pillow were reminiscent of a gurney, like ones you might find in a hospital. And sure enough, upon closer inspection, the room appeared to be a small medical bay, white walls and smell of disinfectant included. There were three other identical beds lined between curtain barriers, just like the bed he was sitting on. Henry peered to the right. He could see the silhouette of Aesir leaned over a countertop through the wall of curtains. 

What was he doing over there?

Henry forced himself to speak. “This is Polus?”

“Sure is,” Aesir replied from beyond the curtain wall. “You were lucky you made it this far on that hunk of junk—if your ship malfunctioned any sooner, you might’ve crashed into an asteroid or something.” Aesir came back into view, sidestepping the curtain to approach Henry. “Now stay still.”

“I… uh…” Henry held up his hands, carefully scooting back a few inches. Aesir hadn’t come back to Henry empty-handed; in his left palm, the giant cradled a glass syringe filled with a bluish liquid. The needle was almost six feet tall, taller than Henry was. “I–I do not need that.”

“Yes, you do. Come over here.” 

“It is t–too big,” Henry wavered, curling in on himself as Aesir continued to approach. “Nothing hurts. I am… un–uninjured. Do not need that. Do not need it.”

Listening to Henry’s trembling voice and weak attempts to dissuade him, Aesir’s face fell. “Look,” he whispered, getting onto his knees to kneel by the bed, “don’t make this harder than it needs to be. When we’re in medbay, I’m the boss.” The giant slowly reached out his free hand, grasping Henry’s shoulder with his enormous finger and thumb. His other hand, the one bearing the syringe, began to drift closer to Henry. “Now stay still, or this will hurt more than it needs to.”

In a fright, Henry leapt away from Aesir’s hand in a frantic escape attempt. He scrambled across the sheet, making a beeline for the white pillow at the head of the bed. 

“Shit—” Aesir cursed under his breath, tossing the needle to the side. He made a lunge forward, both hands outstretched, reaching for Henry’s tiny form. Before Henry could reach the pillows, the terrified human being suddenly found himself encased in musty, cramped darkness. His stomach sank when he realized what just happened—Aesir had trapped him in his hands. 

A feeling of intense vertigo overcame him as Aesir stood up straight; he felt himself being slammed against the giant palm beside him. Despite being very obviously trapped, Henry continued to squirm, searching in vain for an opening to crawl through. He pawed at the skin surrounding him, growing ever more desperate. 

And then a light shone through the fingers above him. “Stop being a brat,” Aesir muttered. Henry opened his mouth to retort, but his breath hitched in his throat when a sharp pain pierced his lower back. He let out a strangled sob, trying not to thrash around and hurt himself more. 

Aesir hummed contentedly. “There we go… nice and easy.” The needle retracted as quickly as it was injected. Henry took the moment of reprieve to dry his eyes and ease his pounding heart. “Told you it wasn’t that bad,” he chuckled. “Just be thankful it wasn’t worse.” 

Henry refused to reply—he focused on keeping his eyes locked downward. Aesir’s lack of empathy was beginning to unsettle him; although the giant paid lip service to Henry’s discomfort, he ultimately seemed to care very little about the pain and terror he was causing. 

Aesir, oblivious to Henry’s plight, lifted his hands to his face, staring down the sniffling, petrified human with unbridled excitement. “Well, now that you’re all drugged up, I figure we’re good to get your suit back on. Don’t want you freezing out here, you know.”

“Suit?” Ah, yes. They were in space, after all. It made sense that he should have to wear a spacesuit, even if they were indoors. “O–okay.”

Aesir pulled his left hand away from Henry, reaching for the nearby countertop. His hand returned quickly, dangling the white spacesuit with his index and thumb. “Legs up, bud. Let’s get you dressed.”

“I can do it,” Henry said quickly, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. 

“Yeah, nah,” Aesir chuckled. “Doctor’s orders. Now hold still this time, you brat.”

Henry huffed pointedly, knowing that he wouldn’t be getting out of this. With heavy reluctance, Henry slowly raised his legs into the air, allowing Aesir to slip the pant legs on, followed by the sleeves and the helmet. Unfortunately, the visor was cracked along the upper edge, but Aesir urged him not to worry. “The glass is three layers thick,” he explained. “You’ll be fine until we can get a replacement.” Surprisingly, Henry didn’t quite believe him. 

Henry had only just gotten the suit fitted (or rather, Aesir did the fitting for him) when someone suddenly spoke up. “Aesir.”

At the sound of the firm, strange voice, Henry flinched. His eyes landed on a figure standing in the corner of the room, dressed in a bulky green spacesuit. Henry couldn’t see her face—the light of the room reflected off the visor, obscuring whatever was behind the glass. Henry briefly imagined that she looked like a war veteran, stoic and hardened, probably with lots of scars decorating their skin.

“Oh, Svikari!” Aesir whirled around at the voice, clearing his throat and donning a lopsided grin. “What brings you here?”

“I came to see the human.” The woman, presumably named Svikari, barely budged as she spoke. It was like she was a statue with a voice of its own. “But I see you’ve taken care of things. I’ll be on my way, then.”

Aesir choked on something. “W–wait! Hang on a tic, alright? Why the hurry?”

Svikari cocked her head, acting as though Aesir’s question was incredibly stupid. “I have work to do. I came to see how the human was doing, and now I have to go.”

“Well, hang on,” Aesir stammered, fumbling over his words. “How about you come with me to storage today? I have to do some refuelling there.”

“I don’t have any tasks in storage today,” Svikari replied curtly.

“Come on, boss,” Aesir urged, lowering his voice. “It’s safer in groups. You know that.” He perked up a bit, raising his cupped hands. Not expecting to be jerked upward, Henry was almost launched off his palms. “A–and I know you wanna meet the human! He’s kind of bratty, but I think you’ll like him.”

Svikari paused. “Hello, human,” she said softly. “I trust you’ve been treated well?”

Henry hesitated. What was he supposed to say? He was tempted to start ratting off all the bruises he was getting thanks to Aesir, but he bit his tongue. Would he get in trouble if he told the truth? This Svikari character seemed far less sympathetic than Aesir, so perhaps there would be no point in complaining. They might even hurt him even more for speaking up. So he swallowed his pride and nodded slowly. “Y–yes, I am fine.” 

Svikari paused, glancing between Henry, who shuddered under her scrutinizing gaze, and Aesir, who smiled hopefully. 

“If you’re that afraid to go alone, I suppose I can come,” Svikari sighed. 

“I’m not scared!” Aesir retorted, tightening his painful grip on Henry. “I just don’t wanna get jumped in there.” Shrugging, Aesir once again prodded Henry in the stomach, chuckling as he did so. “I guess if an imposter shows up, I can use Henry as bait. You wouldn’t mind, right bud?”

Svikari laughed in reply, although something about her tone seemed… off. Henry wasn’t able to tell if the laughter was genuine or sarcastic. Henry said nothing at first, focusing on clutching his stomach to keep himself from throwing up. 

“I–imposters?” Henry finally coughed. “What are imposters?”

“Oops.” Aesir winced painfully. “Uh, well… we weren’t supposed to tell you.”

“I see no harm in explaining,” Svikari interjected. “If he’s going to stay here, he should know.”

“But Ms. Rose said—”

“I’ll handle Rose. Just keep your mouth shut.”

Aesir groaned, scrunching up his face in discomfort. “I mean… you’re the boss, dude. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. She’s scary when she gets mad.”

“Thank you, Aesir.” Svikari nodded, finally turning her attention back to Henry. “I assume Elliot never told you about the strange happenings on this base?”

“N–no.”

“I thought not. It’s in her best interest to keep this all a secret, after all.” Svikari folded her arms, exuding that terrifying, ominous energy that only giants were capable of. “Elliot probably told you that we found life on this planet. The life forms we discovered are what we’ve been calling imposters—carnivorous, man-eating shapeshifters that we’ve been trying to get rid of for the last few months.”

Henry felt his stomach drop. Carnivores? Man-eating? Shapeshifters? Someone had to be pulling his leg at this point. “Ms. Rose said you found plant life,” he countered quickly, not willing to believe Svikari’s wild claims. “She said nothing about aliens.”

“That’s because she was lying.”

“B–but why would she lie?”

“Telling people would be bad for business, I guess. Who knows what goes on in her head.” Svikari shrugged weakly. “Imposters have been wreaking lots of havoc lately. They kill the lights, mess with the reactors, cut off the oxygen supply… and I’m willing to bet they caused your ship to crash.”

“You’re right,” Aesir gasped. “I didn’t even think about that. They probably messed with the radio signals or something.” 

“We’re pretty sure we got rid of them for now, at least.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” Aesir corrected. “Remember what happened to Tor?”

“Of course I do,” Svikari huffed. “It took Bastion weeks to get the blood out of the carpet.”

Oh, dear god. 

There was no room for doubt, then. Henry began to tremble, tears causing his eyes to glimmer. What sort of cruel joke was the universe playing on him? After so long, he manages to achieve his dream of becoming an astronaut, only to find himself stranded on a faraway planet with malicious giants and man-eating aliens. Some malicious deity had to be laughing their ass off right about now. 

“Aww, don’t worry, little guy!” Aesir cooed behind his visor, bouncing the human seated in his hand. “Big bad imposter people can’t hurt you out here.”

While Aesir continued to coo condescending reassurances, bouncing his hand in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, Svikari stared thoughtfully at the minuscule human. Henry had no idea what was going on in that strange head of hers. Henry simply gripped the coarse fabric of Aesir’s glove, trying his best not to descend into a full-blown breakdown. 

“We should be going,” Svikari said suddenly. “Let’s take care of refuelling so I can finish my tasks.” 

Aesir hummed in agreement. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

***

If Henry was being frank, which he usually wasn’t, he’d say that Polus was a bit… underwhelming. If he wasn’t looking at the dank, snowy, barren landscape, or the abnormally large scale of everything around him, Henry would truly believe he was still on earth. Still, Aesir seemed determined to remind Henry just how small he was at any given opportunity. He’d croon, poke, and tease him incessantly, despite Henry’s continual whimpers of disapproval. 

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Aesir to fill up the fuel tank in the storage room, which was a cramped little building in the centre of the base. Svikari decided to just follow Aesir around until all his tasks were done, with the promise that Aesir would return the favour afterward. 

Svikari offered to carry Henry while Aesir worked. The giant was visibly hesitant about this proposition, refusing the offer the first few times Svikari asked. But eventually, Aesir relented, and Henry had been relegated to riding in Svikari’s hands. Henry sat in silence, rubbing his newfound bruises absently. He briefly wondered if someone would give him painkillers if he asked, but he pushed the thought away. There’s no chance they’d even consider the idea. 

“Almost done,” Aesir announced after a while, leading the group down a long hallway. Small patches of snow crunched beneath their boots as they trudged along. “I just gotta check the oxygen supply. Svikari, what tasks do you have left?”

A beat of silence passed before an answer came out. “O–oh, I need to fill the air canisters,” Svikari said quickly, stumbling over her words a bit. “And then I have to upload some data to HQ.”

“Cool.” Aesir glanced behind him, eyeing Henry with a cheeky grin. “You good back there, pipsqueak? Need anything?”

“No,” Henry mumbled. 

Aesir laughed, unfazed by Henry’s sneering tone. “Alright, don’t get your panties in a knot.”

After his initial wave of terror had passed, Henry found himself becoming increasingly agitated. He was upset with Aesir for terrorizing him in the lab. He was angry at Elliot for sending him to Polus. And he was mad at Svikari, too. He didn’t have a reason to be, but darn it, he was mad anyway. 

Henry was broken out of his thoughts when something brushed against his shoulder—a thumb. “Hey.” Svikari tapped him gently, her head tilted to the side. “You look upset. Is everything ok?”

With her intimidating presence, Henry could barely keep his eyes on Svikari. His eyes drifted to the ground, locked into his feet as he replied quietly. “Yes.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” the giant prodded. “Did he... Did Aesir hurt you? You don’t look too good.”

Henry bit his lip nervously. “N–no, he didn’t.”

Svikari sighed. “You’re lying. I can tell.” She adjusted her hands, swiveling Henry around so he had to face her completely. “Tell me what happened.”

“I–I...” Henry backpedalled, scooting as far away from Svikari’s looming face. He found his back pressing against Svikari’s curled fingers, and through the shimmering glass, he could almost see two pleading eyes locked into him. “H–he didn’t mean to. I just... wh–when he tried to give me those medications, I tried to run away—”

“What?” Svikari frowned. “Hang on, back up. What medications? What are you talking about?”

“U–um, he didn’t say what it was. Maybe it was a painkiller.”

“...Did he use a needle? Was it a blue liquid?”

“H–how did you know that?”

Svikari fell silent. She glanced towards Aesir, who was walking a ways ahead, and her muscles tensed. “That wasn’t a painkiller,” she said lowly. “It’s an experimental drug that our old medical chief was working on. We aren’t allowed to use it until we test it, since it killed our test subjects a few days ago. Aesir seriously could have killed you.”

Henry’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“I knew something was fishy,” Svikari growled, her grip on Henry tightening slightly. “Aesir was just an intern until our old medical chief got killed by impostors. No one thinks he’s cut out for the position, but we don’t have anyone else who’s even remotely qualified.”

Silence overcame them for a few minutes.

“Aesir,” Svikari finally called, a hard edge lining her voice. “Can we talk?”

Aesir stopped in his tracks. He turned to Svikari questioningly. “Hey, boss. What’s up?”

“About that drug you were working on... Have you tested it lately?”

Aesir paused, tapping his foot as he descended into thought. “Hmm... No, I don’t think so. Not since the rats died on me.”

“I see.” Svikari huffed indignantly. If she weren’t holding Henry, she most certainly would be crossing her arms. “So you haven’t used it at all since then?”

“Nope.”

“That’s funny,” she laughed. “Because I’m pretty sure you used it on the human this morning.”

Aesir’s arms and shoulders locked up.

“Am I right?”

“...Did he tell you that?”

“No, I figured it out.”

“Oh.” Aesir looked down at Henry, a faint scowl crossing his face before he turned his attention back to Svikari. “Don’t tell anyone,” he breathed. “Please. I could get fired.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Svikari snapped. “You weren’t worried about killing him? God, it’s just like you to pull a stunt like that. You only care about yourself.”

“I–it’s not like that, boss. I promise.”

Svikari groaned, rubbing her face with her free hand. “I won’t tell anyone. But you have to get your act together or I’m bringing this issue to the captain.” Her fingers curled inward, shielding Henry from Aesir’s view. “And until then, I’m revoking your jurisdiction over the human. He’ll be accompanying me from now on.”

“But I—”

“Is that a problem?”

“N–no, ma’am,” Aesir replied shakily. “You’re the boss.”

“Good.” Svikari nodded firmly. “Now, then... let’s finish our tasks before I change my mind.”

Aesir nodded, ducked his head, and continued walking in silence. His footsteps clomped much faster than before, but Svikari continued at her usual slower pace.

“I’ll take care of this, Henry,” she whispered. “Don’t worry.”

Way to make an impossible request. Henry wasn’t just worried—he was terrified. Not only did Aesir try to make him a test subject for his weird new drug, but now he had to face the wrath of the very giant that could have killed him. The only thing standing between himself and Aesir was Svikari, who Henry wasn’t even sure he could trust.

Svikari probably meant well. At least, Henry wanted to believe that. But something was off about her that Henry couldn’t quite pinpoint. The way she carried herself, her odd way of speaking, her constant bouts of silence… She was weird. No one would deny that.

But there was something else. Svikari wasn’t just strange—she was downright creepy. She obviously knew much more than she was letting on, and Henry couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d met her somewhere before. 

And then a thought struck him. 

Henry craned his neck up to look at Svikari’s visor, and through the glass, he could almost spot the outline of two large eyes. “How do you know my name?” he asked. 

“You told me earlier, remember?”

“No, I didn’t. I never told you my name. Neither did Aesir.”

“Oh.” Svikari slowed to a stop. She glanced at Aesir, who was too far ahead to hear them conversing. The giant huffed and lowered her voice, a frantic tinge lining her words. “I’ll… I’ll tell you later.”

“No. Tell me now.” Henry wasn’t sure why he felt so brave all of a sudden; maybe he was fed up with being constantly treated like a child, or maybe he was just experiencing an adrenaline rush. But he felt he had nothing else to lose at this point—Henry wouldn’t be giving up until he got an answer. “What’s your deal?”

“Deal?” Svikari laughed nervously. “I… I don’t have a deal. I’m just Svikari.”

Henry found it a bit strange that Svikari was caving so easily to his interrogation. She had no problem shutting down Aesir, so why was she losing face in front of a human? It made no sense. But Henry was beginning to put puzzle pieces together. Svikari knew Henry’s name. She was invested in keeping him safe. She was able to tell when he was lying. And here she was, her tail tucked between her legs, being verbally grilled by a human being. 

This Svikari person… seemed awfully familiar.

“Are you?” Henry glared daggers at Svikari’s visor. “Because I don’t think you’re telling the truth. Is that even your real name?”

“It’s—!”

 “Tell me the truth!” Henry hollered, throwing his arms to the air in frustration. “I’m tired of being babied! I’m tired of you two hiding things from me! Tell me the truth right now!”

“Okay, okay!” Svikari hissed. “Keep your voice down, alright? I don’t want Aesir listening.”

At that, Henry sobered a bit, tossing a cautious glance at Aesir walking ahead. Luckily, he didn’t seem to have heard anything. “So out with it,” Henry snapped, facing Svikari with a scowl. “What’s going on?”

“...You were onto something when you mentioned my name,” Svikari said slowly, every word hushed and deliberate. “Just so we’re clear—my real name is Svikari. But you wouldn’t know me by that name.”

“You used another name,” Henry finished, the dots finally connecting in his mind. “When you talked to me.”

The giant’s empty hand falling limp at her side. “I… I was hoping we’d get to see each other on peaceful terms, and… I wanted it to be on Earth, to be honest.”

Henry swallowed hard. “You… You’re Sigrid.”

Svikari smiled, trying her best not to look intimidating. “It’s nice to meet you, Henry.”

“This is impossible. I–it can’t be you. You’re a—”

“You fellas good back there?” Aesir called, swivelling his head around to peek at the pair. “Sounds like a real bout you’re having.”

Svikari cleared her throat. Her hands lowered, taking Henry out of her field of vision. “We’re fine. Just keep going.”

Aesir simply shrugged. “Alright.”

The group hooked right when the hallway abruptly ended. They found themselves standing before a small room secluded in the corner of the building. Something akin to grass lined the ground, and a large, towering tree stood proudly in the centre of the room. Embedded in the trunk of the tree was a small monitor, complete with wires looping in and out of the bark. While he couldn’t be certain, Henry wagered that this was the oxygen supply Aesir mentioned, although he didn’t expect the oxygen supply to be a plant of all things. 

“This won’t take long, ma’am,” Aesir stammered as he stepped into the threshold of the room, bending over to peer at the monitor. His face contorted into an expression of disgust. “Yeesh. Who messed with the RAD settings?”

“Beats me,” Svikari hummed.

“Whatever... Hang on, I just gotta fix this mess real quick.” With that, Aesir fell silent, sliding his fingers rapidly along the screen. Svikari simply stood nearby and waited, while Henry fidgeted anxiously. He couldn’t get their earlier conversation out of his head. Svikari’s words—or rather, Sigrid’s words—echoed in his brain, rattling his thoughts around. 

