#it put me at ease that canonically he's well and alive

[belongstocaptaindoyle]

Series!Doyle: gets killed by Libby Book!Doyle: HAH I can't be arsed to go to the Dusters' territory! proceeds to smoke in his office

[drafthorsemath]

Home

A/N: I still want Tech to be alive so I’m making it happen and all working within the scope of canon. Here we have old man Tech and Phee.

Warnings: disabled Tech, talk of his fall and the aftermath, discussion of broken bones and almost bleeding out

Word Count: 1.534k

There was a lot of hustle around the rebel base. Several pilots were headed out, but Tech was more concerned with who was coming in. Omega had comm’d to say she left Pabu and was on her way. Tech sighed. Just as she was coming he would be going. More than that, while he and Phee stopped by so they could use their skills to fix up an old ship for a new crew, Omega would be out in the thick of it and he was worried for her. He knew they were all worried about her, but just as he respected Echo’s choice and Crosshair’s choice in years past, he respected hers as well. She was as ready to be a rebel pilot as ever, very much in part to the lessons he gave her back on Pabu.

“Hey Brown Eyes,” Phee said with a hand on his shoulder. “Ready to go?”

“Nearly,” he replied, smiling as she ran her hand through his graying and still thinning hair.

He reached for his spanner on the side of his hoverchair and continued to work on the power booster in front of him. He flinched just slightly as he made some adjustments. The arthritis wasn’t making it any easier. Still, he was pleased that while there he and Phee showed some new recruits as many skills as they could.

He put his tools back in place along the side of the humming hoverchair and took a breath. Phee smiled down at him. He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. She was as lovely as ever. Gray streaks in her hair and small wrinkles forming on her face, but no amount of time dulled her spirit. He could never forget the day he finally made it back to Pabu and the relief he felt to see her and his family. Echo was off with Rex, but he was assured he was safe. Omega and Crosshair were home and Wrecker and Hunter had started easing into island life. 

“Better late than dead?” he asked the first time he saw Phee after stumbling off a ship.

She threw her arms around him with tears in her eyes and despite the pain he was still in, he embraced her warmth.

“So much better late than dead, Brown Eyes.”

His body had been through so much. Bones had taken months to mend and he knew that some of them hadn’t healed properly. He went through the painful process of a doctor rebreaking and resetting them. Phee sat with him through every procedure and he knew for sure that he wanted her in his life for however long it was. He woke up in agony after the worst of it, his lower back and legs in braces. She sat in a chair and rested her head on the bed near him. He softly smiled and put a hand on hers. 

During his recovery they started running low on med patches. She flew into imperial territory just to get more for him and to restock the supply on the island. It was during that time he was able to catch up with Crosshair. Both men were relieved to see each other and it didn’t take long for them to find their way into a comfortable mix of conversation and shared silence.

“How did you do it?” Crosshair asked. “Survive?”

“I thought that was probably going to be the end of me,” Tech admitted. “But I was able to change the angle of my fall and thankfully I hit the edge of a body of water and softer ground. The impact probably would have killed me otherwise.”

He went on to explain that all he could remember was trying to take his helmet off because his comms had died and his helmet cracked. Somewhere along the way he lost his goggles and slowly realized a piece of broken armor had pierced his abdomen. He kept it in place to reduce the risk of bleeding out as he stumbled along, but the terrain quickly became the familiar stone they saw poke above the mist. All he remembered was passing out and waking up briefly on a ship. When he got to this part of the story, he recalled Phee warning him not to run off with any pirates. Of course it was the pirates who saved him. Granted, they thought they could get some money selling his armor and possessions and were unable to get the elaborate set up off his body with his chest plate twisted as it was, so they just took all of him. One of the pirates couldn’t stand to watch him bleed out and so got him some minimal medical treatment that ended up being just enough to save his life. He spent months trying to get back to Pabu and contact his brothers, but the Empire was everywhere at this point and he had to focus on not getting caught since he couldn’t very well run from them. His best bet was to be friendly with the pirates and help them in an attempt to help himself. He knew the coordinates to some useful planets and knew how to fix just about any broken thing put in front of him. He essentially hitched a ride around the galaxy while his body tried to mend.

Tech looked at his brother with a bit of a grimace.

“I decided if they want to use me for my skills then fine. It kept me alive and I used them as transport in return. Eventually we made it close enough that I knew I could probably get here without a major medical event. I took a small ship, left while they were out drinking, and finally made it to Pabu. You know the rest.”

Crosshair put his hand on Tech’s shoulder just as his brother had done with him countless times.

“We survived and we’re here now,” Crosshair said. “That’s all that matters now.”

It took weeks for Tech’s body to heal the rest of the way, but this time he had hope and real help. Even on days when he could barely move, Phee and his brothers helped him get up and down, made sure he had something to eat, made sure he had something else to keep him occupied, and helped him in and out of the refresher. Once he was ready, Tech accompanied her on trips to recover artifacts. Phee was extra careful, knowing that his soldiering days were very well behind him and never wanting him put in too much danger. Still, he had a few tricks up his sleeve and was very creative when it came to making technology work for him even when his body struggled. More than that, he simply wanted to be with Phee any way he could.

Unfortunately as time went on, his old injuries made it difficult to walk very far. He crafted his own hoverchair, but could still go from the chair into bed or another seat. He still walked short distances, but the chair supported him for the most part. He was not-so-secretly fond of asking Phee to sit in his lap and taking her for “a stroll” around the island.

When Echo got word that the rebellion needed help rebuilding a ship, Tech’s face lit up. There was no stopping him. He and Phee would be back to Pabu after this one last job. Just one more ship to rebuild and then he could rest. Of course Phee knew better and shook her head. As much as his body was giving out on him, his head would never rest and it was one of the things she loved most about him. He always kept his mind occupied, exceptional as always.

They finished loading some items onto their ship, but stayed to greet Omega when she landed. He embraced his sister before grilling her on piloting procedures only to be met with a familiar pair of rolled eyes and an affectionate smile. Omega invited them up to see the upgrades she made to her ship. Tech greeted Gonky and was satisfied as he looked around. They said their goodbyes and Omega promised to come back and visit when she could.

“I still don’t know why she insists on keeping my old goggles with her,” Tech said as he and Phee boarded their ship.

“Because it reminds her of you,” she replied.

“Not one of our fondest memories,” he said, gazing up into his beloved’s eyes with a sad smile.

“No, but it’s all we had to hold on to for months as far as physical items,” Phee countered. “You know Omega. She brought Lula with her. She likes having those things to hold on to.”

“I know,” he said. “You’re right.”

Tech lifted himself from the hoverchair and gingerly moved to the co-pilot seat. Phee was right there ready to lend a hand, but he still had enough strength to move himself. She parked his hoverchair right behind them and pressed a kiss to his forehead before sitting in the pilot seat and punching in the familiar coordinates to Pabu. It was time to go home.

[ladydaybreaker]

Projects for the Future

Alright so...I kinda got bit by this a while ago but have been mulling it over with some friends. These are by no means going to get published any time soon but with some...questionable...things that have been put out lately I kinda wanted to show my take and how I would have done them.

These are both Role swaps by the way and because I'm me...

That means an absolutely heavy amount of Khori.

(put below the "read more" for mobile people's ease!)

First Story:

Role swap where Uzi had been the one that died that night Nori should have. Now I know what you're thinking, "but lady, you said Khori things..." and you'd be right! 'Cuz Khan's not Uzi's dad in this one. Our DDs are Serial Designation: K, Serial Designation: A and Serial Designation: L (that last one might get changed). Better known as their canon counterparts Khan, Alexei and Liam (again, last one might change). Nori is still the damaged 002 from CFL and Yeva is still 048 as well. What had happened was when Nori and Yeva escaped the labs, Nori was damaged in a way that her memory had shorted out and she barely remembered anything from it...just that there was some dark place that she didn't want to remember and that she had met Yeva there. They had escaped both with two UNNs who became known as Uzi and Doll. At least...Nori came out with Uzi. Her father is unknown (mainly because Nori's memory is damaged) and likely perished in the wake of the collapse trying to get Nori and Uzi out.

Uzi ends up dying as a child from one of the Disassemblers and it absolutely breaks Nori. Nori insists her daughter is ok and alive just...unable to come home. So she waits for a good amount of time every day by the doors until Yeva takes her home or she falls asleep (which Yeva picks her up and brings her back to the apartment). Yeva does not have the heart to tell Nori that Uzi is dead nor does she have the heart to talk about what happened to them down in the labs...about the Solver and everything. Nori's Solver seems to have regressed (but a lot of this is Yeva slipping oil into Nori's drinks and food to make sure she doesn't go into rampage mode). Doll and Yeva's husband (unnammed atm) end up dying to one of the Disassemblers (haven't decided...but it's probably going to be the third one, whether that's L or whatever person I give that swap to). So yay Doll swap is now Yeva.

Nori one day ends up running out of the colony, in a daze probably mourning her daughter and husband when she runs into K. Ends up beating him with a wrench and knocking him into a clear state (or she ends up saving him from a bad hunt where he was injured because she knows that look...and she hates that look of loss and defeat.)

Cue the whole thing of them figuring out what the Solver is yada yada. Ends up going to the labs where K ends up running into (and getting saved by) a very small and grumbly Solver core...Nori was right, Uzi survived. Barely. She's...none too happy her mother's dating a freaking sky demon because "THOSE THINGS KILLED YOUR FREAKING DAUGHTER!" But eventually comes to accept her Mom is...happy. And even more happy with both her AND K in her life...will eventually get it so Uzi gets her own body again. Yeva ends up connecting with A, the big bear of a Disassembler who...may have lost just as much as she did before. Eventually ends up with them having a kid who Yeva names after the daughter she lost long ago.

Second Story

So, this one is also a swap au but...with a tiny little twist. It's an age swap. Yes yes I know this is cringe af and weird but hear me out. I know there's an age swap with Uzi being the Mom and Khan being her son but, imma be blunt, I don't think it...feels like a proper swap. Rather it just...took the original personalities of the person they were swapping with and gave them to the person playing the role. Ain't happening here. The idea is Khan Doorman is the shining star student, valedictorian genius of his class beloved by everyone in that bunker, kinda...weird in the way he's too smart for his own good but he's charismatic. . . and then there's his absolutely batty insane mother Uzi who is a pariah menace to society and everyone fears to get on the bad end of her little 'projects' (she has magnetized people to the ceilings because they pissed her off). Khan and his mother have a strained relationship...mainly because she thinks he's boring and needs to lighten up a bit and he thinks she's a bit...wild...and lashing out ever since his father Emmett Doorman died years ago. But they do love each other and would do anything for each other. Which...is why Khan gives chase to his absolutely insane mother when she sneaks out of the safety of the bunker to kill a Murder Drone. He ends up instead finding Tall, Dark and Pretty Serial Designation (Nori. I haven't quite decided what letter to give her because well...technically it'd be N because first letter). And her squadmates Serial Designation Y(eva) and (haven't figured out who the third one is yet, whoopsies...possibly L for Luke or A for Alice).

Of course, Khan is infected with the Solver, Uzi I haven't decided if she is or not...part of me is like "give her a break and have her just be awesomely crazy and angsty on her own that she made 002 fall head over heels for her". And SD Nori finds Core Emmett in the mines...which would lead to a heartbreaking Nuzi moment later as Uzi actually...breaks the edgy angry persona and shows vulnerability as she hugs the love of her life close to her...as she thought she'd lost him forever. And me being me, Y ends up being enamoured with Khan's best friend and madlad sharpshooter Alexei because you can pry him from my cold dead hands...

I haven't really gotten much on those swaps other than the bits of where Khan, Nori, Yeva, Alexei and Uzi fit in. But I wanted to share them because they've been rattling in my brain long enough...

[only-lonely-star]

‧₊ ᵎᵎ ⋆ 🎃 ˚｡⋆.ೃ࿔ Halloween HCs ‧₊ ᵎᵎ ⋆ 🎃 ˚｡⋆.ೃ࿔

Warnings - Mentions of gore, Johnny’s headcanons are kind of sad tbh 😭, “laced” candy, mentions of Curtis’ deceased parents.

Author’s Note - These are miscellaneous headcanons!! I can’t bring myself to wait until Halloween to post this, so I’m doing it now! I’ve been in the fall mood for so long and this scratched my brain just right. I would kill to live in Tulsa around the holiday season in the 60s- like you guys don’t even understand. I hope you enjoy! 🐈‍⬛🍂

── ── ⋆⋅🎃⋅⋆ ── ──

The Curtis gang NEVER misses on Halloween, it’s their night.

I can definitely see Two-Bit going all out with his sister (I personally HC her to be younger, around 6 maybe), and decorating their porch all cutesy with jack-o-lanterns and fake spiderwebs. Two-Bit would probably take her trick or treating around 7-8 pm when it’s just getting dark. He’ll save the actual night for fun with the gang.

Soda and Ponyboy still go trick or treating even though most greasers see that as “little kid stuff” and stop around the age of 12. It’s like a tradition for them to go every year. Darry grew out of it before their parents had passed, but when they were still alive they sent him to drive Soda and Pony around town and help out with navigating the streets. He still does it to feel more at ease with them going out as well as reminiscing on past Halloweens. (This made me think of the annual ornament situation from S.E Hinton’s Christmas story 💔)

Darry always rummages through Soda and Ponyboy’s bags and picks out his favorites to smuggle from them, hoping they won’t notice. I just know he loves his chocolate bars - I’m talking Hershey’s bars and Milky Way bars.

I feel like Dally would be an even bigger asshole and blame it on Halloween.

Dally tricks, he doesn’t treat.

He’d also pull all sorts of pranks on people he knows just for kicks. He’d try and scare Tim or some shit by messing with his lights and causing loud banging sounds from outside. Tim obviously knows it’s Dally so he chooses to ignore him until he can’t take it anymore.

Steve’s favorite holiday growing up was always Halloween. He would always earn the title of best dressed for the costumes Mrs. Curtis would hand sew ☹️. She took pride in it too, she’d work super hard until he was satisfied with it. (I get superhero vibes from him, maybe even like a pirate 😭)

The Curtis household is THE hangout for trading candy (let’s be honest, when is it not?)

Johnny’s favorite holiday is Halloween because it’s one of the few major holidays that doesn’t require him to see families bonding all around him ☹️ (Also because he can roam the streets without being singled out for being a Greaser.)

I’m pretty sure (like 99% sure) it’s canon that Dally is afraid of spiders, so I think it’s safe to say he fucking HATES any of those life-sized spiders people put on their windows as decoration.

Johnny hates people dressed up as the dead, it’s just unsettling to him when people do that whole ‘fake axe in the head’ thing or plastic intestines (I hope you guys know what I mean, or else I sound like I’m literally insane.)

Halloween is Ponyboy’s second favorite holiday (besides Christmas) because he gets to dress up. I think this is so cute because I also headcanon him to do theater for school. 😭❤️ Costumes are very exciting for him because he’s so used to doing it for theater.

Darry loves to carve pumpkins with silly faces and put them out on their porch for the little kids when they stop by. I personally think he’d be so great with kids since he’s had the older brother role all his life.

Darry can’t STAND fruity and chewy candy.

Two-Bit was Mickey Mouse for Halloween when he was like five and it just stuck with him. 😭 I also feel like he could imitate Mickey’s voice so well that a little part of his inner child is screams every time he successfully does it without having a voice crack.

Cherry ironically hates cherry-flavored lollipops or chews even though everyone hands her that specific flavor to be funny. She thinks it tastes like medicine. (She likes the fruit though!)

Soda will gladly suck down the old grandma candy nobody likes. Those strawberry chews, butterscotch, off-brand candy corn - he’ll eat all of it.

Steve would totally try to make the DX all festive for Halloween and tell Soda “it’s for the kids” even though no kids willingly go to the GAS STATION unless their parents drag them along.

Ponyboy lovessss Halloween movies and usually wants to watch them with Johnny since he loves the horror portion of a ‘Halloween movie’. Johnny likes the thrill.

