#of course the rest of the chain will find hear him speak eventually and it’ll also be some swear of sorts

[cosmetichorror]

I like to imagine Wild just. Didn’t speak upon first meeting with the chain. No one thought anything of it of course. They just believed he was mute.

But one day.

Wild and let’s say, Legend are patrolling together, and Wild hits his arm on a tree or something, and yells out “FUCK” in the most posh, British accent that ever was spoken. And Legend is just in shock, because 1. He thought this guy was mute, and 2. He didn’t even know it was possible to sound so fancy while saying fuck.

And then Wild turns to him, and says (while still in a heavy British accent): “No one will ever believe you.”

Anyways I love Wild with a British accent and also a potty mouth

[skyward-floored]

For the lu prompts, maybe Time (and Malon too?) pranking some of the chain??

“These’ll be under 1000 words!” I say, you know, like an idiot.

(It’s over 2000)

————————————————————

Malon’s husband was always in a good mood whenever he came home, especially now that he had eight other Links along with him to keep his spirits up.

But today Link had seemed oddly... grumpy. Specifically, grumpy at Twilight, the other hero he was arguably closest with and their descendent of all people.

That was highly unusual.

“Did something happen between you and Twilight?” Malon asks worriedly as they’re getting ready to go to bed that night. “You’ve been shooting him looks all day.”

Link pauses from where he’s unhooking all of his armor (which he’d kept on since he arrived strangely enough), and his face turns grim.

“Yes,” he answers stiffly.

“Well what happened?” she prods, really worried now. Link suddenly looks embarrassed and grumbles something under his breath that Malon can’t hear. “Say again?” Link’s cheeks grow flushed, and instead of saying anything else he simply takes off the rest of his armor.

And underneath it’s revealed that his usual off-white tunic is a bright, gaudy shade of fuchsia.

“That conniving boy of ours dyed all my underclothes pink,” he growls.

Malon blinks, then breaks down into laughter. “Oh goodness! That’s all? I was afraid you’d had a fight or something!”

Link looks a bit put out as she continues to laugh, and he grumpily sits on the bed. “That’s easy for you to say. He also stole my armor so I had to meet Wild’s Zelda like this.”

Malon’s laughter grows and she clutches her side. The mental image of her husband meeting royalty in the honestly hideous shade of pink his clothes are at the moment has her nearly on the floor.

Link continues to pout, and she gives his cheek an apologetic peck once her laughter finally trails off. “Sorry dear, but you have to admit it’s a funny picture. I can only imagine your face.”

He shakes his head as she rolls into bed and pulls the quilt up, shivering a little at its cool temperature. Link continues to grumble next to her as she gets settled, an elbow set on his knee.

“It’s been nearly two weeks and he’s somehow caught everything I’ve set in retaliation,” he sighs, “no matter what I do he finds out and avoids it, or someone else sets it off instead. I’m about ready to tear my hair out, I’m disgracing the proud legacy of Kokiri pranking.”

Malon yawns tiredly. “I’m sure you’ll get him eventually.”

Link grumbles again and shoots her a pouty look. “Do you care nothing of your husband’s honor?”

Malon smiles. He’s always so dramatic. “Of course. But he can’t avoid you forever Link, I’m sure you can, “regain your honor,” as it is.”

Link sighs and finally gets under the covers with her, and Malon nearly breaks into giggles again at his pink nightshirt. Seems Twilight was thorough.

She puts out the light and nestles up to Link, a warm glow of happiness settling through her at being able to sleep with him again. Especially on a chilly night like tonight, another person in the bed is more then welcome.

She’s about to drift off when Link suddenly speaks from next to her.

“What if you help?”

Malon blinks her eyes open and gives him a look.

“Hm?”

Link sits back up in bed, a suddenly devious look on his face, eye shimmering with mischief. “Twilight will be watching me, has been watching me, he’s expecting me to get revenge. But he won’t suspect a thing from you, it’ll be perfect.”

He smiles at her. “What do you say?”

Malon hums and thinks it over. She enjoys a good prank as much as her husband, but she can never get one over on him so she’s only really able to play them on her poor father, who can only handle so much. Besides, Twilight had seemed rather proud of himself all day, and she did have to defend her husband’s honor, didn’t she?

“Oh all right, I’ll do it.”

Link grins and kisses her, his face eager and plotting. “So what are we going to do?”

Malon hums again and snuggles back down next to him.

“Don’t worry about it dear. I’ve got just the thing.”

(...)

The opportunity to put her plan into action doesn’t happen until the next evening, right as she’s in the middle of fixing supper.

She hears the door swing open and turns to see her target standing sheepishly on the porch. Twilight is positively covered in what probably isn’t just mud based on the smell, but there’s a grin on his face as he comes up to the doorway. “Sorry about the mess Malon, those cows of yours are fickle when they choose to be. You by chance have a tub I could use?”

Malon can barely hold in her glee. She couldn’t have hoped for a better opportunity if she’d tried! Whichever cow pushed Twilight into the mud is getting extra feed tomorrow.

“Of course hun,” she says, setting down her rolling pin. “Stay right there.”

She hands him a towel and tells him to wipe off his feet so he won’t get mud on her floor, then forces herself not to skip into the washroom, placing some soap with an extra ingredient mixed in where Twilight will easily see it.

She comes back and tells him there’s supplies in the room for him to use, then shoos him down the hall. Twilight goes to clean up and the others all troop in for dinner a few minutes later, talking about this and that. Link catches her eye and she smiles at him discreetly. Mission accomplished.

All they need to do now is wait.

There’s a comfortable silence in the kitchen as they all help finish up dinner, only occasional words exchanged as they’re all tired from the day’s work. Malon is just taking the last loaf of bread out of the oven when a startled yelp sounds from the washroom.

The door slides open a few moments later and Twilight is standing there with a towel around his head, clad only in pants, his face dismayed.

The others stare at him curiously.

“What’s the matter Twi?” Wild asks.

Twilight opens his mouth then snaps it shut, leaving the room and heading upstairs to where his bag is without a word. The others watch him go, confused looks on their faces, and it’s all Malon can do not to start laughing.

The food is ready soon afterwards, and they all sit down to eat, but Twilight hasn’t come back downstairs yet.

Malon stands at the bottom of the steps. “Twilight! Food’s ready! You better come if you don’t want to eat it cold!” She then goes back to the table and sits with the others to wait as they start to pass the food around, and can’t help but smile. She hears the creak of the floorboards above her and listens to Twilight trail down the stairs, then come into the main room.

He’s less rumpled and wearing a clean tunic now, but the towel is still around his head as he sits down at the table, his eyes narrowed in her Link’s direction. Her husband merely sips some of the milk in front of him with a nonchalant look.

Malon sits and watches this all unfold from a few seats away, and continues to idly pass food around.

“Twilight, take your towel off at the table please,” she manages to say straight-faced. “I’m sure your hair is dry by now, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t accidentally trail my linen through the potatoes.” Twilight hesitates, but she gives him a firm look, and he relents, face beginning to turn pink as he unwinds the towel.

The fabric falls off his head, showing off that Twilight’s usual light brown hair is now a vibrant, glorious shade of green.

The table goes silent as one by one they notice Twilight’s hair, expressions ranging from amusement to near ecstasy forming on their faces. Twilight takes a bite of food and braces himself for the oncoming storm.

“Nice hair,” says Sky with a twitching mouth.

That’s all it takes for the eight of them and Malon to break into uproarious laughter, and Twilight continues to eat, looking near murderous. His face is a lovely shade of red now, a nice contrast against his viridian hair, and Malon can’t help but feel a little sorry for him as the others continue with their hilarity.

“Is this just going to be a thing now?” wheezes Warriors, glancing between Twilight’s hair and Legend’s pink locks. The veteran pauses in his laughter to shoot him a glare. “We all going to get fun hair colors?”

“If I go off by myself will I get blue hair? Or purple! That’d be cool!” exclaims Wind, and Legend rolls his eyes.

The rest of them begin to teasingly compliment Twilight’s new color, Wild saying something about a hydromelon while Hyrule insists it looks more like a green apple.

Twilight gives her husband a vaguely astonished look as the others tease, embarrassment still coloring his cheeks. “How did you do it?!” he asks, leveling Link with a poor impression of his ancestor’s glare. “I was next to you all day, how could you have possibly-“

“Oh it wasn’t me,” her husband says, mirth in his eye. “You’ve got my lovely wife to thank for that.”

Twilight’s eyes go wide and he looks over at Malon, who is giving him a completely innocent smile (ruined by the fact that she’s laughing the hardest out of all of them) and he gives her a wounded expression.

“The soap, you put- Malon! How could you?” he asks, but she can see in his eyes he’s impressed despite his embarrassment.

“I had to defend my husband’s honor,” she explains with a grin, bumping Link’s shoulder. “Someone had to fix his wounded pride, and you had such a solid lock on him that he couldn’t do it himself.”

“That shade of green clashes wonderfully with your eyes,” Link says with a smirk, and Twilight groans.

“All right all right, you got me, we’re even,” he says, and Link nods in satisfaction.

They eventually settle down and resume eating, several more jibes thrown Twilight’s way throughout the meal. They’re nearly finished when the rancher suddenly makes a face, and Four asks him what’s wrong.

“I just realized I’m going to have green hair for the next few months,” he says morosely.

“Oh I’m sure it’ll fade,” Legend interjects in a sweet voice, and Sky nearly chokes on a piece of bread as he laughs. “If I can handle pink, then you can handle green.”

Malon feels a bit bad now, and gives Twilight a genuinely apologetic look. “I didn’t really consider that, I’m sorry hun.”

Twilight waves her off and admits he deserved it. He gives her a genuine look that shows her he doesn’t mind too badly, and she feels better.

“He’ll be fine, it’ll grow out eventually,” Link assures her the others continue to poke fun. The mischievous glint appears again in his eye. “And in the meantime perhaps all the monsters will be scared away by the sight of him.”

She laughs, and offers Twilight some extra dessert as a further apology.

(...)

A few weeks later, after the heroes have gone, Malon receives a letter from Link.

After the usual greetings it goes into great detail about how the next world they ended up in happened to be Twilight’s own, and he had to explain to nearly everyone, including his entire hometown, why his hair was the color it was.

Apparently he had to explain it to Princess Zelda in front of her entire court as well.

Talon finds her a few minutes later laughing so hard she scares the cuccos she’d been feeding nearly out of their feathers.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ok i got an monster tom x scientist reader au universe thing and no it does not take place in the red army base

Reader is a scientist and is asked to run some tests on a new specimen/monster they found, and when reader sees the specimen/monster they actually think it's kinda cute but then some other scientists shock him and even stick some needles in him and reader just feels bad for the specimen/monster at this point so nighttime rolls around and they hack into the cameras to shut them off and wear a mask so they won't get caught and go to the main room where the specimen/monster is they the reader introduces themselves to the monster the monster, thinking they're gonna hurt them, immediately backs off obviously scared and reader convinces the monster that they're not gonna hurt them and the monster shrinks as he's mostly human and says "your not gonna hurt me?" And they reassure him that they're not gonna hurt him and they sneak into the readers car and drives off the lab that the monster was in and reader asks what the "monsters" name is and says their name is "tom". Then reader makes a pit stop to a store real quick to get tom some clothes and then reader drives to they're home and introduces tom to their room and asks if they want some food/ take out or not an he says yes and they get some chinese food and watch some TV, after eating they both go to bed and reader suddenly finds themselves in Toms arms whimpering a little, and reader just kinda decides to pet his hair and rub his horns a little bit which make him purr then tom wraps his tail around reader and asks them to do it more and they do do that untill they notice that he's asleep then they both fall asleep.

Whew, I enjoyed writing this one ^^

Summary: Reader, a scientist, rescues Monster Tom from the lab that experimented on him and brings him home

...............

"Dr. [L/n], I'll let you oversee today's tests on TR-03."

"Alright, chief." You smiled awkwardly as your supervisor handed you the clipboard. It contained the subject's information: a one-eyed horned monster of an unknown species, though your colleagues have theorized it to be a demon. "What kind of tests are we running on it?"

"Resistance to electric shocks. There's evidence of uranium possibly circulating in its blood, so you'll be watching them extract samples as well."

As he explained, your smile gradually dropped as you looked over the information, seeing a ton of redacted information, including several incidents of the destruction it caused prior to its capture.

"So it's gonna be shocked and stuck with needles? Sounds painful."

"Its armor is thick, so it shouldn't feel a thing. Besides...I don't think you need to worry about whether it'll be painful for it." Your supervisor spoke in a rather condescending tone. "After all it's just an animal."

"I...yes, sir. I'll go oversee the tests right away." Not wanting to argue further, you just left his office and wandered through the building.

You were eager yet anxious to meet this monster.

Eventually you reached the area where the creature was being held, climbing up the stairs that led to the skybridge so you could look down into its holding chambers.

It was a massive dark purple creature, with two bright violet horns and a single black eye. Surprisingly it was allowed full movement, though judging from the many claw marks on the walls...it wouldn't surprise you if one day it was chained up to restrict such behavior.

You actually thought it was..kind of cute? It looked scary in pictures, but up-close it didn't seem as terrifying.

That only made you feel more pity for it as other scientists entered the chamber, clad in protective suits, with electric prongs and needles.

Almost immediately the monster seemed aware of what they were going to do, its eye widening as it stood on both feet and cowered in the corner. It growled in warning, only for a scientist to jab its leg with a prong in response, eliciting a roar of pain.

You physically flinched, feeling bad for the creature. But you took notes on its response to electric shocks.

Subject recognized equipment immediately, perceiving them as danger. Responded painfully to electricity.

Soon after being tortured, the monster seemed dazed, allowing another scientist in a hazmat suit to approach it and stick a needle into its hip. The vial of blood collected turned out to be red, with a glowing green aura.

As you took more notes, you heard a small whimper and looked down, seeing that the monster wasn't putting up a fight.

Instead it was...crying?

Sure enough, tears leaked from its eye as more of its blood was drawn, being electrocuted as some sick form of "sedation". It was hard to tell whether the people inside felt any sort of sympathy, but they just took their leave without saying a word to each other. Only a mere nod.

You didn't want to be here any longer than you needed to, so you finished your report and began heading back to your office.

Though you noticed the monster looking up at you, and you couldn't help but frown and murmur a simple:

"I'm sorry."

.............

After your shift was over, normally you'd go home for the night.

But on the ride home...you kept thinking of TR-03 and couldn't shake the images and sounds of its pain.

The way it responded to just seeing the prongs, and the way it looked at you as though it was begging for help, seemed far too human for it to be just a mindless animal.

Of course, you never questioned the secrets this lab kept--not wanting to be fired. But they seemed to be hiding a lot of stuff about this specimen, never speaking about its origins or even what it was capable of.

You may have only seen it for the first time today, but you wanted to know more about it. And you had a feeling that you won't get the answers you wanted by asking around.

Oh no..you were going to free it in order to find out the truth.

Not just to satisfy your own curiosity, but also because...the way it was being treated was far too cruel. To the point where it was crying.

You couldn't stand for this unethical treatment any longer. You had to do something..and be smart about it lest you got killed or worse.

After making a quick stop at a store, you found a mask and changed your clothes, completely disguising yourself. Then you got back in your car and returned to the lab, parking it somewhere far away so that you can sneak inside.

Fortunately you had security access in case any of the specimen breached their chambers. Thanks to your hacking skills you were able to disable every security camera you could find, putting them all on timers so they'd turn on later in the morning. You didn't want to rouse any suspicion.

That was the easy part.

The most important and difficult task lied ahead.

...........

As soon as you entered the monster's chamber, it woke up and grumbled with annoyance. Clearly it didn't like its rest being disturbed.

Though upon seeing you and the mask you wore, it tilted its head. "Grrrah..?"

"Shhh, it's okay." You whispered, removing the mask so it could see your face. While you were awestruck to actually see it up close and personal, you knew you had to keep calm.

But that might've been a mistake as it seemed to recognize you--the one who was watching it earlier today. It immediately backed into a corner, terrified as its chest began heaving with anxiety.

You couldn't blame it for its reaction, though your gently put your hands up and hushed it. "Please don't panic. I'm not here to hurt you. I wanna get you out of here."

"Hrrgrah?"

"Mhm." Smiling, you just pretended you could understand it. "I don't like how they treat you here. They call you an animal but..I know you're more than that."

The monster calmed down a little, before glancing up to the opposite corner. He made a noise of confusion upon seeing that the security camera's annoying red light wasn't blinking.

"I shut that off so nobody can hear or see us."

"H...ack..?"

You blinked, surprised that it could speak some English, but the fact it wasn't cowering like before was a sign it was trusting you. "Yep, I hacked the whole security complex. Now's our chance to escape, but..ah shit."

Suddenly, it never occurred to you: your mission was focused on getting to the monster, but you never considered how you'll get out with the monster.

"Damn..I'm not sure how we'll sneak you out without...." However, you trailed off as you saw it changing into a smaller form.

But it wasn't just shrinking, it was actually turning partially human.

How curious, nobody told you about that. Maybe that was part of the redacted information.

