#like my hands tremble a little from time to time but nothing ever detrimental

[xxplastic-cubexx]

secret wars secret love you will ALWAYS be famous

bonus:

[saylorsaysstop]

Say Don't Go | Stephen Strange

a/n: i just wanted some angst and here it isssss

Everything had felt like it was crumbling around you for the last few weeks. The distance he put between you, the quiet which left you almost hollow. You would stare at the front door, beckoning him to walk through it, only for him to let you down. You didn’t know what to do or how to make it better. What was there to say to someone who wasn’t putting in the effort to love you as you deserved to be? 

The evenings he does come home, he won’t look at you. He won’t touch you. It’s as though a part of him that once adored you had died and all that remained was this silhouette of a man who used to belong to you. You knew his life was a strangled case of despair, that everything seemed to crumble around him after the accident. But you never expected Stephen to shut you out. You thought there was more to your relationship than this bitterness. 

Sitting on the barstool in front of the counter as you finish looking over a case for tomorrow at the hospital, that’s when your heart scatters in your chest at the unlocking of the front door. He stumbles inside, his complexion drained of all color. There is a heap of sorrow sitting in the middle of his back. The weight he carries looks detrimentally heavy and within time, you knew he’d fall to the ground and be crushed by his grief. 

“Stephen?” You call out to him. Your eyes trace the outline of his body, his bandaged hands, and the withering of his fingertips as he splays them on the door. You can see him taking in a couple of deep breaths before the sound of his forehead thumping against the wood has you closing your folder and crossing the distance before your brain can catch up. 

Standing before him with his back turned to you as it has been every time you see him, you swallow the thickness and blink back the tears. You will not cry in front of him. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t let him see you fall apart. 

“Stephen,” you say his name with a little more force. 

“What?” He snaps harshly, his head craning to the side. “What?” he asks again when you don’t respond immediately. 

“Where were you?”

“I was–” he draws in a sharp breath and stops talking. “Nowhere.” 

“Nowhere? Please, Stephen. Spare me. I know you’re hunting like some madman for a cure, some sort of way to fix this situation. When will it stop? When will you let me in?” 

Stephen’s shoulders clench. You can see it through his clothes. The tension could be sliced with a knife as thick as it lays between you two. “You couldn’t possibly begin to understand what I’m going through.” 

His words stab like a sword, straight to the heart. 

And the next words out of your mouth make him flinch. 

“I would be able to understand if you’d drop this grieving facade and let me in!” 

You wince after the term grieving, knowing that struck a chord in him. He slowly turns to face you and you see nothing but wariness on his features. His eyebrows pinch together as he glances up at the ceiling, forcing himself not to look you in the eye. 

“Grieving facade?” 

“Stephen, that’s not what–” 

“No, no. You don’t get to say that to me! I don’t expect you to understand what I’ve lost because of this damn accident! These hands,” he lifts his scarred hands, deep blooms of red and purple and blue splotching his skin from the surgery. His eyes are glassy but he won’t let them fall, just like he knows you won’t cry in front of him. “Are my life. My livelihood is centered on what I can do with them. I’m a neurosurgeon! The best there is! And now I can’t do what I do best! You wouldn’t understand. You’ll never understand.” 

You stare up at him and your body trembles with the desperate need to sob. “You shouldn’t even be here.” he finally pushes past you and leads himself into the kitchen. 

“What?” your voice cracks. 

“I don’t need you.” He whips around, his face reddening as the anger surges and boils to the surface. “I don’t need you coddling me! I don’t need you waiting here every night for me! I don’t need YOU!” 

The words are out of his mouth when the first tear slips free followed by another. And another. And another until his image is completely blurry from crying. That was the final thread, the string that held you two him. He just severed it in two. Your head falls into your hands as you sob uncontrollably, listening as the man that you loved just screamed that he didn’t need you. 

You’re not sure what’s going on in the rapidly spinning world but the moment you feel his touch on your shoulder, you find your bearings and flinch away from him. 

“I-” 

“NO!” You scream. “You don’t get to say that to me, Stephen! You don’t get to hurt me because YOU’RE hurt! That’s why I’m here– to help you! I know how much this accident has affected your life. I know there’s nothing more you love than to be in that operating room, saving lives, and making a name for yourself! I KNOW THAT! But you… You don’t get to say that to me. I can’t believe you said that!” 

Stephen’s face morphs into so many emotions but the one that sets in stone is remorse. Shaking your head, you walk over to the counter and grab your folder and purse. “Where are you going?” he asks. 

“Someplace where I’m needed since you don’t anymore.” 

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Stephen’s voice is tight. “I’m just angry. I-”

Holding up your hand, he stops talking. “Figure it out.” 

His eyebrows lift. “What?” 

You point a finger at him. “Figure out what it is that will make you happy. Figure out what you need.” 

“I need you.” he hisses. “I need you!”

“You should’ve thought of that before you said you didn’t.”

“Am I not allowed to be angry?!” Stephen’s voice roars. 

You angrily wipe away your tears as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Of course you do, Stephen. You’re allowed to fight, kick, punch, and scream. But never will you take that anger out on me, the only person who has stuck by your side since the accident happened! Who’s taken off work to be with you, to help you recover? Who’s cooked for you? Who has ensured you met every appointment, drove you to those appointments, who has loved you through this entire freaking mess?! ME, STEPHEN! ME! I’VE LOVED YOU THROUGH IT ALL!” 

Stephen flinches the higher your voice grows. Your chest heaves, a quick rise and fall as your nerves pulse with the need to throw something. You bite hard on your cheek until you taste blood, knowing that if you say anything else, you’ll bury the casket that was once your love for Stephen. You adore him. You love him. But you’ve officially reached your breaking point. 

“I need some time to regroup.” You exhale. 

“How long will that be?” Stephen dares to ask.

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know.” 

“I love you,” Stephen says.

His heart squeezes in his chest, waiting for you to say it back. But when you inhale and grab the doorknob, he feels you slip through his fingertips.

“Bye, Stephen,” you say before leaving.

It’s when the door shut behind you and you made it to the safety of your car that you sobbed your heart out.

[zv5x]

Hiya hope your doing okay rn

But are your requests open? If so↓

What would yandere pico, bf, senpai,(←those separate) soft pico and bf (←not separate) if their they found their bunny darling (what I mean by bunny is shy, small, little chubby, & bunny ears and tail) tried to kill themselves?

Let me explain. So they come home to see their darling covering part of their face, when they see the blood from the attempt how would they react? (The reason for blood is that they tried to do brain trama I think-) if that's too much then self harm is good as well

(it's fine if you don't wanna do this!)

I can do all that, definitely! Thank you for your request, Anon, and I really hope you enjoy these! Remember to take good care of yourself and remember you're loved! Feel free to come to me if you want anything else done! Requests are always open!

TW FOR THEMES SU1CIDE (ATTEMPTED) / SH - plz be safe you guys and my messages are always open if any of you need to vent!

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Pico

In all honesty, this was the last thing he expected to see when he returned home. At first, he was incredibly suspicious. After all, nobody ever doubted how paranoid Pico could be, and he absolutely despised the very idea of not knowing exactly what was going on in a given situation at any time. So, seeing you sitting on the floor with a hand covering your face did nothing but peeve him off at first.

"(Y/N)." His voice was firm, the usual raspy tone of his voice breaking slightly as his hand began to quiver. "What the fuck happened." Expecting an immediate response, he stared down at you with an arch to his eyebrow. You did nothing but let out a small whimper, and all Pico could do was sigh in annoyance as he made his way close to you. Pico hated it when you proved yourself to be as difficult as difficult could be, especially considering all Pico asked for was you to love him equally as much as he loved you. He didn't consider being this stubborn as needed, and yet here he was.

He knelt down quickly, grabbing your wrist and pushing it to the side. He was about to say something, was about to reprimand you for being so noncompliant when all he wanted to do was love you, but as he saw the blood, he froze. Mouth hanging open, his eyes fixated on the wound on the top of your head. Flinching, with his heart twisting in his closing chest, he tried his very hardest to swallow.

The sight of blood always made him sick. It reminded him of that, and it reminded him of her, two things that were probably the core reason for his extreme instability, and two things that he could barely even internally mention without falling under a fit of hysteria.

His thoughts were interputed, and so was the silence, as you tried to speak through your trembling lips. "I-I'm sorry, Pico..." You stumbled on your words, and the ginger instantly placed his hands on your shoulders and made for you to look him in his eyes. He looked disturbed by the situation, more vulnerable than you think you've ever seen him.

"Don't you dare apologize, (Y/N)." He breathed out, tightening his grip on your shoulders a single time. "I-I'm gonna take care of all of this for you, okay? It's gonna get better. You're gonna get better. I'm gonna find out who did this to you, I promise. I swear to fucking God if she had anything to do with this..." His words were laced with determination and vice, and you didn't dare tell the gun-slinging madman the truth of the situation. You had no way of knowing how he could react to something like that. He was unpredictable. You could end up free from him completely in one universe, and end up dead in the other, especially considering that the injuries to your body were entirely self inflicted. Knowing Pico, he'd see it as a betrayal of his trust - an attempt to escape his courting attempts, and you couldn't have him thinking of you as a traitor. It would be detrimental, not only to you but to everyone you've ever come into close contact with.

He was dangerous, but you were damn lucky he was so delusionally oblivious.

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

Boyfriend

"Beep!" Bf exclaimed energetically, worry lacing his tone, as he looked at you sitting in the corner of the basement. "Bee boop...?!"

Flinching, you turned to look at him, towel pressed firmly against the side of your skull. You gave him the brightest smile you could muster up as to not worry him, but you failed miserably, and soon Bf came rushing to your side. He barraged you with countless questions, all in his signature language of beep bopps that you somehow came to understand over the years. Though, you mostly went off of context and tone, rather than the beeps themselves. You could (quite literally) only imagine what Bf was thinking at the moment, and that terrified you.

"I'm-I'm fine, Bf, really, I just...I must have blacked out or something!" You scrambled to tell him whatever you could to calm him down and prevent him from doing anything drastic, and, to your joyous relief, the stress of the situation caused him to believe you almost instantly.

"Bee bee bep?!"

"N-no, I'm alright, this towel should do just fine. Thank you, though." You cooed at him as your ears twitched from the ringing they were being tortured with. You sucked in air though your teeth, failing to realize that Bf had cleverly placed cameras wherever he possibly could. Including the room you were in right now. Just realizing that himself, Bf quickly sat down at your level and gripped your knees happily as he told you this, your eyes widening further with every beep and boop that came from his lips.

"Ah, I-I see..." You looked down, placing your hands onto his. It was so he could make sure everything was alright, that nobody knew where the two of you were staying, since you couldn't tell him what happened considering you blacked out. He gave you a gentle, reassuring smile, cupping your cheeks in his hands and pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Beep, beep bo bop!" Everything would be alright, he told you. And, deep down, you felt comfort in those words. Deep down, a part of you believed him.

He was all you had, after all. How could you believe a third party when there was no third party to begin with?

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

Senpai

"I'm home, bunny!~"

Your pained ears twitched and rose to quick attention, just as the sound of a bookbag hitting the floor became audible. You muttered out swear words fuled by fear, as you scrambled to your feet and so stupidly decided it would be a good idea to greet your captor at the door like he expected you to, as if nothing was wrong. You brushed imaginary dirt off of your pants, breathed in deeply and exhaled with just as must depth and length, and made your way to the living room.

Your movements were drunken, your eyes filling with white and the pain was driving you nearly insane. You could barely rationalize you were near him until you heard him speak once more.

Before he did so, he stared at you for a moment. The blood was impossible to not notice immediately, and as he watched it drip down the side of your face, his eyes squinted and his lips twitched.

"Darling...."

His voice was slightly monotoned, but you knew him well enough to hear the slight shakiness of his tone, and your brain sent off alarm sounds of all kinds upon hearing him finish that one single word. His footsteps echoed off the walls as he made his way slowly towards you. Kneeling down to your level as you nearly collapsed onto the ground, he held up your head by placing two fingers under your chin, tilting his head at you slightly.

"What happened while I was away, dear? You're hurt." Taking the opportunity of seeing your wound more closely, his pretty blue eyes fixated on it, and he swallowed with a combination of nervousness and pity. "Really...really badly hurt." He cleared his throat, and you mustered up just enough energy to speak.

"Sen, it's nothing-"

"You know I don't like liars, don't you (Y/N)?" He cooed in a soft, smooth voice, caressing your bloodstained cheek with the tips of his fingers. "I just have to make sure everything is alright, that's all. I won't hurt you any further, I couldn't."

He looked at you as you tried to steady your breathing, taking in every possible situation that could have led to this. "Was it...was it one of the the girls? I wouldn't put it past one of those freaks to get my house key and harm you..." He scoffed in disgust just thinking about which on of them it could be.

"N-no, I-"

"Then what was it, (Y/N)? You can tell me. I want you to tell me."

Sniffling a single time, you decided it would be best to come clean with how things truly went down. It was for the best, and even if he got angry, it wouldn't be compatible to the rage he'd be feeling if you left him to figure it out on your own.

"I...I did it...."

"You did it...?"

Senpai stood up.

"You did it, huh?! You're just that desperate to get away from me, that you'd rather do this than just love me?!" His voice cracked, face turning blue from rage, just like it always did. The yelling hurt your already pounding head even further, and you decided you had to quickly muster up an apology before he snapped for real.

"N-no, it's not like that, Sen! I-I'm happy being with you!" You forced yourself to get up so you could embrace Senpai in a hug, only so you could collapse yourself into his arms for support. He didn't let you fall, of course, and seemed to calm down as you nuzzled your head into his neck.

Thank goodness his mood swings could come and go so quickly and drastically.

"I miss you so much during the day, Sen...I want to be able to spend more time with you, the world is so scary." You shivered, whist also patting yourself on the back for how good you've gotten at calming the blonde down. He let out a loving "aww", all the rage he once felt washing away in an instant as he embraced you right back.

"Oh bunny, I knew that wasn't the reason! I should have known better!" He kissed you over and over, pecking every inch of your bloodied face as if was nothing.

"How about I take off from school for a bit? I'm sure my precious little bun would need the extra help anyway~"

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

Soft!Bf & Soft!Pico

(Sorry this is so rushed and short looking, I'm half awake and sleepy hahaah!!!!!!!)

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, only to be met with Pico looking down harshly at you. Noticing you were finally awake once again, he snickered to himself. "Heh, almost got away from us for real that time..."

He patted you on the head, only causing you to wince in pain. "Softie, they're all good now." He yelled out, and you were soon able to hear Bf rushing over as quickly as he could.

"Oh goodness, thank you Pico!" He sighed in relief, smiling happily as he saw you awake and "well". "I'm so glad you're alright, (Y/N)! P-please, don't ever try anything like that again."

You were too weak in the head to think of a response, but you feel that if you could, you'd be cursing the two of them to hell for what they've done to you. They were the ones driving you to this point, and you wished you could just find it inside you to tell the two sick fucks just that. You didn't even know what random abandoned crack shack the duo dragged you to now.

"You-you're too small to handle that kind of damage to your body, especially your head! I don't want you hurting yourself too bad over something we could just talk about!"

Pico scoffed. "They haven't talked to us for days, blue. I don't think that's happening." Bf whimpered slightly, hearing the harsh reality being uncovered through Pico's words and looking at your wounds, he knew something had to be done.

He just wasn't showing the amount of love that he should be. He's unintentionally making you feel unwanted, and he felt that it was his duty to fix the damage that he had caused.

In that split second, he made a new promise to himself. He'd do better. For you, and for Pico.

In his eyes, the only option going forward was to just be better. And that's just what he's going to do.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Not Theirs {Steve Harrington x Plus Size Reader}

Plot: You’re getting picked on at school and Steve steps up to defend you.

Character: Steve Harrington x Plus Size Female Identifying Reader

Notes: bullying, low confidence, avoidance of eating, grabbing without consent

Part of my Plus Size Reader x Character series!

Another day, another long day of school was ahead of you. A few years ago you had loved school, you’d loved learning, you’d loved hanging out with friends but as you grew up and as others seemed to get more immature, you’d become somewhat of a target for them to pick on you. At first, it was a comment here or there about your weight. Now, you knew that you weren’t skinny and petite like other girls but you didn’t think anyone would really care? After all, it was your body, not theirs. However, teenage idiot boys and snide girls enjoyed picking on you more and more until what little confidence you had was gone.

You used to quite like the way you looked. You thought all bodies were beautiful, all shapes and sizes and you used to feel good about the way your thighs and tummy looked but recently, due to those comments, you stopped looking in the mirror; you stopped admiring yourself and instead, you started wearing clothes that took attention away from those things you’d once loved.

Once showered and dressed, you made your way to the kitchen. Your mom was making pancakes for you. She knew it was your favourite breakfast and she knew that you’d been going through a bit of a hard time recently (though she didn’t know why) so though she’d make your favourite to cheer you up. A feeling of uneasiness came over you when you sat at the kitchen island to have breakfast. You stared down at the breakfast in front of you as your stomach rumbled. Deep down, you knew you shouldn’t listen to the bullies but the names they called you... It was horrible. Your mind thought about not eating, about losing a bit of weight and maybe they’d leave you alone. You knew it wasn’t healthy, you knew that it would do more damage than good but you just wanted them to leave you alone.

All you wanted was to be good enough, to be pretty enough, to be skinny enough; to be enough. If you were enough, would they leave you alone? If you were skinny, would they stop the jeers and the taunts? Would they ever stop? Honestly, you didn’t know. You didn’t know if they would stop. They knew you were a target so they’d probably always try and shoot you down.

Taking a breath, you pushed the plate away, telling your mom that you weren’t feeling too good so you’d pass on the pancakes. She frowned, knowing something was up but couldn’t question it because you were already halfway out of the door.

You had decided to walk to school, walking was good exercise and if you did it often enough, surely you’d lose something? It was horrible thoughts and you felt like crying as you thought of them but you just wanted them to leave you alone. Your stomach gargled and grumbled, screaming out that it needed food. You rubbed it, hoping that the hunger would die down soon enough. You’d have a small lunch and a small dinner and that would be enough. But that would not be enough, you knew it. You knew that limiting yourself like that was detrimental.

School was busy when you got there, usually you were quite early but because you walked you were bang on time. Quickly, you rushed up the steps to get to your locker. Breathing fast after just running up the steps and walking a lot, you could feel your face hot and sweaty. You just hoped no one would see you.

“Look!” A voice laughed and you felt like bursting into tears then and there,  “Here’s the piggy out of breath and sweaty after running for ten seconds!”

You ducked your head, hoping that if you didn’t acknowledge them, they’d leave you alone but instead, the taunts followed you down the halls as quick as you walked. Tears burned in your eyes as you tried to get to your locker.

“Run, piggy!” A girl laughed loudly behind you, “Run!”

“She’s too tired,” a boy snickered, “that running up the front steps really took it out of her.”

Shame burned hot in your cheeks as a lump rose in your throat. If you could get to your locker, throw your things in and get to class you’d be okay. If you tried to ignore them, but ignoring them seemed useless. Their taunts and comments grew louder, their laughter boomed and echoed in the hallways. They knew you were upset and they thrived on that, they loved holding that power over you so they would do more, say more and act out more.

They got braver when you were upset and one took the chance to run up behind you and grab you from behind, spinning you around, pulling your jumper up to reveal your stomach and grabbing at your folds, “Look at all this ugly flab!”

You yelped, shoving out of his grasp and flying to the opposite side of the hall. You couldn’t help the tears now after the violation of your body. You sucked in fast breaths and almost didn’t hear the heavy footsteps and the, “What the fuck, dude?!”

Through blurry vision, you made out that Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was towering over the group of bullies, “Just a bit of fun, Steve.”

“Does that looks like (y/n)’s had fun? You’ve just grabbed her and violated her without consent. All of you are jerks.”

“C’mon, man, she was asking for it-”

Steve’s hand clenched into a fist and he swung for the boy. He hit the boy square in the jaw, the sound making you jump slightly. The group scattered,  “What the fuck?!” Steve hissed as he shook his hand.

“She wasn’t asking for it. She wasn’t asking for you to violate her. She was walking the halls and you were all terrorising her. Scram before I hit you again.” The boy was muttering under his breath about Steve as he got up, rubbing his jaw and rushed away.

You stayed, back pressed against the lockers, breathing heavy as the tears wouldn’t stop falling. Steve came towards you, whole demeanour changing as he stopped in front of you, “Are you okay?” You only managed to shake your head, “I’m gonna get you outta here, okay? Can I touch you?” You nodded, allowing him your consent to wrap an arm around you shoulders and guide you from the school. You let him help you into his car and that’s where you truly just broke down.

Steve let you. He didn’t ask anything of you, he didn’t start the car; he just let you get out all of those emotions. He grabbed his bag that was in the backseat, pulling out tissues and a bottle of water. He placed them beside you for when you were ready. You couldn’t stop crying. You felt dirty; violated. How dare they touch you like that? You felt horrible, your skin crawled and the deep self loathing you felt was awful.

It was a long time later when you managed to calm down enough to talk, “Thank you,” you whispered after taking a long drink of water to hydrate yourself, “You- You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did,” he said, nodding, “Course I had to. You think I’m gonna let them grab you like that and say that stuff to you without stepping in? No way. It’s not gonna happen again, I promise you.”

You looked at him, lip trembling. You and Steve had barely spoken before, you’d maybe spoken a handful of times and that was in class. You didn’t know why he’d stuck up for you, why he’d just punched a boy for you and now he was skipping school with you.

“You know, they’re lying, right?” He said quietly, “What they were saying about you - you’re not ugly, you’re not a pig... They’re the ugly ones.”

You scoffed, looking out of the window to look at the school, “(y/n), I’m being serious, you’re not-”

“Why do you care, Steve?” You snapped, “Why do you care about what they call me, about what they’ve done? We’re not friends!” You really didn’t mean it, you really didn’t mean to be so angry and upset at him. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t hurt you but he was the only one here so he was getting your anger.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t fazed by the sudden outburst but instead said, “I care because you don’t deserve that. How dare they touch you and violate you like that? How dare they have that much power of you? They bully you every day and you do nothing to anyone. You sit in class, tapping your pen on the desk when you’re thinking and end up throwing the cap off it by accident constantly because you’re too concentrated when you’re doing it and you don’t do anything to anyone-”

“How do you know that?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Come on, I’ve sat behind you for two years in Geography, I know a little about you even though we’re not friends. Besides, it’s your body, not theirs. They should never hold an opinion on your body, they should never bat an eyelid. You are beautiful.”

The statement caught you off guard, the way he stared deeply into your eyes caught you off guard too. You knew he was telling the truth, “You mean that?”

“Being beautiful isn’t purely outer appearance, it’s everything; personality, manners, whatever else. So what if you’ve got extra weight on your bones? You think that makes you unlovable? You think that makes you ugly? No way in hell,” he scoffed loudly, “the only way you’d be unlovable was if you turned into those bullies.” When he finished, he gave you a curt nod and turned to look out the window, frightened of your reactions. He’d ranted and spoken a lot about you candidly for someone who didn’t really know you but it touched you.