Two-Bit dresses up at school on Halloween. He doesn’t give a shit, it’s canon he just goes for kicks.

Johnny likes to hang with Dally and mess with people or play stupid pranks on them since he really doesn’t like the idea of trick-or-treating at sixteen.

Johnny grew out of trick-or-treating at a young age. He felt he was too mature for it since he was forced to toughen up as a kid due to his parent's constant abuse. Normal child activities feel foreign to him.

Halloween parties at Buck’s go CRAZY and Dally always looks forward to seeing those girls in skimpy ‘costumes’. (Very Mean Girls ‘Halloween rule’ inspired.)

Darry used to always be like a little photographer on Halloween eve and would take pictures of Soda and Pony and proudly show the pictures to their parents. “Pony, give me your pillowcase so i can take a photo… now hold your hat up… smile normally, not in character….perfect…”

“Careful, you gotta check that candy first, kid. people hide blades and stuff in candy,” while Two-Bit stabs Ponyboy’s candy bar with his switchblade and laughs his ass off.

I’m so ready for Halloween. I don’t care how old I get, I’ll always love dressing up and shit and just fall vibes in general. I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did making it.

I LOVE YOU, THANK YOU FOR READING 💋

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 21

Find the series masterlist

John makes his way to Ace. More of Gray's plans are revealed.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, swearing, tense situations, gunshots, Gray continues to be chaotic evil, they're shooting at us.

Word count: 1.8k

You hated Gray. So much. 

And he hadn't even touched you. 

The driver had grabbed your arm and guided you down the stairs and into this little windowless room. What for, you didn't know, but you had your suspicions. 

You suspected all his talk of bringing you pain through the deaths of those closest to you hadn't just been something he'd said to scare you. 

But still. You were alive, at least for now. The door was locked - you'd checked. And you were mostly uninjured. 

You had to think, you had to find a way out of this. 

But you had nothing on you that would help. Fortunately you’d left your phone behind, because once you’d been shepherded into the room, the driver had frisked you. 

Not that there was anything for him to find.

You were well and truly fucked. 

For a moment, the temptation to kick the door was so strong you nearly did, lips pulling back from your teeth in impotent rage even as you shifted your weight and pulled one leg back to kick. 

Then you paused. 

That had been a noise outside the door. Maybe Gray had sent someone for you, maybe he was finally ready to do whatever he was going to do. You skittered away from the door to give yourself more room, crouching a little. 

You really weren’t trained in self-defense, not a lot, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. 

Hell, might even be better to be shot than live through whatever Gray had planned. 

The lock clicked and the door eased open. The man knelt in front of the door was unfamiliar to you, but dressed as a soldier. He eased back, and for a moment you wondered why. 

Until John stepped around him and into the room. 

You blinked once and stumbled forward half a step. “John?” 

“Ace.” He stepped closer, one hand cupping your shoulder while he did a visual check-over of you. “Are you hurt?” 

“No,” you said, shaking your head, drinking in the sight of him. “How did you–?”

“Can you shoot?” 

You swallowed but nodded. Kate had taught you, made sure you knew how to handle weapons. 

“Good.” John unclipped a spare handgun, handing it over to you. “You keep behind me, love. Understand?” 

“Yes.” You swallowed once more but took the gun, holding it steady. You could get your answers later. “Who's this guy?” You nodded to the other man, who was waiting for you by the door. 

“Roach.” Price stepped out first, glancing back only once to make sure you were still following. “You can trust him.” 

“Right.” You followed behind Price, trying to stay quiet. This was not your area of expertise - you could be quiet and sneaky when you needed, but this? Was way outside your comfort zone. You were not trained for this kind of thing, something you were very aware of. 

The three of you were silent as you headed down a corridor. It was vaguely familiar, but only vaguely. Not that it mattered. 

You were happy to be putting your back to this place. 

John motioned you to pause, and you froze. A voice up ahead seemed to be the cause for concern, but it grew a little fainter. John pointed you to stay before he crept forward, alert and silent. Behind you, Roach tapped your shoulder. You half-turned to look at him, curious, and he just held up three fingers. Two. One. 

A meaty thud nearly pulled your gaze from Roach except he shook his head, pointing from your eyes to his. You swallowed but held his gaze until he nodded and gently nudged you forward. 

You looked once but all you saw was a smear of blood along the floor going into another room. You weren't foolish enough to even think about opening the door. 

The way back up to ground level was clear, nobody in your way. Your fingers ached with tension where they were clenched around the gun, but you weren't shaking. 

John led you for a ways, leaving you briefly wondering how deep this building really was. You'd been a little distracted going in - it had been hard to catalog distance between the panic and rage. 

Besides, you'd been moving much faster when you'd been escorted in.

John pushed you back into a wall, Roach blocking in your other side. You went still, keeping your gaze on John to help quell your nerves. 

The soft crackle of a radio clued you in to what had tipped off the other two. 

“They're not responding, sir.” The voice was quiet and masculine, a little muffled like there was a wall between him and you. “Yeah, I sent another guy down to check. He hasn't responded either.” 

Another pause, like he was listening to a response. Then a strained, “Understood, sir. I'll contact you when it's done.” 

You frowned, trying to puzzle pieces together. If you assumed he had been talking to Gray, reporting in, then the men he'd referred to could be the ones in the basement, undoubtedly dead now. Which meant that Gray was probably getting suspicious. 

Which meant it was time to go. 

You looked to John, anxious and starting to feel jittery, only for him to jerk his head once in the negative. Apparently not yet. You breathed in slowly, flexing your fingers one at a time. 

“Groberson. We're bringing it down.” The man again, more brusque this time. Clearly used to giving orders. “No, now. Get it done. I'm giving you five minutes.” 

Your heart sank, nerves jangling. That didn't sound good. At all. Your feet itched to run, to get out. And this time, you were fairly certain you weren't the only one. 

John made you all wait another three moments before he moved, once again trusting you'd be right behind him. Which you were, just barely holding back from overtaking him. 

One of the mercenaries rounded the corner just ahead of the group of you. John shot him with barely a hitch in his stride. 

“Keep close,” John said, though he didn't look back at you. You swallowed hard, ignoring the body on the floor and hurrying after John. 

Not much further. It couldn't be much further until you'd be out. 

John must have been thinking the same thing, because he picked up the pace. Sunlight shone through windows and glass doors, beckoning you. 

“Down,” John hissed, and a hand from behind helped shove you down into the shelter of an overturned table. The three of you huddled silently, and you heard multiple footsteps pass in a hurry. 

It wasn't just you three trying to get out of the building now. 

“Go.” John moved forward, still crouched, and you did your best to follow. A loose line of tables and bell carts obscured you somewhat from view. 

You just hoped it would be enough. 

A radio crackled nearby and you flinched. Roach pushed you to keep you moving. 

You couldn't hear what the person on the radio said. But a few more people left the building, moving fast. 

John pushed open a side door, the emergency sign long gone out. Roach moved up next to you instead, putting himself between you and the direction the mercenaries had run off. 

Hopefully you wouldn't see any more. 

Luck was almost on your side. John picked up the pace, moving faster, and you kept up. 

Hopefully he had a car somewhere. 

The first shot sent all three of you down to cover. Your heart beat loud and fast in your ears, your hands clenched tight around your borrowed gun. 

“Roach, you got eyes on?” John kept his voice low, scanning around the group of you. You ducked further at a second shot that hit the concrete half-wall you three were huddled behind. 

Roach hummed softly, foot tapping twice. You glanced at him but he was entirely focused on whatever he could see, paying you no mind. 

“Take the shot.” John sounded cold, detached. Much more like when you'd first met him. Far from scaring you, that tone brought you comfort. Because you knew that meant things were getting done. 

Even though you were expecting it, the sharp report of the gunshot startled you, and you flinched. Neither man reacted. 

“Good kill,” John murmured, getting up again. You were quick to scramble after him. “Right, I've got a vehicle nearby. Any idea where Gray is?” 

You only realized the question was aimed at you when those hard blue eyes focused on you, nearly knocking the wind out of you. You shrugged. “A guess, nothing more.” 

“Tell me anyway.” John shepherded you along to the car, taking the gun back from you. You sat in the back without fuss. Well. Without verbal fuss. You were still anxious and fidgety, but you could keep that to yourself. 

“I think he's gone after Kate.” Even just giving voice to your fear had you making a face in concern. You hated the thought, you hated that there wasn't a lot you could do…

But John could. 

John swore, and the car lurched forward. You squeaked, grabbing the door handle and holding tight. 

The boom from behind made all of you hunker down a little instinctively, and you twisted just enough to see debris and dust billow out as the building collapsed. John turned the car sharply, nearly throwing you into the door, putting space between the car and the collapsing building. 

With good reason. You could hear glass breaking and car alarms going off. 

“We're going straight to Laswell,” John grit out, glancing at you in the rear view mirror. “Don't have time to drop you elsewhere.” 

“Good,” you agreed. 

“You'll have a gun, and you'll stay behind me.” 

“Fine.” That was no problem. You knew you didn't have the expertise to be a lot of help in this situation. But you needed to see for yourself that Kate was alive and okay. 

You'd never be able to live with yourself if Gray killed her. 

“Gaz, do you copy?” John lifted one hand from the wheel to touch his comm unit, and you blinked. You honestly hadn't even realized he was linked up to anyone. “Gaz?” His jaw clenched, tension clear in the line of his shoulders. 

Your heart trembled in your chest. 

“They must be leaving,” Price surmised, sounding like he was half speaking to himself. “Kate might be alone.” 

Your heart dropped clear out of your chest. No. No, no, no. She couldn't be alone with Gray. 

He'd kill her.

John met your gaze for a single moment in the rearview mirror. But the rage in his eyes halted your despair, gave you enough borrowed strength to shore yourself up. 

Kate was smart and strong. She'd manage until backup arrived. She'd be okay. 

She had to be.

[missfrustration]

grip on the barrel (toji fushiguro x reader, 18+)

rating: explicit 18+, minors do not interact!

tags: pwp, shameless smut, canon universe, hate sex, misogynistic and sexist language, degradation, gun kink, muzzle kink, masturbation, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, co-workers, not for the faint of heart

A/n: the following content contains some pretty intense gunplay, and some seriously fine toji content, you have been very warned! on ao3 here!

word count: 2.3k

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“I didn’t think you were the type to torture someone��after they spit out everything they know.”

“I didn’t think I would be hired to work with a brat like you.”

The man in front of you methodically wiped off his stained knives before putting them in an engorged purple worm you couldn’t believe was real. You shook it off.

“Maybe if you weren’t so bold in how you handle your missions, I wouldn’t have to help your sorry ass, Toji.”

The man says nothing, choosing to lazily stride ahead of you to the rendezvous spot in the tunnel of back alleys.

Although you were hired specifically for your information-gathering skills and methods, you were not fully briefed on the assigned target, the ‘Vessel.’ Yet here you are, with the secretive organization’s lead hitman at their disposal, Toji Fushiguro.

You catch up to him, pointing a conniving finger at the side of his face. It’s the same side that has that harrowing scar on his mouth. 

“And what you did back there? I’ve been doing this as long as you, Toji, and we both know a chump that’ll start talking after a few punches. Bringing in the damn armory fucks up our plan when you start cutting off tongues.”

“Let’s get one thing straight, little lady.” He turns to you, towering over your figure with an intimidating presence that is overly purposeful. The blood on his chest from the mission is prominent, with no intention of him to hide it. “I don’t play when there’s money on the line. If you don’t follow my lead, we don’t do the job right, and you’ll end up like them. Got it?”

You step up to him, unbothered by his threat. He cocks his head at your audacity to challenge him.

“I can work fine on my own. Not my fault your m.o. is shitty enough to have a girl like me work with you.”

“The only time I work with girls like you is when they have hands that please me. Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue at you, rubbing his neck. To him, you’re a pest he’s stuck with that he has no intention to entertain.

“I’m sure they get paid to please you. Must be dehumanizing to fuck a hardass.”

“They’re the ones that end up giving me money. I do too well for them.”

“Jesus, gag me.”

“With that attitude, I won’t.” His comebacks come out with ease, yet they make you want to die on the spot.

“Look, I know you know more about this stupid vessel than the organization does. Not only that, you reveal classified client information to the only suckers that you decide to keep alive. That doesn’t sound like getting the job right; it sounds like you don’t care what’s best for the clients if it’s in the way of your fucking ego. Likely, you don’t even have the brain capacity to process what I just said.” 

His face clicks to you as it contorts in anger. In a flash, his fingers fly to your hair, pulling your head by the scalp to yank your eyes to him. His other hand pulls a gun from the creature and aims at the thick of your temple.

His face levels with yours, now flush against your ear. 

“I don’t need a wench like you talking shit to me. All you women are good for is being fucked.” His words are like daggers, piercing violently into your ear in booms.

Toji moved quicker than you could process, and your breath hitches from his hands on you. He slams you against a brick wall and the barrel of the gun presses against the side of your head. His hands roughly tangled in your hair, and his annoying mouth pressed to your ear again.

“I got no brain, huh? Say that shit again when I paint yours all over this fucking alley.” His tone is purposeful; the words are annunciated as he buries the gun to your head. He wants you to be scared enough to submit under him.

You should back down now—say you’re sorry about pissing him off and to let you go—yet you’re the opposite of scared. Your hastened breaths seem to be from the terrifying scene presented to you. That’s the natural reaction from someone else in your position. 

You try to pry yourself off, only succumbing to his raw strength. But Toji can see the change in your eyes when the weapon is turned on you and your bodies feel so close. 

Mmph.

You moan from the hands that hold you, making any words of defense hold no weight. You scramble from his hands to grasp any dignity, but the eyes that were once blazed in hellfire are now doused in curiosity.

“Oh, interesting ,” Toji says, pulling you close as he looks at your heated face. His face is irritatingly smug. “I guess I was right about you, little girl.”

“You fucking asshole,” You seethe. “Just put me down.”

“Oh, do you really want that? I can tell by your eyes that you fucking love this, don’t you?” He glides the handgun down your face, sliding down your chin and now firmly planted on the corner of your lips. “I can shut that dirty mouth up if I wanted to.”

“Like hell you could.” 

But you can’t deny the sensation in between your legs when he points the gun at you. He rubs the barrel of the handgun, twisting it against your skin as if to carve it into you.

This same man has killed more people this week than nights in a year. He tortures with no remorse and kills with no feeling—a cold, calculated monster who now turns all of his sadistic tendency towards you. You were so close to death that you could practically taste the power from the barrel that could shoot into your skull at one pull of his finger.

And you can’t help but moan again. 

You can’t help but pant from feeling overwhelmed by the dangerous man in front of you. It was like spinning a life-or-death roulette, with each second more thrilling than the last. 

“You’re drooling like a mutt. You’re the craziest bitch I’ve met.” Toji laughs. “Why don’t you show me you’re more interesting than women I use off the job?” 

Your bloodstream fills will rage, caging your body from total submission. But you know he has you cornered: your biggest turn-on has been revealed. 

“You fucking deaf? You can’t do anything better than every girl that’s opened her legs for me.” He snares.

“Asshole.” 

Your mouth moves to suck on the gun. The hard rubber of the silencer clacks with your teeth, and your lips clasp a ring around the barrel. 

You’re not stupid to know that there are a few more shots in his magazine. Toji shot in the ceiling earlier to intimidate the grunts you got information from. He’s only a trigger away from blowing your head off, yet the level of danger has you moaning on the gun, half-lidded and legs trembling against Toji’s calloused body. 

“Jesus,” Toji says.

You notice a glint of exhilaration in Toji’s eye, and a jolt of arousal runs down your spine when you feel the pressure of the gun increase. 

Toji shoves the silencer down your throat, watching your lips swallow it down and eyes begin to water.

Above all, Toji was more interested that you haven’t pulled away from the long barrel shoved down your throat, instead your cheeks hollow out. You choose to take it in your mouth, now sucking enough to taste the bitterness of the gunpowder still left on the muzzle.

“Thought I was just some hardass, hm? Now I have you gagging it down like a slut.”