The monster turned out to be a human male, who still retained his horns, tail, and dark scales and fur, which covered his body. His brown hair was messy and spiky, and interestingly enough he had two black eyes.

He didn't have any clothes, obviously, so you took off your coat and put it around him. "So you're human, huh?"

"Your stupid friends' experiments wouldn't let me turn back for a while..." He grumbled in a slight British accent. "You sure you're not gonna hurt me?"

Understandably he got defensive, knowing you were working for the people who tortured him. But you shook your head. "No, I won't. I'm quitting this shithole and I'll take you with me." You took his hand reassuringly, noting that it was still clawed.

He gave you the tiniest of smiles in return. "Heh, glad we're both in agreement."

Soon you both quickly made your escape, luckily not running into any trouble. Your car was still parked right where you left it, so you got in and drove off.

You definitely won't miss working for that lab.

The roads were mostly empty at this time of night, so you were able to breathe easy knowing nobody's gonna chase you. Now seemed to be the best time to talk with the monster.

"So uh..do you have a name?" You spoke up. "I know they call you TR-03 but it doesn't feel right to call you that anymore."

"Tom." He answered as he looked out the window. "My name's Tom Ridges."

'Huh, that explains his code name.'

"I'm [y/n]." After noticing a nearby plaza, you saw a clothing store and decided to make a quick stop there. Tom seemed to be confused, and a bit worried when you left him in the car all alone, though you reassured him you were just buying some clothes for him.

He waited, trying to keep himself out-of-view in case any strangers got too nosy. But before long you were back, opening the driver's side as you peered in and sighed with relief, seeing him halfway out of the chair.

"Jeez, you scared me..thought somebody got you." You sighed, shaking your head.

"S-Sorry, not trying to get any unwanted attention. It's the last thing I need.." He sat upright, though he was surprised when you handed him a bag. Inside was a blue hoodie, boxers, and gray sweatpants. "Oh, cool."

'That's all he has to say?' His reaction was a bit underwhelming. 'Then again..maybe he hasn't processed that he's never going back to that hell chamber yet.'

You just shut the door and waited for him to get dressed, and when he tapped on the window you got back into the car. He definitely looked more comfortable now.

After giving him a smile, you continued on your way home, feeling glad that you rescued him from that place. You had no idea if he had any place to go, granted you don't recall seeing any information on his address nor any relationships.

So he'll stay with you.

...........

"Luckily I got a spare room. Excuse the mess." You chuckled as you showed Tom the extra room in your house, turning on the light. "You can stay here for as long as you'd like."

He nodded as he looked around, before feeling his stomach grumble. In embarrassment he put a hand over it, glancing at you. "Sorry..the food they had was shitty, I'm sure you knew."

"Yeah...you want takeout?" You took out your phone. "I don't feel like cooking tonight so I was gonna order some anyway."

"Sounds good."

"Alrighty, I'll call in the order. We can go watch TV while we wait."

Once more Tom nodded, following you into the living room space where you both sat down on the sofa. He sighed and leaned back, turning on the TV while you ordered some Chinese food.

This situation felt so...comforting and familiar..

For a moment he gazed at you, seeing you look through the menu.

He knew he wasn't the only prisoner back in that lab. So he couldn't understand why you'd choose him, of everyone you could've helped, but...he considered himself lucky.

For once he felt like he could let his guard down a little.

Some time later the food arrived to your house, and you both ate it while watching various TV programs. You asked Tom a bit more about his home life, though he didn't have much to talk about.

Whether he didn't want to say anything or forgot it thanks to the experiments was a mystery, but you wouldn't pry. You'll get your answers sooner or later, though not tonight.

Tonight you both deserved a good rest.

Afterwards you headed off to your own room, letting him know that he can knock on your door if he ever needed anything.

You got into your pajamas and crawled into bed, yawning.

It had definitely been an eventful day. You were eager to sleep in, knowing that you won't ever go back to your boring (and unethical) job.

But just as you had turned off the lights and dozed off, you heard your door creak open. With a slightly annoyed sigh, you sat up and turned on the lamp beside you, before seeing it was Tom.

"Tom? Your room is..."

Though you fell silent when you heard him...whimper? His eyes were white, indicating he was in some kind of distress.

But he crawled onto your bed, practically situating himself in your arms while making sure he didn't jab you with his horns. You were perplexed by his actions, though you finally realized..

He was just scared.

You held him in your arms, rubbing his horns soothingly and petting his hair, murmuring promises that he was safe. In response he nuzzled up to you, tail wrapping around your body as you both laid down.

You only stopped for a moment as he started purring, which made you chuckle softly. "Purring, huh? That's new."

"Can you keep doing that?" He grumbled, closing his eyes. "It was nice till you stopped."

"O-Oh right, sorry." You continued the previous motions, deciding to hum a small song as well to help him sleep.

Eventually you stopped once he dozed off completely, and your cheeks felt warm upon seeing how adorable he looked. 'And to think I was afraid of this guy?' You mused, before turning off the lamp light.

Soon enough you fell asleep as well.

If this is how Tom expressed his thanks...you'll take it.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS DAYLIGHT  Vol.5 Sakamaki Kanato [TRACK 2]

Original title: すれ違う心

Source: Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 5 Sakamaki Kanato

Audio: Here (Huge thank you to @filthyhelplessworld​ for providing the audio!)

Seiyuu: Kaji Yuki

Translator’s note: The MC’s health is obviously getting worse and I really fear for her with a boyfriend whose best solution is to completely disregard her concerns and lock her up in the underground dungeon. I’m still betting that all of this karma will come and bite Kanato in the ass though. I’m just waiting for the angsty stuff to kick in because he needs a taste of reality.

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 2: Hearts Growing Apart

You are in the kitchen making sweets.

*Thud*

*Ping ping*

Kanato enters the kitchen.

“Hm...I have no complaints about the scent. Is this the sponge for the cake?”

You nod.

“Your hands have stopped moving. Please continue.”

You continue beating the egg whites in a bowl.

[00:24] “Fufu...Cut the cookies into bear shapes, okay? I want two kinds, both chewy and crispy. I grow tired if there’s no variety in the texture after all. ...Ah, I’d like my pudding on the firmer side with bittersweet caramel sauce on top, okay? I’m especially picky when it comes to chocolate. The cacaー”

Your movements stop again as you grow dizzy.

“...? What’s wrong? Now’s not the time to rest. I want to eat these soon so stop dawdlーー”

You nearly collapse, knocking over the bowl with cream in the process.

*THUD*

[00:56] “...! Ah!! The cream…!!”

*Rustle*

“Tsk...It turned out so well too...This all happened because you were spacing out…!”

You explain.

[01:13] “Hah…! You’re at it again with the sick act? Whenever things don’t go your way, you always blame it on feeling unwell! I bet you’re feeling faint because you let one of the other guys suck your blood, am I wrong!? Was it...Reiji again, perhaps? Even though you promised you would stay away from him!”

“SHUT UP!!”

*Thud*

[01:39] “I thought you were actually being a good girl and making the sweets I asked for but in the end, this is what I get! After you promised me several times too...Honestly...I’m so through with you!!”

*Rustle rustle*

“Haah…”

Kanato starts dragging you along.

“You want to know where we’re going? Oh no, you’re not going anywhere from here on out.”

*TIMESKIP*

*Cling cling*

*Rustle*

[02:23] “No, I won’t stop. Someone like you deserves no better than to be locked up inside the underground dungeon like this.”

You protest.

“Haah...You only have yourself to blame. For breaking our promise and letting someone else suck your blood.”

You deny it.

“SHUT UP! How many times are you going to lie to me? PLEASE DON’T MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME BY ASSUMING I’D BELIEVE YOUR WORDS OF DENIAL!”

You beg.

[02:58] “...If you want me to listen to the whole story, then promise me you will never tell a lie again.”

You promise.

“Haah...Okay then. I suppose I wouldn’t mind listening a little.”

You start explaining.

“...Your health actually has been in poor condition, you say? You sure are insistent about that part.”

You continue talking.

[03:28] “So? ‘At this rate you will ーー’ What? You’re not going to tell me you’ll die, right?” 

You remain quiet.

“Kuh. CUT IT OUーー”

You nod.

“Huh? ...Say, did you...perhaps nod just now? Do you truly believe you will die if things continue down this path?”

You nod again.

“That...doesn’t make sense.”

You tell him it’s the truth.

[04:14] “You’re just joking when you say you might not have much time left, right?”

You shake your head.

“You want me to mentally prepare myself for the worst…? Ridiculous...I mean, there’s just no way you would die, right!?”

You try to make him face reality.

“SHUT UP!!”

You speak up again.

“SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!! YOU JUST CAN’T DIE!! ...Stay here until I give you permission to leave!”

Kanato stomps away.

“Kuh…!”

*Thud*

*TIMESKIP*

[04:59] “Nn...Here. You should try one of the cookies as well. You haven’t been eating at all this whole time, have you?”

You politely refuse.

“Even if you’re lacking an appetite, you should be able to at least eat the things I bring you, no?”

You hesitantly grab a cookie.

[05:26] “Mmh. Better. Umー Where were we again…? Ah, right! I remember now! Honestly, I was so surprised to find out there was another human out there who has blood as sweet as yours! Well, I just so happened to cross paths with her on my way home from school, of course. ...You probably shouldn’t give yourself too much credit for having special blood. If you continue to be disobedient, you might just find yourself thrown aside by me at some pointーー Just kidding. Fufufu…”

You remain quiet.

[06:19] “Hey? Are you listening? You didn't nod off while I was talking, did you?”

You shake your head.

“Good. You’ve been quiet this whole time though. You should say something as well. Anything will do. What has been on your mind today, or what you would like to do if I were to free you from down here, for example.”

You tell him you want to see the outside world. 

[06:56] “Hmph. What will you gain from watching the scenery outside? Your eyes should only ever be on me.”

You go silent again. 

“Hah! Ridiculous! I’m here trying my best to strike up a conversation, yet you have nothing else to tell me?”

You bring up your health.

[07:24] “Aah...But I’ve heard enough about that. I’m sick and tired of hearing you say how you’ll ‘die’ or whatever…”

You try and reason with him.

“STOP! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT! ...Haah. We were having such a lovely chat as well, but you completely ruined it.”

Kanato gets up.

“My mood has been ruined. I will excuse myself for today.”

He leaves.

*Thud*

[08:01] ( You told me I was doing the wrong thing time after time. Trying to convince me that locking you up in that dim lit underground dungeon would only speed up the process and lead to an early death. You would even burst out into tears, worried about what would happen to me once I’m left behind. 

[08:19] Every time, I would grow upset and refuse to listen to you, covering my ears while simply turning a blind eye to everything, as I kept you imprisoned down there. Because I truly believed that if I kept at it long enough, you would eventually give in and stop saying that you were dying.

[08:42] ...I wonder why I didn’t just accept your words back then? Why didn’t I try and do something about the abnormal condition of your heart, even though I had taken notice of it? I never thought I would one day ask myself those questions over and over again. )

*TIMESKIP*

Kanato approaches you in the dungeon.

[09:10] “You seem rather out of it today. Do you have any idea how much time has passed since you were brought here?”

You shake your head.

“I suppose you don’t? ーー Or perhaps…”

*Cling*

“I guess you no longer care, do you? After all, right now the only thing which matters to you, is the person standing in front of you, right? Correct?”

You nod.

[09:50] “Fufu. You’ve become such a good girl. Well then, come here. I will let you embrace me as your reward.”

You move closer and wrap your arms around him.

*Cling cling*

[10:12] “...Haah...We will be together forever, okay? Please don’t say you’ll die ever again. ...You’re not going anywhere. You can’t even run. It’ll be just the two of us for eternity. I’m sure you feel the same way right now?”

You reluctantly nod.

[10:50] “...What was that just now? It appeared to me that you only nodded because you had no other choice. I can tell you’re hiding how you truly feel. ...Tell me loud and clear. How do you feel?”

You keep quiet. 

“Haha...Hahaha...So you really can’t let go of the possibility that you’ll die one day, no matter how many times I tell you that we’ll be together forever, can you? ...Cut it out alreaーー”

You speak up.

[11:31] “...’But’, what?”

You tell him he will be okay and can simply find another human to feed off of. 

“Did you just...tell me that I’ll be okay even if you die, because there’s plenty of replacements for you out there?”

You nod.

[11:50] “So...That’s all what matters? No way...What makes you believe you have the right to decide that on your own? Who told you to think that way!? Well...I won’t deny that I discovered someone with sweet blood in town the other day, but you’re still on a whole different level! ...ABOVE ALL!!”

*Cling*

[12:19] “Didn’t I tell you just now? That you won’t go anywhere, nor can you run away, so the two of us will be together forever…! Tsk...Yet...Kuh...Yet you have the nerve to…!! ...Honestly...I’ve had enough of this.”

You try to comfort him.

“Hah! ...Stay away from me.”

He walks away.

[12:57] “I’m sick of talking to you. Or rather, I suppose you could say that my love for you has faded.”

*Cling*

“That’s the key to those chains. From today onwards, you’re a free woman. I no longer care about you. ーー Just like you said, there’s plenty of people who can replace you out there. ...Farewell.”

Kanato leaves.

[13:38] “...Kuh!! She’ll die? Ridiculous! There’s just no way I would be left behind on my own. Yet she keeps on saying that she’ll die and to make matters worse, even has the nerve to tell me I could simply replace her! Where on earth did she get that ludicrous idea from!? ...I should just push her away for a bit. I’ll make her regret her words! Until she lets go of those ridiculous thoughts!”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[topaziraphale]

Love to imagine that there were a few close calls with Gabriel where aziraphale had to pretend to smite crowley, which involved a lot of aziraphale pinning him down and a lot of sword bearing. Crowley very quickly finds out he has one hell of a kink ;)

    “Of course I’m letting you win,” Crowley answers, banishing the dirt and wrinkles from both his and Aziraphale’s clothes with a snap of his fingers. Then, on a whim, he clears off any lingering sweat beading on his skin. He can’t do anything about the flush on his face and neck, or the way his legs are still wobbling. “Can’t have you losing in front of your own lot, can we? They might try and help you out, y’know. Might be worse for me in the long run, ‘s only selfish.”

    Aziraphale’s frown deepens at the implication. “Oh. I assume this means I’ll have to let you overtake me when your people show up, then?”

    “Er, you won’t. Have to. Do that, I mean.” Crowley stammers. Aziraphale raises his eyebrows. “They won’t crawl all the way up here to talk to me,” he elaborates, “they’ve got the radio and telly for that.”

    “Oh,” Aziraphale says again, fumbling with the lowest button on his waistcoat for a moment. “Yes, quite right.” He smiles nervously. “Erm...” Crowley pretends he doesn’t notice the blush subtly rising on Aziraphale’s cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Well, knowing that, I must say that is very—”

    “—no—” Crowley groans in annoyance, knowing exactly where that sentence is going, throwing his head back and grimacing.

    “—kind of you to do, to let me win even though it’s all a ruse,” Aziraphale continues, his smile changing from nervous to irritatingly fond and knowing. “Rather considerate.”

    “Fantastic,” Crowley grumbles, his face burning brighter for a different reason now. “Really made my day with that one, you did.”

     In the short silence that follows, Crowley sniffs and looks down at his shoes, pretending to inspect them for any clumps of dirt. He realizes, belatedly, that neither of them cared to fix the messy state of the greenery and soil beneath them. It clashes with the rest of the neat, freshly mown blades of grass in this conveniently empty section of the park — a stark reminder of what just happened. The sight of it makes Crowley shiver. Suddenly his resolve to stay cool and collected vanishes into thin air. He hastily looks back up to find Aziraphale fiddling with the chain of his pocket watch, and he gulps.

    “Er,” he starts awkwardly, nearly freezing when Aziraphale makes eye contact with him. “Right, anyway, I just remembered I have something to do. It’s important. I’ll pick you up later, shall I?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He spins on his heel, turning his back on Aziraphale and shoving his hands in his pockets, making his smoothest attempt at nonchalance as he starts walking away. “I’ll meet you in the front of the bookshop.”

    “What? Wait,” Aziraphale calls. “You’re leaving already?”

    Crowley stops in his tracks, shock still, his breath hitching in his chest. He couldn’t have been found out. He wasn’t that loud, was he? Aziraphale doesn’t know, can’t know. If he knew…

    “Won’t be long,” says Crowley, gritting his teeth, hoping he doesn’t have to outright lie, hoping Aziraphale doesn’t push. “An hour, at most. We won’t miss our reservation.”

   “I… er, very well,” Aziraphale eventually says, sounding confused and a little hurt. “But, before you go, I need to ask you about… just now.”

    There’s a brief moment of silence, and Crowley holds his breath, chills cold as ice sliding from the back of his neck down along the knobs of his spine as fear builds in his lower gut. When Aziraphale speaks up again, his voice is slightly deeper than normal.

     “I hurt you this time, didn’t I?”    

      Crowley blesses under his breath. It takes all he has in him not to react outwardly, to lose his carefully constructed neutrality right then and there. Instantly, his mind plays back the stunt Aziraphale pulled only minutes ago.