Svikari, meanwhile, was extremely quiet. Henry gazed at her, opening his mouth to ask a question, only to have a giant finger press against his mouth. Shh. 

Henry blinked, a little unnerved by how Svikari was acting, but nodded slowly. Svikari lifted her head and peered at Aesir, who was still focused on the monitor screen. Then, moving as slowly as possible, Svikari knelt down and tilted her hands, sending Henry sliding onto the grass below. 

It took Henry a moment to orient himself. He diligently wiped off the grass that clung to his suit and looked skyward just in time to see Svikari approaching Aesir from behind. The human watched intently as Svikari snuck up on Aesir, a kitchen knife clutched tightly behind her back, wondering what she was up to.

… 

...A kitchen knife?

Before Henry could even think to look again, he was subjected to the sound of a hideous squelch. There was a flash of red, a pained grunt, and suddenly Aesir collapsed to the ground, motionless. 

Svikari loomed ominously over the limp body, her hand still latched onto the knife that she’d plunged into Aesir’s back. Murky blood was beginning to pool at her feet, staining the grass a horrid shade of crimson. And then Svikari’s head pivoted like an owl, boring her gaze into Henry. 

“Don’t scream,” she heaved.

“Y–you—” Henry’s hands flew to his mouth. “You killed him.”

Svikari faced Henry fully. She extended her hands slowly and carefully, taking cautious steps forward as she spoke. “I know. Just… please stay quiet,” she whispered as she drew closer. 

“G–get away from me,” Henry choked, stumbling backwards and throwing his hands up to protect himself. “Please, don’t— d–don’t kill me.”

“Henry!” Svikari suddenly exclaimed, speeding up and making a beeline for Henry. “Be careful, you’re going to—”

Seeing Svikari quickly approaching, Henry made the split-second decision to spin around and bolt. But by the time he noticed the gaping crater in the floor below, it was too late. His foot whizzed through thin air, and with no further fanfare, he tumbled down into the pitch-black abyss. Time froze—a shout echoed from above. 

Then he hit the ground. Hard. 

Something snapped. Henry yowled in agony. He found himself unable to budge without pain coursing through his battered limbs. Tears began welling in his eyes, but he fought the urge to sob—crying would make it hurt even more. Thankfully, his visor was still intact, although the same could not be said for his bones. He simply laid motionless on his stomach, his arms and legs spread out, praying he would just pass out already.

“Oh no.” Svikari’s voice echoed off the crater walls, but Henry couldn’t see where she was standing. Even if the human was able to move his head and look around, the darkness cloaked everything in the vicinity. There was no telling where the giant was, but she was close. “Henry… It’s alright. I’m going to help you.”

“N–no,” Henry hissed, weakly hacking out the taste of copper from his mouth. “Not like this. Please.”

“Stop that. You’re hurting yourself. Please… let me help.”

“But you killed—” Henry couldn’t restrain himself anymore. He began to cry softly, despite how much it hurt him to do so. Every sniffle was excruciating, wracking his body from the inside-out. “You’re an i–imposter, aren’t you? And you’re going to kill me next.”

“No no no, honey… I would never hurt you.” Svikari’s voice was right next to his ear at this point. A huff of hot breath washed over Henry, rustling his hair. Wasn’t Svikari wearing a helmet, though? How could he feel her breath? “Listen… you’ve gotta trust me. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Henry cast a bitter glance to the side, unsure if Svikari was even standing in that direction. “You’re a liar.”

Svikari didn’t grace Henry with a reply. Instead, two long fingers slowly and deliberately dug beneath his stomach and hoisted him into the air. Henry squeezed his eyes shut as he was pressed against Svikari’s chest. Maybe this would be quick and painless. He could only pray at this point.

“Let me think…” Svikari inched her way forward, snaking through the dark underground pathway so as to not jostle Henry too much. In his daze, Henry failed to realize that there was no way Svikari could fit into the crater, let alone move around freely. But the only thing he was focused on was making peace with his life, knowing that he was about to die at the hands of the one he loved more than anyone else. 

Suddenly, Henry was blinded by sunlight. Svikari had begun crawling out of another crater located outside of the building. The holes in the ground seemed to be interconnected. But how did Svikari know that? And where was she planning on taking him? 

Before Henry could voice any of these questions, a deafening alarm sounded from above. He looked up just in time to see a flashing red light next to a speakerphone attached to the roof nearby. “BODY REPORTED,” a voice blared. “ALL PERSONNEL TO THE OFFICE. REPEAT, ALL PERSONNEL TO THE OFFICE.” 

Svikari swore under her breath. She lifted Henry out of the crook of her elbow, quickly swooping him towards a pocket located on her chest. “I’m gonna need you to stay quiet for now, alright?”

Henry’s breath hitched, eyeing the pocket warily as his legs were swallowed by it. “Why do I—”

“Shh.” Svikari cut him off. “Just trust me. I’ll explain everything once I take care of this.” With those ominous words echoing in his head, Henry was once again plunged into darkness, trapped in the front pocket of her spacesuit. 

There was no way this would end well.

***

[mandelene]

For the drabble prompts, what about single father Francis taking Matthew and/or Alfred to the doctor’s, where he meets Dr Kirkland for the first time? Bonus if the twins try to set them up, but don’t worry if you think it’ll be too long for a drabble. 💕

I did make it way too long, but once I got into it, I couldn’t stop myself. 😅💖 Sorry in advance. I hope you enjoy it! Also, I want to make a disclaimer that I do not think parents shouldn become infatuated with their kid’s doctor irl, nor should said doctor react the way Arthur reacts in this story because it’s unprofessional. 🤣  It’s just a story! 

Extreme Hopscotch and a Hot Date

Word Count: 2060

“Alfred, please, don’t make a scene!” 

“No! You can’t make meeeeee!” 

Francis did not think he’d be frantically rushing a bleeding Alfred to the nearest urgent care clinic at seven o’clock in the evening because someone thought it would be a good idea to create a game of “extreme hopscotch” in sidewalk chalk right in front of the house. Long story short, after a miscalculated cartwheel, Alfred managed to fall on his arm and land in gravel, resulting in a three-inch laceration leading all the way from his wrist and stopping midway down his forearm. 

Alfred is a menace when it comes to receiving any sort of medical attention, and Francis has tried everything to get him to be more cooperative—bribing him, whispering sweet nothings, soothing him, lecturing him, scolding him—nothing works. 

Thankfully, he has a secret weapon…

“It won’t be so bad, Al,” Matthew tries to convince his brother. “I’ll hold your hand, okay?” 

Alfred swipes at his red puffy eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and sniffles wetly. “I don’t want it to hurt.” 

“The doctor will make it better,” Matthew promises, squeezing Alfred’s shoulder. “And maybe you’ll get a lollipop at the end!” 

Francis doesn’t know how Matthew has become better at getting through to Alfred than him, but he’s grateful for it.  

The idea of receiving a lollipop seems enticing enough because Alfred sullenly walks his way over to the pleasant medical assistant who has been patiently waiting for him to follow her down the hall. 

“You can come right in here, boys,” she says, holding the door open to an exam room. 

Francis picks Alfred up and sits him on the exam table so that he doesn’t have to struggle to climb up. He places a warm, reassuring kiss on his forehead, and then, he and Matthew sit in a pair of chairs opposite Alfred. 

“So, what brings you guys in today?” 

“Alfred fell on gravel while playing on the sidewalk and has a gash on his forearm. I’ve tried my best to keep it bandaged, but the bleeding hasn’t stopped,” Francis explains, pressing his palms against his knees. He has a fair bit of white coat syndrome himself, so being calm for the boys in these types of situations often proves to be difficult. 

The medical assistant notices Alfred’s rolled-up right sleeve and the gauze around his arm. “Ouch, that’s not good…All right, honey, I’m just going to take your vitals.” 

She takes Alfred’s temperature with an ear thermometer. When it registers as normal, she checks his blood pressure—also normal.

“Does he have any medical conditions?” 

“No.” 

“Allergies?” 

“Not that I know of.”

“And how old is Alfred again?” 

“Seven.” 

The medical assistant busily types away at the computer for a moment, clicks some boxes, and then says, “Okay, one of our doctors should be in shortly. Feel better soon, sweetie!” 

Francis thanks her as she leaves and shoots Alfred another encouraging smile. “It’s going to be okay, mon chou. 

Five minutes of tense silence go by, aside from Alfred occasionally asking, “Is it going to hurt? Am I going to get a shot? Are they going to cut my arm off?” while Francis tells him to relax and take a deep breath. 

There’s a knock on the door. A doctor of average height with emerald green eyes, tousled blond hair, and a white coat comes in. He shakes Francis’s hand and greets him by saying, “Good evening, I’m Dr. Arthur Kirkland.” 

“Francis,” Francis replies, mouth suddenly dry. 

The doctor turns to the exam table to shake the hand of Alfred’s uninjured arm, and Francis can see that Alfred is impressed that he’s being treated like a grown-up. “You must be Alfred, and I’m assuming that that’s your brother sitting over there.” 

“Yeah, that’s Matthew,” Alfred supplies with another wet sniffle. “He’s my twin, but I’m older than him by like ten minutes.”

“I see,” Dr. Kirkland says before shaking Matthew’s hand as well for good measure. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” 

He pauses to look down at Alfred’s injured arm and gently lifts it up. “Can you tell me what happened here, Alfred?”

“Ummm…Uhhh…I sorta was playing extreme hopscotch with Mattie and got to the part where you’re supposed to do a cartwheel, but I fell over and hit my arm and cut it.” 

“Extreme hopscotch?” Dr. Kirkland asks, raising a brow before carefully undoing Francis’s makeshift bandaging. 

 “…Yeah, it was an idea Mattie and I came up with…” 

 “I told you it was a bad idea,” Matthew mumbles from the sidelines. 

Dr. Kirkland smiles, clearly amused by the story. He sets Alfred’s arm down for a moment to put on some gloves and frowns when he gets a good look at the ugly gash, which is still bleeding even two hours after the incident. “Has this been cleaned out?” 

“I tried,” Francis says, holding a hand against his temple. “I wanted to rinse it under the sink, but Alfred threw a fit, and I don’t think I got very far.” 

“Hmm...” He turns Alfred’s arm back and forth several times and feels along his wrist and the surrounding bones. “Does it hurt when I press around here?” 

Alfred whimpers and says, “Yeah, when you pressed up there.”

“Up here?” Dr. Kirkland asks, prodding around Alfred’s wrist again. 

“Oww!” he exclaims, and a few tears roll down his cheeks. “It hurts.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it worse…I need to check something, all right? And it may hurt for just a moment, but you seem like a courageous boy, and I think you can handle it. Okay?” 

 “…Okay.” 

Francis smiles again and gives Alfred a little thumbs-up. Given how he normally acts at the doctor’s—he’s doing phenomenally.

Dr. Kirkland slowly rotates Alfred’s wrist and tries to hyper-extend it forward, but Alfred lets out a sharp shout, so he stops. “All right, all done…We’ll have to make sure you didn’t break any bones in your wrist or arm when you fell, Alfred, since you’re having some pain and swelling. So, I think it’d be wise to get an x-ray. We can do that here and know within a few minutes. We’ll also have to clean that wound and give you a few stitches.” 

“I-Is it going to hurt?” Alfred asks in the most pitiful tone Francis has ever heard him use. 

“Maybe a little, but then it’ll feel much better later.” 

Alfred swallows hard and mumbles, “Okay.” 

After a nod of confirmation and understanding from Francis, Dr. Kirkland says, “We’ll take him for the x-ray first. The medical assistant will come and get him. I’ll return once we have the images.”

Francis nods his head again “Okay, thank you!” 

“Not a problem.” 

Dr. Kirkland steps out for the time being, so Francis gets up to give Alfred another comforting kiss on the head and wipes his tears with some tissues. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad, right?” Francis murmurs, running a hand through his hair. “The doctor seems very nice.” 

“You should go on a date with him,” Alfred abruptly says, and Francis feels his heart skip a beat. 

“What in the world—?”

“You said he’s nice.” 

Matthew then jumps into the conversation and adds, “You were looking at him all funny, Papa.” 

“I was not!” 

“You so were,” Alfred agrees with a giggle in between his pained sobs. 

Before Francis can analyze the social cues he must have obviously given for the boys to be suggesting such a thing, a new medical assistant arrives to take Alfred to go and have his x-ray taken. Francis offers to walk him there, but Alfred insists that he’s a “big kid” and can go by himself. 

“You haven’t been on a date in a long time, Papa,” Matthew whispers. 

“I’m not going to have a fling with Alfred’s doctor, Mathieu!,” Francis whispers back. 

Alfred is brought back to them about ten minutes later, and the doctor arrives fifteen minutes after him with some medical supplies. 

“The good news is Alfred doesn’t have any fractures. It looks like a bad sprain. I’ll give him a brace to wear on his wrist for the next two weeks until it stops being sore and tender,” Dr. Kirkland tells Francis before looking down at Alfred. “Let’s get that wound sorted and you can be on your way. No more extreme hopscotch though, all right?”

“All right,” Alfred reluctantly agrees, hunching his shoulders. 

“I’m going to give you some medicine to numb the cut so that it won’t hurt when I put the stitches in.” 

But when Alfred spots the syringe and needle, he screeches at the top of his lungs, and Francis does his best to calm him down. 

“Alfred, Alfred! What happened to being a courageous boy?” Dr. Kirkland asks. “It’s just a little needle.” 

“No shots!” 

“Alfred, please,” Francis begs. He was doing so well! 

Once again, Matthew comes to the rescue by taking Alfred’s healthy hand in his own. “It’s okay, remember?”

Alfred squeezes Matthew’s hand and buries his face into his Papa’s chest to weep some more. 

Dr. Kirkland, meanwhile, coaxes Alfred to extend his arm and place it flat on the exam table. “It’ll be quick, Alfred. I promise.” 

“I take back what I said, Papa. You can’t date him! He’s a meanie!” 

At that, Francis turns beet red and really wishes he could disappear. Maybe the poor doctor didn’t hear that. “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what he’s talking ab—”

“A date?” Dr. Kirkland inquires, and Francis isn’t sure if he’s continuing the topic of discussion because he’s genuinely curious or because he wants to distract Alfred from the needle that’s now approaching his flesh. 

“Papa is single and hasn’t been on a date in forever,” Alfred explains, head still pressed into Francis’s shirt. When the needle finally pierces his skin, he yelps, but Matthew squeezes his hand and Francis rubs the back of his head even though he is mortified. 

“I see…The worst part is done with, Alfred. You shouldn’t feel any more pain, but your arm may feel tingly and strange as it becomes numb. I’m going to rinse this out with some sterile saline…” 

Francis doesn’t dare to look, afraid he’ll accidentally meet the doctor’s gaze and make things a million times more awkward. Alfred eventually loosens his grip on him and Matthew, curious to see what’s being done to him. 

“There we are. Much better,” Dr. Kirkland says before he readies the sutures. “This shouldn’t hurt, so tell me if it does…” 

“How many stitches?” Alfred asks, less hysterical and distraught now. 

“As many as it takes to close the wound. Probably around fifteen.” 

“Gross…But that’s also kinda cool.” 

Dr. Kirkland smiles again—he has such a lovely smile, Francis thinks. 

Alfred’s eyes widen as he watches the doctor work. “You do it so fast!” 

“You’re not the first person I’ve stitched up…It’s very important that you don’t touch your stitches or rip them, or else the wound won’t heal. You can come back to have them taken out in ten days.”

Once that’s done, Dr. Kirkland wraps Alfred’s arm in some gauze to discourage him from picking at the sutures and puts his wrist in a small brace. “How does that feel?” he asks. 

“It doesn’t hurt as much.”

“That’s the answer I was looking for,” Dr. Kirkland says before typing some notes into the computer and scribbling something on a piece of paper. Then, he hands Alfred a lollipop and a sticker that he fishes out of a drawer and turns to Francis to inform him, “You can give him some ibuprofen tonight before he goes to bed to bring some of the swelling and pain down. Ice and elevation will also help. You can get his detailed discharge forms from the front desk. Do you have any questions?” 

“No, that’s all. Thank you very much.” 

Dr. Kirkland nods and hands Francis the piece of paper he was writing on, except it’s now folded in half. Then, the doctor helps Alfred down from the exam table, pats his head, and says goodbye. “Stay out of trouble and feel better soon!” 

Francis assumes the paper contains some instructions regarding Alfred’s care. But when he unfolds it and realizes what it is, his hands tremble. 

It’s a cellphone number...

[karajaynetoday]

these arms would not be taught to hold another's, 'cause we're the special two | ashton irwin

image credit

Hello tumblr pals! Hope you’re having a wonderful day. As promised, here’s a little epilogue for it’s not the pain they’re getting over, it’s the love. i’ve tried to make it as soft and loving as possible, because i feel that these characters deserve a bit of that after everything they’ve gone through. thanks for all of your support and feedback on this little series, it’s always going to be special to me, and i love knowing how much it has resonated with you <3 

Here is Part One, Part Two,  Part Three and Part Four if you’d like to revisit them first. This part is inspired a little by The Special Two by Missy Higgins, and the italics in the piece are lyrics from the song. 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: mention of death of a parent, mention of exhaustion, anxiety, depression

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

I've hardly been outside my room in days 'Cause I don't feel that I deserve the sunshine's rays

It’d been two months or so since Ashton had driven away from you on that rainy, gloomy morning. You’d tried your best to push through the overwhelming loneliness that you felt once he’d gone, and you were back to being by yourself in your mother’s house again. Your siblings were pushing through their own grief by keeping busy and moving forward, making plans to move out and pursue university studies or travel the world, and it warmed your heart to know that they were going to be okay. But at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel like you were losing that sense of being needed that you’d held for so much of your life, and a sense of hopelessness was beginning to creep into its place.

This time around, the distance was made less painful by daily text messages and weekly video calls. You thought you’d feel awkward talking to Ashton through a screen, after such an intense time together in person over the last little while, but it felt so comforting and natural that neither of you ever missed a call. Ashton was somewhere in Europe, France maybe? And he’d be criss-crossing over the continent for the next few months. You saw the excitement in his eyes when you mentioned that you’d always wanted to visit Europe, Italy especially, but you stopped him mid-sentence when he offered to book you a flight. You weren’t ready to leave here, not yet. You just needed more time to feel like yourself again. Ashton reassured you and said he understood, like he always did, and that he would be waiting whenever you were ready. 

When you're young you have this image of your life That you'll be scrupulous and one day even make a wife

You’d started to feel increasingly out of sorts. At first the fatigue felt like an overdue episode of being burnt out, which was understandable given how draining your life had been lately. But then there were other mysterious symptoms too, that didn’t quite add up, so you managed to drag yourself out of bed and to a doctor’s appointment. They couldn’t diagnose you with anything unexpected, and there were murmurs of exhaustion, anxiety, depression, too much stress. They sent you on your way with referrals and prescriptions, and you spent the next few weeks being put on waiting lists and at appointments and trying new things, until slowly the haze began to lift. It didn’t clear entirely, and you knew from your past experiences that it would never totally fade, but you were able to get out of bed in the mornings for no other reason than because you wanted to, which was an achievement within itself.

