#it must be disorienting as hell to wake up and not know exactly where you are

[eldritch-spouse]

[Part 5 of Gifted. Fem reader.]

Previous poll winner: Grimbly (56.7%)

TW: Creepy one-sided mommy kink, later becomes mutual.

New choice! [VOTE]

When your leg lightly pokes the smaller monster, his previously cute expression morphs into a smarmy, gross smirk.

" Hah. Looks like you might wanna reconsider. " His hands are on his waist as he regards the wraith.

" Fool. They're not in the right mind to be making decisions. " The other counters.

" Mm. Cope harder. "

No matter how hard you try to keep your eyelids open, they flutter repeatedly, eventually shutting for good. Your consciousness fades on Morell's chopping table.

...

There's a chirp. Then another. You hear something rushing nearby. A liquid. The noise, paired with a slight chilly sensation, becomes uncomfortable, forcing you to gradually wake up.

Eyes eventually parting, the shapes of the revolving world finally begin to make sense, and you find yourself in a garden. Not just any garden, the same one where all this madness started. Alertness seeping back into your form, wary hues scatter until they find a fountain.. If you can call it that. Yes, it's not exactly standard. The thing takes on a strange, bent shape which seems to loop in itself like an optical illusion designed to confound the mind. Water rushes down its sides, then up, then diagonally- Like it's crawling around it, alive. You'd imagine this is what a being who has never seen a fountain in their life would make, putting aside the way this thing very clearly defies physics.

You've been around here for a while however, and as such, you know better than to question the logistics of this location. The how and why of this reality is irrelevant. Nevertheless, the sound of water cascading and dripping aimlessly is the least bit soothing to your overworked, stressed brain, so, with a quiet sigh, you glance at the flowers who have been chirping all this time- Swaying and twirling at each other as if to communicate. To think those things have teeth. That they bit you. Cursed garden indeed...

" It's beautiful in its own way, right? "

Your heart, that poor, miserable organ which has been tested thoroughly throughout this entire day, threatens to leap out your ribcage for what feels like the hundredth time.

" Geez silly, it's just me. "

Bulging eyeballs zero in on the monster sitting next to you. Grimbly... Ah yes! The one you picked, good. He's far too close, thigh brushing yours actually. How had you not noticed him before? Shortly after this initial observation, you realize you're on a bench, and a quick self-check reveals that you're wearing an entirely different get-up. In fact, you're clad in what looks to be a pastel pink Summer dress with subtle floral patterns. Huh. Well, you suppose it's better than torn, bloodied scraps?

The bat monster notes your disoriented staring and pipes up. " Ah, I hope you don't mind. It's just, you looked so bad in that trash, I found something much better for you. " Bright magenta hues almost seem to sparkle at you. " You love it, don't you? "

Yeah, sure. You love being minimally covered. Now that you think about it, he must have undressed and garbed you himself while you were out cold. Slimy fucker. Regardless, a free dress is a free dress, so you nod cautiously.

" Yay. I'm really glad, mommy! "

Fucking what now?

You give the monster a subtle side-glance. This is a grown adult. He may be small in stature but this is definitely an adult. There is no way in Heaven or Hell he's actually mistaking you for his mother, this is very clearly a "thing". A thing he's involved you in without asking. God damn it, and here you thought this one could be slightly more normal. Serves you right.

" Uhum. " Because what else are you supposed to say? That he's a creepy loser? So are the others. You can only hope that he's a less powerful creepy loser. Hell, if all he wants to do is pretend you're his "mommy" and have you pet his head, then you'll consider yourself very lucky.

Wary eyes glance around again. It's noon-ish? Indeed, between being inside, with all that ruckus and calamity, you much prefer this twisted garden. You can still hear people in the vicinity, but nowhere near the amount indoors. All the chattering, cackling and yelling was getting in your brain far before you were even handed to Morell like a tasty morsel. This... This is much better, it has saved you from a pounding headache, and your body is only somewhat sore. You must not have slept on this bench.

Hold on.

You're in the garden. And what a large garden it is- But that's hardly the point! What matters is that, if you can get this one off your hairs, you could maybe try to find a way out of here. After all, if you're fast enough, clever and quiet like a mouse, would it truly be impossible to just leave? There has to be an exit. Somewhere. For all intents and purposes, this is the closest you've been to freedom ever since being dumped here by the Icon of carnality. Yes... Good.

A small weight on top of your right hand jolts you. You didn't even realize you had them fisted around the hems of your dress until he gently grasped one. Forcing a deep breath out of your lungs, you meet his big, rounded eyes.

" I know your day has been tough so far. How are you feeling now? "

That calm breath was fruitless, for those words alone instill insurmountable tension within you. How dare he? How are you feeling?! Fucking hopeless, how about that! Tarnished. Frightened. Panicked. You want out. You just want out. You want to go home, you want to see your family and you want to pretend that none of this happened. That you weren't picked to be some appetizer, some distraction brought on by a demonlord.

Tears slide down your cheeks faster than you realize you're crying.

" Oh. Oh no, please don't cry mommy, I didn't mean to- I promise! "

Grimbly scoots even closer, smaller, four-fingered hands reaching for your cheeks and softly wiping away the waterworks. Although you freeze, expecting some sort of catch behind the act, he only spares you a soft smile. Before sitting sideways on your lap that is. Ugh.

" It's okay, you don't need to cry anymore. You have me now, after all. " The bat half-jokes, earning only a sniffle in return as you try to gather your bearings.

Shaky hands hover, having nowhere to poise, until the waiter rolls his bright eyes and grabs them, manually wrapping them around himself in a clumsy embrace. He's smooth, surprisingly soft. " We can talk about anything you want, okay? "

What is there to talk about, your cynical side snarks. Yet, if he's responsive to conversation, for whatever reason, then maybe you can make the most out of it.

" How many floors are there in this building? "

" It depends. " Grimbly shrugs. " Today there's extra ones, because we're kinda flooded with clients. I just hope they don't rush to the aquarium, serving there is no fun, everything's wet and slippery and I don't know how to swim. "

" Do you know how to swim, mommy? "

Your eyelid twitches. " ... Yes. "

The monster gasps. " Oh! Can you teach me someday? "

You don't even know if you'll make it past today. " Uh, sure. "

God, this is awkward.

The waiter purrs loudly, exactly like an overgrown kitten, as he dips his face into your chest, struggling with his own horns. " Thank you! " He's nuzzling, you can feel the pointed tips of those fangs dragging on your skin as he tries to shove his face on your tits. You've no doubt he picked a dress with significant cleavage for this very reason. You don't think too much of your chest, but he seems fixated on it nonetheless.

Silent, passive seconds pass. You're not too sure what you signed up for before passing out, though, thinking back on it, maybe you made the right choice? The mysterious figure in the hood was so ominous, at least this one seems way less intense. Clingy definitely, but way less intimidating.

" You're so nice... " The monster attempting to become one with your tits purrs in a saccharine tone.

" Am I? " A sort of corrosive dryness seeps from you. Your patience for games is dwindling.

" Yeah. You're not like the other ones. " Grimbly hugs you tight, sighing in a way that sounds much too infatuated while he adjusts his position on your lap, tail swatting behind his lithe figure. " You're not screaming, trying to run, or calling me names- I knew I was right when I said you were special. "

Maybe you're just too tired to do those things. Or, better yet, you know it would worsen your chances of survival. The urge to yell and flail is right around the corner, but so it the other voice asking you if you'd like to live to see another day.

" You're perfect. " He swoons, shifting his legs on your lap. " You love me already, don't you? "

Your chin is grasped, forcing you to face the hysterical-looking monster on top of you. Ah. So you were wrong. He's not any safer than the other ones, in fact, he's apparently a lot less stable. Something in the blade-thin pupils of those sweet round eyes tells you it's a horrible idea to antagonize him.

" O- Of course. " You stammer, trying to smile in a comforting way but very aware that your discomfort is shining through crystal clear. Grimbly tilts his head expectantly, and your eyelid twitches a little. " ... Sweetie. " For good measure, you give him a couple of pats on the head.

It seems you've gouged what he wanted correctly, because the waiter relaxes, leaning into the touch. " I knew it. " He lilts. It almost feels threatening.

You try to focus on the relatively calm surroundings, hearing some flapping and thumping in the distance. Not for long however, because a claw hooks onto the front of your dress and slips your tits out. You can only tense, observing the small bat hybrid excite himself with the sight of them. It certainly doesn't help that the slight breeze has your nipples rock hard like pointers. Small hands practically dart to hold your now exposed breasts, the touch greedy and self-serving more than anything. He's clearly not intending to massage you, more so rolling them for his own lurid entertainment.

A not half bad suggestion crosses your mind. What if... What if you used his own kink against him for a second? Would that work? Worth a try.

" Grimbly! " You call sternly, making the hypnotized monster blush and jump slightly. " What do you think you're doing?! Is this any way to behave? " A small part of you writhes, cringing.

" Buh- "

" But nothing. " You insist.

The smaller monster's face goes from velvet to crimson, although whether that's good or bad is up in the air. He covers his groin, expression deflating. For a moment, you almost believe he's going to come to his senses and let it die, your expectations are shifted upside down when he gives you a teary-eyed look.

" But I was so good! " His fists ball. " I didn't touch you while I was dressing you up even if I wanted to so bad! " A shiver crawls up your spine. " I'm being good for you! Aren't I? "

No. But the way the pitch in his voice rises makes you second-guess the effectiveness of pursuing this. " Mommy, why are you being so mean to me?! "

God, he's creepy.

Fine then, he wants you to play nice? Might as well get this over with.

Rolling your eyes, you shove his face between your tits, snickering at the surprised yelp he lets out, which very quickly morphs into a content murr. Those threatening pinprick points you can only guess function as fangs drag across the sensitive tissue of your breasts, and you vaguely wonder if he's going to bite at any point. Puncture into your chest. The mental image makes you shudder. His arms dart to squeeze the soft skin around himself more, and you take advantage of it by sliding a hand right down his body, to the sopping wet slit he tried to hide before.

Grimbly whimpers.

You don't know what to make of this guy.

He's definitely desperate, and even if he's got admittedly adorable looks, his attitude is invasive and abrasive. You can see through his little disguise, or maybe he's just become sloppy in his excitement, but this little fucker is toxic enough to smell. You'll have to be careful with him. For now though, you can afford being a little rougher. You deserve it even, after all that's happened to you. It's a miracle your poor body isn't sore. It should be.

With little to no hesitation, you slip two fingers into that eager hole, getting rewarded with moans that the monster tries to muffle against your skin, now merely holding onto you. The way you pump them is merciless, fingerfucking that pouch and ignoring the swollen cock begging to be freed. The bat's legs twitch, parting, his claws digging into your sides.

" Ghh- " He tries to form a sad excuse of a word, but you don't relent, getting some kicks out of torturing him this way. The sound of his slit greedily swallowing your fingers is lewd and loud.

" Mm, what was that? " You cruelly egg.

" Ngh- Mommy- "

" Yeah? " Grimbly makes another senseless noise and tries to buck into your motions. Your placid hand rises to grab him by the hip, and although you didn't expect it, you're able to keep him perfectly still. Or maybe he's letting you? You sense you have more strength over him.

" Words. " You demand.

" P- Please- Please let it out! It hurts- I need it! "

Your digits all but rip out of his hole, leaving it flexing solemnly before a short chubby cock pokes out. A smooth and slick member bobs in the air, featuring a tapered tip. He's the smallest you've seen today, but that's actually quite comforting. Just enough to make you feel good, and not have to worry about how your body is even accommodating it. Again, you're sure Vesper tampered with you in unwanted ways.

Not giving the needy waiter a moment of respite, you fist your hand around his pretty dick, pumping him fast and hard, occasionally stopping to toy with the odd tip and figuring out what feels best there. The monster atop you twitches and gasp, legs jerking while his body juggles excess sensation. But by God, if the look on his face isn't one of pure ecstasy, open-mouthed and eyes rolled, blinking with each new flare of heat.

It feels good to finally exert some sort of power over someone here. You're not foolish enough to believe you're safe, much less that you can intimidate this odd monster, but you can trick your desperate sense of control, pet it like one would a frightened animal, whisper that everything is fine- Because here you are, making the waiter choke on his own pleasured noises.

Some mean, wounded part of you wants to make Grimbly come from a harsh, merciless handjob. You want him to quiver and soak himself hopelessly, experience just a taste of the powerlessness you've been restricted to since the beginning of this cursed game, this obscene adventure born out of the depths of the Icon of Lust's debased psyche. You want to make sure he reaches that precious peak of pleasure, and then rip all touch away, see him buck like a stupid animal after your hand, cry and strangle out noises of despairing frustration as his orgasm is ruined.

For a brief instant, you stun yourself with the peculiar nature of your desires. You never once experienced a need to be so domineering and cruel... This place is sinking its filthy claws in your brain and it hasn't even been a full day yet. It's a horrifying possibility. Besides, you don't think it'd be a particularly bright idea to feed those urges.

" O-Ohn- N- Not yet! "

The waiter's ambiguous whining forces you to attention. He's thrashing a bit more, no longer the simple squirming of an overstimulated body but genuine attempts to halt things. You stop the moment he taps at your hand insistently.

Grimbly sighs, offering you a glazed smile. " I don't want to come yet, mommy. Not without you... "

Although the look he puts on is cute, you're too riled up to give him any leash, sliding him off your legs and placing him down with jarring ease. He weighs so little, it's bizarre, he definitely doesn't feel that light, and your upper body strength isn't anything to gawk at either. Huh. While he observes you vapidly, the dress is hiked up as you shift to straddle the small monster instead.

He's positively dwarfed by you, which is equal parts satisfying and arousing. The crimson burn on his cheeks agrees completely.

Although you hover tantalizingly over Grimbly's twitching cock, you don't touch or line the monster up with you, enjoying the frustrated brow crease wrinkling his otherwise smooth features. When the bat cares to look up from between plush legs, he finds you boring holes into him.

" A- Ah! " He flusters, breaking eye contact.

" What do you want? "

" Mmm... I want- " Magenta orbs flicker between the sight of your bare pussy to your eyes, begging wordlessly.

" You want? " Grabbing his member, you don't offer the bat any stimulation, even as his legs tremble and he bites his lips at the feeling of your pussy lips juuust grazing his tip.

" Please mommy! " He whines loud and high.

You actually can't contain the laugh that rips out your throat. " Please what? "

Grimbly cracks, voice acquiring a growled edge that wasn't there before. " I want your pussy! I want mommy's sweet pussy I Hhng- "

Gross. You sink onto him like an anchor.

A risky move, but fortunately, he's small enough that it went smoothly. While you blink and gasp in strong shocks of pleasure, Grimbly cries out like a needy whore, and you bet at least some people inside that blasted building heard it. Let them hear, fuck it.

He's still panting by the time dark hands hold onto your hips, throbbing inside you. Pent up little man, you doubt he'll last much longer. Drunk on the control, you can't take much more stillness, starting to ride the monster as hard as you know he wants it.

Grimbly's eyes widen and his mouth parts soundlessly, you grab the back of the bench to support yourself and grin as you fuck down onto his pretty cock, shivering at every choked out whimper he offers. What a pretty slut, maybe that's what the other ones saw when they took you. And you can't blame them for being weak to it.

The monster clips out moans with each bounce, your legs more powerful than his, jostling his lithe figure somewhat the harder you crash onto him. It's addicting, something you never thought you'd need so bad. Chasing your own pleasure becomes a secondary goal, overshadowed entirely by wanting to ruin the winged monster beneath you.

Grimbly seems entirely hypnotized by the sway of your tits, it would almost be hilarious if it didn't help make you feel so gorgeous and desired. One palm leaves the discolored bench to shove his face directly against your boobs, hearing him groan in rapture. The waiter boy gets to work fast, rolling a slick tongue around your nipple and kissing from one to the other, only ever stopping to drool and moan out what could be mindless pleas.

You don't ever slow down.

Fevered with a foreign sense of glee, Grimbly's ripped back from your now soaked tits by the horns, you dip to share a domineering kiss with him, giggling into his mouth, peeling away only to stuff two fingers between his lips. He sucks on them automatically, and your hips snap as harshly as you can when he bites down, breaking the skin. The slight bit of alarm such sudden pain causes you is shadowed by curiosity -Then realization- As you see Grimbly swallow what few rivulets of blood he can leech out of you.

Vampiric. There's something you didn't see coming.

Apparently, the view of you flushed and debased above him, paired with the flavor of your blood and the delicious clench of your cunt around him is the perfect recipe for the monster to see stars, a mangled feminine cry released past your fingers as he seizes and pistons up pointlessly, his orgasm taking hold of him by the neck. Even then, only you remain in control, deciding how hard to milk his poor cock and taking every last bit of cum as deep as possible.

You only slow down when Grimbly begins crying and begging you for a break. Even still, you'd love to continue torturing him, maybe wring a second one out of his mess of a body. You allow yourself a couple of deep, calming breaths, trying to gather your mind in the haze of unfulfilled pleasure. Gentle palms scritch at the bat's chin and cheek, earning a satisfied, adorable purr.

" Mommy y-you... " He starts, when you rise off his spent cock, wiping some of his own seed on him with no shame. " You didn't get to come. "

" I'll live. " You shrug, watching him slump. Truth be told, your legs are a little sore from being tense with need all this time, from deliberately cunt-teasing yourself, but it's better this way.

While Grimbly slumps onto the wood of the bench and catches his breath, you focus on standing up to straighten the dress, comb over your hair, make sure the bleeding stopped, cover your breasts and think.

Your limbs are free, you're clothed and he's disoriented. The surroundings are basically devoid of others, it's calm. If ever there was a golden opportunity to dash away, this would be it. Hesitating, you glance this way and that, trying to estimate how far the garden stretches, if there's anything like gates in the distance. Which would be the fastest way out for that matter? There's almost a sort of smog effect in the air. Truth be told, the more time you spend out there, the less you like it, the more you feel like you shouldn't be here at all.

Which is true, you never should have been anywhere near this fucking hellpit. But it wasn't your choice now, was it?

Lacking any sort of direction, bare feet step onto the stone pathway that you assume leads North. It's hard to tell given how late it's getting and how blurred the sky appears from here.

You don't make it past three steps.

Something coils around your wrist, yanking hard. When you lose balance, stumbling, Grimbly meets your curved form with an eerie deadpan. When had the little shit gotten up? You didn't hear a thing! Your blood freezes.

" Where do you think you're going, mommy? "

" N-Nowhere, baby boy. " You try, as clear a lie as it is.

The bat tuts. " I really thought you loved me, you know? " It's ominous that you can't tell how serious he's being right now.

In seconds, more of a blink really, you're flung onto the very same bench. It takes a couple of stunted, very slow moments, for your brain to click that- Yes, the short thing you easily lifted minutes ago did, in fact, just launch you around like you weigh less than a feather.

You knew it was too good to hope that Grimbly was nothing more than a frail-armed little pipsqueak...

You try to stand again, jolted by pain on your right arm, which took the brunt of the impact. Something can be heard rolling on the stony ground, and when you think to track the waiter, his long tail slides an object from behind that twisted fountain. A transparent spherical shape is snatched in a four-fingered hand, you can spot something alive writhing within it. Fear starts taking a hold of you.

Grimbly unscrews the container and promptly discards the top half, by the time you realize it's imperative to start running, something foreign and wet has collided with your turning body. Frantic, you find... Strings? Tubes? Worms? Oh God, that's disgusting, they're alive and squirming like tentacles, what the fuck are you even looking at?

The purple and blue-ish things sprout to action upon the first blind palping of your skin, wrapping around your upper body tightly and latching wetly onto the back of the bench, jarringly forcing you to sit. It happens so fast that all you can do is bleat in terror and shake your head. The things pulse around your arms and torso, featuring a heartbeat of their own, invasively caressing your form. Your strength is moot against them, there's very little give no matter how hard you flex.

Panic-stricken, you can only look to Grimbly for answers. He appears perfectly calm, having taken the time to clean himself while you were bound.

" See? This is what happens when I can't trust you, mommy. " He pouts. " Trust is the foundation of every good relationship, you know? "

" What- What the fuck are you doing? "

" Nothing! " The waiter perks up, trotting over to your form and placing a light kiss on your forehead. You openly glare at him. " I need you to stay right here for me while I take care of some things in the restaurant, okay? "

" Yay! I'll be right back! After all, we aren't done. " The bat winks, seeming very excited even as he zooms past you. The last thing you hear from him being no more than a rushed- " Don't miss me too much! "

It takes a long while before you realize he wants an actual answer, to which you groan and nod, furious.

A tired, drawn-out sigh flows out your lips.

How many more times will you have to be tied up in a single day? It's getting ridiculous. From present wrapping to ropes to whatever these organic constructs twined around you are. It just gets worse and worse, doesn't it?

Minutes pass. Darkness starts to creep in. You have no way of telling the time and have long since stopped trying to twist out of the tendrils. Or bite them off. You really wish you could hit your head against the wall, maybe drag the bench out with you, but it's firmly planted into the pathway.

There's nothing to do except stare longingly at the open garden, freedom taunting you like the cruel mistress it is. To think that if, maybe, if you hadn't hesitated, put thought into it, you could have been a great distance away from here already... Miserable.

You're trying to roll your shoulders against the oppressive force of the mass around you when the sound of chatter becomes louder. Footsteps, laughter, shouting. Monsters. People are exiting to the outside area of the building. Perhaps for an event? You can't tell, but it's not important.

What matters is that you can't be seen by groups right now, especially defenseless as you are. That'll be your death sentence, the final chapter of your life's book. More alert than ever before, you start squirming in earnest. Like Hell Grimbly's coming for you. You're fucked!

" Damn it! Stupid fucking things- "

Your aggravated growl rings out as you kick and jerk pointlessly, only serving to tire yourself out. Eventually, a forced sense of calmness, resignation effectively, takes hold. You slump without grace and allow the back of your head to rest on the uncomfortable metal frame supporting the wooden bench. When your eyes open, expecting to see nothing but the distorted sky's bleeding hues, two monsters stare down at you from the rooftop of the gothic infrastructure.

No... That's a monster with two heads. A winged, horned monster with paper bags covering its two heads. One of which has a hole ripped onto it, a red glow coming from within.

The fuck is that one supposed to be?

You squint. Demon? But what is he doing on the roof? In spite of the darkening surroundings, you catch glimpses of blue skin, spotted and sprinkled along his bulky body in a pattern that's not too distinct from the one on the stone paths on the ground... Oh.

Oh. It's a gargoyle. Wow. You never actually saw one of those before in your life. They're not very common. Did he... Are the bags stuck on his heads? Is he meant to have two heads?

Momentary shock set aside, it dawns on you that this monster has been curiously eyeing you for a while now. You have no idea for how long he's been staring, perched there silently like a vulture. Perhaps he's hungry, and you're starting to look like a decent appetizer to him. An easy kill. Trepidation has you gulping, though as soon as you open your mouth to try and communicate with him, ready to have to beg if need be, a grating chorus scrapes at your brain.