    It’s practically routine for them at this point, really; it’s a way for them to get out of a damning situation in a pinch. If someone from work unexpectedly shows up, they pretend to be mortal enemies, doing what mortal enemies are obliged to do should they ever cross paths: fighting to the death. (Discorporation, in these cases — and even then, they only need to make the viewer think that a discorporation has taken place, should it ever go that far.) It’ll be seen as two adversaries busy with work, and whoever it was that checked in will usually leave within a minute or two to let them get back to it.

    They were taking a leisurely walk and having a (slightly heated, in the angel’s case) conversation about some of the menu changes at the Criterion, when Aziraphale suddenly kicked Crowley’s feet out from under him, pinning him face-down into the ground with his knee pressed onto his back. He had yanked his hair, forcing his head up, and swiftly brought the edge of a sword — having manifested the weapon from thin air — onto Crowley’s exposed neck. Crowley was hard in his trousers before he even realized what was happening, before he could even guess that Gabriel or any other one of those wankers was probably nearby, watching, and that Aziraphale was faking the attack like he had done many times before to keep them both safe.

    But for a moment, Crowley didn’t know that.

     As Crowley had grabbed fistfuls of dirt and grass and writhed under the perfect weight of Aziraphale’s body, he had thought it was real, and that Aziraphale really was going to smite him this time, and that he was truly at his mercy, finally getting everything he wanted. It was too much, the ringing in his head from falling to the ground, the pain in his spine, the white-hot burn in his scalp. Crowley couldn’t move and the sword was cold and sharp on the delicate skin of his neck and Aziraphale put his lips to his ear to whisper something and it sounded harsh and commanding and he whimpered—

    “Crowley?”

    Crowley blinks back to himself, his eyes wide behind dark lenses. He hears Aziraphale’s footsteps approaching him, the soft crunching of the grass beneath two Oxfords deafening amongst the low rumble of blood rushing through his ears.

     “No,” he blurts out, his voice thin. “I’m fine, it’s fine.”

    The footsteps stop. His entire body is trembling now, every inch of skin charged as if with electricity, surely to go off at the slightest touch. He clears his throat, vaguely wondering how much of a disaster it would be if he had to look Aziraphale in the face during all of this.

    “I’m fine,” he repeats in a more natural tone. “Don’t make a fuss over it, you didn’t hurt me.” You did. “Same as always, nothing different about it this time.” Hurt me again. And again and again, until my throat is raw from screaming, until my face is wet with tears. Make me beg for it.

    “It most certainly was not the same, you had no idea I was even going to attack you,” Aziraphale comments, sounding just this side of stern. Crowley’s stomach curls with something too close to pleasure from the tone of voice. Aziraphale sighs. “Are you quite sure I did not hurt you by accident?” he asks gently, because it’s just like him to have concern for Crowley’s well-being, even at the worst possible times. He takes one step closer, the space separating their bodies no bigger than an arm’s-length. Crowley can feel his stare burning right through his soul, can almost feel the heat radiating from his body. “I only ask because, ah, when you cried out, just then, you seemed…”

    Alarms blare in Crowley’s racing mind.

     Cried out, cried out.

    Aziraphale did hear him.

    And now he’s asking about it.

    Crowley goes from half-hard to fully erect so quickly that it makes him dizzy, his dick throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Aziraphale only has to take a couple steps toward him and circle around to his front, and then he’ll have full view of the state Crowley is in. Then Crowley would have to explain himself, and he would be mortified, he’d be so humiliated, and the fear of it only makes his cock harder. There’s just not enough self-preservation in his current, lust-crazed state of mind to not want anything more than that.

     “— truly distressed,” Aziraphale continues, pronouncing the words with the same caution one would use when walking on a tightrope. Crowley hears the faintest of wavers in his voice only because he’s known the bastard for too long. “I was afraid I used too much force this time.”

     You could have used more. Used all of it. Put me in my place. Burned me with your light until I’m nothing, until I’m dust at your feet. Please, angel…

     Crowley holds his breath again, the muscles in his neck tightening and his jaw aching with the effort it takes to kill the moan forcing its way up into his throat. His legs feel like jelly. The temptation to fall on his knees and admit it is palpable. He might as well come clean. Even if nothing happens now, Aziraphale will bring it up again later. That’s just how he is. Better to get it over with…

    “No,” he croaks. He’s blushing so hard that the skin on his face and scalp itches furiously. “I wasn’t, I didn’t…”

    “You’re sure?”

    “Yes.”

    “Truly?”

    “For Heaven’s sake, Aziraphale, I told you I’m alright,” Crowley snaps. More than alright. Crowley knows he’s going to revel in the ache for days, but he also knows, acutely, that he’s only jeopardizing himself more the longer he stays in this blasted park. He’s sure he wouldn’t be able to survive another round of questions; he can already feel his admittedly weak resolve slipping in the face of those warm, seaglass eyes, beckoning him to spill his guts and spew the awful, contemptible fantasies of being taken right there in the dirt, like he deserves, with a sword trained on his back and the angel’s name in his mouth. The only thing keeping him from doing it is his knowing how said angel would react — with an upturned nose and a look of disgust only reserved for the lowest of scum. He can’t do that to him, can’t be that to him.

“Oh, right then, that’s good,” Aziraphale’s voice suddenly pulls him out of his reverie, sounding disappointed, “that’s a relief.”

Crowley then hears the telltale rustle of clothes as Aziraphale fidgets, probably adjusting his waistcoat, before he calls out, “Well then, don’t let me keep you, dear fellow. Do mind how you go.”

    “Same to you,” he says back, feeling moderately guilty.

     He snaps his fingers, bringing himself to his flat. He lands on his back on his luxurious bed. The cool satin sheets do nothing to calm his rapid pulse or the lick of shame that follows as he claws at his belt, the zip’s teeth not daring to catch as he shoves his trousers down and takes himself in hand. The guilt instantly melts away, but the shame stays, however it only proves to spur him on even more.

    Aziraphale will forgive him by the time they meet back up for dinner.

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

((I originally meant to use a couple lines of dialogue as an answer to this ask but then it turned into a small little fic, thingy, yeah. Huge thanks to @divinehedonism for beta reading this for me!!))

[kirishwima]

So @purple-thrill suggested Lucifer punishing/forcing Mammon and Levi to get along by handcuffing them together and i can’t help but write a hc for that ;u;

* It was Asmodeus that suggested it initially-Lucifer had been so frustrated, another mess in the House of Lamentation occurring because of this chaotic cat-dog duo, that he, of course, had to clean up after

* Asmo just happened to be at the right place, at the right time-passing by the half-destroyed library to hear Lucifer grumble ‘will those two ever be civil with one another’

* Of course he didn’t need to ask who he meant-such destruction only occurs when Levi and Mammon are left unattended together for too long. So with a mischievous grin, he left, skipping gleefully as he went back to his room, grabbed a certain something from his bedside table and walked back to Lucifer nonchalant.

* “You know”, Asmo hummed as he leaned on the door, twirling a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs between his fingertips, “if being nice doesn’t work, a punishment is always due~ You of all people should know that” he grinned.

* Lucifer raised a brow, nodding to the pair of handcuffs in Asmo’s grip. “I hardly doubt chaining them with something so easily...breakable would do the trick”.

* But of course, Asmo doesn’t deal in cheap products-and he was about to prove it.

* The same morning, when all the brothers met for breakfast, Lucifer made it so Levi and Mammon would have to sit next to one another-and glared them into submission before either one could complain about it.

* Before either one could even take a fork or knife in their hands however, Lucifer merely nodded, and Asmo was there, grabbing both their hands and shoving them together, cuffing them up with the fluffy handcuffs.

* Both of them stared for a moment, stunned into silence-before chaos erupted.

* “What-what kinda crap is this?!” Mammon screamed, pushing his chair away, “ya think this is some kinda joke?!”

* “Wha-You-The only person I’ll ever allow to handcuff me is Ruri-chan, and no one else! How dare you-!”

* At the same time, they both tried to pull away, to break the chains off-only to find they became tighter around their wrists, the chain link between them shortening.

* “Ah ah-I wouldn’t do that if I were you my dear brothers”, Asmo hummed, “you see the more you tug at these handcuffs the shorter and tighter they become. We wouldn’t want whoever wears them to just break them and ruin the fun, now would we?” his grin turned menacing, his gaze an icy fire.

* “He’s right”, Lucifer chimed in, “and you two will wear this for the rest of today-the more you struggle the worse it’ll be for you both, so I suggest you behave” he added, casually taking a sip from his cup of coffee.

* The two stared at their oldest brother, eyes wide. 

* “You-you can’t be serious....” Mammon started, “Lucifer, you freaking-”

* Yet he didn’t dare finish that sentence. Not when Lucifer turned to him with a raised brow, a small smirk on his lips as if daring him to finish what he was saying.

* Well...eventually they both decided to skip school, to save face (if possible-Asmo and Satan must’ve already spread the word of this morning’s events to half the school by now). 

* But when it came to how they’d fill their time until nighttime....there were some arguments. Some.

* “I SAID we’re going to my room, and you’ll shut up and behave while I stream!” Levi huffed, a hand on his hip.

* “No you damn weeb”, Mammon cried, “you’re gonna shut your mouth and come to the casino with me-I need two hands to handle the machines so you gotta act as my second arm!”

* They kept fighting for the better half of an hour, until they both tried to go their separate ways-only for the handcuffs to become tighter, cladding onto their wrists, the chain between them shortening until they could barely turn to face opposite directions, if at all.

* Eventually they settled to spend the remainder of their time as er-conjoined twins, so to speak, in MC’s room. Mammon was the one to suggest it, of course, and Levi merely shrugged, agreeing only if he could bring his phone and some manga along with him to pass the time whilst Mammon nonchalantly claimed MC’s room as his, even hiding a couple of their stuff to prank them when they came home.

* Did this experience teach either of them anything at all? No, not really. Did they both agree to try and not piss of Lucifer for the next couple of days? Yeah, at least until their wrists stopped hurting.

* All in all...Luci, sorry bby, you’re gonna have to deal with your trouble-making brethren for a couple millenia longer 

-send me a headcanon for character reactions!-

[lia-writes]

bloodflood

pairing: geralt of rivia x reader

summary: the one where the reader gets injured, doesn’t tell geralt and he eventually takes care of her anyway!  a/n: lots of requests came in for something along these lines so hope you enjoy it! something for jaskier next, i promise. 

;

The pain has you gripping at the reins to stop your hands from shaking and you can’t quite remember the closest town being this far away.

Geralt falls silent, the only sound between you being the occasional snorts from each of your horses and the brief “hellos” from travelers heading in the opposite direction.  

You’ve become acutely aware of the stinging, wet pain at the back of your head, hidden from Geralt by the hood of your cloak.  

All you can do is keep moving forward and ignore the way your eyesight swims with the effort of staying awake.  

Each step of your horse sends another deep ripple of pain through your head. The small cottages on the outskirts of the town are still yet to appear on the horizon line. You think about saying something but can't seem to make it past your pride.  

Of course, Geralt had noticed the seconds after the fight, where you’d faltered as you were sheathing your sword. How you’d stumbled when you’d picked your way around the scattered Nekker bodies.  

What he hadn’t seen was the way you’d tripped as you were dodging out of the way of a Nekker, landing on your ass and the momentum throwing your head back into a rock.  

He was yet to say anything.  

The air is cool, the sun drifting toward the edge of the world. Still, even with the fresh breeze, you feel nothing close to refreshed. The hot rush of blood that throbs through your veins with each stab of pain, lines your skin with goosebumps.  

It’s only when your horse startles at a pair of birds that suddenly fly across your path, that you let your tight-lipped expression morph into one of anguish. The accompanied sharp yelp has Geralt nudging Roach forward from where she’d settled into place behind your horse. Normally, the acts of your high-strung mount would elicit laughter, Geralt wasn’t sure he’d ever witnessed you in true pain before and he wasn’t used to such silence – in all honesty, he’d been enjoying the change.

He glances down at the whites of your knuckles where you’ve knotted your fingers into the long mane in front of you and feels the gut-punch of guilt.  

For a moment he simply casts an eye over you, attentively and trying to find any source of injury.

“You’re hurt,” he says eventually, letting his hand reach out to rest against your thigh. You make no move to swat it away.  

“’m fine,” you mumble and he shifts Roach closer, until your knee bumps against his. An action had it happened at any other time, would have you feeling giddy. Now, you sway in the saddle and Geralt simply raises an eye at your pale, clammy skin when you glare at him.

Geralt doesn’t reply and instead, pulls Roach to a halt and swings his leg up and over her neck to land facing your horse.  

Your gelding stops after a couple more steps and you whine in pain.

He says your name sharply before sighing. “Why didn’t you say anything?”  

“s’not that bad,” you get out, hands still clinging to the mane.

“Let me help you down,” he speaks slowly, and when you attempt to protest, he sighs again, louder this time, his patience wearing thin.

Roach shakes her head, chain on the bit jangling as Geralt reaches up to try and help you.

As soon as his arm wraps around your frame, you quite literally give up your valiance, in one simple swoon. when your feet hit the ground, your hand instinctively snaps up to palm the back your head.  

“Okay... Let’s see it then.”  

Eventually, you pull back your cloak, and he sidesteps to stand behind you.  

“It’s not that bad, huh?” His fingers move to brush some of the hair away and you shrink away from him.

“Geralt, don’t touch it.”

One hand catches your shoulder, before wrapping around you to guide the two of you off the dirt path you’d stopped on.  

At the sudden movement, the pain thrums. Geralt says something you don’t hear and it’s then, that your knees buckle.  

Moments pass. You’re not sure how long you’re out, but you come to still in immense pain.

“Ugh, gods.” you mutter, eyes squinting in the soft rays of the setting sun. 

A gentle snort of a nearby horse tells you that you’re still near the side of the road. It takes a while for you to notice Geralt sitting nearby, his own gaze moving from the plants laying in front of him and you... Also lying rather ungracefully in front of him.

“’m pathetic,” you whine and he rolls his eyes, “how bad is it?”

“Well, what I can tell you, is that you’re now a redhead....” he shifts closer, helps you sit up and passes you some kind of herbal mix in an old bowl. You stare at it until he guides your hand toward your face.

“What’s in it?” you look to him and he keeps a neutral expression – meaning... Nothing good.  

“Better if you don’t ask, I think. It’ll help...”  

After a moment, you force it down, instantly pulling a face at the taste, “oh fuck that. I’d rather have the pain than this.”  

He ignores your comment, pulling out a clean piece of cloth and a bottle of herbal antiseptic that you’d made and told him you swore by.  

“Ah-ah,” you try and shuffle backward in your sitting position, “ow- but no, that’ll hurt more.” you lean away.

“Stop... being difficult.” Geralt’s beginning to find it hard to remain patient in your presence.  

After a moment, you exhale and let your hands clasp and unclasp in your lap, in anticipation of more pain.

He’s careful, his touch oddly gentle. From his place knelt behind you, he winces when you let out a pained whimper. 

You glance down at the red-stained cloth that Geralt discards to the side

“Are we going to... Camp here?” you ask.

“Yes.”  

“Well, I hope you’re prepared to keep me warm.”

“I haven’t thought about anything else.” He says sarcastically and you pout.  

“Right, just fuck off and leave me here then.”  

He stands and starts to move back toward Roach and his saddlebags.  

“Wait, Geralt.” he pauses with his back to you, “I didn’t mean it,”  

“I know, but I also don’t want to starve.”  

“oh,” fair enough, you think, beginning to feel the effects of whatever Geralt gave you only five minutes ago.  

“Are you going to yell at me?”  

“For what? Not telling me you were hurt? That only made you hurt more – I've still had to help you as I would have if you’d told me before we’d gotten back on our horses.”

You begin to cry, rather pathetically and Geralt falls silent. He was expecting you to fall asleep fairly quickly. The tears were new, but despite his unease, an innate need to comfort you lights up his body.  

The feeling that melts between the two of you is one of tenderness mixed with undertones of worry.

You’re small, nestled against his frame. Geralt started a fire before helping you over to sit between his legs, back resting against his chest.  

The warmth from the fire and Geralt’s body heat lulls you into an almost sleep. Your head tilts back against his shoulder and in a loopy-quickly-becoming-painless way, reach up to let your fingertips brush across his jaw.  

“Thank you, Geralt,”  

“Anytime, love.”  

“...For taking care of me... thanksss. Don’t let me get cold.” Your last comment is deadly serious and he chuckles softly.

“Yeah, yeah,”  

You smile, dumbly.  

“So... Do you love me then?” you ask suddenly too groggy to discern between the feeling and the affectionate term  

Geralt pauses to take in the sweet expression on your face because fuck the way he’d convinced himself that he was immune to human emotion. He couldn’t imagine a life in which he wouldn’t love you.  

You were the one thing every other person on the Continent continued to tell him that he would never have.  

Someone to love him back, for reasons more than what he could simply give them in return. You gave him all that he never wanted, but began to believe he truly needed.

“Go to sleep,” he says eventually, mostly because the way you’re looking at him – eyes dopey with some kind of love-soaked feeling for him – makes him feel bad for not noticing your pain earlier, and letting you get hurt in the first place.  