“Thank you,” you said softly, “for defending me, for punching that dick-” Steve laughed, “for letting me cry in your car... Thank you for asking to touch me.”

“No one should ever make you feel that way.”

You looked at each other when your stomach grumbled loudly, once again begging for food. Steve laughed again, “Have you eaten today?” You shook your head, “Wanna go get a burger?”

“I-” you faltered, hands instinctively moving to your stomach. Steve reached out but stopped when he was centimetres away. You looked at him and nodded, allowing him to do what he wanted.

He took your hands gently, “You don’t have to be self conscious about anything in front of me, (y/n),” he murmured, “I find you more attractive than anyone in that school, I think you’re beautiful. Please, don’t hide.” You would’ve cried if you had anymore tears left in you to cry. He spoke to honestly and openly, a real change of pace, “You are enough, more than enough.”

You let your hands rest at your sides and cleared your throat, “So... burgers?” Steve smiled as he started up the car and began talking about something else. You watched the sky from the window as he drove, looking at the clouds in the sky, all those different shapes and sizes and still very much beautiful. You hoped that with Steve’s help, you’d be able to see yourself through his eyes but for now, having him speaking those truths to you was good enough for now.

[aghost-writer]

Love Me

Chapter 3

Don't Leave Me

His abdominal organs are ruptured!

We'll begin operating immediately.

Where is this place? I thought I was on a date with Miss Rize.

Prepare for organ transplant.

Without the consent of the next of kin? Organ? Next of kin? What exactly are they talking about? Dr.

Kano!

I will accept full responsibility! Transfer her organs into him!

It's warm. Why?

Kaneki opened his eyes. Now one of his eyes was like Rize’s. He could hear the beeping of the hospital machines. He closed his eyes and succumbed back to sleep.

The next time Kaneki opened his eyes. He felt a weight on him. He glanced down. His (Y/N) was laying on him. He blushed Wait his (Y/N)? Yes, his (Y/N). He raised his hand to play with her hair. It was as soft and silky as it looked.

(Y/N) shifted and raised her head. She yawned and rubbed her eyes.

She’s so cute. And all mine.

She smiled at him so sweetly as tears filled her eyes.

“You’re awake”, her voice trembled.

“(Y/N)? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Why are you crying?”

Kaneki was franic. Why was his (Y/N) crying? What did he do?

(Y/N) didn’t speak. She simply wrapped her arms around Kaneki. Though it did take her to basically crawl into Kaneki’s lap. Damn her shortness. Her tears soaked Kaneki’s hospital gown.

Kaneki’s face went red. He couldn't believe that his (Y/N) was in his lap, giving him a hug. Oh god. She smelled so good. He could just eat her up.

(Y/N) started to pull away.

Kaneki wrapped his arms around her.

“Don’t leave me”, Kaneki cried desperately.

He couldn’t let her go. Not now. Not ever. Not when he finally had her to himself.

(Y/N) readjusted herself to fit better on the bed. She shook off Kaneki’s clinginess because he had been in the hospital for a few days. She settled down on the right side of Kaneki. Her legs were slightly overlapping Kaneki's legs. Sleep was rapidly luring her in. Her sleepless nights were getting to her. She laid her head down on Kaneki’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She couldn't help but feel safe by Kaneki’s side. She fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

Kaneki blushed as he gazed at (Y/N)’s form. He was so lucky. He tightened his arms around her. Nobody could have her.

He closed his own eyes. He let (Y/N)’s slow breathing pull him to sleep.

Kaneki awoke a few hours later. He glanced to where (Y/N) was supposed to be.

(Y/N) was no longer by his side.

Kaneki looked around frantically. He saw only her jacket.

Where had she gone? Was she okay? Was she safe?

He needed her by his side. Need her now.

His eyes noticed a tray of food in front of him. He saw a note that had his (Y/N)’s handwriting on it. He picked it up to read.

"Hey Kaneki!

Sorry I left without saying goodbye. You were just so cute sleeping that I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up. Sorry for falling asleep on you. Paranoia does that to a person. Anyway, make sure you eat some food. Hide came to get me. So don’t worry about me. I’ll make it home safely. Afterall Hide will be there to protect me. See you later!

Love, (Y/N)

P.S. Don’t worry me like that again.”

(Y/N) thought he was cute? (Y/N) was worried about him? She is so cute! And so sweet for writing a letter to him. However: the word paranoia bothered him. Was she not safe? Was someone messing with her?

Kaneki frowned at the mention of Hide.

Stupid Hide. (Y/N) would still be by his side if Hide hadn’t interfered. If Hide kept taking his (Y/N) away, Hide would have to disappear.

He picked up his chopsticks to take a bite of food. It tasted disgusting. Kaneki was quick to spit the food out onto a napkin. He couldn’t stomach anymore of the food.

He heard the door open. Kaneki pulled the blanket over him. If it was (Y/N), he didn’t want her to see him like this.

A nurse entered the room.

“Mr. Kaneki! Is this all you're going to eat? Oh, right. Your friend came by again today”, she spoke.

Friend? (Y/N)?

Not long afterwards Dr. Kano entered the room. The nurse left the room.

“How are we feeling, Kaneki?”, the doctor asked

Dr. Kano gestured for Kaneki to open his shirt. He placed his stethoscope on Kaneki's chest. The doctor hummed before pulling back.

The door opened, and (Y/N) stepped in. She blushed when she saw Kaneki’s semi-naked self.

“I’m sorry”, she stuttered before turning away to leave.

“No wait! (Y/N)”, Kaneki cried.

(Y/N) halted.

“I am not turning around until you are properly dressed”, the girl stuttered.

Kaneki looked down at himself confused. He blushed when he realized that (Y/N) saw him half naked. He yanked his gown closed.

Though in reality, he wanted (Y/N) to look at him when he was dressed like this.

“I-I am decent”, Kaneki stuttered out.

(Y/N) hesitantly turned around.

“I came back for my jacket”.

She couldn’t look at Kaneki. Her face is still red.

Kaneki glanced toward (Y/N)’s jacket.

“Stay with me.”, Kaneki asked.

(Y/N) blushed even more.

“K-Kaneki”, she stuttered surprised.

“I mean-I’ll need help after I get discharged”, Kaneki explained.

(Y/N) nodded in understanding. She walked past the two men. She picked up her jacket and stood towards the side so she wouldn’t be in the way.

Kaneki moved over and gestured for (Y/N) to sit with him.

“You can sit here so you don’t get tired standing.”, Kaneki suggested.

(Y/N)’s blush deepened, but she did not turn down Kaneki's offer. She moved to sit by him.

Kaneki turned back towards the doctor.

“I hear you haven't eaten anything since you were admitted, but there doesn't particularly seem to be anything wrong though.”, the doctor said.

“I feel okay. My sense of taste is off”, Kaneki said.

His hand found (Y/N)’s. He held it tightly

(Y/N) didn’t pull away so Kaneki counted it as a win.

“Sense of taste? Care to explain”, the doctor asked.

“Everything tastes disgusting to me”, Kaneki explained.

The doctor hummed before smirking a little.

“That could be psychological in nature. It was a pretty serious accident, after all.There's no need to rush to rush yourself. Take all the time you need to heal.”, the doctor spoked.

The doctor stood up and left.

It wasn’t long before Kaneki was discharged.

(Y/N) and him left the hostipal together.

“Nothing particularly wrong? It almost seems like the events of that whole day with Miss Rize were something that never really happened. But one thing is for sure. Ever since then, something has been something has been strange.”, Kaneki thought.

(Y/N) reached over to squeeze Kaneki’s arm.

“You okay Kaneki? You are worrying me”, his (Y/N) asked.

“I’m fine. Just ready to be home”, he replied.

(Y/N) let her hand slipped into Kaneki’s hand.

Kaneki blushed. Her hand was so warm.

From a distance, two very different ghouls watched the couple.

One regretting not killing Kaneki the first time. And the other ready to torture Kaneki.

Unknowingly having eyes on them, (Y/N) and Kaneki walked to Kaneki’s place.

~~~

The two arrived at Kaneki’s apartment. A bag was hanging on the door. Kaneki picked it up so he could read the note.

"Kaneki! Congratulations on your discharge! Presenting some leftover high-quality ingredients from my place, along with your favorite hamburger.

I hope you appreciate it! Wah-ha-ha!

P.S.

When you're up to it, come on back to school.

It's rough here on my own.”

“I see Hide gave you leftovers. I’ll put them away.”, (Y/N) offered.

Kaneki handed her the bag.

(Y/N) went to the kitchen and started to be everything away. She returned shortly.

Kaneki had flopped onto the bed. His eyes were closed.

(Y/N) smiled. She pulled the covers over Kaneki. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. She turned and left but not before writing Kaneki a note.

It was dark when Kaneki opened his eyes again. He sat up and felt something in his hand. He has crumbled up the note (Y/N) had left him.

“Sorry to leave you without saying goodbye again. I went home by the way. Take care of yourself and call me if you need me.

Love, (Y/N).

P.S. You are cute when you are sleeping

P.S.S I know I already told you that but I wanted to tell you again.“

(Y/N) was so cute. Kaneki brought the note to his nose. It smelled like her. His mouth watered. He began to have a visitor. Kaneki blushed. He was such a pervert. He was so dirty. Kaneki couldn't help but wonder what (Y/N) would say if he knew this happened from her scent alone.

Kaneki flipped on the television in ordered to distract himself. He wasn't paying attention to the news report that was airing though. His mind on (Y/N).

“A ghoul doesn't have any need to eat this much in this short amount of time in the first place. One dead body will allow them to survive for a month or two”, Mr. Ogura said in the news report.

“Mr. Ogura, can't ghouls be satisfied by eating the same food as humans do?”the spokeswoman asked.

Kaneki’s attention focused on the news report.

“No, ghouls are only able to derive their nutrition from people. It could be detrimental if they are anything else.Not to mention that their tongues work differently than ours do. When they eat human food, it tastes incredibly awful to them.”, Mr. Ogura continued on to say.

“Their tongues work differently than ours do It tastes incredibly awful to them”, echoed in Kaneki’s head.

Kaneki shot up from his bed and towards the kitchen. He tore open the hamburger bags. He raised the hamburger to his mouth and bit it. He couldn’t hold it down. He covered his mouth and ran to the bathroom. He throw up the food in the toilet.

Oh, no Oh, no.  

Kaneki started to devour food after food and drink after drink. He ran to the bathroom each time to throw up the food into the toilet. He squirted condiments and poured soda down his throat. He had tears in his eyes as it all came up and into the toilet.

He broke some plates before breaking down. He sobbed on the floor. How was he supposed to take care of himself like (Y/N) wanted? She was going to hate him. If he couldn’t take care of himself, how could he take care of her?

His hand gripped a hamburger steak bag.

“Presenting your favorite hamburger.”, Hide’s voice echoed in Kaneki’s mind.

Kaneki stood. He got out a lot of water and started to cook the food.

“Hide... Did you go out and buy this just for me?”, Kaneki thought.

He finished cooking. He brought a piece of hamburger to his mouth. His hand was shaking. He ate it. Tears streamed down his face. The fork clanked against the plate of food. Kaneki sank to the floor.

“This can't be happening. “

Kaneki’s phone started to buzz. It was Hide. Kaneki clicked denied. He couldn’t talk to anyone. Not even (Y/N). Well maybe he could talk (Y/N). He could definitely talk to (Y/N).

~~~

Hide watched as his call to Kaneki went to voicemail.

“Friend of yours?”Nishio Nishiki asked Hide.

He typed on his computer.

(Y/N) entered the room after going to the bathroom.

“I’m back”, (Y/N) said.

Nishiki looked at her. He glanced over her body and licked his lips.

”Yeah. He was supposed to get out of the hospital today, but I can't reach him. I went to see him several times, too, but he didn’t want any visitors.”, Hide continued on.

“That’s strange,” (Y/N) piped up as she moved a box.

Both men looked at her.

“I visited him a few times. Well I fell asleep on him once so I don’t really count that as visiting. I even took him home after he was discharged. He was asleep though when I left. Maybe he is still asleep.”, she continued.

Hide’s eyes narrowed. Was Kaneki trying to take (Y/N) away from him?

Nishiki didn’t like the sound of that. Even if he had just met the girl, he was still so attached to her. He should check out this Kaneki guy.

“Hmm If it were me I'd cut off ties with anyone as rude as that.” Nishiki said as he stopped looking the girl.

He glanced at (Y/N).

“Not sleeping well”, Nishiki asked the girl.

She handed a box to Hide.

“Not really.”

She picked up another box.

“I feel like someone if watching me”, she slipped while not paying attention to her words.

Both Hide and Nishiki were alarmed. Someone was stalking (Y/N)?

“What were you saying about Kaneki? Hide? Nishiki?”, she asked as she looked back and forth between Hide and Nishiki.

“Kaneki, (Y/N), and I have been best friends since we were kids. I don’t know why he didn’t let me see him”, Hide continued.

(Y/N) and Hide continued to move boxes.

“Best friends. How sweet”, Nishiki smirked.

~~~

“Hello? Kaneki? How are you feeling? I was just at the bookstore in front of the station, and Takatsuki- what's-her-name is doing a book signing, so I thought I'd tell you. Anyhow, give me a call when you're feeling better. (Y/N)’s has been asking about you ”, Hide said in Kaneki’s voicemail.

Kaneki was in bed. He slowly sat up. He slowly got dressed. He then made his way to the book store.

It was drizzling when he got there. He read the sign.

"The Takatsuki Sen book signing is now over."

He signed and turned to leave.

“Kaneki?”

Kaneki turned. And before him was (Y/N). His (Y/N). The rain appeared to make her glow.

She smiled at him.

“May I join you?”, she asked.

Kaneki nodded. He couldn’t speak as he looked at the beauty that was (Y/N).

The two walked in silence.

It wasn’t long before Kaneki’s stomach growled. He started to sniff around. He smelt something so amazing sweet.

“Hungry”, (Y/N) asked.

“We can stop and get some food.”, she suggested.

Kaneki didn’t hear her. He was too busy trying to find the source of the sweet smell. He glanced around. There were too many other smells for him to find the source.

“People People People People Children People People --Woman --Flesh --Girl --Flesh --Man --Flesh --Family --Flesh --Children Boy Woman --Flesh Flesh Flesh --Child Boy --Flesh Flesh --Flesh Flesh Flesh --Flesh Flesh Flesh Flesh!”, echoed over and over in Kaneki’s mind.

He couldn’t take it. He ran and ran while leaving (Y/N) behind.

She called out his name and started after him.

Kaneki was too fast for her to catch him.

Kaneki didn’t stop running until he made it back to his apartment. He slammed the door shut and locked it. His shoes slipped off as he ran to the bathroom. He looked into the mirror. One of his eyes was the same as Rize’s eyes. He whimpered.

“What’s happening to me?”

Rize appeared in his mirror.

Kaneki yelled and slammed his fist into the mirror causing the mirror to shatter.

I know what's causing it!

Transfer her organs into him!

Blades such as knives or kitchenware cannot hurt them.

Let’s see if that’s true. If that's true, then I’m a ghoul.

He scrambled for a knife.  He raised it.

This won’t hurt.

He drove the knife towards his stomach. He screamed as the blade of the knife broke off from the handle and onto the floor. He tumbled backwards onto the floor. He sobbed.

What am I supposed to do now?

~~~

Kaneki stood outside the area where the accident occurred.

“Kill a person take their flesh! And eat it”, Kaneki’s hunger spoke.

Kaneki snapped back.

“What’s gotten into me?”

He started to sniff around. There was a sweet smell in the air. But not as sweet as the Scent from before. Kaneki turned towards an alleyway.

“What is that scent? It's the first time I'm smelling it, but it seems so familiar.  A sweet aroma, like Mom's home cooking.“, Kaneki’s hunger talking.

He could see his mother’s cooking as he started to stagger towards the smell.

“There's something over here that even I can eat! Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?!”

Kaneki made turns and moved quickly. He was so hungry. He ran into some trash. He was drooling as he stood up to follow the smell.

“It's close”

Kaneki stumbled on a ghoul and his kill. He watched the ghoul devour the human.

“A ghoul.  A human! How could I have been enticed here by the scent of a corpse?!”his mind screamed.

Kaneki collapsed into his knees.

The ghoul looked up from his meal.

Kaneki sobbed. What would (Y/N) say if she saw him like this? Would she be scared or even sympathetic towards him?

“You're a ghoul. What's the matter? Are you all right? Don’t cry, it’s okay. My name's Kazuo.”, the ghoul offered up.

The ghoul looked at his food and reached down to pull some meat apart from it.

“It's been a long time for me, so I can't share too much with you, but here, eat-- “, he said.

Blood splattered from the ghoul. Some even got in Kaneki.

“Good riddance. Don’t go plundering my feeding grounds. Hmm? I've never seen you before. Why is only one of your eyes red? That's nasty.”, Nishiki spoke.

Nishiki walked towards Kaneki. He gripped Kaneki by the neck and slammed him against the wall.

“Do you think you could hunt on my territory and get away with it?”, Nishiki said angrily.

He was pissed. (Y/N) walks on his territory. He had to protect her.  This one eyed ghoul would eat her.

“I-I wasn't I didn't know I just happened to be passing by”, Kaneki strained.

“Do you think I believe that. Okay, imagine this. (Y/N) is naked and lying on the ground. Then some guy was there with his pants down says to you, "I wasn't doing anything.I just happened to be here.”, Nishiki said as he tighten his grip on Kaneki’s neck.

He didn’t even notice that he said (Y/N). He was too angry to notice.

On the other hand, it caught Kaneki’s attention. This ghoul knows (Y/N)? She’s in danger! He has to protect her!

From above, Touka watched them. She was debating if she should interfere. If she did, (Y/N) wouldn’t be hers and hers alone. If she didn’t, (Y/N) would be hers.

"That's the same as what you're telling me. If someone did that to my (Y/N) , I'd kill the guy. That's why I'm killing you, as punishment for trespassing on my feeding grounds”, Nishiki spoked.

Touka dropped down from her place on the building. She was going to regret this.  Really regret this.

“This isn’t your territory. Which means he wasn’t trespassing, Nishiki. So let him go”, Touka demanded.

Nishiki turned towards her while holding Kaneki up.

“Touka”, he said.

He dropped Kaneki.

Kaneki gripped his neck as he coughed.

“I don’t see what the problem is. I know that Binge eating bitch is dead”, Nishiki argued.

“How does that make these your feeding grounds?  You don’t have any say on the task of distributing the feeding grounds Rize stole. It will be distributed among the weaker ghouls. Just leave it up to those of us at Anteiku.”, she spoke.

Her eyes turned into their ghoulish color.

Nishiki turned towards her.

“Huh?! You know, I still don’t understand why we have to rub everything by a bunch of fence-sitters like Anteiku. I am just reclaiming what is mine”, Nishiki said angerly.

Nishiki started to walk towards Touka.

“Because you were weak”, Touka started off.

“I don’t appreciate being insulted by a punk with a smart mouth. Watch it. You’re starting to piss me off”, Nishiki snapped back.

The two ghouls started to walk towards one another.

“You think I’m scared”, Touka asked.

The two engaged in a fight. They flew to one another.

“You should be”, Nishiki shouted.

Touka passed by Nishiki with ease.

Nishiki was shocked when he got pushed back. He grunted.

“Is that all you got, Touka”, he taunted.

“What for it”, Touka answered.

Nishiki’s eyes widened. Wounds opened on his body and blood splattered out.

He semi-fell to the ground.

“Do you want me to go harder next time?”, Touka asked.

Nishiki grunted. He turned and ran tail.

“Do you want to take your corpse with you?”, she said as she watched him flee.

Kaneki was gasping.

Touka turned her attention to him.

Kaneki reaches out for the corpse. He stopped when Touka stepped over the corpse.

Touka reached down and picked up a hand from the corpse. She offered it to him. She knew that she could use him to get closer to (Y/N).

“You want this?”, She asked.

Kaneki reaches for it before using his other hand to pull his hand back. What would (Y/N) say if she knew he ate human flesh? He hunched over.

“You're not eating? Oh wow, only one of your eyes is different”, she said.

Her eyes widened as she remembered something.

“You're the one who was with Rize. Why weren't you eaten? Then again your eye.”, Touka pretended to be shock.

She knew what happened. However; she wasn’t quite sure how Kaneki survived something like that.

“Please help me! I know you may not believe this, but I'm human. And yet I want to eat that I want to eat it so bad I can't help it But if I do, I won't be human anymore! (Y/N) won’t love me anymore!”, he sobbed hungerly.

His hand reached out once more. He was struggling to keep it at bay.

“If you're in that much pain, then eat.” , Touka encouraged.

Then (Y/N) won’t love you. She’ll only love me.

Kaneki was sobbing as he reached for the hand. He was so close but couldn’t bring himself to take the hand to eat. He hit the hand out of Touka’s hand. It flew off to the side.

“No way! No way! No way! No way! No way! No way! No way! There's no way I can eat another person’s flesh. (Y/N) would hate me!”, he desperately spoke.

Let her hate you.

Kaneki had his head on the ground.

“Killing people.  Killing each other.  I'm not like that! I'm human! I'm human! I’m not a ghoul! I’m human like (Y/N). Her love makes me human”, he cried out.

“This is ridiculous. (Y/N) may be human, but she love belongs to ghouls”, Touka stated.

Belongs to me.

She turned and knelt down by the corpse. She broke some bones to get to an organ. Blood splattered onto her cheek.

“Why not give in already? If you don't have the nerve to eat then I'll give you a hand!”, Touka angrily said.

She turned and ran towards Kaneki. She shoved the organ into Keneki’s mouth. She was doing this for (Y/N) and (Y/N) alone.

Kaneki swallowed.

Touka glared

For (Y/N)...

Only for (Y/N)...