He pulls it out of your mouth, watching you cough out. 

“Bastard, I know you like this too.” You say, “You wouldn’t keep going unless you liked it.”

“With some girl thinking she’s all that?” Toji forces your body on the ground with your back flush to the brick wall. “What I want is to have you squirm.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Your ass hurts from that fall, causing you to shift your legs. 

“Easy.”

You don’t think you should’ve shifted, as Toji eyes narrow on them. In one fluid motion, he grabs your legs before ripping your cargo pants off of you. He didn’t even spare a second to look at your black lacy underwear before tearing it off. Within seconds, he already has you stripped bare on your bottom half. 

Then he grabs his gun again. 

“Don’t keep them closed.”

Toji’s hand split into your thighs, cracking them open with sandpaper palms. Even his grip is brutish, and you see your soft skin squish from it. When you tried to close your legs, it seemed that he would wretch your plump thighs wider. He puts himself between them. 

You can see the lights in his eyes go off when Toji’s face contorts to sick pleasure. He grabs the gun and dives it between the aching apex of your thighs. 

The second the cold muzzle of the gun touches your clit, you feel a wave of warm fuzz. You practically melt into the touch. He languidly rubs it against you, watching you twitch against the gun in sick intrigue. 

“Such a deprived slut.”

“And you’re a sick fuck.”

Yet, both of your eyes are glued to the scene. Toji is practically fucking you with the gun with the way it rocked into you. You moaned against him, reveling in the way he could easily mutilate your body if he wanted to. It all made the gun slick against you faster. 

A devilish smirk came to your face. 

“Put it in.” 

Toji raised an eyebrow, obviously persuaded by your offer yet not wanting to give in without pure degeneracy.

“Touch yourself before I do.”

No, this man wants to defile you without holding back. You could practically gag, yet it was lost on the erotic sound on your tongue. You fucking hate Toji, yet you’re hate fucking at its finest with the Sorcerer Killer. 

You gather your juice on your fingers before diving into your pink bud of nerves. The thousands of nerves screamed in lust when the skin contacted. 

“Shit.” 

Toji’s eyes gall to your hands, watching you fuck your sensitive clit. Your hand flicks back and forth so fast that invites Toji to thrust the silencer into you. You feel your walls stretch to the gun, screaming from the pain of the rugged ridges, yet your legs shake from the ecstasy. 

The way that Toji grips his trigger makes you lull your head back. Your fingers start to work a pace that rocks you closer. You feel so close, but you stop before you can cum. You want this moment to last.

Toji could give less of a fuck what you wanted.

“Who said you could stop?” Toji says, starting to thrust it inside you at a degenerate pace. He grabs your hair, lunging into your ear. 

“Keep. Going.”

You grunt in annoyance, yet you comply like a dog.

Your fingertips come back to your pink bud, rocking your hips against your hand slowly. Toji’s body is pressed against you, focusing on panting and sucking your sensitive ear, encouraging you to keep going. He grunts into your ear, lips taking your lobe, biting it hard enough for you to squeak, thrusting the barrel fast enough to make you cum; it’s all so sadistic, yet you didn’t stop him.

Toji rustles his hand out of your hair and down his pants, popping his hard erection out before immediately beating it off. The way he starts to pant from the sensation, from the vision of you, was both annoying and so enticing. You displayed your dripping arousal to him, watching the movie that was his cock bucking into his hand. 

You ram against the wall from the sheer intensity of Toji thrusting his silencer into you, erotic noises come out of your mouth, ripping out of you when Toji bites down on your neck. It was the catalyst for your entire cunt to burst in pleasure.

You burst into animalistic moans as you cum on Toji’s gun, and he sure as hell loved it. He helped you ride that despicable orgasm with each deep thrust of the gun hitting your cervix. The pleasure was so overwhelming your thighs hugged against his body, and you lunged into the crook of his neck. You bit down on the flesh of his shoulder mid-climax, fully enthralled by sheer pleasure that it was almost too much to bear.

Once Toji pulls out of the gun, he eyes down the creamy substance that stained the black exterior. It dripped down like honey before it lifted onto Toji’s tongue. He swallowed it with an insatiable hunger, practically rolling his eyes when his lids fluttered.

“The roughest girls taste the sweetest,” He groans erotically. “It makes me want more.”

“Like you could’ve taken it further,” you panted, starting to get up.

Toji scoffs.

“Oh, that would’ve really killed you,” He darkly laughs, “and I need you to make it to the rendezvous. I’d rather die than have to carry you there.”

“If you keep your vulgarity, I would rather die than have you touch me again.”

“Don’t be like that. I can catch you on a day we're off and easily break you in like a fucking bottle. Get a little vacation from work; I’ll make sure your little legs can’t get up again.”

“Don’t count on it, asshole. Don’t think we’re buddy-buddy just because you made a girl cum for once.”

“Just admit it. You loved it like a filthy little vixen.”

“In your dreams.”

But Jesus, if he can make you feel like that without his dick, you can’t imagine what full-on sex with a cold assassin is like.

There is no fucking way to save this business relationship now.

--------

ao3 | tiktok | kofi | masterlist

[starwarskawaii]

Empanadaverse HCS

Miguel, Reader, and Both, In That Order

Essential to Miguel understanding in this universe, you can skip reader if you want so you can better project onto her lol.

Personalities:

Miguel is pretty close to canon, save for some emotional growth (this is all set after the next Spiderverse movie). Miguel is around 37 at this point and tired as shock. He's his loveable, sarcastic, caring, and trying his best self. He's made progress in forgiving himself and no longer tries to blame himself for what happened to his daughter. When he does, he stops himself. A lot of this is thanks to you, but he started this journey before you thanks to the Spiderkids. (I operate under the assumptions made in my previous Miguel headcanons, save for the Lyla thing. And clearly also the age gap thing.)

Reader is doing her best. She's in her early to mid thirties. She's a very kind and caring person, with the kind of incredibly short fuse that only comes with using all your energy just to stay alive. She can match Miguel in stubbornness and sarcasm. Unfortunately, she can not match him in strength, so he wins a lot of their "I don't want to do this thing that could help me because I'm stubborn" fights. That bastard picks her up. She's scary as heck. Super strength or not, being hit in the shin with a cane hurts, so don't piss her off. She's a half shaved hair, black lipstick wearing, alternative girl who *might* be even scarier than ninja vampire but a good guy over here...

Miguel:

•Sarcastic, can match your energy

•Bad at naming things™️

•Will absolutely NOT be naming your future kid(Gabri? Gabriella? Does he know a name that isn't Gabriel???)

•This dummy suggested Gabrielle as a possible baby name for the future. One letter off from Gabriella. He isn't even allowed to name the cat at this point.

•Miguel is terrified your first time together. He's so worried he'll hurt you he's shaking

•LOVES your apartment. His senses are heightened, and your apartment is a sensory safe space because of your own sensory issues. He loves that you hate noise.

•He has a major soft spot for kids. Especially girls. Especially if they even remotely remind him of Gabbi.

•Has a major soft spot for anyone who lost family, having lost his own.

•Is really just a softie with a bad attitude who just needed someone to listen(and pry it out of him)

You:

•You need a caregiver for things that require extra energy, like laundry and cooking. You would not need a full-time caregiver. You are capable of caring for a child as long as you have the right partner to help ease the load (I say this so people don't question why Miguel and reader are considering kids).

•You're a member of the Cripplepunk movement (cpunk for those of you that aren't as keen on reclaiming slurs)

•Not on disability because as long as you can work the government was not dictating your life damn it.

•You really shouldn't be working though.

•Can't speak Spanish lol(Spanish speaking readers disregard lol, part 3 has a mention of this, but there will be a slightly alt version in it for if you speak Spanish, I know a lot of Miguel's fans are Hispanic)

•You make a lot of jokes about getting fridged when Miguel isn't around

•Favorite artists are Taylor Swift, Mothica, and half•alive

•Your favorite clothing brand is ACDC Rag

•You kind of hate that you have a hot boyfriend who would look so good in their unisex stuff but is TOO DAMN BIG TO WEAR ANY OF IT

Both:

•You and Miguel got as close as you did because he saw your posts about him online and realized there was no point in putting on a brave face in front of you. You already knew he was faking being okay. He might as well let someone who already understood him get to know him better.

•Miguel is a planner. You are a planner. Your body is a plan destroyer.

•Miguel calls your music "old people music." Damned future boyfriend...

•He'll take you to theme parks, even if he's limited in what he can ride because of his height.

•You two are absolute menaces when you're allowed to be pilots on the Millenium Falcon. You kind of pity the teenagers who got stuck with you guys last time.

•You're both two stubborn North Easterners who hate the cold

•"it's too shocking cold in this suit." "we should move." *confused in Spanish* "Forget I said anything"

•You eventually move into his dimension so that he doesn't have to keep using disguises to look photo realistic when you two go out. Also so he can access his wealth and better health care for you.

•Miguel insists you stop working once you move to his dimension, his reasoning being that you were only working before because life on disability was something you were desperately trying to avoid, not being too keen on the government telling you how much money you could have. He doesn't want to control you. He just wants you to have a better quality of life.

Empanadaverse taglist:

@chaithetics @ridiculous-hibiscus

[fantomette22]

Hello how you doing? ^-^

I have not checked tumblr in months but its always wonderful to see you to keep the gehrmaria space alive.. and I want to ask if you have hcs for how they both behave when the other is sick and needing care? Please and thank you dear friend ~

Hi anon! :D thank you a lot for the ask and checking in! You always put a smile on my face :) (Idk if you got other social media too that would be a pleasure to chat with you!)

I’m doing fine I would say. That depends the days.

And yeah I know I should do more on them! ejfssdhkfeihfkdskn

But yes I think you’ll be happy to know I have quite a few headcanons and ideas about this specific subject!

Well aside the AU where everyone is kinda alive and happy and they share a house, and sometimes got sick here*, I feel that in a more canon compliant setting they would rarely got sick thanks to the old blood. (*So yeah in AU they would be very sweet and patient and take care of each other when the other got sick for sure!)

Still with the hunt and all they would get hurt often and you can't always use old blood for every little scrape you got. You know you need to be careful with using old blood and all ;)

So at first I imagined when Maria got her first blood transfusion she stayed in a coma for maybe like 2 days. And her friends relay themselves at her bedside. So Gehrman did that for a huge part. (won't share all the context here but it's after facing off the keeper of the old lords! It was a a huge thing for her but she still decide to continue on the 3rd floor and Ludwig and Gehrman had to drag her back after getting KO by a gel enemy (you know the slime that fall on you)... she shouldn't have overdo it...

They did save each other lives from death situations more than once too! Even going as to carry the other on their back to get to safety! So yeah they got other others! (Yes Maria did that for Gehrman too!)

I always imagined Laurence was mainly the one to patch up and heal the old hunters who got hurt (logic) but as he got more busy and can't be everywhere, I feel they would all take care of one another and especially Maria and Gehrman being the more at ease with it (to heal the others).

I hc of course Laurence as a doctor or even surgeon (+priest lol) he is the best at sewing back skins for exemple but followed by Gehrman who's the second best! (I mean he can sew tissue very well so. Apparently it's not that far off! So now I imagined they trained together at Byrgenwerth on tissue and skins. Help ekdbd)

And then Maria learn it too. So, I imagined more than once, they might have sew back each other skins too! So yeah.

I had this silly idea... that show that they trust each other on that quite well. Like one day they are patching up, cleaning the scratches they got. It's just the 2 of them at the workshop. And at some point Maria's like : "hey hm... I got a pretty bad scar on my back hm would that be alright if you stitch it up?"

"Oh euh sure no problem."

"No I mean I need to take my shirt off... does that bother you?"

"OH! Hm... well we can wait for a nurse if that bother you..."

"No it's fine its it's you it's just... I understand if..that bother you...."

"Well... if that doesn't bother you... it's hm fine with me I think.."

"Alright..."

And it's awkward for like 2 mins before they start it. I mean it's fine she have her back to him and holding her shirt in front of her so it's ok. (wtf I am even talking about help)

Also Gehrman always have so tea or infusion for any kind of pain so he gave her a few remedy and receipt he have. But he love to prepare it too.

I also imagined that very occasionally Gehrman still got phantom pain in his leg/foot. Sometimes it's just slithy bothering or annoying but at times the pain is just too much. He can't do anything, just sitting there, gritting his teeth, almost on the verge of tears... waiting for it to pass. Somehow the better thing that smooth him is Maria presence. Talking to him and being with him. it helped the pain pass and being more beareble. (He never show that side of him to anyone but to her he did. They are here to help each other at when they're really not well. He did that for her too in the past until well.... When there were all the drama with Cainhurst and all for exemple.)

And last little thing hm. Still need to figure details but before she passed away, and clearly wasn't at her best, I imagined that maybe Gehrman did take care of her a bit. Making sure she sleeps and eat and all. Making sure she could donation and her own again. she did but well... you know how that end later. And he became slowly a giant mess without her presence...)

Sorry that's clearly not sweet so let's get back to the making soup and tea for each others and something 😭 patching up and telling the other to be careful not overdo it. Yeah that's better.

-----

Also I did try to draw something quick the other day too. It’s very messy I don’t think I did a very good job here. I didn’t wanted to post it at first.. But I figure it would still be nice to share to you and maybe others would still appreciate it as well! (I get what's like to be desperate for content and taking every lil bit so I can at least provide that!)

So there it is ^^

Have Gehrman patching her up and Maria calming him from phantom pain.

[samthecookielord]

(Previous) - (Next)

Congratulations! Romeo is alive but gay

That sets the stage for this part! :)

Jesse, just like in Season 2, takes a stroll around Beacontown with Radar. They encounter various citizens who seem on edge.

(continued + next poll under cut. CW for canon-typical suffocation)

Citizen 1: [jumps, rushes away to hide before realizing their mistake and turning back around] Citizen 1: Sorry Jesse, force of habit. How's it going? Jesse: Heh, don't worry about it.

Jesse: [waves excitedly in greeting] Citizen 2: [looks around wildly, terrified, like they're anticipating something awful is about to happen to them] Jesse: Woah, are you okay? Citizen 2: Oh- sorry, haha! Still a little spooky seeing you. Jesse: Yeah, I get that. Luckily I don't plan on actually turning evil ever, so hopefully it gets better. Citizen 2: Right!

Jesse: [literally just chilling] Citizen 3: [walks up, notices them, then looks frightened and runs in the opposite direction] Radar: Yeesh. Jesse: [sighs] It's fine. I know I'm not Romeo, but they probably still don't totally get what happened. Radar: Not fair that they're gonna be scared of you for something you didn’t even do. Jesse: Not really, but they had it way worse than I do. You can't really blame them for their gut reactions. Radar: Then that's what we work on changing! Jesse: Right!

This takes Jesse to the Underneath via the portal hall, which you can see has had a couple makeovers since it was last shown. Romeo has been staying in a dirt hut near Fred's Keep. Looking through the window, it's actually a pretty homey place. He's got like, framed items and books and stuff in there. Jesse manages to catch him right as he's leaving to go help with the farms.