The thought that he should have protected you plagues his thoughts until he notices that you’ve gone quiet, chest rising and falling with sleep.

He lets his arms grow comfortably numb around your frame.

Geralt doesn’t sleep at all that night. He could have lost you.  

With the fire beginning to die, Geralt struggles to get himself into a comfortable position on his back without jostling you from sleep. Your expression remains peaceful as he rests one arm behind his head and keeps you tucked, just so, against his side. 

When you wake with the early morning sun, that warms you from your toes and paints Geralt in shades of soft gold, you begin to realize that all the pain in the world couldn’t take this feeling away from you.

[nezhapreferences]

When They See You In A Dress

Enjoy!

-=-=-=-

Nezha

'Go to the festival and negotiate with the leader,' they said. 'It'll be fun,' they said.

Yeah right.

Nezha grumbled small curses to himself as people chattered nervously around him, sending him scared looks as they spoke. Normally, he would enjoy being the source of their fear, but you made him promise that he wouldn't do anything... Nezha-like.

Speaking of which, where were you anyway? You weren't with him on the carriage ride to the festival, you said something about being fashionably late, whatever that meant. He shrugged to himself, walking over to a stand of oranges. You would show up eventually, right?

A tap on his shoulder nearly made him choke on a slice of orange, and he whirled around to land a punch to the culprit. Good thing he decided to slow himself for a split second. Nezha froze when he got a good look at the stranger.

You were wearing a long cheongsam dress that faded to a golden yellow at the end to represent flames. Your hair was put up into a bun (if you have short/no hair, just leave as is) with a hair clip/band that had a ruby in it. The dress hugged your figure beautifully, showing every curve your body had, and the slit on the side of the dress did not calm poor Nezha when he spotted a hint of your bare leg.

It may have been a bit feminine for your taste, but you had to dress to impress, right?

You smirked at the dumbstruck Nezha before you, resting a hand on your hip. "What's wrong, Nezha? Cat got your tongue?" You laughed, leaning on the frozen male for support.

Nezha snapped out of his trance, a smirk stretching across his face. He rested his hands on your hips and pulled you close, causing a heavy blush to show up on your cheeks. "Not bad, (Y/n). Too bad the dress doesn't make your face any prettier." Nezha teased you playfully.

You rolled your eyes at his comment and pushed him back, "And to think, I picked this dress over the blue look-alike for you." You sighed to yourself as you walked away.

Nezha's eyes widened, "W-Wait! I think you're still really pretty even in normal clothing!" He yelled out, chasing after you.

Ao Bing

Today was the day Ao Bing would meet with the Great One. He had saved a village even bigger than Chengtang Pass, and the Great One himself requested an audience with him. You were so proud of your boyfriend/fiance for his strength and determination, for you knew that Ao Bing was doing all of this not only for the Kingdom but you and your future as well.

You wish you could go with him to support him, but only Ao Bing could leave the Kingdom because of the Spirit Pearl, which you sadly did not have.

You sighed with deep sorrow, catching Ao Bing's attention immediately. "What is wrong, Love?" He questioned in concern. You waved your hands wildly, realizing what you had just done. "Oh nononono! I'm fine!" You exclaimed, forcing a laugh out.

Ao Bing instantly knew from that small outburst that you wanted to go with him. A small smile decorated his face, "I was going to tell this anyway, but you look like you need to hear it now." He shuffled over to face you properly. "The Great One said that I can bring one person and one person only with me, no matter who they are. I want you to be by my side as I bring freedom to our people."

You gasped and tackled Ao Bing into a hug. "Thank you so much, Ao Bing! You are too good to me!" You cheered. An even bigger thought hit you, "Oh no! I need to find an outfit to wear!" You fretted, flying off of the amused male.

You raced off to your quarters in the kingdom, where the majority of the female dragons were. They had better taste in fashion, so that’s where you decided to live. You tried to pick an outfit with the help of the girls, though it was nerve-wracking.

"Ooh! The pink one! Pick the pink one!" One dragon chirped, her speech barely understandable from the chain in her mouth. "You're kidding me! That's far too girly for (Y/n), pick the green one!" Another dragon scoffed.

You rested a hand on your cheek in concentration, with all of these dresses you never wore and the endless suggestions, you thought you were never gonna get out of here!

"What about the blue one?"

You gasped, of course! Not only did it match with Ao Bing's formal robes, but it was definitely the prettiest when you actually noticed it! It wasn't frilly and looked very professional, maybe the Heavenly Court would be convinced that your kind did have a sense of style.

You quickly changed, careful not to tear the dress with your horns. When you finished getting dressed, you whipped your hair up into a bun (if you have short/no hair, just leave it as is), putting on a hair clip/band that looked like an icicle.

You did a quick check in the small mirror you had before the words of approval from the other dragons made you feel more confident. You nodded to yourself, "This is it, girls. Today's the day!" You smiled.

With one last goodbye, you made your way back to Ao Bing, who was waiting by the Kingdom's exit. His back was turned to you, so he had no idea you were there until you spoke up.

"I'm ready to go." You smiled, before remembering that Ao Bing had never seen you in such attire before. You suddenly went shy when he turned around and froze.

A heavy blush covered his face, how could such a beautiful being be any more breathtaking?! Ao Bing couldn't believe that you were his fiancee, he didn't think he would handle it on your wedding day, whenever that would arrive.

Ao Bing held out his arm, "You look beautiful." He was surprised that he didn't stutter when he was practically melting inside. You chuckled at his words, "You don't look so bad yourself, Handsome." You replied, hooking your arm around his.

-=-=-=-

I hope you guys enjoyed it!

I sure did!

[supermarvelgirl15]

Home- Chapter 5 (The Reckoning)

Summary: An old contact extends an invitation to the Mandalorian and Jesla to make peace with their enemies. Jesla learns something new about what the Jedi are capable of.

Pairing: Eventual Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) × OC!Jesla Gavdo

Word Count: 4,020

Warnings: None really

A/N: So the reason this took forever was because I wrote half of it, and my laptop crashed and didn't save, so I had to rewrite it. Anyway, I'm actually excited about writing the next chapter. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

××××××

    “My friend, if you are receiving this transmission that means you are alive. You might be surprised to hear this but I am alive too. I guess we can call it even. A lot has happened since we last saw each other. The man who hired you is still here, and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown. They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild. We consider him an enemy, but we cannot get close enough to take him out. If you would consider one last commission, I will very much make it worth your while. You have been successful so far in staving off their hunters. But they will not stop until they have their prize. So here is my proposition: Return to Nevarro, bring the Child as bait. I will arrange an exchange and provide loyal Guild members as protection. Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want. If you succeed, you keep the Child and I will have your name cleared with the Guild, for a man of honor should not be forced to live in exile. I await your arrival with optimism.”

   Jesla and Din both watched the older man's- whose name Jesla came to find out was Greef Karga- hologram message. Jesla looks back at the Child who was asleep, contemplating what their course of action should be. She knew that they couldn't run away forever.

   “I think we should go,” Mando speaks up, turning his chair to face her. 

   “We don't exactly have a choice,” Jesla scoffs, crossing her arms. “We're going to need to recruit some help,” she adds.

   Mando tilts his head, the incredulous look he's currently giving Jesla hidden by his helmet. “Wouldn't that be overkill? We're enough,” he shares, recalling the incidents with both Toro and Xi'an. 

   Jesla she shakes her head. “I can't use my abilities around the Empire. It'll just make our situation worse than what it already is,” she tells him as her fingers start to tap the side of her leg once again. Din realized that she would do that whenever she felt uneasy about something.

   Din sighs, turning back to face the control panel. He spares a look at the sleeping Child before setting a course that Jesla and him were familiar with, and the Razor Crest jumps into hyperspace.

                                            ∞∞∞

   The duo walk into a common house on Sorgan, seeing Cara Dune win a laser tethered boxing match with a male Zabrak. As the patrons hand Cara her winnings, she notices them approaching her. 

   “Looking for some work?”

   They all sit at a table, Cara and Jesla helping their selves to some spotchka as Mando starts explaining their situation to Dune. It seemed like a straightforward operation since Karga and his men were providing the plan and the firepower. Mando and the kid were the snares while Jesla and Cara would be their backup in case anything went south.

  Cara shook her head as she took a sip from her glass of spotchka. “I don't know. I've been advised to lay low. If anybody runs my chain code, I'll rot in a cell for the rest of my life,” she tells them.

   “I thought you were a veteran,” Mando queries with a tilt of his helmet.

   “I've been a lot things since, most of them carry a life sentence. If I so much as book passage on a ship registered to the New Republic I'm...” Cara starts before Mando interrupts her.

   “I have a ship. We can bring you there and back with a handsome reward. You can live free of worry,” Din bargains.

   “I'm already free of worry. And I'm not in the mood to play soldier anymore. Especially fighting some local warlord,” Cara shrugs, placing her now empty cup on the table.

   Jesla takes a swig of her drink before looking up at the dropper. “He's not a local warlord. He's Imperial,” she informs her.

   Dune makes direct eye contact with the ex-sharpshooter, a smirk working its way on her face. “I'm in.”

                                            ∞∞∞

   The Razor Crest flies through space as the group of outlaws prepare for their upcoming mission. Jesla was nervous about going up against the New Empire. As far as everyone knew, she had blew up with the second Death Star. If they found out that she was still alive... Well, she didn't want to think about those consequences. She just had to make sure that no one recognized her.

   Karga didn't even know that her and Cara would be accompanying the Mandalorian and the Child. Hopefully, that wouldn't be a problem. At first, Cara was confused as of why they were going to help someone that neither of them trusted in the first place, but once she realized that they didn't exactly have a choice, she understood.

   And after a little incident with the Child trying to fly the ship, they realized that they needed someone to watch him. Luckily, Mando knew someone that he trusted enough with such a task. 

   Jesla watched from the cockpit window as they landed near a moisture farm on Arvala-7, an Ugnaught trying to tame his blurrgs. Mando had told her that this was the planet where he had found the Child. 

   The Ugnaught gladly invites them all inside his residence, all of them having to bend down to get through the doorway. They all take a seat in the hut, Jesla promptly observing the inside of the house. In her subconscious, she noted her exits and anything that could be used as a weapon. She couldn't help it.

   “It hasn't grown much,” the Ugnaught comments as he looks over the Child. 

  “I think it might be a strand-cast,” Din suggests as he too looks over the kid.

   “I don't think it was engineered. I've worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly. This one on the other hand,” the Ugnaught points at Cara, “looks like she was farmed in the Cytocaves of Nora.”

   “This is Cara Dune. She was a shock-trooper,” Mando introduces her. Din makes eye contact with Jesla through his visor. “And this is Jesla Gavdo. She was an Imperial sharpshooter.”

   The Ugnaught looks Jesla up and down, as if accessing her. “I too served on the other side, I'm afraid. But I'm proud to say that I paid out my clan's debt and now I serve no one but myself,” he tells her. Jesla nods in understanding, not missing the look Cara gives them both out of the corner of her eye.

   Then an IG unit enters the building with a tray. Cara, Din, and Jesla all jump up and draw their blasters on the droid. “Would anyone care for some tea?” It asks them nonchalantly.

   “Please lower your blasters. He will not harm you,” the Ugnaught informs them.

   “That thing is programmed to kill the baby,” Mando says bitterly, not taking his blaster off the IG unit. 

   “Not anymore.”

   IG-11 continues to pour a glass of tea as the Ugnaught tells them all about how he found the IG unit left behind by the Mandalorian and how he reprogrammed it. He told them about the slow and difficult process that he endured to reconstruct the droid. Jesla carefully watched Mando during the Ugnaught's explanation. She knew he would always have his doubts about the droid. Who could blame him?

   They all simultaneously lower their blasters and sit back down around the table. Jesla gladly accepts the droid's offered cup of tea, taking a small sip of it. She didn't really know this Ugnaught long enough to trust him, but she did trust Mando. And his judgement was good enough for her.

                                              ∞∞∞

   Jesla, Cara, and Mando sit in the Razor Crest's cockpit on the way to Nevarro while the Ugnaught, Kuiil, works on a new crib for the Child down in the hangar. Jesla cleans her blaster, making sure it was in working order. She doubted that she would need her MK, but she was going to bring it anyway. Her blaster was her main focus at the moment though.

   “Do you know what station the Imperial officer is?” Cara asks Jesla, making her stop her movements on the blaster.

   “No, I didn't lay eyes on him before we ditched Nevarro. Mando took out his safe house when he snatched the kid. They've definitely reinforced their troops since then,” Jesla answers her. 

   IG-11 then appears in the entryway of the cockpit. “I have prepared second meal. Would you care to be served here or below?” He questions everyone.

   Before Jesla could respond, Mando beats her to it. “I'm not hungry,” he says shortly. Cara and Jesla share a look as the IG unit leaves without another word. “Under no circumstances does that thing leave the ship,” he states.

   “You got a real thing for droids, don't you,” Cara observes. Jesla sits quietly as she waits for Mando's response. She wondered if he would tell Cara why he hates them.

   “I got a real thing for that droid,” Mando replies, gesturing to where IG-11 had walked out. 

   Cara side-eyes Jesla as her brows knit together. “The Ugnaught said he rewired it,” she reminds him.

   “That droid was designed to kill things. I don't care how much wiring he replaced, it goes against its nature,” Din spits out angrily. Jesla's eyes soften as she continues to watch him, knowing exactly how he felt about the topic. 

   Shooting Jesla another look, Cara stands up. “Well, shouldn't be a long job anyway. You take out the head Imp, the rest will run like rats,” she says before she leaves the cockpit.

   A sigh escapes Mando's modulator as he turns to look at Jesla from over his shoulder. “You should go eat. We still have a while left until we get to Nevarro,” he tells her, pressing some buttons on the control panel.

   Jesla nods as she stands up, placing her weapons in her seat. “I'll bring you up something,” she says before she too descends down the stairs into the hangar. 

  Din turns to look after her, another sigh leaving his lips. He wasn't sure how he felt about his new friend. She was a lot like him in some ways, but there was still something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. 

                                             ∞∞∞

   After what felt like forever to Jesla, Mando finally lands the Razor Crest on the deserted surface of Nevarro. Everyone, except for IG-11, mount on the blurrgs and exit the ship, meeting Greef Karga and his three associates outside.

   “Sorry for the remote rendezvous, Mando. But things have gotten complicated since you were last here. It appears that introductions are in order. It seems we've both provided a security detail,” Greef Karga observes as his eyes scan over Jesla, Cara, and Kuiil. His eyes land on Jesla's MK-modified rifle strapped over her shoulder. “I guess you were the sniper that took out some of my men that night,” he puts together, his hands going to rest on his hips. Jesla just gives him a once over as she proceeds to not respond to him. 

   Karga realizes that he isn't going to get anything out of her and turns his attention back to Mando. “Now, where's the little one?” He questions as he looks around for it. 

   Mando moves the floating crib towards him. Greef opens it and his eyes widen as they land on the Child. “So... this little bogwing is what all the fuss was about,” he takes the Child out of the crib, “what a precious little creature. I can see why you didn't wanna harm a hair on its wrinkled little head.” He gives him a once over before placing him back in the crib. “Well, I'm glad this matter will be put to rest once and for all.”

   Din calls the crib back to him. “The sun drops fast on Nevarro. We can walk for a spell and camp out on the river bank, then make our way into town at first light,” Karga informs them before turning to lead the way. Din looks back at his new friends, following Karga with them right behind him.

   Once night fell, they all decided to set up a makeshift camp for the rest of the night. One of Karga's bounty hunters had put a piece of meat over the fire to cook. Jesla watches as Kuiil feeds the Child, the members of Karga's group eyeing each other suspiciously.

   “I guess the little bugger's a carnivore. Never seen anything like it. They were ready to pay a king's ransom for that thing. Must be for some kind of highfalutin menagerie,” Greef comments, looking at Mando.

   “Let's go over the plan again,” Mando says, stirring the conversation back to business. That was, as always, Mando for you.

   “We both enter the common house. We show the client the bait. We join him at the table, and you kill him,” Karga explains simply with a shrug.

   Jesla turns to face both Greef and Mando. “What about his reinforcements? Surely he's upped his security since last time,” she points out. She knew how these Imperial officers worked.

   A look of surprise briefly flashes across Karga's features. “No more than four. He travels with, at most, a fire team. Trust me, nothing could go wrong,” he tells her as he gets up and grabs the piece of meat that was over the fire. Jesla shook her head. That didn't sound right.

   Suddenly, a winged creature swoops in and grabs the meat out of Greef's hands. Everyone goes into a frenzy after that. They all start shooting at the dragon creatures, Mando closing the crib to protect the Child. Dragons start grabbing blurrgs, even one of Karga's bounty hunters. 

   Another dragon attacks the Mandalorian, both Jesla and Cara shooting it to get it off of him. He luckily fights it off by blasting it with fire. After that, the remaining dragons disappear. It's not until then when Jesla and the others notice that Greef was badly injured.

   Cara immediately springs into action, checking Karga's arm where the dragon ripped it open. “This is bad. The poison is spreading fast,” she informs them as she spills out the contents of her med-pack. She gives him a shot, but it doesn't seem to help.