Yanderes

Hideyoshi Nagachika/ Hide

Ken Kaneki/ Eyepatch

Touka Kirishima/ Rabbit

Yakumo Oomori/ Yamori/ Jason

~~~NEW YANDERE ALERT~~~

Name: Nishiki Nishio

Type: Isolating, Violent Status: Alive First Meeting: Don’t Leave Me Nickname: Sunshine Reason: (Y/N) is the center of his world. She is the light in the color muted world he saw. He calls her sunshine because (Y/N) is the center of his world just like the sun is the center of the universe.

Chapter cover was made by vasiadiadein!

[armysantiny]

Reckless - DSC

Pairing: Sicheng (Winwin) x female reader || WayV

Genre: fluff, angst, comfort

Includes: motocross racer reader, tournaments, established relationship, crashes, head injury, broken arm, Mark mention, news headline, hospital visit, overnight stay, falling unconscious, concussion, Renjun mention, Donghyuck mention, Jeno mention, hot chocolate, eating breakfast together, teasing, domestic fluff

Word count: 3.31k

Warning: hospital, injury, concussion, broken arm

Rating: 12

Networks:@kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @kpopscape, @ultkpopnetwork, @kpopficsnetwork, @kpopcontentcreatorsclub, @k-dinernet, @lovesick-net, @whipped-kpop-creators, @prism-nw, @k-library, @neoswitchnet, @nct-writers, @nctcreations

Tagging: @teeztheflag, @intokook, @cherry-hyejin

Summary: : After ending her tournament on a high, y/n takes Sicheng to the practice track for a few spins on her bike. Opting to watch her instead, he warns y/n not to injure herself; she does need to rest after her race. Promising to try and be as careful as she can, y/n takes her bike on a few laps of the track. When she takes her eyes off the track for just a moment, she sends the bike and herself flying into the ground.

An: My first collab fic! (I’m kinda ehh about this tho-)

Champagne, cameras, crowds; winning the national championship - y/n had done it. As she ran into Sicheng’s arms in front of the cameras, he spun her around. Setting his girlfriend down, he pulled her in for a soft kiss. A kiss that held a thousand meanings; longing, congratulations, you did it, I’m proud of you, well done, y/n. Pulling away and seeing the stars in each other’s eyes, the couple stayed like that, the cameras capturing their moment - as if they were the only ones in the world at that moment.

“Shall we get out of here? I think I’ve seen enough cameras to last a lifetime.”

Sicheng couldn’t describe just how proud he was of y/n; seeing her win a tournament after she had returned from a dip in motivation felt like a scene out of a drama. Except it wasn’t a drama: this was y/n, this was real. His hand intertwined with hers, the couple walked through the streets of Seoul and simply enjoyed each other’s company. As they stopped to cross the street, a cheeky grin made its way onto his face as he quickly pressed a kiss to y/n’s cheek. When she looked to Sicheng, he turned away immediately, a bashful series of giggles falling from him as he walked across the crosswalk with y/n. With the blush on her face dying down, y/n scoffed to herself, shaking her head. Gosh, he was endearing. 

Somehow, they ended up at the race track not that far from their shared apartment, and y/n was already eying the practice bikes they kept in the shed. Sicheng knew that look in her eyes all too well, and it already seemed like a bad idea in his head. Didn’t y/n just come back from a race tournament? It wasn’t that he wanted her away from what made her happy, but he missed her dearly. A little quiet time together before she hit the tracks again would be more than ideal.

“Baby...you only just returned home today, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to get back in your gear tomorrow.” An effort to persuade y/n was made, but it wasn’t strong enough, because with nothing more than a pout, some aegyo and ‘please baby~’, Sicheng’s resolve crumbled. He was whipped for y/n, and it showed. A lot. With a sigh, he ruffled her hair and nodded, a smile finding its way onto his face. Giggling, y/n kissed her boyfriend on the cheek and took her long coat off, asking Sicheng to hold it as she went over to the garage. Picking out a bike that she used frequently, y/n changed into gear and pushed the bike out to the track.

As Sicheng took a seat by a bench, his phone rang whilst he was watching y/n, making sure that was safe. Looking at the caller, he chuckled to himself. 

“Mark! How are you?” The younger male across the line was bouncing with excitement, the news article on his computer. Being the couple’s mutual younger friend, he was practically treated like a little brother.

“Hyung! Oh my gosh - have you seen the article?! Your relationship is viral!” He exclaimed, the article in question running with the headline; ‘Motocross champion in a loving relationship. How long has this been going on?’. As far as tabloid news articles went, it was definitely a much kinder title than what could’ve been developed. Listening to Mark ramble on while y/n drove a few laps around the track, Sicheng burst out laughing at Mark’s impression of some of their friends. And this caught y/n’s attention, for better or for worse. To her detriment, y/n turned her head towards her boyfriend as she approached a corner, however, she failed to control her bike. Before the professional racer knew what was going on, she was sent flying off of her bike and into the metal chairs - that had been stacked up and stored under a shelter -  her bike getting caught on the barriers. The sound of the crash itself was by no means quiet, as multiple chairs collapsed and fell on top of y/n.

As the crash happened, Sicheng’s gaze was ripped from the sky towards the fallen bike, and soon the chairs. A panicked horror fell on his face and he immediately hung up on the younger friend, running down towards the track and to the mess of chairs that had covered y/n.

“Y/n! Oh dear God… I told you to be careful!” His heart dropped out of his chest when y/n  didn’t respond for a few seconds - although it felt like an eternity - and Sicheng feared the worst. As the adrenaline flooded his veins, the 23-year-old started pulling the chairs away, discarding them every-which-way as he tried to find y/n. Once a majority of the chairs were out of the way, he pulled her to his chest, cradling her unconscious - but thankfully alive - body. Hands still trembling, he fumbled with his phone as he dialled 119. His voice trembled as he described his situation, a shaky sigh of relief when help was confirmed. Putting the call on speaker and leaving it next to him, Sicheng held y/n’s face in his hands. 

He didn’t like this. He didn’t like any of it.

He hated seeing her like this.

The tremble in his voice turned to whimpers as he ran his hand through her hair. But something felt off. Pulling his hand away, a stifled cry fell from him when his hand came back stained red. Blood. Y/N was bleeding from the back of her head. How hard did she hit her head..? Sicheng’s eyes warmed with tears as he brushed his girlfriend’s hair out of her face, a thumb tracing over her shut eyes. Soon, he could feel the tears drip down his face and he made no attempt to wipe them away, simply letting them stain his cheeks. If only he hadn’t distracted her, then she wouldn’t be unconscious. Then y/n wouldn’t be laying in his arms, bleeding from her head.

The sound of sirens brought the 23-year-old back to reality and Sicheng raised an arm up to grab the paramedics’ attention. Surrounded by paramedics, they brought y/n onto a stretcher and into the ambulance that had accompanied them. Still trembling as he tried to explain what had just happened, Sicheng was brought to the ambulance afterwards and given a glass of water to drink as the doors closed and they were driven to the hospital. His leg bounced as he grew more and more panicked, eyes blurring up with tears again as he looked over to y/n. The irony was painful, and it still didn’t register to Sicheng that only a few hours ago y/n was awake and joking around with him.

A few hours later, Sicheng was sitting in y/n’s room, on a chair close to her bed. Her hand enclosed in his, he rubbed his thumb over her palm subconsciously while he replayed the crash in his head over and over again. Getting up to walk off the anxiety, he turned to the door when he heard a series of knocks. Walking to open the door, he was met by a panicking Mark, who looked like he’d seen a ghost. Seeing y/n laid on the bed, his face fell. Lying unconscious in a hospital bed didn’t suit the motocross racer at all. He looked at Sicheng and his eyes said more than he could ever say with words. A hand on the older male’s shoulder, Mark sighed before he spoke.

“Hyung, why don’t we go outside for a bit? Y/n’s still going to be right here.” He suggested, hoping that Sicheng would agree and go to the courtyard with him. Fresh air would do them both some good. Nodding, Sicheng exhaled and grabbed his coat, which had been draped over the chair he was sitting on. With one last look at y/n, the older of the two opened the hospital room door and they left the room, making their way to the courtyard.

Handing Sicheng an iced caramel latte, Mark sat down on the bench and took a sip of his own drink. Neither of them knew what to say, but they both knew that they had to stay positive about it. Sicheng was the first to bring his attention away from the floor, looking at Mark.

“Do you think she’ll actually take a break after she recovers?” He asked, his features softening.

“She definitely won’t want to, but Noona really should take a break. A few weeks away from her bikes won’t kill her.” The brunet responded, a conviction in his voice. Y/n was brave, but sometimes too reckless for her own good and today proved that effortlessly. They both had a lingering feeling that they’d have to force y/n to take a break.  Staying like that for the meantime, both were lost in thought until Mark’s phone rang; he was needed back in his apartment. Renjun was seconds from beating Donghyuck up and Jeno did not want to be the one in between it. Although, he did agree to film if anything did happen. 

“Hyung, I’m sorry - I gotta go. Renjun’s going to beat Hyuck’s ass-”

“Go on, and send me the video later.” Sicheng chuckled, patting Mark’s shoulder in the reassurance that he’d be okay. A quick goodbye, and soon Mark was making his way out of the hospital, getting a taxi and heading to his shared apartment before he would be greeted by a screaming Donghyuck. Watching the younger male leave with an amused smile, Sicheng hummed to himself before he figured it was time he headed back to y/n.

Returning to his girlfriend’s hospital room, he sat back in his chair, his hand holding hers once again. The sun had started setting outside as his eyes felt heavy, and Sicheng could tell he’d most likely end up spending the night in the hospital. Pulling his chair closer to y/n’s bedside, he laid his head on the mattress, facing his girlfriend as he let the urge to sleep take over. A nurse who happened to be passing by peeked inside the room and smiled gently, almost parent-like. Going into the storage room, they picked out a pillow and blanket for Sicheng as he slept through the night shift.

By morning light, the sunlight had just started to fall on y/n’s face, and the motocross racer’s skin glowed in the early morning rays. Eyes opening with a low groan, she looked around at her surroundings, a brow raised in confusion. Why exactly was she in the hospital? Wasn’t she riding her motorbike when- oh right…

She crashed. Headfirst. That was why she was lying in a hospital bed, dazed and with a throbbing headache. Wonderful. A soft smile on her face when she saw Sicheng asleep, y/n sat herself up - albeit slowly and with a lot of effort - and reached forward to lace her fingers through his hair. Stopping when the sleeping brunet started opening his eyes, y/n’s hand stayed in her boyfriend’s hair. Yawning as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Sicheng’s eyes formed into an ‘ㅇ’ when he noticed the pillow and blanket.

“Oh? One of the nurses must have-” words getting caught in his throat when he ran his hands through his hair and ended up feeling y/n’s own hand in his hair. Turning to face y/n in hopes that he wasn’t simply just imagining things, his eyes almost didn’t process what he was seeing until Y/N smiled, amused by the shock on his face. It was cute, she had to admit.

“Y-y/n, you’re…”

“Awake?” She answered, her voice a tad hoarse.  Reacting immediately and pulling her into a hug, Sicheng exhaled, content with staying like that for a few minutes - in hope that y/n being awake wasn’t a dream. Releasing her from the hug, Sicheng held her hands in his, stars in his eyes.

“How, how do you feel?... You scared me, you know?” Sicheng asked, peacefully admiring how his girlfriend looked in the morning - despite the bandages, IV and cute but unruly bed hair. Throat still dry, y/n shrugged.

“My head’s killing me, that’s for sure. Uh - what, what did the doctors say?” She asked, curious as to exactly how bad her injury was. The way Sicheng grimaced before answering wasn’t helping either. Preparing for the worst, y/n braced herself for the news. What if she couldn’t ride bikes again from that point on? Her career couldn’t be over that quick-

“Well, you got a pretty bad concussion, and they want to see if you’ve broken anything.” Sicheng explained with a sigh, indicating her elevated arm. Y/n had gotten away with concussions before - it was nothing new. Workplace incidents, that sort of thing. But if she had broken a bone, there was no way she’d be allowed to go anywhere near a motorbike until she was fully healed. Which would be a minimum of a month off the tracks, at least.

“I hope it isn’t broken.”

Getting the x-ray done was the easy bit; keeping her arm in place, letting the doctors do what they had to do, simple. It was the waiting for the results that was the hard part. Although it was only a few hours, y/n’s train of thought wasn’t letting up. The worry was eating away at her. Distracting herself by staring out of the window, even that was proving to be of little help. Biting at her lip as she went through what she’d do in the event that she did break her arm, y/n hadn’t noticed the nurse walking up to her bedside until Sicheng had repeatedly tapped her leg, an amused grin on his face after he had gotten a cup of water for the both of them. Shaking her head and turning to the nurse, y/n waited for the news.

“How bad is it?” Y/n asked, a blend of hesitation and hope in her voice.

“You’re quite lucky, Miss L/n, you had a pretty nasty crash. Apart from your concussion, you’ve sustained a mild fracture in your right arm.” The nurse answered, a polite smile on their face as they broke the news as best they could. As y/n took in the news that she’d ended up with a broken arm, she exhaled, thanking the nurse for letting her know. There was a pause in the room as the couple were left alone, an amused realisation and chuckle coming from the professional bike racer.

“Well, isn’t that wonderful?”

Holding y/n’s free hand as the couple left the hospital, Sicheng reached over and ruffled his injured girlfriend’s hair, a grin on his face at y/n shaking his hand off with a sulky downturn to her lips. They’d been on the phone with her manager, and it was confirmed that she’d be taking the required time off to recover, and an extra two weeks to actually take some time away from the track. Lips pursed as she observed her arm sling, y/n turned to her boyfriend - who had been calling a cab while she was zoned out in her own world. If she was going to be taking time off, the idea of spending as much of that time with Sicheng was quite appealing, to say the least.

“Sicheng, can you stay the night? I wanna spend more time with you,”

“Sure~ I’m free for next week. I’m all yours y/n-ah~” 

Entering the apartment together, y/n sighed, taking a seat on the sofa and resting her head as she stared up at the ceiling. Hanging up his coat, Sicheng joined her, taking the same position and giggling when y/n turned to him in confusion. She knew why she was staring at the uninteresting ceiling, but why did he have to? His giggles turning into snickers, Sicheng excused himself into the kitchen before y/n could ask the question that was on her mind. Returning to the living room with two mugs of hot chocolate in hand, Sicheng set y/n’s down and took a sip of his own, an amused grin remaining on his face. Still more or less not in the mood to talk, y/n leaned over and pressed a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek as she picked up the other mug with her unbandaged hand. The couple stayed like that, enjoying their drinks and the silence. 

As the evening drew closer, and both y/n and Sicheng were feeling their eyelids grew heavy, a yawn from the motocross racer in the room signaled to them both that it would be best for the couple to get some sleep. 

“Baby, I don’t know about you, but I’m seconds away from passing out on this sofa,” Y/n joked as she pulled herself up and helped Sicheng to his feet. Wincing a tad when her ankle collided with the corner of the table, y/n rolled her eyes with a shake of her head and a smile when Sicheng started giggling.

“Y/n-ah, are - are you okay?”

“Well, I’m glad you’re entertained,” y/n sassed, walking into their bedroom with Sicheng trailing after, a grin still on his face, “I’m fine, just so you know~” 

The next day, y/n had woken up with a groan. Although she had spent ten minutes trying to find the best way to sleep, she had tossed and turned - and now her arm was starting to ache. Pushing herself to sit up and get out of bed, y/n tried managing as best she could, gently massaging her arm every so often. She’d take some painkillers after she ate breakfast. Heading to the kitchen to try and make herself something to eat, y/n stopped and looked down, a flustered smile on her face as she turned to see Sicheng with his head buried in her shoulders.

“Good morning you~ could I interest you in some breakfast~?” Y/n laughed, kissing the still half asleep man’s cheek. Muttering something about making it himself, Sicheng unwinded his hands and dragged his feet around the kitchen floor as he made himself something to eat, his girlfriend watching him as she leaned against the dining table, sipping on a fruit smoothie.

“How do you manage to get up so early? I’m exhausted.” Sicheng asked, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Prone to working afternoons himself, waking up early morning was definitely something he wasn’t used to. Giggling as she ate, y/n shrugged, a playful smile on her face. Waking up early was the norm for the motocross racer; arriving at the tracks at unforgiving times to practice.

“Oh I don’t know~? Motocross perhaps?” She asked, teasing the man in front of her. His unamused face turning into a smile that screamed ‘I love her so much’, Sicheng rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he watched the pleased grin on y/n’s face.

“Y/n-ah, do you know how much I love you?”

“Do I?”

“I- come here you-” Walking over to y/n and pulling her out of the chair and into his arms, the couple stood there for a moment, lost in each other's eyes...Until y/n started wincing.

“Baby? What’s wrong? Did, did I hurt you, I’m so-” Sicheng pouted in concern as he started checking y/n’s arm, looking back up in confusion when she started laughing. “What? What is it?”

“Got you~”

“Y/n! You scared me! Seriously, you’ve got to be less reckless next time” 

“Love you too baby~”

[raffinit]

Sylvaina concept: Jaina flaunting her magical prowess (in battle, in court, in defense of her kingdom/wife, dealer’s choice here) and Sylvanas being awestruck/overwhelmed by it

this got way out of hand but i have ZERO regrets

can Jaina actually do what she does?? who knows??? i say she can because this is an au where jaina can do whatever she likes

------

She understood, even in some peripheral way, the power the Lord Admiral wielded. 

Not merely for the titles Proudmoore held, but Sylvanas could remember hearing tell of the last living heir of Kul Tiras even in the early days of Jaina's time in Dalaran.

Long before she had ever crossed paths with Jaina Proudmoore as Banshee Queen — as Warchief —she'd known of Jaina's reputation.

Powerful. Wilful. As impressive as she was terrifying.

Age and experience had done precious little to temper the burning flame of righteousness and ambition in Jaina. She'd simply learned how to channel it.

The thought seemed to unsettle the Alliance more than her vibrant temper.

The last thing Sylvanas would think to call Proudmoore was ‘unassuming’. No one could look at Jaina and forget the hidden wealth of power she wielded. Perhaps it was easier for humans, who lacked dearly in the way they perceived the world, but they as elves were both blessed and cursed with the ability to be keenly attuned to the otherworldly pull of the arcane.

It certainly explained some part of Tyrande and Vereesa's fascination with Jaina.

She had seen Jaina on the battlefield countless times. Knew the arcane signature unique to only her wife when the earth came to life with the scent of scorched ozone and sea breeze.

Whether they had been on opposite ends of the chessboard or pressed back-to-back against a swarm of enemies, it was undeniable — the way Jaina rocked the earth they stood on. The powers of a banshee were certainly vast and terrifying, but Jaina held the forces of nature in the palm of her hand with the strength to either cradle a fragile life or crush it entirely.

It fascinated Sylvanas to observe Jaina. No doubt, the fascination was reciprocated; for such an avid mind, there was no pretending that the functions of an Undead creature as powerful and unpredictable as a banshee didn't drive Jaina to the point of madness for her need to understand everything.

That was one other thing. Jaina had the curiosity to kill a cat ten times over. It was almost child-like; the way her head would tilt this way and that, her bright eyes wide and intent on whatever it was that drew her attention. She watched, then understood, then applied.

Sylvanas remembered the day Jaina joined her and the Dark Rangers for a bout around the training yard. Remembered the keen, almost feline way Jaina’s eyes trailed after them around the yard. Remembered the way those bright blue eyes glittered with curiosity when she allowed some of her own prowess to come to light.

“Your powers,” Jaina said that night, as they were bedding down. “That thing that you do — when you siphon life force. What do you do, exactly?”

Sylvanas eyed her for a moment, then shrugged. “Kill them, obviously.”

“Well — yes, but do you take their soul? Their essence?”

“I drain them of everything. The very breath in their lungs. The light in their eyes.”

“It fuels you?”

“In some way. Though like living creatures, I do need to watch what I ‘eat’.”

“How so?”

Sylvanas shrugged again. “It feeds my body, but what I feed it can be more of a detriment than a benefit. Beings touched by arcane are ideal. Corrupted ones…” She tilted her head vaguely.

Jaina hummed thoughtfully. “It’s not something all Undead can do, is it? It’s something only banshees can control.”

“Others have variants of it. Necromancers. Priests. They all channel a bastardisation of fel magic in some way. Though none are as…” She waved a hand. “Dramatic, I suppose.”

Jaina’s mouth curved with amusement, but there was certainly something darker in her eyes that prickled at the base of Sylvanas’ spine.

“Surely you mages have something of the sort in your arsenal of magic.”

“Perhaps,” Jaina replied, far too flippant as she turned over onto her side. “Goodnight.”

Sylvanas knew the calculating little gleam in those eyes. There were no further questions in the days after, but she began to notice the slightest change in Jaina’s scent. Soft at first; faint. Something earthy and bittersweet like the scent of wood rot blooming from beneath the mulch of a damp forest floor.

It wasn’t an unpleasant scent, but it was no less unsettling.

The last thing she expected Jaina to smell like was an Undead.

It was there a moment, then gone the next. At times, she caught Jaina’s eye and saw something almost knowing and coy there. Tempted as she was to press; to pry about such secrecy, being knee-deep in a war against the Old Gods left precious little time for idle conversation.

They were in the heart of the battlefield when it came to light again. Back-to-back, as they often found themselves in recent times, facing off waves of corruption that came in all shapes and sizes.

The Light gave them a wide enough berth to manoeuvre, but the swarms seemed endless. Sylvanas’ power stores drained and restored in turns with such speed it made her almost dizzy with it. It was insidious; she was taking in too much fel, too much Twilight.

She gathered the darkness around her and Wailed once more — pulling in the gathering crowd of corrupted soldiers around them and draining all she could.

Then she staggered, Deathwhisper gripped tight in hand as she bent to a knee.

Jaina’s hand settled on her shoulder, fingers sliding between the straps of her pauldron. “Sylvanas.”

She batted the hand away and rose to her feet with some effort. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine!” Jaina snapped. “You take any more of them inside you and the Old Gods will stick in that thick skull of yours.”

“Did you have a better idea?” she shot back.

Jaina’s hand shot out and fisted tightly to the front of her breastplate. Her eyes widened as she was yanked forward in a rush and a pair of lips crushed against hers.

It felt, rather frighteningly, as if Jaina was draining the very life force from her.

She knew the sensation as well as she knew her own skin; knew this brimming power of death magic. There was no one else who could wield it as she could, and yet —

And yet.

She wrenched herself away, claws sinking deep into the meat of Jaina’s arms —

Then gasped.

Black and purple veins crawled across Jaina’s skin and up into her face. It ate away into the vibrant blue of her eyes until they glittered like an obsidian sky. Her alabaster hair came apart from its thick braid, unfurling around Jaina’s head like a living creature.

Then she grinned.

Her voice carried the same eerie echo of a banshee.

“Together,” she said, and Sylvanas’ ears flicked at the reverberating trill of it. “One last Wail.”

Sylvanas licked her lips and tasted sea breeze. It was a blank of memory after that — she couldn’t remember much outside of taking Jaina’s back once more. Of opening her mouth and Wailing. Of hearing the resonating echo of it in Jaina’s voice; amplified and augmented. Of watching their enemies crumple into a pile at their feet, left as nothing more than smouldering husks.

When it died away, Sylvanas found herself swaying in place. Jaina leaning at her back.

It had been a lifetime since she felt the exhaustion of war.

Jaina’s hand clasped sluggishly to her neck, cold and clammy. She could barely comprehend the mumbled, slurring command. “Catch me.”

Sylvanas turned in time for Jaina to collapse into her arms, bloodless and trembling. The blackness had faded away, the obsidian sky had given way to blue once more. She gathered the mage close and told herself that the tremble in her voice and arms were nothing more than exhaustion. 

Quietly, and with no small amount of awe, she said, “That was...incredible. I’ve never felt —”

“So powerful?” Jaina finished, smiling wanly. “Neither have I.”

“What did you do?” Sylvanas demanded, sweeping Jaina into a bridal carry and marching back through the ranks. They were out in the open still; even with a pile of bodies at their feet. They were sitting ducks. “You look close to death.”

Jaina gave her a wry smile. “Magic trick. I learned how to do what you do.”

Sylvanas stared at her. “I thought fel magic was forbidden to you.”