The lawyers had dealt with your mother’s will swiftly, noting that the house and belongings were to be split equally amongst you and your siblings. After a few emotional days revisiting old belongings and the old memories that came with them, you’d all agreed that selling it and moving out to newer places was the best way forward. It would be hard to part with the place that you’d grown up in, and it’d be strange to come home to somewhere new, or celebrate Christmases or birthdays around a different kitchen table, but it also felt like that was exactly what your mother would have wanted for her loved ones: to cherish her memory by living their lives as brightly as she shone down on them. 

But I will fight for you, be sure that I will fight Until we're the special two once again

The house sold quicker than you’d anticipated, and all of sudden you were surrounded by moving boxes with no real sense or desire to move them anywhere. Your heart had always belonged here, in the familiar streets and secret hideaways and creature comforts of home, but lately it had longed for something else. Something more. Some sort of adventure, some sort of change of scenery. It was one of those now or never moments, and you were torn over what to do. Stepping away and recognising that your family would be alright without you constantly by their side was a hard pill to swallow, but it was also so freeing. 

One afternoon, Ashton’s mother had invited you out for coffee. You could tell she was keeping a watchful eye on you, no doubt out of loyalty to your mother and love for you, but you also had a suspicion that a certain son of hers had asked her to make sure you were doing okay. You were chatting away, talking about your dilemma about where to move house next, when she pulled a piece of paper out of her bag and slid it across the table. You immediately recognised it as Ashton’s tour itinerary, and four days off in Italy had been circled in pink highlighter.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. 

“Absolutely not. I cannot fly to Europe, not now. I don’t have anywhere to live yet, and there’s forms to sign, and boxes to sort out, and…”

All she did was fix you with an amused stare, and you could see the mischievous glint in her eye that you’d seen in Ashton’s many a time before. 

Within a matter of hours, your flight was booked. Your moving boxes would go to storage for now, and you could sort them out whenever it was that you returned. You’d been sworn to secrecy, and added to a WhatsApp group message of some people that you hadn’t spoken to in years, but they were thrilled to hear you were on your way. Apparently Ashton had been missing you much more than he’d let on in your video calls, and your heart leapt when you realised how soon you’d be reunited.

And we can only see each other, we'll breathe together

These arms will not be taught to need another's

'Cause we're the special two

The flights were long but uneventful, and before you knew it you were on your way to a hotel in Italy, trying not to bite your nails out of nerves. The band schedule had a few days off after today, but in their messages to you, Michael, Calum and Luke had explained that you were welcome to join the tour for as long as you’d like. It seemed silly, to feel so close to people who were virtually strangers, but they also felt like family, and you felt like you were ready to embrace something new.

The plan was to surprise Ashton after the show, because if you arrived beforehand, you knew he wouldn’t want to let you go when he was called to stage. You met Kat, the tour assistant, in the lobby, and she was so kind and warm that you felt immediately calmer in her presence. That was until the elevator doors opened onto the band’s floor, and she handed you a key card and wished you luck.

Fuck. This was happening. You’d just flown half way around the world to surprise someone that you were even officially in a relationship with. Who were you? It felt bizarre, and surreal, and so unlike you, but at the same time, something propelled your feet down the corridor. Your heart was pumping, and your hands were clammy, but your knock on the door was firm and strong. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply in the few moments you had to yourself before the door swung open, and Ashton stood in front of you for the first time in months.

Watching his reaction would’ve made you laugh, if you didn’t immediately start crying from the overwhelming sense of relief. He was confused, and then shocked, and then speechless, and then there was that smile. The smile that could power a thousand suns. He reached out his hands towards you, and when you took them he immediately pulled you into his arms. You were both whispering nonsense to each other, and clutching on for dear life, and breathing each other in like you’d had a lifetime apart.

“I’m so sorry it took me this long to come home to you.” This time, it was your turn to offer this apology to Ashton, who immediately shook his head before pressing his lips to yours softly. 

“Never apologise, my love. It could take all the time in the world, and I’d still be waiting for you just the same.” 

“Is now a good time to tell you I bought a one way ticket?” You said quietly, eyes darting up to meet Ashton’s gaze. He was looking at you incredulously, and you had a moment of panic about whether or not that was the right decision to have made.

“Are you kidding me? That’s the best fucking news I’ve heard in a long time.” 

There was that smile again, and more soft kisses, and being pulled into the hotel room with giggles and clashing limbs as Ashton tried to maneuver you and your belongings inside, as well as closing the door behind you both. 

A quick shower and a call down to room service for some late night pizza, and then you were settling in under the covers as the lack of sleep on the flights and all your hours of travel started to hit you. You were trying to stay awake, because you didn’t want to miss a moment, but Ashton could see right through you.

“Sleep, my love. I promise I’ll be here when you wake up tomorrow.” Ashton murmured, absentmindedly drawing small circles into your back as you settled into his chest with a yawn.

“You promise? How about the day after tomorrow?” You asked, cracking one eye open to glare at him in jest.

“The day after, and the day after, and every single day after that until you get sick of me, which will be never, because there’s no one in my life I’m more intertwined with, and it’s my favourite thing about the entire universe.” Ashton explained matter-of-factly, and it made your heart soar.

He reached over to switch off the bedside lamp, and you were bathed in darkness. Sleep overcame you quickly, and instinctively you found safety, and security, and wholeness in Ashton’s arms, as he found in yours. And all you needed was that moment, over and over again, forever. 

These arms would not be taught to need another's

'Cause we're the special two

Taglist: If there’s a line through your name, I couldn’t tag you, so please message me to let me know your new URL or what the go is!  @suchalonelysunflower @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @loveroflrh @spicycal @notinthesameguey @metalandboybands @cheekysos @ashton-trash  @another-lonely-heart @queenalienscherrypie  @becihadshawn  @allthestarsandthemoon​

[winchester-with-wings]

Agony

Patron Benefit Fanfic for @abbessolute​

Pairing:  Barry Allen x Reader with chronic pain

Author’s Notes:  Dedicated to Abby and her request for chronic pain comfort. Don't worry though, it's not all angst. Also included a gif request from Abby too! I lost the post it came from though. so I don’t own the gifs.

Summary/Request:    How does Barry handle someone with extreme pain.?

Word Count: 1100ish

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—————————————————

The pain. It stings. It burns. It's constant. But you live with it.

The doctors have done what they can, but it's not enough.

"We can manage the pain," they say, sticking you with needles.

You're numb, emotionally. It's a chronic condition and you live with it.

But Barry, he's new to this pain. Heartache? He's had plenty. But what can he do when you're hurting?

"I can't…I can't help her. I don't know what to do," he says to himself as much as he says to Caitlin. She's trying all types of cold temperature therapies she can come up with. If anything, the burning of ice on your flesh is a different kind of pain, a distraction.

You spend almost all of your time at home or STAR Labs. You're not running any marathons anytime soon, but otherwise, life is good. You have a wonderful group of friends surrounding you. You've found purpose with the team, something far greater and more important that you ever imagined. You have a place here. So perhaps it's just the price you pay. A little pain in return for saving people, saving the city.

But it's on one of your bad days that STAR Labs has an unwelcome visitor. You do your best to get to somewhere safe, pressing the panic button on your phone but a sonic blast from the villain's weapon sends you sliding across the floor.

Barry gets to the lab just in time to hear the last notes of your scream. With Caitlin's help, the villain is apprehended quickly. And while perhaps it would've been better for Caitlin to check on you, Barry comes to your side instead.

"Oh, god. What can I do? Y/N, please, tell me what to do? Where does it hurt?" he whimpers, yanking off his cowl. Your agony is mirrored in his face. Your shaking hand reaches for your back but you spasm and curl in on yourself before you can do much else.

Barry looks around but Caitlin is nowhere to be found. She must've taken their adversary to the Pipeline. Barry realizes that his hands are shaking from adrenaline, from panic. It only takes a second thought to send them into a different frequency, vibrating his hands.

"Maybe…maybe I could…" he murmurs as he rests his hands on your body. He turns you so that you lay flat and he presses those blurring hands to your abdomen until your body starts to hum along with him. You understand what he's trying to do. You've thought about it before but had never had the guts to ask. Your body feels warm and numb as it vibrates and you think--just maybe--the pain in your spine is dulling. But of course, how could it be that easy? Was Barry just going to reach into your body and straighten out the bones that caused this pain? The longer he vibrates your body, the more discordant the rhythm becomes and your back starts counteracting the unnatural motions. You can't help but scream. Barry removes his hands and the sharp pain is gone. Caitlin comes rushing in. She chastises him for only a moment for trying something like that.

A few tears have streaked down Barry's face, their path marked in the absence of dirt on his face from his recent fights. "I'm--I'm sorry, I thought…I thought I could help…oh god…please tell me I didn't make it worse," he pleads as Ralph picks you up and deposits you on a gurney in the lab. Caitlin sedates you only after administering a painkiller.

"I won't know until we run some tests."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Barry waits outside of the Cortex, clenching his fists and rubbing his knuckles until they're red. He'd never forgive himself if his misguided attempt at saving you made you worse. You didn't always talk about it and it wasn't always noticeable but he knew how your chronic pain made you feel. The idea of some sort of vibration helping you was an idea that he'd been tossing around in his head and he'd thought that moment no better than any other opportunity. But what if he'd caused irrevocable damage? He couldn't bear it.

Oliver is standing over Barry, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. He should've expected Oliver to show up at some point. You were a Star City native, you'd known Oliver longer than Barry even.

"You heard what happened?" Oliver is quiet. "Then you know it's my fault. It's all my fault. If I had even just gotten here sooner I could've stopped them from attacking Y/N," Barry grumbles, referring to the man now sitting in their pipeline. "I should've stopped him before he got here."

"Barry…you made a mistake, Barry," Oliver says, sitting next to him. "It's part of the job. You'll drive yourself crazy if all you ever think about is what if. You did what you thought you should do in that moment. That's all we could ask of you."

"But…" Barry wishes to reject Oliver's theory. It's all his fault! He could have crippled you! He wasn't a doctor. He'd been crazy to think his speed could heal you.

"Barry?" Caitlin asks for him, smiling at Oliver as a greeting. "Y/N wants to see you." He almost doesn't get up.

He can't help but feel the corner of his mouth turn up as he walks in and sees you in that bed. You're reading. Just reading as if it were just another morning in bed. He's glad to see you sitting up, even if it's at an angle. You look up from the words on the page to see Barry's remorse written all over his face. But you smile.

"Barry…" you reach out for him and he comes to your side. Oliver greets you as well, setting your flowers on a bedside table. "It's okay. I'm okay."

"I could've killed you," he says, resting his forehead on the back of your hand. He wouldn't dare let go.

"But you didn't. Barry…you…" you tug on your hand to get his attention, to get those green eyes to meet yours. "Barry, you helped me."

"What?" At first, he thinks you're simply talking about coming to your rescue but then he looks around the room, making eye contact with Caitlin. She's smiling.

"Barry, what you did…it was a huge risk…but it worked…I don't…feel anything anymore." He looks at your legs, misinterpreting you. "Nonono, what I'm saying is…whatever your did, it worked. My back…it doesn't hurt like before. It's still tender but it's the best kind of pain I've felt in a long time."

You're both crying at this point. "Thank you, thank you Barry. You saved me."

Of course more tests were needed but after a week's time, it had become clear that whatever frequency of vibration Barry had used it had positively affected your nerve endings and vertebrae.

Now the strongest feeling you felt every morning was gratitude. Gratitude, and love.

---------------------

Tagging: @abbessolute​​ @book-loving--anime-chick​​ @faithtrustandpixiedust95​​ @fabinapercabeth4179​​ @thinkwritexpress-official​​ @autoblocked​​ @therealcap​​ @mathle0matle​​ @whoopxd​​ @bookworm4ever99​​ @geeksareunique​​ @pottxrwolff​​​ @ravenhaviland​​​ @melaninspice11​​ @feelmyroarrrr​​ @karazoiel​ @barry-writes​ @clockblobber​ @softdudebro​ @parkerschurros​​ @woaahkelsey​​ @sanya-gryff​ @smutfornerds​ @fabinapercabeth4179​ @thinkwritexpress-official​ @ladylizzieofdarbyshire​​​ @barryallenfanfiction​

[funkyshortstories]

A Horror Story

This might end up revised/rewritten later, so if anyone has any advice or constructive critizism, that would be appreciated. Thanks!

Elijah and Sebastian lived in a very small village surrounded by countryside. Outside of the 55 people who lived there, there was no one else for miles. Nothing but forest. Elijah and Sebastian lived with their grandmother since their parents since their parents had died. Both boys were still fairly young, being only 17 and 14, Sebastian as the younger. One day, a sheep was found right in the field, torn to shreds. It was clearly something large, larger than a wolf, but none bothered to hunt the monster. It was just a sheep that had been killed.

The next day, two sheep were found torn apart much in the same way as the fist. Then another on the third day. After that, people began to get scared. Sheep were the only way to get wool, and the only way to get warm clothes as well. People began guarding the sheep at night, but the next day, a young girl was found dead, mauled. Sebastian had found the body, as he was going into the fields to find the sheep. There had been so much blood. Elijah remembered how he’d walked back into their shared bedroom and found Sebastian lying in bed, shaking like he’d caught a bad flu. It had been that moment when Elijah had decided to hunt the creature, be it a wolf, or something worse. Nothing was going to hurt innocent people, and nothing was going to scare his brother like that again.

The townspeople hunted the forest, but the boys’ grandmother wouldn’t let them hunt just the two of them, as they’d wanted to.

“You’ll get yourselves killed,” she’d insisted.

Finally, she allowed the boys to hunt, but only if they hunted with the rest of the town, and didn’t stay out after midnight.

The first night, both boys obeyed these rules, though Elijah protested slightly. “Come on! We’ll never find the monster if we stick with this lot! They’re too loud!”

“I’m not sure I want to find the monster,” said Sebastian softly.

The next night, despite starting with the rest of the townspeople, Elijah soon split off from the group. Sebastian, frightened of really finding the monster, or being killed by it, followed his brother hesitantly. They found no monster, but found tufts of fur and broken underbrush that showed something large had passed.

“We’ll find it tomorrow, Seb,” Elijah said excitedly. “I promise.”

“I’m not so sure I want to find it,” murmured Sebastian.

On the third night, yet again, both boys promised their grandmother that they would only hunt with the group, and wouldn’t stay out after midnight. By the end of the night, both of these promises would be broken.

Elijah split off from the group almost immediately, hardly one step into the forest before he began paving his own path. Sebastian followed in his brother’s footsteps hesitantly, frightened of what might leap out from the trees and the darkness. Both walked for what felt like hours, searching for any trace of the monster.  By the third hour, Sebastian was exhausted and shivering. Elijah just wouldn’t stop, he just kept walking deeper into the forest, shining the lantern all around.

“It’s close to midnight,” Sebastian said. “We should be heading home. Now.”

Elijah rolled his eyes. “We’re practically adults, being home by midnight is an arbitrary rule for children.”

Both continued walking.

Gradually, Sebastian noticed a soft creaking, like something was moving in the trees. Then, a lot of things happened all in the same minute. A sudden crack, and a branch fell from the trees above, nearly hitting Sebastian. He screamed. Elijah clapped a hand over Sebastian’s mouth. A shadowy, dark shape plunged from the trees abo vena d lunged for the boys. Elijah released Sebastian, and the monster lunged for Elijah specifically. Sebastian drew his knife, and ran towards the monster. The monster’s attention turned from Elijah to Sebastian, and three-inch-long claws swiped his chest.

Gasping, Sebastian slashed blindly with his knife. He heard a howl, like a wounded animal, and he hoped it was some sort of deadly wound. He fell to his knees, feeling blood beginning to ooze from his chest, then collapsed, staring up at the canopy of trees blankly, watching the branches sway in the wind. He heard his brother fighting the monster, and further howls of pain from the horrid thing, and then he heard nothing more for a long time.

Sebastian wakened to the late afternoon light shining through a window. His window. Someone must have brought him home.  He tried to sit up, and winced, falling back on his pillow. He lay, breathing, assessing how badly he was hurt just by how much his chest ached when he breathed.

There was a new noise then, a soft creak from the floorboard that was just outside his and Elijah’s room. The one that he and Elijah knew to step on to warn the other that they were coming in. Sebastian smiled. He’d missed his brother.

“Seb?” Elijah’s voice was soft, so gentle. “Are you awake? Do you want something to eat?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said, his voice barely a whisper. His throat was scratchy.

“Good.” Elijah moved to the bedside and set down a tray with a few things on it.  “I’d expect you to be hungry, you haven’t eaten anything for a day or so.”

He helped Sebastian to sit up, and propped him up with another pillow. “I’ve got some broth here, and some bread.”

He set the tray on Sebastian’s lap, and he immediately began eating.

“What happened?” Sebastian asked with his mouth full. “How long’s it been? Where’s Grandmother?”

Elijah laughed. “One question at a time, Seb.”

Sebastian finished chewing, and then asked, “What happened?”

“That thing sliced your chest into ribbons, but you’d hit the monster pretty good with your knife, so I was able to kill it. I left the body in the woods. Couldn’t drag it out while trying to get you out too. Got you to the doctor, made sure he treated you, and then got you back here.”

“Huh. You made even a story about killing a monster boring. Where’s Grandmother?”

“Not sure.” Elijah’s brows knit in concern. “I haven’t seen her since we got back, but I was a bit preoccupied making sure you didn’t bleed to death.”

Neither boy ever saw their grandmother again.

Sebastian went on to make a full recovery, and became an apprentice to the town carpenter. Elijah worked at the inn in town, doing odd jobs, cleaning, and cooking a bit. Both boys lived long, happy lives.

And out in the woods, a body was rotting away. After the monster was killed, the body changed back to its natural state, that of an old woman, grandmother to two boys in town by the names of Elijah and Sebastian

[hockeylvr59]

Life Changes Part 10 || Paul Bissonnette

Author's Note: So this one was tough for me because Paul’s head is a tough nut to crack so go easy on me. This is from his POV because I felt like we needed some insight as to where he stood in all of this because so far we’ve only see Leigh’s thoughts. Let me know what you think. We’re covering quite a bit of time fairly quickly now. In fact, there’s probably only 1 more chapter before the event everyone has been waiting for happens *hint hint*. Also, I updated the playlist for this story so feel free to go take a listen and let me know what you think and feel free to send me any songs that make you think of Leigh and Paul because I’d love to hear them. 

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no       Warnings: swearing      Word Count: 2,389

_________

Paul’s POV

“Only the wisest and stupidest of men never change.” 

Something had been different with Leigh since the awards but I couldn’t put my finger on what had changed or why. We still talked almost every day but where before she would be an open book, now it seemed like a glass wall was between us. Knowing that she would reach out if she needed me, I came to the conclusion that it was something to do with the pregnancy and tried not to dwell on it. 

Hopefully, this trip would make not dwelling a little easier. Thanks to some networking at the Awards and a little help from CCM, we’d finally landed our white whale for the podcast. And not only had we secured Crosby, but we’d also gotten MacKinnon as well. Having arrived in Nova Scotia yesterday, Whit and I were slotted to face off against the local duo in a round of golf, dinner on the line, before sitting down to record the interviews. 