   Jesla watches as the Child walks up to them as Cara frantically tries to help Karga. Everyone watches as the Child places his hand over his wound, Jesla tilting her head in curiosity. The Child's face relaxes as Greef's wound closes, immediately falling asleep right after. 

   Din looks up at Jesla, watching as emotion after emotion flashes through her eyes. He wasn't sure what was going through her head. It was obvious that she didn't know that the kid was capable of doing such a thing, let alone herself. 

                                             ∞∞∞

   The next morning, they all set out to continue their trek to the town. Jesla walks behind the group, the events of last night still fresh in her mind. She absentmindedly watches Mando and Cara converse with one another in front of her, but she didn't hear anything that they were saying. 

   Her eyes drift to the crib that was floating beside Mando, the Child hidden in it. She wondered how he did it, if she could do it. Did she have the ability to save so many people that were dear to her and she didn't even know? 

   The Mandalorian looks back over his shoulder, seeing Jesla lost in her thoughts. With a nod to Cara, he falls back to walk beside Jesla. She didn't even notice his presence until he spoke to her.

   “Did you... know that he could do... whatever that was?” He asks her, looking straight ahead. He himself was still surprised at the new information.

   “No,” she answers shortly. She didn't mean to be short with him, but her emotions were starting to get the best of her.  Jesla knew that she was overreacting, but she couldn't stop the guilt that was slowly taking over her.

   You could have saved your brothers. You could have saved your master.

   Din sees the internal conflict going on inside his partner. He wasn't sure what he could say to make her feel better. He didn't know how to talk about these things, wasn't trained to do it. His mind drifts back to the time of his life before the droids attacked. His mother would probably know what to say in this situation, so would his father.

   He opens his mouth to say something, but is stopped when Karga and his men halt ahead of them. “I guess this is it,” Karga announces to the group.

   Before either Din or Jesla could register what was going on, Greef suddenly spins around with his two blasters and shoots his two bounty hunters. He then immediately raises his blasters in capitulation as the others train their own blasters on him.

   “There's something you should know. The plan was to kill you and take the kid. But after what happened last night I couldn't go through with it. Go on, you can gun me down here and now, and it wouldn't violate the Code. But if you do, this child will never be safe,” Karga quickly explains to them. 

   “We'll take our chances,” Cara tells him, her finger on the trigger.

   Karga's eyes widen slightly as he tries to save himself. “The Imperial client is obsessed with obtaining this asset. You tried to run, but where did it get you? Listen. We both need the client to be eliminated. Let me take the Child to him, and then you three--”

  “No.”

   “Let's just kill him and get outta here.”

   “He's right.”

   Both Cara and Jesla shoot Mando an incredulous look. As he lowers his blaster, Jesla sighs before reluctantly following suit. What was going through his head? 

   “As long as the Imp lives he'll send hunters after the Child,” Mando points out. Jesla knew that he was right, but she also knew that this whole thing could be a trap. 

   “Bring me. Tell him you captured me. Get me close to him, and I'll kill him,” Mando tells Karga. Now he was being insane, especially when he handed Karga his blaster.

    However, Jesla knew how stubborn this beskar cladded man could be, so she knew that there was no way he was going to change his mind. “Well, I'm coming with you,” she states, Cara also jumping in.

   “No, no, no. That would make them suspicious,” Karga opposes as he shakes his head in disagreement. Both Jesla and Cara shrug, not caring less.

   “Tell ’em they caught me. I have a plan. Kuiil, ride back to the Razor Crest with the Child and seal yourself in. When you're inside, engage ground security protocols, and nothing on this planet will breach those doors,” Mando orders, turning to face Kuiil.

   Kuiil nods as he walks up to him. “Here's a comlink. I will keep the Child safe,” he turns to Cara, “don't forget to cover your stripes,” he reminds her. He then takes the Child out of the crib and hops on the remaining blurrg, heading in the direction of the Razor Crest.

   Mando hands Karga his handcuffs, Karga placing them on him as Cara covers her tattoo with a piece of fabric. Jesla made sure to take off her hood and mask, anything to hide her real identity from the Empire. They didn't know her face, only her name.

   “Let's go.”

                                          ∞∞∞

   The group walk up to the entrance of town, greeted by Stormtroopers standing guard. Jesla tenses up once she sees them, subconsciously trying to hide as she stands on the other side of the Mandalorian. 

   Greef produces his ID card for the Stormtrooper to scan his chain code and they continue on their way. More Stormtroopers march pass them and Cara comments on how Karga said there was only supposed to be four. 

   “Four guarding the client. Many more here in town. Things got really heated once Mando crashed the safe house.”

   Once they finally get to the common house, the door opens to reveal the Imperial officer and four Stormtroopers. Jesla didn't recognize the officer, but then again, she didn't really pay attention to them.

   “Look what I brought you. As promised,” Karga greets the officer, gesturing to Mando. Cara and Jesla share a look before looking back at the client.

   The client approaches them, caressing Mando's beskar armor. “What exquisite craftmanship. It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans. Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?” He asks, looking back at Greef. 

   Karga nods and shoves Mando to sit in the booth, Cara and Jesla standing beside the table. The officer also sits as more Stormtroopers enter the building. “It is a shame that your people suffered so. Just as in this situation, it was all avoidable. Why did Mandalore resist our expansion? The Empire improves every system it touches. Judge by any metric. Safety. Prosperity. Trade. Opportunity. Peace. Compare Imperial rule to what is happening now. Look outside. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but death and chaos,” he rambles before adding, “I would like to see the baby.”

   “Uh...it is asleep,” Karga fibs, glancing over to the pod. 

   “We all will be quiet. Open the pram,” the client orders as he reaches for the pod. Luckily, a Stormtrooper comes over and whispers something to him, making him halt his movements. “Don't think me to be rude. I must take this call,” he apologizes before walking away.

   Mando takes the opportunity to loosen his cuffs under the table. “Gimme the blaster,” he whispers to Karga. Greef obliges as he sneakily hands it to him, making note of the extra Stormtroopers.

   “This is bad. You said four,” Jesla whisper yells, her eyes scanning over the multiple Stormtroopers. However, she knew they could most likely take them. It would just cause a big scene.

   “Well...there are more. What can I tell you?” Greef replies gruffly, both Jesla and Cara rolling their eyes.

   All of a sudden, the client goes down as blaster shots are fired through the window, peppering inside the common house and killing everyone inside, except for the outlaws. Once the shooting stops, they all move out of cover to both sides of the window. An Imperial firing squad sits outside, another transport of Stormtroopers arriving. 

   Cara turns to Karga with a glare. “Four Stormtroopers?”   

   Din takes out his comlink, bringing it close to where his mouth would be. “Kuiil, are you back to the ship yet? Are you there? Do you copy?” He questions frantically.

   “Yes!”

   “Are you back to the ship yet?”

   “Not yet.”

   “Get back to the ship and bail! Get the kid out of here. We're pinned down!”

   Jesla tenses up when her eyes land on a TIE fighter landing outside. Her fingers itch towards her lightsaber hidden beneath her cloak as a man exits the TIE fighter to stand in front of the common house. She knew if she used it, she would be on the New Empire's radar. Was she ready for that?

   “You have something I want,” the man states aloud to them. Jesla looks him up and down, not recognizing him. Who was this guy?

   “You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of. But you do not,” the man continues. Was he talking about the Child? 

   Looking to Mando, Jesla sees him trying to get through to Kuiil. “Kuiil, are you back to the ship yet? They're on to us. Kuiil, come in!”

   “In a few moments, it will be mine. It means more to me than you will ever know.”

   “Kuiil... Are you there?! Come in, Kuiil! Kuiil, come in! Kuiil! Are you there?! Do you copy?! Kuiil! Kuiil!”

   When Kuiil doesn't answer, Mando looks over to Jesla and she can feel his desperation. This was not going well.

××××××

@living-that-best-life

Tags are open!

[jae-canikeepyou]

| right here & now | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: alternate universe + youtuber!yn

a/n: thank you for the request and i really loved writing this so much even if the idea of having yuno as my bf will never happen lol ;-; anyway, i hope you enjoy reading my lovelies! 💕~j.

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the curtains swayed with the wind spells that entered your room, marking a new morning. this morning however, was a very special one that you planned this for months hoping it would pull off like you wanted it to. you stretched in your bed, kicking off the blankets that trapped the heat around your body. the clock said 6 a.m. and you had more than enough time to prepare for the flight scheduled at noon.

pressing the button to record, you began your vlog by doing a gwrm routine and choosing your ootd, in which you were always always indecisive for because sometimes you would find yourself facetiming him and he’d pick the right one for you. perks of having a fashionable boyfriend, yes?

“guys..” you let one a little whine as you pat lightly on your face with a concealer. “i’m really nervous because even though i texted yuno that i’ll be having a meeting for a collab with another channel, i can’t imagine how he’d feel if i didn’t reply him for the next hours. or maybe if i don’t reply him at all.”

of course being the busy people you both were, even a message from each other was a big deal because hello, a long distance relationship was a struggling kind and some instances, fall-outs were common. although you did understand the need of physical comfort from a loved one, it was a matter of trust and patience on a daily basis that you would eventually end up in his arms when that time came.

and that time was today.

how you met nct 127’s jaehyun was definitely unexpected. you were one of the few singer-songwriter youtubers invited to a performance at an event along with other renowned singers. the group came as a special guest, giving fans and fellow artists greetings and basically hyped up the entire hall with their music as if it was their concert alone. you weren’t that interested at first since the event was your very first invitation, so you were more conscious on yourself than having the time to appreciate others, but you were a fan of nct 127’s music.

jaehyun too was lowkey, a fan of your channel. he didn’t want to show how giddy he felt when you stood on that stage; a guitar in hand and just a microphone by your lips. he was aware of the hand-held cameras the staff pointed him with, and tried to keep a straight face. however, when you reached the peak of your unplugged version of your song, the feels hit him differently. you sounded soulful, gentle, that it grew the urge for him to want to do a collab with you.

so when the event finished and you were told to meet other artists at their respective tent / booths, he ran into you— he couldn’t hide his smile anymore. you shook hands with him, realizing that he didn’t took his eyes off of you. “you were amazing out there.” you shyly complimented him, his shimmering suit shone like his eyes did.

“i’d say the same with you y/n.” he smiled and liked the way how your name rolled on his tongue. “i hope we can do a collab some day.”

“that’d be nice.”

jaehyun itched to have contact with you since then; that was three years ago. the last time he saw you in person was when you went to seoul weeks after for an interview. his friends could see the pink dusting his cheeks when you posted a new song, cover or vlog. sometimes he’d forget there was practice because he was too immersed into you. it was up until a couple of months after the event had he built up the courage to direct message you in instragram, finally having to connect with you.

then the rest was history and soon reaching the third year of your relationship. both of your feelings were mutual and came to a decision that you both were a couple. for jaehyun the most, it was quite difficult to dodge the questions at talk shows/interviews relating to love life when all he had in his heart was you and you only. on the other hand, you had to ignore questions on insta live whether you were seeing anyone; because they noticed a different aura within you on every video you upload.

“if you’re wondering how i’m planning to ‘ignore’ yuno.. well, i chose to not use my phone for the next 14 hours. i have to pretend that i’m ‘busy’ and ‘occupied’ with work.” you now entered the lift to exit your apartment and headed to the taxi waiting for you. “hopefully it’ll convince him why i couldn’t use my phone.”

you continued to film your surrounding for aesthetics, choosing the suitable background music. so far in the day, you talked about how hard long distance was. not seeing jaehyun personally for three years was a challenge. sometimes when you knew that he’d visit the city for a tour, you’d be filled with work and filming and bummed out because you wouldn’t be able to see him.

johnny messaged you just before your breakfast that they just finished rehearsal and were now taking a break. you sighed a lot more today as you knew he’d be sending you a message any second.

or so you thought.

♡  yuno ♡  would like to facetime you.

you panicked because right now, you were at the airport. however, luckily enough, you were at a fastfood chain located a little far off from the departure hall, so he wouldn’t notice that you were at the airport and just pigging out at some random restaurant. you placed the phone just beside your laptop, pretending to ‘edit’ videos when you were actually chatting away with johnny for the plans when you reach seoul. the camera was at the other side of your belongings, seated at a blind spot where only you could be seen in his perspective.

“hi babe.” he greeted you with a flying kiss as his sweat rolled down his temples. “oh? you’re outside this early?” he moved sideway as if he could see anything behind you.

“i’m having breakfast.” you showed a subway sandwich and an orange juice. “yeah well, i’m preparing for a meeting later.”

gosh i hate lying to him.

he moistened his lips, brushing his hair back with a headband. “what meeting?” he raised a brow, making you chuckle that he obviously didn’t see your message. 

you rolled your eyes, turning the phone to the laptop screen and showed him the chat from the night before. “i told you i have a collab with another channel, didn’t i? anyway, i have to finish up and head for the meeting. call you later?”

“ah..” he whined. “we didn’t even talk for a minute, but okay. i’ll wash up and call you again. take care babe! i love you so much.”

“i love you too.” you said before ending the call. clenching your chest, you sighed deeply as you faced the camera that recorded the whole conversation. “this is hard. i never expected him to call me. i’ll make sure i won’t use my phone starting from now.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you yawned quite loudly as you watched the airplane icon reach the borderline of south korea at the screen before you. now that you thought about it, you haven’t recorded anything since the departure and it was a perfect timing because the sun was just rising by your side of the window.

“okay, hello everyone. i’ve been flying for hours that i lost count. but, i’m reaching seoul in about thirty minutes, so i’ll make this quick.” zooming into the ombré sky of blue, pink and orange combined, you hummed a tune that jaehyun used to sing to you to sleep. “see that beautiful colors. my boyfriend sees this morning every day and i’m seeing him really soon.”

once you were out of the aircraft and walking along the hall the leads to the exit, your heart stopped in realization that not only you were seeing jaehyun as a fan after three full years, but actually seeing him officially as his girlfriend. and this thought made your eyes well because you couldn’t believe it was really happening. mixtures of excitement and nervousness took over your body that perhaps other passengers recognised you, and you waved at them in response that you were in seoul for collaboration.

the boys’ manager dressed- rather disguised himself as your guide and picked you up at the airport. he waved at you to catch your attention. when you did so, johnny dialled to call you as he was seated at the car parked outside. “y/n!” he greeted. “turn around! i’m in the car!”

you opened the door and he hugged you quick. his camera was pointed directly at you, obviously recording the moment for jaehyun to watch later. “hi johnny! it’s been so long!”

“too long! we missed a lot of chances to see other whenever the group visits your city. sometimes jae would tear up- or cry but don’t tell him i told you that.” he giggled and helped you sit comfortably in the car. “are you vlogging right now?”

“aw that’s sweet of him.” you pout. “yes i’ve been vlogging since i left my apartment. say hello to the fam.”

“hey what’s up it’s your boy johnny.” he waved and curled his fingers at the cringiness of himself.

johnny felt his phone vibrating. it was a call from mark who updates him of jaehyun’s movements while he was out of the studio. the call was on speaker so you would be able to hear the conversation. “hyung. should i wake him up now?”

you giggled at how that was exactly jaehyun’s habits. “i think you should, mark.” your voice alerting him of your presence.

the younger boy held his reactions in a whisper, afraid that he might awake your boyfriend. “oh my g- hi y/n! i love your acoustic cover of ‘love me now’. jaehyun hyung teared up last night after watching it.”

“really? he teared up again?” your heard sank to the ground knowing how he really felt behind the cameras separating the both of you. your arms weakened at the point but continued to vlog.

“yeah. hold up i’m just gonna-” mark paused and all you heard was the fall of headphones and low groans. “hyung, johnny said he’ll get us food. what do you want?”

a groggy voice contemplated the events of today before yelping in shock that he has a recording to finish. “agh crap what time is it?” jaehyun asked, even if you wanted to speak, johnny refrained you from doing so. you shouldn’t blow your cover now.

“it’s quarter past two.” mark said and helped the dude up on his toes. “we’re getting fried chicken.”

“tsk i was about to call y/n after i washed up.” jaehyun rubbed his eyes. “oh yeah johnny, better come here quick. taeyong hyung said we still have some parts to record.”

you held in your laughs as you covered your lips, sharing identical expressions with johnny. he breathed out before speaking. “uh yeah sure, but i did my part of the cover already. so it’s just you left. see you soon.”

the car was pulled over the studio the boys have been gathered at. some were practicing their choreography while others were resting up. you walked slower than usual and johnny noticed this gestures of yours. who wouldn’t be nervous at a situation like this? it has been three years, so he could imagine the tension between you and yourself only.

mark told everyone to take caution because jaehyun has a sharp eye, that he could read the atmosphere of anything was fishy. even the slight percent of that feeling he could crack an egg open, and the plan would fail. they didn’t want that to happen, this was a special moment for him and you came all the way to surprise him. the effort alone was already precious.

you vlogged again, your chest began its countdown whilst you hid behind a drumset at the recording booth. gladly though, your frame was petite compared to the instrument so you wouldn’t be seen immediately at first glance. cameras were set up and hidden at corners where jaehyun couldn’t see them. all there was was a foldable compact device attached to the mic stand.

the plan was to let jaehyun sing his part of high school musical cover of ‘right here, right now’, due to that one time he playfully joked about being your troy bolton. so you kept that request in mind and chose to do the recording on the day you came to seoul. you pre-recorded your part last week, and you would wait for him to finish his part.