“Not fel magic,” Jaina replied. “Death magic. Necromantic power.” Her head lolled as they moved, resting wearily against Sylvanas’ chest. “I might vomit on you. Fair warning.”

“Why would you subject yourself to such a thing? Curiosity kills, if you didn’t realise.”

Jaina huffed and found enough strength to lift her head and glare at Sylvanas. “When you’re married to a martyr with a penchant for running headfirst into battle, the end tends to justify the means.”

The absurdity of it made Sylvanas bark out a laugh. “You expect me to believe that you did this for me?”

“Yes,” Jaina said simply. “You’re my wife. For better or worse. Now please hurry up and get me to a bucket because I really do need to vomit.”

“Remarkable,” Sylvanas murmured, shaking her head, despite the smile that was slowly beginning to spread across her face. “Ridiculous. You’re lucky I like you.”

“Aw. I’d kiss you again but I don’t want to risk throwing up in your mouth.”

“Kisses can come later. For now, let’s just make sure you haven’t permanently damaged yourself.”

[mimisempai]

Come close, show me your scars, let us heal together

Summary

You might think it's another version of Sam comforting Bucky, but I promise it's not.

When the nightmare is a common memory where one is the executioner and the other the victim, how to support each other? Is it possible to heal together?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31571318

Words 2540 - Rating G

The Winter Soldier pulled on the wire with all his might to tear off one of Sam's wings.

Then with a powerful kick he pushed Sam off the top of the Helicarrier.

Buckyyyyy!

Saaaaam! Sam!

"Sam!"

Bucky woke up with a start, Sam's name on the lips.

He reached behind him, and fumbled until he encountered Sam's body.

Gradually the wave of relief replaced the wave of horror into which his nightmare had plunged him.

But could he really call a nightmare a vivid memory?

He must have been screaming loudly only in his mind, because Sam hadn't moved a muscle and was still asleep judging by the regularity of his breathing.

Bucky got up slowly so as not to wake him. He went into the kitchen, made himself a cup of tea, walked through the living room, grabbed a blanket as he passed and went to sit on the boardwalk.

Night terrors were not something unusual for him and Sam.

At the beginning of their life together, they were used to overcoming their nightmares alone, to waking up alone, and they didn't talk about it. They did everything not to wake the other, until one night during a nightmare more traumatic than others, Sam had woken Bucky by screaming.

As they talked that night, they realized the comfort they could give each other, that they no longer had to struggle alone.

And just like that, they established a kind of pattern, a way to overcome their trauma. In a rather well-oiled mechanism, one waking up the other, they prepared a cup of tea, a return to reality through domestic gestures, before going to sit on the boardwalk, the contemplation of the immutable lake helping them to regain their serenity. It was not uncommon for the rising sun to find them asleep against each other.

But tonight Bucky had not woken Sam.

He couldn't. Not when this nightmare was Sam's. Not when he was Sam's tormentor in this nightmare. How could he ask Sam to help him overcome this nightmare?

This nightmare that had actually happened.

Bucky looked down at his hands, it was those hands that had pushed Sam off the helicarrier.

He looked down at his hands, at his cursed arm, and felt as if he couldn't catch enough air, no matter how hard he breathed in, his lungs didn't seem to want to fill. His heart was beating wildly. He brought his hands to his chest in pain.

"Bucky..."

He opened his eyes, Sam was kneeling before him.

"Bucky, may I touch you?"

Bucky could do nothing but nod his head.

Sam simply placed his hands on his knees and said, "Concentrate on your breathing. Stay in the present Bucky."

"That's it, slowly, with me, inhale, two three, four, exhale, two, three, four." Sam repeated slowly, over and over, until Bucky found a steady breathing pattern.

"Are you with me Bucky?"

Bucky, still unable to answer out loud, nodded again.

"Can I let go for a second?"

Another nod.

Sam moved to sit behind Bucky, so that Bucky's back was resting on his chest. He covered them both with the blanket Bucky had brought with him and wrapped his arms around him.

"Lean against me and keep breathing with me, okay?"

Gradually he felt Bucky relax against him, and they stayed for long minutes like that.

Sam whispered after a moment, "Do you feel like talking about it?"

Bucky replied with a hoarse voice, "How? How can you hold me like that and be like that with me after what I did to you?"

"Bucky?"

"You almost died several times at my hands Sam, when I was the winter soldier, how can you stand my presence, how can you love me?"

Sam tightened his arms around Bucky and rested his forehead on his shoulder.

He took the time to think before answering.

To say he had no trauma from his fall from the helicarrier would be a lie, but this wasn't his first near death experience. His nightmares were more often due to his experience as a soldier and Riley's death.

This is what he said to Bucky before continuing, "Bucky, it's easy for me to love you because it wasn't you. Yes, I know at first I told Steve that you were one of those people that can't be saved. But I'm glad I was wrong. You're nothing like the one who was fighting me. You could grow your hair back, wear your mask, the same outfit, you wouldn't be him. You ask me how I can stand your presence Bucky. It's enough that I watch you live here, that I watch you play with the kids, help Sarah on the boat, chat with Carlos and especially the way you look at me Bucky, the way you look at me when you think I can't see you. In all of this I see you Bucky, not the winter soldier, not the man who pushed me from the helicarrier, or shot me, I see just you. The man I love."

He pressed a kiss to Bucky's hair. He let out a long sigh, and Sam felt him relax a little more against him.

"In my dream it was horrible, because I could see myself pushing you into the void and there was nothing I could do to stop myself."

"See, even your mind is telling you that it wasn't you. Yes, he is part of you. He left you with the memories of what he did, but it's not you. That's not who you are Bucky. I wouldn't have spent two years on the run for the Winter Soldier, but for Bucky Barnes I have."

Bucky turned his head and kissed him softly before resuming his position, leaning even further if it was possible into Sam's embrace.

"I love you Sam Wilson."

Sam tightened his arms around him just a little more and buried his face in Bucky's neck breathing in his scent, then asked, "Do you want to go back to bed?"

Bucky shook his head, "No, I want to stay here a little longer. Talk to me."

"Talk to you about what?"

"No wait, I have a better idea."

Bucky stood up and said to Sam with a wave of his hand, "Move along a little."

"Bucky... what are you..."

"Please Sam do as I ask."

Sam, having no idea of Bucky's intentions, did as he asked. Bucky took the position that Sam had with him. Sam sat between his legs, Bucky covered them with the blanket and hugged him the same way Sam had before.

Then he whispered in Sam's ear, "I want Sam Wilson to tell me something he has never told me before. You know everything about me, all my weaknesses, all my mistakes, all my pain, but there's a lot I don't know about Sam Wilson. What he's afraid of, what makes him sad, what makes him angry. So tell me something, tip the scales a little, you took care of me, let me show you that I can do the same for you too. That you can lean on me as much as I can lean on you. Anything, I won't judge you."

As Bucky spoke, Sam, feeling safe in his arms, was surprised himself at wanting to let go.

But the word, the name that swirled in his head, the one that haunted some of his nightmares, refused to pass his lips.

Bucky waited patiently, aware of Sam's inner struggle.

His years as a Winter Soldier or just because he was watching Sam since a long time, he had noticed the veil of sadness that passed over Sam's face when he mentioned his soldier past and specifically when he mentioned Riley.

Bucky figured it wasn't his place to ask. That Sam would talk when he needed to.

But tonight, when Sam once again had been supportive and proved how deep his feelings for Bucky were, Bucky had felt that this might be the perfect time.

When living with Sam, it was not hard to see how selfless he was.

Often to the detriment of his own needs.

But Bucky was there for that now. Bucky was ready to be the vessel for his anger, his struggles, his disappointments, his flaws, for all that the world could not see.

All he had to do was convince the man in question.

So he waited, patiently, tightening his hold every time he felt Sam hesitate.

Until Sam began to speak, his voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"Riley and I were pararescuemen working in the 58th Rescue Squadron. We were also both test pilots for the Falcon EXO-7. Our unit was on a mission to apprehend Khalid Khandil, a notable target in Afghanistan."

Bucky just put his hands on Sam's which were slightly trembling.

"Khandil was hiding in an area protected by soldiers using RPGs, preventing the U.S. Air Force from sending helicopters into the area. We had to infiltrate the area using EXO-7 Falcons, which allowed us much more movement than the helicopters. Riley was hit and killed by one of the RPGs, and there was nothing I could do to help him, I just watched him die. I don't think I've ever so much in my life experienced a sense of helplessness."

Sam made another pause, knowing that what he was about to confide in Bucky would not be easy for either of them.

"I didn't want to tell you about this just before, but I have to now, and I hope this won't make you feel any guiltier, but before you pushed me off the helicarrier, you threw Steve off before. And seeing him fall like that, in that moment I felt for a split second as helpless as the day I lost Riley."

For a moment Bucky wondered how many more times he would have to face the consequences of his actions when he was the Winter Soldier. But he soon collected himself because it wasn't about him now, it was about Sam.

"Oh Sam, I'm so sorry." he tightened his embrace.

"I didn't say that to make you apologize, I just want you to know that the worst nightmare I have of this moment is not my fall but Steve's. Steve was able to make it, but Riley... Riley wasn't a super soldier, we didn't have super powers, just our wings, and he fell just like that. It should have been me, I..."

Sam couldn't go on. His throat was tight, he could no longer speak.

Bucky simply said, "Let it go, Sam."

Sam muttered something, his voice so low that Bucky was not able to understand.

"Hm?"

"I don't know how... I'm fighting so hard to be strong that I don't know how to let go."

"Wait..." Bucky turned Sam around, who complied, so that he was facing him, then put the blanket around them. He cradled Sam's head under his chin and tightened his arms around him, then whispered into Sam's hair.

"Sam, you don't have to be strong all the time. And especially not here, with me, in my arms. I'm right here. Let me be strong for you. I promise I won't let you down. Let go, I've got you."

Sam closed his eyes and bit his lip, trying to calm himself against everything that threatened to overwhelm him. He was so ready to give in and Bucky's words were potentially the thing that could push him over the edge. He let out a shaky breath and let himself be engulfed by the sensations, in the safety of the strong arms that were wrapped around him, solid and secure, not remembering if since his father, he had felt such a strong sense of security in someone's arms.

There was nothing to stop the tears now, and he tried as hard as he could to hold them back, unable to stop them. He buried his face in Bucky's chest, the tears now uncontrollable. Bucky hugged him even tighter and gently stroked his back, whispering words of encouragement and comfort into his hair. They stayed like that for a long time and as morning approached, Sam loosened up a bit from Bucky, took a breath and wrapped his arms around himself, looking at Bucky, whose expression was nothing but understanding and acceptance.

"I... I didn't think I still had all this pain in me, or rather I did, but I didn't know I needed to express it. I thought moving on would be enough. You know, Riley was exceptional, I think I even had a crush on him, he had this optimism and hope in people. I don't know if that's why he became a rescuer, but he believed that everyone had a chance. He saw the good in everyone. So I thought it would be okay if I continued, behaving in a way that honored his memory, that it would help me grieve."

"But that didn't help you, did it? Not until you faced it. It still affects you, you know that. I've seen it." Bucky said softly.

"I'm not denying it, but I didn't think taking the time to think about it, sharing it with someone would help me. It's just... I've been dealing with it on my own for so long, buried it for so long that to suddenly be confronted with it is...unsettling."

Bucky brushed a hand across his cheek, wiping a tear that lingered in the corner of Sam's eye with the tip of his thumb.

"I know Sam. Believe me I know."

"Just because you know, it makes it a little easier," Sam said quickly, grabbing Bucky's hand and intertwining his fingers with his. "It's so hard and painful, but you help me. You of all people know what it's like to feel guilty when rationally you know you're not."

Bucky continued to hold Sam's hand tightly, scrutinizing his face, torn between overwhelming elation that Sam had been able to trust him so much, and bitter sadness that he needed to. His need to protect Sam was stronger than ever and it broke his heart to think of the pain Sam must have carried inside him without being able to express it.

Because words were not enough to describe the emotion that was overwhelming him, he lifted Sam's chin and chose to express everything he felt in another way. He took Sam's face in his hands and pressed soft kisses to his cheeks before putting his lips to Sam's and kissing him gently and slowly. Sam put his arms around Bucky and responded to the kiss with the same gentleness until Bucky broke the kiss and said his mouth against Sam's.

"I love you."

Sam didn't answer, he just hugged Bucky tighter and put his head in his neck. They stayed in that embrace until the sun came up. They let its warm rays erase the last shadows of that night before returning to their home.

They were to face another day, together, their hearts happy to know that they would no longer face this life alone. That they would protect this life, together, with all the power, love and hope they possessed. ______

I'm still exploring their relationship, I know my writing is simple and wonky, but I'm learning.

Thank you for reading.

[solohux]

Thank you for these prompts, Lottie. “I don’t want to be claimed by anyone but you.” with omega Kylo and alpha Hux, please.

47-: “I don’t want to be claimed by anyone but you.”

In the middle of reviewing Captain Phasma’s newest squadron of elite stormtroopers, General Hux is summoned to the holochamber for a surprise meeting with the Supreme Leader. It isn’t out of the ordinary for Snoke to suddenly request the presence of his two co-commanders to, no doubt, bark commands at them to boost his own ego before ordering them on another menial mission to locate the map to Skywalker.

Hux rolls his eyes but makes his way to the holochamber anyway, meeting Kylo on the way there. As usual, the omega is dressed head-to-toe in his black robes, his young and handsome face hidden by that infernal mask, though Hux is partially grateful for it; without it, Kylo’s youthful looks and baby-face, as Hux calls it, precedes him and ruins his fierce reputation as the ‘Jedi Killer’. Plus, Hux takes great enjoyment from the fact that only he is permitted to look upon Kylo’s face and body; a privilege of being Kylo’s almost-mate.

“I don’t like this,” Kylo says, halting outside of the grand doors to the holochamber. “I sense something.”

“Maybe it’s your heat approaching,” Hux says, taking hold of Kylo’s hand and gently pulling his glove off a little to gain access to his wrist, feeling it for a fever. “We said we were going to go away when you next fell into heat, remember? To that spa on Lagoonia.”

“I remember,” Kylo says, and Hux can just tell that the omega is smiling.

“To make things official,” Hux glances down. “If that’s—”

Kylo pulls his hand free from the alpha’s hold and closes the gap between them until they’re chest-to-chest, “It’s all I want, Hux. To be claimed by you, to be yours.”

Hux smiles, reaching up to smooth his hand across the cheek of Kylo’s mask, moving to guide the omega into a kiss—though he just has to settle for pressing his lips to the cold forehead of Kylo’s mask; it’s enough for now.

“But that isn’t what I meant,” Kylo says, his voice laced with concern. “It’s the Force. It feels like it’s trying to warn me about something.”

“I’m sure it’s just some nervous jitters about this meeting. After what he did to you last time. Your bruises are still healing” Hux steps back and stands tall beside the omega, wanting to calm him with his presence and calm himself instead of thinking how Snoke brought physical punishment upon Kylo only a few days ago for an unsuccessful mission. “It’ll be over before you know it and we’ll be back in our chambers before dinner arrives.”

Kylo says nothing, just nods in silent agreement.

As soon as they step through the doors and enter the domineering gaze of their Supreme Leader, they hide their feelings for each other and become nothing more than bitter co-commanders. They both agreed that it’s safer this way, to keep their courtship and relationship from Snoke; the Leader would only disapprove and argue that their love is splitting their focus from their duties.

The alpha’s leering, blue hologram is already perched high on his massive throne when Hux and Kylo enter.

“Precisely on time,” Snoke chuckles. “Do you ever make mistakes, General Hux?”

“I like to think myself incapable of errors, Supreme Leader,” Hux announces proudly with his chin held high, fighting to keep his thoughts of Kylo from his mind. The pair stand on the raised platform at the end of the walkway, halting side-by-side—but not too close.

“Indeed,” Snoke turns his gaze upon Kylo. “I won’t ask my apprentice the same question. We know how much he seems to enjoy failing me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hux sees Kylo’s shoulders drop. The omega’s distressed scent is rolling off of him in waves, potent and worrying; as an alpha himself, Snoke must be able to smell it, to sense how afraid Kylo is of receiving more bruises and trauma.

“But that is beside the point,” Snoke says, sitting back in his throne. “I have called upon you both to share some…thrilling news.”

“We wait with held breath, Supreme Leader,” Hux says.

The old creature smiles a twisted grin, “I have been in touch with an old friend of mine, a true acolyte of the dark side. He is powerful, of royal Sith heritage, and a pure-blooded alpha.”

“Impressive,” Hux nods, feigning interest.

“That he is, General Hux. He is strong with the Force and a great leader. An alpha that many crave to destroy but he triumphs over enemies with ease. He shall be a tremendous asset to our cause. But, a man of such prowess and talent comes with a price.”

Hux is already coming up with his argument against this plan inside of his own mind, knowing that their budget will not be able to afford whatever this old disciple is asking for.

“And his price?” Snoke leans forward, and the horrific realisation hits Hux like a punch to the gut. “He wants you, Kylo. My young omega.”

“No.” Hux answered without thinking, without a moment’s thought about their secret relationship.

“No?” Snoke parrots. “How dare you question my authority, General.”

“This isn’t right,” Hux says, stepping forward in front of Kylo, holding an arm out as though shielding him from the prospect of being married off to another alpha but his logical mind quickly prevails with a more convincing argument from someone who is meant to dislike Kylo. “What you’re suggesting, it’s…it would be detrimental to the hierarchy of the First Order. Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren is an integral part of our plans for rule, as much as it pains me to admit. We need him as he is.”

“Kylo has failed me one too many times, General,” Snoke yells in his powerful alpha voice, making Kylo cower. “If he is enough of a whore that he will spread his legs for you—a bastard, runt of an alpha—then he shall do this.”

Hux’s blood runs cold. He steps back until he bumps into Kylo, feeling the omega’s heavy breaths from his heaving chest.

“Yes. I know of your intimacy outside of these doors,” the commanding alpha sneers. “You think you could hide it from me. I see everything in Kylo’s mind for he is my weapon, my property. If I command him to bow then he will do it.”

Hux’s stomach twists, begging, “No, Supreme Leader—”

“Bow, omega! Bow before your one, true master!”

“No, Kylo!” Hux turns just to see his almost-mate fall to his knees, catching himself on his hands and somehow looking like a lost kitten instead of a hulking knight as he surrenders to the power of Snoke’s alpha-voice. Hux stares at his omega with angered tears in his eyes, willing him to get up and fight back against this evil creature before them. But he doesn’t. Kylo doesn’t move.

Snoke laughs, the terrible sound echoing around the chamber, “See, General? Kylo is nothing more than a pup who needs to be given orders. And my alpha acolyte will keep him in his place with a claim mark upon his pretty neck. Perhaps a litter or two in his belly.”

Hux seethes with rage, wishing he had his blaster on him to take a well-aimed shot between Snoke’s eyes. He won’t allow this to happen, he can’t.

“And should you interfere in this arrangement,” Snoke says, standing up tall and towering over Hux. “Then I shall strip our young omega of everything he has—his power, his sanity—and then make him watch as I kill you, General Hux. I can give you a preview of his torture now if you so wish.”

Hux scrunches his nose up in pure rage but keeps a relatively calm tone, “That won’t be necessary.”

Snoke seems convinced, “Good. The acolyte will be aboard in three days to meet with his new mate and to claim him. I suspect he will like his prize to be in heat as he claims him so be a good soldier and arrange that, hm? An appointment with medbay for a heat-inducing injection will be sufficient.”

“Understood.”

Snoke’s horrid, victorious laughter echoes as the hologram fizzes out and leaves the two co-commanders alone in the empty chamber. As soon as the Leader is gone, Hux drops to his knees beside Kylo and cups both sides of his helmeted face.

“Ren?” Hux says, terrified that the news of being forced to become mated to another alpha has broken his mind. “Ren? Kylo, please talk to me. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. Just talk to me.”

Kylo says nothing but Hux can see the trembling of his shoulders, the quiet sounds of crying from behind the safety of his mask. With great care, Hux’s fingers find the parallel clasps of the helmet and he gently pushes them to lift it away from Kylo’s face, letting his dark hair fall into place before casting the mask aside. As expected, the omega is crying, tears coating his pale cheeks in rivets and his bottom lip trembling as he fails to hold in his sobs.

“Kylo,” Hux says softly, cupping his cheeks and pressing their foreheads together. “I won’t let anyone touch you.

“A-Armitage,” Kylo says in a shuddering breath, and Hux freezes: Kylo never calls him by his first name. Hux had even begun to doubt whether his almost-mate knows his name, but the omega has just uttered it in the most desperate, pleading tone that Hux has ever heard him speak in. “I don’t want to be claimed by anyone but you.”

“You won’t be,” Hux says, lifting Kylo’s head up so that they can meet each other’s gazes. The omega has never looked more lost than he does in this moment, not even when he stepped off of the Night Buzzard and into Hux’s life like a tornado, one that the alpha is glad to have been ruined by.

“But you heard him,” Kylo sniffles. “Three days.”

“That’s plenty of time,” Hux says, wiping away Kylo’s tears with his finger, kissing his cheeks where the droplets were. “Accidents can happen within seconds.”

“Accidents?”

“Indeed,” Hux shrugs, taking off his greatcoat and wrapping it around Kylo’s trembling shoulders, hoping that the omega will be comforted by his scent. “Slipping and falling onto a dagger multiple times, being electrocuted by a high-spec baton. The list could go on.”

Kylo laughs. It’s the most beautiful sight and sound that Hux could wish to witness right now in this seemingly dark moment. The alpha sighs, taking in the overwhelming sadness in the omega’s dark eyes, feeling a fire burning in his own; a hungry fire that will only be satiated by Snoke’s spilt blood.

“I love you, Armitage,” Kylo says softly, placing his hands on top of Hux’s where they still cup his cheeks. It’s the first time that he’s uttered those simple but tremendous, heartfelt words, and Hux doesn’t hesitate in saying them back.

“I love you, Kylo Ren.” Hux swears that he can already feel Kylo’s presence inside of his mind as though there’s a bond in place already, feeling the omega’s intense grief turn to happiness as they lean in to kiss, desperately clinging on to each other in the middle of the empty holochamber.

Both the Supreme Leader and the so-called alpha acolyte will not lay a finger upon Kylo, not as long as Hux still has breath. He swears to the stars that he’ll end them both for coming up with such a malicious plan for Kylo.

Three days to plan, three days to execute.

Hux has never failed yet, he isn’t going to taint his perfect record now.

[suckerx]

Cheaters don't cheat because they disrespect you. They disrespect themselves.

Sure, we can debate about monogamy vs polygamy all day. But that's another thing for future Ris to think about.

Let's circle back on how life has been this year. I was killing it at the start of the year, a job that pays more than my peers, dealing with celebrities, giving directions to brands on obtaining more businesses, having quality sponsorships on social media. I wanted more though. I wanted to earn more. Left my job to be a banker– go where the money is, right? Honestly I could see myself excelling it too. But is that what I really want? I wanted to be self made.

Then, I fell in love, fast and deep. All or nothing. I think a part of me never thought I could. I always thought somehow stars will align and my first love will circle back eventually, no matter how long it took. Silly. Because it's been 5 years. Somehow with the second love, that thought that was seeped into my brain faded. This boy, Jj, made being with him so intoxicating that it felt addictive. Charming, smart, chivalrous, mysterious with a hint of cockiness and elitism – just the way I like it. Said the right words, executed the right moves – Of course, this comes with experience. Hosted my family at his work place, I eventually opened up to horrible things that has haunted me. Things he couldn't empathise but he sympathised well. My love language is quality time and when we both live 3 minutes drive away from each other, it was convenient and easy. I felt the most confident I ever was, as though the world was my oyster.

Why was it intoxicating? He tried to make me obsessed. Added competition in, casually reminding me the tons of suitors he has – classy, boasting about how you thrive on constant validation from everyone, shows your lack of self-esteem, no? Little does he know that I knew this all too well. My self-worth isn't determined by the number of men who want my attention, hoping to get a number. It wasn't easily shaken that way. I love solitude too much.