It was a gorgeous June day on the course, and I was absolutely buzzing. This was potentially the best game of golf I’ve ever played in my life. But before we had even finished the front half of the course I was already being accused of being a sandbagger...fucking ridiculous. Nate was getting all sorts of worked up while Sid just laughed saying they’d have to wait and see what the back half brought. 

Needless to say, the second half didn’t go as well as the first...the damn yips taking over. Though we’d had the lead and secured dinner, for some reason Whit felt like giving the losers a second chance to redeem themselves so it was determined that we were only up 1 hole with two remaining. Whit came up just short for birdie leaving us square to start the 18th hole. 

Just as we reached the final tee, my phone rang, Leigh’s picture filling my screen. If it had been anyone else I would have ignored it but there was no way I could ignore her so I grabbed my phone and stepped slightly away as I answered. 

“What’s up?” I questioned. “We’re on the 18th hole with Sid and Nate.” Before she even responded I could hear the hitch in her breath and my heart raced with concern for why she would be crying, though lately, it didn’t take much to make her cry...pregnancy hormones. 

“I forgot.” She admitted, her watery voice cracking. 

“It’s fine. What’s up?” I repeated my question, my stomach twisting as I waited for her answer. 

“It’s a girl.” She whispered. Immediately my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest.

“What?” The word slipped out while my brain was rushing to process. 

“Dustbunny...she’s a girl.” I had totally forgotten that Leigh had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for today. Without even realizing it, tears had pooled in my eyes and I let out a shaky laugh as I tried to blink them away. Deep down I knew that she was hoping for a girl and so I knew just how much this news meant to her. 

“That’s incredible.” I finally managed my throat tight. “Congratulations.” Though the concept of her really having a baby had become more concrete for me in Vegas seeing her bump, now it really did feel real. In just a few months there would be this little human who looked like her mom hanging around and the thought of that was almost too much. 

With Whit calling my name from the course, I signaled for him to give me just a minute but it was clear that Leigh heard it and she murmured that I should get back to the game. But before she hung up she made one final statement. 

“You can tell the guys if you want. And uh...let them know I’ll make a public announcement in the next couple days but to keep it to themselves until then please.” 

“Course.” I murmured, my brain still operating mostly on autopilot as it worked over the news she’d just dropped on me. “I uh...I’ll talk to you and dustbunny later.” 

“Yeah.” She agreed. “Now go have fun.” She added just before the line went dead. Frantically I tried to pull myself together, wiping at my eyes and pocketing my phone.

It was my turn up at the tee and as I tried to focus, laughter came at me from all directions. Whether it was the laughter or the thought of Leigh and her daughter racing through my mind, as I swung at the ball I sliced it way left and the laughter took full force. 

“Fuck off okay,” I mumbled, moving to sit on a bench, my nails scraping over my scalp. 

“What the fuck was that?” Whit demanded. “You take one phone call and make the worst shot of the day?” There was nothing but silence as we made our way down to the green and as we waited for Sid to putt Whit looked over at me. “Everything okay?” He asked, voice calmer. “I’m assuming that was Leigh.” 

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Everything’s good.” Whit looked at me skeptically before taking his turn and after sinking his putt for the win he paused. 

“Okay, Biz...spill.” He stated, leaning against his club. “You’ve been all hyped up all day and now you’re quiet. What was that call about?” 

“She’s having a girl.” I breathed, tossing my club back in the bag before reaching for a bottle of water to try and calm my still racing heart down. 

“Who’s having a girl?” Nate inquired, clearly confused by the statement. 

“Leigh. Our business manager.” Whit explained. “That’s awesome, I’m sure she’s over the moon.” 

“Wait...she’s pregnant?” Sid asked, having obviously paid no mind to her growing bump when they met just a week or so ago. 

“Yeah. It’s complicated.” I expressed. “And she is over the moon. She was crying over the phone.” I added, once again scratching my head. It was left unspoken, but not unnoticed by Whit that I had been crying over the news too and we made our way over to a little cafe to record both interviews, my mind gradually refocusing as I focused back in on hockey and the world surrounding it. 

~~~

It wasn’t until we were a few drinks into a delicious dinner courtesy of Sid and Nate that Leigh was brought up as conversation again. 

It had happened casually, Sid inquiring as to what we had upcoming for the podcast. Whit went into a ramble on the secret project we’d been working on for months, a Pink Whitney vodka, and how we had a launch party for that planned for Labor Day weekend. Then RA brought up how each of us was working to pick up some of the management job duties so that Leigh could have a proper maternity leave when the time arose. That triggered Nate inquiring about the whole baby thing and I quickly had to vaguely explain that Leigh wasn’t with the baby’s father and that we were close friends because she’d been with me in Arizona when she found out. 

We’d just downed another round of drinks when Whit threw the first real punch. 

“So Biz….when are you going to tell her you’re in love with her?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...we’re just friends.” I lied, doing everything I could to keep my facial expressions neutral. 

“That’s bullshit and everyone else can see it besides the two of you.” He tossed back. “You look at her like she’s the goddamn stanley cup. I haven’t seen you even look at another woman in months. If you aren’t talking about work you’re talking about Leigh and the baby so stop playing. You’re in love with her.” 

If it weren’t for the drinks I’d already consumed I probably wouldn’t have admitted to anything. But with the drinks, I felt my palms start to sweat and my filter let a few too many thoughts slip through. 

“Of course I love her,” I mumbled. “She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s absolutely stunning, and she has one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen. She’s handled everything thrown at her with far more grace than I ever could have and she’s going to be an absolutely incredible mom.” Downing the rest of my last drink I sighed heavily. “But we’re just friends and it’s going to stay that way.” 

“So you love her and you obviously love her baby...what’s the fucking problem?” Whit pushed. 

“The problem is that she deserves more. Better.” At those words, every head at the table turned to look at me. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” RA questioned, his tone brusque. 

“It means that she could do so much better than me. I don’t exactly have the best reputation with women or in general. She deserves someone that can match her in intelligence and who won’t fucking stain her name with his own. She deserves someone who isn’t mentally fucked up...who doesn’t experience episodes where he can barely take care of himself let alone her and the baby. She deserves stability.” 

After spilling out all of the reasons why friends was all we were ever going to be, I expected some resistance, what I didn’t expect was Whit to bust out laughing at me. Glaring at him I clenched my jaw and he just shook his head. 

“You’re a fucking moron Paul. You’re making excuses as to why you aren’t good enough for her and she’s making excuses as to why she’s not good enough for you when in reality you’re perfect for each other.” 

“What are you talking about?” I pressed, swirling the ice in my glass aimlessly. 

“I’m talking about the fact that she told Brie she didn’t think that you’d ever even have sex with her because she’s not your type. She minimizes anything you feel for her proclaiming that it’s just the baby you’re attached to. She thinks that all you’d ever want to be is Uncle Paul so how could you possibly want to pursue more when a relationship with her would come with the baggage of a baby that’s not yours. She’s just as insecure as you are….but I guarantee you that the way you’re shaking your head about the things she’s worried about would be the same way she’d react to the things you’re worried about.” 

It baffled me to think that Leigh thought I wouldn’t want her. At the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder if that expression meant that she actually did want me. For a while, conversation traveled back to less serious topics but before we headed back to the hotel for the night Whit pulled me aside one more time. 

“Look I get you have your own concerns and that you’re worried about unnecessarily dumping something else onto her plate but don’t let either of those fears keep you from something that could be great. Now may not be the right time, but I’ve seen the two of you together and you both bring out the best parts of each other...so just be patient and things will work out like they’re supposed to.” 

It wasn’t until I was settled into bed that I was able to watch the ultrasound video Leigh had sent me. Between that and dinner’s conversation, the moment that I closed my eyes, too many thoughts, thoughts of Leigh and the baby she was carrying, filled my mind making sleep impossible. Was it really possible that she felt the same way I did? Did I want to play a role more than Uncle in this baby’s life? Was she ready to move on after having her heart crushed not once, not twice, but three times? 

~~~

Just like she had said, Leigh dropped her pregnancy announcement as we were leaving Nova Scotia. Swiping through the photos I couldn’t help but be mesmerized at the way her bump had grown in the short time since I’d seen her last. She was very obviously pregnant now and though her photos only barely showed her face it was easy to see how much pregnancy suited her and how she was glowing because of it. 

Unsurprisingly the announcement garnered some attention both positive and negative. There were people both in her personal life and around the league that were absolutely thrilled for her. Then there were people that had very much jumped to conclusions as she expected they would and though there really wasn’t anything I could do, I was angry that I couldn’t protect her from their harsh words and suspicions. If I thought she’d let me, I’d chew out every idiot on the internet but deep down I knew that kind of attention would only make things worse. Instead, I focused on distracting her away from that content, asking questions about her plans for a nursery while trying to hide the feelings that were getting harder and harder to suppress.  

By the time her birthday arrived in the second week of July, I was determined to do something special for her. Though we were once again on opposite sides of the country I had been planning for her birthday since we left Vegas. In addition to sending flowers, I’d booked her a pregnancy massage session hoping to help alleviate some of the aches and pains she’d been complaining of. It didn’t seem like much to me but when she called after her appointment raving over how much better she felt, it was evident that my gesture was appreciated. Though I didn’t generally make posts for others on their birthdays, I felt compelled to share a few photos of the woman who had brightened my life up just by being a part of it. It was a little sappy but if anyone deserved it, it was her. 

Though we talked almost daily and her selfies came more frequently as dustbunny continued growing, I still found myself counting the days until I would see her in person next. And to be frank, it couldn’t come soon enough. I was completely screwed...but to be honest there was a part of me that knew that the moment I first laid eyes on her. 

Chapter 10 Social Media:

[dearsherlocked]

Fallen - A Sherlock Imagine

Hi! This is a series that I’ve been writing for quite some time now. I’ve revisited and revisited themes and characters over and over, and I could not face up posting it. But I think it is time I share a little bit of this work just for my sake. Here are the two first parts. There is more to follow! 

Summary: Five years after The Final Problem, Sherlock Holmes has been bored out of his mind. Having a hard time to teal with trauma and a less hectic lifestyle, he’s feeling like he is rotting away. That is until some very interesting case present itself and reveals to be intrinsically linked to him. Chasing after an assassin through London, he suddenly has to face who he really is. 

Pairings: Sherlock x Reader/Sherlock Holmes x John Watson

Warnings: At the moment, none, but might lead to smut. ;)

NOTA: My first language remains French. If there are inconsistencies, I am deeply sorry! 

Masterlist

The gusty wind pushed violently against the windows, causing a din in the small room in a central London’s flat. The night was already well underway, the reflections of the moon pierced the half-open curtains, illuminating the room with immaculate streaks. Inside, Sherlock Holmes’ face was tense. In his bed, lying on his back, his head tilted to the side as he murmured in his sleep. His eyes moved under the thin eyelids. He saw them, these two icy, impenetrable blue eyes, staring back at him, while the hands of his assailant aggressively surrounded his neck. He felt his lungs emptying as he struggled for breath. He felt suddenly euphoric; he was no longer breathing and he let himself go in this sea of uncertainty, lulled by the sweet feeling of an imminent death. Finally, his eyes opened and his irises increased. He was suffocating and his hands were shaking. Paralyzed, he lay in the same position for a moment. Then, when he regained his senses, he straightened up against the head of his bed, switched on the bedside lamp to his right and rested his head on the cool bedhead. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, then glanced furtively at the half-open drawer of his bedside table. He had to resist, he told himself, he couldn't spend his time running away from his thoughts and memories. He snapped the drawer shut and sighed heavily. Outside, London was still asleep.

Sherlock woke up suddenly later in the morning. He fixed the ceiling for a few minutes, paralyzed by the haunting images that took assault his dreams. He inspired slowly and scrutinized his surroundings. His mornings looked pretty much alike: he woke up whenever he pleased and his waking hour depended on the time he had gone to bed the night before, if he had gone to bed at all. Once awake, he usually struggled to stay in place in the large space that was his mattress. The room felt too quiet. He did not need to take a look at the watch he had left on the bedside table, nor had to open the curtains to guess the time of the day; he usually had an idea of the hour just by simply analyzing the ambient sound of the city outside. For instance, if the noise of the honking horns sounded steadily, he knew that the rush hour was at its height. On the contrary, if everything seemed too calm, he guessed that he was still finding himself at the hour of grace, when London, still asleep at dawn, was just beginning to move. At last, sometimes he could speculate that it was already past breakfast time: Mrs Hudson was already on the lookout, making as much clatter as she could, pretending to do some housekeeping in order to get him out of an unworthy sloth for a man of his age. 

That morning, Sherlock knew that the kettle that the landlady had left on purpose in the living-room table was cold. He sighed; he never liked to sleep, felt that napping was a total inconvenience and a fatality. But he had been bored out of his mind lately and sleeping was a good stretch out between the long hours of agony that had become his banal existence. He took his time to sweep out of the warm sheets and laid his feet on the cold wooden floor. He took a few minutes to enjoy the contact of the ground under his naked toes. He then scanned the room carefully; the pale hue of the day struggled to break through the dense curtains and dust particles floated through its glow. He took a deep breath and exhaled, shook his hair vigorously, putting in place some of the dark curls that had rebelled on his head during the night. He slipped on the clothes he had been preparing the night before and threw a quick shot in the mirror, replaced some curls again, slipped on his watch and headed for the living room. His first reflex was to grab the papers that Mrs Hudson always left beside the kettle. He peered out the main lines of the news, being about the only thing he enjoyed nowadays, and lost himself for a while. As he peered out the main lines of the news, his phone vibrated in his coat. He looked at it and smiled widely. 

It was a beautiful day; London seemed to be straight out of a golden-looking postcard. Sherlock stopped in front of the imposing building that housed the Diogene’s Club. First hesitant at the bottom of the stairs, he scowled and climbed the steps with a determined pace, trying to pull himself together. Inside, John Watson was leaning against the large wooden wall, a take-out coffee in his left hand. When he saw his friend, the doctor walked in his direction and smiled. ‘Still drinking that dirty water they dare to call coffee?’ Sherlock teased, walking with John in the long hall. ‘Each time I think it can’t possibly get worse,’ replied the doctor with an amused tone. ‘And yet each time you’re disappointed. You don’t learn.’ They stopped in front of the elevator doors. ‘Where’s mine?’ enquired the detective. John scoffed. ‘I didn’t bring you one.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Because each time I do and each time you spit it out and say it’s disgusting.’ ‘It is disgusting.’ ‘Then why would you want one?’ ‘Because now I look empty-handed’, replied Sherlock as they got out of the elevator. John observed his friend walking before him and shook his head. They stopped in front of a part-closed door. Mycroft’s office. They could hear him talking and he sounded concerned. ‘What is it today you think?’ enquired John. ‘No idea.’ ‘Is it another political scandal?’ ‘God, please no. We’ve had enough of these.’ ‘I have no idea what we are doing here,’ sighed John, annoyed. ‘Drinking crap coffee and waited to be called by his Holiness’, replied Sherlock. John scoffed as Mycroft opened the door. ‘I thought I heard voices.’ ‘Then you should consult, Mycroft.’ Sherlock said as he entered the office. He walked directly to sit in his brother’s chair. Mycroft sighed and looked at him, exasperated. ‘Thank you for coming on such short notice,’ started Mycroft. ‘You didn’t give us much choice,’ replied John, sitting in front of Sherlock. ‘I was with my daughter, it’s Sunday.’ ‘Aren’t you always with her?’ ‘That is sort of what parents are supposed to do, taking care of their child,’ answered John, placing his cup on the desk and crossing his arms in front of his chest. ‘Well, I am glad we sorted it out,’ replied Mycroft with a disinterested smile. He turned away to the fourth person in the room. The stranger looked quite ordinary and was about the same age as Mycroft. He was dressed in a posh suit and his salt and pepper beard gave him a severe expression. He looked overall not impressed. ‘This is Darius White, head of the foreign desk’, said Mycroft, pointing to the stoic man. ‘Oh hello,’ replied John, extending his hand. The man stayed in his seat and barely acknowledged the doctor. ‘And this is my brother, Sherlock Holmes,’ added Mycroft. Sherlock waved impatiently. He never was one for introductions. ‘Shall we begin?’ asked the older Holmes, walking to close the door behind them. Darius White nodded and turned at John. ‘Good morning gentlem – ‘ A noise cut him mid-sentence. Sherlock just had taken a sip of John’s coffee and spat it out noisily on Mycroft’s desk, staining the many papers accumulated on the surface. John frowned and looked at his friend, both amused and annoyed at the same time. Mycroft, on the other hand, rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. ‘Sorry, do please continue’ murmured Sherlock, not bothered at all. ‘There has been an assassination of a member on a prolific CEO yesterday.’ ‘Who?’ asked John, suddenly intrigued. Mycroft slid a photograph over John. John gave the photograph to Sherlock. ‘He was not very liked by his pairs,’ added Darius White. ‘Doesn’t make it easy to circumscribe the potential suspects.’ Mycroft cleared his throat. ‘Yesterday, Lennox Burton got out of a meeting at five in the morning, there had been some important transactions during the night. His driver took him home where he was supposed to rest for a couple of hours before returning at his office for a lunch meeting. The driver came back at Burton’s penthouse around noon but as his boss wasn’t answering his calls or coming down, he used his emergency key to enter the penthouse and that’s when he discovered Burton’s body.’ Mycroft pushed another picture to John. Lennox Burton was spread on the floor with what appeared to be a sea of blood around him. He switched on to the next picture, it was a close-up autopsy photograph of the wound: a perfectly horizontal and clean cut on the neck. ‘Neat’, whispered Sherlock. John shook his head. ‘Did somebody see anything?’ he asked. ‘Was there any CCTV in the surrounding areas?’ ‘Evidently not,’ replied Mycroft. ‘Whoever was being the attack managed to alter it.’ ‘So,’ cut Sherlock. ‘It was premeditated.’ ‘Naturally.’ ‘And you want me to find who killed him?’ ‘Quite so.’ Sherlock frowned. ‘But there’s more,’ he thought out loud, staring at his brother. ‘There have been in fact about four similar killings in the past month’, added Darius White. ‘And you think they are related?’ intervened John. ‘Evidence points that way.’ ‘These aren’t just random murders,’ laughed Sherlock. Darius White chuckled. Sherlock Holmes was quick indeed. ‘The first three murders were committed on criminals. Sex-traffickers, drug-dealers, mostly,’ he replied.  ‘But this murder is different,’ observed Sherlock, ‘it was committed on an apparently respectable man.’ ‘Are you sure they were killed by the same person?’ interrupted John. ‘Well, we will need to know for certain. This is why we called you, gentlemen,’ replied Darius White solemnly. ‘I will need to see Mr Burton’s house of course,’ declared Sherlock. ‘I will text you the details,’ said Mycroft. ‘I guess Scotland Yard is involved?’ ‘Already there, brother mine. As usual.’ Sherlock stood up, quickly followed by John. As they exited the office, they heard the grave voice of Darius White advising Mycroft to insist on the confidentiality of this case.

[tinteacosplay]

Alternative scene Stardust crusaders episode 48: Joseph comes back to life

Writers note: Hello! I’ve had this on my mind ever since I finished part 3! Did it on free spirit and felt like rewriting something. It’s definitely more angsty and focused on how Jotaro would feel as an actual 17 year old would. You know, with a temper and such things as emotions (yes I’m breaking the law of jojo) I felt soft so here you have more of an emotional ending to this scene :) 

“His eyes! he opened his eyes!” gasped one of the Speedwagon foundation doctors.  