“this is it guys. my hand is shaking, my heart feels like its about to come out of me. i’m already tearing up because i’m going see yuno in less than five min-”

the door swung open causing you to jolt, making one drumstick slide to its abyss, but you managed to catch before it fell. flutters of papers were then placed on the black metal stand, and a low baritone clearing throat for a vocal exercise sure revealed it was yuno. just the impact of careless actions alone, you could tell the person in the studio was indeed your boyfriend.

you exchanged looks from the camera and to jaehyun, repeating this several times because it was hard to catch the timing.

“which part do i have to re-do?” jaehyun’s voice sent shivers down your spine and you fanned yourself keep your calm. “hm? this is a new song cover? okay, but this is a duet though.” he said, checking the titles for the second time. the guys had to bend down slightly from where jaehyun was standing as he was very clueless. “ah so it’s the reprise version? it’s pretty short.” he cleared his throat again.

“can you imagine what would happen, if we could have any dream?..” gosh how honey like his voice was. “i’d wish this moment, was ours to own it and that it would never leave..”

“then i would thank that star, that made our wish come true.”

jaehyun’s eyes grew as your voice was heard through the headphones. he tried to keep his cool, even though his expression changed a little. “‘cause he knows that where you are, is where i should be too.”

in a few seconds the chorus was about to be sung, you left your camera at the bass drum when you pulled him for a back hug, after when he sang.

“right here. right now?..” jaehyun lost tune at the latter word, turning to see the person who was hugging him; soon revealing your beaming smile. he looked back at his friends who were jumping and cheering, he squinted at their phones and cameras that were up to capture the moment.

he removed his headphones as reality punched him in the gut, arms quickly wrapping you for a longing embrace. “y/n..” he said, carrying you slightly to enjoy the surprise. the boys came into the recording studio, your ears ringing at their volumes of woohoo’s and yeah’s.

he finally saw you in the flesh, the real deal. not behind low quality screens or hours of long phone calls. you were with him now, and that was all that mattered to him.

“surprise?” you tiptoed to kiss his cheek but he nuzzled himself at the crook of your neck to hide his tears. they were dampening your clothes a little. “aw babe.”

“is he crying?” johnny asked with a teasing voice and when he didn’t get any response, he turned to the camera. “ladies and gents, and johfam, our boy jae is finally crying in front of cameras.”

“shut up.” jaehyun butt back, his nose pink and his eyelashes were slight wet. “you’re here.” he hugged you again like how a koala would do.

you held his hand and intertwined them with yours. “yeah, i’m here- oh wow you’re shaking.”

jaehyun’s chin rested on top of your head, his dimples deepening as he gave the same smile whenever he’d facetime you. “i thought you had a meeting with another channel?” he asked, swaying you from side to side as you all came out of the recording booth.

lunch then was placed on the table, you sat amongst them, they dug in like they haven’t eaten good food. “i did. the channel’s called johnny’s communication center.”

the said boy gave you a wink and jaehyun caressed his neck in bewilderment. “hyung, you were part of this?”

“maybe, maybe not.” he popped a kimbap into his mouth, savouring the flavours. “i picked her up at the airport and the boys knew it all along.” he said, later noticing jaehyun’s attention was full onto you. he nudged the others to give you both space and left with their fair share of the food.

jaehyun rubbed circles at your back, he loved keeping you close. the smile never left his face and his ears went to a deeper red. “you planned all this for me?”

“because i missed you a lot more than you think.” you poked his dimples that he smiled widely than before.

“i missed you too.” he stared into you. “when are you leaving though?”

a chuckle of faux disbelief escaped your lips. “yuno, i just got here and you’re asking me when i’ll leave?”

he brought your hand up for a small kiss. “i’m asking because i don’t want you to, y/n. just stay with me.” his voice practically begging you, and you softened your gaze at him, wanting the same as well.

“i don’t know when i’ll see you next..” he trailed off as you wait for his response. “..i meant that in person.”

you inclined yourself to him and hugged him tighter. “let’s think of that later. we can make arrangements. all that matters is i’m here right now.” you giggled with pressed lips.

jaehyun stared down at you, leaning in for your first kiss. “gosh i love you so much.”

[geeky-introvert]

Princess’ Plaything II . Hvitserk X OC

Summary: After her father passes away Taya is made queen with Hvitserk as her consort at her side. When his brothers come for him, will the princess give him up so easily or go to war….Second and final part.

Word count: 2537

Warning: None

Tag list: @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @rekdreams247 @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising @happydaysandersen @therealcalicali @naaladareia @inforapound @captstefanbrandt @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish @igetcarriedawaywithyou @laketaj24 @darlingp @tephi101 @youbloodymadgenius @lordsexmachine​ @wonderlandofsu @sparklemichele @hecohansen31 @readsalot73 @quiche-pocket 

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

Taya was now queen after her father fell ill and passed away in his sleep. She thought it was a good thing, because her father wasn’t a good ruler to his people and she wanted to be the most loved, respected but also powerful queen in all of England. With time and patients she’ll make sure that’ll happen for herself and her kingdom.

Word given to her by her soldiers said that Heathens were headed towards her kingdom with a army, the mention of Ragnar’s sons perked her interest and didn’t show a lot of worry about it. Instead of using force like other rulers have, she peacefully invited the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok into her kingdom so they could speak to one another and find out what they were doing there, but she already had a pretty good guess what it was about.

Sitting on her throne the large doors opened to reveal four figures, four sons, the well known from their people, legends, pretty much everything meaningful she thought to herself. One of them was carried though and she right away knew this was Ivar the Boneless, who she was most curious about and right away waved over one of the servants to bring them to a table with chairs. They were guests, she’ll treat them as such.

“Welcome to my kingdom, sons of Ragnar.” She announces giving a gentle smile at them. “Please, you’ve had a long journey, help yourself to some food and the finest wine.”

They were watchful, careful, unsure about this queen and Taya expected that.

“What brings the famous sons of Ragnar Lothbrok to my kingdom?” She asked already knowing very well but played along in her role.

“We demand the release of our brother.” Bjorn bluntly demanded from her.

Ubbe sighed softly while leaning forward against the table. “Forgive my brother. You’re right, it’s been a long journey and we’re tired. We’ve come all this way for our brother and we wish to know of his well being, also for him to return home with us, Queen Taya.”

“I see.” She hummed softly. “Is there anything you have to offer for his release?”

“A chest of gold.” His answer honestly took her a little by surprise. So much gold for one person sounded crazy, but it just showed her how much their brother meant to them. “But first we would like to see him, to make sure he hasn’t been harmed.”

Taya then nodded to a guard who bowed to her and left them.

“What do you plan to do later?” She asked, curious about their plans.

“We’ll leave, head home.” Ubbe announced which honestly surprised her a little.

“You bring a whole army just for your brother?”

“Of course, he would do the same for any of us.” Taya wasn’t so sure about that. If there was one thing she’s learned about him was that he was a little greedy. Perhaps this will make him see that his brothers love him, that they were willing to go to war for him.

“Ubbe!” Hearing Hvitserk all the attention was brought towards the door. The brothers expected to see their brother in chains, starved, beaten, but he wasn’t. In fact he was dressed in the finestest clothes, fed well and clean like never before, walking freely.

“Hvitserk, brother.” Ubbe stood up and hugged him tightly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I”m well. How about you?”

“Relieved that you’re alright, it’s been months.”

“Really?” Of course Hvitserk lost track of time. “Well, you’re here now, and I’m happy to see my brothers again.” More hugs were exchanged between the brothers but they were still confused with how he was being treated here.

“We thought he was your prisoner.” Ivar bluntly says.

“He was my father's prisoner but I set him free. After my father passed away last month and I took the throne. Hvitserk isn’t my prisoner, but my consort.” Taya answered as Hvitserk came sitting beside her around the table as she combed her fingers over his hair.

“Consort?” Ivar couldn’t help but laugh. “So you’re the queens whore, brother?”

Taya couldn’t help but smirk softly. “That’s a harsh way to say it. Hvitserk is free to do as he pleases around my home, he has been good company for me. I’ll make sure your army is given some food and they may rest outside the walls until your departure. You are all guests here and are welcome to stay for as long as you need.”

“We won’t stay too long. We’ll be leaving soon, with Hvitserk of course.”

Taya felt Hvitserk shift in his spot and she knew why. As much as he wanted to go home he didn’t want to leave her. She’ll leave this decision to him though, whatever he decides she’ll accept.

That night Taya decided to treat herself with a bath to herself while Hvitserk spent time with his brothers after being away from each other for months.

“Are you really considering staying? We’ve come all this way for you with an army behind us to rescue you from prison.” Bjorn argued, feeling Hvitserk was being selfish, which he was.

“And I’m proud of that, really I am. But as you can see I’m fine and look around yourself, I have it all here. The best food, wine, silks and the sex is great. Taya is blessed by the gods, she’s beautiful, smart, powerful and she treats her people and outsiders fairly as you’ve already seen.”

“We thought you were dead.” Ubbe suddenly said. “I mourned you, then we got word that you were taken prisoner here. I had hope again, and now I’m hearing you don’t really want to leave.”

“Don’t try to guilt trip me.” Hvitserk sighed. “I want to come home, I do, I just want to speak to Taya first.” It wasn’t an easy choice and he wanted to hear her thoughts as well.

Meanwhile Taya had just finished her bath and slipped on a thin nightdress just as Hvitserk came in. She smiled softly as she approached and wrapped her arms around his neck before kissing him tenderly. She would be lying if she said she didn’t love him, there was a special spot in her heart he’ll always have, and she knew what he wanted.

“Don’t let me hold you back.” She whispered, caressing his cheek. “You should go home with your brothers. They came all this way for you, with an army. They care for you.”

“I know.” Hvitserk sighed. “I do want to go home, I just wish I could take you with me.”

“As much as I would love to go with you I have a kingdom to rule and people to take care of.” She says through a weak smile. “But I have an idea. Before you leave we could marry, that way we’ll be husband and wife, and you’ll be king here. You can come and go as you please, but this kingdom will always be your home.”

Hvitserk stared at her, taken back by her words. “Marriage? I mean...is that what you want?”

“Only if you want that. I understand though if you don’t, marry another, someone who perhaps is a shield maiden. I’m just giving you the option if you want it. Besides, it’ll stop the advisors from nagging in my ear to take a husband, they can’t keep doing that if I’m already married.”

Hvitserk stared at her for a long moment before smiling. “I would be king? You would be my wife?”

“Yes.” Taya giggled lightly. “So, what do you say? Shall we marry in a few days?”

He answered by kissing her passionately and embracing her against his chest.

“I say yes.” His answer made her beam brightly even more.

“Then it’s settled, we’ll marry and then you may depart with your brothers. We’ll see each other again, I know you’ll come back eventually. I’ll wait for you, darling.”

Only within a few days they married even though Taya’s advisors were against it but she paid no mind to them. This was what they wanted and she was happy about it. Of course they’ll miss each other but she knew one day he’ll come back.

At the docks they were ready to depart but Taya seemed to have trouble letting Hvitserk go as she hugged and kissed him for a while. It was harder than she thought it would be.

“I’ll miss you everyday.” She says nuzzling her nose against his.

“As I’ll miss you. I’ll come back, I promise.” Hvitserk kissed her once more before they both were able to finally let each other go. She watched as he joined his brothers on the boat and watched from the docks as they sailed away.

The gold given was shared among her people and this made her happy that her people didn’t have to be always poor and starving, she’ll do everything she can for them.

He promised to come back, and she’ll wait for his return.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It had been about three years since she last saw Hvitserk. Everyday she missed him and wondered what the man had been up too, and when he might return. However she has heard what has been happening.

Ragnar was dead, killed by king Aelle. She had gotten a message asking for her support and armies against the heathens but she refused as she wouldn't be part of that war.

Then Aelle was killed, avenged by Ragnar’s sons and she was glad of this. But it didn’t stop there as many more wars broke out across England. It was never ending. There was a small part of her that wondered if Hvitserk might come to see her during this time perhaps but he never did. She didn’t judge. Whatever was going on he was too focused.

Another year passed and things had calmed down a little, only a little and she hadn’t heard much about the sons of Ragnar raiding through England anymore. She didn’t know Hvitserk's fate and decided to send a messenger to Kattegat to find out what was going on. Even just a word from him will bring some comfort, that was all.

However things were much worse than she realised. The messenger returned with few people that wasn’t all, Hvitserk was with him. But it wasn’t a joyful moment, because he wasn’t in good shape.

Running to her gates she saw Hvitserk being taken in on a cart and she saw just how bad it was. The poor thing looked broken. He wasn’t awake though and she ordered him to have him cleaned, clothes and brought into her chambers with the healers to help him.

Sitting at the table with those who came from Kattegat they told her everything that happened. The brothers broke apart and went to war against each other. Many deaths happened. Hvitserk made many choices but none of them worked out for him before he then went into a deep hole, life being consumed by mead and mushrooms. He than killed Lagertha and was to be burned alive for his murder much to her horror.

The messenger saved his life. He swore that she would go to war against them if they were to burn his king which she was grateful for. Not wanting another war Bjorn banished Hvitserk and her messenger managed to bring him back with little help.

She promised him much gold for him and his family, a good life for saving Hvitserk and allowed him to eat, bathe and be with his family while she went to see her husband.

In the room once he was cleaned up and rested in bed Taya dismissed the healers and sat down on the bed beside Hvitserk, taking his hand and caressing his cheek.

He shifted and opened his eyes looking at her confused.

“Taya? Am I dead?”

“No, my love. You’re back again.” She answered warmy. “You’re safe.”

He was quiet as he looked around before looking like he was about to cry. “I’m so sorry, I never should’ve left.” His words were broken as he looked like he was about to break down.

“Love, don’t think of the past. What’s done is done, but you’re here now, you’re home.”

“I left you for way too long.” He continued to shake his head, feeling guilty about everything. “Everyday I wanted to come back, but...I felt like I would be abandoning my brothers, my home, my world, the gods. I-I was just a dog….that’s all I ever was.”

“No, you’re not a dog. You’re a king.” She assured him. “Leave everything in the past, this is your home now, these are your people, here you have power, always.”

Hvitserk managed to shift himself closer to her and held her hand, letting out a half broken sob as she climbed in to hold him against her body. “You’re home now, my love.”

“I promise to never leave you again.” He whispered against her neck. “I swear it.”

“Rest, darling. You need it.” She stayed with him for as long as possible, savouring every moment of it with him and thanking whatever god was listening for bringing him back to her.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

After a few days Hvitserk looked more himself again and was clean from those mushrooms and mead. It wasn’t easy but she helped him and she was happy to have him looking well again. Taking him towards the throne she then sat down, waiting for him to join beside her.

“You’re king, take your throne, my lord.” She says through a smile.

He hesitated for a moment, unsure if the throne itself might bit him before finally taking the seat and letting out a soft breath, savouring the feeling and power of being king.

“We should have children.” He suddenly says looking at her. “Many children, running around the halls. I want many of them, we’ve waited too long.”

Taya smiled before nodding to the guard who went away for a moment and came back with a small child walking beside him. “It’s already started, my love.”

Hvitserk looked at the small boy who looked very much like himself. Looking at Taya she nodded at him, caressing the top of his hand. “This is our son, Ragnar.”

Stepping off from the throne Hvitserk came down the steps and closer towards the child who looked up at him curiously. He then knelt down and touched the boys face, smiling softly before bringing him closer for a hug. Taya teared up a little as she watched her son and husband embrace one another.

“I have a son….My son, my Ragnar.” Hvitserk whispered softly.

“Hello father. I missed you.” Ragnar whispered back.

Over the years Taya had told him everything about his father and how one day he was to return. Now, he was staying for good. There was nothing left for him with his family of Kattegat, this was his home now, where he belonged.

“Tell me everything.” Hvitserk says to Ragnar, sitting back on his throne with him in his lap. “I want to know everything about you, my son.”

Yes, he was where he belonged, always and forever.

[varian-and-the-seven-skies]

Cor Meum | Chapter Two: Pieces Set, Start

Synopsis: In a world of floating cities and steamships, Captain Rapunzel runs the fastest ship in all the skies. But this rowdy crew is not without its secrets—or its treasures— and Hugo, newly-hired, is ready to discover them all. Now if only Varian, the whip-smart lead engineer, would get out of his way.

A TTS & 7k AU of epic proportions, featuring cool fight scenes, steampunk machinery, and an inevitable romance. Written by @littlemisslol-fic and @izaswritings.

Notes: Thanks so much for all your guys’ support for this new fic! Your comments were a joy to read, and we’re so excited that you guys are excited! We have a whole lot in store for y’all— we hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: There is mild reference to implied child abuse—nothing explicit or graphic, but please be wary! If there’s anything in this chapter you think we missed, let us know and we’ll add the warning up here.

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AO3 Link is here!

Fic Playlist can be found here!

Chapter One can be found here!