However, I showed my cards too soon and became defenceless. He knew that my insecurity stems from one of my best qualities– made it a flaw, something detrimental to him and our relationship. So eventually he cracked, we fell apart and I tried to fix it since it was my flaw that landed us here in the first place. That made it addictive because after spending the best time together, when I finally felt safe and truly the happiest I've ever been, he whips out that card and I was soon to be found at the lowest I've ever been. It made me desperate– to have that "high" merely grazing past me. I was determined to show my second love that he could trust me, I was fixated to make us work. Effort. Everyone around him loved me. His family treated me well - they knew I wasn't an airhead like the rest, they knew I was good for him.

Unfortunately, being a sloppy drunk makes one careless. You're less strategic and I saw the signs that my second love was never really committed to me. His ex girlfriends were still obsessed with him – I don't blame them because a sane person will only reach out when he made himself easily available for them. They're naive enough to think that he's the one that got away. He was never over his past love, Gloria, that he was trembling over how he mistreated her. She's no saint though, she reached out to him while being in a relationship with someone else after seeing us together, questioning about their promises made to each other. He was also on his next pursuit, Vanni. He met her at the very work event he hosted my family dinner at. She was working then and served my family. She's not as innocent as she tries to convince herself and everyone else either. There were speculations of who I was to Jj at his work place– everyone who worked there knew he bought us dinner. Everyone saw that I separated ways with my family and went home with him, holding hands. She soon found out that he was dating someone else when they hung out, when he sent her home frequently.

On nights that I wasn't available, he was with her. As naive as I am, I am perfectly secure and had no doubts at first. Then I saw how drunk him described her, how he took a pause when I was running to hug him to reply her texts. I knew something was up. Eventually it came to light that "I love you" texts have been exchanged. I confronted him about being a cheater.. and he laughed. Cheating breaks my heart because I grew up in that environment. It broke my heart even more because his trust issue with my "flaw" came from his past when he got cheated on. It was painful.

I met Vanni in person though. I hosted her at my place, wanting to know the truth since I knew I could never get it out from Jj. The day he met my family was the day that he asked her for her number. His daily routine was: wake up, work, have coffee with Vanni, work, send her home, pick me up and we'd spend the night together at his place. Repeat. He held her hand for the first time the day that he told me he's determined to not let his demons ruin our relationship, the day he wanted to commit.

A week after, I had the closure I wanted though. I missed him. We met again, I spent the night, showed him what I have been occupied with – a business idea, pitched to his mom, his grandmother wanted to include me into the family plans of making dumplings. I felt as though I was the light of his house. He sent me back and asked me to catch a movie with him that night, told me that he loved me again. I declined for the first time.

The next day, Vanni was at my place for the second time because he shattered again, they broke off and she was blocked. Even when she proclaimed that he doesn't matter to her, that he's a plaything to her, I knew it was more than meets the eye since she's at his ex's place, seeking comfort. I gave her the timeline and how much our relationships overlapped. Conversations became stale and I had an inkling that he was at the hills where I brought him. We went there and I was right. She went to acknowledge his presence at the corner of the hill while I stayed on top. He came up though, surprised that his 2 worlds collided, proclaimed thrice that he loves me and hurried off.

All of them couldn't be trusted. I blocked all of them.

I've seen my ex around a lot. At the hill, at a random bar, I saw his car parked outside the pub that's illegally opened after hours. I bumped into his mom at the hill too. I told him that I still think that he's a great person. The last time I saw him, he told me his colleagues were asking about our situation because of silly TikTok, his grandmother was asking for me, that time when his friend bumping into me, he boasted that he dated me to others in his industry because of who my dad was (Which I never once mentioned while we were dating), he told me he's leaving his job and gave me a warning that someone's stealing my business idea. He sent me home and my mom was there. Thank goodness.

Weeks later, I was down the rabbit hole. Questioned my dad why he cheated and didn't choose me but a big fat check every month. Questioned everything. I found out that not only was I the girl he cheated on, but also the rebound. Jj tattooed his ex-girlfriend's face on his arm after we dated. My heart sank.

Time does heal nonetheless.

[hadesglance]

All hail the new Queen... - 30

You fought your way through the maze of the underworld to make a deal with the King…intrigued the lonely king listens…

Part One  Part Two  Part Three  Part Four  Part Five  Part Six Part Seven  Part Eight   Part Nine  Part Ten  Part Eleven Part Twelve  Part Thirteen  Part Fourteen  Part Fifteen  Part Sixteen Part Seventeen  Part Eighteen  Part Nineteen   Part Twenty  Part Twenty-One   Part Twenty-Two  Part Twenty-Three  Part Twenty-Four  Part Twenty-Five  Part Twenty-Six  Part Twenty-Seven  Part Twenty-Eight  Part Twenty-Nine

THIS WAS HARD...so hard...but here it is! Please enjoy! and i love you all for sticking with me! Not edited cause I was just too excited I pumped it out!

You stood looking into the dark…rough…route that you were about to take. You swallowed already beginning to feel the effects of the Underworld. Your fears were creeping in on you, your insecurities suffocating, and every bit of darkness trying to blind you.

“This is madness…” Poseidon spoke shaking his head, “you can’t really be thinking of sending her in there…into Tartarus were even we will go mad if subjected to it long enough…”

“What choice do we have?” Zeus crossed his arms staring into the darkness, “She’s the only one who can…”

“She’s human!” Poseidon cried out.

“And she can hear you.” You turned around looking at both of them. You crossed your arms letting out a tense sigh, “Instead of finding all of my weaknesses…tell me about what I’m going to face.”

Zeus looked over to Apollo who was standing off to the side staring into the darkness, “Apollo…”

Apollo took a deep breath in taking a step toward the open doorway of Tartarus, “It’s a cold place…in every sense of the word…Tartarus will take everything you hate about yourself and use it to attack you.”

He looked at you with a frown, “Every fear, every doubt, every regret…it will surround you and try to break you.”

“So, I need to be fast…the longer I stay the harder it will be…” You looked back out taking in a deep breath, “Is there a map of this place?”

“A map? Why would there be a map…souls that are damned here are meant to get lost inside…” Poseidon chuckled looking at Zeus to back him up. His brother was silent as he stared at you, “…there’s a map!?”

Zeus let out a sigh offering his hand to you, “Come with me.”

There was no hesitation as you took his outstretched hand disappearing with him into dark stacks. You watched him snap his fingers and a lantern floated down from above, “Where are we?”

“The library.” He told you catching the lantern with his hand and began walking forward, “It’s where we keep all the records…”

“Records for what?” You looked up at him seeing the blue glow cast off his face and when he didn’t answer you asked a different question, “When I asked about a map you got very serious, Zeus…what’s going on?”

“I’m going to show you something,” He turned down a row that led to a hallway. Everything felt very ominous, “I want you to know everything before you make a final decision to rescue my brother.”

“Zeus there isn’t…” He raised a hand silencing you.

“I know you love him. I know he loves you.” He smiled at you sadly, “But I have to do this to honor him. He would want you to know everything and make an informed decision.”

He moved into a small room that only held a desk and chair. It reminded you of one private study rooms in the campus library. He set the lantern down showing it scattered with papers and scrolls. He looked up to you waving for you to take a seat.

You watched him as you moved around the desk to the chair. You had never seen Zeus so serious before and it worried you, “Zeus…”

“Read this…” He pushed a piece of paper towards you.

You swallowed as he also pushed the lantern over toward you. Pick up the piece of paper you seeing what looked like gibberish. You were about to tell him you couldn’t, but the letters slowly ignited transforming in front of you becoming legible.

“The doors will open, when the moment comes that summer ends, the young one shall cause a rise of faith and an age of justice. Mortal blood will spill in the halls of Olympus, upon that night the exiled one will awaken in his cage.” You felt your hand tremble a little slowly connecting the dots more and more, “The monster will break his chains bringing pain as he steps back into this world, seeking vengeance. The old one will walk away, as the newcomer’s sacrifice marks the rise of hope, upon that day what was shrouded will be revealed…”

You looked up at him setting the paper down, “What sacrifice must I make?”

“I don’t know.” Zeus frowned shaking his head, “But it will be a big one…you’re dealing with a titan and he is nothing but hungry. Y/N it will be meant to hurt both you and Hades.”

You felt something shift inside of you when he said that last bit, “Okay…and even if I get Hades out…it doesn’t seem like we defeat Cronus…”

“Which is why if you give us time…” Zeus spoke but fell silent as you shot out of the chair.

“Time is something Hades doesn’t have!” Your voice raised, “Even now…Cronus is doing unfathomable things to Hades…to my husband…Zeus…Please…”

He stared at you for a long time before he turned slightly from you, “Hecate…”

You looked over toward the entrance seeing the goddess emerge form the dark hall. She held a scroll in her hands looking at you, “Have you made your choice then?”

You looked at Zeus then back to her, “I have…”

You watched her step forward again holding the scroll out to you, “I have held onto this map for a very long time. Hades had me seal it away after he mapped it out all those ions ago. I doubt it is accurate anymore as Tartarus lives and changes as any living thing does. But if you’re willing to bring back the King of the Underworld and know the risks…then you have only but to take it from me.”

You reached out taking if from them both, “Why must everything be so dramatic with you all?”

“Because it has to be a choice.” Zeus spoke softly as you began to unroll the scroll, “If we just gave it to you…it would be a task given, not a choice wanted. You chose to seek Hades for help, willing to give up everything for your brother. You chose to learn about him. You chose to love him.”

You understood, but to you it was so obvious what the choice was, you didn’t understand why they wasted the time. You moved the lantern to the corner of the map to hold it open. You took in a deep breath, “That…is…a mountain.”

“If you can’t do it…it’s alright. We’ll find another…” Zeus stepped toward you shaking his head.

“I didn’t say I couldn’t do it.” You looked at him edge in your voice, “Far from it…I need you to take me home.”

You had a map…you had the drive…you swallowed as you looked back into Tartarus. Take a final deep breath in you turned back to everyone, “I’ll be back…with Hades.”

“Wait…” Apollo stepped forward producing a bow from behind his back, “Take this…”

You looked it in your hands shaking your head, “I don’t know how to use one of these…I can’t…”

“It will do the work for you.” He smiled a little placing a hand on you shoulder getting you to look at him, “I was the god of archery before many of the other things I learned about…just make sure you shoot from the heart.”

“See…you go and give her a gift and ruin my entrance…” Poseidon stepped forward as you set the bow and it’s quiver against your leg, “I’d give you my trident…but I’m a bit partial to it…so instead you get this.”

“A shell necklace…” You looked at him eyes widening as he held out a string of small shells hooked together, “…thank you?”

“Don’t give me that stupid look.” He shook his head smirking a little, “ You ever wonder why you can hear the ocean inside them? This necklace was created to keep people from entering your mind.  Now it’s Tartarus, so I doubt it’ll be a hundred percent effective but…hopefully it’ll help a little bit.”

“Poseidon…” You looked at it in your hands before you smiled putting it over your head, “Thank you, I’ll make sure to return it.”

“Ugh you two are awful…” You looked up again seeing Zeus push through the both of them smirking a little, “acting like this is some detrimental plan…You’re going to be fine, right?”

“Yes, even more so with their gifts.” You tried to give him a brave smile, “I think everything is set then…”

Zeus frowned taking your hands in his, “You don’t have to do this…”

You slowly took your hands from his, “You’re right…I was meant to do this.”

You turned from him before anyone of them could say anything else. Draping the quiver across your back with the bow as you strode toward the mountain bike you traded Lana for. Throwing you leg over it you zipped up the leather jacket before glancing back over your shoulder at the three gods.

Three powerful beings resting hope on a human’s shoulder to save their brother from the deepest depths of the Underworld. You looked away before you started to cry pulling the helmet over your head strapping it on. You had to believe it was all meant to be. You were the one who made a deal with the King of the Underworld to be by his side.

Afterall you were Queen of the Underworld, right?

The engine roared with power. You stared through the gate at the climb you were about to make. By studying the map, you were sure you could make a good distance before Tartarus really began to affect you. Of course, you could only get so far with the bike, it would get narrower the closer you got to the center and you would have to walk.

You were about to push off when you heard someone yell out behind you, “Wait!”

“Percy?” You cut the engine as Persephone ran forward to the three gods. Zeus shook his head looking down at your, “Darling what are you doing here?”

“Athena…she…” Percy looked over to you breathless, “She wanted…Y/N…”

Zeus looked down at his daughter seeing what was in her arms and nodded, “I see…”

You watched him take worn out cape from her arms and walk toward you, “Zeus…”

“Do you know what this is?” He asked you, holding it in his hands.

“I can guess yes…” You frowned a little, “I don’t want to lose something like that…Aegis is a too much…”

“It’s not my gift to give you…and believe me you don’t want to be on Athena’s bad side.” Zeus took it wrapping it around your shoulders clasping it on your shoulder, “Aegis isn’t a normal shield like you mortals think…I wore it when I first met everyone when rescuing them, and I didn’t know it’s power then. It’s fitting that you use against our father again.”

“Zeus…” You could feel this warmth spread through you as you touched the hem of it, “…I’m losing my courage.”

“Then I suppose it’s time for you to go.” He leaned forward kissing your forehead, it burned and somehow you knew he was blessing you, “I really like you…so please be smart.”

He shut the visor before you respond to him. Smart…sure…you were just heading into what was basically hell…cool. He was right though; it was time to go.

You didn’t look back after you started the bike this time. Instead you swallowed trying to wet your dry throat before you revved the engine a couple times before releasing the brake. You rocketed off spinning out slightly before gaining control.

The incline approached quickly. You gave it more gas as it began to get steeper and steeper. Already you could feel cold seeping into your body. You were not meant for this place and it was letting you know. You ignored it keeping your eyes narrowed swerving around boulders and crumbling away sections.

You felt like gravity was beginning to push back at you as the incline only got more intense. You gritted your teeth pushing the bike as far as you could. A flash sparked in front of your eyes and you were falling over the edge of the cliff with the bike. You felt your stomach jump to your throat as you began to fall.

A flash again and you were back to riding. Somehow you knew it was about to happen…you pushed the bike to it’s max and soon you saw the foreseen cliff. You felt the bike catch air from the speed. It wasn’t enough though.

Grunting you pushed yourself away from the bike reaching out. You landed hard against the cliffside clutching onto it desperately. You cried out as everything muscle pulled your dead weight over the edge. You rolled away from the side breathing hard before sat up pulling off the helmet.

Cursing you stood up looking over the edge at the broken bike below. Your brow began to tingle a little bit. You let your fingers brush over the spot where Zeus had kissed you, “Thank you…”

You turned back to the rest of Tartarus as your breath floated out from your like small trail. You adjusted the special gifts on your body before you began walking forward. You had made a good distance. Not how far you wanted to get, and you wanted the bike for an escape plan…

But what good Greek myth was ever easy.

You began to climb feeling your limbs only get colder with each step. You kept repeating over and over to yourself, “Hold on Hades, I’m coming.”

A slow mantra that seemed to get you through the rest of the climb. Shaking you made it to the summit. You sat there feeling exhausted and broken. You crazy to do this…

“Stop…” You shook your head getting to your feet leaning against a boulder.

But you were crazy. You were worse then that you were stupid…who goes to a god and makes a deal with them without knowing what to offer. What an idiot…the arrangement had only brought you heartache. You could have had another year with your father had you not been by his side…

“Stop.” You gritted your teeth shaking your head as you pushed yourself forward, “That’s not true…”

Of course, it was true. You could have offered him anything. You were to eager to help your brother…too eager to please…

The inner monologue of doubt and self-worthlessness continued with each bitter cold step. You only found yourself stopping once almost breaking down, but that was when you heard the laughter. You knew its owner and a fire raged inside of you that made you run.

You ran toward it skidding around a corner pulling the bow out from behind you with an arrow thinking of the target in mind. The laughter only grew louder as you entered dark hallways only lit by blue flamed braziers.

“Oh my…is that supposed to scare me.” You heard bounce against the walls as you raised the bow up a little, “They certainly decked you out in what they could, didn’t they?”

“They care about me…something you wouldn’t understand.” You growled a little, eyes narrowing as you searched the shadows for any signs of him.

“Correction.” His voice hit the walls like falling ice, “They care about you enough…they only want Hades back…”

“That’s not true…” You turned the corner, “If that’s all they wanted why waste such powers on me?”

“So, you do recognize what you have…hm that’s good.” You felt breath on the back of your neck. You spun quickly hearing him laugh as you released the arrow, “You’re gonna have to be faster than that…Oh wait…your human, so you can’t.”

“Where is he?!” You shouted out hearing your own voice bounce off the walls.

“Oh…is that all you want? He’s over here…” You turned again seeing the flames brighten and large alter appeared. Attached to the altar was Hades, arms chained to each end. His head was hanging, his normally well-kept appearance bloody and dirty.

You ran to him dropping the bow next to you as your reached up to his face, “Hades…Hades, it’s me…it’s Y/N, please…”

“Oh, how sweet…the human truly loves him.” You froze hearing footsteps behind you. You pressed your forehead against Hades’ as Cronus spoke again, “It makes me want to vomit that my son has reduced himself to someone of your species…”

“Let him go.” You hissed turning your head toward him feeling your eyes burn with angry tears.

“Well, well! You are motivated…” He laughed as he turned from you, “I don’t think I will though. He hasn’t learned his lesson yet.”

You don’t know what came over you as your reached down for the bow. In a swift motion you drew back another arrow launching it at the Titan. Your eyes widened as he turned grabbing the arrow in the arrow. He looked down seeing the tip hand just pierced his chest over his heart.

“Hm…” He threw the arrow to the side before whisping right up to you grabbing your roughly by the throat. His eyes were dark as his whispered, “I am time itself…you think I didn’t know what you were going to do? You think I don’t know how far you’re willing to go?”

You swallowed feeling his fingers burn against your neck as a tear fell down your cheek, “What do you want?”

“There we go…” He took his other hand wiping the tear away with his thumb before sticking it into his mouth. His eyes shut as he made a satisfied noise, “Mm! There is nothing like the desperate tears of a lover…makes for the best ingredients, did you know that?”

He threw you back roughly against the floor in front of Hades before he went on, “If my son had even a smidge of the fire I just saw in you…we would never have been here. I almost had him refined into the god he should have been. Rhea coddled him too much. Made him soft…”

“He is not…” You looked at him shaking your head, “He’s what keeps the world in balance! He believed by almost every single belief system. He is who he has always meant to be!”

You looked at Hades seeing a soft glow around him, “He is everything I love…and I wouldn’t want him to be anything else. So please…”

Cronus watched you stand up and turn slowly to him clenching your first, “What…do you want?”

“…” You watched as a sick and twisted smile grew on Cronus’ face before he turned in a circle, “What do I want? That is the question isn’t…you see I want a lot, but that’s not for you to know…so…to appease me now well…”

He stopped in front of you holding out his hand to you smirking, “Let’s…make…a deal…”

You looked surprised which made the Titan laugh, “You didn’t think he was the one who created deals first, did you? Do you know how often my family wanted things changed and forgotten?”

The words hung in the air for a moment. You finally looked away from him crossing your arms, “Fine…Terms first…I take Hades home. To his family. Without any problems and you never do this to him again.”

“Oh, strong term.” He smirked bringing his hanging hand to his chin crossing the other across his chest, “I can accept all of that…if…”

You waited for it. You knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant, but you didn’t expect how cruel he could be, “…by the time you leave Tartarus you forget Hades.”

“What?” You stared at him, “Forget him?”

“Every step you take…” Cronus stepped toward you letting his hands flutter out from him, “A memory will fade away ceasing to exist…you have no recollection of him or his siblings by the time you leave…”

“Why?” You felt yourself tearing up looking back at Hades’ broken form, “Why are you so cruel?”

“Because he took everything from me! Now I’ll take everything from him!” You hissed in pain as Cronus grabbed your arm roughly. Light exploded pushing him away from you and you heard him cry out in pain.

You looked down at the cloak around you. It shimmered purple as handprints appeared all over it. Hades’ handprints. Aegis became what you needed in the heat of battle. Even hanging by a thread Hades was still protecting through is love. You swallowed before you nodded knowing exactly what had to be done.

“Deal.” You whispered seeing surprise ripple over his features, “I need Hades in the world…just as much as the world does. If forgetting him brings him back…then I’ll do it.”

“Well then…” He stepped forward holding out his hand to you, “Let us seal the deal.”

You reached out with no hesitation as you looked into his eyes taking his hand firmly, “Then it’s done.”

“So, shall it be.” The sound of chains falling behind you made you turn. Cronus gripped your hand tightly pulling you back to him, “Don’t try to find a way out of this…”

“I don’t intend to.” You pulled your hand from him turning to the slumped Hades. He wasn’t awake and you had to figure out how to get him out of here.

“Tick tock dear…you don’t want to be here forever do you?” Cronus spoke gleefully as you hoisted Hades’ arms over your shoulders.

His face brushed against yours as you took a step forward. You felt a shiver run over your skin as a fade image of him leaning over you helping you with homework just seemed to trail away into dust. You felt your lip tremble a little as you began to walk forward.

It was just as he said…memories began to fade away. The first stretch was the hardest. It seemed to take every little thing he’d do around you. The things you secretly enjoy. The way he sipped tea while reading. How you’d catch him staring at you and look away embarrassed.

The second stretch as you reached the summit was hard but it seemed more targeted. Conversations you had with him began to disappear. Moments where he made you felt safe above everything else. You collapsed feeling the tears flow freely down your face as saw the cliffside ahead of you.

You looked at Hades before pulling him into your lap. Frowning as you swallowed down a sob as you brushed his hair from his face, “I love you…”

He looked to be in rough shape, but he was breathing and deep down you prayed he could hear you, “I love you…don’t ever think that I didn’t. So much so…that’s why this hurts so much…”

You leaned down kissing him before you started to cry holding him to your chest. You hated this…you hated you did this to yourself, but the world needed him. You needed him to be in the world…You sniffed sitting up hoisting him up again as you looked at the cliffside wondering how you were going to manage this.

As you stood up balancing him against you, you felt a rumble through the ground. You looked over as a boulder fell away revealing a path. You let out a sigh shaking your head looking around at Tartarus, “If this you pitying me…thank you…”

You moved down the path slowly. It took you down to wear the remains of the dirt bike was. You frowned feeling another memory fade…Bay of Kotor…moped…

What? You looked at Hades’ face shaking your head as you kept moving. You had to keep moving. You had to get him home.

You legs screamed as you pulled him up the path to the steep incline you entered on. It was all downhill here. You shut your eyes clutching him to your chest as you felt his head slide into the crook of your neck.

You gasped as the image of being his room clutching to you as you were an anchor keeping him safe from the nightmares. You swallowed down the pain your heart felt and the pain your body reminded you of as you stood up again. You didn’t have the words anymore…