Another voice joins the choir of strangers conversing not too far away, this one much more obnoxious and harsh, drowning out all the others. The clicking of boots can be heard.

" Can you believe that's all they had for a starter? Absolutely disgraceful! And to think I've been hearing about this dump like it's the be all end all of recreational establishments- I've seen better entrées in the slop bucket shitheaps of Gluttony! "

Oh, there's that headache you were fearing.

" ... Yes, m'lord. "

Two figures approach faster than the rest of the crowd.

One is a towering, very pale demon with sharp facial features and a completely ridiculous attire. The cape is just the cherry on top. Nevertheless, the fact that he's accompanied by a golden-eyed imp in a dress, looking bored out of her mind, must mean he's of some relevance. You glance between the small four-horned demoness and the one ranting angrily as they settle far too close to you for comfort.

The imp takes out a cigarette from her black dress' pocket and lights it to her red lips. She can definitely see you sweating bullets, though just as clearly doesn't give half a fuck. The other one is still much too busy yapping to no one, eyes cast elsewhere.

" I'm not staying here all day, I have better things to do with my time, I'm not like those abject failures getting ruined in there- It's madness, this whole thing! I can't believe I agreed to it in the first place. Are you even listening?! "

The servant jolts, choking on her cigarette for a second as the distant haze fades from her eyes. " H-Huh? Yes, yes of course your majesty! "

Majesty... Uh oh.

You remember the gargoyle above you, checking to see if he's still there. Surprise surprise, he is. Exactly in the same spot, though a lot more tense in the vicinity of this new pair. Between this dubiously intentioned gargoyle and the guy nagging at his imp, you're not sure who to reach out to for help.

Neither option is particularly appealing.

[randomfox12245]

Now that I think about it, Shadow lost everything: His only genuine friend was slain like a dog before his eyes. Almost everyone he ever knew aboard the ark was killed . He lost his home. Not to mention shortly after witnessing the murder of his best friend, he was forced to sleep in a pod for 50 years, only to wake up all alone in a strange time period where he doesn't really know anybody. Since he was asleep for those 50 years his grief for Maria was fresh (If he wasn't asleep then he would have had a serious case of And I Must scream) . From his perspective Maria's murder felt like it only occurred a few days ago.

That's not even taking into account that it's implied that Gerald modified his mind and brainwashed him

No wonder he tried to destroy the world.

But that isn't grimdark enough so we need to say that his life on the ARK was a living hell where he was experimented on and treated like a lab rat too

There is definitely a period of time inbetween the capsule Maria launched him out of from the ARK landing on earth and Shadow ending up in the freezer in GUNs basement that is unaccounted for. It is presumed that during that period of time, Gerald was able to "complete" his work on Shadow whereupon the presumed mind alteration took place, and after which Shadow was tossed in the fridge and then Gerald was executed. SA2 's story leaves a open of open space in the timeline for our imagination to fill in the gaps. How much during that time Shadow was conscious and aware of what was happening is also left unanswered.

I would say that Shadow seemed to pop out of his containment pretty on the ball and ready to hit the ground running on the whole revenge plot. He sizes Eggman up pretty much right away, and then dips to start swiping chaos emeralds and slotting them into the ARK. He doesn't come across as very disoriented, he seems to know where and when he is and is resolute about what he needs to do.

My personal read on things is that Shadow wanted to destroy the world because he thought that's what Maria wanted, moreso than out of personal desire. His initial flashback scene has him saying that he only wants to fulfill Maria's final wish, which he believed was revenge.

Personally it seems like that if Shadow had come to a realization that Maria's wish was for him to give the people of earth the chance to be happy and NOT to take revenge, he would have stopped the plan right at that moment. He had a very low opinion of humanity because of the loss he suffered, and those feelings don't seem to go away even after he gets his proper memories back, but it doesn't seem like his personal desires are factoring into his actions at least to me.

His scene after achieving his goal and the colony drop being initiated also seems significant to me

He's not exactly cackling with evil delight over the people of earth about to be destroyed. He seems pensive. Almost somber. He's about to die too, after all. His line reads in both japanese and english are quiet and resigned. Compare to the Pure Dark ending of Shadow the Hedgehog for contrast

This being the ending where right before the final level, he hears the memory of Professor Gerald's voice in his mind. He's fulfilling GERALD'S final wish, not Maria's. There's a clear difference

I don't think Shadow is willing to forgive the world, but he knows without a doubt that Maria would be very willing to forgive the world. And her wish is what matters to him in the end. He doesn't seem happy that his plan to initiate the colony drop succeeded in the end of SA2, and he turns INSTANTLY upon realizing his mistake. Like I said, I feel like if he remembered Maria's proper wish earlier on then he would have put a stop to the plan right then and there.

But there's a lot of open questions and room for interpretation too. SA2 gives you just enough to wonder for more.

[minty-mouths]

Glove

G/t, ft. Melone, slight mentions of death

Length: ~800 words

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You were not a very good Borrower. With no light you were unable to guess where exactly in the room you were right now. For the life of it, you couldn't locate a wall by touch, it was like a maze of wooden monoliths. It now occurred to you that scavenging in a new environment at night was stupid. It would be a good idea to at least rest underneath some furniture or something, and wait until sunrise.

Yeah sounds reasonable. While having lost your way in the darkness completely, you find a warm crevice, a soft fabric you assume. You crawl in underneath, getting nestled in, feeling safe in your little spot, it smelled so nice….

You do not remember falling asleep, but when you wake, it is not by sunlight, no. Everything is moving around you, trapping you in the shifting midst of it all. You are still wrapped up in the soft cloth, being lifted along with it.

 Vertigo gnaws at you as you feel being lifted up quite high, your stomach dropping. You can't see anything through the material disorienting you even more.

You wondered what was happening, and whether you have been noticed yet. Your breath quickened.

You are helpless to do anything as you sway along. 

Suddenly something was rummaging ruffling around, it felt like something was snaking in from an opening above, or what you assumed to be above, where light seeped in, as the material tugged around you. Welp you definitely were trapped now. 

Something large. It briefly brushed against you as the movement around you stopped. You froze at the sudden touch.

Whoever was holding you must have noticed something amiss. You didn't know whether this was a thing to be glad about. As the digit probed, you had no way to move out of the way.

You were stuck in a narrow pipe of cloth. You were squeezed at your sides from an outside force, probably a human feeling around for you, gauging the foreign form. The firm regular pressure was enough to still your movement, lest you get pinched, or crushed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Melone wondered what the hell was in his glove. It could not be some stray earring or anything, this was warm and not at all metallic. At least it was somewhat light. Melone huffed, hoping this to better not be a prank from Illuso or Formaggio. He frowned remembering them pouring slime in his clothes, it took forever to get the stains out. He rubbed his temple tired this early in the morning.

Melone shook the glove lightly holding his other clothed hand underneath the opening urging the intruder out.

It seemed to be stubbornly stuck however and he sighed, as he carefully squeezed whatever was stuck in one of the fingers forward.

He heard something, a quiet yelp as something light dropped into his clothed palm. And it moved. Oh. It was… a tiny person. Curious. He read about tiny folk before. Holding one however was an experience he could not vividly imagine like this! One drop could prove fatal, and they could disappear within a closed palm with no difficulty… How do they survive?

 Your back landed on something soft knocking the wind out of your lungs, as you had to crane your neck all the way to see the purple hair framing a large face, looming way above you. Their cold eyes absorbed every little movement you made at once.

He glanced over the skittish thing, fitting snugly in his palm, watching as you scrambled for purchase on the squishy surface. Traversing was difficult. Not that escape would be possible anyway. Your ground shifted, almost testingly until you had to cling to his pointer for a grip.

 At least they seemed comfortable on his fabric before, how else would they have been resting in his handwear?

Melone smiled a little. He could feel every little movement, adjusting his loose but precise grip,  reading your body language like a book. Were you afraid? Curious? Overstimulated? Oh how curious he was to study you.

“How cute…” He licked his lips. The hand not occupied with cupping you loosely, produced some kind of computer. Which he propped up on his knee.

“I'm sure you wouldn't mind a few questions would you?”

The deep smooth voice rumbled through your bones, your mind barely having time to catch up on what he was saying.

He didn't seem that tired anymore…

[shallyne]

Horns and Halos

This fic may remind you of The Heaven Receptionist (by taryntino21) and/or the Hells Bells (by see.ya.later) series on tiktok later on is because these heavily inspired this fic. If you see similarities, credit goes to these two angels. I love their series'

Words: 868

TW: death, mention of guns and violence, pain

After Feyre died, she's still in daze and barely notices her surroundings. An angel explains her what happened and where she is

Death wasn't painless. Death wasn't peaceful. Death isn't the things that you hear about when you're alive. None of the things people told you to calm you down. At least not for Feyre. She still felt the pain, still felt the trembles. She could still hear the sobs, the screaming, the gunshot. She still could hear herself begging for mercy, still felt the tears on her cheeks. No, it wasn't peaceful. Her body was burning, even after her heart stopped beating. It was burning and burning and burning, why didn't it stop? Why didn't she get the rest that was promised to her? Why, oh why, did her whole body hurt when she didn't even have a body?

Everything around her was so bright, she had to shield her eyes as she crossed a threshold. Feyre stumbled inside that….room? Nothing made sense around her, she couldn't remember how she reached the column she now leaned against. Surprisingly, Feyre didn't leave any red handprints. She could still feel the blood crusting her hands.

Feyre also didn't know how she reached the counter, which reminded her a lot of a receptionist's desk, no memory of waking over here.

Maybe she wasn't dead. No, she couldn't be dead because as the man turned towards her and smiled, "Hello! How may I help you?" Nope, that must be a hallucination. Ghosts can't have hallucinations. She must be alive because that man has horns.

"Help?" Feyre asked. She didn't know why she said that. She didn't know if she echoed the word or if she asked for help. The man took one look at her before he grabbed something and held it to his ear. A phone? Feyre shook her head.

"Mor," the man said, not taking his eyes off Feyre. "I know it's your lunch break but–" he rolled his eyes. "A lost soul just came in….yes…thank you." he hung up and then turned his full attention back to Feyre. "Do you need something, sweetheart?"

"Help," Feyre rasped again, gripping the edge of the desk.

The man in front of her nodded, as if he knew exactly what she meant. As if they already had that talk countless times. Feyre didn't even know what she meant.

"You must have a lot of questions. You can ask them all very soon, help should be here any minute."

Feyre nodded in understanding, not understanding anything at all. She opened her mouth, to say what, she didn't know, but then she heard doors open somewhere, followed by light footsteps. Feyre didn't turn to look, she couldn't turn. Everything was still hurting, until she felt a soft touch on her shoulder. "Welcome," a voice chirped behind her. Slowly, so slowly, Feyre turned her head, looking at the female. She looked…angelic, with her golden blonde hair, her white flowing dress and the way her eyes were shining. She smiled softly at Feyre, and a breeze was enveloping her that soothed her pain. "I'm Mor," she said as softly as she looked. "Come with me, I'll explain everything to you." Mor put an arm around Feyre and led her away from the desk, towards a lush seating area. "Good," she said as she helped Feyre on a cushioned couch, then sat opposite her. Mor suddenly held a file, she didn't know where it came from. "Do you know your name?"

"Feyre," she replied quietly. "Feyre Archeron."

Mor nodded. "Good. And Feyre, do you remember how you died?"

Feyre nodded slowly. "It hurts."

"I know, honey. I promise it will get better." she soothed Feyre, then explained, "Sometimes souls get ripped out of their life so suddenly that they reach the afterlife in something like a daze. Would you say that applies to you? Do you feel confused, tired, disoriented?"

It took Feyre a second to register what Mor had said but she nodded. Yes, she was in a daze. It felt unreal. The angel nodded and looked down at Feyre's file.

"You're a fighter, aren't you?" she smiled. "I can see that you fought to stay alive until the very end. You see that can sometimes lead to a shock when you enter the afterlife. You held so tightly onto your life that the echoes are still following you into this realm. That's why you still feel like you're in pain, you still have the sensations that you had on earth. Fortunately that will go away. You should already be able to think a little clearer than you did when you arrived."

"A little." Feyre admitted quietly. "I still– I don't feel good."

Mor nodded, her expression understanding. "That will all go away with time." she promised. "I will not leave your side until you are out of your daze. Does that sound like a plan?"

Feyre nodded again.

"Alright, my dear. Let's get you out of here, the front desk can get very chaotic sometimes." she said, extending her hand. Wordlessly, Feyre accepted it and Mor led her out a set of huge double doors. In her mortal life, Feyre would have admired the adornments but everything was so overwhelming to her.

Dead. She was dead. This was the afterlife. An angel held her hand. Holy shit.

[laupiehouppette]

Nothing last forever - To Lose Yourself To Find Yourself - Chapter 6 : Hope and betrayal (part 3) __________________________________

TW : There's a brief mention of blood and some wound and one of the images contains blood, but nothing excessive for an LN fanfic.

Attention all: There have been a few changes to Chapter 2. Nothing major, but one detail caused me major writing problems, and also a small addition of nothing. So see you at the end of this new chapter for more details. I'll give you a quick explanation of the changes, so you don't have to go back and re-read it. On that note, good reading!

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

He didn't even realize he'd fallen asleep. He can hardly open his eyes. Disoriented, in half-sleep, he no longer knows where he is.

It's only when he opens his eyes that he realizes reality. He's under a wooden chair, lying on a hard concrete floor. He turns his head to see a closed door planted into the floor. For a brief moment, he had hoped that he had awoken from a long dream. A long, horrible nightmare.

So everything is real. All the latest events have indeed happened.

Mono laboriously sits up against one of the legs of the chair, his head buried in his knees. He would like to believe that everything is just a horrible nightmare. That he's going to wake up somewhere, somewhere far away in the city. Anywhere but here, with Six at his side, taking her turn at guard duty while he slept.

He remains silent for a long moment, his head buried in his knees. The immense room in which he finds himself trapped is oppressively empty. The slightest rustle resonates in a deep echo. The room's silent atmosphere grows ever heavier. He turns his head towards the strange door in the floor. He stares at it for a long time, trying to focus his attention on something else. This mysterious door, leading to an exit, away from this hell.

Despite his efforts, his dark thoughts invade his head, growing louder and louder, and the silence of the room only makes them even more overwhelming.

He began to sob. He doesn't understand.

Why did she do that?

Was she exhausted? She couldn't pull him up? No. No, it was intentional. He still remembers the cold, emotionless look in her eyes as she let go. She watched him fall like he was nothing to her. 

Had he done something wrong? Did she resent him for breaking her music box? But... he had to do something! He didn't know exactly how, but that music box had turned her into a monster, just like the other grownups. He couldn't just leave her there! She would have been trapped there forever. That place had changed her, both physically and mentally. He had no other choice if he wanted to get her out of that tower, and set her free. Maybe... Maybe she blamed him for causing her capture by that tall man in the hat? She tried to stop him from going into those screens and opening that door, repeatedly. She must have sensed the danger behind those screens, she was afraid of what might be lurking there. So was he, but he couldn't help it... It was as if the sound was going straight to his head, and he couldn't block it out, even if he covered his ears. Every time those televisions emitted that signal, that strange noise, he went into a kind of trance, and something compelled him to go to those screens. He couldn't think of anything else but answering the calls coming from the TV, despite the piercing pain the strange signal was causing to his head.

Mono fidgets with the flap of his coat, pensive. He wonders what would have happened if he hadn't opened that door. If he'd just turned around and go back to Six. But... that door drew him in, like a moth to the light. He felt compelled to open that door, something deep down inside him wanted him to.

This is all that tall man's fault! It was that man who lured him into that corridor with those televisions. It was that man who took his friend.

But he's the one who opened that door. None of this would have happened if he hadn't opened that door, while she tried to stop him. And when she needed him. He was so scared, and in so much pain.

...

... He doesn't know who to blame...

At this monster for luring him into a trap and stealing Six?

At himself, for falling into that trap and endangering Six, despite her warnings?

Or to Six? For abandoning him here like that? Despite all they had been through together? He clutches his head, pulling at his hair. He doesn't know what to think. He knows he messed up, and he blames himself terribly. But if she was that angry with him, for no matter what reason, and didn't want him anymore, all they had to do was split up after getting out of the tower. He would have been devastated, he would have had a hard time accepting it, and maybe he wouldn't even have accepted it.

But now, after what's happened, he doesn't know. He doesn't know how he would have reacted. Maybe not very differently than he is now.

It wouldn't have been the first time he'd been abandoned by others, but with her, it was different.

She was a partner like no other. She had her odd moments too sometimes, but... he didn't want to pay too much attention to them, he had no one else but her. And that's what made her so strong, what made her such a reliable ally. She didn't hesitate as much as he did to do what was necessary for their safety or survival, even if it sometimes seemed excessive. And anyway, he wasn't really any different at times... Survival can push one to do terrible things, whether one likes it or not, but sometimes, unfortunately, it's necessary. And that's not all. She never asked too many questions about the paper bag he was wearing; she understood that it made him feel safe, and that was enough of an explanation for her. She didn't abandon him when he was doing... whatever it was he was doing with those TVs, and so many other things he couldn't control or hide and that would scare others away at the first incident. That's why he doesn't understand. What had happened to make her suddenly abandon him like that? Had he committed one mistake too many?

...

He's had enough. He is sick of thinking about all this. The more he thinks about it, the more it hurts. But he can't help it, he can't understand such a terrible act. He can't hold back the tears that start to flow again. He's tired of crying, it only makes his grief worse. Everything in his mind is so confused. He turns over all the explanations in his head, but none can convince him of a valid reason for having doomed him to such a fate. As far as she knows, the fall was fatal. And if the fall wouldn't have killed him, that hideous monster waiting below would have devoured him in all logic... He had a terrible realization. It come to him like a cascade of freezing water:

Six didn't just abandon him... She wanted to get rid of him. She tried to kill him. No, she couldn't have. She could never... She could never do that. Could she? Yes, she didn't give any pity to those who had harmed her, but they were friends. Friends understand each other, and forgive each other.

And yet...

He remembered how she took her revenge on one of those Bullies at school. The way she'd attacked him from behind and smashed his head on the floor... It had stunned him. It was a brutal, gratuitous act of vengeance, but he understood it nonetheless; even if that Bully hadn't done anything to her, he was still one of the others. They, who had inflicted all kinds of abuse on her, and even to their own kind.

... He was nothing more than a monster who wouldn't have hesitated to harm them if given the chance. Like all the monsters they came across; from the Poacher in the woods, to the Teacher and her pupils. From the Doctor and his patients, to that thin man.

But him, he was her survival partner, her friend. He would never hurt her on purpose. He would never abandon her. She knows it. He'd already freed her from those Bullies, regardless of the risks he ran (Many wouldn't have done the same, but that was no excuse for him). She saw him try to free her from that man in the hat when she miraculously managed to reach him through another TV screen. But the man had ripped it out of his hands. She knew he hadn't abandoned her, that he was trying to find a way to rescue her. (

Why then?

Why would she do this? What had he done to make her so angry that she wanted to leave him for dead?

She wanted to kill him and he doesn't understand why.

- - <O> - -

Deep inside the Tower, eyes are gathered together, exchanging moans and grunts that seem to make sense only to them.

One eye, far more imposing than the others, seems to be deep in reflection, while the others are busy all around.

" 𝔸𝕥 𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕝." One is satisfied.

The mass agrees in its entirety, with the exception of a few. This group moves forward, expressing their disagreement. " 𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕠, 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕖 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕. 𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕪 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕤. ℍ𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕞𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥. ℍ𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕞𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥." A good number of them bear burn marks of varying severity, as if struck by lightning. Some even have bloodshot eyes.

" 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖, 𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕦𝕤 𝕒 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖." others grumbled. The mass revealed more eyes, even more badly damaged than the others, devoid of life. Blood oozed from their orbit, their eyes glassy. Some were even deprived of their only ocular organ. The mass of flesh and eyes observes their lifeless peers, some with disgust and shock, others with rage.

The biggest eye, coming out of its reflection, finally steps forward. The others immediately fall silent, attentive. The imposing eye in turn analyzes the amalgam of mutilated eyes devoid of life. All remained observant. The largest then emitted a long, low growl, accompanied in the same instant by the whole swarming mass. The bruised, lifeless eyes melted away, absorbed into the mass of flesh before disappearing. The growls faded and all gathered in a circle around the imposing eye.

" 𝔼𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕔𝕪𝕔𝕝𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕕𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕝. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕔𝕪𝕔𝕝𝕖." The eye looked briefly in the direction of where the mutilated eyes had been a moment earlier, looking grim. He refocused its attention on the group. "What could be the cause?" he asked.

The eyes worked together to find a possible explanation, glancing at each other with a mixture of emotions. In cavernous whispers, they exchanged various reasoning and observations, either rectified or rejected by the group after analysis. Despite all the cacophony of everyone talking at once, they don't seem to have any trouble understanding what each and every one is saying. After several long minutes, perhaps even longer, they finally came to an agreement on the few possible reasons that could have caused disturbances in the usual course of recent events.

" 𝕎𝕖 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕫𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕕, 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝. "A group stepped forward. " 𝕀𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕕, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕠𝕟, 𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕗𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕚𝕞 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕, 𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕔. " Others added, pointing to the eyes, scarred with burns, which only abounded.

The colossal eye at the center of the group listened quietly and attentively to its counterparts, allowing them in turn to expound on their various observations, without interrupting.

" 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥❜𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕝, 𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕤 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥⨟ 𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕪 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤. 𝕀𝕥 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕤 𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖." A smaller group remarked.

" ℂ𝕒𝕟 𝕨𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕙𝕚𝕞 𝕓𝕪 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕗𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 ? "A few suggested.

" ℕ𝕠, 𝕚𝕗 𝕨𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕥 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕨𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕪 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕥 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕠𝕨𝕟. " Objected the largest eye. " 𝕎𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕝𝕦𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕥 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕤. " He paused, annoyed, before continuing " 𝕎𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕟𝕠 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕡𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕥." In a stern look.

Everyone acquiesces, silently, but no one is pleased.

The central eye resumes. " 𝕎𝕖❜𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣. 𝕃𝕖𝕥❜𝕤 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕪, 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕨𝕤 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕚𝕞⨟ 𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕦𝕤 𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕍𝕠𝕚𝕕. "

Once more, the masses gathered, exchanging experience and analysis, to put any relevant or irrelevant points on the table to sort out. This time, it didn't take as long for them to agree.

" 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕦𝕟𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤. " Added one. " 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕞 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘. " Concluded the burnt group earnestly.

" ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕤 𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕝𝕪, 𝕙𝕖❜𝕤 𝕒 𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕕 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕝𝕝. " Others intervened. " 𝕀𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕒 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞. 𝕄𝕒𝕟𝕪, 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕦𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕚𝕞, 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕦𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕨𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕔𝕜 𝕚𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖❜𝕤 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕦𝕥. "

The mass nodded in unison and briefly exchanged a few approving glances.