“We did it! He’s back!” shouted the other. 

But before Jotaro could take in the good news he saw something happen to the old man's eyes. They had turned red! and his body had been surrounded by a purple force. 

“Jiji?” uttered Jotaro with new fear welling up inside him.

Joseph didn’t respond but tilted his head to the side. He saw the machine that had transferred Dio’s blood into him and got an evil winkel in his eye. All the hoses suddenly were dragged out of place, the machine poured blood and the old man started to move. 

With pure shock Jotaro and the doctors saw Joseph sit up on the bed with the evil wink in his eyes, murmuring, or was it laughter? 

“You're a fool, Jotaro!” Joseph said triumpendly.  

“-Don’t freaking tell me…” Jostaro said, feeling him shake with new adrenaline bringing up his guard once more surrounding himself yet again with yellow force. 

Ripping off his breathing mask Joseph continued with a smug face, “You’re single-handedly resurrected yours truly!” 

That’s when Jotaro’s heart took a skip. Losing his temper quicker than ever he forced himself to forget who he was about to fight by summoning Star Platinum. “You bastard!”  

“Wait Jotaro! I’m kidding! Kidding...Just kidding!” cried a voice sounding far too close to the real Joseph Joestar. “Just kidding! It was a joke!” 

Jotaro stopped dead track in his position hearing the familiar tone in his voice. The sudden halt made him twitch but he didn’t take his eyes off the old man, he stared at him blankly. Jotaro wasn’t convinced. Joseph went on with his arms flying in front of him in some sort of defence, probably without noticing. 

“I’m sorry! I was only messing with you.” he said followed with a swooshing sound, a sound that comes when hitting hollow metal, soured through the air. A sparkling tentacle-like purple rope with thorns came out of the old man's body. “I swear it’s me!” 

Jotaro stood his ground yet he glowed with a yellow force, meaning he yet wasn’t completely convinced. Dio could have figured out how to use hermit purple and was now trying to act all innocent. He was putting up a good show being very accurate to the old man's character, but yet plotting something in the meantime.

What had Joseph concerned was how Jotaro’s arm still was in the air and that he hadn't moved a muscle despite him showing his stand. The older man kept babble feverishly, big eyed saying information about Joseph. 

“Joseph Joestar. Born september 27th 1920. Husband of Suzie q. Oh, I-I collect comics as a hobby!” 

Jotaro’s eyes were squinting at the old man for a long time but after the last sentence was spoken he looked like he was considering the information. Jotaro’s face was barely detectable, therefore Joseph kept his position with arms in front of his face, not daring to breathe or move.

“Who was the leading actress in the 1981 film Tarzan, the ape man?” Jotaro asked with a awfully stable voice. 

“Bo Derek'' Joseph responded, locking eyes with Jotaro. Joseph, sure of his answer, slowly lowered his defence. He picked up pretty quickly what Jotaro was going for. 

“Who sang ´eat it´ in the spoof of ´beat it´?” 

“Weird AI” Yankovic” 

“Good grief… I guess it is you” Jotaro said with a hit of disappointment in his tone, straightening up. “Only you would know pointless crap like that.” 

As soon as Joseph saw the yellow aura disappear from Jotaro he could breathe again. He hovered over loosening up the tension that had been built up in the room. There was a pause where everyone took a chance to breathe and try to absorb what had just happened.  

“We’ve taken back what is ours, Dio.” Jotaro whispered to himself. Letting his guard down he came to realise how tired he was, and that his legs had started to give up on him. 

The driver had caught up to some extent to what happened in the back and informed the other Speedwagon foundation car that Joseph Joestar had awakened and was alive. That it all was a miracle. 

Jotaro didn’t know how to react after Joseph had pranked him, that he had to get all worked up again when he physically wasn’t able to. It had a price. He wanted to punch the old man for being so reckless, but he couldn’t. All the emotions from the fight with Dio were mixed with the fact of knowing the old man was alive. Out of habit Jotaro tried to put all of it behind his facade, which had begun to crack. His stress levels had reached its limit and it showed through his shaky hands. If it had been visible for anyone yet, he wouldn’t know. The truth was he barely could remain on his feet while calling the doctors to clear out. In a tremendous effort he took one or two steps towards the old man's bed before collapsing. He couldn’t care less what Joseph would think of him, he had used up all his remaining strength.

For Joseph to see his grandson like this was like being slapped in the face. An incredible amount of shame showered over him as he was completely taken aback by the sudden downfall. But His reflections didn’t fail him. Instinctively Joseph reached out and caught the limb Jotaro in a tight embrace. 

“Oh my- I’m so sorry..hey” 

That’s when he heard a sound from a rare past, a memory from a long time ago. It was barely detectable, but since it was only the two of them and the car noises from outside, he couldn’t have mistaken it for something else. A quiet whimper.  “Jotaro...“

Writers note PS: If you like me to write more one shots or hcs requests are open, anything for jojo part 1-4 works fine. I’ll might do a rules list pretty soon

[secret-kkh-fics]

History Repeats | Chapter 2

Due to this not being posted anywhere else yet, please like and DON’T REBLOG my fics. 

Chapter Summary:

Rose finds herself back at the start of her journey. It’s overwhelming to see the Doctor again, in that old face. And she’s not sure she can act normal enough for him to not become suspicious. The bigger issue is, can she keep the right balance of acting like she doesn’t know what will happen and acting enough to change things?

Author Note:

This one was fun to rewrite. I wanted to try and make it a little more different from the original script, rather than almost line for line. I get a little bit of that, but plan to change things more and more with each chapter. And again, I feel like I managed to write this so much better this time around.

Rose

Back to the Beginning

Rose could feel the TARDIS with her as her mind twirled and tumbled and fell through the Void and space and time. She felt it all pass by her in a rush of familiar energy. She could feel it as they ripped through the walls in the universes and back through. For a moment, she felt the warm, familiar safety of the TARDIS around her, though it felt… wrong. But she was quickly pulled from there and pulled back through time. Her mind twinged in pain as she was surrounded by the golden energy. She spun faster and faster, and finally, with a jolt she slammed back into her body.

She felt… different.

She became aware that she was running, and as her consciousness took control, she jolted to a stop just in the doorway of the TARDIS. She was panting slightly, her body unfit and unused to running so much. That was the first thing that she noticed, how different her body felt. Healthier, but younger and softer, a little weaker than it had been after all she had gone through.

The next thing she noticed was the shift in her own mind. It was like she had become an odd mix of old and new. Her old views and ideals mixed and adapted with the ones she now held. Any extra cynicism she had developed in the last few years melted away as she gained the optimism of being a young girl on the start of an adventure.

Three years wasn’t very long, but she had changed quite a lot.

She still had all her memories, all her feelings, and mindset from the last three years. She even had the same open mindedness, her willingness to accept the weird and strange, and her determination to do anything for the Doctor. But it was like it was all so new again.

She hadn’t taken over her nineteen-year-old self, she had become some strange blend of the two. She was still her, only more than she had been before. It was a strange concept that she could never hope to put into words. Even her thoughts weren’t doing a good enough job. The feeling was indescribable.

…In English at any rate. She idly wondered if there was a word for it in Gallifreyan. The Doctor had once told her that being a time travelling, telepathic race, there were a lot of words they had to describe things that other civilisations just didn’t. He’d told her how all their pronouns were gender neutral, since people could change genders in regeneration, and how they had neutral tenses as well, since when dealing with time travel, something could have happened, be happening, or would happen. If they had one word to cover three different tenses, and words to describe the feeling of connecting minds, they probably had a word for this too.

 She was interrupted from her musings when she felt a gentle, familiar presence nudging at the back of her mind. It felt safe and warm… a lifeline and friend. The TARDIS hummed to her reassuringly. She brushed against her mind, and Rose got the impression that she was wishing her luck.

This drew her thoughts back to the present – past… okay, those Gallifreyan words would really come in handy right now. A smile formed on her face as she gazed around the console room in wonder. The familiar sight of the corral strutted room almost brought tears to her eyes. She took a moment to bask in its aqua glow, ecstatic to be back in the home she never thought she would see again… She was home. She was back home again! And even more incredible, was the man dashing around the console in a way that was just so, so achingly familiar.

Seeing him, seeing her Doctor was enough to steal her breath away, but it wasn’t just her Doctor, it was her old Doctor. Her Doctor with short cropped hair, large ears, stunning blue eyes and a leather jacket. It was all she could do not to run to him and hold him and never let him go.

“Don’t worry, it won’t follow us,” he told her in his Northern accent, not looking back at her. “The assembled hoard of Genghis Khan couldn’t get through those doors, and believe me, they’ve tried.” He attached the head of the plastic Mickey to the console. “You see, the arm is too simple, but the head’s perfect. I can use it to trace the signal back to the original source.” He ran about for a few more seconds, doing his thing, before he stopped. “Right,” she suddenly cried, finally turning to face her. “Where do you want to start?”

He looked at her expectantly, and she realised that he was waiting for her to comment on how alien everything was. How many people had come aboard the TARDIS and exclaimed that it was bigger on the inside? How many times had he introduced humans to his way of life and loved every moment as they took it all in in wonder? …Had anyone else done that since she’d left?

“Well, it could be a bit bigger in here,” she teased.

“Oi!” he cried indignantly. “She is just the right size, thank you very much.”

“Hmm… No, yeah, I agree, even if she is a little smaller on the outside.” The Doctor looked at her in bewilderment at the reversed statement. The expression on his face almost made her burst out laughing. She did feel a little guilty about calling the TARDIS ‘it’, knowing full well that she was alive, but a small hum in her mind let her know that the TARDIS understood. “It’s alien. And so are you,” she said adamantly.

“Yes,” he told her with a smile. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah!” she grinned. “It’s fantastic. Brilliant. Molto bene!”

“It’s called the TARDIS, this thing,” he informed her. “T-A-R-D-I-S, that’s Time and Relative Dimensions in Space.” Rose could no longer hold back the joyful sob that had been building up inside her for the last few minutes. This was all just too good to be true. Surely, she had to be dreaming. “It’s okay,” he said, misunderstanding her ‘distress’. “Culture shock. Happens to the best of us.”

“Are you kidding me? This is brilliant!” she cried. And suddenly, she launched herself at him, taking him in a suffocating hug. The Doctor stood there in utter shock and bewilderment, his arms held out from his sides awkwardly as she held onto him.

“Err…” he murmured uncertainly. He hesitated only a moment longer before shrugging and wrapping his arms around her comfortingly, one of his hands patting her on the back in a sort of ‘there, there’ gesture.

Rose grinned madly until she peeked over his shoulder and saw the head of the plastic Mickey bubbling and leaking some sort of fluid. “Ah, Doctor… Mickey’s melting,” she told him.

“What?” he said, still rather surprised from the hug and confused by that she meant. “Melt?” She let him go, turned him around, and pointed to the melting blob. “Oh, no, no, no, no, NO!” he cried, rushing over to it. He frantically ran around the console, pressing buttons and pulling levers. Rose had to try her hardest not to laugh at the sight. She hadn’t realised till now quite how much she had really missed this… Missed him. “The signal’s fading!” he shouted. “Wait… I’ve got it… No, no, no, no, no!” The TARDIS began to shake as she moved, and Rose clung to a coral pillar and smiled. “Almost there! Almost there! Here we go!” The second they landed, she opened the door and he ran out past her. And still smiling, she followed. “I lost the signal. I got so close!” he whined.

“Right, so… I’m guessing the rest of Mickey’s body melted with the head, yeah?” she asked. She already knew the answer, but she had to question these things or she knew he’d get suspicious. The Doctor was very perceptive, and she was going to have a difficult time acting as if everything was normal. Why couldn’t she just tell him?

“Yes,” he said in a hard voice.

“And there’s a chance that he’s still alive, right?”

“He could be, but I’m a little too busy to worry about some kid called Mickey!” he grumped. Rose rolled her eyes. She’d forgotten how moody and condescending he had been at the start.

“He’s not a kid,” she insisted.

“Look!” he yelled, more in frustration than anything. “I’m too busy trying to save the life of every stupid ape blundering on top of this planet, alright?”

“Alright?!” she cried. It had been ages since she’d heard him say that, and she had forgotten how much it had irked her.

“Yes! It is!” he snapped.

“We’re not ‘stupid apes’, and Mickey is just as important as everyone else! You sanctimonious, annoying Ti- Ugh! Alien!” she shouted at him. She only just managed to catch herself in time before she accidentally called him a Time Lord. She’d only just found out he was an alien, she shouldn’t know what he was yet. The Doctor just looked at her in bewilderment. She shook her head and took a deep breath. She didn’t want to fight with him, but the younger part of her still wanted to struggle against how horrible he had been to Mickey. She needed to lighten the mood. Thankfully, her younger side’s curiosity gave her a reminder of something that would be one of her favourite jokes. “So, if you’re an alien, home come you sound like you’re from the North?”

“Lots of planets have a North,” he said defensively, crossing his arms and standing in his favourite broody pose.

How to soften him up…? Once upon a time, it had been that just a smile from her would make him give in, but it was far too early for that now. What was something he cared enough that she could talk about, that wasn’t an obvious attempt at a distraction? …The TARDIS.

“What’s a Police Phone Box?”

“It’s a telephone box from the 1950’s.” He grinned, patting the TARDIS fondly. “It’s a disguise.”

Rose giggled and shook her head at his goofy grin. There was the Doctor she loved. “Yeah, fix the chameleon circuit, then it will be a disguise,” she muttered.

“What?”

“This living plastic,” she said quickly, “what’s it got against us?”

“Nothing, it loves you,” he told her. “You’ve got such a good planet. Lots of smoke and oil, plenty of toxins and dioxins in the air… perfect! Just what the Nestene Consciousness needs. Its food stock was destroyed in the war, all its protein planets rotted, so Earth… dinner!”

“And how are we going to stop it? Anti-plastic?” she said sarcastically. She smirked at him, knowing that was exactly what he intended to do.

“Yep!” He grinned.

“Seriously?” She acted taken aback.

“Ah-ha, Anti-plastic!”

“Anti-plastic…”

“Anti-plastic!” he cried again. “But first I’ve got to find it. How can you hide something that big in a city this small?” He started to walk over to the bridge to look out over the Themes.

“What, the transmitter?”

“Yeah. It’ll be round and massive, slap bang in the middle of London.” He turned around to face her, agitation written across his face, the London Eye looming up behind him. “A huge circular metal structure… like a dish… like a wheel. Close to where we’re standing. Must be completely invisible!”

Rose tried not to giggle at the sight of her beloved 'daft faced' Doctor standing obliviously before the London Eye. Instead she just raised an eyebrow and nodded for him to turn around.  He did so, completely missed it, and turned back around.

“What?” he said obliviously.

“For a genius, you sure can be thick!” she laughed. The Doctor frowned in an almost pouting manor, then looked around and back again.

“What?” He looked again, but still missed it, making Rose giggle loudly. How could he that oblivious?! “What is it? Why are you laughing? What?!” he exclaimed. When she only continued to giggle and point out behind him, he turned around for the fourth time and it finally clicked. “Oh… Fantastic!”

In the next second, he had grabbed her hand and they were running across the bridge. The feel of his large, comfortable, familiar hands nearly brought tears to her eyes. She had missed this so much.

Yet, at the same time, she felt a little guilty, because she felt rather hollow knowing that they weren’t the long, slender fingers she longed to twine hers through. Was that wrong? Missing someone who was right beside you, just because they were different?

She loved this Doctor, she really did. She loved him just as much as the man he would become. And she would miss him when he was gone. She knew she would, and she knew just how much she would. It was only a year… She only had a year with him until he regenerated and that was such a short time. Someday soon, he would change into the man she utterly and completely loved with every part of her being and soul.

So, she made the decision right there and then. She was going to make the best of the time she had with this him. She would cherish every moment with him and make the most of it all. Love every smile, every laugh, every word, do all the things they possibly could.

When he changed, she would have no regrets.

When they got to the base of the Eye, the Doctor began to look around for an entrance.

“Think of it,” he called out to her. “Plastic, all over the world. Every artificial thing waiting to come alive. The shop window dummies, the phones, the wires, the cables…”

“The breast implants,” she joked. It was loud enough that the Doctor looked up at her, startled, then rolled his eyes and went back to his search. Of course, having done this before, Rose knew roughly where the entrance was. She went over to the edge of the wall where she knew the manhole was and looked around for it.

“Where are you going?” he asked her.

“Well, it’s not like the Big-Bad-Plastic-Thingy is gonna be as obvious as the transmitter, is it?” she teased. “It’s gotta be hiding, yeah?”

Internally she winced. Was she acting too familiar with him? Was it too soon to be this cheeky? The way she acted around him was habit, and she couldn’t exactly turn it off. But was she acting too conspicuous?

“Exactly!” He grinned happily at her, going over to where she was standing. “I was just looking for something.” She could hear the surprise and approval in his voice, much like the now rather fresh memory of him congratulating her on her ‘student’ theory.

“Great minds think alike,” she said to him with a grin.

“Yeah, you wish your mind was this great!” he teased.

“Rude!” she laughed. “Anyway, I was thinking down there.” She pointed to the manhole. And he looked down, grinning widely when he spotted it.

“Fantastic!”

And soon, they were down there, using the sonic-screwdriver to open it. Yet again, she found herself grinning ecstatically at the sound of something so familiar. It was funny how a lot of the things she missed were the little things, like the sound of the TARDIS or the Sonic or the way the TARDIS moved.

And then they were in. Red steam billowed up to meet them, and together they jumped down and descended a few stairs. Their eyes were instantly drawn to a large vat of burning, boiling orangey… stuff. One could have mistaken it for lava or molten metal if it wasn’t moving so strangely.

“The Nestine Consciousness. That’s it, inside the vat,” the Doctor said, nodding down to it. “A living plastic creature.”

Rose vaguely remembered the first time she had seen it. She didn’t quite see how it could have been an alien and for a moment the idea had passed through her head that despite all the evidence about aliens, he was a bit barmy. But she had been willing to believe him based on the ominous stirring in the vat, the curiosity and thrill of the adventure, and the fact that she already trusted the Doctor. But now, with all her experience, there was no way to mistake that it was alien. How could it not be?

She also remembered that the Doctor had snapped at her when she told him to hurry up and kill it so they could leave. That had been what she thought he was going to do, since he had the anti-plastic and it was so dangerous. But now, despite the fact she knew the Nestine’s intentions, she also knew that she was better than that now. This was her chance to change things. There was always the chance that it would change its mind this time, if things didn’t go wrong.

“Alright, let’s go and tell it to leave this planet alone,” she said, starting off.

“What? Wouldn’t you rather kill it and be done?” he said with a hint of bitterness in his voice. She knew that he was thinking of how Humans could destroy. Thinking that no matter how different she seemed, she was still just another stupid ape. She kept forgetting how cynical and broken he had been that first month she had known him.

‘You gotta give it a chance,” she said, echoing his words from last time back at him. He stated at her in shock as she headed down the rest of the stairs, till there was only one more flight before the platform. Snapping to his sense, he followed her down.

“I seek audience with the Nestene Consciousness under peaceful contract,” he said formally as he leaned over a rail. “According to convention 15 of the Shadow Proclamation.”