Jesse: [awkwardly clears throat] Romeo: Ah, Jesse! Fancy seeing you here. Jesse: Hey... whatcha up to down here? Romeo: Well, what's it look like? I'm doing my part to fix things. Jesse, flatly: That's awesome. Romeo: I've gotta say, this whole being a good guy thing is a lot more interesting than I thought it would be. Jesse: Cool, cool beans. Actually, um, can I talk to you privately for a second? Romeo: Of course! Anything for a friend. Jesse: Mhm. [pulls him aside] Jesse: Okay, look. I know you're working to redeem yourself and everything, and that's awesome, but... Romeo: ? Jesse: The people of Beacontown, my people, you messed them up really badly. They're still on edge and still get freaked out when they see me, thinking I'm gonna hurt them. Romeo: Yeahhh, in hindsight I wasn't really ready to take on the role of 'Jesse'. Jesse: I was just wondering if, you know, there was a way to put their minds at ease a little more? Romeo: Hmm... Jesse: You could come back up and help rebuild the town, or help with Champion City. Heck, even just explaining everything and letting them know that I'm not secretly a villainous admin in disguise. Romeo: Well, there's still a lot to do down here- Wait, I've got it! Jesse: Yeah? Romeo: If your people are worried about me using admin powers for evil, we can totally get rid of my powers! Jesse: I- wait, I thought we already did that. Romeo: It's true that I can't use them anymore. But it would definitely put their minds at ease knowing admin powers are somewhere else completely! Jesse: I'm not following... Romeo: [scoffs] Obviously, I give you the powers! Finally, the one thing I can still do is being put to good use! Jesse: Woah, woah, wait. That's not what I was getting at. I didn’t even know you could do that! Romeo: It's the simplest solution! The remaining admin powers go to the person who saved the world, nobody has to worry about me being dangerous, and I can stay down here while still fixing stuff up there! [Romeo puts his hand on Jesse's head] Jesse: Romeo, wait! This isn't what- [insert garbled glitchy text] [Jesse falls to their knees, clutching their head.] Romeo: Now, if you'll allow me, I've really got to get back to the whole redemption thing! Man, I'm getting really good at this. Jesse, weakly: Come back! What did you- [Romeo is already gone.]

Upon realizing the power that’s been inflicted upon them, with no idea how to use them, Jesse begins to panic. Instinctively, they teleport into an area they consider to be safer, back in Beacontown. They can now do things just by thinking about it, which leads to muddied thoughts causing unpredictable consequences. 

Desperate for help, the first person they think to call is Radar. Radar gets there as soon as he can, and finds Jesse on the brink of a meltdown. Jesse, in between shaky and rapid breaths, manages to explain that they’ve become the Admin, they don’t know what they’re doing, and this could be really dangerous. Upon realizing his friend, whom he admires deeply, is in the midst of a borderline panic attack, Radar manages to steel his resolve and does his best to help.

He suggests that Jesse, with their new practically limitless power, first and foremost creates a barrier around the two of them. That way, if anything goes awry, it will be limited to a smaller area. Jesse agrees, though they’re still frazzled. After a bit of struggle, Jesse focuses on the creation of a barrier, and manages to create a dome composed of barrier blocks.

However, when they turn around, they realize that Radar is now trapped, suffocating in these blocks. They instantly lose focus in favor of piercing dread, not the least of their concerns being that this isn’t the first time Radar has been suffocated because of them. They try to destroy the block, but it’s unbreakable. They then attempt to delete the block in the same way they spawned it, but the fear and adrenaline make it impossible to focus the same way they did before.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

New Beginnings | Sebastian Sallow x OC #4

Summary: As Sixth Year begins, Sebastian struggles with guilt and regret over his strained friendship with Evangeline. Now back in school, he sees her carrying her own hidden burdens and reaches out, hoping to rekindle their closeness. Through small gestures and shared moments, they begin to bridge the distance between them

Words: 6,114

Tags: Friendship, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Self-Esteem, Grief and Healing, Emotional Growth, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Unspoken Feelings, Post-Canon Reconciliation, Friends to Lovers (Implied), Regret and Redemption, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

The Great Hall was alive with chatter, students filling every corner with stories from summer, gossip, and laughter. At the Slytherin table, Sebastian sat with Ominis, Violet, Nerida, and Imelda, though his attention drifted often. A plate of food sat barely touched in front of him as he pushed it around absently, his gaze flicking back to the Gryffindor table where Evangeline sat among Natty, Leander, Garreth, and Cressida.

Violet leaned forward, snapping her fingers in front of Sebastian’s face. “Are you even listening, Sallow? Or has summer stolen your sense along with your humour?”

“Sorry,” Sebastian muttered, forcing a smirk. “Still waking up, I suppose.”

Ominis turned slightly towards him, voice low enough for just Sebastian to hear. “You’re watching her, aren’t you?”

Sebastian flinched. He hadn't realized he was so obvious, but his gaze had indeed drifted to Evangeline at the Gryffindor table. She laughed at something Leander said, her face bright with an ease he hadn’t seen in a long time.

Just as he was about to look away, he heard Cressida’s voice carry across the hall, clear even amid the bustle of breakfast.

“It must’ve been lonely, though, spending the whole summer at Fallowmere House,” Cressida said, her voice tinged with sympathy.

Sebastian froze, his chest tightening as he processed what he’d just heard. Fallowmere House. He remembered her mentioning it briefly when she’d started at Hogwarts in fifth year—the magical orphanage she’d been transferred to before starting at Hogwarts. But he’d assumed… well, he’d assumed she’d stayed somewhere else over the summer, perhaps with friends.

Evangeline’s voice, soft but unwavering, answered, “It wasn’t so bad. Fallowmere is peaceful. Quiet, too. It… gave me time to think.”

Natty reached over and clasped her hand, frowning with concern. “But still, it doesn’t seem right for you to be so alone after everything.”

Evangeline’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Maybe it was a good thing.”

Sebastian’s chest twisted painfully, the weight of her words settling heavily. Alone. He hadn’t even considered the reality of her situation—not really. With Professor Fig gone, the man who was supposed to become her guardian, she had no one. No home waiting for her. And yet Sebastian had never questioned where she might have gone after the chaos of last year. He’d been so consumed by his own turmoil, by the loss of Solomon and his grappling with the choices he’d made, that he hadn’t thought to ask. And now, looking at her across the room, seeing the way she put on a brave face even for her friends, he was reminded of how deeply he’d failed her—yet again.

“Sebastian?” Ominis’s voice pulled him back, laced with gentle concern. “Are you alright?”

He barely managed to nod, his throat tight. “I'm fine."

Imelda gave him a smirk. “You don’t look fine. You look like someone’s stolen your broom.”

Sebastian ignored her, gaze drifting back to Evangeline as she took a sip of pumpkin juice, her eyes distant. The way she held herself was familiar yet different—strong like always but laced with something he couldn’t quite place. He knew that the distance between them was his own doing, but seeing her there, surrounded by friends yet visibly carrying the weight of the summer, filled him with deep regret.

Across the hall, Garreth caught Evangeline’s shift in mood and leaned in. “I say, maybe a bit of Hogsmeade shopping is in order this weekend? Cheer you up?”

She chuckled. “I think that’s your solution to everything, Garreth.”

“Ah, but you can’t deny its effectiveness,” Leander chimed in, grinning. The Gryffindors’ laughter rippled across the table, warming the space around them.

From where he sat, Sebastian felt that laughter like a distant echo. His fingers clenched into a fist under the table, the weight of the summer settling over him. How had he let this happen? He wanted to stand up, walk over, and apologize, but the wall of unresolved tension between them kept him anchored in his seat.

Violet sighed. “Seriously, Sallow. What’s got you in such a state?”

He forced himself to look away from Evangeline, flashing a quick, half-hearted smile. “Nothing, I… I just… didn’t know she’d spent the whole summer at Fallowmere.”

Violet’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, you didn’t know? I thought you two were close. Best friends and all that.”

Imelda snorted. “Seems like you missed a big detail, Sallow.”

Sebastian barely heard her, his mind racing. Fallowmere might have been peaceful, but he knew Evangeline didn’t belong there. She belonged here, with her friends. With him.

Nerida’s brow furrowed, her tone skeptical. “How could you not have known? Didn’t you at least write to her?”

Sebastian swallowed, his throat tight. “I didn’t think… I mean, I wasn’t… Things between us haven’t exactly been normal.” His voice was barely more than a murmur.

Ominis sighed, his voice quiet but steady. “Alright, enough. Both Sebastian and Evangeline have been grieving. Let’s not pile onto either of them over what’s already been a painful summer.”

He placed a gentle but firm hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, squeezing slightly as if to anchor him. “What matters now, Sebastian, is what you do next.”

Sebastian looked down, nodding slowly. “I’ve been a terrible friend.” His voice was thick with remorse. “I didn’t even ask.”

Imelda rolled her eyes, though there was a glint of sympathy beneath her usual sharpness. “Better late than never.”

_______

Later that day, Sebastian made his way to the Quidditch pitch, eager to throw himself into something physical and demanding to distract from the morning’s conversation. As Slytherin’s star chaser, he was used to being the focal point of their practices, and today he intended to live up to the title.

Imelda, the Slytherin captain, had the team assembled by the time he arrived, her sharp voice cutting through the early evening air as she laid out their strategy for the session. She spared Sebastian a quick nod before launching into her usual drill regimen, pushing them hard as she called out each player’s weak spots with unfiltered bluntness. Imelda’s standards were ruthless, and even Sebastian found himself gritting his teeth at her criticism.

About halfway through practice, she declared a quick break, mounting her broom to fly a lap around the pitch. The team took the opportunity to catch their breath and chat, their laughs carrying through the cool air. It was then that Sebastian noticed the Gryffindor team at the other end of the field, heading out after their own practice. Among them was Evangeline, chatting with Garreth as they shouldered their brooms and prepared to head back to the castle.

Sebastian’s gaze stayed on Evangeline as she walked alongside the red-head. The last time he’d seen her up close was in July, during that brief, uncomfortable visit she and Ominis had made to Feldcroft. Even then, in the quiet light of summer, she’d looked worn down, thinner than he remembered, her face gaunt with shadows under her eyes that hadn’t been there before. She’d always been fuller-figured, soft in a way that suited her, but that day, the sharp angles of her collarbones had poked through, an uncharacteristic fragility marking her usually confident frame.

Now, standing on the pitch, he saw that she’d lost even more weight since then. Her robes, usually snug around her curves, hung a little looser on her frame, and her cheeks, once full, looked hollow in the early evening light. The sight of her like this hit him with an unexpected pang of worry, a painful realization settling in: her grief had been eating away at her.

The laughter of his teammates faded into background noise as he tried to piece together what he’d missed. He’d been so tangled up in his own misery that he hadn’t even thought about what her own losses had taken from her. And now he could see the evidence right in front of him, written in the lines of her face and the slump of her shoulders as she trudged across the lawn. But before he could think to approach her, Darian, one of the Slytherin Beaters, caught sight of the Gryffindor team as well, a nasty smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, well,” Darian drawled, his voice loud enough to carry. “If it isn’t our favourite orphan. Decided to play Beater this year, did you?” He let out a derisive chuckle, making a show of sizing Evangeline up. “Not sure you’ve got the strength for it, though I suppose one could make an argument for size. In any case, isn’t it a bit above your pay grade?”

Sebastian felt his stomach twist with anger, but before he could react, another Slytherin chimed in—a wiry chaser named Silas. “Someone like you shouldn't even be on the team,” Silas sneered. “I mean, can you even trace your bloodline back a generation, Sterling?”

Evangeline tensed, but her gaze stayed steady, chin lifted. She seemed poised to ignore them, but Garreth, who had already been eyeing the Slytherins with distaste, couldn’t keep quiet.

“Oh, look,” he said loudly, shooting them a challenging look. “The snakes are out, hissing as usual. Not that I’d expect anything better from Slytherins.”

Darian’s eyes narrowed, and he sneered at Garreth. “Stay out of this, Weasley. I know you think you’re clever, but it’s no secret you’re a charity case yourself. Shouldn’t you be trying to brew something explosive to get attention?”

Garreth looked ready to retort, but Evangeline placed a calming hand on his arm. “Garreth, don’t,” she murmured, “They’re not worth it.”

But the jibes only seemed to spur Silas on. “Not a great look for Gryffindor, is it?” he mused, glancing mockingly at Evangeline. “Relying on scraps.”

Sebastian couldn’t stand it any longer. He stepped forward, his voice cutting through the group with an intensity that silenced them all. “That’s enough,” he snapped, his glare fixed on Darian and Silas.

Darian’s smirk faded, but he kept his stance defiant. “Just a bit of fun, Sallow. No need to get all sentimental.”

Sebastian’s voice was low and razor-sharp, undercutting Darian’s sneer with an intensity that silenced everyone nearby. “If that’s your idea of fun, then you’re a pathetic excuse for a man, Darian.”

Darian’s smirk wavered, and he gave a mock shrug. “Can't believe you're still standing up for her. She’s not even—”

“Say another word about her,” Sebastian interrupted, taking a deliberate step closer, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with unmistakable menace, “and you’ll be explaining to Imelda why you’re in the Hospital Wing for the next week.”

Darian’s expression faltered, and Silas shifted uncomfortably beside him. They exchanged a wary look, muttering under their breath before finally backing off, throwing one last scowl at Evangeline before walking away.

With the confrontation diffused, Sebastian turned back toward Evangeline, who was still watching him, her gaze unreadable. Garreth stood closely beside her, visibly tense from the exchange. Sebastian wanted to say something reassuring, but the words caught in his throat as he took in her weary expression.

“Thank you,” Evangeline said quietly, her voice calm but laced with something he couldn’t quite identify. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Sebastian managed a faint smile, though his frustration still simmered beneath it. “I did. They had no right.”

Evangeline’s expression softened just a little, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She looked at him, something cautious yet warm flickering in her gaze. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, her features settling back into a careful neutrality.

She took a slow breath, finally nodding. “Well… thanks,” she repeated, her voice soft.

Sebastian wished he could read her thoughts, to understand if the gratitude was genuine or if it was simply a polite acknowledgment, an attempt to maintain the walls between them. Her expression gave away so little, but there was something there—a hesitance, maybe, as if she were just as uncertain about how to navigate this as he was.

Garreth, who had been watching the exchange with an air of tense curiosity, cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Well, that was… intense,” he muttered, glancing between the two of them. Then he placed a comforting hand on Evangeline’s shoulder. “Let’s get back to the castle, Evie. You could use some tea after… all this.”

Evangeline nodded, offering Sebastian one last glance—a hesitant, fleeting look that seemed to carry both gratitude and uncertainty—before she turned and followed Garreth toward the castle.

_______

The next morning, Sebastian awoke to find a neatly folded piece of parchment on his bedside table. He blinked sleepily, reaching for it and recognizing Ominis’s familiar handwriting.

Sebastian—meeting Evangeline for breakfast in the Undercroft. Join us if you’d like. O.

Sebastian shot out of bed, hurriedly pulling on his robes and running a hand through his hair, barely taking the time to check himself in the mirror. He froze for a moment, catching a glimpse of his disheveled appearance, and felt a pang of sudden insecurity. Would Evangeline think he looked alright? She’d always teased him about his tendency to appear slightly unkempt, and now he found himself adjusting his collar, feeling the weight of her imagined scrutiny more than he cared to admit. He forced himself to take a deep breath, pushing back his nerves, and then slipped out of the dormitory, heading toward the Undercroft with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

When he entered the hidden space, he found Evangeline and Ominis already seated, deep in conversation. They were huddled together, their heads close as they looked over a pair of letters. Their voices were soft, a hint of melancholy in their tones. Neither of them noticed him at first, so Sebastian took the brief moment to take her in, noticing the way the warm, dim light softened her features, lending her a certain gentleness.

Ominis was the first to look up, sensing his presence. “Sebastian,” he greeted, his voice calm but welcoming. “You made it.”

Evangeline glanced up as well, her expression shifting slightly as her gaze landed on him. He couldn’t tell if it was relief, hesitation, or perhaps something in between, but she offered him a small smile. “Good morning, Sebastian.”

“Good morning,” he replied, a little breathless from his haste. He quickly ran a hand through his hair again, trying to look casual. “I saw the note and… well, thought I’d join you.”

Evangeline nodded, her smile lingering as she motioned for him to sit. “We were just reading some of Anne’s recent letters. She… mentioned you.”

Sebastian’s heart gave a slight, painful twist. Anne had cut ties with him after everything that had happened. She’d requested privacy, preferring to keep in touch with Ominis and Evangeline instead. But to know she’d mentioned him, even briefly, was more than he’d expected.

He lowered himself onto the seat beside them, his gaze flicking between Evangeline and Ominis. “Really? What… what did she say?”

Evangeline glanced at Ominis before answering, a trace of hesitation in her eyes. “She’s… doing alright, all things considered. The healers at St. Mungo’s have been working with her regularly. She’s trying to focus on her recovery.”