" 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕨𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕥 𝕙𝕚𝕞 𝕤𝕠𝕠𝕟 ? " One of the eye groups suggested. " ℕ𝕠, 𝕚𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕠𝕠 𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕪." The imposing eye objected. " 𝕀𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕𝕟❜𝕥 𝕓𝕖 𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕦𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕠𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟. 𝔹𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕤, 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖, 𝕨𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕠𝕓𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕒𝕗𝕒𝕣. "  He concluded. Again, the countless eyes nodded in unison. The gazes all turned in the same direction a little lower down, as if observing something through their mass of flesh.

Chapter 2 changes. I promise, nothing big, but it was really getting in my way for writing. 1- When Mono talks to the Eyes in the Abyss, he asks them who they are, since he has already dreamed of them. The change is that he's also dreamed of the Void of Flesh. Something I forgot to mention, and as you can see, the Eyes don't like it at all. I wonder why that is... 2 - The biggest change when Mono realizes that the eyes have played a trick on him and are laughing at him, he gets angry and, in order to break him further, an eye appears in the doorway, which terrorizes the poor kid. Oh well. Forget it, they're 'just' making fun of him by staying in their Tower 'dimension'. The fact that the eyes appear in the doorway was inspired by one of the game's concept arts, in which the eye - presumably in flesh and... flesh (lol) - appears on a door. However, this concept, while interesting, caused me too many writing problems (one of the reasons why this chapter was so hard and long to write). So, I removed this element and the eyes stay where they are, in a corner of the Tower, without merging with the door by melting them. Good news for Mono...( Finally one)

{ Chapter index } __________________

[talesofphantombandits]

Not The Same ~ Prologue.

Summary ~ Waking up injured, surrounded by exploding X-Wings would be scary for anyone to go through. But it’s ten times worse when you don’t know where you are or who you are. But there’s one rebellion pilot willing to help find the lost memories, even if it breaks his heart in the process.

Character Pairing ~ Poe Dameron/ OC (Jetta ‘Jet’ Nyx) 

Masterlist.

Tag list ~ @hoeforthefictional Let me know if you would like to be tagged in updates! 

================================================

For a second there was only a blackness in the vast empty space, everything seemed so calm and quiet. That is until a sudden white hot light burst into her memories. What had happened?

Where was she?

Who was she?

She opened her eyes to a now blinding artificial light. She had landed on her back, she knew this much because her tailbone was absolutely killing and now as she watched sparks flashing across the roof above her head, there also seemed to be a loud ringing in her ears which distracted her from the dancing flames hanging just to the right of her. She reached up to try to block out the sound but found her fingers touched something warm and wet instead, moving her hand away to inspect what the substance might be she only found a crimson puddle of what she assumed was her own blood in the palm of her hand.

She was beyond disoriented and confused as one might be that apparently just witnessed to an explosion of several jet engines, she hadn’t even registered that someone was shouting at her, it was only as they had gotten closer and knelt beside her, placing a gentle warm hand on her shoulder did she acknowledge their presence for the first time.

“Are you okay?”

“I- I think so, but I think I’m bleeding.” She held her hand up to show the women dressed in what looked like an orange flight suit her bloodied palm. Her eyebrows creased in confusion, why was the colour of a piece of cloth making her feel so uncountable? 

Where the hell was she?

“Let me see.” The woman had grabbed a hold of her face, turning it gently to see where exactly she was bleeding from. “Seems you have a deep gash on the side of your forehead that goes down to the top of your ear, looks like your ears have also been damaged from the explosion, they're bleeding from the inside too.”

“Explosion?” Only then did she have the chance to probably look around to see the devastation of what used to be a hanger, dust, debris and plane parts strewn across the concrete. Fires were still climbing up the walls and across the whole ceiling, people where everywhere some helping the injured, others running around hopelessly and some lay on the ground motionless.

It was carnage.

She turned back towards the woman in front of her who was looking back at her concern present deep in her eyes.

“What happened here? Where am I?”

She proceeded to help the wounded girl up off the cold ground. “You must have hit your head pretty hard, let’s start with an easy question shall we. What’s your name?”

“My name?” Realisation dawned on her how serious her injury must have been, eyes dropping to the ground it sunk in that she didn’t even know the most simple question a human could be asked..

“I don’t know.”

[peralta-guaranteed]

good trope or bad trope: one of them waking up from surgery or something and being so high on drugs they forget they're together and the other has to explain it

good trope GOOD trope good trope! and this was probably just a question but I couldn't resiiiist

-*-

It's kind of sad to think about the fact that Amy is already used to monitors beeping in a cold hospital room around her squad and, mostly, around her partner. They've been in so many horrible situations, so many little moments where she's had to worry about them, that today she's almost glad she doesn't have to. Jake's surgery had neither been scheduled nor planned, and there had been a whole lot of panic leading up to it when she drove him to the hospital wincing in pain, his arms clutched around his lower stomach, but the doctor's told her they came in early enough for it to be a more routine procedure rather than an emergency. And now his appendix was out, and he would be hurting and healing for a while, but the trepidation about that is nowhere close to the fear she's used to feeling while sitting in these uncomfortable hospital chairs, wondering when the person in the bed next to her would wake up. The last time she'd been in this position, Rosa was hooked up to so many many more machines, and she looked like a bad wax figurine of herself, all pale and stiff.

Jake looks almost fine, no breathing mask or tube down his nostril, just a little beeping heart monitor and some infusion in his arm. The nurse told her he'd be waking up soon when she lead her into the room, and that they could probably go home later that evening already.

(She also told her that he'd been one of the more amusing patients she'd had under anesthesia, which was not a surprise, and that he'd been asking for her every time he groggily opened his eyes for just a few seconds, which was not a surprise either.)

He blinks awake slowly, eyes darting around the room as if to figure out where he is, before they land on her and stay stuck, his forehead creasing in confusion for a second before he grins.

"Heyyyy, it'sa Santiago!" He tries in a croaky voice, and Amy reaches for the cup of ice water the nurse brought in to hand it to him. He's shaky, but he can handle it alone, she notes almost subconsciously - she remembers enough moments where she's had to feed him ice chips instead because he could barely move his arms.

"Hey." She answers with a softer smile as he gulps down almost the whole cup - considering he still hates water, he must really need it. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, just splendid, thanks." He quips before trying to sit up more and wincing, the stitches in his stomach upset. "What the hell did I do this time to end up here?"

"What?"

"I mean, I don't remember a chase or a fight, but it sure feels like I took a knife to the stomach or something?"

They look at each other, equally confused, before Amy shakes her head.

"You dont remember-? It wasn't a work thing, Jake, your appendix almost burst."

"Ah dang. That's not even a cool story for a new scar." He sighs as he leans back a bit against the pillow and carefully palms the space where she knows the skin is going to be light pink and rougher than usual from now on. "Sorry they made you wait around for my stupid ass to recover, or is the squad at least taking turns?"

She stares at him, her mind racing, and it seems to make him nervous. He's still trying to go for that usual grin, but his eyes are darting around, sticking to parts of her without looking directly into her eyes, and she can see he's getting fidgety. Mixing that with what he's saying, and the way he's saying it - his voice is different, somehow, more - guarded, or distant, it's hard to explain, but she only remembers it from a long time ago - makes her suddenly realise.

He's been given some very heavy duty painkillers and narcotics, she hears the nurse's voice in her head, so he might be disoriented or confused for quite a while. It shows differently in lots of people, so I can't tell you what to expect, but he'll be back to normal once it passes through his system.

He doesn't remember, she thinks. He doesn't remember... a lot.

"Jake." She gets his nervous attention back, trying to school her voice into something calm and friendly, instead of the equally nervous and somewhat excited giggle she wants to let out so bad. "I think you're still working through your medication. Can you tell me what the last thing you remember is?"

He leans back again and stares at the ceiling, and it's hard to read the emotions on his face.

"Just... regular work stuff, to be honest. Nothing big."

"Okay, then what is the last big thing you can think of?"

"Uh." He swallows, and Amy refills his water cup, but he doesn't take it. "I, uh, I remember Hoytsman kidnapping me." He laughs a short laugh, obviously trying to make it seem lighter than it ever was, but that's not the only reason Amy feels her heart jump.

His mind is stuck before their relationship. After Sofia left him. He thinks he's woken up after being injured at work, and there's no one there waiting for him except for a work partner who he's been trying so hard to pretend he doesn't like anymore, and for whom he obviously has to play the "I'm okay!" role still.

"Wow. Uh. Okay." She babbles, trying to find a way to be gentle and not confuse him any more. "Then, uh, I guess, well, your medication should pass soon, I think, and you'll remember more, so don't worry-"

"Amy." He's staring at her when she finally looks up, and notes her shorter hair, her far more comfortable outfit than the pantsuits he sees her wear at work, and even while high on drugs it's not that hard for him to put two and two together. "How much am I missing?"

"Quite a lot." She finally admits, but drops her look down into her lap, to her folded hands, and she unconsciously covers her wedding ring before he can see it. "A few years."

"Years?!" He squeals while leaning forward and then groans, because that has definitely upset his wound.

"It's okay, the nurse said it would happen." She quickly tries to calm him. "It's - you'll remember when the anaesthetic passes properly, so it's alright."

"Alright, yeah." He nods and finally settles into the pillow again, as silence envelops them for a few awkward moments, in which Amy's mind races through all the things he's missing right now.

"Okay." He interrupts her sad little mental storybook of their life's drama. "Let's play a game until then, huh? I call it 'Shock&Tell'."

"Jake-"

"It's easy, you'll get the rules. Basically, you tell me stuff I don't know right now and see how shocked you can get me."

"That's not funny-"

"Oh, I think it is. I know how much you like to have me speechless." He grins at her, and she can't resist.

"Title of your sex tape."

"Amy Santiago!" He gasps with a laugh, but there's hesitation in his eyes, and she remembers they weren't exactly at a flirting stage back where he is right now. "For that alone, you have to play a round with me."

"I can't think of anything shocking at the moment." She lies, and he sees right through her.

"Okay, then tell me the worst thing you think happens to me in those years, and the best. From your opinion."

She sighs and stares at her hands again, but she knows he won't let up - he's not gotten any less obnoxious from back then to now.

"Alright. The worst thing. You went to jail." She states, matter of fact, and watches his eyes practically bulge out of his head.

"Holy shi- WhAT?! Like, for a crime? Or-what-did I-what?!"

"You were innocent!" She says as fast as she can, and watches him deflate only a little.

"I sure fucking hope so! But still, what- how- why- ?"

"You and Rosa were framed by a criminally corrupt cop. It took us a few months to get evidence against her and have her sentenced instead."

"A few months." He whispers and stares at his hands, scrunching up the blanket he's wrapped in.

"You weren't alone." Her voice is soft and calm now, seeing him in such a state of unrest, and it takes all she has not to pull him into a hug - it'd probably both confuse and actually hurt him right now, given the stitches. "I mean, you were alone in prison, but we- the squad - we were all fighting for you and Rosa, and Charles and I visited you, and we- I- we never gave up on you."

He smiles, soft and a little broken, but he nods, as if that was something he'd always expect.

"Okay, now the best thing. Because lemme tell you, Santiago, you have to make up for that suckerpunch."

She smiles much wider now, almost grins as she leans forward to finally reach for his hand, entangling their fingers (to which he goes along almost automatically) and feeling her rings clink against the one on his. Jake's eyes are frozen on her hand in his, where he can see a shiny wedding band over what is clearly his Nana's old engagement ring, and he's barely breathing.

"Oh my god." He whispers a moment later, squeezing her hand almost painfully tight as he looks at her again, and she's still smiling.

"We're married?"

"Yeah."

"To- to each other?"

"Yeah, you doofus." She laughs.

"I'm- I'm your husband." He whispers again. "Even thought I went to jail?!"

"Well", she still laughs softly at the absolute shine in his eyes, the awe on his face. "You proposed after that. But I would've married you before, anyway." I would've married you before a lot of things you don't remember, she thinks but doesn't dare say, for fear he'll ask about those other things.

"You're my wife." He says, still stunned, and she nods. "We're married."

She nods again, and watches as the confused awe on his face turns into an almost relieved joy, and his bottom lip trembles as tears start rolling down his cheeks.

"Jake..." She whispers in turn now, her free hand (that is not currently being gripped by both of his) cupping his face and wiping away some of the tears that keep flowing.

"You're happy?" He asks with trepidation in his voice, and Amy wonders if the emotional rollercoaster is another side-effect of his medicine or just his lowered inhibitions. "I'm a good husband?"

"I couldn't wish for a better husband. You make me very happy." She's almost close to tears now herself. "I love you so much."

He gasps at that, and pulls her still gripped hand up to his face, pulling her closer to him in the process.

"I love you, Amy." is his answer, and she realises he means it, even with all the things he doesn't remember, all the things he doesn't know yet. "I love you so much. I can't believe I get to marry you."

His tears have calmed down a little by now, and she fixes her awkward pose of leaning forward and having both arms reach for his face by climbing up onto the bed with him, as he lowers their hands and looks at her with stars in his eyes and so much love on his face, she can't resist to pass the last few inches and kiss him.

His eyes are still closed when she pulls back and touches her forehead to his, and he's whispering again.

"Wow."

"Well, that's certainly an appreciated reaction." She giggles.

"Don't tell me I don't react like that every time you kiss me, because there's no way I'll believe that."

"Yeah." She smiles again as he opens his eyes and smiles back. "Yeah, you kinda do."

And just to prove it, she kisses him again.

[cas-kingdom]

Little Traveller

A/N: Hope you’re all doing well. <3 (Also… that gif!!!)

Find the OC version of this fic here.

Title: Little Traveller

Summary: While staying at an inn, you sleepwalk, leaving a very uneasy Geralt to come and find you.

Words: 2088

Geralt of Rivia shot up in bed the moment the first knock at the door sounded in the room. He reached under his pillow and pulled out the dagger with practised ease, whipping it in front of him with eyes ready for anything.

The knock echoed again, along with an almost frantic “Mister Witcher!” and he allowed himself to relax only slightly, realising there seemed to be no visible danger. That relaxation was extremely short-lived however, as the moment he instinctively turned his head to the space next to him in bed and noticed it was empty, that fear rose up in his chest once more like a phoenix from its ashes.

He spun his head around, eyes already having adapted to the darkness of the room, searching wildly. That hand rapped against the thin wood of the door and he snarled, shoving the blankets off and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

The creaking floor felt like ice under his bare feet, but he ignored it, grabbing up his sword leaning by the bedside table and striding to the door. He opened it harshly, and a woman immediately stepped back, gasping a little, hand poised to knock yet again. 

“What?” he snapped, a bite to his voice that would typically have sent anyone running. The woman, who he vaguely recognised as the innkeeper’s wife, thankfully took that as desperation, and quickly set to answering him.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Sir,” she spoke quickly, “but-but I saw your daughter come down the stairs and head outside. I tried to stop her and ask if she was okay, but I think she must be sleepwalking. She didn’t seem responsive at all.”

Geralt’s mind had been whirring since the moment the woman began talking, and by the time she had finished, he had already slammed the door shut. He briskly made his way down the corridor, sword in hand, the woman lingering helplessly still by the door. If he wasn’t so worried, he may have thanked her for the information, but his sole thought was on finding you and ensuring your safety, as it forever had been. The woman had said she’d seen you go outside, so he headed there once he’d gone downstairs.

“Fuck,” he breathed out once the bitter air hit him. His loose hair, tangled from his hours of sleep, blew about his face like a thin curtain as he walked briskly out into the cold, dark night. His sharp eyes began searching, darting this way and that, peering urgently through shadowy trees and along the cobbled paths whose stones dug unforgivably into his feet.

His main concern was that somebody would see a young girl walking alone and vulnerable in the dead of night and view it as a perfect opportunity to grab her up and take her away. It was utterly quiet outside, save for the distant hooting of a barn owl and the snuffling of what was likely a family of foxes nearby, but that of course could never rule out the possibility that the one place a stranger happened to be was also coincidentally where you had ended up.

An irritated and slightly fearful noise wrangled from his throat as he stopped in the middle of a deserted path, twisting in a circle, his palms growing sweaty even in the frigid wind. The loose tunic he wore flapped in the breeze, and he began to feel the first drops of an inevitable rainfall strike his skin.

For the first time in a long time, he felt his heart race abnormally, pounding against his rib cage as he continued to scan his surroundings. Sleepwalking. Never in your life had you sleepwalked, and yet here you were, your first time, and you were scaring him nearly half to his impossible death.

When a quiet cry sliced through the silent air, his head spun around, and his eyes just about made out the sight of someone stood by a tree. Quickly and with all the speed of nature and experience, he ran, feeling his heart skip a beat and yet die down the smallest bit at the same time, likely from relief from realising it was you. He made it to you quickly, dropping his sword to the floor once he was close enough. You clearly looked disoriented, and you were holding your left leg slightly bent at the knee, a hand grasping at the wood of the tree bark beside you. Just like him, you were in your sleeping clothes, though he could see your lips bluing and you were trembling like a leaf.

He slowed when he was a few feet from you, taking in everything. You looked fine, as far as he could tell, apart from the stunned uncertainty obscuring your face. Your eyes were glassy, probably the first of the tears brought on by overpowering confusion even within sleep, and he did not wish for them to get any glassier. He slowed his pace even further, watching you astutely.

Unsurprisingly, you jumped when you sensed someone beside you, and it took a few seconds for you to truly understand who it was, but the moment you did and a wave of realisation washed over your face, Geralt figured it safe enough to move closer. He’d heard somewhere that waking a sleepwalker wasn’t entirely recommended, and for that reason he had been prepared to follow you until you woke yourself, ensuring you didn’t hurt yourself or find yourself in danger. But it seemed you’d moved past the stage of waking up, and he could only thank the gods that he’d made it to you in time for that.

He knelt to the ground—you were short enough to only stand a little higher than him when he was on his knees—and gently grasped your forearms, watching with a slightly creased forehead as you slowly gazed around, attempting to make sense of your surroundings. You were frowning, and he could practically hear your heart racing like a rabbit before you spoke.

“Geralt…” you murmured dazedly. “I-I thought we slept at an inn.” You shivered as a breeze blew past you and he quickly yet cautiously pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly in his hold and rubbing your back. You shuddered almost violently against him, tucking your head under his chin and shutting your eyes as your clouded mind worked away, turning stiff cogs and grinding rusty gears. You grasped onto his shirt, encasing your frozen hands in it to better warm them, not protesting in the least when he shifted to sit back against the tree you’d conveniently woken beside. You lay nested in his lap, a tiny ball of overwhelmed hesitancy, taking in your witcher’s warmth and trying to work out exactly where you were and why you couldn’t remember making the journey there.

“You,” Geralt said, still rubbing your back, “were sleepwalking. And you worried me.”

You opened your eyes, blinking. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” He moved his legs, bending them slightly, and frowned when he saw a small patch of red on his trousers. Peering closer, he could tell it was blood, and he knew it had not come from him. He looked down at you, brushing hair back from your face. “Are you hurt?” he asked, remembering the little cry he’d heard earlier which had alerted him to where you were, and the way you’d been holding your leg up. Before you could even answer, he slid his hand to your ankle and turned it gently. You winced against him, noticing the sharp stone sticking from the sole of your foot just as he did.  

“This is what happens when you go outside without boots on,” he said not at all maliciously, expression softening when he saw your face fall. “I was teasing, Y/N,” he assured you. “But I need you to hold still while I pull this out.”

Your face fell even more at that, and you buried it back into his chest with a pitiful whine. Geralt carded his fingers through your hair as a comfort while he moved you somewhat on his lap, holding your foot at an angle that would likely prove to be uncomfortable soon enough. It was a small stone, and he doubted the wound would require stitches or any further medical assistance than the strip of fabric he’d ripped from the bottom of his shirt to tie around it. The blood on your foot was drying, and the flow seemed to have stopped quickly.

Gently grasping the stone with two fingers, he silently counted to three before tugging hard, pulling it free in a second and garnering no more than a tiny jerk and a quiet mewl of pain from you. He was quick, letting go of you for a mere moment in order to tie the makeshift bandage firmly around your foot, but his arm returned to hold you once more.

More and more frosty drops of rain were falling from the visible storm clouds above, and Geralt knew he’d have to take you inside eventually, especially considering your body—and his, for that matter—wasn’t getting much warmer, but he knew to move you now would only disorient you further.

“I didn’t know I could sleepwalk,” he heard you mumble a second later.

“Anyone can sleepwalk,” he said.

“Did I really walk all the way out here while sleeping?”

“Apparently. A woman came knocking at the door, saying she’d seen you come outside.”

You cuddled up to him. “I feel weird.”

“Let yourself work it out,” he told you lightly. “Your mind’s not used to falling asleep in one place and waking in another.” You sniffled and he sighed, leaning his head back against the tree and praising the little protection it offered the both of you from the wind and the oncoming rainstorm. No doubt it would be a sight to see by anyone who happened to walk outdoors—a man and a girl, both in sleeping clothes and barefoot, looking all but unruly, sitting against an oak tree in the stormy night—and so he was grateful for the fact everyone normal was asleep.

“Sorry for scaring you,” you muttered barely audibly.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he assured you. “Though I still hope you won’t be making a habit of this. Maybe I should tie you to the bed to make sure you don’t wander off, hm?” He glanced down at you, amusement gleaming in his eyes, and you smiled around a yawn.

“That seems a bit much.”

Geralt hummed. “Perhaps a cage,” he suggested airily.

“You’d lock me in a cage?” You drearily opened your eyes to stare up at him accusingly.

“To save myself from being woken in the night and having to run out in the wind and the rain to find you?” He rose an eyebrow. “More likely than you think.” A light giggle left your lips and he smiled, resting his chin on the top of your head. Life with a little companion certainly was a life to be reckoned with. It was never boring, that was for sure. Though of course, you didn’t have to ask to know that he’d follow you to the ends of the earth, even while sleepwalking.

He shook his head as a drop of rain splashed on his nose and peered up at the sky to see more tumbling down from the grey clouds. Sleeping outside more often than not of course meant he—and you, for that matter—was well accustomed to the trials and tribulations of bad weather, but when you’d been wandering outside for who knew how long, was slightly injured, and a warm bed was waiting inside for the both of you, there really was no reason to remain outside longer than necessary.

And so he moved, working past your exhaustedly limp form in order to lift you up and into his arms before he stood to his feet, taking his sword in one hand and holding your with the other. Your own arms wrapped around his neck, and you rested the side of your head against his shoulder, staying as close to the warmth his body still offered as possible.

He walked slowly, his feet twinging a little with each step, but he didn’t find himself overly bothered now he had you in his arms. He turned to look at you, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get you back to bed, little traveller.”

 Witcher Masterpost

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Rising Lady

Pair: Alcina/The Duke

Summary: Alcina, in the middle of her growth spurt, struggles to get used to her size and the gawking and commentary that comes with it. She finds common ground with The Duke who also seems to draw many stares. (AU Where Alcina knew the Duke before her mutation.)