You descended carefully as you could, but with the weight of him your footing slipped out from underneath you. You pulled him to your shielding him with your body until you both stopped at the bottom. You were sure something was broken as you moved to look at him.

You let out a whimper as felt another pivotal memory slip away…the spring festival…his kiss… in front of everyone…As you looked at him you felt all the warmth you felt around him begin fade away. You pushed yourself up grabbing his arm putting it around shoulder as you looked forward.

The exit was there…it was so close and yet you didn’t know why you were doing this…you didn’t know why you hurt to badly…and you couldn’t understand why these people yelling for you were waving so frantically. Were you in a race?

No…you looked down to the man next to you. A gentle smile came to your mind and disappeared as you felt a pair of strong arms grab hold of you as you fell forward. You looked at a very attractive man in front of hold you up, “Y/N…are you okay?”

“I…I don’t…” You looked around putting your hands on his arm looking over at a woman and two other men looking over the man that had been with you, “I don’t know?”

“What did he say?” The man holding you got your attention, “What did our father say? How did you get him back?”

“Who?” You squinted at the man watching his face fall as pain crept on you, “I think…I think I need to go to the hospital…”

“I…” The man nodded frowning as he looked back to the others, “We’ll get you there…just hold on…just…rest…”

With his voice washing over you, you felt your eyes slowly begin to shut as trickles of a conversation filled your mind.

“And what would offer in return for this miracle?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes?”

“Yes.”

“Your soul?”

“Yes.”

“That’s too easy. Your soul is already going to end up here eventually…No…I would need a real sacrifice.”

“Name it. Whatever the price is I’ll pay it.”

…

“I want…”

[primeemeraldheiress]

2, 5, and 15 for the fic asks?

What is your favorite snippet of dialogue?

I don’t think I have a single snippet. There’s too many exchanges I like... So have a smattering of my favs.

From Cry ‘Havoc’

“My queen.” The figure in black stood in front of the glowing ray shields. Unmoving and deadly patient.

“Did you mean it?” The words ripped themselves out of her mouth before she realized she was going to voice them. She almost wanted to take them back but it didn’t matter. At this point, nothing mattered.

The helmet — the visage of nightmares to many of her man, the herald of death to even more — tilted, confused.

“Every word I have spoken since we were trapped within the temple has been sincere.”

The air around them rang with truth. She didn’t understand how she knew that; she didn’t even care anymore. Something loosened in her chest and she could breathe again. She hadn’t even realized she had been struggling, her chest heaving as she took her first full breaths since the had news come in.

Her fist slammed into the panel next to the cell, bringing the shields down. Setting him loose. Her other hand curled around a blade, still humming that mournful — frighteningly familiar — tone.

“If you meant it,” she bit out, furious at the pirates, at the situation, at him, “bring them back.”

“I am yours.”

From The Corner of Divinity

“Your enemies are my enemies.” The man said, his voice rough. “I have brought you your most hated foe to do with as you will. A gift in good will; in greatest care.”

“My greatest monster.” Jason stated, a tremble in his voice.

“Your greatest fear.”

“My greatest fear.” Jason agreed as he slowly took the blade, examining it. He tested its weight and balance. Tested the sharpness of the blade. Each part of this ceremony was important. Carried weight. Meant something. From the quality of the blade to the gift presented. Not that he ever thought Deathstroke himself would deign to own a substandard weapon. He hesitated just a moment. Only a moment. Then, he took Slade's hand back and placed the hilt of the knife back into it.

Staring into Slade’s eye, he voice low with intent he asked him, “Destroy it for me?”

From As Long As You Learn

“Master Yoda is right. We’ll do better this time, padawan.” Anakin slumps, falling back on his heels. “Come get your kid, Kenobi.”

From Pull Back The Curtain

“You can’t tell me, your majesty, that you don’t know what you’ve done.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and the cup he was holding clatters on the saucer as it’s placed back on the table.

“At least,” he says, a little more gently, “you were kind. I do have to thank you for that.”

Obi-Wan looks up at her, grief in his eyes but jaw clenched with still present fury. He tips his head at her in mock deference, “Thank you for being kind when you took my padawan to bed, Senator. No one else has been as conscientious.”

Her heart beats a frantic tattoo in her ears. What?

“What?” She croaks. Anakin... no one else... gentle? Separately, the words make sense but strung together she can’t parse their meaning. She doesn’t understand but the words that Obi-Wan is saying, everything he is implying, makes her think she’s supposed to.

Makes her think that all of this is supposed to be common knowledge.

What is she missing? What does everyone else know? Who should have told her?

Icy fingers crawl up her spine and her stomach turns. Something is very wrong.

Obi-Wan chuckles but there is no humor in the laugh. It is a dark thing. Almost poisonous as it leaves his mouth.

“Surely you didn’t think you had been the only one.”

There is something low and unpleasant threaded through his voice now. Something hateful. Padmé wishes for the restrained fury from before. Even though it had been directed at her then. Even though this hate now was not.

“Anakin has been a favorite of the Chancellor for several years now.”

From Best Laid Plans Not Sober

The boy’s grew wide and he looked at Jason in confusion, “I thought Alfred was our grandfather.”

“He is.” Jason affirmed.

He saw the older man place a hand to his chest out of the corner of his eye and his heart ached. He wanted to go to him... but making sure Damian understood was more pressing.

“Then why is he serving, akhi?” The boy demanded. “He should not be lowering himself to such a position!”

“Alfred serves because he loves us.” Jason explained patiently, cheeks still a swath of red but slowly fading. “He wants to take care of us and make sure we’re healthy. It’s how he shows his love.”

Damian tilted his head in thought. “Like when you killed the lion.” There was a sharp intake of breath from the table. Tim. Jason felt the flush renew. Great. That was the last piece of information he needed floating around the manor.

“Like when I killed the lion.” Jason affirmed with a resigned nod. “I’m a protector, like Dad. Alfie’s a carer. People have different ways of showing their love. It’s not the only way they show it, but typically it’s what comes more naturally.”

“I understand.” The boy lowered his head. “I am sorry.”

“It’s not me you need to tell.” Jason chastised softly, “Either way, even if Alfie was staff and not family, I know I taught you better manners than that.”

“But Mother-”

“Is not here.” He stated firmly. He knew what kind of image they had to keep there. Knew what Talia said. “This is not Nanda Parbat. You do not have an image to uphold.” Jason continued, “Even when you do, manners are not a detriment to that image. Do you understand?”

“Not entirely.” The boy admitted. “But I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask. I will never demand more than your best effort.”

What’s your favorite headcanon you use in fics?

I have a whole host of them, actually. Though, some of them I only use for certain fics. I have a whole file on Tatooine worldbuilding that I’m slowly introducing to different verses. They’re getting a lot of screen time in Kidnapping AU, actually. I have headcanon reasons for Anakin wearing black and background info and ideas. I don’t actually want to give too much away, here, but I’d rather see you guys slowly be like “... O.O ThATS SO COOL” when you read it. 

And, I mean, Eli and I are now collaborating on a whole series of one of my favorite headcanons, Shmi had a wife. 

OH, WAIT --  my absolute FAVORITE headcanon that seems to make its way into everything is that the marble of the Temple feels warm to the touch if you’re Force sensitive. Due to all the thousands of years of positive emotions -- of family, and love, and home -- that have seeped into it. 

I haven’t seen anyone else use this so I think it’s mineminemine! :)

Give us a snippet of something from your WiPs!

Hmmm... What do I have that isn’t super spoilery or that I’ve given before...

They were hunting him.

He could feel them move through the halls. Sweeping rooms, their minds intent. Searching.

He needed to hide. He needed to get away. Until it was dark. Until it was safe. The night was safety on Tatooine, as the Three Sisters rose in the sky and the Masters slept. A time when the slaves could gather and tell stories. A time when they could slip their chains for a few hours and breath together. Laugh together. Love together.

A time to run.

Darkness meant safety. Meant the cooling air after the deadly heat of the day and freedom from the master’s gaze. Darkness meant the embrace of family.

He needed to find the dark.

He could feel it. Beneath his feet. Beneath the Temple.

It called.

On silent feet, he ran, pressing himself to walls when he felt the brush of another mind. The intent of the hunt around him. The marble of the floor was warm against the soles of his bare feet as he crept through disused halls.

He was stepping through the alleys of Mos Eisley. Silently, on the heels of his mother as she left to attend an illness in the slave village. Then, he put a foot down and it was on the dusty duracrete floors of Watto’s shop. The Toydarian sneering at him, hand raised in threat.

Anakin cowered.

Then, it was the gravel of Gardulla’s slave quarters, watching as his mother dragged away. Before he’d learned that crying was a waste of water.  

When the Temple came back into view, Anakin didn’t know where he was, but it was dark, and it was cool, and it was safe.

It must be safe.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone

A Tyler Rake/Established Female OC fic

Summary: A lot changes in five years. Now a family of nine, the Rakes are splitting their time between Australia and New York City. With Dhaka nothing but a distant yet still painful memory and the dirty work mostly behind him, Tyler is healthy and thriving. Not only as a husband and father, but as the acting founder and boss of his own mercenary business and co-owner of his wife's well loved and flourishing bookstore. But while love and domestic happiness abound, the past and its secrets are never far behind.

Huge thanks and tons of love to @tragiclyhip​ for never letting me give up! It’s thanks to her I ever actually finished off the last fic, or started this one.  And she also made my incredible banner! <3 <3 <3

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @tragiclyhip​

Prologue

FIVE YEARS LATER

******

The stand sits fifteen feet above ground and wraps halfway around the gnarled and twisted trunk of a centuries old Kapok tree. No hunter has made use of it in years; the stairs leading upwards weakened by harsh weather and neglect, wood cracking and bowing under the soles of well worn combat boots. Despite the added weight of gear and a kevlar utility vest, long legs and a wide stride make it easy to navigate the missing steps. His movements are purposeful and quiet; careful to avoid even the slightest snap of a twig or the rustle of dried and fallen leaves or the scratch of dirt and pebbles against the pitted and fragile wood. Any sound is a detriment in this environment; the lush and dense landscape so eerily still and silent that even a hint of noise would seem deafening. The slightest of movement has the potential to stir up the wildlife, which in turn would draw unwanted attention upwards from the banks of the Mekong River.

Even under the thick and expansive umbrella of the forest the heat is stifling. Humidity oppressive and choking. A thin layer of sweat gathers on his brow; errants droplets burning his eyes and gathering on the ends of his lashes. His shirt -long sleeved to not only provide cover in the jungle but protect from scrapes and cuts and the burn of the sun- nearly soaked right through; darkened patches under the arms and at the small of the back, the fabric clinging to dampened and slick skin. Fine beads settle around his mouth, and when he drops into a crouch at the top of the stand, he swipes his tongue over his top lip in an effort to clear away the sweat. It had been an hour hike through the jungle; moving swiftly and silently as he listened to directions being given through a transmitter he sports in his left ear. It’s sweltering and he’s thirsty; head pounding and his hands begin to tremble as the beginning stages of dehydration begin to settle in. He takes the time to remedy the situation. Shrugging off the rucksack slung over his left shoulder and dropping it onto the floor of the stand; hands shaking yet able to tear open the zipper. There’s two bottles of water packed in amongst the gear; extra pairs of socks in case of treks through swamps and marshes, two full clips of ammo that will only be used if someone on the other side is able to pinpoint his location and launch a full scale and fully armed search.

He hopes it doesn’t come to that.

Downing half a bottle of water, he uses the remains to cool himself down; splashing a handful of the liquid against his face and then dumping the rest over his head. Ten years ago, the elements wouldn’t have bothered him as much; he would have been thirty seven years old and still in relatively good shape. Physically AND mentally. And despite a consistent and punishing routine of heavy lifting, core training, and cardio, he’s definitely feeling the effects of both age and decades of hard and often dangerous living. Knees stiff and aching from the brisk hike over rough terrain and then through mud and thick brush; the arthritis that takes up residence in the small of his back and the right hip making its presence known. He’ll be sore tomorrow; every step he takes will send pain shooting through him, and for the next week he’ll wonder just why the hell he ever said ‘yes’ in the first place. Each stiff movement and slow step and aching muscle will remind him of just how things HAVE changed over the years. Gone are the days when he could skip a few days sleep; able to function on both little rest and minuscule amounts of food and drink. There’s no way he’d be able to do THAT now; push his body to the limits he’d been testing for so long. That man no longer exists. The one that would take the most dangerous and unpredictable jobs in hopes of catching a bullet. Who’d almost pray, beg and plead each and every time he went out that it would be his last; one sniper’s shot away from finally being put out of his miserable existence.

Things changed, of course. When he’d been least expecting them to. There’s way too much to lose now. It’s why every decision he makes now...every movement...matters so much. Even the smallest of mistakes can change the course of the future; one misstep potentially blowing his cover and leading to his untimely -and likely extremely brutal and bloody- demise. An hour away a helicopter waits for him; on standby to whisk him back to Vietnam and that little ‘hole in the wall’ hotel he’d been staying in. A quick shower and he’d back in the air; rushed to the nearest backwoods airport where a private jet would take him home. It’s been four days now; two spent in the planning stages before his first ‘hit’ in Laos and then the trek to Cambodia. Two for the price of one, Anil had said, although money matters very little now. These kinds of gigs are more a service; wiping out the dregs of society more of a gift to humanity than anything else.

He normally doesn’t take on jobs. A total of three in the past five years. This is the fourth AND fifth. The skills and the mindset quickly and effortlessly returning, the first kill a lot easier than he’d thought it would be. It’s like riding a bike; once the gun is in your hand and you’re peering through that scope, your finger easily finds and pulls the trigger. And this job had been impossible to turn down; the dirty and vile details hitting home and preying on his ‘human side’. Anyone in his position as a husband and father would have been enraged and disgusted. Drug runners and weapons smugglers that moonlight in abusing and torturing their wives and exploiting children. Sometimes even their own. People that evil don’t deserve to live; even a bullet between the eyes considered too kind. But it’s all he has time for. No ‘face to face’ meetings. He can’t be seen or even identified by name in order to protect his OWN family. He has to remain a ghost. An urban legend of sorts. Talked and gossiped about in drug circles and even among the local police and military who’d either been paid off by the criminals or had been hopeless and hapless when it came to stopping the activity. Nothing will be known about him. No glimpse of his appearance, no chance to hear his voice or even know his name. He’ll be known for just those ‘lucky shots’ he’d gotten in. Turned in to nothing more than rumours and speculation that will continue spreading long after he’s gone.

***

“T...you there?” Yaz’ voice through the earpiece. The reception is spotty; words broken up by heavy static.

He uses a forearm to wipe the mixture of water and sweat from his face, then lays a finger against the transmitter clipped to his vest. “I’m here.”

“Hot out there today, isn’t it.”

He smirks, then begins pulling pieces of a semi automatic rifle from the confines of the rucksack; hands moving quickly and efficiently as they snap and twist the weapon together. “I don’t want to hear your bitching. You’ve got air conditioning. I’m the one out in this shit.” His voice is low and quiet as he speaks. Even the smallest of sounds can travel great distances; echoing through the jungle and making its way down to the banks of the Mekong.

The river sits fifty yards to the south; muddy and heavily polluted and dotted with boats belonging to local fisherman. One vessel stands out from the crowd. A large and expensive houseboat; the chrome that lines the powerful motor and makes up the railings on the top deck sparkling in the sunlight. His mark is inside; meeting with some of Anil’s people acting under the guise of weapons buyers. When the time is right, the man in question will be led out onto the bottom deck and he’ll have one shot to get the job done. It’s another reason Anil had personally sought him out; his marksmanship impeccable, no other employee coming close to possessing that level of skill.

“You good?” Yaz inquires.

“Yeah…” he snaps the magazine in place and then switches off the safety. “...I’m good.”

“I’ll let you know when there’s movement. Going silent for now.”

He tears off the lid of the second bottle of water and takes a single sip before setting it down; using his sleeve to wipe both the opening and every side of the plastic. He can’t leave any trace of himself behind. Not a drop of sweat or a hint of saliva or his fingerprints. He’ll wipe the stand down before he leaves; methodically cleaning anything he may have come in contact with. IF his location is discovered, money talks. Anyone remotely related to his mark will pay to get answers, and the police will take what’s offered and collect every shred of possible evidence. He can’t take that chance. A single, unattached person may not care. Had he still been the guy living in the rundown and beaten up shack in the outback, he wouldn’t have thought twice about covering his tracks. But lives depend on him. A wife and seven beautiful little humans that count on him to protect them and keep them safe.

He CAN’T fuck this up.

Up in the stand he’s well hidden; camouflaged by the abundance of thick, lush greenery. It’ll be a tough shot through twisted and tangled branches; not even a foot of clearance between wood and leaves. Depending on exactly where his mark is led, he’ll compensate for that; pulling to the right or left in order to prevent the bullet from getting too ‘dirty’. He’s made tougher shots; mostly in his SASR days. And there’s no doubt he’ll make this one.

He bunches up the ruck sack and places it near the edge of the stand, facing the river. He’ll use it as both a ledge and a form of cushioning; balancing the long barrel of the rifle will provide stability and muffle the sound of the shot, disguising where it had originated from. He winces as he gingerly lowers himself onto his stomach; the cracking in his hip and the soreness in both knee and shoulder reminding him that he’s not as young as he used to be. Forty-seven is ancient in mercenary years. Most never make it that far. The odd few get to retire peacefully, but the majority are taken out by a bullet; one too many lapses in judgment and the smallest of errors leading to their deaths.

But most never get to have what he does either. A normal life with a family that loves him ; thousands of miles away, anxiously awaiting his return. It’s why he’s so careful; every decision he makes and every action he takes is done with them at the forefront of his mind. And he thinks about them now; warm and safe in the confines of a townhome in New York City. Four days ago they’d travelled from Australia and he’d promised to meet up with them as soon as the job was finished. It’s their third Christmas there; an eight bedroom brownstone in Gramercy Park. The kids especially enjoy spending the holidays there. Quickly falling in love with the idea of a white Christmas and enjoying all of the outdoor activities; sledding and skating and seeing the tree at Rockefeller Centre and visiting Santa and the reindeer in Central Park. And while life in the Big Apple had never appealed to him, the draw of Gramercy had been impossible to resist. Quiet and quaint; tree lined streets and a private park and neighbours that mind their own business and don’t ask too many questions. He’d initially worried about standing out like a sore thumb; tanned skinned and the array of tattoos and scars and the ‘Down Under’ accent. It turned out to be everything he HADN'T expected. The feeling of small town life within an enormous city.

The back of his hand swipes at the locusts and mosquitos that hover close to his face; their buzzing and humming both tickling and irritating his ears. The right isn’t as good as it used to be; hearing slightly muted and distorted thanks to years of both firing and coming in close contact with weapons. It’s another drawback to getting old. Along with his eyesight. Needing glasses to read or to spend anytime staring at a computer screen.

“They’re on the move.”

He blinks sweat from his eyes and wipes his lips and chin on the sleeve of his shirt. Then he settles in; bending his left leg at the knee and wriggling his stomach against the wood beneath him. The latter is mind over matter; as if the simple movement and the way he presses the toes of boots against the stand will improve both shot and stability. His finger hovers over the trigger; other hand lightly supporting the barrel of the gun, allowing the rucksack to bear the majority of the weight. Anil’s people come out first; identified by the tan linen suits he’d been told they’d be sporting. The ‘Mark’ is a middle aged man, clad in casual attire; olive green cargo shorts and a simple white golf shirt. He’s short and stocky with greying hair and a noticeable limp; a run in with a rival drug crew years ago resulting in the amputation of his leg and the acquisition of a prosthetic device.

His jaw clenches and his lips settle into a thin, pursed line. His heart hammers in his chest and both his shoulders and his chest tighten. It’s adrenaline. That unmistakable rush that comes before an imminent strike. He remembers it well. And it’s both surprising and disheartening how much he’s actually missed it.

As they chatter and laugh, one of Anil’s men places a hand on the Mark’s back and ever so slightly turns the other man in Tyler’s direction. It’s all he needs; just enough of the Mark’s forehead to ensure a ‘kill shot’. And he takes it; the sound slightly muffled but still deafening as it echoes through the jungle and stirs birds from their perches and wildlife from the safety of their nests and dens. The bullet easily tears through layers of leaves and bypasses branches; finding its target and sending the Mark sprawling backwards and then down into a pool of brain matter, fragments of skull, and quickly spreading blood.

“Target’s down.”

The words are simple. To the point. And as chaos erupts down by the river, he calmly begins his retreat; pushing himself up onto his feet and slinging the rifle over his shoulder. There’s no pressing need or rush; Anil’s people have made their quick escape and the screams and shouts are coming from startled fisherman and colleagues of the Mark that had been inside the houseboat. He has time; methodically cleaning every inch of both the stand and the stairs and making sure he’s left nothing behind.

“I’m heading back,” he says, shouldering the ruck sack and taking the stairs two at a time. He’s suddenly anxious to get on his way; feeling the relief that sets in as he begins his hour long trek.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Not from the success of the mission or the satisfaction that comes with ridding the world of yet another monster. It’s one of happiness. One of peace.

The realization that each step he takes brings him closer to home.

[vegetacide]

Sleepless

Veg●notable: So... this popped into my head.. wrote it.. and here we are.

Any mistakes are purely my own...

Characters: Kayo/Virgil, Jeff Tracy

General warning: Just a little gropey

Word count: 4541 words

Time: Middle of the night. Crack past when regular people would be sleeping

Location: Lounge balcony, Island

Summary: Someone is having a hard time sleeping.. stuff happens. Embarrassment ensues.

Enjoy!

o0o

Virgil sat upright with a jolt, the feeling of foreboding and dread chasing him into the land of wakefulness. Breath heaving, heart pounding a rapid staccato in his chest, he scrambled up his rumpled bed until his back found the headboard and kicked his legs free of the tangle of linens.

Croaking out a command, the shadowy remnants of the nightmare which had been plaguing his slumber vanished as the soft, pre-programmed lighting illuminated the quiet space of his room. Reassuring him that he wasn’t actually hanging from a mountain a mere finger’s width away from a trapped climber..

Cursing softly to himself, he racked a hand through his sleep tousled hair and swung his legs over the side of the bed resisting the urge to shiver as the temperature controlled air breezed over his sweat soaked back.

Slouching he braced his elbows on his knees and rubbed the exhausted fog from his eyes. The dream had felt so real, the blistering cold, the blinding wind, the burning chill in his chest as he desperately tried to stretch those last few centimetres.

He’d been so very close yet not close enough. The climber’s pleading voice, hoarse from screaming grew quiet and an odd calm of realization had settled over the indistinguishable features of their face. A dark truth had been registered, that salvation was not in the cards for them.

In that instant Virgil had recognized the climber’s sudden intent and throwing all caution to the bitter mountain wind, he’d lunged. His thighs coiling then thrusting him out and away from the purchase of the ledge he’d been dangling from and just as he started to free fall, the climber let go…