Sebastian nodded, trying to keep his emotions in check, though he could feel the ache settling in his chest. He hadn’t known much about her treatment, only that she’d chosen to leave him out of it. “And… she mentioned me?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with both hope and apprehension.

Ominis nodded, his expression softening. “Yes. She… wondered how you were doing.” His words were careful, as though he was selecting each one with precision. “She didn’t say much, but it's clear she’s still thinking about you, Sebastian."

Sebastian swallowed, nodding again as he processed this. The rift between them had felt so permanent, so final, that even this small mention of him from her was a lifeline he hadn’t expected. “I… I’m glad she’s doing alright. Really, I am.”

Evangeline nodded, "They've entered Anne into a new study on pain reduction charms... so far the results are promising." He was surprised when she reached out, a reassuring touch on his arm. He met her gaze, his chest tightening at the kindness he saw there. It was such a stark contrast to the distant, weary expression she’d worn the day before, and it filled him with both gratitude and longing. She was right there, so close he could reach out and hold her hand, yet there was a chasm between them that he’d built with his own actions.

They fell into a soft silence, Evangeline’s hand lingering on his arm a moment longer before she pulled it away. He missed the warmth immediately, but he couldn’t complain; even this was more than he’d hoped for.

Ominis, sensing the shift in the room, cleared his throat and leaned back slightly. “Anne’s letters… they’re a good sign,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “She’s taking steps forward, and perhaps that will mean more for you, too, Sebastian.”

Evangeline and Ominis shared a brief, understanding glance before quietly sliding the letters across the table for Sebastian to read himself. He picked them up gently, his fingers brushing the parchment, and began scanning Anne’s familiar handwriting. His heart ached with every word, but there was a calmness here, too—a sense of normalcy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Once he finished, he set the letters back down, a faint but genuine smile playing at his lips. “She sounds… more like herself,” he murmured, relief evident in his voice. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen her like that.” He glanced between Evangeline and Ominis, feeling a gratitude that went beyond words.

Ominis nodded. “She’s slowly finding her way. It’s not easy, but she’s taking steps, thanks to some new treatment options.”

Sebastian tilted his head, curiosity sparking. “The study you mentioned… I’d never heard of it. When Solomon and I brought her to St. Mungo’s, they never said anything about specialized studies or pain reduction charms.” He glanced at Ominis, then Evangeline, his brow furrowing slightly. “How… how did she get into this program?”

Evangeline and Ominis exchanged a glance, as if silently weighing how much to say. Finally, Evangeline spoke, her tone gentle but firm. “We helped her get in,” she explained. “It’s… not exactly easy to access. The study is funded through private research, so only certain patients are allowed to participate.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Certain patients? So… it’s expensive?”

Ominis nodded, his expression serious. “Yes. It wasn’t covered by the usual care options, so… Evangeline and I pitched in to help her get into it.”

Sebastian’s gaze snapped between them, surprise and gratitude welling up within him. “You both… paid for her to get this treatment?”

Evangeline nodded, her expression modest. “It wasn’t just us, of course. Anne had a little saved up, and I… we just wanted to do something to help, after everything. She deserves a real chance at relief.”

Sebastian’s throat tightened, emotions swirling within him—gratitude, guilt, relief, and a deep sense of indebtedness to them both. He hadn’t been able to support Anne the way she deserved, and yet Evangeline and Ominis had stepped up, filling in the gaps he’d left.

“Thank you,” he managed, his voice rough with emotion. “I… I don’t know what to say. You both… you’ve done more for her than I could ever repay.”

Ominis shook his head, “We did it because we care about her. There’s no debt.”

The rest of breakfast proceeded with a surprising ease, conversation drifting to lighter topics as they shared quiet smiles and passing comments about their classes and friends. Sebastian felt himself relaxing, enjoying the near-normalcy that settled between them. There was a warmth here, a familiar rhythm that reminded him of mornings they’d shared in happier times.

Eventually, Ominis glanced at the clock and sighed, a trace of reluctance in his expression. “I’d better head to Alchemy,” he said, gathering his things. “I’ll leave you two to your own devices—don’t have too much fun without me.”

Evangeline let out a mock groan. “I still don’t understand how you tolerate that class, Ominis.”

Sebastian chuckled. “I agree. Alchemy is practically a crime against students.”

Ominis gave them both a faint smile, shaking his head as he stood. “You two are hopeless. Perhaps one day, you’ll see the brilliance of it.” With that, he gave them a quick nod and made his way out, leaving Sebastian and Evangeline alone in the Undercroft.

A surprisingly comfortable silence settled over them, and Sebastian found himself glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

He couldn’t help it—he always ended up watching her, captivated by the way the soft light caught in her hair or the quiet focus in her expression. Even now, in the dim light of the Undercroft, having woken up so early, she looked beautiful. That beauty felt both familiar and devastatingly new to him; every time he was with her, it was as though he were seeing her all over again.

But as he looked at her now, his admiration was tempered by worry. She was absently picking at a muffin, breaking it into tiny pieces on her plate but never actually taking a bite. Her eyes were distant, framed by faint shadows that hinted at restless nights, and he couldn’t ignore how loose her robes looked on her.

Taking a deep breath, Sebastian decided to break the silence. “Evie…” he began carefully, his tone as gentle as he could make it. “Are you alright?”

She glanced up, her expression unreadable as she met his gaze. She tried to smile, shrugging dismissively. “I’m fine, Sebastian. Just not that hungry.”

He frowned, leaning forward slightly, unwilling to let it go that easily. “Not that hungry?” he repeated softly, a small smile playing at his lips as he tried to keep his tone light. “You’ve told me a hundred times how much you love breakfast. You practically count down the hours between dinner and breakfast.”

A hint of a real smile tugged at her lips, but it faded quickly, and she returned her gaze to her plate. "Yes, well... I suppose I just don't have an appetite today."

Sebastian hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, didn’t want her to feel scrutinized under his gaze, even though he couldn’t help but notice the changes in her. For as long as he could remember, Evangeline’s presence had been one of warmth and fullness, her figure soft and steady, a quiet strength he’d grown to admire and—though he’d never admit it aloud—appreciate in ways that stirred certain feelings he’d never meant to develop. And yet now, her movements weighed down by something he couldn’t quite see but could feel all too clearly.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice softening as he treaded carefully, “but… this seems like more than just not being hungry.” He could feel a blush creeping up his neck, but he pushed forward, lowering his gaze to spare them both from his own embarrassment. “It’s… obvious this has been going on for a while. Your clothes don’t… they look a little different on you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away, her discomfort evident. “It’s nothing, Sebastian,” she insisted, her voice quiet but firm. “Really. I’m fine.”

He knew she wanted him to drop it, but he couldn’t ignore the weight that had settled over her. He’d never seen her like this—so guarded, so intent on putting up a wall between them. And he hated that he’d let things get to this point, where she felt she had to face everything alone.

“Evie,” he said gently, "Please don't lie to me."

Sebastian’s quiet plea hung between them, and for a long, tense moment, Evangeline kept her gaze firmly on her plate, her fingers fidgeting with a stray crumb as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. He could see the struggle in her posture, the way her shoulders tensed, how her jaw set as if to hold back words she’d rather keep hidden.

She took a deep breath, her fingers going still on the table. Finally, she looked up, meeting his eyes with a hesitant, almost pained expression. “I… I don’t know where to start,” she murmured, her voice trembling with the weight of her unspoken thoughts.

"Then... start with whatever feels right,” he offered gently.

Her lips pressed together as she seemed to wrestle with what to say. When she finally spoke, her voice was guarded, almost evasive. “I guess… with everything that’s happened, I haven’t exactly… taken the best care of myself. It’s been hard to find the energy for things I used to care about.”

Sebastian’s eyes softened, but he didn’t respond right away, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying. He simply nodded, encouraging her to go on.

Her fingers twisted in her lap as she glanced away, “And I keep thinking… maybe if I’d been better, if I’d done something differently… maybe Professor Fig would still be here.” She swallowed hard, her voice dropping to barely a whisper. “It’s like I… failed him. And I can’t shake the feeling that maybe I’m just… not enough. Not good enough. Not the right kind of person to have made a difference.”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing as she glanced at him, as if she were about to reveal something she’d never shared with anyone. “I know it sounds silly, but… it’s hard not to feel like… maybe it’s me. Like… maybe if I were different, better somehow, things would have turned out differently.”

Her gaze dropped, and she looked down, a shadow of something deeply vulnerable crossing her features. “And sometimes, it’s just… I see other girls—Cressida, Violet, girls who seem to have everything put together, who are tall and thin and look… perfect. And I… I’ve never been that way. I’ve always been… well, I mean, you know. You heard what Darian said yesterday about my size,” Her voice grew smaller with each word, her cheeks brightening in embarrassment. “And I guess I just feel like… like maybe I don’t deserve to… to take up that much space. I know it’s stupid, but I….” She trailed off, her voice thick with embarrassment, and glanced away as though she wanted to hide. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this. It’s… it’s silly.”

Her words hit him harder than he could have expected, each one revealing a side of her he’d never seen, a vulnerability she’d never shared with him before. It stunned him to think that she, who had always seemed so steady, so sure of herself, carried insecurities this deep. He’d never imagined she’d compare herself to others like that. The idea of her, quietly measuring herself against someone like Cressida or any of the girls, seemed absurd to him. And he was struck by the irony, because in his eyes, she was perfect exactly as she was.

But now, facing her, he found himself torn, struggling to find the right words. The thought of her feeling inadequate, feeling somehow less-than, made him want to pull her into his arms and erase every doubt. He wanted her to know that she was the standard, in his eyes—she was everything he wanted, just as she was. He wanted to tell her how much he adored her body, how the softness of her figure was something he secretly cherished, something that made him look at her and think about her in ways he didn’t dare admit.

Yet, he knew he couldn’t say any of that. His feelings for her were a secret he’d kept carefully guarded. Revealing any of it would complicate things, might even push her away, and he couldn’t bear that risk. He wanted to help her, to be there for her as a friend, to ease her worries without crossing the lines that would betray his own heart. So, he chose his words carefully, hoping they would convey even a fraction of what he felt.

He took a breath, his voice soft but steady. “Evie… What happened with Fig isn't on you. I've heard the story of that night a hundred times and you did everything humanly possible to keep the school, and everyone inside it, safe." He paused, his gaze gentle, trying to convey the sincerity behind his words. "And… you might not see it, but you’re… you’ve always been more than enough. I’ve never thought you should be anything other than who you are.”

He could see her cheeks redden, her gaze dropping to her hands as though she wasn’t sure whether to believe him. She took a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sebastian… I appreciate you saying that, really, but… you don’t have to.” She hesitated, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I mean, we’re friends, and you’re… well, you’re just being kind.”

He could feel the blush heating his own cheeks, but he held her gaze, not willing to let her dismiss what he was saying. “I’m not just saying it to be nice,” he insisted, his voice laced with a quiet urgency. “I mean it."

Evangeline looked up at him, her lips curving into a small, tentative smile. There was a new softness in her eyes, a warmth that hadn’t been there before, and it filled him with a bittersweet satisfaction. Even if she couldn’t see herself the way he did, at least maybe she was starting to believe him.

Still, a part of him wanted to say more, to tell her how wildly attracted to her he was, that no one else had ever made him feel the way she did. But he knew that line was one he wasn’t ready to cross—not yet, and perhaps not ever. So he settled for the silence that fell between them, a silence that was surprisingly comfortable, laced with a quiet understanding.

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a pretty decent listener when you actually try?" Evangeline said at length, a hesitant smirk pulling on her cheeks.

Sebastian’s lips curved into a smile, his heart warming at the gentle teasing in her tone. “Well,” he replied, a playful spark in his eyes, “you’re the only one I’d really go to the trouble for. And maybe Ominis."

Evangeline’s smirk softened into something genuine, and she raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that makes me special.”

“Very special,” he said quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop himself. He felt his cheeks flush, but if she noticed, she didn't let on.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” she murmured, and Sebastian could see a glimmer of something vulnerable in her eyes—a quiet gratitude that made his heart ache in the best way.

The silence that settled between them felt warm and strangely intimate, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like they were nearly back to the closeness they’d had before everything became complicated.

Sebastian cleared his throat, breaking the silence with a playful grin. "So... maybe you’ll actually eat that muffin instead of shredding it into a million tiny pieces?”

Evangeline looked down at her plate, realizing that she’d been absentmindedly tearing the muffin into a pile of crumbs. Her cheeks flushed as she let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “I suppose I’ve been caught,” she admitted, brushing a few crumbs off her fingers. “Fine, I’ll actually eat it. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he teased, his grin widening. “I don’t want to have to give that muffin a proper burial. Besides, you’ve got to keep your strength up. Who else is going to keep Ominis and me out of trouble?”

She let out a genuine laugh, the sound light and warm, and for a moment, it was as though all the heaviness that had been weighing her down had lifted. She broke off a piece of the muffin, actually taking a bite this time, and rolled her eyes as she chewed.

“There,” she said after swallowing, giving him a mock glare. “Satisfied?”

“Very,” he replied, still smiling, his gaze lingering on her a little longer than he meant to.

It was a simple thing, sharing a laugh over a muffin, but it felt like a quiet victory—a small, comforting reminder that some things between them hadn’t changed.

As they both finished up and stood to leave, Sebastian felt the lingering warmth of her laughter echoing in his chest, the kind of warmth that made him feel a little closer to her than he had in months. With a final smile, he said, “So... are we going to share a bench in Potions?"

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with a hint of a smirk. “I suppose I could allow it. But only if you promise not to set anything on fire this year.”

Sebastian feigned a look of mock offense, placing a hand over his heart. “That was one time, Evie! And it was Garreth’s fault. You know how dangerous his ‘improvements’ can be.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile remained, softer now, as though she was savoring the exchange as much as he was. “Alright, Sallow,” she replied, pretending to consider it. “But you’re on thin ice. One more potion mishap, and you’ll have to find someone else’s bench to singe.”

He laughed, feeling a lightness he hadn’t felt in ages, a sense of ease that had seemed impossible before now. “Deal,” he said, holding out his hand as if to seal their agreement. She looked at his outstretched hand, and after a brief, amused hesitation, she took it, giving it a quick, firm shake before releasing it, her eyes twinkling.

They lingered for a second longer, the air between them filled with something warm and unspoken, a quiet acknowledgment of what their friendship had weathered and what it still meant. As they left the Undercroft side by side, he couldn’t help but think that the wall between them had grown a little thinner, that somehow, they’d found a way to share in each other’s lives again.

“Alright, then,” he said, unable to resist one last tease. “Try not to miss me too much between now and Potions.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder, her smirk resurfacing. “Don’t flatter yourself, Sallow.”

But as she walked away, he saw a genuine smile on her face, and his own smile lingered, carrying him all the way to class.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Soldier Queen (Post-Galbatorix death short, to be rewritten later)

(A/N: Who the fuck brings a crown with them when they're leading an invasion?? Orrin, probably.