Below him, the Consciousness wobbled around in its way of speaking. A small hissing ‘yes’ reached his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rose’s head snap up in surprise. Had she heard it? She had been in his TARDIS for all of five minutes, she couldn’t possibly have already picked up the telepathic language translator, could she?

“Thank you. That I might have permission to approach?” But before he could see the reply, a desperate cry sounded through the chamber.

“Rose!” someone cried. She turned to see Mickey clinging to the rail behind her. It was a shock to see him so young and scared and innocent. Back in Pete’s world he was so confident, and he had seen so much working for Torchwood. It was incredible how much he had changed. But despite the horrors he had been through to get that way, it was a change for the better. She loved him… but right now he seemed like such a whimp!

“Mickey!” She smiled in relief as she went to him. “It’s okay, you’re alright,” she soothed.

“That thing down there,” he squeaked in panic, “the liquid, Rose – it can talk!”

“You’re stinking!” she cried, crinkling her nose as his sweat assaulted her. “At least you’re alive. Come on, up you get. Time to be a big boy, yeah?” She helped him get shakily to his feet as the Doctor jumped the last flight of stairs to address the Consciousness. She felt herself become anxious remembering how he had almost been thrown over that rail-less ledge. She found herself leaving Mickey where he was and slowly inching to where she knew the chain hung, ready to help the moment she could.

“Am I addressing the Consciousness?” the Doctor asked. “Thank you,” he said at the hissing growl that filled the air. Once again, Rose heard this as actual words and her brows rose in surprise. “If I might observe, you infiltrated this civilisation by means of warped-shunt technology. So, may I suggest – with the greatest respect – that you shunt off?” He grinned goofily at his own pun and Rose couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She listened as the Consciousness tried to defend its actions. “Oh, don’t give me that! It’s an invasion, plain and simple! Don’t talk to me about constitutional rights!” The vat of Nestene roared a few not nice words and reared up. “I. Am. Talking!” the Doctor shouted at it, his voice dripping with authority. “This planet is just starting. These stupid little people have only just learnt how to walk. But they are capable of so much more. I’m asking on their behalf – please, just go.”

Once again, because of the platform blocking her view, she saw the Autons too late. “Doctor!” she cried in warning. But they had already grabbed hold on him, one arm each. They searched his pockets, pulling out the Anti-plastic and she groaned. This was how it started.

“That was just insurance!” the Doctor said almost desperately as he strained against his captors. “I wasn’t going to use it!” The Consciousness thrashed and gurgled angrily, yelling its disbelief at the Doctor. “I was not attacking you. I’m here to help. I’m not your enemy I swear I’m not-” He cut off as the Consciousness spat over top of him. “What do you mean?” he said in confusion.

On their level, above the Doctor, some doors opened to reveal the TARDIS.

“Mickey, go to the TARDIS,” she whispered to him as the Doctor argued over his ship.

“What?”

“That blue box. Go to it. Now.”

“But-”

“Now!” she commanded, giving him a push towards it. He shuffled the rest of the way, looking much like a dog with its tail between its legs. The sight was almost funny if it weren’t so disheartening. She had grown so used to the sight of a Mickey… Well, a Mickey that actually had a backbone and courage and confidence.

“That’s not true!” the Doctor yelled from below her. “I should know, I was there. I fought in the war. It wasn’t my fault! I couldn’t save your world. I couldn’t save any of them!”

Last time this happened, Rose had been so concerned about what was happening that she hadn’t really paid attention to what he was saying. This time, she caught every word and her heart clenched painfully for him. She could hear the raw grief in his words, and she knew exactly why. She knew that he was talking about the Time War, and what that meant for him. She knew how he had been forced to destroy his own planet and people along with his enemies and anyone else who was caught in the crossfire. She knew that it hadn’t been all that long since it had all ended and that the wounds were still so, so fresh for him.

The Consciousness roared at them. “No, no, don’t!” he pleaded. “Rose! The Nestine has identified the TARDIS as superior technology. It’s terrified! It’s going to the final phase. It’s starting the invasion! Get out, Rose! Just leg it! Now!” Rose just smiled determinedly, even as the Consciousness sent the signal and the Eye started transmitting. “Get out, Rose! Just get out! Run!”

“Not likely!” she laughed, picking up the axe and began hacking at the chain. She wasn’t sure if he had heard her or not, but she had certainly said it loud enough. Her next words, however, were definitely too quiet, just for her. “I’ve changed quite a bit. I’m not a shop girl anymore. I technically got my A levels. I’m braver. I… used to be stronger. Buggar. But there are some things that haven’t changed. I still got guts. I still know what’s right. And I still got the bronze in the Junior Under 7’s gymnastics!”

With that, she pulled the chain free, got a tight grip and swung. She swooped right down towards the Doctor and kicked one of the Autons. It was the one holding the Anti-plastic and it went flying, falling straight into the Vat of Nestine Consciousness. It gave the Doctor the freedom and distraction he needed to throw the other Auton over the edge. The momentum made her swing far out over the vat, and when she came back in, she was caught in the Doctor’s strong arms. Below them, the Nestine started to writhe and scream, the vat burning orange tossing about wildly. Still holding onto each other, the two of them looked down into the vat.

And the signal cut off.

“Now we’re in trouble,” the Doctor said almost excitedly, grinning at her.

Grabbing her hand, they ran up the few stairs to the TARDIS as the place began to collapse around them as the Consciousness exploded. The Doctor pushed aside a cowering Mickey, who was clinging to the TARDIS, and let them in. Still grinning in excitement, Rose helped Mickey up and pulled him inside, closing the door behind them.

As soon as they were inside, there was the odd stillness she was already used to. As if they were completely separated from the chaos that was happening just outside, untouched in the dimension held inside the TARDIS. Once they were in, the Doctor dematerialised, but she could feel the small shudder of the place collapsing as they dematerialised. She could feel the difference between the TARDIS moving and something outside shaking her. But they were out of there in and instant, and she flopped happily on the jump seat.

 “Oh my god!” Mickey squeaked, still standing stunned by the door. “It’s- it’s- it’s-”

“Bigger on the inside?” Rose said innocently as he pressed himself against the nearest coral strut.

“But that’s not possible!” he cried. Glancing over at the Doctor, she saw him roll his eyes.

“Yeah, it is,” she scoffed. “It’s dimensionally transcendental.”

“How do you know that?” the Doctor asked in surprise, snapping around to look at her in suspicion.

“It-it’s in the name… Time and Relative Dimensions in… Hey, I read!” she cried indignantly. “I’m not stupid, you know!”

“Never said you were,” he said. Then, for a while he just stared at her critically, long enough to make her feel a little uncomfortable and start to shift in her seat. “Something’s different about you,” he said finally.

“What?” she said, surprised and worried he’d picked it up. She tried to look confused by the statement.

“Your eyes. They’re different.”

She sat up bolt straight, reaching up to touch near her eyes and looked wildly around for a mirror. “What?! No! They can’t be different! I like hazel eyes. I have pretty hazel eyes!” She put on a little worried pout, and the Doctor fell for it hook line and sinker.

“No, no! They’re the same colour,” he assured her, coming a little closer to her with his hands out, trying to calm her. “You have pretty hazel eyes. They’re very pretty.” He suddenly stopped awkwardly as he realised how honestly he was saying it. It sounded quite forward, and soon he found himself attempting not to flounder over his words like a fish. It was all Rose could do to hide her laughter. He looked relieved when the graunching engines indicated they had arrived.

Mickey was the first to bolt from the door. He stumbled out into the alleyway, falling over, then backing himself against the wall. Rose just strolled out casually, still enjoying the high of being back in the TARDIS and with her Doctor. It wasn’t seconds later that her phone rang, giving her a fright. She hadn’t had that phone in such a long time and she’d almost forgotten she had it on her.

“Rose? Rose!” her mother’s voice called down the line when she answered. She felt almost guilty. She had been so wrapped up in everything going on that she had completely forgotten that her mother had been involved in this crisis. “You won’t believe what just happened. I was out doing some shopping, and all these shop window dummies started moving! We thought it was just kids dressed up, pulling a prank. But then they smashed they smashed the widows and suddenly collapsed. There wasn’t anyone in them!” Jackie cried in disbelief.  Rose tried to stifle her laughter. Her mother was alright, and it sounded like things went better on her end than they did last time. It was just so strange listening to her rant on like that. “Oh, I’ll tell you what, Love,” she went on. “You can get compensation. I said so. I’ve got this document thing off the police. Don’t thank me-”

“Thanks, Mum!” she said. And, still smiling, she hung up on her mother’s rant.

The smile grew wider as she thought about what it really meant that things had been okay for her. It meant that the Autons hadn’t gone on some big rampage. London was still in one piece and no one would have gotten hurt or killed. She had done it! She turned to celebrate with the others, but seeing Mickey, she remembered that they wouldn’t know quite why she was celebrating.

“Fat lot of good you were!” she laughed at Mickey, helping him up. He whimpered as he slumped back down at her feet again. She covered her face in embarrassment, still giggling, and turned to face the TARDIS where the Doctor had just come to lean in the doorway.

“Nestene Consciousness? Easy,” he grinned smugly, clicking his fingers.

“You were useless in there,” she teased. “You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me.” Oh, she’d missed teasing him. She couldn’t remember a day with him that she hadn’t teased him about something!

“Yes, I would. Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Right then, I’ll be off! Unless, ah… I don’t know… you could come with me.”

She had to snap her mouth shut so she didn’t blurt out the ‘yes’ that was dancing on her lips. She hadn’t even noticed that she’d taken a small step towards the TARDIS. But, no! No, she couldn’t give in yet. She remembered what the TARDIS had said, telling her to turn him down the first time he asked so he would come back and ask a second time… God, she hoped he did ask again! What if this time he decided that her no was final and that there was no point asking again? Then she would be stuck here without him. No. No, the TARDIS would never let that happen. Still, it was just so, so hard to even think about saying no. The worry that he might not ask again, and the look in his eyes. She knew that look now, and she knew just how lonely he had been. He was asking her because he was desperate for companionship, and for some reason, even before when she could see nothing in herself, he had thought that she was worthy of being taken out to the stars. He thought that she was ‘the best’.

She should- No. No, just wait.

“This box isn’t just a London hopper, you know. It goes anywhere in the universe, free of charge,” he said, trying to entice her. And god, it was so hard to keep her feet firmly planted where they were instead of running home. Mickey quickly helped her with this issue when he threw his arms around her hips, clinging to her legs.

“Don’t!” he cried. “He’s an alien! He’s a thing!”

Rose had to hold back a nasty comment. She knew that he was scared, that he was still so young and new to this and didn’t know any better yet. But it made her angry to hear him insult the Doctor like that.

“He’s not invited,” the Doctor said in annoyance. The smile returned as he looked back at her. “What do you think? You could stay here and fill your life with work and food and sleep, or you could go, ah… anywhere.”

She knew that he could easily see the longing in her eyes. It was taking all she had and Mickey anchoring her down not to scream ‘yes’ and run to him and tell him she would never ever leave him. And this time she meant never ever. But she had to trust the TARDIS. She had to say no.

“I-I can’t,” she stuttered. “I’ve-I’ve, um… I’ve gotta go make sure Mum’s alright. And, um, someone’s got to look after this stupid lump… So… I…”

‘I wanna go with you. Please take me with you. Please! Look, I’m lying about not being able to go. Please, Doctor, please, come back for me!’ she begged silently.

“Okay,” the Doctor said, hiding his disappointment. “See you around.” The locked eyes for a long, desperate moment before he turned back inside the TARDIS, and a second later she disappeared.

Rose took a deep breath and closed her eyes, praying with all her might that he really did come back. She was still so worried that he wouldn’t come back for her. They were changing history, so what if this changed as well?

How was she supposed to know that at that very moment, the Doctor was considering going back already and trying to convince himself that he was only going to ask once more. He was trying to push away the little voice in the back of his head telling him that he would go back and ask her as many times as it took for her to say yes. There was something different about her… even before she had become, well, a little different. She was good. And she was full of wonder and life and untapped potential. And that was something he desperately needed right now. He needed someone… He needed her.

 Rose sighed, trying not to count the seconds until she heard the TARDIS once more. She felt Mickey’s arms tighten around her hips and she shook her head. It occurred to her that now was the perfect time to do something, but it wasn’t going to be easy.

As she had gotten older and matured more, there was always a few things that had bugged her, looking back. She hadn’t been fair to her mum, and she really hadn’t been fair to Mickey. He had still loved her up until the very end, even suggesting they get back together just to settle. She had come to realise that she had strung him along. Always running off and never giving him closure. Letting him hope that maybe… just maybe there was a chance, even though he could see her falling for someone else beside him. The truth was that she didn’t love him quite like that, and she hadn’t in a very long time. At times, she wondered if she ever had, if she had gone out with him because it just seemed like what would naturally come next, because unlike Jimmy he was safe, and that they only stayed together because it was comfortable. She loved him, and he was wonderful… but there was no spark. She hadn’t realised what a wonderful, passionate, soul-shattering love could be like until the Doctor came along and showed her.

But that still didn’t excuse her for what she had done to Mickey. Heck, he had gone to a different universe just for some space to get over her! It had been something she had truly come to regret, and she wished so many times that she could go back and do it again. This was her chance to do it better.

“Come on, up you get,” she said to him, taking his arms from around her waist and helping him up so they were facing. She felt as if she should be more upset by what she was about to do, but instead she just felt relieved and grateful for this second chance. He didn’t deserve to be led on. She refused to do that again. And hopefully, they would be better for it.

“Rose… Rose, I’m so glad you didn’t-”

“Mickey, wait,” she said, cutting him off. She took a moment to take a deep, calming breath and looked him right in the eye. “Look, Mickey… I-I don’t think we should do this anymore. Us.” He opened his mouth to protest, hurt clear on his face, but he was silenced as she held up a finger to pause him. “I love you. I really do. Just… not the way you want me to. I don’t think I have for a while. And you deserve better than that. You deserve someone who loves you with everything they have. And you can’t just sit around waiting for someone who’s running around, caught in something that’s so much bigger than we could possibly have imagined. I… I haven’t treated you right, and I wanna fix that. You’re my best friend, and you gotta let me look out for you for once. But I can’t-”

She was cut off by the sound of the TARDIS materialising back where she had been a moment before. An ecstatic grin lit up her face.

He came back!

“By the way…” The Doctor popped his head out. “Did I mention, it also travels in time?” He grinned at her knowingly, knowing that she would follow this time, and went back in, leaving the door open so that it was still her choice.

Rose smiled at him, then she turned back to Mickey. “Thanks,” she told him quietly, kissing him on the cheek.

“For what?” he said in hurt bewilderment, his arms hanging oddly just out from his body as she stepped out of them.

“Exactly. I’ll be back in a year. Promise.”

And with that, she turned and ran the few short steps to the TARDIS, a broad smile on her face. She stopped when she reached the console and the smile became impossibly wider as she looked up to meet joyful blue eyes.

She was home. She was finally, and properly home.

Author Note:

Word count from 4,544 to 6,325 words (7 → 11 pages).

Chapter Index  |  First Chapter  |  << Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter >>

[aelaer]

Whumptober Day 9: Shackled

Don't ask me about canon timing because I think this is one of those "canon shmanon" type of timelines in this story. Thanos and five years just screws up everything, man.

This also got a bit longer, soooo cut! (assuming tumblr doesn’t mess it up). I don’t think any warnings particularly apply here, beyond your usual bad guy shenanigans.

Fandom: Still Doctor Strange / MCU

9. Shackled

For reasons unknown to Stephen, the group of dark occultists from another dimension were specifically looking for him and him alone. They said as much when they came to the New York Sanctum to try and overwhelm him the first time.

(For some reason they were surprised by the fact that Stephen was all but immediately joined by half a dozen other Masters and quickly retreated. Did they really think he wouldn't have any backup? That Kamar-Taj would just leave him to it?)

Several acolytes and more adept apprentices were looking for information on how they came to their dimension in the first place and trying to locate their point of origin. Many masters, in the meantime, were looking for where this group was hiding, but they managed to mask their presence well. When a week passed with no sightings, they reluctantly agreed to alert the Avengers of the group's existence, loath as all the masters were in admitting their failure in finding them quickly. But they were too great a potential threat to keep a secret for any longer.

Another week passed with no ground gained on finding them. They were able to pinpoint their entry point on their dimension's earth, which meant they had more resources as to how they got there in the first place. At least it was something.

Then everything changed with a knock at the New York Sanctum's door. Stephen opened it and found a woman in scrubs on his doorstep.

She seemed familiar. He looked at her name tag and old memories from years ago flew into his mind.

"Laura?" Laura was a pediatric doctor at Metro-General; she often worked with their long-term patients, and there were a handful of occasions that he had done surgery on one of "her darling brood of children", as she'd say with a grin as he'd scoff.

But Laura's usually cheerful face was absent, and her dark skin unusually pale and tight about her eyes as she answered, "I need you to come with me."

He may have not seen her in years, but it didn't take a genius to see that she was distressed. "Laura, what's wrong?"

"Please," she answered, then pressed her lips into a tight line.

Stephen felt the cloak tighten about his shoulders, obviously sensing his own dread. "Alright," he murmured, and stepped out of the Sanctum, not bothering with a glamour spell for his clothes. She immediately descended the two steps and began her way east down Bleecker Street. He ignored the stares from those they passed and kept one eye on Laura's tense frame as the other kept a lookout for threats.

They came to a small side alley with a dumpster blocking half of its width. She turned there and he followed, readying himself for an ambush.

But there was no one there. Rather Laura pulled out what looked like some sort of burner phone— her hand was shaking— and she flipped it open and pressed a couple buttons until she pulled up a picture of what appeared to be some warehouse interior.

"They said you can get there with a picture. We need to go there."

He frowned at her words and studied the picture, then looked back at her. "Who do they have as leverage?" he asked softly.

She took in a shaky breath. "Four children. Patients."

Stephen balked; these assholes had kidnapped kids with cancer? "How long ago?" These kids were on strict dietary and medication schedules due to the diseases they were fighting, and deviation from those could lead to unpleasant side effects that made it difficult for adults, never mind children.

"About an hour," Laura answered, assuaging his fears of immediate detrimental effects. She continued quickly, lowly, "I heard you had become a superhero of some sort, Stephen, but these guys have abilities I've never seen from any of the Avengers. There's a lot of them, and for some reason they want you."

At her words, he closed his eyes briefly. He really should have suspected it earlier; he just never thought any enemy in his new world would think to target people from his old one. "I believe I know who they are. I am so sorry you were dragged into this, Laura."

"I wish it was just me and not the kids," she replied, and he couldn't argue there. "I could've told them where to stick it if that were the case. But they have my patients, and they said if you tried to call for help or bring anyone, they'll kill them." She looked down at the phone. "And if we don't go soon, I'm afraid they'll start to get suspicious."

Stephen pressed his lips together and nodded. "I would tell you to stay behind, but I know you won't listen."

She frowned at him. "I'm not leaving the children alone." 

"I know." Without further ado, he placed his sling ring upon his shaking hand and drew a portal against the wall to open into the pictured warehouse. Laura hardly hesitated at its sight before following him towards it, and they stepped into the room. He let the gateway fizzle closed behind them.