AN: This is another experimental piece. Warning for fat shaming.

Sometimes she wishes that she could be more like The Duke. The way that he handles things with a jest and a hearty chuckle. He is hard to phase and words seem to roll right off of him. For it, he is a lucky man. 

Perhaps it is that he is used to the remarks and the stares. 

At best, Alcina finds them rude. At best she can offer them a scowl and comment on the impoliteness of their ogling. Mostly it makes her uncomfortable. Mostly she finds herself shifting and squirming in her chair. People never paid her much mind before, not after Miss D put down her microphone and retreated back into the shadows of her castle to endure her faulty genetics. 

She is a quiet woman and was perfectly content to be an unremarkable one to boot. Sometimes she thinks that it was a mistake to trade disease for…

She stares down the extended length of her body…

For whatever this is.

She is a large woman and sometimes she still feels growing pains. Every now and then they shoot up and down her spine, along her arms and legs. Her chest and rear ache with it and on occasions, her belly. And on the worst of days she can feel the tingling sensation of  the mutation in her face. On the most unbearable days it is an all over pain--on these days she grows most noticeably. 

On these days she is on the floor screaming, tears streaming down her face as she begs her body to settle. 

Sometimes she doesn’t think that she will stop growing. She doesn’t know what she will do when she is too tall to even duck under the doorways. She has to get new clothes, a new bed, new chairs…

And every time she does, she grows taller still. It isn’t becoming on her in the slightest. It is grotesque and sickening. 

And to delicately salt a rapidly widening wound, stretchmarks have begun to decorate her chest, thighs, and tummy. Perhaps when she was some two decades younger, she thought herself attractive. She thinks that her beauty has waned since then, it was bound to…

But this? This is stealing from her the last fragments of her youth and an unhealthy portion of her confidence. And this time she is finding it difficult to put on a bolder facade. Truth be told she is terrified. She doesn’t know what she is becoming.

She is too big for her own skin. Her body is too big for the mind locked within it. And these days if feels like one very spacious prison. 

She catches a glance of The Duke sitting on the other end of the ballroom. She wonders if the man had ever felt the same. She has known him for many years. She knew him when he was merely a boy. She knew him when he was much slimmer. Relatively speaking anyhow. She supposes that people always stared at him, have always had some comment to make about his size. 

And maybe this is exactly why it bothers him none. 

The village folk stare at him too. “How does that tiny cart hold up such a large man?” They ask. 

“That’s no man, that’s a…” cow, hippo, elephant, bull--Alcina wonders which they will pick this time. 

“I think even elephants ain’t that big.” Responds another man. “That thing could kill an elephant, I reckon.” 

And somehow, Alcina finds herself furious on his behalf. Furious where he only chuckles and says, “Just give me a chance and good footwear and I can wrestle a rhino with my bare hands!” 

Maybe this is why he is left well alone after the initial remark. Of she and her transformation they say more unpleasant things, crass and vile things. Things that she doesn’t like to repeat even privately to herself. 

She no longer feels right in her body, if she had ever felt secure in it at all. And sometimes she feels like an object. They make her feel like an object between their open stares, their routy whistling, and their constant remarks.

Somewhere down the lines she stopped being Miss D. And then she stopped being Alcina Dimitrescu. She is now, ‘the big lady’, ‘the tall lady’. 

Alcina burrows deeper into her coat, she tries to anyhow, only to find that she has grown even further. Alcina closes her eyes and very silently begs her coat to just fit, but she can’t seem to reach it across  her bosom, much less get it to button up. Perhaps she is, in her dismay, only imagining it, but her shoes feel tighter and when she looks down she can swear that her legs are longer still. Hadn’t her coat reached past her knees only moments before? 

She has gotten quite used to waking up to find herself less comfortable in her bed and night gown. But this? She hasn’t ever grown before her very eyes. 

And she feels nothing at all. 

She wishes that a soreness or a burning sensation would accompany her growth. At least then she would know for sure that her mind isn’t playing tricks on her. She hasn’t even that sort of reassurance. 

She has reached eight feet now. 

Eight dizzying, disorienting feet. 

“Look at the big lady!” The girl can’t be older than twelve. “She’s even bigger now!” She doesn’t draw her brother’s attention but also the attention of nearly the entire market square. Everyone should like to take a gander at the strange, big lady. 

At least now she knows that it isn’t her imagination. 

Her clothes suddenly feel much too tight for her, much less breathable. She isn’t sure if it is a physical sensation or the product of anxiety that grows at a rate faster than her body. She hugs her arms around her chest. She was a fool to trust Mother Miranda. 

Beautiful, youthful, and healthy Mother Miranda, who has swapped one of her torments for a new one. 

At least a blood disease is rather common. At least it is expected of a Dimitrescu woman. This...she clutches herself tighter…is unnatural. This is...

“Good evening m’lady.” The Duke greets. She feels the bench dip under the weight of him and frets that it will splinter under their combined weight. “Having a dreary evening?”

Alcina nods, “I can’t leave my castle without getting stared at.”

“Aye...of course they are staring, you are a beautiful lady, Miss D.” 

She clears her throat. “You are a charming man.” She notes. “But I don’t think that, that is why they’re staring at me.” 

He offers a sympathetic chuckle. “Yes, perhaps not.” He shifts from side to side, it takes her a moment to realize that he is feeling for a lighter in his side pockets. Upon finding it, he plucks a cigar from his chest pocket. “Fancy a smoke?”

“A drink would be more helpful.” She confesses. 

“You’ll make me waddle all the way back to my stall?” 

“If you’ll be so kind, Duke.” 

For only a moment, the time that it takes him to walk to his stall and back, attention is taken from her. Her heart aches for the man; he’s a strange one but a good natured one. Perhaps the only gentleman left in this damnable town. And they treat him with such disrespect and mockery. It isn’t enough to rudely gawk. No, they also have to mimic his wide gait and make attempts to shove him over. 

By God, were she him she would shove them down and crush them. He could be quite a punishing force were he a cureler man. She wonders how long it will take before the villagers make a game of trying to topple her. She wonders how long it will take before she grows sick of them and tests her own strength. She can’t imagine that this body is just for show. It isn’t as frail an delicate as the one she’d had before. 

“You gonna share with the lady or is that all for you?” She hears someone quip.

“If it was for me there’d be a lot more food than this!” He declares proudly. He comes back with a bottle of wine and a raspberry spongecake. 

“You spoil me, Duke.” She takes the treat. 

“You have been having a troubling week, Lady Dimitrescu. I thought that I would bake something special for you.” He takes a drag from his cigar. 

She could very much use special. It is nice to feel special and sometimes the Duke makes her feel just that. “How do you do it?” She inquiries. 

“Hmm?”

“How do you put up with all of the leering and commentary.” 

“Truth be told, m’lady, I’ve been hearing it my entire life. Remarks lose their impact when you’ve heard the worst of them incessantly.”

Incessant. That is a good word for what the remarks are. “At least they aren’t constantly salivating over your chest, Duke.”

“You would be surprised, m’lady. They might fancy my chest more than yours.” He wiggles his brows. 

“You disgusting oaf.” She grumbles. 

He only laughs louder, it is the deep and booming sort. “I jest.” He says, wiping a tear from his eye. “Honest, I just.” 

Alcina sighs, “you jest too much for you own good, I think.”

“Perhaps so.” He replies. His expression growing suddenly and uncharacteristically dim. “But if I didn’t jest, I don’t know that I’d be able to smile at all.”

“That’s how you do it.” She nods. “You make jokes so that they cannot.” 

“It’s a learned skill.” He confirms. “You won’t need comedy, Miss D. You have sophistication and a pretty face.”

She thinks that her pretty face may be part of the problem. A double edged sword that brings her a last scrap of confidence at the same time as it seems to attract the most dull of men. “My face isn’t what troubles me, Duke.” 

The man nods. “I can imagine. You have changed. And not slowly either. It must be difficult to adjust.” 

“Yes.”  She takes another dainty nibble of her cake and a less than refined swig of wine. 

“Well those simpletons would do well to respect you. I mean look at you…” she tries not to do that. “You can break any one of them.”

“Why haven’t you? Crushed one of them I mean.” 

“I could but then I’d be down a customer. They have a lot to say until I tell them that the shop’s closed and they’ll have to get their wears elsewhere. They’re all gentlefolk then. Hell, they’re even willing to pay double.”

“At least someone in this town has intellect.”

“And it’s all right here.” He chuckles with a sturdy pat to her knee. 

Her face flushes lightly, “it isn’t quite as lonely when you make your rounds, Duke.” She doesn’t feel quite so freakish when he is around. And maybe it is that they are very like each other. They are both big people. Perhaps the both of them have outgrown this loathsome village. If only fleetingly, she wonders what it would be like to escape it with him. To find a new place and live out the rest of her days in the man’s company. But then she comes back to herself and she knows that she cannot. She is an oddity in this village, a thing to marvel at in a place teeming with bizarre things and curiosities. To stray to another? Impossible. 

A silence falls between them. He watches smoke lazily drift up to the sky and she, for what must be the hundredth time, studies and scrutinizes her body. Tries to make herself comfortable in a chair that is meant for people several feet shorter. Tries to make herself comfortable in skin and bones that have stretched well beyond what they were supposed to. At curves that are too new and too pronounced for her comfort.

She steals a glance at the Duke. He leans back, one hand holds the cigar in place and the other rests upon his stomach. He looks quite relaxed. He looks cozy and self-assured.

Perhaps in due time she will learn to appreciate her supple curves and accept what she has become. 

Perhaps in due time she, like the Duke, will have a confidence to match with her size.

[another-tmnt-writer]

You Fell From the Sky

Leonardo x Reader

Author: Admin Mo

Prompt: okay this'll sound real dumb bUT- this universe!reader meets bayverse boys? like maybe reader wakes up in the bayverse and is very aware about the turtles? i dunno it sounds confusing but maybe it's an interesting prompt?

Note: I love this concept. I’ve dipped my toes in the water before, but this time, I’m going all the way. Also, I know you didn’t specify a turtle, but I zoned it in on Leo. I can definitely write another if y’all want more because I’m obsessed with this idea. <3

Warnings: Some language…

Word Count: 1.9k

“Okay, guys, don’t crowd her. I’m sure she’s gonna be disoriented, and-”

“Donnie, is the angel alright? It must have hurt, falling from heaven.”

“Get outta the way, Mikey. Go wash the pizza off your hands.”

“Could we give her some room, please?”

The voices echoed around in your head, which was pounding painfully. You opened your eyes and everything was blurry. You were just about positive you were hallucinating, because when your vision finally started to come into focus, you were surrounded by four very tall, very familiar mutant turtles.

“No fucking way…” you murmured, looking up at each of them. They were even more detailed and lifelike than they were in the movies. Which was to say, very lifelike.

“Not the reaction I expected, but I’ll take it.” Mikey smiled, shifting to present himself to you. “The name’s Michelangelo, but the ladies call me—”

“Mikey, yeah, I know.” You cut him off and he gaped at you, his blue eyes wide.

“Are ya psychic or something?” Raph asked. You stared at him for a long second. His muscles were impossibly large, his eyes just as green as you thought they’d be.

“N-No, not exactly. I…well, I’m pretty sure I’m from an alternate universe. Or something.” You looked at Donnie, who was furiously taking notes and way taller than you expected him to be, and then to Leo, whose arms were crossed, his clear blue eyes analyzing everything you said. “Because where I come from, you guys are fictional.”

“Woah. I did not expect that.” Mikey said, looking at Raph for some sort of reaction from his older brother. “Bro, did you—”

“Shut up for like two seconds.” Raph snapped, his attention turning to you. “Can you say that one more time?”

“You guys are fictional. When I was growing up, I watched your cartoons, collected action figures, read your comics…This is unreal.”

“Comic books?” Donnie inquired.

“Cartoons?!” Mikey’s eyes widened.

You nodded.

“So…you know everything about us?” Leo asked, a twinkle of amusement working its way into his icy gaze. He wasn’t quite convinced yet, but he had to admit you were convincing at the very least.

“I mean, not really. Kind of. Maybe?” You shrugged. “I know you have a bonsai in your room.”

You didn’t think it was possible for them to blush, but after that comment, Leo proved you wrong, chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Just about everything then, yeah.”

“So what happened, Donnie? Why am I here?”

Donnie straightened up when you addressed him by name. “Uh, well, I was trying to figure that out, actually. We were out on patrol and there was a bright flash in the sky and you fell from it.”

“Leo caught you even though I called dibs.” Mikey pouted.

“You saved my life.” You gasped and looked up at Leo. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t just let you fall, ma’am.”

“(Y/N).” You introduced. “My name is (Y/N).”

“Well, (Y/N), I hope ya like the smell of sewer.” Raph chuckled. “If not, you’ll get used to it.”

***

The turtles spent the rest of the day asking you lots of questions about your world and the representations of them that were in it. You told them that the universe they were in was closest to a series of movies by Michael Bay, which, Raph and Mikey found exciting given their love of the Transformers movies.

Leo didn’t say much, but he was always in the room, listening. When night came, Donnie was the first to leave the room, retreating to work in his lab. Then Leo went to his room to sharpen his swords and water his bonsai. Raph went to sleep next, and Mikey stayed up the latest, playing Mariokart with you until pretty close to dawn. You’d almost forgotten that the boys usually slept during the day.

When you were out alone in the living room, Leo came into the room, holding a large knitted blanket and a pillow, a tentative look on his face.

“Hey.” He approached you quietly. “I figured you’d need these. It gets kind of cold down here.”

“Thanks, Leo.” You tucked your hair behind your ear. “I really appreciate you guys letting me crash here.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least we could do.” He shook the blanket out and draped it over your legs. “If you need anything, my room is over there.” He pointed back towards where he’d come from.

“Thank you.” You smiled. “I’m sure Donnie will figure this all out soon enough and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay for as long as that takes.” Leo smiled and then added, “Good night.”

“Night!”

Once he was gone, you laid down on the couch and stared up into the darkness for a little while, thinking about the events of the day. You were stranded in the Bayverse. And…well, actually, you weren’t all that upset about it.

***

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you half expected it to all have been a dream. I mean, that was the only logical explanation, right? Well, then you took a look around at your surroundings and realized that it was three in the afternoon and you were in the lair instead of your bedroom.

Once you stretched and got your bearings, you got up and walked to the kitchen, where Splinter was pouring tea from a teapot.

“And you must be the girl who fell from the sky.”

You had to stop and admire him for a second. Master Splinter, the boys’ dad, a wealth of endless support and wisdom. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t looked up to him when you were young. Hell, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t look up to him now when you needed advice.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” You were shaking. “I’m not sure if the boys told you where I’m from…”

“They have, yes.” He nodded. “Donatello told me of the alternate universe you came from.”

“You helped me through so much when I was growing up. You all did. It’s really surreal being here.”

Splinter smiled and stroked his beard, that wise twinkle in his eyes. “I’m glad you found your way to us, child. We’ll make your stay here as easy as possible.”

“Thank you.”

“(Y/N), I made eggs.” Leonardo’s voice from behind you scared the hell out of you.

You jumped and turned around, laughing as your racing heart slowed back down to normal.

“Sorry. Do you like eggs?”

“I do, yeah.” You chuckled. “Thank you, Leo.”

“Of course. They’re on the stove.”

“There’s cheese on the counter!!” Mikey added, already sitting at the table. “I saved you a chair over here, angelcakes.”

You had to admit, hearing him say that in person did make your heart flutter a little bit. You put some eggs and toast (with jam, provided by Donatello) on a plate, sprinkled some shredded cheddar on top and settled into the seat Mikey had saved, conveniently located between the youngest brother and the leader in blue.

“So every day, you guys wake up this late?” You asked, still a little bewildered that breakfast was at three in the afternoon.

“That’s just the downside of living in the shadows.” Raph shrugged. “But it ain’t so bad.”

“Right, of course. It’s just different than what I’m used to is all.”

“So what do you do, normally? Like, in your world, I mean.” Donatello asked. He didn’t have his notebook on hand, but you could tell he was taking mental notes.

“Well, I’m a student. I’m in college. I read comics and watch movies, and sometimes I write in my free time.”

“Comics about us?” Mikey raised an eyebrow, smiling knowingly.

Your cheeks burned red and you laughed. “Maaaaaaybe.”

Leo let out a little sigh and shook his head. “That’s still so weird to me.”

“Let me tell you, that’s a two way street.” You chuckled. Even thinking about it was still almost too weird to comprehend. You pulled out your phone, which still worked, fortunately, and went through your photos, scrolling all the way back to Halloween. You held it up to show them. “My roommates and I were you guys for Halloween.”

“And you were Leader Boy, huh?” Raph pointed out. “Noted.”

“I mean, yeah.” You didn’t think your face could get any more red.

“Wait, Leo’s your favorite?” Mikey pouted. “Aww…”

“I don’t think it’s fair to pick favorites. I like all of you guys for different reasons.”

“It’s alright if you admit you had a crush on Leo.” Raph whispered, cupping a hand around his mouth.

“Alright, alright, enough of that. She’s our guest. We’re not gonna grill her. She just got here.” Leo stepped in, a faint blush on his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t get the picture of you in a blue mask with little foam katanas out of his head.

“Right, there’s a two week minimum before we get to grill her.” Donnie added, grinning as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Aww, how considerate.” You laughed.

The rest of breakfast was pretty uneventful. You finished eating and then went out to the living room and settled onto the couch. Luckily, your backpack had made the trip over with you, so you had your laptop and some of your homework. Not that you could get online and get in touch with people from your universe, but at least you could get some writing done if you wanted to.

Leo wandered out, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, a soft look in his eyes. He hovered behind you for a few seconds before finally speaking. “Hey.”

Unaware that he had been there, you jumped. “Jesus! You guys are quiet, holy fuck.”

“Sorry about that.” He laughed, carefully sitting on the opposite end of the couch, giving you space, but still sitting close enough to make your heart flutter the teeniest bit. “And, uh, I’m sorry about them earlier. Raph specifically. I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable or—”

“No, it’s fine. Really,” you said. “But thank you for checking. I appreciate it.”

“Of course.” He was quiet for a few moments before he asked. “Do you believe in fate?”

“Until yesterday, I’m not sure I did. But there’s gotta be something like that out there for me to end up here of all places.”

“For the record, I’m glad you ended up here, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. His blue, blue eyes met yours. “Is it selfish if I say I wouldn’t mind if you stuck around for a while?”

“Is it selfish if I agree?” You replied, causing him to laugh.

“Glad we’re on the same page, then.”

“Me too.” You smiled and just spent a few long moments admiring him. The movies truly didn’t do him justice. Honestly, it was the truth: you wouldn’t mind sticking around for a while. For a long while…

Part 2

[lizzie-saltzman]

I’LL CRAWL HOME TO YOU

A Hizzie fanfiction / update

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman Fandom: Legacies Rating: M Chapters: 2/? Summary:  In many ways, meeting Hope in a different reality had helped Lizzie put things in perspective, and perhaps even understand her in ways she hadn’t before. Understand them, their connection, the palpable animosity that had turned into a reluctant friendship and now something far more tangible. The rest, well, she doesn’t tell Josie. Not about waking up after three weeks away from her real home, tucked under the covers of Hope’s bed with their clothes discarded around the dormitory, with a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and her hair sticking to her cheekbones. There were some things better left unsaid. (Upon her return from an alternate timeline a Malivore monster teleported her to, Lizzie must deal with the aftermath of her time spent away, and her newly doormat feelings for Hope Mikaelson.)

chapter 1 here

READ CH. 2 HERE ON AO3 or under the read more 

[ 3 WEEKS AGO ]

A muddy splash sends speckles of murky water coating a pair of white boots. Under the full moon, an owl hoots, as Lizzie Saltzman breaks through the branches that leave a bloody mark on her left cheek. She reaches for it, with a mumbled expletive as her breathing grows heavier and her knees start to give. Behind her, a black wolf with yellow tinted eyes that shine through the darkness of the woods gives chase, snarling as it draws closer to her. 

She’s been sprinting for a while; Lizzie’s exhausted, pushing past the burn on her thighs as she rounds a corner and leaps over a log dangerously set on the ground, almost losing her balance as her boot skids through the mud. Its drizzling, her clothes are weighing her down, her hair is ruined – if she had the mind to complain about the other terrible but insignificant, personal circumstances, she’d be holding an ice pack to her cheek and ranting over a Strawberry Smoothie. Instead, she finds herself here, in the outskirts of the woods in Mystic Falls, barely managing to get on her feet before the wolf catches up to her. 

“Lecutio!” She’s all out of magic after –– the ball of energy flies ahead of the wolf and crashes against the tree behind it, effectively snapping off the branches and watching as they fall near the wolf long enough to distract it. It wasn’t her intention, really – she was aiming for it’s head. Soon enough, the wolf turns it’s head (and it’s disorienting eyes) in her direction, growling.

“Crap…” And she takes off again, her boots splash, splash, splashing rapidly on the wet floor. This is not how she pictured spending a Sunday night. 

Her lungs are giving out, her body begs her to stop running; she might pass out from exhaustion alone, and her vision – on top of that – blurs as the light drizzle of rain washes over her face. She wipes it away with the palm of her hand, but it obstructs her already impaired vision in the dark, and trips over a boulder on the ground. Lizzie groans, her body rolling through the mud, and the wolf slows it’s approach. She’s cornered. She’s screwed. She’s dead.

The wolf stalks forward. Lizzie raises her hands to her face, and it launches itself through the air. 

Lizzie screams, anticipating the powerful impact, the bite, but instead another wolf collides in the air with her attacker. White, with speckles of grey. They roll around in the mud, snarling at each other, growling, taking bites anywhere their teeth can sink into until they’re both back on their feet. Lizzie watches, covering her mouth as she gasps, pushing herself back until her shoulders meet one of the trees behind her. 

Then, the white wolf attacks the black one again. They begin their vicious snarling, and as Lizzie finds the force to pick herself off the ground, she hears one of them whimper. When she looks back, the black wolf is retreating, disappearing through the trees, and the white one turns, even slower in its approach. Lizzie’s eyes widen, out of magic, and out of breath, but she turns around in an attempt to try and run away again. 

Except she spins out, when she feels her black hoodie being yanked away from her body, leaving her in a tank top under the rain that starts to pick up. She turns around angrily, but instead of finding a white wolf stalking back, she finds –

“Hope?” 

Hope is sporting her too-big-for-her hoodie over her naked body and watching her with her arms crossed over her chest. It covers just enough. Not everything. Just enough. 

“Oh, thank God!” Lizzie exclaims, throwing her arms around Hope in sweet, sweet relief as she tries to catch her breath. “I thought I was dead. Dead, dead.” 

But she knows Hope Mikaelson. Always coming through with her last minute heroics. 

Except this time, Hope pushes her away, hands on her shoulders, taking a step back to get a good look at her. They look at each other, almost comically; Hope with an eyebrow quirked and Lizzie, with her mouth agape. Then, Hope’s strange behavior is perfectly clear –

“Who the hell are you?” 