This will be rewritten once I get that other story I've been muttering about finished so the flow and characterization is maintained from that. Also, no, I am not going back to check Inheritance to see who was at that meeting and what went down. I'm on a canon chewing fest. aka I chew the book if it gets too close!)

~~~

SOLDIER QUEEN

“I heard Queen Islanzadí was badly injured.” Orik braced his hands on the table, the chest he stood on creaking slightly. “Is she–?”

Arya tucked her scorched helmet under her arm, looking oddly uncomfortable. “No. No, she is alive.” She shifted again, finally settling on placing the headpiece on the table in front of her. “Islanzadí is alive, but she is incapacitated for the time being. The healers have placed her in a coma for the next few days.” 

Eragon noticed that the pack strapped to her back was effectively bolted to her armor, moving with her as she shuffled her feet and looked down at the map. He knew without a doubt that the rescued egg was inside the bag, the woman’s arm flickering for the briefest moment as she moved faster than he could see to touch the clamped strap at her shoulder. 

Orrin barely disguised his disgruntled huff into his goblet as a half hearted cough. “And we are to simply take your word as hers, ambassador? Yet again.” The room dropped a few degrees as the Surdan king put his wine down. “This is a meeting of leaders and monarchs. Lord Daethdr–”

“Is a member of the Lords of House and an advisor, not a monarch.” Arya cut Orrin off. All heads snapped around at the change in her voice. That was unusual. That was not the voice she used when interjecting about military strategy. That was entirely different sound of power, far harsher, far hotter. 

This? This was cold. This was porcelain coated steel brick, immovable and lacking any hand or footholds to any who would try to subvert it. 

Outside, Saphira shuffled her wings, pleased at the elf’s quick grasp of control. ‘She’s taking to this very well.’

‘Taken to what? Are you two hiding something from me again?’

“Lord Däthedr was Islanzadí’s right hand.” Orrin sputtered. “Is he not the second in line to–”

Bright emerald fire killed Orrin’s words in his throat as Arya locked eyes with the petulant monarch. “Lord Däthedr has informed me that Queen Islanzadí’s living will states that should she be killed or incapacitated in this battle then the title of Queen Regent transfers to me, effective immediately.” The settle into an open stanced at ease, arms behind her back, seemed more habit than anything. Yet in that moment, Eragon found it to exude a power he was not accustomed to feeling rolling off his mate. “As of approximately thirty minutes ago, I have accepted my position and now hold title of Keeper of the Knotted Throne. In everything but literal name, I am queen of the elven nation.”

The room was deadly silent. 

Orik cleared his throat. “Well. I’ll be the first to say congratulations, Arya. Even though I know the role isn’t quite what you enjoy, I know you’ll fill it well.” He cleared his throat again. “That being said, I’m not quite sure how this is proven, considering King Orrin’s insistence. The object of power, like mine helm and hammer, is the Knotted Throne itself, is it not? Do you have any paper or missive from the Queen or Däthedr to prove your new station?” 

Eragon bit his tongue. Orik was simply diffusing the situation as best he could. Orrin would not back down, that was certain, so if Arya had any way to put it to rest….

“Ah.” Arya looked down once more. “That is correct, King Orik. Our object of monarchy is the throne itself, but…” A spark seemed to ignite in the elf’s eyes. “We do have another, more recent one. Begun in my father’s time as king.”

And at that, Arya unzipped her heavy combat coat and lifted the left side. “If you would, please?”

A white head appeared from one of the large pockets lining the inside of the garment. Eragon further bit his tongue, Saphira’s mental laughter peeling in his brain, as his mate reached in and pulled a somewhat ruffled, somewhat still asleep Blagden from her coat. Bleary eyed, the white raven flailed his talons about until he found Arya’s offered wrist and then transferred to her shoulder.

“This is Blagden. He is a very sentient and very special raven that once saved Evandar’s life, and was gifted with limited clairvoyance, true consciousness, and immortal life in repayment.”

At mention of his gifts, Blagden shook himself awake and spread his wings to their full extent. For the briefest of moments, haloed by golden, dust laden sunlight and framed by the resplendent wings of white and bloodstained red, Eragon saw Arya as what she was in that moment. Every bit a warrior queen, trapped halfway between soldier and monarch. 

And then she reached up and smoothed the ruffled feathers at Blagden’s forehead, and Arya was simply…Arya again. His mate. The woman he loved and the woman who loved him. Tired and bloodsplattered and armored and suffering through this horribly necessary meeting like all the rest. 

“Blagden has become an advisor to the elven throne. As King Orik, Eragon, Saphira and Brom can all attest, he does not perch on anyone beyond that who rules the elves.” 

Garzvog stared. To be fair, most of the gathered leaders did.

“...That is a bird.” The Kull finally stated.

Arya nodded solemnly. “He is a cranky bird.”

[lamialamia]

hai!!! are there any sledgefu fanfics or writers u could rec to me?

Anon I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this. I was swamped with exams and deadlines and traveling. But gosh. I GOT CHU. I got recs!!!

This got insanely long so I'm putting a read more

Fanfic - Canon-verse (no AU)

Sleep Aid by someonesgrlbomb. Gosh. Okay. We all know the weird, fucked up bond between Sledge and Snafu is so interesting. They are traumatized young men who are wrestling with their humanity in hellish conditions. And this fic is one amazing look into this bond.

C’est ta main dans ma main doucement oubliée. by ijustlookatpictures. This one is heartbreaking. Not healthy in the slightest. But if you want to be devastated, this fic is for you.

I do my best because I'm counting on you counting on me by ijustlookatpictures. A groundhog day AU set in the war so I still put it here. I love this fic for its Snafu's voice. Trust me, Snafu is a tough character to write for because he is a layered bastard who has so much going for him. I re-read this fic like once every few months.

As It Was by SJtrinity. Possibly one of the best post-war fics for sledgefu out there. This fic might be formatted a little weird on Ao3 but trust me, it's worth it. Sledge and Snafu's road to a happy endings isn't easy or simple and this fic makes them earn their happy endings (even after surviving a war). READ THIS FIC PLEASE. I'M ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU.

i’m the diode, you’re the kerosene by getmean. This imo is one of the required reading sledgefu fics. I mean, I would say that about any of getmean's fic but yeah. Realistic about PTSD but so perfectly balance with the slow-burn romance we all crave. Simply magnificent.

an angel like a memory by starblessed. Another incredible fic that nailed Snafu's voice.

gone but not entirely by marinersapptcomplex. Angst for the ages. Sledgefu is treasure trove of angst and in the right hand, it would fuck you up. Because this fic fucked me up. It's so good and deserve thousand of kudos.

The Boy and the Magpie by harin91. Oh this is a special sledgefu fic. It moved me to tears. It showed but never told. It got me craving for all the pretty jewels and lost loves and fairy-tale dreamings one could possibly have. If I think about this fic too much I might lost it.

Come Take Me Home Again by ThrillingDetectiveTales. Ehehhe, very sexy and very cute and made me giggle every time I re-read this.

Let Me Know The Way by bearkare. Epistolary story telling is no small task to pull off. Something which was done here so good it felt like I actually get to step into the characters' heads and dive into their inner turmoil. Another fic that takes the slow road to Sledgefu's happy ending. Love every word of this.

a collection of fragmented thoughts that were never written and never sent by canimo. Underrated. So fucking underrated. All the angst, and well, sledgefu have a tendency in many fic to not end happily at all. They are after all two very different people and with everything that happened, no matter how much love they might share, it isn't easy.

I Was Fixed on Your Hand of Gold by Cinderscream. Another epistolary fic that amazed me with the ease of how they manage to make story unfold within the limited confinement of letter writing. Love this one to bits.

friends who share your past by kinnoth. Once in a while, you had to let your OTP be toxic and unhealthy and unable to communicate and lead them to their downfall. Yeah.

fill in the holes you've made by foreignconstellations. Relationships are complicated. This one managed to capture that in just 2.5k words, which I absolutely can not comprehend.

Sweet Water, Wash Me Down by modernature. Atmospheric and very gripping. Amazing world building where the world felt alive and wriggling and squirming in the best possible way.

Leave your baggage here by malmanagement. Sometimes, we needed a groundhog day AU to make stubborn idiots understands.

Fanfic - AU:

got a fire but you just can't use it by getmean. I binged this instead of sleeping. Worth it.

catch it down in new orleans by starblessed. This is one of my comfort fics of all time. It's so funny and so charming. Never failed to lift me out of a bad mood.

Unknown Number by harin91. In which our favorite idiots tried long distance and it is endlessly entertaining.

lest we fall into the dark by gingerwerk. Oh everything about this AU is incredible. The slowburn is so good I wish I can lost my memory to read this again completely fresh.

Oh! Darling by Anonymous. I waited years for this fic to finally finish. I screamed when I saw the final update. Sexy and lovely. Can not recommend this fic enough.

Author:

getmean. Well you can't mention sledgefu without this author. No matter what their fics deliver. I aspire to write as good as them one day.

SJtrinity. I don't know what to say about this author because... my english could never measure my awe and love for their works

starblessed. You saw how many times I rec their fics? Yeah. Read everything this author write please.

Stolperzunge. I love them and their works. I could write a love letter here but I don't wanna be cringe.

bearkare. ANything written by this author made me feral <3 <3 <3

Honorable mention: eugeneshelton whose sledgefu fics gave me diabetes, and endlessly inspire me with his sledgefu ideas :*

[inquisitornocturn]

≪─ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ: ᴄʜ. 3 - ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ─≫

⋟ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Sebastian LaCroix/f!reader the Ventrue neonate

⋟ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: y/n etc is not used, rating - M, POV second person, arguing, canon-typical violence, hurt/sort of comfort, praise kink.

⋟ 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: From climbing the corporate ladder to being told you need to feast on human blood - this is your new life, Fledgling. The world has changed for you so drastically, you know you will need time to adjust and your new so called "boss" is not making it easy. He's sending you on tasks that feel like they were designed to get you killed. It makes you furious: at Sebastian, at your vampirism, at your lowly position in this brand new society you just stepped into. Still, LaCroix is just the type to get under your skin with ease, and he does it well. Too well. You are not too sure if you can resist his pull.

⋟ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3,265

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i remember being nervous when writing this chapter haha, now i write bigger things than just a slap to the face. anyway, enjoy♡~

⋟ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: [link]

It took you days to sort things out and eventually make it to Elizabeth Dane. You cannot lie even to yourself about it - it was the most difficult thing you had to do, ever, alive or dead. But you managed to do it and gather the information that Prince required. One thing you didn’t do though. You ended up feeling too worked up to check that important email so even when you went to your haven you skipped checking the computer. You know it was irresponsible but what’s done is done. You just hope that the punishment for ignoring the email won’t be too harsh and you absolutely know for a fact that Sebastian will want to punish you for not prioritizing him.

However, now that you returned from Elizabeth Dane you can’t just ignore the email and pretend it will bite you if you touch the computer mouse. First you sleep, then freshen up, put on clean clothes. Your fridge is stocked with blood at last so you take a bag like you would take a morning coffee and sit by the laptop while radio is humming in the kitchen; night show is on again but you pay it no mind.

You hover, you click, you enter your ironic password. ‘Sunrise’ hmpf, it’s like Sebastian wants you dead before even giving you a decent chance to prove your worth. 4 unread messages greet you and two of them from LaCroix. Third message is a dick enlargement pill ad which you smile at. And the last one comes with a title ‘Something to discuss’. You pause thinking which email you should read first - Lacroix’s or a mysterious stranger’s but you decide that Prince requires faster attention.

His first message is about a lost vile of blood, that of a werewolf, you are being asked to retrieve it before it gets tested. Thankfully you’re in time because the email was sent just an hour ago. The other one is the email he sent you on the night you oh so pleasantly felt his lips on yours. Its title is ‘Movie night’ and when you click on it you see a short message: Tell me the time, I’m telling the place - Nocturne Theater. - SL

That’s it, that’s the message. If you could sweat you would be absolutely sweating right now. It’s been almost a week since you saw Sebastian and you only now saw the message that you assume you had to reply to pretty much immediately, the moment you got back to Santa Monica.

“Alright, let’s do this.” You say to yourself out loud, trying to convince yourself that you’re not stressed but you don’t know what to do. Do you set a date and then go meet Sebastian about Elizabeth Dane or do you do that first and then set the date after you report your findings?

You mull over this dilemma for another 20 minutes before you decide. You’ll send an email, then go see him and report like a good little foot soldier that he wants you to be but you only pretend to be, then you’ll meet him later. You just hope that he won’t reject your time because you are not going to be able to check your email before set time which you decide to make today as well. Then again, if Nocturne Theater is closed and nobody lets you in - you’ll have your answer.

It is settled then - you assure yourself and type out the time, click send and stare at your screen feeling like you just went through something worse emotionally than the whole ordeal at Elizabeth Dane. Then your eyes catch emboldened last email that you haven’t read.

‘Something to discuss’

Huh, is that so - you think and click on the message. It reads:

From: a good friend

Message: ask your prissy boyfriend about Jeanette and her love stick. thank me later.

“What the fuck.” You breathe out and reread the message several times. What does Jeanette have to do with LaCroix? And you can very well guess what her love stick means. You already heard rumors about her taste for flesh pleasures and while you cannot blame her for that, her particular tastes are not for you to share.

But does Sebastian have a history with Jeanette? You almost feel like a Brujah when you start feeling jealous before you can get a grip on your emotions. Of course you know that LaCroix lived centuries before you were even born, you know that vampires, yourself included, can use The Blush of Life Discipline to feel human again in all the ways it matters but still, you feel like you and only you are entitled to Sebastian’s most private moments like that, no matter how nonsensical it sounds to your logical mind.

To stop your mind from spiraling, you exit the email and get off the chair, your blood bag left empty on this tiny desk. You’ll think about it when it matters, not right now. In the end, the so called good friend was right - it is something to discuss, something to ask Sebastian about and you already know that rising this kind of question will get LaCroix pissed off beyond belief, but you also have to know. You just have to, because your respect for him depends on it.

How you see him as a man depends on it. But first, you have to deal with that blood vile.

Standing at the Venture Tower once more you find yourself unable to move. The cab dropped you off but you’re still not going in. What’s awaiting you there? You are burning to see Sebastian again, but at the same you are anxious about how the conversation will go. You also not surprisingly find yourself to be angry about several things and have a need to address them. The meeting you’re going to have is on your mind too. You assume LaCroix will act as his normal, usual authoritarian self during this meeting, but what awaits you during the scheduled, more personal one? Will you get punished if you say something out of the line right now? You still have the defiant desire to not give in, to be angry, to be upset, but at the same time you have this pull to submit as well, to do everything he wants you to do so that you can experience again that intimate affection he showed you before. And at this point you don’t know which emotions are yours and which ones are dictated by whatever he did to you that night, when he shared his blood with you.

With a nervous sigh you at last start walking because you realize you stood in front of the Tower long enough for it to be considered suspicious. You go through your usual motions, you flirt with the guard because he amuses you, then you go to the elevator, press the button, get to LaCroix’s Penthouse and knock. A velvety invitation sounds from the inside and you open the door. Sebastian is sitting in his chair seeing no need to stand up to greet you, how typical of him; Sheriff is at his side as usual.

“I presume I have a reason to celebrate?” He smiles and you see his fangs again. Despite being a vampire yourself you feel extremely attracted to the sight of Sebastian like that, a true predator in kine’s skin.

Making him happy is the best drug for you, you realize, at least while you’re standing in front of him and get enchanted by his sole presence. Get a grip - you scold yourself harshly and it actually works. Therefore his charm gets overpowered by your recent experiences on Elizabeth Dane and your irritation by being his errand girl. Not to mention that other burning topic that’s on your mind.

“Yes, I’ve got what you wanted.” You step to his desk and he reaches out with his hand to take the ship log he requested but in a moment of defiance you roughly toss it on his desk. It skids a little over his other documents and stops creating deafening silence. This wipes smile off LaCroix’s face so fast that for a moment you doubt it was there to begin with.