As expected, he was surrounded by the same nine occultists that they had been searching for for two weeks. To the side were four children, probably ranging from seven to thirteen, sitting huddled together on the ground. Laura gave him one last apologetic look before walking slowly towards them, so as to not alarm her captors with sudden movement. She hardly needed to worry, as all of them were more or less solely focused on Stephen.

He did his best to keep his tone even. "Well, you wanted me. Here I am."

One of them stepped forward. "You are to come with us, Doctor Strange."

Stephen answered calmly, "Without a fight, I presume."

"If you wish not to face the consequences of such actions, then yes. You will surrender now."

He kept his eyes upon the spokesman rather than looking towards Laura and the kids. "And I am also to presume that if I follow these actions, you will let them go unharmed."

"Yes. They have served their purpose."

"I need more than that," Stephen replied, voice even and unmoving. "I need your word on behalf of all in your company that all five of them will remain unharmed and left in an environment non-detrimental to their survival." A sudden thought came to mind, and he added, "And my Cloak remains behind with them to serve as some form of protection." Behind him, he felt the Cloak stiffen.

The head occultist seemed somewhere between bemused and irritated by his demands; to give one's word as a sorcerer had a good deal more permanent effect than other beings. Spoken oaths had some sort of seal to make them stick amongst magic users with rather nasty consequences if broken. Eventually, he replied, "I give you my word on behalf of myself and my company that we will meet your demands in exchange for your complete and utter surrender."

Complete and utter surrender. To demand that of him meant he could not fight directly against them without consequence to his person. Stephen briefly closed his eyes and exhaled in quiet resignation. "I accept your terms."

He felt a shift in the atmosphere as the powers that wove reality together sealed their agreement. Three of them immediately moved towards him.

Still the Cloak clung onto him, reluctant to do as bid. There was no time for argument. Go, he ordered silently, offering no room for protest, and the garment detached itself from his shoulders and darted around the approaching occultists to Laura and her patients. From the corner of his eye he saw their terror turn briefly into wonder at its approach. A better memory for the children, at least.

Stephen was brought back to his own predicament as his arms were wrenched behind his back. They took his sling ring and then his wrists were secured with thick manacles that extended down to his hands and fingers, forcing them to curl inward in a manner that already hurt them. He forced himself to remain silent.

He could not, however, quite hold his tongue at the sight of what appeared to be some sort of gag that resembled a horse's bit. "You can't be serious," he said, instinctively pulling his head back.

"And have you utter any sort of spells?" asked their spokesman. "I think not."

Utter spells? Were they for real? Apparently they were, because they were coming in with the damn gag and he had little choice but to submit to it, irksome as it was.

The two holding onto his arms remained there even as another three of them started drawing sigils he did not recognize into the air. He quickly took them in, memorizing their formation and the order they appeared as best as he was able to. Then suddenly, the warehouse surrounding them began to appear fuzzy on the edges, then blur, and then there was nothing but darkness.

((There might be a sequel in another prompt. Not sure yet.))

[notwhelmedyet]

Dratchtember Day 7

Prompt: free space! Ratchet accidentally summons a demon and then falls in love, part 3/3. This time featuring the Dead End clinic and the DJD as demon hunters. (cw: violence, torture) ...and yes, if you were wondering I did look up a directory of the supposed metaphysical properties of minerals for this fic (also on ao3 here) (demon summoning part 1 here)

Ratchet sighed. His patients didn't like it when there were cops lingering outside the building, even if Orion was his friend and didn't mean any harm. "I promise, Orion, first sign of trouble I'll call you up," he said, patting his friend on the shoulder. "You and Roller."

"I know, it's just - " Orion gesticulated at the surrounding street with its broken buildings and shuttered shopfronts and Dead End inhabitants. "Response times getting out here aren't great. It'd make me feel a lot better if you kept the clinic locked and hired some security. You've got a lot of valuable medicines in there and people are desperate."

"I heard you the first time, Orion, and I'm sorry but it's not going to happen. If I lock up the clinic it ceases to become a community space that people living here are willing to interact with. It starts looking like a predatory research lab or worse, a body-stripping operation. There's no point in running the clinic if nobody goes."

"Well, what about security? Just one guard - "

"I'll think about it Orion," Ratchet promised. "It's a good idea and I promise I'll think about it. Now, I really do need to get back to work," Ratchet hooked his thumb over his shoulder. He and Orion made their goodbyes and their promises to definitely hang out more and find the time to meet after work when they were both free - Ratchet was expecting be at least a couple of months but stranger things had happened to him lately than syncing schedules with Orion Pax.

Someone draped their arms over his shoulder, melting into him like a Cyberlynx seeking out warmth on a cold day. "You gonna hire security?" Drift whispered into his audial, clearly amused. "You need some tough mech to look after you, keep you safe?"

Ratchet rolled his optics. "I assumed you had it covered."

"Mm, I suppose I could be tempted into taking the position," Drift murmured. He kissed the back of Ratchet's neck, trailing kisses down to the sensitive spot where it joined with Ratchet's shoulder.

Ratchet tried not to squirm, hooking his thumbs into his hip plating and pretending he was surveying the city skyline contemplatively. "Not in front of the patients," he hissed under his breath.

"I want a nice rock in exchange for taking over security," Drift said. "Two rocks, actually. Tourmaline quartz, for sure, to clear the clinic of negative energies. And rainbow moonstone - meditating with a charged rainbow moonstone is supposed to help you find feelings of inner peace, I read."

"I'm not buying you magic rocks," Ratchet grumbled.

---

Drift looked at the rocks in his cupped hands and then squinted at Ratchet. "Are you dying?" he asked, sounding suddenly very concerned.

"Why would I be dying?" Ratchet asked.

Drift stared at him in 'I have been requesting nonsense spiritualist crystals for a year and now you are suddenly giving them to me and there is no alternative explanation that makes sense'.

"I'm not going to be attending at the hospital in Iacon anymore," Ratchet said. "I've been requested as the attending medic for the Prime."

Drift smiled. "No more Panax? That's great, Ratchet - I knew someone was going to see how talented you were soon - "

"I don't want you to come with me to work any more," Ratchet said. "The clinic is fine, we'll still have the clinic. And I want to spend as much time with you as I can. But it's too risky to have you in the presence of the Prime."

Drift looked down at the rocks and then looked back at Ratchet. "This is an apology, then?"

"I am sorry. I couldn't turn down this appointment - he's the Prime, you don't say no to him. But I'm not so dense that I couldn't put together the pieces of what you've said about your previous summoners; they were government, weren't they? Maybe not at the Prime level, but certainly at the level of the Functionist Council."

"Not all of them," Drift said.

"But enough of them," Ratchet finished. "We can't risk that someone there has a way to detect slivers, that there are people in the Prime's inner circle who are observant enough to realize that you exist and what you are. I said I would keep you safe and the best way I can think to do that is to keep you far away from those people."

---

Sometimes Ratchet’s patients at the clinic were reluctant to invite themselves inside. So when he saw a minibot huddled up by the entrance, Ratchet detoured to check if they were in the midst of a medical emergency.

"Hey kid, you here for the doctor?" Ratchet asked, crouching down a few feet away. Never get to close to a Dead Ender without permission, he'd learned that the hard way. Some folks didn’t want his help and he wasn’t going to force it on them. Even on his new CMO’s salary, he didn’t actually have the funds to take care of the entire Dead End. He needed to get himself a wealthy patron like Orion had.

"Hey medc Ratchet," the bot said, wiggling their fingers in a little wave. "No, I’m good. You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?"

"The street’s a public place, last I heard," Ratchet said. Technically Dead End was divided up into the territories of various street gangs and syk-pushers but Ratchet didn’t pay that any mind. He looked around, taking in the stillness of the street that night. It was too early for this deathly calm. "Something happening out here tonight?" He asked lightly.

"Someone got Theo," they said.

Ratchet raised a brow. Theomus was one of the most well-respected flophouse managers’s in Dead End. He ran one of the few buildings where a mech could rent a room and find a safe place to sleep off the streets and he was known for being both fair in his prices and unwilling to take sides in inter-gang disputes. If Theo was dead, that was going to have a seismic impact on the neighborhood. "They know who yet?"

The kid shook his head. "Whoever got him is still out there and - bad things don’t happen near your clinic."

"Is that right?" Ratchet asked.

"Proctor told me he nearly got disappeared a few days ago but he ran to the clinic and the mechs chasing him disappeared. They found them the next morning with their sparks ripped out, down by the Old Gate. Whoever got Theo, I don’t think they can touch me here. This place is protected."

"Sounds like superstitious nonsense to me," Ratchet said. "But come inside. There’s plenty of chairs in the waiting room, won’t hurt to have you taking up one of them."

After Ratchet worked through the patients who’d been waiting for him to show up, he headed of the back stockroom in search of Drift. They’d put a cot in Ratchet’s office but Drift had decided he preferred to set up a nest of towels and other soft things and sleep on the floor. Ratchet turned on the light and shuffled sideways until Drift winked into view.

Drift made a sleepy noise and stretched out, blinking at Ratchet. Ratchet sat down and spread his arms, "Hey sweetspark, I missed you."

Drift threw himself into Ratchet’s arms, knocking them both onto the floor. "Ratchet!" He pressed his helm up against Ratchet’s, brushing their noses together. "How was your day?" He asked.

"It was fine," Ratchet said. "Better now." He kissed Drift, then got an arm around his waist to lift him as they stood up. Drift wrapped his legs around Ratchet, laughing into the kiss. Ratchet walked until he bumped into the table, then let Drift go to cradle his helm in his hands.

They wound down eventually, Drift still peppering Ratchet’s collar with kisses between words and Ratchet petting his finials as they talked.

"I heard some bad business went down in the Quarter today," Ratchet said. "Felt real tense out there tonight."

"Mm. I didn’t hear anything," Drift said. "But I did notice it seemed tense. Not a lot of foot traffic."

"I heard something else interesting," Ratchet said.

"Oh?"

"Apparently someone saved Proctor - you know, the kid with the fuel tank replacement surgery - from some body snatchers the other day. Right outside the clinic. You know anything about that?"

"How toothless do you want me to be?" Drift murmured into his shoulder. "I know you don’t like violence."

"I’ve never had any illusions that you were harmless," Ratchet said. "You’re going to start some urban myths if you keep it up."

"There are some people out there who think they're monsters and that they can do whatever they want without consequence," Drift said. "I’m just...correcting those misapprehensions."

---

Ratchet had always thought he’d hated parties, but he hadn’t realized the depths of loathing he was capable of experiencing until he was asked to attend one of the Prime’s "banquets". Hundreds of rich bots and senators swirling about, trying to one-up each other and buying and selling influence over ritzy energon spritzers. People felt the need to talk to him because he was Chief Medical Officer and somehow they thought that translated into some sort of influence with the Prime. If he’d had any sort of influence at all he would have been safely home at his apartment watching cheesy movies with Drift. He wondered what they’d think if they knew he still lived in his run-down apartment block with his college roommate.

It was already a scandal that Ratchet was so young. The Prime hadn’t chosen Ratchet out of any special regard for his skills, he’d told Ratchet as much. He’d selected Ratchet because he didn’t give a damn about politics and had no political connections to any of the Prime’s rivals. That, a general competence and the Prime’s apparent grudge against Panax (really the one political opinion they shared) had been enough to catapult Ratchet from obscurity.

Ratchet made awkward excuses to the senator who’d cornered him to try to ask about "you know, this noise when I bend my elbow. It goes ‘creak, creak’, I swear it does, I just can’t seem to make it do it just now." Spotting an unoccupied doorway out onto the balcony, Ratchet lifted another flute of engex from a serving droid and slipped out of the crowd.

There were still people out here, just fewer of them. And since the balcony was only lit by the decorative floating lanterns it was nearly too dim to recognize people. Hopefully that would stop people from locating him for a few minutes.

"Excuse me, Medic Ratchet?"

Ratchet sighed, then squared his shoulders and turned to face the speaker. Large frame, tank alt, probably a dark blue or purple but it was hard to tell in the lighting. Long clawed hands gripped a delicate flute of engex. He was wearing a mask.

Ratchet hadn’t realized this was a masquerade. "That would be me," he said, then offered the mech a hand to shake. "And you are…"

"My name is Tarn." The mech lingered on the handshake just a shade too long. Ratchet’s plating crawled. "I run a...team, one of the Prime’s pet projects. We seek out occult beings and those dangerous persons who would try to harness that power to their will. We call it the ‘DJD’."

Ratchet didn’t like where this was going, but he had a part to play. "Can’t say as I believe in any of that, but the Prime is free to spend his money where he wills. What is ‘DJD’ supposed to stand for?"

"Oh, it’s a joke - we call ourselves the Demon Justice Division. And I assure you, doctor, the creatures we seek are very real indeed."

"You would be the expert on that, I suppose," Ratchet said with a tip of his glass. "Forgive me if I remain a skeptic; they drill it into you in medical school. Was there something you wanted to speak to me about?"

"Ah, yes. I understand you live with a certain Trefacto of Iacon at," Tarn rattled off Ratchet’s address. "There were several books inside your residence as of three days ago that would fall under the purview of my unit. I had my agents take the liberty of removing this contraband from the property. I decided it would be best to speak with you in person, rather than bringing you and your roommate in for official...questioning. Often it’s simplest to take a light touch with these matters."

Ratchet’s spark was stuttering in his chest, a sickly mixture of rage and fear. How dare… He tried to quash that response and decided there was no way he could do that convincingly. "You had my apartment searched?" He asked in a voice on just this side of civil. Maybe slightly beyond it, but quietly enough that he didn’t attract the attention of the surrounding socializers.

"Yes."

"On what grounds?" Three days ago...Drift had stayed at the clinic that day because Ratchet had been doing a showcase surgery, he didn’t like being alone in the apartment when Ratchet wasn’t there.

"I don’t believe you’re understanding the depth of the Prime’s trust in me. He is concerned that others may attempt to use powers beyond their control to tilt the planet away from its proper course," Tarn said. "You weren’t singled out, doctor, you were one of many. Now, the books. Do you know why they were there?"

"My roommate believes every conspiracy on this side of Luna II," Ratchet said, trying to figure out how to phrase this so that Trefacto would sound thoroughly unthreatening. "He believes in crystal healing, he believes that people have auras, he believes that Luna I was eaten by an invisible space whale. He had a passing fancy in the occult and got a few books on the subject. Nothing came of it. As far as I know they’ve been sitting on a shelf ever since."

"You don’t believe he’s implemented any of the techniques in those books?"

"I don’t believe he could implement any of the techniques in those books," Ratchet said. "Because it’s all slag. But no, I don’t think he’s actually tried any of it. He got the books from a street vendor or something, tried reading them and complained that the writing was impenetrable and gave up."

"Mm-hmm," Tarn said. He lifted his mask slightly with one hand so that he could take a sip of his drink.

"Is it illegal now, having books?"

"Oh no, we’re not discussing a violation of the law. We’re discussing the potential violation of the natural order of things, of the will of Primus." Tarn reached out and brushed the underside of Ratchet’s chin with his claws, tilting his head up. "I think it would be for the best if you were to find a new roommate, doctor. I would hate to have to bring you in for interrogation. The Prime is very fond of his new pet, after all." Tarn stepped away, raising his glass slightly in acknowledgement. "Travel safely tonight, doctor. And watch your step."

---

"Are you going to need help carrying any of this down?" Trefacto asked, pausing in the doorway of Ratchet’s room. Ratchet grimaced, looking around a the chaos. He’d hoped to get everything packed up before the van came, but they’d messaged him that they were waiting downstairs and he was still bundling up his datapads into stacks.

"Yeah, that’d be helpful, actually," Ratchet said. "I’m sorry to leave you in a lurch like this. I’d planned on moving out at the end of the lease, but…"

"You’re the Prime’s CMO now, it was weird they didn’t order you to move out sooner," Trefacto said with a wave of his hand. "I’ll just sublease your room out until the trimester ends. Got a few boxes prepared? I could carry those down for you while you’re packing the rest."

"One second, let me check these to make sure they’re ready," Ratchet said, climbing over the stack of datapads to open up one of his finished boxes.

"Is that a moonstone?" Trefacto asked. "Oh gosh, is that cuprite? Ratchet, you never told me you were into the metaphysics of crystal energies. We could have been having so many interesting conversations."

"Oh, that’s not mine actually," Ratchet said. "It’s a gift. For my sparkmate."

"Woah!" Trefacto gasped. "You’re dating someone? Primus’s fuelpump, that’s wild. For how long?"

"Uh, awhile. A year or so."

"And you never mentioned anything?" Trefacto smiled. "Wait, why am I even surprised, this is you we’re talking about. Congrats. You should definitely introduce me to your sparkmate sometime, though. If we ever hang out after this. You do have my comm frequency?"

Ratchet dutifully pretended he would ever call Trefacto again and checked that he had his comm frequency written down. The rest of the time they were packing, Trefacto continued to ask Ratchet questions about Drift. Ratchet absently invented answers, most of his mind on packing. The rest of his concentration was on the anxious knot in his spark, which was growing harder and harder to ignore. So he got a little threatened by some theatrical weirdo with his own secret police force. That was no reason to freak out - no reason to freak out more than he already was.

By the time he’d said his goodbyes to Trefacto and sent the van off with his stuff towards his new apartment, the knot was beginning to become physically painful. Ratchet decided to walk it off, but the pain kept building and eventually he had to sit down. It felt like spark pain, but Ratchet’s indicators all looked steady. The only time he’d expect to see pain like this in a healthy patient was if they were a split spark and something was stretching the bond between them and their resonant partner -

Wait.

"Orion, Roller, I’m going to need you at my clinic," Ratchet snapped into his comm as he dropped into his alt mode.

"What’s going on?" Orion asked.

"Someone’s about to get murdered at my clinic and I can’t wait for backup," Ratchet said. "So, uh, get there fast or hopefully avenge me. You’re looking for a guy about Roller’s size, wears a mask, talks like a creep, thinks he’s lord of the universe. Tarn."

"Ratchet, wait for us," Roller said. "We’ll get out there as fast as we can."

"Sorry, I can’t promise that," Ratchet said. "He’s got my sparkmate."

Ratchet turned off comms and switched on his locational beacon. How could Ratchet have been so stupid as to think Tarn wouldn’t know about the clinic? Ratchet hadn’t even warned Drift about his encounter with Tarn the night before - he hadn’t wanted to make him so worried that he insisted on shadowing Ratchet at work and get caught.

Ratchet hit the streets of Dead End at a speed he hadn’t realized he was capable of. People ran to get out of his path, streets flying by until he got to the block where his clinic was and had to screech to a halt because of the mass of people blocking the road.

"Medic!" Someone whispered frantically and the crowd converged on him, mobbing him so he couldn’t move forwards. Ratchet transformed back to his root mode and tried to push past them.

"Medic Ratchet, you can’t go in there! They’ll kill you!" Someone whispered and Ratchet paused. He looked around. These weren’t just any Dead Enders. These were his patients, the ones he’d left at the clinic when he’d gone into work the night before. Even his long-term care patients, who couldn’t walk on their own, had been dragged out into the street.

"What’s happening?" He asked.

Everyone tried to answer him all at once and Ratchet had to throw up his hands to stop them. "One person," he said. He pointed at a grounder with green paint and a bad case of peripheral rust infection. "You. What’s happening in my clinic."