------

[ PRESENT DAY ]

“Lizzie!”

Hope’s tired voice carries down the hallway. Behind her, Lizzie can hear her footsteps approaching – faster, faster – until they stop at her side, walking in tandem with her into the vast, otherwise dusty library at the end of the hall, where students gather quietly over a pile of books raging from anything about the occult to the mundane – European History and an old, thick Gaelic book about Magical Portals that thuds on the ground as it falls sloppily from the top of the bookshelf and almost takes Lizzie out. Talk about head trauma.

“Hey, watch it!” Lizzie looks up as dust gathers below her. Alyssa Chang stands on the top of the rolling ladder, shrugging nonchalantly. Whoops.

Lizzie picks up the book, coughs, swatting the dust away and piling it on top of Hope’s already busy hands. Hope says nothing, only blinks away the speckles of dust as she trails behind Lizzie with concern.

“I haven’t seen you all day. Is everything okay?” 

She shouldn’t be taken aback, but she is, by the genuine worried inflection in Hope Mikaelson’s voice. Hope is tired, the evidence marked clearly on her face, vaguely darkened circles under her eyes that Hope barely had mind to conceal this morning with even the smallest layer of makeup. No one would be able to tell, not really, but Lizzie can. She knows that look Hope carries around like a weight on her back when something’s been keeping her up at night. 

In front of the tinted window sill, Lizzie turns. The yellow light reflects off Hope’s exhausted, blue eyes, and Lizzie almost stutters, opting to instead, snatch the book back from the pile already gathered on Hope’s arms and toss it onto the nearest unoccupied table. 

No, Hope. I’ve been avoiding you all morning until this very unfortunate meeting where we’ll be subjected to a torturous hour of incessant nerd rambling on how to kill the very same monster that sent me through a hell portal into another dimension where I hooked up with you and your unforgettable muscles and now I can’t even look at you in the eyes without thinking about it, so–

“I’m fine”. Lizzie says, saccharine sweet. Too sweet. Enough to make Hope suspicious, as she looks at the book Lizzie tossed on the table with an eyebrow raised. “I was having a perfectly fine morning until MG interrupted my strictly scheduled morning meditation and after reluctantly agreeing to meet here in exactly five minutes, the kitchen was out of Belgian Waffles, so I had to settle for a non-fat Greek yogurt. So yes, I’ve been severely inconvenienced, but it has nothing to do with you”.

“I never said it has –” Hope starts. “Shouldn’t we talk about it? About what happened…” 

Lizzie stiffens. 

“With the monster…”

She deflates.

“We still don’t know if there are any side effects to any of this. Doctor Saltzman said you refused to talk to Emma about what happened –”

“And now you’re giving me advice about what I should and shouldn’t talk to our school therapist about?” Lizzie scoffs, on the defensive, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “That’s rich, Hope”. 

“That’s not what I meant –”

“Everyone at this school is so prolific at internalizing every shitty thing that happens to us on a weekly basis but since this one particular thing happened to me, then of course I’m the one who has to have the damage control, witchy therapy sessions with Emma despite the fact that I’ve already told everyone who’s asked that I’m fine!” 

“Lizzie –”

“Is that why you were looking for me this morning? You wanted to check up on me?” 

“Yes”. Hope says sincerely. Its her version of an olive branch – honesty. Lizze frowns, but Hope touches her wrist and she stays frozen in place, like she’s been jolted and immobilized by an invisible force. “The same night you found your way back to us you rushed into the woods on a near suicide mission to help me fight a monster we’re still not sure how to kill. Of course I wanted to check up on you. I was worried. You left my bedroom so suddenly last night that I didn’t even have time to ask how you were feeling. I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to come back. I wasn’t sure if we were ever going to see you again.”

Lizzie takes a breath, defeated. We, we, we – she has no right to be stung by the plurality of the word, but it gives her that feeling in the middle of her throat, like it runs dry, like one wrong word from Hope and she might break down in tears. 

“I want to make sure you’re okay”. Hope continues. “You’re my best friend”. 

And that’s the tragedy of it. She’s Hope’s best friend. Anything beyond that is nothing but something she could only clearly wish for in another timeline. One where Hope doesn’t know about her baggage, one where they got a clean slate to restart their history, no rumors, no backhanded comments…

“Me too”. Lizzie whispers. She brings her thumb up to brush over the side of Hope’s hand. 

She thinks about holding it. She almost does, until –

“Yo, guys. We should get this show on the road”. Jed interjects, seemingly out of nowhere, picking up the book Lizzie had discarded on the table earlier and hopping over the banister towards the center table in the now empty library, where the rest of the squad has now gathered around one of Wade’s Dungeons and Dragons books. 

By the time Lizzie pulls her hand back and they both gather around the table, Wade’s already settled in with the group.

“– That’s the thing though. Dimensional Warpers don’t usually engage in combat, but they do like learning about their enemies and their battle tactics. They’re not usually ones to initiate but they’ll fight if they sense that their life is in danger.”

“That explains why it disappeared last night and didn’t come back”. Hope pushes her way in between MG and Jed at the front and center of the table. “Do you think it’s after something?”

“Maybe. I can’t imagine another reason why Malivore would’ve spit that particular monster out. They’re elusive, hard to kill, and they only come out at night. Their night vision is impeccable”. 

“How do we kill it?” 

“Well, they are giant, bipedal, flying snakes, but they’re still snakes. I think we all know what the easiest way to kill one is –”

“Cut off it’s head”. Lizzie deadpans. Everyone turns, and Lizzie stands on the other side of the table, looking intently at the picture of the creature on Wade’s book. 

And Hope, looking at the magical artifacts on the far side display, slumps her shoulders. 

“We’re gonna need a very big sword”. 

------

[ 3 WEEKS AGO ]

“Is your name Lizzie Saltzman?” 

“Yes”. Between two slender and shaky hands, an orb flashes blue. 

Across the antique, expensive looking desk in front of her, and a family portrait in the space where a tinted window used to sit, Klaus Mikaelson looks at Hope with concern and curiosity. Hope, looking taller and prouder as her hand rests upon Klaus’ leather chair, gives him a side eye. 

She remembers Klaus from when she was younger, just as intimidating and commanding as he had been the day he’d sought out their help to save Hope from the Hollow all those years ago. She also remembers the Klaus she’s read about, in the books tucked away in the very same library a couple of doors down the hallway; the tales about The Great Evil. The boogeyman to end them all. The man who had terrorized Mystic Falls and claimed New Orleans like a dynasty, the man who had courted her mother until the day he died — but she also remembers the Klaus Mikaelson that Hope had told her about. The father. The man weighed down by the consequences of his choices and the drive to ensure his family’s survival, their safety, no matter the cost. In one universe, it had already cost him his life. In this one, the story seems to have been painted differently. 

In this story, Hope is different. She’s prouder, she wears a scowl like armor but not with the purpose of pushing everyone away. This Hope reminds her of an heiress. Someone destined to inherit something bigger and greater than herself. Maybe it’s all this, Lizzie thinks. The Mikaelson School. Maybe it’s another kingdom entirely. 

She looks… Good. Really good. 

“Are you Alaric Saltzman’s daughter?” Hope continues. 

“Yes”. Blue again. 

“That doesn’t make any sense”. Klaus moves to take the orb from her hands, but Hope is faster — much faster — grabs his father’s arm before he can snatch it. 

“Dad, you can’t fool the magical lie detector. They’re simple yeses or no's”.

Klaus respects her, she can tell, because he backs off and opens a drawer in his desk, takes out a heavy looking file — and pulls out a picture of her dad. He puts it in front of her. 

“This man is your father?” He asks her again. 

“Yes”. 

And like clockwork, the orb shines blue again. 

“That doesn’t make any sense —” Lizzie goes to interject but Klaus holds his finger up, standing from his chair with his hands behind his back, circling around the office like a man with a decision to make. Technically he is… a man with a decision to make. About her. 

Which really, really gives her the chills. The bad kind. 

“— You see, Alaric is a slobber of a drunk man who unfortunately lost his wife on his wedding day. He was supposed to father two children, twins actually, and his psychopathic to-be brother-in-law murdered his fiancé at the altar. His daughters perished with her. He lost his Tenure at Mystic Falls High, now teaches a second-rate-history class at a local college, and he let the rest of his dreams die in the bottom of a bottle of stale whiskey and fatty liver disease. That man never got to father any children. He’s barely a man at all. No purpose. No drive”.

“Apparently not in this life —” Lizzie mutters. The orb flashes blue and Hope’s eyes immediately snap to Lizzie’s. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” She’s the one taking the orb from her hands in a blink of an eye. She’s fast. Really fast. It takes her a second to realize, as Hope holds it between her fingertips and looks at her with blind distrust, that the Hope in this universe might not be jaded by the loss of her family, but this one might be jaded by something else.

Like her own death.

Oh. 

“You’re gonna want to sit down for this one”.

------

The Mikaelson School library is even bigger than The Salvatore School’s. The Stallions were branded as the rich, spoiled, and troubled children of Mystic Falls, but the Mikaelson school rivals the self-made stereotype by a tenfold. Lizzie’s staring at a row of books about magic she could have only ever dreamed of reading — it’s obvious to her that Klaus Mikaelson’s vision for a school for the Supernatural was slightly different than her father’s. Somewhere witches, vampires, werewolves and others could live their powers to their full potential. 

She picks a book from the rack, takes another one down with it, but Hope catches it before it can fully fall off the shelf — Necromancy: The Art of the Undead — and pushes it back in its place. 

“If what you told me is true then your father built a school with the same purpose my father did”. She offers. This Hope, now a little less guarded and lit by the light of the full moon by the library window, is much softer, willing to momentarily let her guard down around the pretty stranger with the wavy blonde hair. “He wanted a place where I felt like I belonged. Somewhere he could offer a safe haven not only for me, but for all the witches, all the vampires, and all the werewolves who are forced to do all of this all on their own. The world is cruel and unrepentant. My dad knows that. So he and my mom bought this mansion, expanded it, and made it into a school for the Supernatural. It’s taken off since; we have a branch in Belgium and another one in development in South America. Argentina. Something about the wine…”

For the first time since she’d been blindly dropped into this dimension, Lizzie smiles. But after a much noticeable glance at Lizzie’s lips, Hope continues. “We thought all the Gemini witches were dead. They’re rare. Powerful —” Hope says. It takes a second for Lizzie to notice she’s sizing her down. 

She doesn’t want to talk about how that makes her feel. 

“You have to take someone’s magic to use it, right?” 

And Hope offers her hand. Lizzie’s brows furrow, but she takes it anyway. She’s siphoned magic from Hope before, but not a fully triggered Tribrid Hope. When she drains her power Lizzie feels an adrenaline rush like no other, like sticking her hand directly into a fuse box and taking all the energy in Mystic Falls with it. She watches Hope carefully for any sign of pain, but Hope doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t move, only watches their joined hands. 

Then Lizzie raises her wrist, flicks it, and closes all the doors of The Mikaelson school in simultaneous fashion, making the building tremble. 

“Something like that”. Lizzie grins and Hope lets her hand go. She’s grinning back and Lizzie doesn’t know why that makes her feel drunker than taking all that power from her. “The stronger the source the stronger and the magic we can do, but we can take from anything that’s come in contact with magic. This building, for example. A vampire, a werewolf — miscellaneous…” 

“Well, here at the Mikaelson school we’re always looking for other powerful witches. I know you want to go back home eventually, once we figure out how to send you back, but if you want to stay, we can make room for you.”

They walk past the archway, to a display case with magical artifacts and weapons of all kinds. Some she recognizes, like the dagger that had started it all that brutally eventful day when Rafael joined the school, the urn, an enchanted compass, Papa Tunde’s blade…

“We’ve collected those over the years”. Hope motions to the display case. “Some of them were already in my dad’s possession before we put them here. The display case was enchanted by my aunt, so it’s practically impenetrable and impossible to open unless you’re a Mikaelson, but my mom thinks it’s important to teach these kids everything we can about magic and everything that could hurt them. Some of them —” She continues, sliding her finger over a display case of weapons. “— are just purely decorative though”. 

Lizzie watches Hope’s finger land on the glass over a large broadsword. 

“What exactly do you know about my family?” Hope asks. When she looks at the display again, Lizzie can see her own reflection next to Hope’s on the glass, and when she looks closer at the weapon, their faces on the side of the broadsword. 

“Oh, you have no idea”. 

------

[ PRESENT DAY]

Sparks cloud Lizzie’s vision. At the old mill, in the dead of night, Hope sharpens a sword Lizzie thinks is larger than her standing up. She’d poke fun at her, for wielding such a big weapon for such a small person, but if the past few weeks — days — weeks — whatever, had taught her anything, is how immeasurable the power Hope wields at her fingertips is. Maybe she could provide them both with a quip, if she wasn’t so busy staring at her, agape. 

God, get it together, Lizzie. 

She clears her throat and Hope stops. 

“Hey! I thought we could get a head start with this old thing. Your dad kept it downstairs but I think it’ll give us the firepower we need. It’s a shame though, it’d make for a nice decoration”. 

Lizzie wants to laugh. No, it would make for an awful piece of decoration. She’d seen it displayed neatly on a case, but ancient artifacts and old swords make her think of ancient cursed castles and the ghosts within them. 

“So asks-too-many-questions Hope has now become knight-in-shining-armor Hope. I gotta say, I think I like this version a little bit better”. 

“Because I’m not asking questions?” Hope challenges. 

“That’s part of it”. 

They both laugh, look at each other as Lizzie takes her place beside Hope, until Hope goes stoic again. She puts the blade down, wipes her hands on her dark jeans. 

“Lizzie, I know this isn’t by far the most threatening monster we’ve ever faced but, I think you should stay inside the school. Kaleb and I designed a foolproof plan to kill the —”

“Why are you sidelining me?” Lizzie frowns. “I was of perfectly good help last time you almost got sucked into a portal too, remember?”

“That’s not what I meant —”

“Then what do you mean Hope? I know this isn’t about glory. So what is it? Martyrdom? Pushing people who care about you away?” 

And Hope is surprisingly calm, despite the tension in Lizzie’s voice, despite the way she raises it, despite the way it cuts through the sound of the chirping crickets in the woods. “No. It’s the opposite, actually. It’s about trying to keep the people I care about safe. I don’t want you to end up somewhere you won’t be able to come back to us if we risk it”. 

“What about Kaleb, then? Surely you care about him”. 

A beat.

“Not the way I care about you”. 

They stand there, in the cold of the Old Mill, looking at each other as Hope picks up the sword on the table, and Lizzie realizes for the first time, Hope is making an entirely selfish decision… And it’s all about her. 

[lluvguts]

Cool Blue ; Chapter Five

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

sneak us through the rivers

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

☽ warnings: sexual tension, heat cycle talk, touching

☽ fic masterlist

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Luca slept through Lorenzo's gentle wake-up of kneeling beside the cave bed and prodding one caring hand against his shoulder. Ever since he was a child the action became normalized, with Luca curling around his father's touch along with a quiet yawn and a sleepy lopsided grin at his level eyes. But now, with the blues of his bedroom brightening as the sun hung above their home, he wouldn't budge. Lorenzo cleared his throat and removed his hand from Luca's shoulder for a moment, seeing how his son looked like a stone at the bottom of a river.

"Hey, Luca," Lorenzo rubbed his back. "You slept through the morning chores. I think the goatfish are missing you."

He stirred in the stifling water making his scales feel congested and stiffened when his eyes opened to his father wading next to him. Now that he was awake, the uncomfortable heat radiating off his skin made Lorenzo pull away with a frown.

"Luca, are you okay?"

"Giuseppe?" Luca slurred, disoriented. He rolled onto his other side to face Lorenzo, who was now floating back to the far wall of his room, gingerly tracing the ripples of warm water that chased his movements.

"Daniela!" Lorenzo cast a fearful look to his son then darted from the room. Though Luca's room was separated there was still the mouth of the cave entrance that had no means of a door and allowed Luca's grandmother (or, alternately, anyone) to peek her head inside at Lorenzo's little shout. Daniela soon followed.

"Y-You said he still had a few months!" Lorenzo returned clutching the hand of Daniela, while grandma Paguro trailed behind wordlessly, smirking to herself.

"All I said was that seventeen was the normal time for this, Lorenzo," Daniela said in a frustrated whisper, her dark tail making rivulets in the water.

Luca blinked at the three of them, now in his private space, then growled. He couldn't really stop himself from doing so, he had been sleeping peacefully enough until they all decided to ruin the dream he was having.

Oh, cod. The dreams he'd been having...

Daniela bent down to look Luca in the eyes, taking hold of his shoulder. Luca winced and placed his hand on top of his mother's. She clicked her tongue in response.

"Yep. Scales are hot...He's sensitive to touch...Been sleeping away most of the day already," She murmured more to herself than to her concerned husband.

"Will be be alright?" Lorenzo piped up, leaning toward Luca.

"Oh please, Lorenzo. You went through your heat too, remember?" Daniela sighed and looked back to him with a scowl. Lorenzo flushed and averted his gaze away.

Luca found his voice. "My...what?"

"Your heat cycle," His grandmother added in, being the third and final family member to join Luca at his bedside. She snorted. "It means you're going to be ready to find a mate soon."

"Mother! I said we should ease him into it! Does that sound like easing to you?"

Mate? A mate? Or...mating? He squirmed at the thought.

Three very different pairs of eyes, all holding separate emotions, glimmered back at him. Luca felt their gazes burning into his scales and crawled away from the ledge of the bed to the point where his dorsal fin brushed the rock wall. The stone cave was smooth and cool to the touch. So silky against his tender scales and spines it made that odd pain burst through his abdomen again until it blossomed into an even more peculiar sort of pleasure. It soothed his feverish scales and reminded him of the practiced hands that had been all over him in his dreams, and as his parents argued only inches from his trembling body he bit down on his tongue to keep quiet.

"Are you in pain, Bubble? Where does it hurt?"

"Oh, poor thing, look at him shaking. Great job, Daniela," Luca's grandmother chided with a light chuckle.

Not for what you may think, Luca thought with an internal groan of discomfort.

"What did I do wrong?" Daniela turned to growl at her mother.

"He's your son."

Daniela's tail flicked angrily. "Well what did you do when it was my time, mother?"

The older woman examined her scales, and, without missing a beat, "Sent you out to the breeding grounds. Don't point the claw at me, missy. You and Lorenzo had a fairly nice time."

"Breeding grounds?" Luca shrieked. His back was fully pressed to the cave wall now, to his parents it only confirmed their assumptions on his fear but really Luca was doing it because it felt better than the boiling water around him.

Even the word sounded primitive. Luca had seen--not by choice--a few of the goatfish going through a particular season of...breeding, and if what he'd been forced to watch while sheperding was anything remotely close to how it was for sea folk, he didn't want in on it. Well, he knew how it was for sea folk, of course. Daniela had been hell-bent on initiating that conversation much earlier than Luca would have preferred.

"Can we talk about this later?" Luca begged, sliding back down onto his kelp bed with his claws raked through the fins on his head. "Please? I just want to go back to sleep."

"Go back to sleep?" Lorenzo chuckled. "Son, you've been sleeping this whole time--"

"Oh, nonsense," Daniela put her hand on Lorenzo's snout, quieting him. "He'll need all the rest he can get if he really is in heat. Besides, it'll keep him away from the neighbor's. I think they have a young girl around Luca's age, and that's the last thing we need."

"Uh, I'm right here?" Luca said angrily. His whole body felt like it was spinning on a wheel of emotions with no axis, just one blending into the other.

Lorenzo gave Luca a sympathetic smile before he was pulled away by grandma Paguro into the cave channel outside his room.

"Don't worry Lu," Daniela took hold of both Luca's hands, squeezing them. "This'll all be over in a few weeks."

"But," Luca looked to her algae dress swaying with the water, feeling his face warm up. "You're saying that...all of these things I'm feeling are just because of the heat?"

"Yes, baby." She tapped the back of his hand reassuringly. "I know it's confusing, but I promise after you get just a little bit more rest, we can explain it later. Okay, Bubble?"

Luca had a million things to say, and he wanted to say them now. He wanted to tell his mother that he thought he was going crazy because he'd had the best and most vivid dreams of his entire life. Well, maybe not say exactly that, but it was definitely up there. Or the fact that every time he moved, a starburst of pain cramped in his stomach, low and threatening, but all that came with it were thoughts dirtier than the time uncle Ugo decided to make whale for dinner. He wasn't supposed to think things that vile!

And, most of all, the beautiful land monster boy he'd met at the cove. With his tanned skin that reminded Luca of the tender underside of the brown conch shells he used to collect. And the sun kisses on his skin! Each one like a splash of color gifted from the fish in the sky! His eyes, bright expectant shards of sea glass Luca wished he could touch. Alberto, marvelous and witty, painting the rocks that lined the pool at the cove. Luca, marveled and wincing with feeling. Just thinking about him made his stomach ache. It made him ache all over. But it wasn't a sorrowful, sore pain.

It was an ache of need. Of want. Once his train of though passed through thinking innocently of Alberto's kind eyes and lopsided grin, it focused more heavily on the way Alberto bit his lip and the lean muscles that made up his body until he had to catch his breath because his mother couldn't catch him like this.

So all Luca did was nod at his Daniela's words, all worked up again, and wave weakly as she swam out of his room.

He fell back onto the bed, chest heaving.

This was impossible. And she had said it was going to last weeks?

"Oh, sharks. I'm so dead," Luca groaned, digging the flat part of his hand to his belly. He traced one of his gills with his eyes closed, savoring the feeling and the memories of the night before. Luckily for him, the entrance to his bedroom was facing out into the hallway, where there was only silence.

A considerable amount of silence.

Then an idea broke through his hazy thoughts of Alberto. Luca flipped himself over and swam to the mouth of the cave, glancing at either side of the hallway. No one was in the rooms beside him, and from the eerie quiet they all must have left the house so he could sleep.

Guilty bile rose in his throat, but Luca didn't care. There was no feasible way he was falling asleep. He checked the hallway one more time before taking an old blanket made of sea moss and throwing it on top of his bed, along with stuffing a few lumpy pieces of coral he'd stashed away underneath that until it formed a lumpy version of himself under the covers.

He didn't believe that what was burning in his chest for Alberto was just because of some stupid sea monster thing.

/ / /

"Alberto! How are you already here?" Luca popped his head out from under the still water to stare at his friend. "I didn't think you'd be wandering around."

When Luca had snuck back to the wide rock opening to the cove underwater, he could already smell Alberto from above. His salty scent, mixed with other delicious things too overpowering for his sensitive nose, but he could find it anywhere. There was a sweetness lingering in Alberto's scent, it was honey and flower petals.

Alberto smiled apologetically with his hands on the straps of his bag. "I wasn't wandering around. I came to see you." He undid the latch on his bag, the very one where all of the fun paint colors came out of if Luca was correct, and produced a towel. Luca's brows were pulled low as he watched from the edge as Alberto crouched down to him and dunked it into the water.