He angrily looks at you but says nothing as he picks up the documents and flips through them in silence. When he’s done he puts them on his desk and leans back in his seat, looking at you. The silence remains and you frown.

“What are you staring at.” You say more than ask, feeling almost like a thug but you want to show him that he cannot charm you with just his smile and Sebastian cocks an angry eyebrow at you.

“I would like to remind you who you are talking to, neonate. For someone who nearly failed the assignment on Elizabeth Dane you’re acting way too full of yourself for your own good.” His voice is calm, calculated, measured. Dangerous. You’re on thin ice and you can feel it in your bones. Yet that infuriates you even more. What right he has to put you down?

“Failed? Failed?” you grind your teeth and inhale. “I didn’t fail, I got your fucking documents right there!” You point at them but LaCroix is looking at you, still calmly, his expression not changing, his hands on the desk with fingers intertwined. Something about him today feels off, usually his thin veneer of politeness slips the moment you disrespect him in any way.

“Yes, you did but there also have been reported three deaths on the ship. I told you, if you would be so kind to remember, that I asked you to not kill. But for someone with a temper of a Brujah I’m not surprised.” Here it is, his smirk.

You realize what’s going on - for some reason he’s trying to provoke you, make you angrier. Why? Is this his way to make you overstep the ultimate line and get Sheriff kill you on spot? Yet your mind is too clouded to think straight and to stop dancing by his tune. You know you’re in danger and you don’t care.

“Don’t patronize me for something you were too scared to do yourself.” You shoot back and you finally see the mask slip, the smile is gone from his face once more but now you see anger as his eyebrows furrow.

“Scared?” Prince’s voice is low, saturated with rising rage. “Why would I need to do anything when I have you do tasks that are bellow me?” he stands up, puts hands in his pockets and turns his back to you. “I’ll remind you that your entire existence depends on me. You keep defying me and being arrogant when all you have to do is listen and obey.”

“I don’t want to obey, let’s make that clear! I didn’t choose this fucking life, okay? I’m tired of running your little errands and doing your little tasks! Surely you have more competent underlings if I’m such a disappointment to you!” You raise your voice against your own wish but your emotions are running high tonight. You wouldn’t consider yourself an angry person but you sure have enough pride to not back down even in front of the Prince.

Sebastian scoffs and turns to look at you, his little annoying smirk back on his lips, infuriating you even more, but you just keep staring at him, waiting for him to say something. Instead of doing that he walks towards you, then stops a little bit to your side, watching your face, watching your eyes specifically. He opens his mouth, inhales to speak but you have a sudden urge to just spill what’s in your head:

“At least I don’t let Jeanette fuck me like a little bitch.” You spit your words like they’re venom, it’s vulgar too and LaCroix’s face freezes.

The moment stretches painfully long but it can’t be more than half a second before Sebastian backhands you so hard across the face that you stumble backwards and fold to your knees. Everything spins as you reach to your cheek and taste blood in your mouth. When your vision stops swimming you glance at LaCroix from under your eyebrows and see him fixing his tie, your blood on his knuckles. He exhales, watching you with all the vampiric pride in the world.

“I told you to be careful about how you speak to me.” He remarks and glances at his knuckles then takes out a white napkin and starts wiping them. “If I have to put you in your place like a rabid dog - I will. But only for so long, Childe. You either will learn to obey or you will be... dealt with.” He finishes and you know exactly what this means.

“Fine.” You grunt and lick blood off your bottom lip, then stand up grabbing Sebastian’s desk for support.

When you straighten out and look at him again Sebastian tilts his head to the side like he’s seeing something on your face, then proceeds to come closer. With the same napkin he cleaned his hand, he reaches out and starts rubbing your throbbing cheek. The pain is already going away, but when he presses the napkin against your skin your face still feels on fire. You don’t move or acknowledge his touch, staring at him bitterly.

“Oh don’t sulk now, you knew what will happen if you don’t measure your words.” He says calmly with his gaze on your cheek and not your eyes. “Are you jealous?” the question is more silent than his usual tone and you turn your eyes away from him, not wanting to answer. “Are you jealous because I possibly had a liaison with the Voerman girl?”

“No, why would I be.” You answer silently, you feel the napkin leave your cheek.

“Interesting, here I thought you would.” You can actually hear a smile in his voice even though you don’t see Sebastian’s face. “But-” you hear him put the napkin in his pocket. ”-to put your mind at ease, I can assure you that no, I have never had any personal relations with either of the Voerman sisters. I work with Therese, I saw Jeanette once. Neither of them are very interesting to me, truth to be told. And trusting anything Jeanette says is sometimes funny, but mostly dangerous. Malkavians are a strange breed, they like to... exaggerate or even lie.” A sound of Sebastian brushing his shoulders from dust. “Are you satisfied?”

“Why would I care.” You murmur not wanting to continue this conversation.

You’re still mad about being hit, sore in ways that are not physical and you realize how dumb it was for you to even bring up the Jeanette rumor, you shouldn’t care, you’re just a pawn to Prince anyway. You feel like crawling back into your bed and sleeping for three days straight.

“Childe, look at me.” A soft tone, softer than you ever heard Sebastian sound like and the pull of your new title makes you do as he wishes.

You turn your face to him and almost feel like crying, which is surprising because you were always good at hiding your emotions. Your position at the company required you to do so, but somehow Sebastian manages to pull the most vulnerable you out in the open. He immediately can see that you’re hurt and he sighs.

“Come on now, you’re better than this. You’re a ventrue after all.” The words do not sound comforting at all.

“Yes, I know.” You say in a whisper and try your best not to start crying. You can’t even articulate in your own mind how bad it would be if you started crying right now.

“Don’t let anyone see you so vulnerable, Childe. You can share your weaknesses only with those you trust.” Sebastian’s voice is almost comforting, you don’t know how to deal with this side of him. Does he feel bad for hitting you? It absolutely sounds like he does but it’s also like he cannot say or show it because there’s Sheriff there, seeing and hearing everything.

“It’s fine, I deserved that for disrespecting you.” You respond and you mean it.

You regret it and you wonder what happened to you that you cannot even bring up a simple rumor anymore without sounding like uneducated mongrel. You feel like you needed to be snapped out of whatever head-space you found yourself in just moments ago, and while getting hit isn’t what you would otherwise prefer you also know that in moments of anger Sebastian is not a man of words. You know that you are like that too, so you find it difficult within yourself to blame him or judge him. Physical retaliation to disrespect in circles you were moving is more common than people think.

“You do. But I know you’ll learn from this. I like my subjects tame, more obedient.” Last word drips off his lips syrup-like. What is he implying here? But you dare not to look at him, trying to calm your emotions before they spill again. “There there now.” Sebastian says patiently and you realize he took your silence as shock.

You feel his fingers on your chin, turning your face to him again, the trusty napkin once more out of his pocket and on your skin, wiping what you assume to be last bits of blood from the hit you received. You don’t look at him while he does that and when he’s done, LaCroix softly steps back withdrawing his fingers. You notice that the napkin is quite dirty with your blood.

“I’ll clean that for you.” You begin and reach out for it but he very casually yet quickly folds it and stuffs it in his jacket pocket.

“That’s alright.” He reassures you and you sigh, feeling exhausted and not willing to fight him anymore.

“Since I’m done with Elizabeth Dane, what else do you need me to do?” You ask, not looking Prince in the eyes but somewhere towards the middle of his tie, you’re too tired to even show your pride.

“You already have a task.” He replies somewhat curiously, like he’s mildly surprised you have forgotten. Forgotten what? You rack your brain trying to remember. It suddenly clicks and you hope you’re correct.

“M-movie night?” You attempt, stumbling over your letters because the assumption that he still wants to meet you privately after all of this is incomprehensible in this moment.

Sebastian smiles the most wonderful fangy smile that almost literally invigorates you on the spot.

“That’s my good girl.” He says and suddenly you feel like you could float off the floor. God his words have more power over you than you dare to admit. “Yes. I read the email. I’ll be there.”

With that he turns from you and walks back to his side of the desk, glancing at the ship log still lying askew on his papers.

“You can go now.” His voice is casual but you don’t care, you now know exactly why he’s acting the way he is. Without a nod or a word you leave and when you hear his Penthouse Office door close behind you you inhale, then very slowly exhale.

This man is messing with your head so badly and you know it. But you are sure of one thing - you will absolutely make things clear with Sebastian at Nocturne Theater one way or another.

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Author: norahastuff

Artist: Logan

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Length: 27000

Warnings: undefined

Tags: Canon compliant (more or less) Takes place during season 4 and 5 Grace Healing Dreamwalking Late night conversations A whole lot of beach talk

Posting Date: October 6, 2023

Summary: It's the end of the world, and neither Dean nor Castiel is feeling particularly fine. But while the world is still spinning, they have to find a way to keep living in it. The Apocalypse may not seem like the best time to forge a bond, but if some small measure of happiness can be found amidst all the pain and uncertainty that surrounds them, that can only be a good thing. And maybe sometimes good things do happen.

Excerpt: Dean seemed remarkably at ease, the relaxed lines of his body oddly distracting sprawled across the chair. “You sound like you disagree.” Castiel shrugged. “Sam knows you better than I do.” “In some ways. Come on, Cas, let’s not pretend. You get me.” His tone was light, but Castiel knew he was serious. He was aware he connected with Dean on a level that he couldn’t quite make sense of. Yes, Dean understood him, but he understood Dean too. While he’d been hesitant before to contradict Sam on his brother’s deepest desires, Dean had asked. Castiel met his gaze. “That life… It’s what you think you should want.” “Yeah,” Dean said, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands behind his head. “That’s where I landed with that whole thing too. Sam’s not wrong, if things were different, Lisa and I… maybe we could make it work. But they’re not. Even if we save the world, I’ll still be me. And I mean, I don’t actually know her all that well, anyway. We might end up hating each other if we try to give it a go for real.” Dean shrugged. “White picket fences sound good in theory, but really, I don’t think I’m the Mr. Suburbia type. Hawaii and Springsteen, though? That sounds like my kinda thing.” “I thought you didn’t like to fly?”  Dean waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll take a bucket of Valium. Or we can charter a yacht. I’ve always wanted to go on a yacht.” “Well, my most recent experience on a boat wasn’t particularly enjoyable.” Since he was exiled from Heaven, he hadn’t known where he was going to wind up when he’d activated the banishing sigil he’d carved into his chest. A shrimping boat off the coast of Delacroix wouldn’t have been his first guess. “Big difference between fishing trawlers and luxury yachts, buddy. Come on, me, you... maybe Sam. He’s not much of a beach guy, but we’ll give it a shot. Might have to max out a few credit cards to make it work, but fuck it, right?” Dean’s eyes sparkled from something more than the alcohol. There was a vibrancy, something unquantifiable Castiel couldn’t put a name to. He was so emphatically alive, and Castiel didn’t care anymore whether they won or lost. Everything he had done had been worth it. Every additional second that Dean’s light burned in this godforsaken universe made it worth it.  Dean had balked when Castiel had compared him to Helen of Troy. Had claimed no one would ever go to war over him. Castiel had almost laughed at the absurdity. Helen may have summoned a nation to arms, but Dean could bring this universe to his knees if he tried. Castiel was suddenly glad he’d never had any real power to speak of. He wasn’t sure how far he’d go in service of protecting Dean, of preserving his happiness if he had the ability. He’d burn it all down if he had to.

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

[idabbleincrazy]

We Make Our Own Destiny ~ Ageless

Fandom: Smallville

Rating: T (E overall)

Pairing: Clark Kent/Lex Luthor

Characters: Clark Kent, Lex Luthor, Lana Lang, Chloe Sullivan, Martha Kent, Jonathan Kent, Evan Sutherland, Lionel Luthor, Genevieve Teague

Word Count: 3420

Warnings: angst, light fluff, episode rewrite, Lex would have made a great father or big brother

Summary: Clark and Lex bond with the baby. Lana finds out about their new relationship. Evan gets his name, and has a growth spurt. And Chloe's just confused.

A/N: Lana finding out this early was unplanned, but ultimately should be helpful in guiding her character into a better plotline than canon gave her.

Chapter Two:

Clark walked down the bustling hallway towards the Torch office, where he could hear Chloe and Lana talking. He struggled to keep the grin he knew was on his face to a low wattage, memories of last night’s babysitting escapade at the forefront of his mind.

“I found an arrowhead in Evans Field once, but never a baby in a crater.” Chloe shuffles some papers around and then heads over to the coffee maker, pouring the strong brew into two mugs. 

“It's really weird. But what's even weirder is the way the boys are with him.”

Chloe hands one of the mugs to Lana. “Let me guess, they’re completely baby-phobic.”

“Actually, exactly the opposite. I thought for sure that Lex would run screaming at the first diaper change, but it was amazing.” Lana beams, her face scrunching up happily at the remembrance. “You should see the look in his eyes when he's holding that baby. It's like he's completely at ease. I barely felt like I was even needed there. Not to mention, Clark's a natural-born baby burper.”

Clark chuckled to himself and pushed the door open, stepping into the office.

“I've got the spit-up stains to prove it.” Clark set his backpack down by his desk. “Sorry I'm late. Lex and I were up all night with the crying machine. Every time we put him down in his crib, he started up again. Lex is working from his laptop today so he can get some sleep whenever the baby does. Mom says the little guy isn’t colicky, but he’s sure actin’ like it.”

“Well, if you need any help I could come over again”, Lana asked hopefully.

“Actually, that would be great, Mom and Lex could use a reprieve. Lois volunteered to take care of the Talon just to avoid baby-duty.”

“Great!” Happy to be needed, Lana jumped at the chance and ran with it. “Need me to pick up diapers or anything?”

“Nah. Lex has that all covered. I think we’ve got a month’s worth of diapers and formula stacked around the house. He’s sparing no expense.”

Chloe, a look of growing bafflement on her face, interrupts.

“Okay. Before you guys start picking out boarding schools for the little tyke, you might want to hear what I’ve found so far.”

The blonde plops down in front of her computer, waving Lana and Clark over. As they hover behind her, she pulls up a file. “I had my contact at emergency services run a check of all the 911 calls made around the time that you guys found the baby. This one kind of stuck out.”

She plays the recording, and from the computer’s speakers issues the sound of Tanner screaming into the phone as Karen whimpers in pain in the background.

“What the hell's the matter with you people? This is an emergency!”

“It's too late! It's too late! It's coming! It's coming! Aaah!”

“She sounds so scared.” Lana reaches for Clark’s hand, needing the touch for reassurance.

“No! No, don't leave me, please!”

There’s a faded sound of a boom as recording ends. Lana’s grip tightens around Clark’s hand.

“Did he…did he just leave her there?” Disbelief colors Lana’s voice; how could you just abandon the mother of your child like that?

“If he did, he might still be alive.”

Chloe sighs. 

“From the sounds of this, the mother wasn't as lucky.”

“She didn't even get to see her own baby. And he just left them there, to die.” Lana turns her head into Clark’s shoulder, biting back a sob of anger.

“But the baby survived.” Chloe looks between Clark and Lana. “How is that possible?”

“Can you trace this call back to the cell phone?” Clark wrapped his arm loosely around Lana, wanting to provide the same comfort he always has, but unable to bring himself to hold her as tightly as he once had. She was no longer the one he wanted to ensure stayed at his side. Now that his choice had been made, and accepted, Lana was relegated to the friendzone, no more alluring than Chloe, though the connection between them seemed slightly stronger. “If we can track him down…”

“I can try.” Chloe noticed, but didn’t comment on, the difference in how Clark was treating Lana in her obvious distress. Slightly colder than she was used to seeing when it came to the brunette; more like how he comforted her. “It might take a few hours.”

“If this is the father making the call, he might have some answers for us.” 

The bell rang for the first class of the day, and Lana and Clark left Chloe to start the process. Lana diverts halfway down the hall towards her econ class, and Clark waves her off just as a rush of pain clenches his chest. He rushes to the bathroom, pressing back against the door as he rides out the inexplicable feeling. 

A feeling of horror washes through his connection to Lex; a nightmare. Lex is dreaming, about that awful night, when Julian died. Clark feels tears sliding down his cheeks as he feels Lex’s anguish. Forcing himself to focus, he floods the bond with love and calm, soothing the thread of connection until he feels Lex settle back into a dreamless sleep. Panting from the ordeal, he quickly rinses his face free of bitter tears, torn between staying at school or speeding back to the farm to comfort Lex in person. God, it’s going to take some time to get used to this new development. Who knew Kryptonian relationships were so intense?