The mech explained, haltingly. Five mechs - one of whom was definitely Tarn - had shown up at the clinic. They’d ordered everyone out and, when some of the patients tried to fight back, one of them had transformed into a sniper rifle and Tarn had started picking off patients.

"He got Sleek," the grounder said. "But before he could shoot anyone else your demon showed up to fight them."

Drift had rushed in, in all his idiotic heroic bravery, and thrown himself at Tarn, buying the patients time to evacuate.

"Before we left, I saw them trap him," one of the other mechs in the crowd said. "The three of them used these lasers to make a light trap and pinned him in it. We haven’t seen anything since - they’ve got two guards on the door. One brute with a grinder in his chest and the one who turns into a rifle. But we could hear them for awhile." The mech shuddered. "It sounded horrible."

Ratchet’s fuel ran cold. Five mechs, all built for combat. No, not combat. From what his patients had seen, they were built for torture. "I can’t leave him there," Ratchet said. How was he going to take down five mechs? What if Drift was already...no. If Drift was gone it would stop hurting, and it hadn’t. "I need more information," Ratchet decided. "And if anyone’s got one, I need a gun."

The buildings in this section of Dead End had largely been gutted in the fires and the riots. To a mech that knew their business they were porous - you could follow a path through broken windows, half-collapsed staircases, walls with secret tunnels and jury-rigged catwalks. Ratchet’s patients knew their business. Ratchet found himself in the building opposite his clinic, using a mirror to look through the window while he crouched below its frame. Sure enough, the two guards at the front door were exactly as described. Ratchet watched them for a moment, trying to turn the sludge in his brain into a plan. He had a bad habit of going into things without a plan and it had, historically speaking, rarely ended well for him. And most of those times he hadn’t been trying to take down five fanatics-slash-professional torturers.

Drift screamed. Ratchet flinched, but he kept his optics on the mirror. The larger guard turned towards the clinic for a moment in response to the sound, a sick smile on his face. And then, just for a moment, his optics disappeared from behind his armor. The guard turned back and his optics lit red again. Ratchet snapped the mirror closed. "Those people aren’t mechs," he said. "They’re demons painted to look like mechs."

Ratchet and Drift had realized, a while back, that if you went through the effort of applying body-paint, Drift would be visible from all directions. It was useless for blending in with a crowd because they couldn’t paint over his optics, not if Drift wanted to see. And so you’d have a perfectly visible bot whose optics were pools of impenetrable darkness from every angle but one. Apparently Tarn’s DJD hadn’t found this to be a problem.

"Okay," Ratchet said. "Can someone help get me to the back entrance? I’ve got a plan."

From inside the building, the sounds of what they were doing to Drift were inescapable. Ratchet shuffled through the back hallway to his storeroom, quivering with anger. He couldn’t do anything about that yet, he had to wait. Ratchet’s tank wanted to purge itself but there was no time to waste having feelings. He had a demon to rescue.

In the dark he gathered up his supplies. Then he climbed onto the table to reach the hatch that led to the crawlspace above the ceiling. He’d spent plenty of time clambering around in here when he did the wiring for his lights and surgical equipment, but when he’d been doing all that it hadn’t mattered how much noise he made. Now what mattered most was silence and the silence let him hear all the louder what was happening downstairs.

"Do you repent, Sliver?" Tarn asked. "Do you repent for your crimes against Primus, do you welcome your damnation?"

"I already said yes," Drift stammered. "I’m a practicing spectralist, you know."

There was a crackle like an arc welder and Drift screamed again, voice ragged.

"You are nothing," Tarn hissed. "You are not fit to speak Primus’s name. You are not fit to speak. You’re place is to serve and to scream."

"Fuck you," Drift growled.

Ratchet tried to tune it out again as he reached the space over the entryway. Two slivers, watching the road and not the ceiling. Ratchet vented slowly, trying to steady himself. One of his patients, who was definitely a gunrunner, had lent him a bandolier to carry his supplies in. Ratchet took out a roll of tape, some wire and a handful of small lenses. He assembled the components of his trap first, then started lowering them into place. He started with the corner by the door - lifting one of the small ceiling tiles beneath the crawlspace and hooking the wire with the mirror taped to the bottom over the support beam. Four mirrors, suspended exactly the same distance from the ceiling. He wasn’t going to have much wiggle room. Finally, he powered on the little laser pointer he’d found and lowered it down on it’s own hook until he could see it refract off the mirror. The beam bounced from mirror to mirror and the trap closed. The slivers didn’t seem to notice, at least not yet. Ratchet moved on to the main room.

Slowly, carefully, he unscrewed a bit of ventilation piping and moved it aside so that he could use the ceiling vent as a peephole. Be strong, Ratchet. You’re going to save him. He forced himself to look.

There were a pair of light circles - one that encompassed most of the room and one that was encircling a single berth, with just enough space for a slender red and gold sliver with electricity sparking over his plating to stand at the head of the berth without exiting the circle. The other sliver was huge, larger than tarn, with an open barrel chest full of liquid metal. They were standing close, but carefully outside the circle. Tarn paced back and forth, crossing over the light beam of the inner circle with little care.

Drift was on the berth.

You could make a sliver visible by painting them, Ratchet and Drift had figured that one out on their own. Apparently you could do the same thing by pouring molten metal over their frame. Drift shook and shuddered on the berth, frame streaked with lines of grey cooled slag.

"Feeling warm yet?" Tarn asked lightly.

Drift glared at him.

Tarn snapped his fingers. "Kaon."

The sliver with the electricity powers - Ratchet’s patients had warned him about them - grabbed Drift by the finial. There was a crackle and then charge arced between Kaon’s shoulders. Drift writhed on the berth.

Ratchet focused his fury into his hands. He laid in another trap encircling the sliver with the smelter and then carefully lowered in his laser pointer. The mech didn’t seem in a hurry to move, hopefully Ratchet would have time before he noticed.

Tarn walked over to the smelter and filled a ladle with molten metal before walking back to the berth. "Sit up," he commanded.

Drift stared at him, sullenly. Tarn snapped his fingers and Kaon shocked him again. Drift still didn’t move to sit up, possibly because he couldn’t. Ratchet knew that Drift was stronger and considerably faster than most mechs, and given some of the stories Drift had alluded to from his time before Ratchet he must have been able to withstand more damage than most Cybertronians could survive. But still.

Ratchet began to mix the vials of chemicals he’d brought with him, tamping the container closed with his thumb. He needed to wait for the right moment.

"Lift him," Tarn ordered and Kaon wrapped his arm around Drift’s shoulder to shove him to a sitting position. "Would you care to tell me your name? I’m offering you one last chance to give me your name and your bond. I want you to understand - this is your very last chance. I would be happy to have you join our ranks, but if that’s not a possibility...my directive from the Prime was to purge all unholy creatures from the planet. And that I will gladly do."

Drift didn’t say anything, which Tarn clearly took as an invitation to monologue. "You might believe that you can outlast me. Primus knows you slivers can survive a great many things. I once had Tesarus grind a sliver down until it was only a head and it could still cry out in pain. But I was chosen for this role for a reason. I was forged with a gift beyond that of my peers - the ability to break any machinery, snuff out any spark, extinguish any demon. All by the power of my voice."

"That sounds about right," Drift said. "I bet most folks want to die, if they have to listen to you too long."

Tarn reached out and grabbed Drift’s face, forcing his head back. "Your name," he roared.

"Drift," Ratchet whispered, coming to a realization he should have had a long time ago.

Drift’s optics flicked towards him and Ratchet knew he was right. Drift had lied when Ratchet had first summoned him - he’d given Ratchet his actual name. The ability to order him, to bind him and to banish him. That meant that Ratchet could break the binding on Drift, right now, and he’d be able to leave Cybertron.

"I may die," Drift spat. "But I will always be his."

Tarn poured the ladle of molten metal over Drift’s face. The pain echoed through the bond to Ratchet’s spark so intensely that he thought maybe he was dying too. When he forced his optics to focus again Tarn was pacing, ladle halfway across the room where he’d apparently thrown it in a fit of rage. Kaon had released Drift and was looming over him, charge building on his plating.

That was Ratchet’s cue. He lifted his thumb off the vial in his hand and dropped it against the vent grate. Smoke poured out and a few moments later Ratchet heard the sprinklers start as the siren kicked on. Someone screamed, hopefully Kaon. Ratchet was already scrambling back towards the stockroom entrance, dragging open his own internal protocols and scorching ground as he went.

He dropped down into the stockroom in perfect silence. He’d been hoping for a pistol, but the patient who’d loaned him the bandolier had handed him off both a laser pistol and a rifle. Ratchet checked each of them again and then stomped into the main room and shot Tarn.

Tarn was armored, so he wasn’t expecting to bring him down in a single shot, but it was still disappointing to see him shrug off the shot with a shake of his head. At least Kaon and the smelter were down - Kaon on the ground, plating smoking and the smelter hammering on the invisible walls of his laser trap. But Tarn was still in play.

With his faceplate on it was very difficult to tell if Tarn was speaking. Ratchet fired another shot at him, nearly hitting him in the throat. Not that "nearly" did any good. He’d never been any good at shooting, Roller had pointed this out numerous times throughout his attempts to train him. Tarn drew his own gun and Ratchet dove behind the life-support console, feeling the shockwave from the impact against his back.

Barring some freak accident or an actual miracle, he wasn’t going to be able to bring down Tarn, Ratchet realized. Thinking otherwise had been an act of hubris, brought on by rage. Drift was too weak to even lift himself and there was no way he could stop Drift from hearing Tarn’s voice. Tarn could be killing Drift even now, and there would be no way for Ratchet to know.

There was only one option: breaking the bond so Drift could escape.

Ratchet stepped out from behind the console and fired a shot, not at Tarn but at one of the mirrors making up the circle around the berth. "Drift!" He yelled. "I order you to save yourself! Go home!"

Drift stared at him in shock. Ratchet felt a pressure on the sparkbond again, this time different than the others, a vibration of what could only be described as laughter. He looked at Ratchet and then he was gone.

Ratchet had known Drift could move more quickly than was physically possible for a Cybertronian. He hadn’t realized until he could see it in the traces of melted iron fused to his frame that Drift was using magic to do it.

Drift threw Tarn to the ground and sunk his claws into Tarn’s frame. Tarn struggled and then slowly began to melt into sintered sentio metallico. When Ratchet tore his optics away from Drift the other slivers were already gone, unbound with Tarn’s death.

Drift hauled himself to his feet and began to stagger towards Ratchet. Ratchet ran to him, digging back into his protocols to enable his hearing again. "I told you to go!" Ratchet yelled, scooping Drift up into his arms and burying his face against his chest. "I told you to go so you’d be safe."

Drift’s vocalyzer crackled and hissed, melted beyond function. But then his voice echoed against the sparkbond, perfectly clear.

>>You told me to go home, Ratchet. You’re home.<<

"What in the pits is going on?" Orion shouted, throwing the door to the clinic open. Roller staggered in behind him, looking around frantically.

Ratchet looked at them across his ruined clinic, sprinklers still pouring water from the ceiling, Drift’s mutilated frame clutched in his arms. "It’s a long story," he said. "This is my sparkmate. He’s a demon. I don’t suppose either of you have some green tourmaline on hand? I think we’re going to need all the healing energy we can get."

[tarithenurse]

Undercover ch. 9

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: a tad of angst, maybe some cussing, mentions of past trauma and current injuries, finally a lot more fluff. A/N: This is the last chapter, because if I don’t restrain myself you’d end up with a book length fic. Thank you for reading. Thanks specifically for the feedback to those who have commented <3

9 - The last Chapter?

Something is itching the back of my hand, but my limbs are too heavy too move and lying in the plush, warm cocoon is the most comfortable I can remember being for half an eternity. I can’t recall how long. Stirring my sluggish memories, I catch fragments and glimpses out of order. It feels like I should know the combination in much the same way as a puzzle I know I’ve completed in the past, but don’t remember the image of and looking at the individual pieces gives too little information. To top it all off, each attempt makes my brain work slower. It makes me tired.

The itch on my hand is back. Maybe that’s what wakes me again or perhaps it’s the distant murmur of voices. Who’s talking? The female voice doesn’t belong to any of the girls, and the man…no, that’s not how the boss’s goons would talk to us. I have to fight my eyelids before they agree to stay up, allowing me to look around the room I’m in. White and blue linen covers the bedding which in turn is tugged neatly down on either side by the bed rails. I find my hands lying on top of the covers, and into the back of one of these slightly alien limbs is a dropline. Oh…that would explain. Fumbling, I try to get my hands to meet over my belly, but somehow, I’ve got my left arm stuck in some wires, and I feel the tug on my skin under the white hospital gown I’ve been dressed in. Grabbing the wires, I tug sharply the other way, and I’m mighty proud of myself as I feel them let go of whatever plug they’ve been in…but the pride evaporates the instant an incessant beeping fills the room. It’s not loud as such, just annoying enough that I try to block it out by clasping my palms to my ears.

A door, which I only now notice, is slammed open to grant entrance to a flock of people. There she is, leading the charge and with the red hair whipping around her face. Natasha. She’s got jeans and a tank top on with a sweater over that looks a million sizes too big, completely different from the monochrome suit she last was sporting, but even in casual clothes the agent’s still unable to hide that she’s ready to fight anything if she must.

“[Y/N]!” It’s a wonder to behold as the thin line of a mouth unfurls into a bright smile, making Natasha’s face radiate. “You’re awake…kept me waiting long enough, babe.”

The endearment awakens butterflies in my belly. She’s by the bedside now, ignoring the doctors and nurses who’re plugging the wires back in the machine and do all sorts of other things. I can’t be bothered to check what they’re busy with either, all I care about is her smile and the way she holds my hand as if I might take off running any minute. But where would I go? In fact…

“Where are we?” I grimace at the hoarseness of my voice.

Reaching out, Natasha brushes some hair out of my face. “Somewhere safe.”

Although it’s comforting to hear, it’s not very informative or even surprising. Anything involving this kind of medical care and this hero must be good. The entire place is, now that I begin to look around, impressively high-tech and too spacious to be part of any publicly accessible hospital, not to mention that the bit of the view through the windows is full of sky and the top of buildings trying to reach as high as the one we’re in. By the door that everybody came running through is the triangular shape of Captain America and a smaller, but well trained, guy with short, messy hair. He looks friendly enough, I try to convince myself half-heartedly.

“You remember Steve, right?” Natasha has been watching me as I take in the surroundings.

“Yeah.”

The Captain. The hero of old, an incorruptible good guy according to all the stories I’ve heard. For me, however, it’s hard to feel any trust at the sight of him because of what he is: a guy. So what if both of those men helped at the club? The sight of them makes me tense.

Next to me the perfect face brightens with a new smile as if she’d expected me not to recall anything. “The other guy’s Clint, he’s my best friend.” Leaning in to rest her forehead against mine, she whispers, “Why didn’t you say you got hurt? We would have gotten you out of there.”

“Didn’t realize, I think.” Her brows furrow against my skin. “I had to uhm…had to see the b-that Stein got what he deserved.”

Never before in my life had I shot anyone, and not only had I expected it to be harder to actually pull the trigger, I also don’t feel any of the guilt I thought I would have to deal with. Maybe it’ll come. Pushing the concern away, I refocus on my body, sensing a dull ache in my right side for the first time. Yanking the covers and the gown they’ve dressed me in aside reveals very little (except that the movements makes it hurt a bit more) because the area is covered by thick bandages.

“It’s time [Y/N] gets some rest.”

It’s a petite Asian doctor talking, and she might as well have cast a spell because my eyelids get too heavy to keep open and the voices seem to come from further and further away.

…

I’m not entirely awake at first, but the pain that burns through my right side as I try to turn does the trick. Swearing loudly doesn’t soothe the pain, but it feels good anyways and I add few extra for good measure.

“You were lucky,” the petite Asian doctor addresses me from the door, “out of all the things that could’ve happened, it only hit your liver.” She’s made it to the tower of screens and is studying my vitals or whatever it shows. “I’m Doctor Helen Cho, by the way. You might be able to go home in a week if you come back daily the first while and someone’s there to look after you.”

Home. The home I’ve had is not a place I want to go back to, and before that…no, that’s not an option. “That…might not be possible.” I really try not to sound pathetic. “I’ve got no one and nowhere.”

Nearly black eyes pierce me as I lie there in the hospital bed. “Miss Romanoff would be sad to hear that…” The tiniest of smiles is tugging at a corner of Doctor Cho’s mouth. “She didn’t leave your side until the day you woke up, and since then only under protests.”

…

At first, I don’t like not knowing where I am, but as time passes where people are treating me nicely and the doctors and nurses tend to the wound expertly…it changes. They acts like they want me to get better for my sake and not to make money off of me. Both Steve and Clint drop by a few times, and the initial mistrust starts to fade slightly as they tell about their lives as Avengers. I almost start to enjoy their company, but what truly keeps my spirit up is Natasha.

Doctor Cho’s right about Natasha who insists on staying at my bedside at any opportunity, sometimes she chats about anything on her or my mind and if not, then we just sit quietly together. It feels right to be close to her and the feeling’s bolstered when she introduces the habit of holding my hand and I discover myself recalling the kiss we shared at the club. Her lips had been soft and demanding, molding perfectly against mine...but each time the urge to recreate that sensation presents itself, I get too nervous. Why would anyone want me for who I am? It’s too foolish, too conceited, to dream that Natasha’s feelings could be at all similar to mine, that she’d want to hook up with me when she knows what life I’ve led.

…

We’re watching a movie one evening, when she pauses it and turns to look at me. Her grey eyes scrutinize the tiniest change in my mimic, making me nervous.

“[Y/N]. I can barely begin to imagine what sort of hell you’ve lived in and everything you’ve had to survive…” She bites her lip in a way that makes me wish it was my teeth…or lip. But still I look away because I don’t want to talk about my time as Stein’s property. “[Y/N]…” The slender hand cups my cheek, turning my head carefully, gently. “You don’t have to talk about it, but if I say or do something that upsets you because of it...please tell me.”

“Uh…’kay.” A heavy lump is cooling down my stomach and making it hard to breathe right.

Natasha repositions herself before continuing. “Normally, I’d just…do it, but I don’t wanna scare you so…is it alright if I kiss you?”

I don’t answer, I just go for it, crushing my lips against her mouth greedily and ignoring the pain in my side. Her reaction is tender, and she allows me to set the pace as the kiss deepens and my tongue runs over her lips in search of a gap to slip through. She tastes of sweet bubble gum and the coffee she’s been drinking earlier. As if on their own, my hands reach to hold this fabulous woman closer, but the movement makes me wince.

“Okay. Alright.” She coos, pushing me gently back onto the bed. “I don’t want you hurt, babe. You need to get well so you can get out of the med-bay.” And go where? “Well…about that…” It’s impossible to hide the blush when I realize I must have spoken out loud. “Would you want to live with me? Maybe find out if we can work things out together? I don’t like the idea of you alone somewhere and…and…well, it makes me happy to wake up and know I’ll see you the same day.”

The lump in my stomach had melted while we were exploring each other’s mouths, in its place are butterflies and a serene feeling of belonging and a happiness I can’t recall ever having felt.

“I’d love that, Tasha.”

…