"What're you doing?" Luca pointed at the towel, once light and radiating weird land monster smells but was now dull and soaking in sea water.

Alberto's face went pink, a color Luca loved looking at, and shrugged. "I, uh, thought that this might help with the sun." He knelt down on his bare knees and draped the dripping towel across Luca's shoulders. "You can come out of the water now. Now it shouldn't hurt as much."

Alberto helped Luca up until they were both sitting, cross-legged, staring at each other. The towel was heavy with the weight of the water around him, but was nice against his scales. He pinched the corners of the towel and nestled deeper inside of it.

"Thank you," Luca whispered with dark cheeks. When he looked at Alberto now the words mate and heat and breeding grounds appeared in his head unannounced and his skin crawled with the indecision of everything spinning around him.

"You good, Luca?" Alberto leaned closer toward him, growing concerned. Luca wanted to smack him, with his face inches from his nose the stench, albeit a lovely one, rippling off his tan skin was too much. They were things Luca did not know the names for in the human world, but all the same he smelled intoxicating.

Luca took in a deep breath, his gills still clogged with sea water, and nodded uneasily. "Is it okay if I try something?" He rushed to ask in his preheat, head-pounding state.

"Uh, okay?" Alberto sat back normally. "Are you gonna take me to Atlantis or something? Hate to break it to you, Luca. I might be an expert at swimming but I don't think I can breathe underwater like you."

The arrogance rolled off Alberto in waves, and Luca fought to keep his head steady.

"No! That's not what I meant! It's not even called Atlantis, you know. And if I wanted to take you, the water pressure is too deep for your ears. You'd probably die or something."

"Then what did you mean?"

Luca scooted closer, claws still gripping the towel like a cape. "Sorry, it's just that...you're the only land monster I've seen. Ever. So, like, there's a lot of weird things about you that I need to know about."

Alberto snorted. He placed his arms behind his back and looked to Luca with a glint of a challenge in his eyes. "Like what?"

"Like your stubby claws, for one." Without hesitation Luca grabbed for one of Alberto's hands, crawling to sit beside him and examined his fingers and nails chewed down to tiny stubs. "They're so weird. You can't do anything with these."

Alberto only watched with a smug look to conceal his awe.

"I'm gonna skip the whole no-tail thing," Luca continued, scanning Alberto's body. He drank in his skin and the shiny stuff that looked like water beading along his temple and around his tank top. It seemed cool, and he wanted to touch it but he kept his hand back.

"Alright, have you had your fun already? I know I'm not as amazing as you are," Alberto asked while Luca crawled closer to pat his fluffed up curls. "Not everyone can be a sea monster."

"Okay, now this is weird," Luca commented on Alberto's messy hair. His hands moved slowly to his forehead, checking to see Alberto's flat expression when his claws grazed the sides of his face.

"...What?" Alberto asked, leaning closer. "So, you're touching my face?"

Luca blushed and let his hands rest on each side of his jaw, holding him in place. "You don't, uh, feel anything?" If he could only slip his fingers beneath Alberto's ears...that was the most delicate part. That was where he'd scent him.

His breath hitched, and all he'd done was touch his cheeks. Scent him? He couldn't, he wasn't a sea monster. But...something in him wanted to. It really, really did.

"Am I supposed to feel something else? All I feel are your slimy paws on my face."

Luca hissed playfully. "Slimy? It's a natural coating. I'd dry up out here if I didn't have it...And they aren't paws, Alberto. They're hands just like yours."

"My fingers aren't webbed." Alberto held up one hand to make his point.

"Whatever."

"Why are you asking anyway?"

"Because," Luca let his gaze drift over Alberto's face, shiny with sweat and dotted in freckles. "Because it's supposed to, uh--"

"Does it...feel differently for you?" Alberto stared with new knowledge at Luca's face. "Is that why?"

Luca couldn't breathe. He only nodded. Alberto registered the breath Luca was holding, his yellow eyes wide and pupils blown.

"Ah, okay," Alberto whispered. He sat up straighter and lifted one hand off the grass, placing it directly on Luca's cheeks, his thumbs just grazing the base of his audial fins. His thumb and index fingers gently took hold of them, feeling their slippery texture almost in the way Alberto might relish in the softness of velvet. His touch was soft, tentative and curious but most of all wholly him.

All of the sea water that was dripping down Luca's face had dried up, and in its place was the shock that Alberto was touching him, not just touching his hand or his shoulder, but his hands were--

He couldn't even finish his line of thought. When he was touching him, the pain that had pooled in his stomach lightened. But it didn't stop the tingling that spread all through his legs and up his spine.

Alberto hummed his interest, gauging Luca's pinched face for any sort of reaction, before letting his wonder get the best of him as he slipped his fingers behind his fins, just above his gills.

"Hmm," Eyes shining, dark pools leaving Luca helpless as to what Alberto was doing. "These gills are interesting. They don't feel like the normal ones you see on a fish or a shark. You know, my Papa taught me all about marine biology, but maybe it's a bit different in your case. Though this seems to be the same..."

To refer his point Alberto ran his index finger in a slow, agonizing circle there on his skin.

A pathetic little purr rose in Luca's throat, and he hurried to correct his mistake by slapping his hand over his mouth.

He spoke around his own hand covering his lips. "Mngh! I'm sorry! I just! You're--"

Alberto shushed him and peeled Luca's hand away. "S'okay. Sensitive, huh? I guess I didn't think of that."

Luca bit his lip and nodded, clamping his tongue between his teeth. "Very."

His gaze lightened a bit, flicking over to Luca's cheeks tinged a deep, flushed blue. He let his eyes roam down to his throat, where he could see his frantic pulse beating away, trying to keep himself under control. And, finally, to the dappled line of brighter, more opalescent scales that trailed down Luca's waist until they disappeared into the hem of his mossy shorts.

Luca knew those what those markings on his skin were, such a light blue it teetered on the edge of pink.

They were signs of a sea monster in heat.

Luca swallowed hard, his throat much too dry, while Alberto's green eyes soaked him up. Alberto's next words were chosen carefully, softly spoken, barely a puff of electric air around his warm scales. When did they get so close?

"Is it...a bad sensitive?" Alberto pressed, genuinely interested, and lifted the pressure of his hands off of Luca's gills. "Or a good one?"

Luca snapped his jaws tight, he could feel the blood drumming in his throat at that. Somehow he found himself drifting to Alberto for the curve of his chest, both arms on him created a little curve for Luca to hide in. His heady scent drove him further, enough to rest his temple on Alberto's collarbones, lungs burning to keep his breathing normal. Alberto stiffened around Luca's touch, but only for a moment. He sighed and his fingers resumed their teasing touches along his neck.

"A g-good one," Luca breathed out. That painful burn pooled in his stomach, making those pink scales itch and Luca couldn't help but put his hand there on his belly to suppress the cramping. But that wasn't all that was bothering him. He realized, as the pads of Alberto's fingers pressed on his gills, on his scent glands, a warm pleasure bubbled up like molten honey hidden in his shorts, and he knew he had to scoot away before it was too late.

What would he think of him then?

That he was just some gross, horny little fish seeking comfort from everything that didn't make sense and find the answers in the arms of a boy?

But Alberto wasn't just some boy, Luca chided himself. As much as he wanted to side with the rational portion of his brain the other, more primal parts of him knew that there was someone here, there was a boy here, in his space.

A strong, tall boy who had his arms wrapped around him and could probably smell the heat on him.

But that boy also was so tantalizingly close, the dull ache in Luca's stomach erupted when he buried his face into the crook of Alberto's neck. Alberto's scent changed in an instant. A deeper, muskier smell that had a spike of fear that dissipated in an instant. He growled, and nudged his nose up to the base of Alberto's jaw, tasting his richness in the air.

Luca's tail whipped out from behind him and latched onto Alberto's bare ankle, tugging lightly and flaring up his fins to display. He would make such a good mate, Luca thought deliriously, letting his mouth part. He would leave such lovely marks on his skin to show for it.

"Luca, are you alright?" Alberto tensed, and his grip on Luca loosened.

Luca wriggled uncomfortably with the heat that trembled and throbbed between his legs, opening his mouth poised on Alberto's neck, only thinking of the blood rushing through him and the need to be full. His teeth kissed the sweat on Alberto's neck, and Luca let out a whimper in surprise.

"So pretty...you smell so good, Alberto." Luca mused. The heat wasn't allowing him to think clearly anymore, his head was muddled with Alberto's scent and the overarching desire to claim him. He rose off his knees, while Alberto held his breath in confusion, and Luca pressed his full weight onto Alberto in one sloppy motion. His hips stuttered as they met Alberto's waist, relieved to have some friction, and Luca already knew the other boy could feel what had been dripping there. "P-Please, I need you."

Alberto gasped and shoved him off, harshly. Luca fell back into the hot grass, the towel around his shoulders stank of mildew and heat. He blinked back at Alberto, who was scrambling up on his feet, chest rising in uneven bursts of air. As he stood he blocked the sun and his entire front half was bathed in shadow. But the absence of the sun did not hide the blush that blistered along Alberto's nose, not a delicate rose in bloom but like an aggressive blaze that colored its path. So much that it reached the tips of his ears.

Neither spoke for minutes. Both breathing heavy, one in shock and the other in embarrassment, sweat dripping from their skin. Alberto felt the spot Luca had left on his neck, then shuddered when he saw the unhinged glint in Luca's yellow eyes.

"I'm sorry...I can't control it," Luca whispered. His breath caught on the wind, raw with shame and a tumult of conflicting emotions, and he wouldn't be surprised if Alberto didn't hear him.

Alberto took another step back when Luca crawled out of the towel and went to the edge of the pool. "What do you mean you can't control it? What the hell were you even going on about?"

Luca, eyes streaming, slipped into the water without a sound. The cool waves lapped at his hot scales and they soothed him, but only on the outside. There was something twisting around inside of him that wouldn't go away, even if he wanted it to.

He couldn't control the way he felt.

He glanced over his shoulder before murmuring. "I'm in heat."

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 35

AO3

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 34

Next Chapter: To be posted

Thomas woke up in his bed, Alastair beside him. He tried to push away the thought that if this hadn’t gone well, he could have found Alastair’s dead body here when he woke up. But Alastair was alive, he pushed himself up and out of the bed. Thomas didn’t know how fast he had to pull those blankets off of him. The fever was gone, his memory made sense again, and those blankets were far too warm for this weather. Alastair seemed a little disoriented still, rubbing his head painfully and blinking sleep out of his eye.

‘We’re back,’ Thomas said.

‘And alive,’ Alastair added. ‘Where are Lucie and Cordelia?’

‘They came to the realm of the thief in their bodies,’ Thomas said. ‘So I assume they entered a gateway back to the equivalent of that palace in this world.’

Alastair groaned. ‘That means they could be anywhere now. They might not even be in this country.’

Thomas nodded. He didn’t know what else to say. He guessed they could call Lucie and Cordelia. But he also knew he needed to speak with Alastair about what he’d done, and Thomas had no idea how. He tried not to let it show, but he was very upset about the choice Alastair had made.

It had worked out in the end, he had to give Alastair that. They’d won and they were all alive. If Alastair hadn’t done what he did, Thomas would not have survived. His soul might have been saved, but there was no way he could have come back to life.

Part of him was grateful. Part of him was terrified. Part of him was angry. He didn’t know how to make sense of those feelings. He was terrified of what else Alastair would do when it came to Thomas’ safety. He knew Alastair was not quite alright, he knew he did not believe he was worthy of love and affection, but he had not expected Alastair to give up his soul for him. Alastair couldn’t have known it would work out in the end. He had not counted on it, nor had he told anyone of his plans. He’d done this on his own.

Alastair had found his phone and was calling Cordelia, promising to come pick her up.

‘She and Lucie are still in Scotland, fortunately, but it’s a bit of a drive. They sent me their location, I can go pick them up there.’

Thomas frowned. ‘Are you sure you’re up for it?’ he asked.

‘Shouldn’t be a problem,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m tired, but not worse than usual. Had not expected that, but I have been asleep for longer than I have in a while.’

Alastair leaned in for a kiss, but Thomas did not reciprocate. A bit unsure, Alastair turned around and left. ‘I’ll see you when we get back.’

Thomas changed into some clean clothes, his pajamas weren’t that comfortable anymore. He guessed he could use a shower too, but that would come later. He vaguely remembered his sisters being here, and he wanted to let everyone know he was alright.

As expected, his father was pacing back and forth through the house, to everyone’s annoyance. His father needed something to do in stressful times, and lately he’d been unable to do anything.

‘You’re alive,’ his father said, pulling him into a hug. ‘You really are alive.’

‘We did it. Cordelia killed the thief, no one owes him souls anymore,’ Thomas said. ‘It’s over.’

Thomas sat down on the couch next to his mother. Unlike Alastair he was still exhausted from everything and did not feel as if he’s been sleeping at all. His mother instantly felt his forehead, Thomas suspected she did it without thinking by now.

‘You don’t seem feverish anymore,’ she said.

‘No, I’m not sick. Still a little tired, but the fever should be gone,’ Thomas said. ‘What time is it?’

‘Eight in the evening. You must be starving, Tom.’

Thomas guessed that was true. He had barely eaten anything the past days, and he had his appetite back.

‘I’ll make you something to eat,’ his mother said. ‘If you’re hungry before it’s done, you could heat up some leftover soup.’

Thomas started with the soup, eating while lost in thought. Why had Alastair done it? Could Thomas still be with him? He didn’t want them to break up, he would miss Alastair terribly, but he also wasn’t sure if he could make it work if they stayed together after this. He didn’t know what to do.

***

‘Where the hell are we?’ Cordelia asked.

She and Lucie appeared at the parking lot of an old castle somewhere. It didn’t look anything like what the thief had built, but it did appear they were still in Scotland. Cordelia hoped they weren’t too far away from the others. Alastair and Thomas weren’t with them, but Cordelia guessed that made sense. They’d gone back to their own bodies, which were still in Thomas’ bed.

‘About an hour’s drive away,’ Lucie said. ‘And I’m all out of snacks.’

‘Alastair’s calling,’ Cordelia said.

Alastair agreed to pick them up at the parking lot and Cordelia texted him her live location. Nothing to do but wait now, and she found a bench for the two of them to sit down on.

‘I still have some snacks,’ Cordelia offered. ‘I imagine you’re exhausted.’

‘I could probably sleep for a hundred years,’ Lucie said. ‘But I won’t. Waking up alone in a new century is not how I’d planned my life. Maybe I’ll sleep for a week though.’

‘We’re in our world now, not in between,’ Cordelia said. ‘Your mother slept in the land in between and time moved differently then. I think that’s why when she woke up, over a hundred years had passed.’

‘Still, I think I need a nap,’ Lucie said.

Cordelia allowed Lucie to lie down in her lap, closing her eyes. She sometimes envied Lucie’s ability to sleep everywhere. Cordelia was tired too, but didn’t know how to rest. Besides, someone had to stay awake until Alastair got here. An empty parking lot was not exactly a safe place for women at this hour. Of course, if some human tried to harm them, they wouldn’t know what they were up against.

She gently stroke Lucie’s head. She didn’t stir, she really was in a deep sleep. It was another one and a half hour until Alastair showed up. She was lucky she and Lucie hadn’t ended up in another country. That would have been problematic without a passport or money.

Cordelia felt changed, somehow. As if a piece of the darkness had traveled with her. The reaper had told her she could return to the land in between and the land of the thief whenever she wished, all of them could now. She didn’t know what else had changed. Had Alastair changed too? She wasn’t sure.

‘Thank god, you’re safe,’ Alastair said. ‘Come, let’s go back.’

‘Thank you for coming,’ Cordelia said, waking Lucie.

‘Any time,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m glad you ended up here, rather than in a different country, even if still doesn’t seem like a safe place to have waited so long.’

Cordelia nodded, she and Lucie got in the car and Alastair drove back, going a little above the speed limit, but there was no one else here.

‘How’s Thomas?’ she asked.

‘Alive,’ was all Alastair said.

‘Is he very upset with you?’

Alastair sighed. ‘I don’t know. He didn’t say much, and someone had to come pick you up. We didn’t have time to talk.’

‘Why did you do it?’ Cordelia asked.

‘You read my letter, didn’t you?’ Alastair asked, his voice betraying little emotion.

It was frustrating when he did that, Cordelia knew this could not be anywhere near the full extent of his feelings.

‘Yes. It was upsetting,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’m worried about you, dâdâsh.’

‘No need for that, Layla. You killed the thief of souls, we’re safe,’ Alastair said.

Cordelia began to get frustrated. Did he really not understand why everyone was so upset about what he’d done? She knew it had worked out in the end, that he’d saved Thomas, and she was glad for that, but that didn’t mean what he’d done was right, or healthy. If he’d discussed it as a method to buy them the time they needed, Cordelia might not have liked it, but it would have been a decent plan. But that wasn’t what Alastair had done. He’d chosen to sacrifice his soul for Thomas’, and although that sounded sweet, it wasn’t what any of them would have wanted. It wasn’t what Thomas would have wanted, and to Cordelia it only showed that Alastair still did not value himself.

‘What if it happens again?’ Cordelia asked. ‘We still haven’t found Tatiana, what if she finds some other creature to deal with and comes for us again? Will you sacrifice yourself for Thomas?’

‘I would have done the same for you, Layla,’ he said quietly. ‘You know that, right?’

‘That’s the problem!’ Cordelia yelled. ‘I would not want you to sacrifice yourself for me. I never wanted that, and neither did Thomas.’

‘I only did it because I love him,’ Alastair said. ‘Because I wanted to put his safety and happiness before my own. That’s what it means to love someone, doesn’t it?’

Cordelia didn’t know how to explain what she meant. What he said wasn’t completely wrong, when you loved someone you wanted them to be happy, even if it wasn’t with you. But this wasn’t the same, was it? There was the matter of consent, of course. No one who loved you would want you to make such a sacrifice. She imagined Charles would have, or her father. Perhaps not to the extent Alastair had done, but Alastair’s love for both of them had been closely tied to sacrifice and in the end it had turned bitter because Alastair had gotten hurt over and over again and her father nor Charles had cared about him. The kind of person who would want such a sacrifice from you wasn’t someone who deserved it.

‘Love does not mean sacrifice,’ Cordelia said. ‘And right now, we’re all scared you’re going to hurt yourself.’

‘I don’t want to die, Cordelia,’ Alastair said. ‘I am not suicidal. How many more times do I have to tell you that?’

Cordelia didn’t say anything else. She didn’t know what to say, how to reach Alastair. He didn’t understand, how could she make him? Perhaps Jem would know, or Gideon. Perhaps Alastair would listen to them if he didn’t listen to her.

‘Just so you know, Thomas feels the same way,’ Cordelia said. ‘As I said, he never asked for this, and that why he’s upset.’

‘I saved him,’ Alastair said. ‘If he doesn’t want me anymore after that, it still would have been worth it. Him being upset with me is better dan him being dead.’

***

Jesse was still around, away from his mother now that she’d lost her power. He no longer knew where Tatiana had gone, or if she was still a threat. Lucie knew his soul was free now, but he was still dead, even she could not fix that.

He’d been spending time with Barbara. The dead Barbara that was, as Thomas’ sister Barbara was here too. It was all very confusing, but Lucie had helped Barbara and Eugenia meet their grandmother, and their cousin Jesse. Both had died too young, but were ready to let go now. Uncle Gabriel hadn’t been able to get much time off from work, but had come to meet his mother. It had been a long drive for the little time he had here, but he’d taken it anyway. Gabriel did not remember his mother, but had taken the chance to meet her now, and left shortly after.

Lucie was sitting outside with Jesse. She knew she’d have to say goodbye, he did not want to stay here. Nor should he. It wasn’t much of an afterlife, to stay behind as a ghost, and Jesse should get to have a proper death. That didn’t make it easier though.

‘I cannot promise that you will be alright when you leave,’ Lucie said.

‘I know,’ Jesse said. ‘You do not need to promise me. I will be alright. I have faith in what comes next.’

Lucie had no clue what would happen. The reaper had been unable to tell her, it had to be kept secret. Lucie wasn’t sure why, but guessed it would make sense once it was her time. Hopefully, that would not be anytime soon, for any of them.

‘I wish there’s more I could have done for you.’

‘You saved me from the thief, Lu,’ Jesse said. ‘You gave me a chance at a proper afterlife. There’s nothing more I could have asked for.’

‘Do you remember anything from your time there?’ Lucie asked.

‘Bits and pieces. I think you’re supposed to forget there.’

‘I didn’t forget.’

‘You’re alive,’ Jesse said. ‘You entered that place with a living body, as did Cordelia. I think Thomas remembered because he had to, and Alastair never forgot because he cannot forget. But souls who go there are meant to forget. Barbara remembers only because Alastair made her.’

‘Perhaps Alastair could help you remember too,’ Lucie said.

‘It’s not so bad, to forget,’ Jesse said. ‘I remember who I am, my life. I don’t need memories of that place.’

Lucie had to admit he had a point. Forgetting wasn’t always bad. It made her wonder, was it difficult for Alastair too, that he could never forget?

‘I understand,’ she said. ‘When will you go?’

‘No time like the present, right?’ Jesse said. ‘Barbara will come with me, we’re going together. I’d say I won’t forget you, but I do not know what will happen to my memories on the other side.’

‘That’s alright,’ Lucie said. ‘Because I will remember you. And I hope it’s good, what you find there.’

‘Goodbye, Lucie. It was an honor to know you.’

Jesse walked to Barbara. He looked so normal as he did, almost as if he were alive. Then he took his grandmother’s hand, and they both disappeared. Lucie knew she would not see them again. She knew it was for the best.

***

In the next few days, Thomas continued to avoid Alastair. Whenever he entered a room, Thomas left, and Alastair didn’t know what to do. It was alright, he told himself. Thomas was safe and it would be alright if he didn’t want Alastair anymore. It was bound to happen anyway. But Alastair still found himself longing for Thomas. His silence was more painful than he could have imagined, and Alastair didn’t know how to fix this. How could he, if Thomas wouldn’t even speak to him?

‘Just so you know, if he dumps you, Kamala and I are keeping you,’ Eugenia said. ‘I’m sure dad feels the same way.’

He’d spent time with Thomas’ sister and her girlfriend the past few days. Lucie and Cordelia were mainly together, and Alastair understood. They were recovering from what happened, and wanted to be together now that they’d finally realized they loved each other.

Barbara had returned home. Alastair liked her, but didn’t get along as easily with her as with Eugenia. It wasn’t her fault, really, Alastair just didn’t know what to talk about with her. Eugenia and Kamala were both students at the same university Alastair went to, Kamala as a medical student and Eugenia was a year ahead in sociology. She could tell him exactly what to expect.