He stared down at his hand and frowned at the slight tremble in them. Clenching them a few times and dispelling the dull phantom ache he felt from the situation that had been conjured from the depths of his own subconscious.

Catching the dim, blue numerals of the digital display on his night stand, Virgil exhaled wearily and with a grunt of effort pushed to his feet. A couple hours of sleep was better than no sleep at all but after three straight days of this, the lack of a full eight was starting to wear on him.

His brothers always razzed on him for his late morning sleeping habits and it looked like it was going to be no different once the sun decided to crest the horizon. Little did they know though that his penchant for daytime slumber was more out of a dire need than laziness on his part.

He’d suffered the insomniatic spurts for a large part of his adult life. Some due to traversing multiple time zones on a regular and completely throwing off his natural circadian rhythm and other from an over-active mind that just ceased to shut off at a reasonable time.

He’d tried various sleep aids over the years, from the medicinal variety to the drinkable kind with a percentage stamped on the side of the bottle but neither of them were long-term solutions. Both had side effects that were detrimental to his chosen career path. Hard to concentrate on a rescue in a drug induced fog or function effectively with a hangover. He knew that from experiences and both were definitely something he didn’t want to try or risk again with lives on the line.

So letting the brotherly teasing just roll off him was his preferred dénouement. As for the twilight hours from dusk till dawn? He filled those lonely hours with copious midnight sessions in the island gym, or with twilight maintenance work on his ‘Bird. The latter had been done so frequently that he could reassemble Two’s VTOL thruster assembly blindfolded, one hand tied behind his back and with a set of nail clippers as his only tool…. On the rare occasion when the exhaustion wasn’t too intolerable, he’d even break out his art supplies. Usually though his creative muse would be out cold in a corner somewhere so his productivity on those nights was severely lacking and whatever he managed to produce was subpar at best.

No one ever saw those works of so-called “art”. They were tucked away in the far back corner of his art studio saved from the trash for some reason he was unable to wrap his head around despite the fact that he loathed them for their complete ineptitude.

Crap results or not, it served its purpose of distracting his mind from whatever it was that was preventing him from dreamland and he found that on more than one occasion he managed to just stumble off to bed again before the rest of the house had roused to start their day. Hiding the fact that sleep had been evading him and effectively staving off both the worry wart that was Scott and matriarchal commandeering presence of his Grandmother.

Though these days, he had the added pressure of dealing with the wandering presence of his father as well. Who seemed to ghost around the house at night as much as he did. Virgil suspected that his father was still adjusting to being Earth side and except for one instance had managed to avoid him.

Jeff Tracy’s sleep patterns were erratic at best but that was to be expected after his survival ordeal in the Oort cloud. Virgil knew from a medical standpoint that given time his father would eventually adjust but in the meantime, he would have to play a one sided version of cat and mouse with the man just so he didn’t set his father’s somewhat questionable mental stability for a spin. He had enough on his plate to deal with already, he didn’t need the added weight of his second oldest son’s problems on top of it.

Giving his head a shake at the direction of his thoughts, Virgil made his way over to his closet. If he let his mind drift in that way for too long he would find himself down a rabbit hole he would have a hard time finding his way out of. At the moment he didn’t have the mental stamina or the wherewithal for it either.

Reaching blindly into the dark depths of his closet Virgil rummaged around until his fingers came across the soft cotton of a well loved pair of track pants. Slipping the loose folds of worn fabric over his legs he contemplated his options for the rest of the night and just couldn’t drum up the energy to make a decision.

Catching a glimpse at his bed out of the corner of his eye he knew that staying in his room wasn’t on the table. Turning, Virgil made his way quietly on bare feet out the door and towards the stairs. Maybe something good would be on late night TV but knowing his luck as of late it was unlikely. At this point though it was better than coming up with an alternative. He’d already gone over Two with a fine toothed comb and his muscles were still recuperating from the previous nights work out. Last thing he wanted to do was to end up with a work out related injury. He was already pushing safety parameters on call outs as it was and a sprain or strain was going to have him benched for sure

---

Ten minutes of channel surfing was all it took before Virgil hit the fed up phase of his evening. Abso-fucking nothing on TV. Nothing at least that could keep his attention. Tossing the remote somewhere to his left, he shoved up to his feet, grabbed his glass off the low table and headed out on to the balcony to watch the light show of a storm that was passing by off-shore.

Leaning his elbow on the railing overlooking the pool he watched the play of light as it rumbled across the dense cloud cover. By the looks of it, the storm was shaping up to be a big one but all their scans told them it would keep well to the South of their island home. Even as far out to sea as it was, the winds were starting to pick up and Virgil could hear the storm surge as it crashed against the shoals and rocky outcroppings far below the family villa.

Losing himself to the slashes of lightning that danced across the heavens in a vibrant display of scorching white streaks buffeting, turbulent bruise coloured clouds that in an instant succumb to the abysmal void of inky black. He could feel in his bones that beep bass rumbles that followed. Thrumming through the Earth, cement and rebar of his home up though his feet and the oppressiveness of its ferocity weighed on him. Even all these many miles away the might of Mother Nature could be felt. He just prayed that no one was stupid enough to be out in that mess.

“Fingers crossed.”

*-*-*

It hadn’t been her intention to startle him. Far from it and it wasn’t like she was trying to be quiet about her approach. Virgil had been just so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed her standing beside him contemplating the stark contrast of light and shadows across the expanse of his tense back and heavy shoulders.

“Shit… Kayo, you scared the crap out of me.” He heaved a sigh, settling his weight against the railing again.

“Sorry, didn’t mean too but I was just agreeing with what you said.”

Puzzled eyes turned towards her and a thick brow arched in question to her statement.

Mirroring his pose, she gave his shoulder a nudge with her own before pointing a finger off towards the churning storm. “That no one is stupid enough to be out in that.” She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he processed her words, noting the stiffness to his posture, the way the darkness hung like a bruise under his tired eyes and the paler of his skin. Even in the limited lighting he looked more ghost-like than human.

He gave a grunt of understanding before turning back to watch the storm and lifting his tumbler to the distant clouds in a salute. “Here’s to hoping.” The last dregs in the glass disappeared in short order as he tossed it back. The whiff of whiskey wafting her way as he set the empty vessel on the railing between them.

“I thought you were on rota tomorrow?” She questioned as she eyed the glass and wondered how much had been consumed.

“I am.” His eyes followed hers and he gave a shrug but no further explanation and Kayo didn’t press.

She’d basically grown up with the man and his brothers so she trusted his judgement impeccably but there was still something bothering her about the whole scene. Something felt off..

“You okay?” She was never one to bat around the bushes and her gut was very seldom wrong especially where it concerned the man beside her. The man she’d stopped seeing as a sibling sometime ago and started seeing as something else entirely. It was something that started to blossom one unforgettable snowy night the previous November in New York but neither of them had had the time to tend to since…. Other more pressing things had gotten in the way and there was now another Tracy planet side and returned from the dead as a result.

Maybe now…

He gave a shrug and he shifted to look at her, the wind blowing in off the coast tousling his unstyled hair in a roguish way across his brow. “I’m fine, nothing to worry about.”

He was holding something back, she could tell. Something eerie lurked in his tired walnut gazed. Shifting across the usual vivid depths like the smoldering haze after a wildfire. Dampening what was usually brilliant and clear.

She stepped towards him, her hand reaching to cup his check. The unshaved scruff rough against the palm of her hand. “I’m a good listener if you need an ear.”

He turned into her embrace, brushed his lips over the soft flesh of her hand in silent thanks and smiled at her. “Kinda a prerequisite in your line of work.”

Her own lips quirked up. “Growing up in a house full of testosterone it was a necessity or I would never have been able to sneak out at night with five over protective brothers.”

Virgil chuckled, some of the murkiness leaving his eyes. “Point taken.”

She let her hand drop and a flash of something like disappointed flickered across his brow.

His breath fanned across her face as he sighed, the light fragrance of whiskey warming her. “So…” she said, crossing her arms and emitting the air of stubbornness she was known for. “Spill already.”

A heavy shoulder lifted, the light cast through the open lounge doors catching on the planes of thick muscle with the movement and she couldn’t resist brushing a hand over the warm skin.

“Rough night, that’s all.”

“Can’t sleep again?’

He looked surprised at her question and she had her answer without him saying a word.

“Virgil, I specialize in security. I am well aware of your night time routine.Two has never run better and the gym equipment requires a break from you before you actually break it. Besides,” She added admiring the way his biceps bunched as he rested his hands on his hips, “You get any bigger you won’t be able to fit down Two’s chute”

A soft curse slipped past his lips. It was obvious that he’d thought that his attempts to avoid his family had been successful.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t or wont say anything to Scott.” Her fingers gave his shoulder a light squeeze of reassurance. “If it gets worse I know you’ll do the right thing and say something yourself. You’re dealing with it right now in your own way and you have a right to your own privacy and council. Just, if you wanna talk...” she stalled out on her offering, shifting her gaze away from his to take in the night around them as heat started to colour her cheeks.

A moment later his fingers danced across her brow and she sucked in a breath as he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His strong musician’s fingers lingered until she met his eyes again.

He was looking down at her, so close now that the bare skin of his chest brushed hers with every breath. He seemed to be sturdier now, more so then when she’d discovered him looking despondently at the storm. An assuredness that had been missing before seemed to have returned to the strong line of his jaw and the tension she’d seen in his posture was gone. There was a shift in the air around him, almost anticipatory in nature and she felt a thrill run down her spine.

Her pulse kicked at the heat imbued in his eyes as he gently angled her face towards his own. She stammered, not able to finish off what she had been about to say. “..uh..talk about....”

“Thank you, Tin’ He whispered, the oaky tang of alcohol ghosting across her lips and effectively stopping her uncharacteristic fumbling.

It took but a nanosecond for her brain to go from a midair stall out to ignition. Her inner monologue screamed, demanding that she act. Only the slightest of movements would be needed to bridge the distance between them. An easy contraction of muscles and she could push up on her toes, silencing all other words with the meeting of their lips. Without further hesitation, she did just that.

Months of denied contact and frustration sprang to the fore, blazing bright and intoxicating. Before either of them were aware, they were wrapped around each other. His strong body flush to her own, his hand tangled in her hair that had somehow between one second and the next come undone from its customary binding.

“God..” she panted, barely recognizing her own voice. His lips skimming across her flesh, trailing like fire down her neck to that spot that made her world flip on its axis. Light headed she scraped her nails down his back. Seeking purchase as her knees grew weak.

“I’ve missed you…”

He emitted a groan of approval. The sound heady, potent and oh so primal. It was almost her undoing and the burn within her flared.

Desperate for more and caring little about where they were standing, she slipped her hand between them...

The sudden intrusion of a throat clearing had them springing apart so fast that she almost lost her footing and she gracelessly plopped down on the nearest lounger. A feeble attempt on her part to save face. The instantaneous lack of Virgil’s body heat made her shiver and it sobered her mind faster than any cold shower could.

One of the overhead lights flicked on and the silhouetted figure at the balcony door came into sharp focus. A short striped housecoat was sashed neatly at a trim waist and slippered feet scuffed lightly over the flooring as the head of the house stepped out onto the balcony. In one hand he swirled a glass of water. Condensation dribbling over faintly scared hands as the ice cubes tinkled with the rhythmic movement.

“Tanusha,” He greeted, one proud eyebrow arched high over suspicious eyes as he scanned over the breathless pair. “Son.”

*-*-*

Fuck… that was all that came to mind as Virgil gaped at his father though he knew better than to voice the expletive.

Reaching out a hand, he grasped at the railing and wished his own long forgotten glass wasn’t so empty.

How in hell was he going to explain this?

He peered over to Kayo hoping that she could provide something, anything that might salvage the situation. The stunned deer-caught-in-the-headlights look he found though didn't bode well.

His first attempt to speak caught in his throat and he cleared it self consciously before risking a quick glance down to assess his person. Thankfully everything was where it should be and mercifully, PG...well...kind of.

“...Dad…It’s late, what are you doing up?”

Jeff blinked at his son then held up his glass, the answer obvious. “Hydrating, as I can see you have been doing too.”

“Oh..ya that… just a night cap.”

“And you’re on call in the morning?” It was said more like a statement than a question and Virgil did his best to hide the wince at the hidden reprimand.

His father turned to Kayo, effectively dismissing the subject from further conversation as he was well aware that his message had been received loud and clear.

Virgil did a fast and stealthy re-adjustment of his pants and groaned internally. Chances were by morning he would find that his shift had been rescheduled and he was going to need to dodge the Scott Tracy hairy eyeball all day. An unwritten rule that all the younger brothers were well aware of; never mess with the Commander’s schedules. It was some old hang up from his military days that he’d never grown out of to the detriment of the rest of the island. As unpredictable as Scott could be when on mission, at home you could figure out the time of day by what the eldest was doing. From his morning jog right down to when he grabbed the daily stock reports and headed to the bathroom.

It was kind of freaky actually. The man’s bowels were perfectly timed, no matter the food that went in...even if it was Grandma’s cooking.

Giving the back of his neck a rub, Virgil surmised he spent far too much time with his brother, far, far too much time.

Well with the exception of playing a tantalizing round of ‘avoid the angry, overly concerned big brother’… at least he could attempt to catch up on some sleep.

Ding! Bright side!...Crap.

“Tanusha, didn’t know you were back on the island. How was the flight in?”

“Uh.. hell of a cross wind on approach, ” Kayo finally piped up, returning once more to her feet. Her security agent persona nailed firmly back into place. “But nothing Shadow couldn’t handle.”

“Hmm, glad to hear it. You’ll have to let me take her for a spin sometime.” His father said all conversationally as if that fact that his second eldest and basically his adoptive daughter hadn’t just been about to get it on right there on the balcony like a pair of randy teenagers.

Jeff tipped his chin in the direction of the storm. “Nice light show.”

Virgil caught a hint of a grin on his father’s face that was not quite hidden behind a careful sip of water. The man knew exactly what he was doing and he was loving every minute of it.

“Uhhh… ya. It is.” Well, this was definitely awkward and his father was sadistic. Now would be a fantastic time for John to call down with a situation.. Somewhere.. .Anywhere.. For anything.. Like a cat stuck in a tree in say like Alaska...right now…

Kayo nodded her head in agreement and mouthed an apology in Virgil’s direction when Jeff turned to take in the view. “Well, it’s been lovely talking to you both but duty call.” She glanced down at her wrist as if to check the time but really it was to avoid the pleading look on Virgil’s face. “Canada’s about to come online and they owe me a report on last week’s protocol updates.”

Virgil’s shoulders slumped..

“Good night, Tanusha.”

“Good night, Jeff.” And she slinked off into the house, holding her head high despite that fact that there was still a healthy glow of red riding her cheeks.

Jeff shifted his attention back to Virgil. “So..you two were just,” He actually stopped mid sentence to emphasize his point with finger quotation. “Talking ?”

Exhausted beyond measure, embarrassed within an inch of his life and, if he was going to be truthful to himself; horny as hell…Yup, this evening was summing up to be a real shit show.

Crossing and uncrossing his arms, Virgil really wasn’t sure what to do with himself. It wasn’t like he was a teenager anymore. He was a grown man, of course he had relationships of a romantic nature.. He wasn’t a monk, by any stretch of the imagination but this was his father and old habits apparently did die hard.

Despite the length of time his father had been absent and the fact the family dynamic in the house was still adjusting to the patriarch’s return, Virgil felt like he’d somehow regressed back to a sixteen year old again. Caught making out with his highschool girlfriend on the couch and trying to make up excuses for the state of their undress.

The smile on his father’s face told him though that the man was well aware of his son’s floundering.

“Relax, son.” A humorous snort followed and he wandered over to stand beside him, leaning casually on the railing. “ I believe we had that conversation about the birds and the bees when you were eleven. You’re a grown man, I’m not going to fault you for looking for a bit of peace and comfort. ”

Virgil studied the ground, his mind drifting to the woman that had so captured his attention. He’d been skirting around how he felt in regards to her for months and he still had doubts if it was right of him to feel the way he did. To revise their adoptive familial relationship to something more intimate after everything they had been though. He often wondered if he was in some way taking advantage… as stupid as that might sound to others he seriously questioned his own motives.

It had been Kayo that had taken the first giant leap though. He shouldn’t have been surprised with her intuition. She’d seen right through him. Tore down all his defenses to expose what he so stupidly thought was hidden from her. Everything all out into the open for them both to see and after that..right into a penthouse suite at the Park Hyatt.

One thing about Kayo, she certainly didn’t waste time when the chips were down. She knew what she wanted and she went for it.

“So, you and our Tin-tin, huh?” Jeff chuckled and Virgil brought his attention back to his father.. “I never would have suspected but seeing you two together just now.. Well, I can definitely say that the pair of you are a good match. Complementary to each other actually.”

Despite his own embarrassment, Virgil started to relax. Relieve that his father seemed fine with what he had inadvertently walked in on. “Its, uh.. still very new.”

“Really?” Jeff questioned, his brows shooting up in mild surprise. “With that chemistry? Reminds me of when your Mom and I were together. After the first few months there wasn’t a lot that could distract us from…”

“Dad!” Virgil all but squeaked. He didn’t think it was possible to fit more blood into his head at that moment but apparently he could. Well at least the blood had stopped pooling somewhere else....thank God..

Jeff raised a placating hand and his words carried a laugh in them. “Okay, okay. I will spare you the details. The point being, the pair of you look good together and I must admit even with me still trying to get the lay of the land around here… you two fit and if it makes the pair of you happy, then I wholeheartedly approve.”

Virgil was speechless a moment. It had been the last thing he expected. Approval so easily given from a man he remembered as being rather commanding and if he was being truthful to himself, a bit intimidating.

His father’s time in space had changed him, changed them all in ways they didn't fully understand.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder, his calloused fingers tightening for a brief moment before he turned to watch the storm.

They sat a moment in companionable silence. Father and son, just taking in the light show together, getting reacquainted in a quiet moment while the rest of the house slept on.

It didn’t last long but it was enough to start mending the old tired fences that lay scattered between them. Not broken from misuse but worn from the years of absence. “You should try and get some sleep, son. You look tired and the sun will be up soon enough.”

Virgil inhaled deeply, tasting the distant rain and the linger hint of jasmine on his tongue. He nodded as he pushed away from the railing, rolling his shoulders to loosen up some of the knots that lingered there. “I should.” He agreed but paused before heading inside once more. “Thanks, Dad. Enjoy the storm."

Jeff tipped his glass slightly in salute. "I always did love a good show."

Virgil paused a moment, not sure how to take that but quickly decided he was way too tired to figure it out. Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle and stepped back into the house.

o0o

FIN

[upstartpoodle]

So it’s been a ridiculously long time since I’ve updated ‘Moving Forward’ now (I’ve quite possibly run into the most troublesome couple of paragraphs ever to refuse to be written - seriously I’m so close to finishing the chapter but my brain just won’t let me fill in the gaps for some reason). But anyway, I’m hoping to get my brain back in gear pretty soon, but until I do, here’s a second extract of the new chapter for anybody who’s interested!

@harry-leroy, @forcebros, @ticketybooser, @lashbrook11

***

“Surely there is something that can be done,” Cary scowled, suddenly. Taut as a bowstring, his eyes burning, he looked for all the world as if he were some confined beast ready to tear apart whatever lay within his grasp the moment he had the chance. “Something more than mopping his forehead and hoping he doesn't—”

He cut himself off, turning sharply away from the sight of his distressed nephew, jaw clenched. Dwight bit back a sigh, willing himself, despite his own overwrought nerves, to be patient. He shook his head.

“The fever must burn itself out before he can recover,” he said. “There is only so much we can do to keep it under control, but I promise you, we are doing everything we can to keep him comfortable through the worst of it.”

Cary sneered, his eyes flashing.

“Ah, well, as long as he's comfortable before he goes to the grave” he snarled, bitterly.

Dwight swallowed. He did not want to contemplate the possibility that George might not pull through the fever, but he, perhaps more than any of them, knew all too well how close to the brink he was hovering. He could not give in though—not yet—and as much as it was clear that Cary was a man all too inclined to prepare for the worst than hope for the best, he could not in good conscience allow others to do so either.

“He isn't lost to us yet,” he murmured, his eyes flickering up towards the man opposite him even as he felt George shifting restlessly, flinching away beneath his touch. “It may not seem so now, but your nephew is strong. He will not give in without a fight. We owe it to him not to give up hope that he may yet survive.”

Cary snorted. Another soft whimper from the bed, and though he still kept his face turned sharply away, Dwight saw something raw and pained creep across his features like a shadow.

“Yet,” he said, his voice suddenly very rough. “What use is 'yet' to me? If he—”

“Uncle...”

George's voice was soft, barely even a whisper above the hammering of the rain against the window, but that single utterance was enough to mute Cary's reply in an instant. His gaze finally turned away from the door, and back down to his shivering, trembling nephew, his eyes blazing.

“Uncle...” he murmured again. Dwight, who had been halfway through wetting the damp cloth in his hand, paused. He could see his eyes flickering back and forth behind his lids, his fine features contorted with fear at whatever bizarre visions were plaguing him. “Uncle, please...don't let him...”

Cary turned white, his jaw clenched so tight now that Dwight half wondered whether he would be able to open it again once the time came for him to speak. He swallowed. He could guess well enough what—or rather, who—was haunting his patient's feverish imagination, and it was clear from Cary's expression that he was not alone in the assumption.

“Hush, George, it is alright.” He pressed the cloth firmly against his burning forehead, trying to soothe him as he flinched at the contact. His other hand came to rest over one of the man's balled fists, clutched tight at the dishevelled sheets, tracing a gentle, calming rhythm over his white knuckles with his thumb. “There is nobody here but your uncle and I. You are safe.”

He wasn't sure if George could hear him—or if he could, whether he had enough presence of mind to understand him—but he knew that it was the best he could hope to do to relieve his patient's distress. He whispered words of comfort, over and over, until the man's quiet, troubled murmurings faded into incoherent little whimpers, and his wild shifting into slight shivers from the fever. All the time, Cary watched on, strange flashes of disquiet flashing across his face, as if somebody had forced him to watch something disturbing and unnatural.

“Has he been...speaking often?” he spoke up eventually. With George having finally quieted, and the repetitive pattern of the rain on the windowpane, his rough voice sounded harsher even than usual, for all that he had been trying to speak softly.

Dwight frowned.