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Chapter Two: Pieces Set, Start

. . .

Standing in the burning midday sun, hand half-shading his eyes, Hugo stares up into the shadow of the Aphelion and thinks: This is too easy.

He almost feels bad about it, honestly. Like stealing candy from a kid—not that it’s going to stop Hugo from robbing them blind, blah blah blah should have held onto it better—but still. The fact remains that this will be painfully easy. It’s been maybe two hours since he set foot in Corona, and he’s already been hired and secured a place on the ship. Fastest infiltration he’s ever done.

“She’s perfect,” he says, with a smile that maybe shows a bit too much teeth. Oh, well. Hugo’s probably fine. What does this kid—Var-something, Varitas, Varian?—know of threats and dangers anyway? The cotton-weave shirt, the brass cuff bracers, the worn work-pants and even the shine of his boots; given all that plus the oil and grease streaking his face, and the way he barely even notices, Hugo is almost positive that this kid has never even stepped three feet outside of a workroom.

Hugo doesn’t have a good opinion of this kid’s instincts, either. After all, it’s taken everything Hugo has not to laugh in his face from the moment he got hired, pint-size here being his new ‘boss’ or no, and the other teen hasn’t even noticed.

“So?” Hugo says. “Do I get the grand tour?”

Varian (Hugo is, like, 85% sure it’s Varian) doesn’t react. He seems distracted, staring hard at the ground with a furrow to his brow. He jumps at the sound of Hugo’s voice, and shakes his head hard as if to chase away his own thoughts. At his feet, that creepy little rodent automaton chases circles around them. “What? Oh. Um, yeah. If you want.” He gestures, listless. “It’s, uh… just up the ramp.”

Hugo eyes him, just a bit—where’d the fire go? The sass? The really annoying attitude?—but he doesn’t actually care, in hindsight, so he shrugs and dismisses it, heading up for the ship ramp. The closer he gets, the more impressive the ship looks: Hugo hadn’t been lying, at least, when he’d called her perfect. She’s a mish-mash of colorful cloth-weave and metalwork, and even from here Hugo can tell she’s a labor of love. The Aphelion is… beautiful isn’t a strong enough word for what she is. Stunning, maybe. Ethereal is closer. He can’t even imagine what the work inside looks like. What sort of pipe system do they use? What model are the engines?

By the Maker, Hugo is almost excited.

He just barely keeps from bouncing on his feet—he’s not a child, he knows how to control himself—and when he reaches the deck, he takes a moment to step out and turn around, taking it all in. It's huge, wide open and two-tiered, with heavy metal chains and cables of thick braided wire trailing up to the sails and envelope high above. The railing is a mix of shiny brass and dark, reddish wood; the whole deck is varnished with a nice coat of gloss that keeps the wooden planks waterproofed even through the heaviest of storms. Hugo slams his foot down, just to be sure, and—yep. That heavy thunk tells him all he needs to know. No leaky roofs on this ship, no sir.

Gods above, she’s fucking gorgeous. Hugo might be a little bit starstruck.

“Where to first?” he calls back, still staring up at the sails. Is that embroidery? Holy shit, it totally is. This ship is ridiculous, and Hugo hasn’t even seen the inside yet. “Engines? Captain’s quarters?” A thought strikes him. He keeps his voice casual. “Cargo hold?”

He can hear Varian step up behind him, still quiet. “Well,” the other says, a little dryly. He holds out one arm, and that raccoon automaton of his runs one last time around his feet and then jumps up on his shoulder. Varian rubs at its ears. “I have to find Yong, and you’re stuck with me, so… probably going to start with the library and work our way from there.”

Hugo clicks his tongue, disappointed, but knows better than to argue. He’ll see it all eventually, he knows, and has to bite back another mean smile at the thought. When Varian makes his way for a massive door of intricate iron,Hugo follows him.

“Yong,” he echoes to himself. “Assistant to engine-man, right?”

“Xavier.” Varian looks up at him, half-hidden in the shadows of the sails, his eyes flashing bright and burning. “Yong is— fire prone, so it works out pretty well for him. You’ll see.” He scowls. “And learn people’s names, would you?”

“Hm.” Hugo makes a show of thinking about it. Leans back on his heels, resting his chin in his hands, humming—and then grins. “No.”

“You—!”

“Varian!”

Varian’s eyes snap away from Hugo, and he’s almost sad to see them go. Hugo looks towards where the voice had come from, seeing a younger teenager standing in front of them with her hands on her hips. She’s tall, taller than Varian even which is hilarious. Her curly black hair ripples in the gentle breeze of the dockyard, pulled up in a perfect little up-do that Hugo can already tell takes her way too long in the morning to perfect. She’s got dark skin and amber eyes, and she’s fixing them both with a scrutinizing look, mouth pulling into a low frown when she notices Hugo. She’s wearing a purple tunic cinched tight around her waist by multiple brass-buckle belts, a sash of dark brown silk tied overtop, and dark leggings that look almost black in the sunlight. Her little heeled boots are purple as well—Hugo can sense a bit of a theme with her—and they click against the polished deck as she impatiently taps her foot.

“Nuru!” Varian says, ignoring her pointed glare. “Haven’t seen Yong by any chance, have you?”

“Afraid not,” she says, eyes flicking from Varian to Hugo. Hugo can’t help but feel the need to size her up, maybe due to the suspicious look in her amber eyes. It’s obvious she doesn’t trust him; if Hugo wasn’t absolutely certain his true identity was still secret he might even feel nervous. Ah, well— something to work on.

She finally tears her gaze away from scrutinizing Hugo, looking to Varian once again. “Why, are you looking for him?”

“Xavier is—” Varian shrugs. That creepy little automaton on his shoulder makes a mechanical chitter, a puff of steam fluffing out from between the mismatched plating making up its body. Varian doesn’t acknowledge it, his voice strong over the steam. “—and I’m giving our new junior engineer here a quick tour while I look for him.”

The title boils Hugo’s blood, it really does, especially in the self-satisfied way Varian says it. It’s like an insult, this idea that this pipsqueak is suddenly better just because he has some fancy position handed to him by his beloved Captain. As if that makes the fact that Hugo is older, smarter, and better than him null and void. Honestly, infuriating, but Hugo grits his teeth and bears it. Once this is over, once the target’s acquired and the money’s made, Hugo’ll just pitch the annoying little shit off the edge of the ship and watch him fall. It’ll be like a present to himself, a reward for a heist well heist-ed.

Hugo’s so wrapped up in the delightful image of Varian screaming as he’s tossed over the rails of the top deck, he nearly misses the conversation continuing on in front of him.

“Are you going to introduce us, then?” Nuru says primly. Her glare flicks back to Hugo, who straightens his spine a little under the scrutiny. Something in her makes Hugo wary; he’ll have to keep an eye on her.

“Oh!” Varian shakes his head. “Duh, obviously. Nuru, this is Hugo, Rapunzel’s new hire for the junior engineer position.” At least this time Varian doesn’t say the title in a way that makes Hugo want to punch him. “Hugo, this is Nuru, our assistant navigator. She’s usually up on the bridge, but you’ll see her around. Aphelion isn’t that big a ship, after all.”

Understatement of the year, really. The Aphelion is minuscule when compared to basically every other ship in port. Just a tiny trading ship, small and unassuming. Kinda like the brat who built it, Hugo snickers to himself. She might be a well made, ethereally stunning machine, but she’s small. Fast too, from what Hugo’s heard. Fast enough to outrun a band of pirates, even—

“A pleasure.” Nuru’s nose wrinkles in a way that makes it obvious this is anything but. Hugo schools his face into a delighted—it’s always so much fun making new friends—and locks eyes with her in a challenge.

“I’m sure it is,” Hugo smirks. Nuru doesn’t back down, the two of them glaring over Varian’s head. From the corner of his eye, he can see Varian scowl at being ignored, before the younger boy bodily shoves his way between them.

“Okay, enough of that,” Varian says, putting a hand out to either side, pushing Hugo and Nuru apart. “We’re all going to have to get along if we’re going to be stuck together for six months, right? Can we at least try to be civil?”

Hugo wants to retort with the obvious fact that Varian has been nothing but borderline hostile since they met, but Nuru speaks before he can, taking the stage with ease. She nods once, and steps back, almost diplomatic.

“Of course,” she says, giving Hugo one last once-over before turning back to Varian. “Have you tried the dining hall for Yong yet? Lance said he was making ginger molasses cookies, and I think Eugene was trying to rope some people into helping him steal some.”

Varian nods in thought, already moving forward. “Good enough place to start, I suppose.” He gestures for Hugo to follow, and they walk together across the polished deck of the ship, towards the back end where a large portion of the deck raises up into a second level. A large door of iron and brass stands centered on the wall, twin staircases spiraling up on either side. It’s embossed with faint carvings, suns and moons and the occasional star, all winding around a large, interlocking wheel made of solid brass in the very center. The whole thing almost looks like a square bank vault door. It’s certainly over the top, in Hugo’s humble opinion, but it’s also becoming increasingly obvious that the Aphelion, and the crew that sails her, are decidedly over the top in basically everything they do.

Ruddiger slips off Varian’s shoulders, the little automaton chittering in excitement as it hits the polished deck. The raccoon is gone in a second, scaling up one of the large chains with its weird little metal claws. It looks down on them with neon green eyes, the aperture clicking open and closed as if it were blinking. By the Maker that thing’s creepy; Hugo hates it on principle.

Varian grunts as he grabs the wheel, turning it with no small amount of effort. The spinning wheel retracts a series of pistons, a small plume of steam puffing out as the door swings open, revealing a long hallway made of the same polished wood as the deck. Large copper lights line the hallway, emitting a cheery glow that bounces off the glittering pipes of metal tucked away near the ceiling, running through the Aphelion like veins through a body. Hugo could almost call it homey, dare he say quaint, with a maroon carpet running down the length of the floor, and redwood walls lined with strips of warm brass.

It seems Aphelion is just as immaculate on the inside as she is on the outside. Hugo can’t help but grin. There’s nothing better than a ship that’s obviously been loved from her very conception.

Varian leads him on through the narrow halls, deeper into the labyrinth of the ship, roughly gesturing to the occasional doorway. “Library,” he says, pointing to a set of double doors, not faltering a single step.

“Crow’s nest.” An iron spiral staircase, spinning up into the ceiling above.

“Navigation room,” Nuru butts in, gesturing to another door. Varian smiles at that, nods.

“Navigation room,” he repeats, as they reach the end of the hallway. There’s another door like the one outside, with the same locking mechanism. Varian turns that one as well, and the first thing Hugo registers when the door opens is heat. Both Nuru and Varian continue like there’s nothing wrong, Hugo forced to follow or else get left behind. Through the door lies a metal catwalk, level with the wooden floor. 

The ground, however, dips right away, the catwalk hovering at least three stories high as it crosses the length of the large room. In the very center is a large main engine, quiet for now, but Hugo knows that once Aphelion takes flight it’ll be near deafening. It’s so big Hugo has to crane back his neck to see the top of it, surrounded by a string of metal scaffolding, catwalks and ladders and stairs, an intricate mess of pathways. The heart of the Aphelion is a large monstrosity of iron and brass, a mess of metal panels and pipes, dials and gauges, all covered in the slightest sheen of grease. It’s obvious the heart has been well loved, shined clean and immaculate, but she’s a working thing. There’s dust in her corners, grease and oil in all the little nooks and crannies, dents in her panels and places where her casing is mismatched.

She’s the most beautiful thing Hugo’s ever seen.

The room below them is a mess of pipework and wires, weaving down through the many catwalks spider-webbing the large space. They cluster and split at random, and for a second Hugo’s truly shocked. He’s seen main engine rooms before, but never one so… busy. Hugo can’t help but feel awed at seeing an honestly perfect machine, one designed from the ground up with love and dedication.

Varian strides forwards into the room with the confidence of a man three times his age, and Hugo follows slowly, almost dazed.

“Main engine room,” Varian says with an air of pride, his voice echoing against the metal walls.

Hugo finds himself following in their footsteps, sandwiched between Varian and Nuru. He doesn’t get the time he’d like to stand and stare; the tour must go on, it seems. The engine block is in the direct middle of the Aphelion, from the looks of it. Across the catwalk they go through another iron door and Hugo once again finds himself surrounded by wood panels and vaulted ceilings. It’s almost like most of the living quarters surround the engine block in a ring, an odd design for a ship. Usually engines get tucked away in the back, closest to the rudder and turbines, hidden from sight. In Aphelion, her beating heart is on display like a piece of art.

Hugo’s sad to see it go, but he knows he’ll be elbow deep in the guts of that machine soon enough. The thought is enough to tide him over, as they continue Varian’s tour.

“Cassandra’s office, for the sky guard,” Varian says, passing a large wooden door. Ah, they’re back to the list. “By invitation only.” There’s a few marks that could only be made by throwing knives that are deep in the wood. Hugo thinks that maybe it would be a good idea to avoid that particular door as they move on.

Finally they get to the end of the hall, and Hugo knows they must have walked the majority of the ship’s length by this point. They come to the final set of doors, a double wide pair of solid redwood with intricate hand-painted flowers decorating the woodwork. There’s the sound of clinking kitchenware from inside, muffled but distinct.

“Dining hall,” Varian says, with a sense of finality.

Varian pushes the door open without preamble, gesturing for the other two to follow. Nuru does so without question, and Hugo follows only a step behind. Always good to know where the food comes from, after all. Beyond the door is a large room, decorated in the same style as the rest of the living quarters of the ship; large redwood panels of wood and perfectly polished floors. A large rectangular table takes up half the space, and Hugo can count almost thirty chairs surrounding it. Small ship, small crew, Hugo supposes, though really why anyone would want to eat with their crewmates, he has no idea.

The whole back wall of the room is made of windows, from floor to ceiling. The sunset is just beginning, painting the sky a bright, cheery cherry color. Red sky at night, Hugo thinks to himself, watching as the sunset plays off the brass panels of the rudder peeking up below the large windows. Varian moves further into the dining hall, peeking over to the other side of the large space.

The other half of the room is a wide open space with couches and side tables, a sitting room of sorts. A large carpet covers the floor there, the mismatched furniture looking well worn but comfortable after years of use; it’s the kind of place where one could sit to read a book and accidentally fall asleep. A large galley window is beyond that, embedded into the wall. Hugo can see the kitchen through it, the sounds of clattering pots and pans coming from within. He logs that information for later, just in case.

Large pillars of iron support the high ceiling, the paneling almost seeming to curve, and when Hugo looks straight up he can see a perfect dome of glass in the center of the roof, held up by large iron trusses in the ceiling. The fading sunlight streams through it, bright and cheery, casting the whole room in a warm and reddish glow.

“I guess Yong’s not here,” Varian grumbles, looking around the space with a sigh. “We’ll have to keep— hey!”

Hugo only just sees Varian get tugged behind a couch, the flash of a small hand around his wrist. Nuru lets out a small laugh, gesturing for Hugo to follow as she too disappears behind the ornate velvet backing of the couch. Hugo doesn’t do hiding behind furniture like a child, so instead he opts for leaning over from the side. He bites the inside of his cheek, seeing Varian, Nuru, and a smaller boy all giggling like a bunch of idiots, sitting on the floor without a care.

“Eugene said to wait for the signal,” the boy says, red eyes alight with mischief. “And then I’m supposed to cause a distraction!” With that the kid reaches into his red vest, drawing out—

Holy shit.

“Is that dynamite?” Nuru chokes out. “Yong, we told you after last time that you weren’t allowed that anymore!”

“She’s right,” Varian says, gently taking the dynamite from the kid— Yong? Hugo’s pretty sure this one’s Yong. Little pyro— Hugo likes him already. Everything from the kid’s wide smile to his wild hair, black and nearly standing on its ends as if he’s been caught in an explosion, is eye-catching. He’s short, laughably so, shaped like a little bowling ball with all that baby fat. He can’t be older than fourteen, Hugo thinks— just an infant, really. His big eyes are red too, as vivid and bright as maraschino cherries, an oddity in Hugo’s experience. Hugo’s noticing a trend here: apparently the crew of the Aphelion all seem to be colour-coded. The kid, for example, wears a red vest and pants, only just accented by golden buttons and trim. A white shirt puffs out from under the vest, the sleeves billowing in a way that makes Hugo think it’s a hand-me-down, one the kid’s supposed to grow into. Would make sense, as it’s not like there’s many places to buy clothes for a growing boy while out in the open space between the cities.

Varian’s hands are gentle as he takes the stick of dynamite off the kid, holding it out of reach.

“There are better ways to make a distraction, ” Varian says with a smile, reaching into his tool belt. He pulls out a small, hollow ball of glass, filled to the brim with a glowing green mixture. Yong’s eyes go wide at the sight, his chubby face splitting into a grin. The kid reaches for the ball, but Varian closes his hand around it, snatching it back. “Do you promise to go help Xavier after this?” Varian asks, fixing Yong with a warning look.

The kid nods quickly, making grabby hands towards Varian’s closed fist. “Yeah, of course!”

Varian rolls his eyes, but still hands the glass ball over. Yong snickers in glee as he holds it, the green glow lighting up his face in a way that seems almost manic. Nuru bites her lip like she wants to say something— but sighs, instead, as a quiet whistle echoes through the dining room.