James was still around as well, he’d spent most of his time around Thomas and Lucie. Alastair hadn’t spoken to him apart from a short apology for what happened in school. He’d apologized to at the end of the school year before he’d transferred, but wasn’t sure James remembered at all. He’d put his school days behind him. He hoped James could do, but wasn’t sure if they could ever be friends. He found Lucie easier to get along with, which Lucie claimed was because they were probably both autistic. James seemed to have accepted his apology this time at least.

‘I’m not sure that would be right,’ Alastair said. ‘I don’t think Thomas wants me around anymore.’

‘If he’s dumping you, he’s an idiot,’ Eugenia said. ‘I hope you two can work it out, but if not, you’re still our friend.’

Alastair frowned. ‘We just met.’

‘Does that matter?’ Eugenia asked.

‘I don’t really have friends,’ Alastair added. ‘I don’t know how to be someone’s friend.’

‘Even more reason to accept me and Kamala as your friends. Doesn’t look like you have many options, and you’re not getting rid of us that easily.’

‘Genie is very determined,’ Kamala added. ‘I don’t think it’s wise to try to escape us. You live in London too, right?’

‘Yes,’ Alastair said, although he was not yet sure which part of London. Jem’s offer was tempting, but could he leave his mother now that she was having a baby?

Alastair had called her every day since making it back from the thief’s realm, discussing the baby, potential names, and what he’d do after the summer. His mother had encouraged him to choose for himself, not her, and she would be fine if he moved out. Alastair had not yet made a decision.

‘Great, then we’ll have plenty of opportunities to spend time together,’ Eugenia said. ‘Kamala currently lives in a cupboard under the stairs, but I live with my parents and have the space to host us.’

Alastair frowned. ‘A cupboard?’

‘It’s not a cupboard under the stairs. But it’s small,’ Kamala said. ‘My parents disowned me, had to take what I could get.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Alastair said.

Kamala shrugged. ‘It’s fine. Without them, I can finally figure out who I am, rather than who they want me to be.’

Although he didn’t know them well yet, Alastair did like Kamala and Eugenia so far. He guessed he had no clue how to be a friend, but he was figuring it out, and they provided a decent distraction from Thomas, who still refused to speak to him. Eugenia claimed Alastair should just go talk to him, but he didn’t dare. He was scared he would be abandoned again, although this wasn’t exactly a great situation either.

After dinner, Alastair was reading on the couch, a book Kamala had recommended to him. She and Eugenia both liked to read, which was nice because if he was unable to keep a conversation going they could always discuss books they liked.

‘How have you been?’

Gideon had come to sit down next to him. The past days he’d mostly been around Thomas, which Alastair could understand. It must have been very upsetting to almost watch him die. His arm had been broken, Alastair had learnt, but Kamala’s magic had sped up the healing process considerably.

‘Eugenia and Kamala have been kind to me,’ he said.

‘Yes, it’s nice you’re getting along so well with them. Genie likes you a lot. But you haven’t spoken to Thomas at all, have you?’

‘I haven’t,’ Alastair admitted. ‘He’s been avoiding me. I knew he’d realize I wasn’t worth it eventually, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon.’

Nor had he expected it to hurt so much, but he didn’t say that out loud.

‘Why do you believe you aren’t worth it?’ Gideon asked.

Alastair wasn’t sure what to answer. ‘He deserves someone whole, someone who’s not broken like me. I’m too broken, too difficult.’

‘You’re not too broken to be loved, Alastair,’ Gideon said. ‘Thomas is very upset about what you did. He knows he needs to talk to you, he’s been avoiding you because he doesn’t like difficult conversations.’

‘He doesn’t want me anymore,’ Alastair said. ‘But I don’t understand why he’s upset that I saved his life.’

‘You scared him,’ Gideon said. ‘You scared all of us. I knew you were hurting, but sacrificing your soul for someone… That’s not a good sign.’

‘I did what I had to do to save your son,’ Alastair said. ‘Aren’t you happy he’s alive?’

Alastair was confused about why everyone was so upset. He knew he’d made a difficult choice, and maybe he shouldn’t have done it without telling anyone, but it had worked out and without it Thomas would be dead. Didn’t they understand why he’d done it? He found it hard to believe someone else would not have done the same.

‘I am. And I am grateful for what you did for him. But you must understand that it’s not what he wanted. If you hadn’t killed the thief in time, if you’d died and he’d lived, he would have to live with that guilt. I do not think it is right to make these decisions for him in secret. It all worked out in the end, but I’m also concerned about you, and why you did it.’

‘I did it because I love him,’ Alastair said. ‘I guess he doesn’t love me like that, and that’s alright. I just wanted him to be happy.’

He tried to wipe away the tears in his eyes, but he couldn’t hide that he was crying.

‘I imagine that after everything that happened to you, you came to believe that love meant sacrifice. But I don’t think that’s a healthy way to approach relationships. Someone who loves you would not want you to sacrifice yourself for them. If it had been reversed, and Thomas had traded himself for you? Or Cordelia?’

Alastair pictured the scenario, him dying and Cordelia or Thomas making that deal. He wouldn’t want that, Gideon had a point.

‘I would have done everything in my power to stop them,’ Alastair said.

‘So you understand then, why Thomas is upset?’ Gideon asked gently.

‘It’s not the same,’ Alastair said stubbornly.

‘Why not?’

‘Because…’ Because he wasn’t worth that. Because Thomas could be happy without him, and Alastair was just broken. Because he was awful and bitter and did not deserve to be saved.

‘Because you believe you’re worth less than him,’ Gideon finished for him. ‘I know you do not love yourself very much. I think I understand why you did it, and I cannot blame you, but if you want to talk it out with Thomas you need to understand why he’s so upset.’

‘He doesn’t want me,’ Alastair said.

‘You won’t know that unless you talk. I don’t know what Thomas wants, but you should not leave anything unsaid between you two. You owe that to each other, and yourselves.’

Alastair guessed Gideon was right. He did understand why Thomas was upset, but Alastair could not bring himself to regret it. Not when he’d saved Thomas, not when it had all worked out.

Alastair found Thomas at the Herondale manor. He stood up from the couch as soon as he noticed Alastair, about to leave.

‘Do you want to take a walk?’ Alastair asked.

Thomas didn’t say anything.

‘I won’t go far,’ Alastair clarified. ‘I guess I just wanted to be outside.’

‘You can do that without me,’ Thomas said, avoiding his gaze.

‘I also thought we should talk,’ Alastair added.

‘Another time?’ Thomas asked.

‘If you need to, but I think you’ll postpone this indefinitely,’ Alastair said. ‘It’s been difficult for me, the way you avoided me.’

Thomas nodded. ‘You’re right. No time like the present, I guess.’

It was a warm evening, the sun was disappearing behind the trees, and a soft breeze caressed his cheeks. The kind of weather Lucie would use for a romantic scene, he guessed. Alastair hoped it worked out for him as well.

‘I missed you,’ Alastair said softly.

‘Me too. I missed you, I mean. Not myself. That wouldn’t even make sense.’

Thomas was rambling, and Alastair could tell he dreaded this conversation. Alastair did too. It was like a weight pressing on his stomach, Alastair felt he might throw up.

‘I understand why you’re upset.’

Thomas turned to face him, and took his hand. ‘Promise me you’ll never do something like that again.’

Alastair hesitated. ‘If I am to make such a promise, I would at least need you to be more specific.’

Thomas looked away and clenched his fist.‘You’re not taking me seriously.’

‘No, I am. But I don’t understand what you want me to promise. That I will never hurt myself? I do not think I can make such a promise. I wish I could, but I do not know what the future will hold. I might get worse. I do not want to make a promise unless I know I can keep it.’

Thomas hesitated. ‘No, I guess I cannot ask that. As much as I want you to feel better, it’s not something I can demand of you. But if we’re going to make this work, I do need you to promise me one thing. Promise me you will not go behind my back again. Perhaps, if you’d discussed what you were planning, I could have stopped you. Or perhaps we could have worked it into a plan we could all agree with to improve our odds of winning. I cannot deny that you saved me, that I would have died if you hadn’t done what you did. But I do not ever want you to keep your plans to save me hidden from me, nor do I want you to give up your life, or soul, for me.’

‘I guess I can promise that,’ Alastair said. ‘I should not have gone behind everyone’s back, you’re right. But I cannot regret what I’ve done.’

‘I understand and I can live with that,’ Thomas said. ‘Just don’t do it again.’

‘I’m hoping there won’t be a reason to,’ Alastair said. ‘But I promise I won’t keep you in the dark about my plans to save or protect you.’

‘I’m sorry I avoided you,’ Thomas said. ‘I knew we needed to have this conversation, and I didn’t know how. I thought I could just postpone it until I was ready, but it wasn’t going to get any better.’

‘You did a pretty good job,’ Alastair said. ‘Although it helped that your father talked to me.’

‘He’s worried too, isn’t he?’

‘It’s odd, to have people concerned about me,’ Alastair admitted.

‘You’re just not used to it,’ Thomas said. ‘But my parents are experts at being concerned about people, so you might need to adapt.’

‘It’s nice,’ Alastair said.

He used to hate the feeling, but lately not anymore. It felt so good to be allowed to let go, to break down and know there would be someone to help him pick up the pieces. He’d always wanted to be strong, but he’d been so tired of it lately.

‘It can be too much,’ Thomas said. ‘But that’s better than people not caring at all.’

‘Can I kiss you?’ Alastair asked shily.

‘Please.’

Alastair grabbed hold of Thomas’ shoulders, standing on his tip toes to be able to reach his lips. Having a tall boyfriend had its downsides too, but Thomas leaned down a little and Alastair could kiss him.

Their lips met, and Alastair realized he’d been starved for this, even if it had only been a few days since they’d kissed. Thomas took control off the kiss, a bit more experienced by now, and Alastair loved it. He wanted to let Thomas drown him in affection. Thomas put his arms around him, pressing him closer. Their bodies fit together nicely, Alastair could feel his muscles, his chest, strong arms enveloping him and keeping him safe.

‘I forgive you,’ Thomas said. ‘I don’t like what you did, but it’s alright. I know you don’t believe you’re worth it, but you are and I hope one day you’ll see that too. Let’s give this another try.’

[jenn-i-guess]

Doing Stupid Things Make You Stupid Sick//Kiribaku

I bet Kirishima would be so focused on exercising and training that he would barely notice his own health.

So of course one day, he wakes up sick and groggy.

He woke up to loud thundering coming from his door, and loud yelling coming from the other side.

"Shitty hair! You're gonna be fuckin late!"

Ah.

Kirishima sat up in his bed and almost completely toppled over. His head was spinning around in circles, and he felt liquid dripping from his nose.

He wiped his face with a clammy hand, too disoriented to use his voice.

"Bluh?"

He jumped up in his bed as his dorm door slammed open, an angry Katsuki on the other side.

"Oi, shithead! You must be a shit boyfriend, ignoring me!" Bakugou yelled.

Oh yeah, his boyfriend.

Wait why was he here again?

Kirishima sniffed as he tried to squint his eyes to see his boyfriend better but only saw and angry blonde blur.

"Hello?! Are you gonna sit there forever or are you going-"

Katsuki cut himself off as he walked closer, now noticing Kirishima's pale skin and snotty nose.

"Are you sick?" Those words were spoken much softer than before, and Kirishima was glad that he wasn't yelling anymore.

"Wassit look like?" Eijirou wheezed, falling back against his pillows.

"You look like absolute shit." Bakugou responded, snorting when Eijirou barely looked his way at him.

Katsuki made sure to shut the door behind him before making his way towards his boyfriend's bed.

He sighed before pressing a palm to his damp forehead, trying to remember what exactly his own mom would do when he was sick.

"How'd you even get sick anyways, you were fine yesterday?"

Kirishima groaned in response, but he leaned into his boyfriend's touch, fascinated that his usually warm hands actually felt cold for once.

"I dunno, I was training last night, then I ate, and then I went to sleep!"

Katsuki raised one blonde eyebrow at him, remembering not seeing the redhead at dinner yesterday.

"Really? I didn't see you there."

Kiri froze before slyly turning his head away, becoming entranced with his lap as he stared down. "Well, I didn't say I ate at dinner time."

Bakugou gaped at him, struggling to take in the words he spoke.

Oh.

The blonde sighed while taking his hand away, but not before slapping his boyfriend upside his head.

"Ow! What the hell man?" Eijirou whined, rubbing his flattened down hair.

"How fucking long did you train for, dipshit?" Bakugou demanded, staring down menacingly at him.

Kiri groaned as he sat up, digging his palms into his tired eyes. "I dunno! It wasn't that late...I think?"

Bakugou groaned as well, "You think?"

"'S probably why you're sick, dumbass. Now I gotta take care of your stupid ass."

Kiri chuckled, "You said ass twice in that sentence. Must like it that much, eh?"

That earned him another slap upside his boggled head.

"Stop that shit." Katsuki mumbled, before pushing his hand through his boyfriend's messed up hair.

"Bluhhhhh! You're so mean Kat-su-ki~"

Bakugou sat up, leaving Kirishima to flop back down on his bed, whining as he left the room.

He made his way to the kitchen where he immediately raided the cupboards, looking for a familiar can anywhere.

"Kacchan?"

Bakugou stopped and slowly turned around, glaring at Deku who was standing by the countertops, looking at him confusingly.

"What?" He did not want to deal with this nerd, especially not at this hour.

"Um, aren't you going to class?" Deku responded, pointing to the elevator which was beginning to crowd with their classmates, everyone dressed in their uniforms.

Bakugou sighed, turning back to the open cupboard and grabbing a single can of chicken noodle soup.

"No. Shitty hairs sick, tell Aizawa I'm watching him." He explained, already beginning to get a headache when he turned around and Deku was still standing there.

"Oh! You're taking care of him?"

Bakugou gritted his teeth once again, "No, I'm making sure he doesn't do any stupid shit while you're all gone!" He snapped at him.

Deku laughed nervously before backing away towards the elevator, "O-okay, I'll tell Aizawa then!"

Katsuki watched as Deku barely made it in the closing elevator doors before finally having the kitchen in silence.

He moved around, grabbing a pot and smacking it onto the oven, turning the heat on.

Bakugou wasn't taking care of Kirishima, he said to himself as he poured the can of soup he definitely wasn't eating for himself into the pot.

But fuck it if he was leaving him alone. It was Eijirou, who knows what the dumbass would do while he was away.

Probably something stupid to do while he was sick, like exercising.

He let the soup heat up over the stove before walking back towards the hallway leading to their dorms.

Katsuki stopped suddenly when he heard a retching sound, not coming from his or Eijirou's room, but from the bathroom down the hall further.

"Ei?" Bakugou called out, swiftly walking into the boy's bathroom and immediately scrunching up his nose at the smell of something wafting from inside.

He carefully walked in as the sounds got louder, making his own stomach sick and queasy.

It was only until he got to one of the opened stalls when he noticed his boyfriend, hunched over the toilet and vomiting the contents of his stomach.

"Shit, Ei? Are you alright?" Bakugou asked as he walked closer, pressing his hand onto his back and rubbing up and down soothingly.

Kirishima didn't say anything as his body shook with each heave, only whining as he lifted his head up.

Katsuki winced as he saw the redheads face, covered in drool, tears and vomit.

He leaned over and ripped off a couple pieces of toilet paper before softly dabbing his face, carefully getting rid of the fluids on it.

"Kats..." Eijirou whined, sniffling his nose as he rubbed his throat which was probably sore.

"I know I know. Just hold on." Bakugou muttered, throwing the toilet paper into the toilet before flushing it, getting on his knees so that he could hoist his boyfriend up.

Kirishima didn't complain, which was a bit worrying since he liked to be annoying when he was being helped.

He was very light too, and very sweaty. Bakugou groaned as they shuffled out of the bathroom, opening Ei's door with one foot as he carefully walked in.

He didn't even hear his boyfriend walk into the bathroom, and he didn't even want to imagine how much pain he was in.

Kirishima wheezed as he was gently set down on the bed, swaying a bit before he fell back down onto his pillows, letting out huffs of air.

"I made you soup." Bakugou said, pulling up the covers and tucking them into Kiri's body.

"Mm. Great." He croaked out, wiping his eyes once more before grabbing Bakugou's hand and pressing his cheek against it.

"You're so warm." He sighed, smushing his cheek as he pressed his hand further into his face.

"And you're hot as hell," Katsuki mumbled before pulling his hand away, "Lemme go get the damn soup."

Eijirou whined again but let the hand be pulled away from his face.

As he left the room, Bakugou made sure to keep the door open, just in case.

The soup was steaming on the stove but thankfully was not burned, and Bakugou was glad for it as he pulled out a bowl and poured the contents in.

He turned the stove off, put the pot into the sink and grabbed a spoon and a napkin before walking back in Eijirou's room.

Kirishima was slumped over his bed when he walked in, but perked up at the smell of hot soup.

"Soup?" He turned his head towards Bakugou, smiling as best as he could when the blonde placed it into his lap before climbing into his bed.

"Yea, here." Katsuki mumbled as he gave him the spoon and napkin, making sure he had a good grip on the bowl so that his hard work wouldn't spill.

And as he turned to look away, he felt a hot wetness on his cheek and he looked back to see that Kirishima had given him a sloppy kiss, before shoveling hot soup.

"Danks!" Kiri said around a mouthful, slurping the liquid down cheerfully.

Katsuki smirked as he saw color beginning to come back into Kiri's skin, and his eyes already seemed to be getting less dull.

Sinking down into the bed, he dozed off to the sounds of his boyfriend sipping the soup, glad that he was beginning to feel better.

[sammystep]

No One Lives Forever- CH12

(AO3 link)

Stardust Crusader Wolf Pack AU

[From the beginning- CH1]

<Previous Chapter    Next Chapter>

The drive into city limits was thankfully uneventful. There was enough gas left from the last stop to make it all the way to the new apartment so Joseph declared that there would be no more stops. You and the younger guys had no issue with this plan, all of you so beyond tired that you would have agreed to any plan that involved you getting back to sleep.

It’s mid-morning when you wake up next, neck stiff from the awkward angle you slept in. You ended up in the very back row next to Kakyoin this time, and you both have to wait for Jotaro and Polnareff to fold down the seat to let you out. It’s disorienting to wake up in a completely new place. You’re greeted with a pretty nondescript parking garage, warm city air breezing through the open structure and kicking up dust and other questionable smells. You quickly cover your nose with your sleeve, reminded why you prefer smaller towns.

“Cheer up everyone! Not much further now.” Joseph seems to have really benefited from the full nights sleep, practically skipping past you all carrying his own bags as you trudge to the back of the truck to help unload. Between the six of you there is no need for a second trip, so the pack follows Joseph to the elevator, but instead of heading to the ground floor to begin your journey to the new apartment he selects the ‘lobby’ floor. If he was bouncing before, Joseph is vibrating with excitement now. “Everyone stay right here for a moment while I get the key. I want this to be a surprise.” Jotaro sighs but ends up putting his bag down in the open elevator door to wait for Joseph to get back. The view out the door is obstructed by a wall with some kind of post-modern art on it, the parking garage you just came from must be private parking for residents of the building. Your shoulders slump in relief; tension you didn’t know you were carrying melting at the realization you wouldn’t be hauling your bags across town on foot.

Joseph is back quickly, a brass key held out in front of him like some sort of holy relic as he walks. “Caesar’s been sending me pictures of the place; get ready to be blown away!” he turns the key in the elevator panel and selects a residential floor.

“Uncle Caesar’s already been here then?” Jotaro inquires.

“Well, he was. His email just said that it got set up and he’ll be done with company business soon. Then his pack is going to join us.” Joseph scratches at his beard as you all watch the numbers light up on the indicator panel. “I’ll call him today and we’ll get the final plan set in stone. It sounded like they only had a few things to set up before they can leave the company on ‘autopilot’ for a while.” His grin is as bright as ever as the elevator finally stops on the 26th floor and he rushes into the hallway as soon as the doors open wide enough.

The rest of you follow at a more sedated pace but you can’t help the excited feeling in your gut as you progress. The front door is flung wide open as Joseph hurls himself through the opening. You are almost blinded by the amount of natural light that greets you as you enter.

The two-level floor to ceiling windows grant a spectacular view of the city skyline, few other buildings tall enough to obstruct your view. The white walls and furniture bounce the light around the open living room and reflect off the glass and silver modern tables, everything placed and organized perfectly.

To your left is a dining area with a modern table and chairs, dark woods and pale cream-colored decorations tying in the colors of the living room. A large chandelier blocks some of your view to the kitchen, but from what you can see it is the most high-end residential kitchen you’ve ever seen outside of magazines and movies. Hell, it would put some of those to shame too. A pastel, almost minty aqua tile behind the stove is the only color added to the otherwise monochrome browns and creams so far, silver appliances shine in the reflected light.

Polnareff whistles loudly as he gives the place a good look as well, pretty much summarizing your thoughts. Jotaro, Kakyoin and Avdol are more modest in their reactions but you can tell by the way they straighten up and look around that they are eager to explore the new place too. Joseph is standing in front of the huge main window with his hands on his hips looking out on the mid-morning skyline. He turns with a flourish and throws his hands in the air, “We finally did it! I thought the previous owners were going to holdout forever, but we out lasted them! And now it’s ours!”

“Wait, you own this? Its not just a cool monthly rental?” you haven’t moved very far from the doorway, afraid to get anything dirty.

Jotaro ducks his head so his hat obscures most of this face, “Well, that’s not exactly what he means.”

“That’s right, JoeStar Realty has become a pretty big conglomerate since Caesar and I started it. We didn’t just buy out this apartment, we now own the whole building!” Joseph throws his head back and laughs triumphantly. You’re gob smacked as the reality of his statement sinks in. just what kind of pack did you stumble into? “Come on- showers and bedrooms are upstairs. We’ll all get situated and just relax today.” Joseph leads the charge up the stairs to your right and you all follow him up, bags in tow.

“There are five bedrooms, but with the Zeppeli pack staying here we’re going to have to share. I’ll give him a call and see what’s going on.” The rest of the guys nod and split up to explore the upper level. You follow suit and are amazed by the opulent bedroom you find yourself in. Looking in each doorway you see there are two smaller rooms decorated in creams and whites, still big enough to comfortably fit queen size beds. The larger three rooms done in blue, green, and grey are all furnished with king sized beds.

“(Y/N)! We’ve got two showers in this place- one of them is yours if you want to go first.” Joseph shouts from down the hall and you can see him poking his head out of one of the doorways.

“Yeah, sounds good to me- if everyone is cool with it?” You make your way over to the free bathroom, no one disagreeing with letting you be one of the first to shower. “I promise I’ll be quick!” You shout to the hallway before closing the door. the bathroom is just as fancy as the rest of the apartment, a large walk-in shower taking up most of the space. There are so many buttons and knobs, you’re tempted to try all of the settings but you just promised to be quick. Maybe you’d have the time to fully test it out later.