Lionel doesn't even bother to knock, just scans the keycard left for him down at the lobby and opens the hotel room door. Genevieve continues to snip away the dead leaves from the plant that has her attention as he steps into the room behind her, a smug twist to her lips.

"Genevieve." Lionel's voice is an authoritative growl. "You know, I'm not accustomed to being summoned like a lapdog."

"Don't be silly, Lionel", Genevieve chides, smirk widening as she still tends to the greenery. "I'd never allow you on my lap."

Lionel chuckles, a dark and dangerous sound in the small sitting room.

"So, uh, why am I here? If not for the pleasure of your company."

Lionel drops his jacket on the coffee table and Genevieve finally turns around to face him. Haughtiness drapes like an expensive coat around her shoulders, her gaze expectant as it lights upon him.

“It's time to repay old debts, Lionel. Arranging your release from maximum security prison was not an easy task, and I have yet to receive even a hint of gratitude.”

Lionel’s eyes widen slightly at Genevieve’s audacity; he has to remind himself that this is not one of his underlings, nor a less competent business associate. Genevieve Teague is definitely one of the few he truly considers an equal, and a force to be reckoned with. Still, he cannot help the bitter note behind his words as he attempts to placate her. He too, is a force of all his own. He kowtows to no one, no matter the expectations, no matter what they thought he owed them.

“Well, I've been racking my brain trying to write a thank-you note, but words could never express the way I feel.”

Genevieve ignored the sarcasm bleeding through the statement. Lionel knew full well he owed her immensely for his reprieve from incarceration. 

“Your son just returned from China with a lost element, and I would like you to retrieve it for me.”

“No, no, you have the wrong son in mind. It was Jason who brought the stone back home.”

The two power-players have stopped a couple feet away from each other, their little dance of steps and words bringing them nearly face to face. Lionel itches to step closer, to force Genevieve to have to look up to meet his gaze.

"Oh, Jason's incapable of such subterfuge." A soft susurration of breath as she laments her sheep of an offspring's pedigree. "Unfortunately he inherited his intelligence from my husband's side of the family."

"Yes, I never thought you married well." Edward Teague was a mouse of man, and a weasel of a lawyer, but Genevieve had always been the real brains and brawn of the Teague family. Lionel had often enough hoped she might divorce Edward, so that he might scoop her up. 

"Lex, on the other hand, received his genes from a far more cunning source." Genevieve had known Lillian when they were young girls, and always both admired her for catching Lionel's eye, and thought her a tremendous fool for not recognizing that it had been her money and family name that had drawn him to her in the first place. "Between you and Lillian, Alexander has always been primed for such deviousness."

Lionel stepped away to the small bar cart and poured them both a drink. Handing Genevieve one, he crossed back over to the sofa.

"You know, there were other treasure seekers in China, Genevieve."

Genevieve smiled benignly at Lionel as he sat down on the couch.

"Yes. A farm boy, an ex-cheerleader, and Lex Luthor."

"Mm."

"Who do you think ended up with the prize?"

"Well, my son hasn't been listening to me for years. Still bearing a grudge for his temporary banishment, I suppose. What do you want me to do, give him a good spanking?"

He chuckles and takes a drink as Genevieve stares at him coldly. She steps closer to him, using the height difference to her advantage to give herself an imposing air.

"You know, Lionel, I don't think either one of us wants me to go after Lex myself."

Lionel straightens, his voice turning into a deadly growl. 

"You be careful, Genevieve. I regard a threat to any Luthor as a threat to me, unless I'm the one issuing it."

"Interpret it any way you like. I want that stone, Lionel."

She walks away. Lionel takes another sip from his glass, eyeing Genevieve. Planning.

In the Kent's kitchen, Clark is holding the baby wrapped in a blanket, trying in vain to feed the fussy infant from the bottle in his other hand. Lex looks over from the other side of the kitchen island where he was working on his laptop, a soft smile on his face.

"What's the matter? What's the matter, little guy?" Clark tries to nudge the nipple past stubborn lips. "Is your milk too cold? Huh?"

The baby cries harder, squirming in his bundle. Clark holds up the bottle and uses his heat vision to warm it up.

"That is so cool." Lex is still amazed by the easy honesty that now exists between them every time Clark uses his powers in front of him. 

Clark spares him a quick, loving smile before holding the bottle back to the baby's mouth. 

"Here, try this, try this, try this. Huh? Yeah?" 

The baby finally stops crying and suckles from the bottle. Lex watches a moment longer and turns his attention back to his work, trying to get ahead a bit so he can relax and bask in this impromptu slice of life that has been sprung upon them. His earlier nightmare lingers in the back of his mind, but it's sting is lessened by the warmth he'd felt course through him as he'd slept. Clark's influence had eventually turned the nightmare into a blanket of calm nothingness, the rest of his nap dreamless and refreshing. 

"There you go. There you go."

Clark is bouncing the baby in his arms as Martha enters with a smile on her face. She looks between the two young men, a vision of the future playing out in front of her. Her heart swells. 

"Clark, I could easily get Chelsea to cover for me at the Talon so that I can take care of the baby. You two don't have to stay here."

"That's okay. I want to stay with him."

"Okay. Lex? You could always head back to the manor for a while, get some real sleep in."

Lex closes the laptop and steps down from the stool, joining Clark in fussing over the baby. 

"I'm fine, Martha, honestly. If I went back to the mansion, I'd just be splitting my time between work and worrying about the little one. It's easier for me to just stay here, than to call Clark every ten minutes to check in."

"It kind of changes your perspective when you have someone who depends on you for everything."

Martha nods in understanding, remembering when Ckark was dropped into their lives, and smiles. "Yeah."

"And I mean everything." Clark looks down at the baby with a grimace. Enhanced senses aren't always a blessing. He puts down the bottle and shifts the infant in his arms. "Could you hand me a diaper?

"Oh, sure." Martha stifles a giggle as she rummages through the diaper bag. "Here you go."

Clark puts the baby down on the counter and Martha hands him a diaper. Lex nudges Clark out of the way, knowing the brunette has yet to master this particular baby-rearing task. He rolls up the sleeves of his gray cotton shirt and gets to it. 

Unsnapping the onesie, Lex moves the fabric out of the way and peels open the sticky fastenings of the soiled diaper. Lifting chubby legs up, he pulls the diaper away and hands it to Clark to toss out, laughing at the face the younger man makes.

"Well, listen, you have my number at the Talon and your dad's out in the barn if you need him."

"Okay, Mom."

"All right?" She looks between Clark and Lex again, her heart full of joy in a way it hadn't been since the day she was blessed with Clark. "Have fun."

Lex chuckles softly, pulling a wet wipe from its dispenser. "We will, Martha."

Martha leaves, feeling oddly secure. 

Clark watches with distaste as Lex wipes the baby's little bottom clean and hands him the clean diaper after he has dusted the sensitive pink flesh with a coating of baby powder. 

"Okay, little guy?"

The baby giggles up at Lex, his little feet trying to kick in his loose grasp. Clark's grimace instantly transitions into a toothy-grin at the burbling sound. Lana steps in behind them and smiles, watching the two men cooing at the baby.

"Lex Luthor, changing diapers like a pro. Who would ever have thought?"

Lex sets the baby's legs down, distracted by the appearance of the young woman. 

"You know, this baby stuff is easier than people say. I think we pretty much got it under control." Just as Lex turns his attention back to the infant, a small stream of pee sprays up into the air. Lex barely dodges the droplets that fall back down. Clark and Lana can't help their laughter as the baby gurgles proudly, beaming up at Lex. "Wow. Nice aim, little guy."

Stepping up beside Clark, Lana watches Lex handle the new mess and finish fastening the new diaper.

"You know, we can't keep calling him little guy. They're gonna make fun of him when he gets to high school."

"Well, um, we found him in Evans Field." Clark looks from Lana to Lex. "Why don't we call him Evan?"

Lex picks up the re-bundled baby, smiling at the little squeal delight he issues.

"How's that sound, huh, Evan?"

"I think he likes it." Lana reaches out a finger to tickle the baby. "Hello, Evan. This is Clark, the one holding you is Lex, and I'm Lana, and we think that you're the most beautiful baby ever."

Clark looks between Lex and Lana, a weird feeling, almost like jealousy, clenching at his heart. A twinge of regret followed it. He could see how much both of them doted on Evan, hell, he did, too. But Evan wasn't theirs, not to keep. And, given who, what, he was, no matter which of them he had chosen, he couldn't give either of them this. A child to love and raise, a complete family. Lex may deny it, but it was obvious just watching him with Evan, he wanted to be a dad, to be the kind of father Lionel never bothered to be. 

"You know, you guys, maybe we should take a step back."

"A step back from what?" Lana looked up from Evan, confusion coloring her expression. 

Clark walked out to the living room and the others followed.

"Well, maybe we shouldn't get so attached." He gently took Evan from Lex and set him down in his cradle. "If his father's still alive-"

"Then he never should have left him in that field!" 

Lex watched the argument brewing between Clark and Lana, holding his tongue. He, too, had felt irate upon learning that the father of the baby had, by all appearances, abandoned mother and child to their fate. He felt that Lana had every right to vent her spleen about it. 

"Lana, we don't know what happened. He could've gone for help. He could be looking for Evan right now."

"Or maybe he isn't. Maybe he survived, but he just doesn't care enough to look. Maybe he still got caught in the explosion, and Evan is an orphan, just like we were."

Clark looks away, towards Lex and Evan. 

"Clark, things like this don't just happen. There's a reason he survived and that someone like you found him."

"We all found him." 

Unexpectedly, Clark reaches out for Lex's hand. Without thought or hesitation, Lex takes it, letting Clark pull him to his side. Clark's eyes meet his, the question in them obvious. Lex nods, sending acquiescence through the bond. He trusts Lana enough to know that, while she might be confused or surprised by the turn of events, she won't freak out. 

Lana looks from Clark, down to the joined hands, up to Lex's face, and back to Clark. Realization dawns in her hazel eyes, her lips parting in 'O' of surprise. She feels a pang of sadness in her heart at what she now knows she's lost, but it disappears just as quickly as it flared into existence. They'd had their chances, and it just wasn't meant to be. She'd seen the way Lex and Clark had circled around each other since the day Lex had literally crashed into their lives, and honestly, she was surprised it had taken them this long to do something about it. She knew something had felt different between them yesterday.

"When?"

Clark blushed a cute pink, and Lana noticed Lex's grip tighten around his hand out of the corner of her eye. 

"Friday. Mom's the only one who knows so far. We're still figuring things out. Lana, I…"

"I won't say a word. Thank you, Clark, for telling me." Lana turned her gaze from Clark to Lex, her eyes hardening into a stern glare. She hadn't forgotten all the pain Clark had felt when his friendship with Lex had almost fallen apart. "If you hurt him-"

"I love him, Lana. Trust me, if I end up hurting him, nothing you could come up with would cause me more pain than my own self-flagellation."

They stare at each other for a moment, a conversation taking place in their silence. Lana nods, once, an understanding passing between them. 

The lights start to flicker and the trio look around in confusion. A strong wind and a warm golden glow spreads out from Evan's bassinet. Instinctively, Clark places himself in front of Lex and Lana, his hand clenching around Lex's as his adrenaline spikes at the new threat. 

"Evan?"

The glow surges, spreading over and out the cradle, and Clark feels Lex tug him back when he tries to step forward. 

"Clark, what's happening?"

"I don't…."

Within the flaring light, Evan seems to change. But the glow is now so bright that Clark is forced to shield his own eyes, Lex and Lana behind him, Lex hiding Lana's face against his shoulder. When it finally fades away, they stare at Evan in wonder, speechless. 

Jonathan runs into the house to see what is going on, stumbling to a stop at the sight before him.

"Clark, what - my God…"

Sitting before them is Evan, but he is no longer the tiny infant they brought home from the hospital just a day ago. Now, Evan is a little boy who looks to be around seven years old. He looks from Clark to Lex to Lana fearfully. 

*******

@leatafandom

[ejzah]

A/N: For @anonkp, who thought the head canon below would make a good story.

Deeks didn’t tell Kensi for years, but the events of “Silo” were the main trigger for his frequent nightmares and hyper vigilance. He knows all the events leading up to it, the many traumatic cases, near misses, and Kensi’s coma likely played a role. Knowing she was going into the tunnels though, that phone call with her, it was the straw that broke him.

Takes place post “A Land of Wolves”.

***

I’ll Shoulder Your Pain any Day

Kensi woke up alone in bed for the third night in a row. The previous two times, she’d stayed there, waiting for Deeks to come back. Tonight though, when she found her arms empty, and the mattress beside her cold, she slipped a t-shirt on, and padded out into the living room.

Deeks was easy enough to find, his tall frame silhouetted by moonlight as he faced one of the windows. He didn’t seem to be in immediate distress, but Kensi couldn’t think of any other reason he’d be up now.

“Hey, everything ok?” she asked, keeping her voice soft so she wouldn’t startle him. He didn’t show any physical response to her voice, which meant he’d known she was there.

He lifted one shoulder without turning. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Was it another dream?” She crept closer since he didn’t seem inclined to close the distance, and laid her hand over his shoulder. She could feel the tension in his muscles and the stiff way he held himself, and started rubbing in small circles, applying almost no pressure. After a few minutes, some of the tension eased, and she tried again.

“What was it about this time? Sidorov? Mexico?”

“No,” he murmured. She thought that was all she would get, but then to her surprise he added, “You were in that silo again.”

“What? That happened years ago and you weren’t even there,” she said, confused that he would dream about that of all things. His shoulders tensed again, and she frowned, gently nudging him until he turned to face her. “Deeks, how often do you dream about that day?”

“All the time,” he revealed, eyes lowered to the floor. Between the less than ideal lighting and his bangs, she couldn’t get a good read on his expression. “Well, not as much recently.”

“But something triggered it again.”

He glanced up slowly, unexpected guilt in his eyes. She couldn’t imagine what brought it on.

“You going missing,” he inhaled shakily, pressing his lips together as he looked to the ceiling now. “Not knowing where you were, if you were alive or—just all of it. Brings me right back to that day when you called me and I didn’t think I’d ever hear your voice again.”

“Oh my god, baby,” Kensi whispered, cupping his cheek in her palm. He shivered at the contact. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried, in my own way.” There was a sadness to his voice; he worked so hard to be positive most of the time, which made the contract that much more jarring. “I started talking about leaving more. Certainly brought it up before then, but that day, and case…it changed something. It made me realize how much danger we, you, were in every single day, and the thought of losing you like that terrified me more than anything that has or could ever happen to me.”

He exhaled slowly, looking as though he’d revealed a huge secret. Kensi supposed he had.

“And that’s when you started being more vigilante about being with me during dangerous cases,” Kensi realized. “Especially outside of LA.” She felt so stupid for not making the connection.

“Yeah. In my mind, if I could be by your side, then I could keep you safe, if we couldn’t leave yet. And then, I know it doesn’t excuse some of the things I said, but, um, when we started talking about going to Mexico to get Derrick Mosley back, I just lost it. All I could see was the most important person in my life never coming back home.”

“Well, you were pretty close with that one,” Kensi whispered. She’d always known Deeks struggled more with the dangerous side of their jobs after a point, but she hadn’t put the triggering even into place. It put everything into perfectly awful perspective.

The desperation she’d seen in Deeks’ eyes, in his voice when he’d asked her to leave with him instead of going to Mexico.

Deeks stared down at her with a mixture of apprehension and pleading. She silently cursed herself for making him feel he couldn’t be completely truthful about this topic with her. Even with their improved communication, the tendency to push it down seemed ingrained.

Sliding her hands down his arms, she stopped at his hands, and grasped them in hers, bringing them between their chests.

“Baby, I need you to tell me these things. Even if you think I won’t want to hear it, or it might upset me. I know I’ve reacted…poorly in the past, but I promise I won’t shut you out like that again. Your well-being, your happiness is important too, and I am so sorry that I made you think it wasn’t.”

He nodded once, not resisting when Kensi wrapped her arms around his back. His body melted into her, and she could only imagine how tired he was. She dragged her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, keeping it up until he was completely relaxed against her.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” she asked softly. He lifted one shoulder.

“If I fall asleep, I’ll probably just have another nightmare,” he muttered.

“Then I’ll hold you through them. And talk you through it.” She kissed the side of his head. “I just don’t want you to go through this alone anymore.”

He didn’t answer, but eased back, letting her take his hand, and lead him back to their bedroom.

***

A/N: I hope this is ok. I feel like I wanted it to be more impactful then it turned out.