“Not coherently enough to reveal anything you might wish to keep secret,” he said, guessing the old man's worries easily enough. Several demands of complete discretion—and one notable threat of being sued—both throughout and after his previous treatment of George had been enough to demonstrate to him Cary's insistent and unrelenting desire for absolute secrecy regarding his nephew's particular ailment, and the business with the horrid Penrose. “Nobody shall make anything of it.”

Part of him thought it an odd priority—to see one's nephew deathly injured and wracked with fever, then to think first of what he might reveal in the midst of his delirium to those in whose care he had been placed. It was the sort of thing that would outrage Ross, who cared little for reputation and whose concern had never been for malicious gossip and and the consequences that might ensue. Dwight, though, for all he disliked the hard and unfeeling elder Warleggan, thought he could understand it. For all that he was sure that none at Nampara would use it against them, evidence of suspected lunacy was a dangerous thing, especially should it fall into the wrong hands.

“Poldark might make the connection,” Cary replied, his features contorting into a truly impressive sneer as he spat out Ross' name. “He saw enough to know there was something going on. And that's leaving aside what Valentine might have told him, fool of a child. Or you.”

Dwight's head shot up, shocked for a moment into silence by the vehement accusation. His thumb, which had still been running gently over George's knuckles as they spoke, slowed to a stop.

“I have told him nothing, sir,” he said coolly, fighting the urge to bristle at the insinuation—as if he made a habit of blurting out pertinent information concerning patients to his friends like a child who understood no better. “You asked for complete discretion and I have done my utmost to adhere to that request.”

With the exception of Caroline, he thought, swallowing down a lump in his throat. True, it had been an honest mistake—on both their parts, he realised, despite what he had said to her at the time—but he had been unpardonably careless, leaving his notes, however briefly, to be so easily found. He felt badly for being so sharp with her on the matter. In hindsight, it was a relief to him that it had been Caroline who had stumbled across them rather than an inquisitive servant—or perhaps, he thought, remembering his wife's insistence that Horace had been poisoned, somebody with very ill intent indeed. He wondered perhaps if he should inform Cary of the incident, but just in that moment, the man let out a snort so fierce he was instantly discouraged.

“And you would do well to prove that by ensuring that nothing happens whilst my nephew is under your care to lead your...companions to dredge up certain truths,” he growled, and the look in his eyes was so piercing, so pointed that Dwight was halfway considering whether the man had read his thoughts before he came to his senses. “It would be a poor exchange for him to wake only to have that man poking his nose into old wounds.”

Dwight looked away, his attention drawn back to his patient. George seemed finally to be sleeping peacefully—or as peacefully as one could at least, when one was caught in the grip of such a fever. He let out a quiet sigh. He wished that he could say for sure that Ross would not act in any way detrimental to the man's health should he discover the truth, but, though he knew his friend would not act in malice, he feared that he might be inclined to be...indelicate at the very least, no matter how well-intentioned. But regardless of what Ross—or Demelza, or Prudie, or anybody else who might happen upon him in such a state—would do with such knowledge, he knew that it would be a breach of George's confidence to stand back and risk allowing any of them to discover it. His patient would hate them knowing, he knew, and it was his duty, he thought as he looked into the sleeping man's pain-filled face, to make sure that his secret was kept safe whilst he could not. He may not have guarded it closely enough once, but he would not fail again.

“For his sake,” he said, raising his eyes to meet Cary's gaze head-on. With a deep breath, he sent him a sharp nod. “For his sake, I shall do it.”

[pikapeppa]

Sten/f!Mahariel: Fall Into The Tide, Chapter 2

In which Yara Mahariel is like “CREATORS I’M ON A BOAT” and Sten has all the chill. 

~4300 words; read on AO3 instead.

*******************

Yara hovered in the doorway of the guest cabin. It was a small cabin, just barely tall enough for Sten to stand up straight. The furnishings were sparse: a cedar chest for storage and a plain wooden stool, an equally plain tiny wooden table, and a bed. 

Just the one solitary bed. 

Yara eyed the bed with a nervous sort of writhing in her belly. It was a double bed: a reasonable enough size for a qunari of Sten’s breadth and height, though it probably wouldn’t be comfortable to share. 

Not that we’ll be sharing it, she thought hastily. There was no reason to share the bed, after all; it occupied most of the space in the cabin, but there was enough room on the floor to lay out a bedroll. 

“It is small, but we’ll make do,” Sten said from behind her.

She tore her eyes away from the bed and shifted aside so he could enter the cabin. “Of course,” she said. “It’s, um. At least it’s dry. Having a roof overhead will make for a nice change.” 

He nodded. He was critically inspecting the bed. “We will take turns sleeping in the bed,” he said. “I will sleep on the floor every other night.”

“What?” Yara said in surprise. “No, that’s not – you paid for the cabin, you should sleep in the bed! I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

He shook his head and continued to inspect the mattress. “We will take turns,” he repeated.

Yara tilted her head chidingly, but she didn’t bother arguing with him further. His offer wasn’t motivated by chivalry, she knew, but rather by his sense of what was equal and fair, and trying to argue with him would probably just turn into a discussion of the societal detriment of money as a means of exchanging goods and services. And as much as Yara would usually be game to engage Sten in such a discussion, she was feeling too nervous about their imminent departure to push it.

She shrugged and smiled. “All right, if you insist. I’ll sleep in the bed half the time. I’m not going to argue with you if it’s to my benefit.” 

“It may not be to your benefit if the mattress has bedbugs,” Sten said.

Yara took an involuntary step back. “Does it?” 

He glanced at her, and she relaxed and smiled. “Very funny, Sten.” 

His expression softened, and he turned away from the bed and nodded at the door. “Come. It’s best to start the journey above deck.” 

She followed him out of the cabin. The ship was a smaller craft, manned by about forty women and men from Rivain, and the deck was a bustle of activity as the barefoot sailors pulled on ropes and loosened the sails and prepared themselves to set out. Sten led her toward the left-hand side of the boat – or the port side, as she’d heard one sailor say – and they gazed quietly at the Denerim dockside as the sailors prepared to cast off. 

The docks were still bustling: merchants hawking wares and children playing and residents helping to tidy the debris. Yara watched it all for a moment, then looked up at Sten. “Have you been on many journeys on the sea?”

“Yes,” he said. “Primarily short journeys from Seheron to Par Vollen and back, but also to Tevinter. The journey to this country was the longest I have taken.” 

She nodded, then paused as she realized something. “That reminds me,” she said. “I forgot to ask how long this trip is.”

He gave her an odd look before replying. “It is a three-week journey with swift winds. Maybe longer if the weather is foul.”

She nodded, then raised an eyebrow at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You are unprepared for this journey,” he said.

She let out a little laugh and idly ruffled her hair. “I… yes, you’re right. I really didn’t think about this much.”

His frown deepened. “It is unlike you to act with so little preparation.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I know, I know, you thought I was overpreparing to meet the Archdemon. But it turned out for the best in the end, right? The dwarves in particular really came in handy against those ogres.”

Sten grunted noncommittally. “You should be prepared for what is to come. This is a small vessel. You will likely become seasick.” He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a small sachet that smelled of mint, then handed it to her. “Chew on this if you feel ill, and stand at the bow.” He pointed toward the front of the boat. “Keep an eye on the horizon. It will help your mind and body align, easing the illness that you will feel.”

She smiled up at him. “Are these qunari tips and tricks you’re sharing?”

He gave her a flat look. “This is common knowledge, kadan. It is in your interest to heed it.” 

She chuckled and carefully tucked the mint into her vest pocket. “I hear you loud and clear. Anything else you think I should know before we set out?”

Sten showed her the basic common areas of the ship, and Yara politely introduced herself to the captain and his officers. Upon discovering that she was not only a Grey Warden, but the Grey Warden who had landed the killing blow on the Archdemon, the sailors immediately began peppering her with questions about the Blight and being a Warden and what it was like to face the ancient tainted dragon. Yara tried to hide her weariness as she answered their questions – as much as she could answer their questions, at least, considering that all she knew of the Wardens was what little Alistair, Duncan, and Riordan had been able to tell her. She eventually managed to deflect the sailors’ questions by asking them questions in turn about their jobs, probing them about the places they had travelled and their lives on the sea, and when the topic of conversation turned away from her, she began to feel more at ease. 

Eventually the captain barked at the crew to take their positions and weigh anchor. As they drifted away from her to resume their posts, Yara let out a breath and looked up at Sten, who had been standing silently at her back throughout the conversation. 

He raised his eyebrows, and she smiled and gestured at the port taffrail. He nodded in return, and they drifted over to watch the Denerim docks as the ship began to move. 

The movement was slow and gradual at first as the ship slid out of its narrow berth. They swiftly picked up speed as they left the port, however, and by the time Yara realized how quickly this was all happening – how quickly she was being carried away from dry land, away from the only country she had ever known – Denerim was disappearing into the distance, disappearing with greater speed until she could no longer make out the individual people on the dock. 

She released a slow breath, then inhaled deeply and ran her slightly trembling hands through her hair. The wind smelled fresh and salty, and the ship was sliding smoothly through the deep turquoise depths of the Amaranthine Ocean, and…

Creators, she was on the ocean. She, Yara Mahariel, a Dalish elf who’d been conscripted to become a Grey Warden, was sailing across the Amaranthine Ocean to Par Vollen with her qunari friend. If she hadn’t lived through all the crazy events of this past year, it would seem utterly and entirely mad. 

Fen’ain romped up to her and barked, and she smiled and scratched the big mabari behind his ears. Then Sten spoke to her. “You look pale. Chew the mint if you are nauseated.” 

She glanced at him in surprise, then shook her head. “No, I – I feel fine. I actually… I was just thinking that the air smells good out here. Different.”

He nodded. “The smell of the sea. It is a comfort. Or it would be, if other smells weren’t so pungent.” He shot Fen’ain a pointed look.

Fen’ain cocked his head, and Yara smiled more widely. “You can give him a bath anytime, Sten,” she said playfully. 

“Perhaps I should,” Sten said.

Fen’ain tucked his tail between his legs and whined, and Sten frowned at him. “Cowardice does not suit you,” he said sternly. “Fortunately for you, water is a precious resource on a ship. We will have to suffer your stench for some time longer.”

Fen’ain wagged his tail. Sten shook his head in disappointment before walking away, and Yara watched in amusement as he disappeared into the crew and guest quarters. He emerged shortly after with a book in hand and went up to the forecastle deck, then settled himself on a bench with his book. 

Yara smiled to herself, then turned back to the ocean and inhaled the strange and foreign scent of the ocean. Denerim was already a fuzzy blur on the horizon, notable more thanks to its proximity to the lush verdancy of the Brecilian Forest, and when even the Forest became nothing more than a fuzzy and indistinct blur of green, she sighed.

She felt… odd. Melancholy but light at the same time. Her whole body felt looser than it had in ages, and the near-constant tension headache she’d been having for the past few months was blessedly gone, at least for now. And yet, she couldn’t really say that she was happy. Happier than she was before the Archdemon was dead, certainly, but not actually happy. 

She shouldn’t be expecting to suddenly be happy, though. It wasn’t like everything she’d been through over the past year had gone away. She was still a girl who’d been torn away from her clan against her will. She was still a girl whose best friend had been turned into darkspawn, and whom she’d been forced to kill. She was still a girl who’d been raised up from the comfortable obscurity of the forest into the so-called Hero of Ferelden, whether she wanted to be called a hero or not. 

She took a deep breath and raised her eyes to the cloudless sky. At least here on this ship, she was free from that unwanted title. The Rivaini sailors might find her fascinating, but she’d deflected their attention once already, and she could do it again. And Sten certainly wouldn’t be hero-worshipping her anytime soon, which was an enormous relief. 

She gazed silently at the seemingly endless ocean. The longer she stood there just gazing vacantly at the water, the more oddly tense she started to feel, and she wasn’t quite sure why. 

She sighed and looked over at the bench where Sten was sitting with his book. Then she and Fen’ain wandered up to the forecastle to join him. 

She took a seat on the bench and glanced at the open book in his lap, then double-taked. “Sten, what are you reading?” she demanded.

“A book that the healer mage gave to me,” he said. “It is called The Rose of Orlais.”

Yara gaped at him. “That’s – but that’s a romance novel! You’re reading a romance novel?”

“I am studying it,” he corrected. “The more I learn of your customs, the more complete my report to the Arishok will be. So far, what I have learned is that human customs of mating are inefficient and illogical.” He shot her a frank look. “But the customs of elves are also inefficient, if the assassin’s behaviour toward you was representative.”

Yara laughed.

He raised his eyebrows. “What amuses you?”

“You,” she said warmly. “Sten of the beresaad, studying an Orlesian romance novel.”

He scowled at her. “Do not call me a softie.”

She laughed again. “I wasn’t going to. I was just… wondering, I suppose. Are all qunari like you?”

“We all know our roles in the world and fulfill them for the benefit of all, if that’s what you mean,” he said dryly.

“I don’t really mean that,” she said. “I mean… well, for example, would your brothers in the beresaad study romance novels?”

Sten frowned. “They… did not have the capacity to do so,” he said slowly.

Yara raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“They could not read the common tongue,” he said. “They spoke it passably, but they could not read it.”

“Really?” Yara said in surprise. “You were the only one in your group who could read?”

“The only one who could read your language,” Sten said. “All imekari are equally taught to read in our language.”

“That’s… really nice, actually,” Yara admitted. She’d been shocked and dismayed to learn how many elves in the Denerim alienage didn’t know how to read.

Sten shot her a sideways look. “And that is another sign of the flaws in your society. How can you learn to think if you are not taught to read? If the tools of gaining wisdom are kept from you?”

She grimaced. “I suppose you have a point.”

He nodded, then returned his attention to the book, and Yara watched him fondly for a moment. Sten could rationalize his reading material all he wanted, but she somehow didn’t believe that his only motive was to study.

She shifted a little closer to him on the bench. “Will you read it to me?” she said, half-jokingly.

He shot her a suspicious look. “For what purpose?”

She shrugged. “Why not? I’m not doing anything else right now.”

He looked at her more fully, and her belly did a funny little jolt: he was studying her again in that penetrating way of his. 

“This bothers you,” he said.

She blinked. “What does?”

“Your inactivity,” he said. “Your lack of goal. This is bothersome to you.”

She faltered, thrown off by his change of topic. “I… I don’t know if I’d call it bothersome,” she hedged. “It’s a little strange, maybe. It’s been a while since I was able to just do nothing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is this not a goal in itself among your people? To be able to do nothing?”

She stared at him with growing bemusement. “Why would you think that?”

“Humans gather coin and use that coin to make others do their work for them,” he said. “They pay people in order to have more time to do nothing.”

Yara burst out a laugh. “You know what, that’s true. I guess you’re right. But it’s not like that among my people,” she said. “The Dalish don’t have servants. We all pitch in to benefit the clan. We’re like the qunari in that way.”

“And yet you chose your role,” he pointed out. “You chose to be a hunter, for example, and not a wrangler of those… those creatures with the elaborate horns.”

“The halla,” she said with a smile.

Sten nodded an acknowledgement. “You chose to become a hunter.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “But my clan needed hunters. I was doing something that was needed.”

“But it was a role that you chose,” he said. 

Ah, she thought. Now she knew what his problem was: that she had chosen her own role, and not some supposedly better-informed group of people in authority. 

She tilted her head curiously. “Do you really think it was bad that I was a hunter just because I chose to be one instead of someone else choosing it for me?”

“It’s not a matter of good or bad,” Sten said. “It’s a matter of what is. You cannot choose what you are. The only choice is whether to comply with the nature of the world and your place in it. You understand who you are, or you defy your own nature. That is the only true choice.”

Yara gazed at him with a combination of fondness and exasperation. “But Sten, the Dalish don’t have tamassrans who tell us what to do.”

He leaned away and gave her an approving look. “You do understand the problem, then.”

Utterly nonplussed, Yara stared at him. Then she shook her head and chuckled. “Look, if you didn’t want to read to me, you could have just said so.”

Sten grunted. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t read to you. If you really wish to be treated like a particularly slow imekari, then I will treat you as one.”

She laughed. “You know what, I’ll bear that insult if it means you’ll read to me.”

He inspected her carefully. “Is this another attempt at flirting?”

She snorted another laugh, even as she could feel her cheeks going warm. “Maybe you should keep reading your romance novel and find out.”

Sten scowled. “I am not reading. I am studying.” He smoothed his palm over the page, and to Yara’s great delight, he began to read out loud. “Garren lifted his sculpted chin. ‘It is not a matter of if you will fall for me, my dear, but when. You will have only yourself to blame for the fall.’”

Yara smirked and crossed her legs comfortably on the bench, and for a peaceful time, she listened to Sten’s reading and scratched a very happy Fen’ain behind the ears. 

The afternoon wore on into the evening, and Yara accepted the captain’s invitation to join the crew during the evening meal. She played cards with some of the crew after dinner, and she quietly enjoyed the raucous banter of the sailors as they cursed and laughed at each other over their exchange of coin. But her attention kept drifting to Sten, who had taken his meal alone on the forecastle deck and remained there alone with only Fen’ain for company. 

Later that evening, she returned to sit with him once more while he was sharpening and polishing his sword. He glanced up and nodded when she approached but he didn’t speak, so Yara nodded silently in turn before sitting on the bench and crossing her legs. 

She gazed idly at the gradually darkening sky and breathed in the fresh and salty ocean air. Then, to her mild surprise, Sten broke the silence. “I did not think to ask before. Why did you decide to join me?”

Yara smiled wryly. Everyone else had asked her this, and she supposed it was only fair that the man she was following across the Amaranthine Ocean wanted to know why exactly she was doing it. But her answer for Sten was the same as the one she’d given to Alistair, Oghren and Zevran.

“I don’t know,” she said.

He studied her intently for a moment, then went back to polishing his blade. “This is unheard of, kadan. Qunari always know their purpose.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’m not qunari.”

“That is true,” he said.  He fell silent, and Yara waited for him to say something more. When he didn’t, she shifted a little closer to him.

“I’m surprised you don’t have more to say about it,” she said.

He glanced at her. “What more is there to say?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Something about my purpose being to kill the archdemon, maybe?”

He frowned slightly. “That was not your purpose. That was your mission. You fulfilled your mission, but that is not the same as fulfilling your purpose.”

Yara tilted her head curiously. “What do you mean?” 

He lowered his blade to look at her. “I am the eyes and ears of the antaam,” he said. “That is my purpose. At this moment, I am carrying intelligence back to the Arishok, and that is my mission. What little intelligence that I was able to find, at least.”

Yara snorted. “That was needlessly rude.”

“And yet you laugh,” he said.

She grinned at him. “I didn’t say it wasn’t funny.”

“Hm,” he said, and Yara grinned at him more widely: there was a hint of a crinkle at the corners of his eyes. 

But his next words took the smile from her face. “You lack purpose, kadan. This does not surprise me. You are a Grey Warden, yet you know little of your own order. You do not know yourself, or what you are for. It was cruel of your people to leave you this way.”

She blinked at him, a little taken aback by the bluntness of his statement. “I don’t – I wouldn’t say it was cruel,” she said. “Duncan would definitely have told us more about the Wardens if he had survived the massacre at Ostagar.”

“Yet you entered into your order not knowing that it was a death sentence,” Sten said. “Not knowing that it would bring you restless dreams, or that it would render you sterile.”

Yara stopped breathing for a second. Sten didn’t mean to be cruel, she knew, but the truths he was reminding her of… those were cruel, and she didn’t want to think about it.

She dropped his gaze. “I… no, I guess not.” She shifted on the bench and wrapped her arms around her knees.

Apparently oblivious to her dismay, Sten was still talking. “The tamassrans see that all qunari know themselves,” he said. “I became a soldier of the antaam knowing that I would perish in battle someday. The fact that I have not yet means only that I have more years to devote to my purpose.”

“And you’re just… fine with that?” she said weakly.

“It is to be,” Sten said. “It is the way of things. It is not a matter of being ‘fine with it’. It simply is.”

Yara sighed heavily and rested her chin on her knees. “It must be nice to have all the answers,” she said softly.

“I don’t have all the answers,” he replied. “Only those that I need to fulfill my purpose.”

Yara nodded and swallowed the growing lump in her throat. Sten’s reminders about the most bitter parts of being a Warden were too close to home – too close to the bundle of pain she’d been pushing down since all of this had begun.

“I have upset you,” Sten said.

She looked up to find him still gazing carefully at her. She shook her head slightly. “No,” she said tentatively. “Not… not on purpose, at least. I…” She trailed off and pushed her fingers through her hair as she tried to collect her thoughts. “I just needed to… to think,” she said finally. “And to get away from being the Hero of Ferelden. I guess I was just… hoping to figure out what to do next. And you always know what you’re doing next, so I thought…” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what I thought.”

He nodded. “I understand,” he said. “You are seeking your purpose. I respect this. It is simply pitiable that you must figure this out for yourself.”

She recoiled from him, feeling stung by his words. “You think I’m pitiable?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” he said calmly. “All bas are pitiable, because they do not know the Qun. They are not enlightened, and they do not know themselves. One day my people will return, and they will not longer be pitiable.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Yara said in a hard tone. “And it matters to me what you think. Do you think I’m pitiable?”

He paused and gazed at her for a long moment: long enough that her irritation began to fade. “I do not think you are pitiable, kadan,” he said finally. “It would be easy to think you are running away. But I can see that you are seeking something to run toward.”

She let out a long sigh. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

He nodded and continued polishing his blade, and Yara watched him a little bit sadly. A minute later, he rose from the bench and sheathed the blade. “I will return in a moment,” he said, and he walked away. 

Yara idly petted Fen’ain as she waited for Sten to return. When he came back, he was carrying the cake she’d given him.

He sat on the bench and set the cake between them, then carefully unwrapped it and cut two pieces from it – one considerably smaller than the other. He pushed the smaller piece toward her, and she smiled at him. 

“You’re sharing after all?” she said.

He nodded. “I told you that I might.”

She chuckled and picked up her piece of cake. “You gave me the smaller piece, I see.”

“You are a smaller person,” he replied. “It is only fair.”

She chuckled, then took a bite of cake and chewed it experimentally. It was dense and moist from the applesauce, with just a hint of sour from the dried cranberries studded throughout, and Yara’s throat tightened at the familiar taste of home. 

“It is very good,” Sten said. “Thank you again, kadan.”

His stern face was relaxed. When Yara met his eye, the corner of his mouth turned up in the faintest smile. 

She smiled, then shyly dropped his gaze and tucked her hair over her ear. “Anytime, Sten.”

They sat together on the bow eating their cake and ignoring Fen’ain’s pleading stare. As the colourful canvas of sunset blended slowly into the dark and star-studded nighttime sky, Yara sat quietly next to Sten and listened to the hush of the ocean sluicing past the sides of the ship. 

She sighed and closed her eyes. Despite the constant movement of the ship and the gentle fingers of wind pulling at her hair, she felt very still.

With Sten’s steady presence at her side, Yara felt so very still.