Luckily the apartment was also stocked with other essentials like towels and soap, and after a disappointingly fast shower – you only had time to try out a few of the fancy settings- you quickly change into a new outfit and grab a comb from your bag before dropping it off in one of the bedrooms. You make your way back downstairs to the living room and Polnareff jumps from his seat at the dining table when he sees you. He’s already bounded up the stairs before you can announce the shower is open now.

“Ah, (Y/N). I’ve got good news! I gave Caesar a quick call- he and his pack won’t be here till tomorrow afternoon. Polnareff volunteered to sleep out here in the living room, so we all get our own rooms for the night.” Joseph says as he and Avdol make use of the kitchen. Soap and towels must not be the only things supplied by the mysterious Zeppeli pack. A pretty impressive array of sandwich meats and condiments are spread out on the counter, and Joseph is putting the finishing touches on his own monstrous sandwich creation.

Jotaro is already showered and changed and sitting at the dining table working his way through his own mountain of sandwiches; you put you phone and comb down on the table next to him to save your spot while you make your own food. Cringing to yourself, you hope no one else notices you basically marked out territory right next to the alpha of the pack. Quickly throwing together some sandwiches you join the guys at the table.

The relaxed atmosphere is broken by the chorus of ‘Mama Mia’ suddenly staring to play. Joseph nearly chokes on the bite he just took and coughs it down as he reaches for his cell phone. He finally gets himself under control and answers the call, “Suzi! Sweetheart!”

“Jojo dear! I just got off the phone with Caesar, when were you going to tell me you were back in the city? And what’s all this nonsense about monsters?”

“He, uh, told you about that, did he? Well, its nothing to worry yourself over. I was going to give you a call once we all got settled here.” Joseph’s free hand can’t seem to stary still, alternating between scratching his beard and ruffling his hair. “But it’s all good now! Everyone is fine, perfectly fine! No reason to worry!”

“You are a terrible liar Jojo. Is everyone really ok?”

Joseph relaxes a bit and a small smile creeps onto his face. He makes his way out to the balcony to take the call in private. Shutting the glass door, he takes a look at everyone gathered at the table before turning to face the city skyline.

“Jojo?”

“I’m here, just stepped out for some privacy.” He takes a deep breath to prepare before continuing. “We’re all ok for the most part. Some cuts and bruises but we’re all in one piece.”

The silence that follows is almost more frightening than Suzi screaming at him. Finally, she breaks it, “Where are you, I’ll be right there.”

“No! No, you stay put. Besides, Caesar and his pack are going to be here tomorrow, there’s no need to worry.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about this Joseph. If there are dangerous people around, we should be together- the whole pack. There is safety in numbers after all.”

“Suzi, darling. Love of my life and sun in my sky,” Joseph does his best to butter up his mate, “I’m begging you to stay where you are; where you’re safe. We are attracting all kinds of enemies right now, if you got caught up in my fight again…” Joseph trails off, hoping the desperation in his voice talks some sense into her.

It seems to have done the trick as Suzi sighs loudly into the receiver, “Ok, have it your way Jojo. But are you going to keep everyone away? Remember Holly and Sado are supposed to be back in time for his big audition.”

“Damn. I forgot they were coming back so soon.” Joseph slaps a palm to his forehead and rubs it over his face.

“Oh! Wait! This gives me an idea!” Suzi practically sings into the phone, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen Fiona and her kids, I’m sure Caesar wasn’t planning on bringing his whole pack along with him. She and Holly and anyone else not needed to fight, we can all stay together! We’ll have the best of both, all of us out of harms way and safety of numbers!”

“Suzi, you are absolutely brilliant. I’ll get Jotaro and Caesar up to speed on this plan. I’m sure they’ll agree. We can look for a cabin outside of town, that way you’ll be able to transform if you do run into trouble.”

“Oh, silly me! I keep forgetting we need to let Jotaro make the decisions. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to my baby grandson being in charge.”

“I know. I’m still getting used to it myself, but he’s doing so well. Even with everything going on. Listen to this, it all started when we were at the new cabin to check out the area…”

***

From inside you watch as Joseph starts pacing and throwing his hands in the air as he talks on the phone. Jotaro had explained that was his grandma Suzi’s ringtone, Joseph was probably telling his mate everything that happened over the past several days. You pause as you are about to take another bite. Had it really only been a few days? Just a week ago you were a lone wolf, going from town to town as you pleased, and now…

You smile and greet Kakyoin and Polnareff as they take a seat at the table as well. Between bites of his food, Polnareff regals you all with a story about a job he had some years back that took place in a building down the street from this one. You do your best to look like you are listening, but you can’t help your thoughts drifting off to this strange situation you’ve become tangled in. You felt so at ease with everyone here, so unlike the packs you’ve tried to join in the past. They were such a close-knit bunch, especially considering it was rare for packs to be made up of so many non-family members. Hopefully the threads now tying you to this pack held strong after the hunter issue was solved. Just the thought of being outed from the group is enough to make you anxious, but you quickly quell the feeling with the resolve that you will do everything you can to prove you deserve to stay. To prove you belong.

The rest of lunch passes uneventfully, one by one you migrate to the living room and you end up sitting between Jotaro and Kakyoin again on one of the couches. Joseph and Avdol are across from you, Polnareff remaining at the table as he pulls out a laptop from his luggage. Now that you’re settled, clean, and full it’s hard not to drift between sleep and wakefulness. You don’t want to completely upset your sleep schedule so you settle on paying attention to the classic movie Joseph found on TV.

Jotaro and Kakyoin have no reservations about this it seems as they both quickly settle in for a nap as their attention on the TV wanes. Polnareff gives a loud yawn as he snaps his laptop shut and stands up to stretch. “Polnareff, would you mind if I borrowed your laptop if you’re finished with it?” Avdol stops him from putting it back in the carry case.

“Sure, what do you need it for?” Polnareff hands over the silver laptop, standing behind the couch and leaning over to see the screen.

“Something has been bothering me, about the encounters we’ve had recently. We seem to have run into more than our fair share, one of them even mentioning Dio by name.” You can see Polnareff’s hair stand on end and a full body shiver run through him at the mention of Dio. “I need to know; was it just bad luck that we ran into them? Or is there a magical component to this that we are not seeing? I need to do some research, but I wouldn’t put it past whoever is behind all this to use supernatural means to track and keep sight on us.”

You sit up straight in your seat as a chill rushes down your spine. You had been attributing the encounters to just bad luck, but the thought that they were intentional… Joseph seems to feel the same way, he stands from his seat with a growl and starts pacing.

“How can we tell for sure if we’re being watched?” Jotaro’s voice startles you. Apparently, he hadn’t been fully asleep. Kakyoin leans forward in his seat as well, the whole pack focused intently on Avdol.

“There are a few ways I can deduce if there is some kind of tracking spell being cast. But I need some time to refresh my knowledge on the subject. More importantly, if we find that there is a spell involved, we may be able to counter it.” Avdol hadn’t looked away from the screen while he addressed the pack, already deep into his research process.

“You’ll be able to block it once you know what it is?” You question him, curious to how the other werewolf could have such an in-depth knowledge of spells that he would only need to ‘refresh’ his knowledge.

“Not just block it. Most people don’t realize this, and in fact most spell casters depend on it, but when you use magic to view something it is like opening a window to look through. But when this window opens, if you have the right tools, you can view the caster back through the same portal.” You nod slowly at his explanation, still mystified at how he could possibly know this.

“Well, that’s some good news at least. Is there anything we can do to help?” Kakyoin asks as he sits up straight in his seat again.

“No, for now it’s just research to be done.” Avdol looks away from the screen to the pack. “Once I figure out what counter spells to use, I’ll need to collect some specialized tools from my shop.”

“Your shop? What’s that?” Today is raising more and more questions about the pack you’ve found yourself affiliating with.

“Forgive me, I forget you haven’t been with us that long to know. My family owns a curiosities shop, mostly catering to other sorcerers and people interested in the occult. You see, I’m half wolf on my father’s side. My mother is a sorceress, though she claims her only real talent is fortune telling.” Well, that would be one minor mystery solved about why Avdol knows so much about these things, but opens up even more intrigue to his past.

Jotaro nods and relaxes back into his seat, “Avdol, you make a list of what you’ll need from the shop. If its possible you should head over tomorrow with gramps, let your parents know it may be best to get out of town for a while.” Avdol nods at the order from his alpha and goes back to his research. The rest of you slowly relax back to your previous positions, Polnareff joining you all in the living room.

Its hard to tell how much time passes after that but it must be hours later when Joseph stands up and stretches, his joints cracking in protest. He winces a bit as he straightens out his spine, “I’m going to get started on dinner. Steak and potatoes sound good to everyone?” You could feel your mouth water at the thought and nod enthusiastically. Everyone else agrees as well and Joseph grins as he makes his way to the kitchen.

You join him, no time like the present to prove yourself useful. “What can I do to help?”

Joseph blinks twice before grinning at you, “Well if you really want to help, you can peel and chop these potatoes while I get the water and pans heated up. Sound good?” he hefts the bag of potatoes to the counter and you nod again, taking the bag from him and start looking for a knife.

You don’t catch the thoughtful look Joseph gives you and the glance to the living room as you get to work on your task. The open plan of the apartment was great for aesthetics but not for privacy. If he tried to grill you about your feelings and intentions toward his grandson, Jotaro was bound to overhear. Oh well, there were bound to be more opportunities in the future. Better to ignore it for now, Jotaro was under enough pressure as it was without discussing him like he wasn’t there.

Joseph gets to work on his own tasks and is impressed by how much you’ve gotten done when he checks your progress. “Wow, you really got to work on those. Where’d you get those knife skills, you a professional chef and just didn’t tell us?” Joseph laughs at his own joke.

“Ha, no. No, I’ve just worked a lot of odd jobs over the years. A lot of them happened to be in kitchens so I picked up a few things.” You chuckle with him as you continue working, adding a slight flourish to your movements to impress.

“Yeah, I guess that would do it, huh?” Joseph scratches his beard as he looks at you again, “If you don’t mind me asking, you said you’ve been on your own for a while… Why exactly? Have a falling out with your pack or something?”

“Nothing like that. I just…” You pause your movements as you try and think of the right words to explain, “It felt like it was time, you know? Adventure, fining myself, fining a pack of my own… That wasn’t going to happen if I just stayed home. So I packed up, hit the road and just kept going.” You smile as you turn to look at him. “I’ve actually had pretty poor luck with that last goal- finding a pack. Every time I ran into a new one that was looking for a member, it just never felt right, you know?”

“Well, that’s sad to hear, but at the same time I’m glad you’re with us now. How do you feel about that by the way? I know you’re kind of stuck right now…” Joseph trails off and you give him a bright smile.

“I know I barged into your lives, but you guys have done so much for me already. And, for the first time, I really feel like…” Joseph catches your glance at the living room and faint flush of your cheeks, “like I really have a place in the pack. Like I can belong.” Your eyes light with a sudden fire and intensity that catches Joseph off guard. “And I’m going to do everything I can to prove it. That I belong here.”

The last thing you were expecting was Joseph to gently pat you on the head and ruffle your hair a bit, “I wouldn’t worry about that (Y/N). You’ve already done it.” He gives you a sincere smile before turning back to the stove to get to work on dinner. You smile and do the same, quickly finishing and cleaning up your station.

Dinner is soon served and you are all entertained with stories from Joseph’s youth growing up in New York. You catch Jotaro next to you rolling his eyes at different parts of the tale. He sees your raised eyebrow and leans in, “Last time he told this story it was five vampires, now he’s up to eight.” You take a sip of water to hide your smile behind your glass.

After dinner is done and everything put away you find yourself back in the living room. You are about to get comfortable in an armchair when a yawn catches you off guard. Glancing at the clock you decide its not an unreasonable time to go to bed. “I think I’m going to call it a night guys. Do we need to work out bedroom assignments for the night or should I just pick one?” You stretch a bit as you move to stand next to the staircase.

“Nope, they’re all fair game tonight. Tomorrow we’ll have to figure out who is rooming with who when the Zeppeli pack gets here.” Joseph replies and you nod, giving one last goodnight to everyone before heading upstairs. You decide to just go with the one you dropped your stuff in, one of the rooms with a queen bed all to yourself tonight. Making sure you weren’t trapping anyone else’s things in the room you quickly change before falling into the bed face first. The covers are barely settled over you before you drift off to sleep.

***

You hadn’t set any kind of alarm, so you are a bit disoriented with the feeling of having overslept the next morning. Or was it early afternoon already? You crack an eye open to read the time on your phone; 10:15. Not early by any means but not unreasonable after the last few days you’ve had. And nowhere near your record for sleeping in, but the rest of the pack didn’t need to know that just yet.

You go through your morning routine at an unhurried pace before descending the stairs. Polnareff is seated at the table on his laptop again, Jotaro and Kakyoin eating breakfast across from him. You greet them and make yourself some toast before sitting next to Polnareff. Taking a glance at the screen you recognize the blue logo of Facebook but the profile Polnareff is looking at makes you pause.  

“Isn’t that one of the hunters?” you motion with your free hand to the screen as you take a bite of your breakfast.

“Oui. I’m doing a bit of research on them before I go check out the addresses.” Polnareff responds but his eyes never leave the screen.

You hum and nod before returning to your toast. Glancing around you realize Joseph and Avdol must still be upstairs, but you hadn’t thought them to be late risers. Kakyoin sees your survey of the room, “Mr. Joestar and Avdol have already left for his family’s shop. He said he was going to gather the necessary equipment to cast some protection spells.”

“They should be back in an hour or two, they didn’t leave that long ago.” Jotaro adds, his attention mostly on his breakfast but he makes eye contact with you as he speaks.

You nod again and watch Polnareff click through profiles and make some notes for a bit while you chew on your toast. “Is that really what you do as a PI? Facebook stalk people?”

Polnareff laughs, “Well this is just the first step. But you’d be astounded by what people volunteer sometimes. This guy,” he taps the ID card on the table, “has been surprisingly careful in what he posts. Which is a shame since he’s our best lead on whatever is going on. But since I have his address, I can put together a few things from what he does post.”

This catches Jotaro and Kakyoin’s attention and they both sit up straight in their chairs. “Since the place he claims to work for doesn’t have a website, and we know what his real job was, I was able to figure out where their equipment came from by cross checking their check-in tags from different restaurants around. It has to be one of the warehouses around the bay here.” Polnareff explains as he points to the map pulled up on his screen.

“Well, no time to lose then, lets go investigate.” Kakyoin says as he stands and collects his plate from the table to wash.

“Actually, I’d prefer to go by myself. It’s less suspicious if one person is hanging around and my methods, well… Let’s just say they aren’t 100% legal all the time.” Polnareff rubs the back of his neck and looks away for a moment before they both look to Jotaro for his decision on the matter.

Thinking for a moment, Jotaro seems to come to a decision as he closes his eyes and sighs. He opens his eyes again and focuses on Polnareff, “I’ll trust you to take care of yourself. I think you’re right though, a group of people snooping around is going to be more noticeable than just one.” You can tell by the look on Kakyoin’s face that he doesn’t agree, but he stays quiet. “The first sign of trouble you call us though, understood?”

“Of course! Although I don’t know how much trouble there could be, its not like he’s going to show up while I’m there.” Polnareff laughs and you smack your palm to your forehead, you would think he’d know better than to jinx himself like that.

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Author’s Note:

No fighting this chapter- everyone needs a break now and then. Also, I’ve decided I’m going to have to give up on once a week uploads- I feel like I’m really finding my voice writing this but it also means the chapters are getting longer and longer and I don't have the time I thought I would to get one chapter a week done. From now on posts will be sporadic but know that I am working on it a little each day!

[auroracalisto]

remorseful soul

summary: on a mission for s.h.i.e.l.d., the reader is sent to a hydra base where she meets the winter soldier.  after waking up back in a s.h.i.e.l.d. hospital room, she realizes that she has lost time and needs to figure out what happened to her.  bucky is one of the only people able to explain to her what happened.  

pairing: slight bucky x reader

word count: 1.4k words

warnings: winter soldier, being choked into unconsciousness, mentions of coma, possible mentions of death, being tested on, panic attacks.  angst with an okay ending???  this is more of a one shot that preludes a future relationship between bucky and the reader.  this one shot does NOT include any type of fluff/relationship thing until possibly the end.  

author’s notes: what is this?  idk.  i saw a bucky gif on my feed and i wrote this.

He terrified you.  The first time you met him was during a mission you had to infiltrate Hydra’s base.  He had been on his own mission to kill those who had managed to get past the other Hydra’s agents.  

You ran as quickly and quietly as you could, your gun in your dominant hand as you used your other to feel the wall.  The lights had been cut out by another agent in hopes that it would disorient Hydra.  A red emergency light was all that was shown, flashing on and off every other second, proving to make it difficult for even S.H.I.E.L.D’s agents.  You found the door handle that you had been looking for and you quickly opened it, only to be stopped by a strong grip taking your arm.  Your back was slammed up against the wall, and a hand with an iron grip encased your throat.  His hand was metal.  Titanium.  Something that glinted every time that the red light flashed.  You dropped your gun, clawing at his hand with wide eyes.  

“Wait, w—wait,” you choked out, his grip only tightening.  You were losing consciousness, and fast.  Just before you went under, you felt him let go.  But ultimately, it didn’t help you any as you collapsed onto the floor.  

You don’t remember what happened after that.  If S.H.I.E.L.D got what they needed done.  Because when you woke, you were still at Hydra’s base.  

You woke up, chained to a metal table.  You hadn’t been gagged, which surprised you.  Perhaps they needed you to talk.  But as you went to scream, pain shoots through your throat.  

“Ah, ah, ah,” a deep voice chuckled.  A man in a white lab coat came over, flashing a small light in your eyes.  “Our Winter Soldier damaged your vocal cords and you most definitely have a bruised trachea.  You might want to save your breath and stay quiet.  It will be some time before you can properly speak again.”

You stared up at the man, tears in your eyes.  

He just smirked at that.  

“You know,” he cleared his throat.  “He felt guilty about it.  Which is,” he sucked in a breath through his teeth.  “Unfortunate.  We had to wipe his memories again, which is painful.  More painful than a bruised trachea,” the doctor spoke as he placed a hand over your throat.  

Your eyes widened and you tried not to move.  Just the slightest touch of the doctor’s hands sprung more tears to your eyes and you tried not to make any noise as your tears began to fall.  But how you were laying caused them to run down the sides of your temples and into your hair.  They didn’t even give you the opportunity to properly cry.  

Just moments after the doctor caused you pain again, he shot you up with something, knocking you out.  

You don’t know how long you had been out.  It had just felt like hours.  But when you did wake, you weren’t at Hydra anymore.  You were in one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s rooms.  There was a heart monitor beside you that steadily beeped, and you were hooked up to a couple IV’s that poked out of your forearm.  You blinked rapidly to get used to the bright, fluorescent lights.  

A voice came from the side.  “Agent [Your Last Name].”  It was Tony Stark.  “How are you feeling?”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes.  “I…”  Your voice was scratchy, but it didn’t hurt like it had not too many hours ago.  “Stark.”  You forcibly cleared your throat, squeezing your eyes shut.  “Where am I?”

“In the Avengers tower.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.  “What?”

Tony’s eyes softened as he watched you.  “[Your name], you’ve been in a coma for about five months.  Things have changed.”

Your eyes shot open and you looked over at the man.  You quickly went to sit up, nausea quickly overtaking you.  “What the fuck?”

Tony frowned and took a seat next to you.  “That doctor while you were in Hydra put you into a medical coma.  He… well, we are still running tests to see what exactly he did to you.  We haven’t been able to figure out if he truly did anything.”

“I’ve been asleep for five months?  I—you think he did something to me?” you said, tears quickly forming in your eyes.  “Tony, are you serious?”

Tony frowned and nodded.  He went to speak again, but there was a knock at the door.  A man with shaggy hair stood there, but you couldn’t make out his face.  He stayed slightly behind the door, not allowing you to see all of him.  

Tony sighed and stood up.  “I’ll be back, kid.  Just… press the red button if you need any help, okay?”

“Tony,” you said, furrowing your eyebrows.  

He didn’t stay, leaving you alone in the room with whoever the hell was standing at the door.  

When the man stepped past his hiding spot, you felt every breath of air rush out of you.  You sat there, your body starting to tremble.  You reacted slowly, but after a moment of pure panic, you reached over to grab the remote that had the red button.  

The man must have known that is what you were going to do because he grabbed it before you could.  

“Wait, wait, I just—I’m not going to hurt you.  I won’t.  I promise.  I just came to apologize,” he frowned at you.  

“Get out, get out—you,” you took in a deep breath, “you are the reason I’m here.  Please get out.”

“I’ll leave, just hear me out.  Please,” he quickly said.  

You clenched your jaw, squeezing your eyes shut.  But you didn’t say anything else.  

He took that as an “okay” for him to talk.  “I’m sorry,” he said, watching you closely.  “When I realized what was going on, I tried to stop.  I…  I didn’t know what they were going to do to you.  If I hadn’t done anything, they could have just killed you on the spot.  I don’t know why I told them to run tests on you.  But I did.  And you’re alive.  I’m so sorry.”

“You’re the Winter Soldier, yeah?”

“Was.” the dark haired man said.  “I was the Winter Soldier.  My… my name is Bucky.  I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore.  I’m sorry for what I did to you when I was him.”

You quickly wiped your tears away, not wanting to cry anymore.  You had just been in a coma for five months, but you don’t believe that you had ever been more tired.  You opened your eyes to look over at the man.  “Bucky,” you stared, your bottom lip quivering.  

“I can leave.  I’m sorry.  I just needed to apologize to you—”

“—no, I…” you swallowed thickly, closing your eyes again.  “Stay.  I… I don’t want to be in here alone.”

Bucky blinks slowly at you before he pulls over a chair to sit close to your bed.  He sits the remote with the red button beside you on the bed.  You look at it and then look at him again.  

“Are you saying you saved my life?”

Bucky gave a small nod.  

You purse your lips, sniffling softly.  “Thank… thank you.  For not letting them kill me.”

His eyes widened a bit.  

“You did get me put in a coma, though.  You owe me, big time,” you said, closing your eyes once more.  You laid back in the medical bed you were in, clearing your throat.  “I… you can leave once I go to sleep.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, leaning back in the chair that he sat in.  

“Thank you,” you repeated.  

“You don’t need to thank me.  For anything.  I’m the one who got you in this mess in the first place.  I just… I’ve felt so bad.  Ever since they found you.  I wanted to apologize.  But you just wouldn’t wake up.”

When you didn’t answer him, he figured you were asleep.  But he didn’t leave.  He sat there, watching you for a moment.  He, himself, felt like crying.  Bucky knew that while he was the Winter Soldier, he did what he was told to do.  He couldn’t prevent himself from doing something other than what they said.  Whatever overtook him that fateful night to save you was beyond him.  Whatever had compelled him to do so had saved your life, and even though you had said it was okay, he knew that he would never forgive himself.  

He hardly knew you.  But he knew that he would do anything for you to get back to the life you once had before he knocked it upside down.