All four heads snap around to look across the room. Hugo raises his eyebrows. Across the dining hall, a man is poking his head up from behind a large, wingback chair made of a dark wood. He’s handsome, Hugo will admit, in a pretty-boy kind of way. He’s got a rogue-ish kind of charm to his face, with large brown eyes and tousled brown hair. And… wait a minute.

His eyes narrow. No, there’s no mistaking him. Hugo knows this one. And how could he not? Everyone in the Seven Skies knows the wild tale of Eugene Fitzherbert, former-pirate turned to a life of good, praised for helping free the lost heir to the City of Corona…

Hugo lip curls at the thought. What a disgrace, really. Flynn Rider had been a legend, the peak of the profession, and he’d thrown it all away for sickly saccharine love.

What a fucking waste.

Eugene brightens when he sees them, probably excited to see more co-conspirators, before his eyes land on Yong. He gives the kid a thumbs up, gesturing towards the window to the kitchen. With a sudden yell, Yong lobs the ball through the window, sending it flying in a perfect arc across the room. Varian tugs Hugo down by his sleeve as it explodes in a shower of smoke and glitter, and three angry voices scream from inside the kitchen. Hugo goes willingly, ducking down behind the couch as a large man comes barreling out of the kitchen through a nearby swinging door.

“My eyes!” he cries, bringing two hands up to his glitter coated face. He’s covered head to toe in green dust and glitter, the colour making him nearly monochrome. He’s big, and Hugo’s suddenly glad he’d followed Varian behind the couch.

The big man isn’t alone. Two small girls, children almost, come sprinting out from the kitchen as well, covered in the same heavy dusting of glitter. The difference being that these two look downright furious, and they’re scanning the room in rage. Hugo shrinks down further behind the couch, just in time for the shorter one’s dark eyes to land on Yong.

Yong pauses, takes in the situation, tilts his head— then straightens, grins, and gives the girl a cheerful wave. “Hi Kiera!”

“Yong!” the girl yells, her black hair flying in a flurry around her face as she charges. The other girl, a redhead, follows right behind her, borderline snarling. Yong takes one look and then yelps, turning tail and sprinting for the double doors leading back to the hall. Hugo presses his back against the back of the couch as Yong bails, the two girls following close behind as they all rush from the room. Yong’s terrified screaming gets distant and small as he tries to escape, the sound getting progressively higher pitched until a sudden series of loud bangs echo through the halls and cut him suddenly and terrifyingly silent.

The large man finally gets the glitters off his face, revealing dark skin and brown eyes. “Girls!” he wails, giving chase as well. “Girls, please, we promised no more collateral damage!” He disappears into the hall after the children, and the doors fall shut behind him with a final and echoing slam.

There’s a beat of silence, as everyone involved in this debacle waits to see if the big man will come rushing back, but after a moment it seems safe to say he’s otherwise occupied. Crouching down next to Hugo, Varian sighs, finally rising back to his feet.

“So that was Yong, Xavier’s assistant,” he says, wincing as another crash echoes from somewhere outside the dining hall. “And Lance—the big guy—and his two daughters, Keira and Catalina. They run the kitchens.”  

Hugo doesn’t really care, but he nods to pretend he does.

“Fun bunch,” Hugo says, standing as well. Nuru looks torn, her eyes flicking between where the chaos is obviously reaching a crescendo outside, and then back to the two engineers. Varian grins and hands her the dynamite, passing it like a torch.

“Maybe you should go check on them?” Varian asks, and her face lights up in a grateful smile.

“I should,” she says. Hugo would even say her tone is nonchalant, if not for the way she seems drawn to follow the sound of chaos. Busy-body, Hugo thinks, busy, busy, busy-body, and he almost laughs as Nuru spins on her heel and follows after the sound of chaos, leaving without another word.

“Hey kid!” comes a loud voice, and Hugo groans. Right, Fitzherbert. Hugo had almost forgotten.

Varian’s face splits into a grin as the man in question sashays from the kitchen, shouldering into the room with a plate full of ginger molasses cookies in his arms. Eugene already has one cookie shoved in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously, and he tosses another to Varian. Eugene is grinning around his mouth-full of pastry, and as Hugo watches, a chunk of it slips free and splats on his shirt. Gross.

“Thanks for the help!” Eugene says, though it sounds more like fanks fer dah hemp by the time it makes it through the sugar. “Couldn’t have done it without you, kid.”

Varian laughs as he catches the food, snagging a second one when Eugene offers him the tray. With a small motion he offers one to Hugo, holding it up. Hugo eyes their ill gotten gains for a second, before shrugging and taking it. He’s never been one to turn down free food, really, even if it does come from such an irritating source. Eugene seems to notice Hugo then, eyebrow raising in question. He swallows down his big bite of pastry, gasping for a second before shaking himself and looking back to Hugo. “Ah, did you finally make a friend, kid?” he asks Varian, smirking as Varian lets out an offended noise.

“Not particularly,” Varian says, crossing his arms. He’s pouting, but when Hugo glances at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement, he’s quick to turn it into a scowl. “This is Hugo. Rapunzel hired him on as a junior engineer.”

Eugene’s brows shoot up for the sky, and he looks over to Hugo. “Really?” he says, “just like that?”

“Just like that,” Varian mutters. Eugene purses his lips in thought before shrugging and sticking a hand out to Hugo.

“Eugene Fitzherbert, helmsman,” he says with a grin. “Welcome to the crew, then. Don’t let my vertically challenged friend here scare you off, I swear we’re nice.”

“Hugo,” the blond responds, ignoring Varian’s offended noise. “And don’t worry. All he’s done is try to sass his way out of admitting I was right and he was wrong about an engine part.”

Varian boreline screams at that, the offense clawing its way out of his throat as Eugene cracks up laughing. Hugo smiles at a job well done. At least someone on this crew had a good sense of humor. The man merely ruffles Varian’s hair, moving past them with his plate of ill gotten goods.

“Make sure Yong goes to Xavier!” Varian calls after him, crossing his arms. Eugene offers a thumbs up, casually shoving another dessert in his mouth.

Varian rolls his eyes and waves Hugo forward, back into the hall. “Come on. Captain’s this way. She’ll want to talk to you before we set off.”

Hugo hums, unbothered, but behind his back his fingers tighten. The Captain. Right. Okay, then— showtime. He pulls himself taller, and sets his shoulders. He’s sold them the lie, and they’ve swallowed it, but now he has to keep it going.

There’s only one room down this end of the hall— a wide curricular door with a crossed little porthole window and a brass handle. Varian knocks twice, waits until a voice calls back, and then pushes it open. He doesn’t walk in, though, instead pressing himself back against the door and then gesturing for Hugo to go first.

Oh, so it’s like this then. Hugo grits his teeth a little and then forcefully relaxes, stepping inside. He resists the urge to shoulder-check Varian as he passes— this isn’t the time for it; there’ll be other opportunities.

The Captain’s room isn’t what Hugo expects, first stepping in. It’s smaller than Donella’s by far, almost cozy, with tapestries and scarves hanging across the ceiling and hand-painted artwork scrawling the walls from floor to ceiling. There’s a wide open window deck and small personal balcony, like Donella has, but even that is smaller than Hugo expects.

Beyond small, it’s also breezy— every window open, every door thrown wide, as if trying to make the room seem bigger than it is. Hugo can practically see the whole sky sprawling out her window, the distant horizon and even the slight glint of the copper-panel lightning shields that make attacking Corona so troublesome. A small door on the side looks like it might lead to the Captain’s personal quarters, and in the center of the room is a huge desk overflowing with paper and ink and half-open books, ship logs and journals and one bizarrely placed cookbook.

Captain Rapunzel is standing at the balcony, flipping through loose papers; when Hugo enters, she tilts her head with a smile. She’s still dressed in that fancy noble’s gown, like the filthy rich kid she is, though the shoes have made a sneaky disappearance entirely. On her shoulder sits a strange chameleon-looking automaton made of some fascinatingly reflective material, looking almost mirror-like but without the fragility of glass. A little ways away, a tall woman with curly bobbed hair and sharp eyes leans against the far wall, absently flipping a knife through her fingers.

Hugo glances between them, taking in every detail in seconds before he straightens and gives both ladies a smirk. “Captain,” he says, nodding at Rapunzel. He turns his attention on the sharp-eyed woman next to her, and forces his smile wider, giving a second jaunty nod. “Random stranger.”

The woman snorts; Rapunzel laughs aloud, one hand rising to hide her smile. “Hugo,” she says, sounding delighted. God, she’s peppier than most puppies— how on earth did she get to captain of a ship like this? “It’s good to see you again! Sorry, I’ll introduce you—this is Cassandra, leader of our sky guard force.” The woman gives a short, disinterested wave with the knife. “Cass, this is Hugo— our new hire.” She turns back to Hugo, beaming. “Have you been taking a look around? What do you think?”

“She’s lovely,” Hugo says, honest for once. None of you deserve her, he thinks, also, but that comment is better left unsaid. “Aphelion is a beautiful ship.”

“She flies like a dream, too,” Rapunzel says, with a little sigh. “Ah, I’m so happy you like her! You’ll be working closely with her, so—” She pats the wall next to her head, almost fond. “Well, it’s always good to know ship and engineer agree with each other.”

Varian snorts loudly. Hugo stills at the disrespect, shoulders going stiff and hands curling so tight his fingers ache— but all Rapunzel does is wrinkle her nose, giving the other boy a swift evil eye before turning back to Hugo with an apologetic smile. “Anyways, I just wanted to check in. I know I said you’ll be starting as a junior engineer, but unfortunately you’ll be on probation for a while before you can start properly. Aphelion’s engines and pipework can be… delicate, and we want to make sure you can handle her before we throw you into the fire.” She presses her hands together. “I hope you understand?”

Hugo wrestles with himself. Probation? He hasn’t been on probation since he was ten years old, and the demotion stings worse than that goddamn junior title. He can hear Varian snickering behind him, and that burns too— that this pipsqueak gets to deal with those burning, beautiful engines, while Hugo spends fuck-knows-how-long screwing in loose bolts? Fuck that.

But this is the Captain, her orders, her word, and Hugo thinks of Donella and the job and the payoff, and in the end he shoves his fury back in the corner of his mind, smiling wide instead.

“Of course,” he says. “Sounds… lovely.”

“Only for a little while,” Rapunzel repeats, sympathetic. The silver chameleon on her shoulder trills softly, and she runs her finger down the length of its spine almost absently. “Oh, thank you, Pascal. I almost forgot.” She looks back to Hugo and claps her hands. “Room assignments!”

“Yay,” Hugo says, dryly. He takes a breath, shaking off the disappointment about probation more firmly, and holds himself a little taller. It’s fine. The worst news is over with, anyway. Hugo doesn’t really care where he ends up; Hugo has never been picky about these sorts of things. So long as it’s quiet and he’s away from the annoying pipsqueak, Hugo won’t complain.

Behind him, Varian chants, in a very poor attempt at a low whisper: please be next to the boilers, pleaseeeee be next to the boilers, please please please—

Rapunzel’s smile grows wicked. “You’ll be in the empty room next to Varian’s.”

...Wait, what?

There’s a muffled thump as Varian dramatically falls over in shock.

“Also, the room isn’t ready yet—” Rapunzel adds with a grin, “—so tonight you’ll be sleeping on Varian’s floor.”

Hugo opens his mouth. Hugo closes his mouth. Hugo grits his teeth very hard, and reminds himself that mutiny two hours after being hired is not, unfortunately, part of the plan.

Behind Rapunzel, Cassandra is laughing so hard she’s starting to wheeze. Gods damn her.

Varian is still face-first on the floor. His answering “Fuck!” is muffled into the wood.

Rapunzel frowns at him anyway. “Language,” she says, but— holy shit. Is that a smile?

It is. They’re being mocked. By the Maker, she is laughing at them. What did Hugo do to her? He thought their first meeting went fine! What the hell!?

“Is this because I ate the last slice of pie yesterday?” Varian asks the floor. “Because I am sorry. For that. So sorry. Please have mercy.”

“Oh, c’mon, up— off the floor,” Rapunzel sighs at him, still laughing, and walks by Hugo to help drag Varian up to his feet again. The boy goes reluctantly, looking despondent. “I’m not doing this as punishment, Varian, please. He’s your assistant and you two are going to be working together very closely, so he’s your responsibility. That’s all.”

“But I—” Rapunzel gives him a look. Varian visibly deflates. “Fine, fine.”

Cassandra, Hugo notes, is grinning. He narrows his eyes. That’s all, hah, he doesn’t think so. They’re being played. Hugo can sense it.

Rapunzel draws away from Varian with one fond tuffle at the other boy’s hair, then moves back towards her desk. “That’s all I really had to say, I think… Eugene will drop off a spare blanket and pillow for you in Varian’s room, Hugo, and with luck we’ll have your lodgings prepared before tomorrow night. And… yep, that’s all! Unless you have any questions?”

“No,” Hugo says, a little stiff.

“Great! And just in time for dinner… well, I won’t keep you two.” Varian is already turning away, heading for the door without so much a salute; a moment’s pause, then Hugo reluctantly follows, unsure how to deal with this odd relationship between Captain and engineer.

“I actually hate you,” Varian says with a scowl.

Rapunzel laughs. “Save me a seat!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Wild.

They’re halfway through the door when Cassandra calls out after them. “Sleep well tonight, lovebirds!”

Hugo rolls his eyes, and he grabs for the doorknob even as Varian whips around ahead of him, face flushed and eyes wide. “Cass!” Varian shouts through the door, right in Hugo’s face. “Come on! I have STANDARDS!”

Hugo chokes on a laugh, ducking his head quick to muffle it in his arm. Rude! he thinks, almost grinning at the offended face Varian makes at his back, and then pulls the Captain’s door shut with a heavy thump.

Through the door, he can hear both Cassandra and the Captain laughing. Varian is still shouting.

Six fucking months of this. Supposedly it’ll all be worth it in the end, but…

Ugh.

Hugo squeezes his eyes shut, pinching at the bridge of his nose, and refuses to admit he’s smiling too.

Dinner that night is… interesting, to say the least. Most of the crew is taking advantage of their last night on land, so the dining hall is decidedly empty. Still, there’s enough people to call the room cosy, the lot of them lining up to receive their food. Hugo’s used to a certain system: grab your plate, get your ration, and fuck off. Easy peasy. Varian doesn’t seem to want to chat too much, but he still shows Hugo where the large stacks of plates and cutlery are so he’s not totally lost.

Hugo’s surprised when Lance dramatically unveils a spread of food across the whole of the wide window between the large room and the kitchen. He must be pulling out all the stops for the last night before they set sail, Hugo muses, watching as those before them pick and choose at random what to put on their plate. It’s odd. Usually with ships you’d be lucky to get something that wasn’t freeze dried or hard as a rock. There’s actual food here, chicken and roast vegetables, and— by the Maker is that actual, honest to god cheese? Hugo can’t help but get a little excited. Rapunzel’s money must be good for something, he guesses.

The Captain isn’t there, probably off eating in her own quarters like Captains usually do. No point in associating with the common rabble, after all. Varian scoops food onto his plate, idly passing a large spoon to Hugo when he’s done with it, the motion happening without any thought. It seems that’s how it works, Hugo scooping food of his own before he passes off the spoon to Eugene, standing behind him. This is so goddamn weird, Hugo thinks to himself as he scoops more food onto his plate. Who the hell actually eats food like this on a working vessel?

The weirdness doesn’t end there, either. The way Hugo’s used to things is simple: after you win the scramble for rations, most people tend to immediately piss off to their own isolated corners of whatever ship they’re on, hiding away to eat in peace.

The crew of the Aphelion do it differently, because of course they do. When Hugo goes to leave the room, Varian grabs him by the sleeve, dragging him over to the large table he’d noticed last time they were in the room. Yong and Nuru are already there, as are Cassandra and Xavier, and a few others Hugo doesn’t have names for yet. Not that he cares, of course, because none of them matter in the grand scheme of things anyways, and why is he bothering to remember their names again?

Varian greets them with a smile, setting his food down and taking a seat. Hugo stands awkwardly for just a beat too long, holding his plate just a little too tightly, before Varian takes pity. The younger teen kicks out the empty chair next to him, gesturing for Hugo to take a seat. He does, looking around as people fill in about a third of the chairs, the lot of them clustering around one end of it. The head spot is empty, probably because it’s so close to the wall with the way the table’s jammed into the dining room. The gentle lull of conversation takes over, only growing when Lance and his daughters join as well, once everyone’s sat down. Another oddity, the kitchen staff eating with the rest of the crew.

“I just have no idea where they went!” Lance moans sadly, “I swear I made three dozen ginger molasses cookies, but now I can only find two dozen.”

“That’s rough, bud,” Eugene says, playing with the tines on his fork. “We haven’t even taken off yet and you’ve already lost your mind.”

Yong snickers from his place across from Hugo, as does Varian to his left. Hugo has to bite his lip to keep from laughing too. He’s got a reputation to uphold, after all.

Cassandra glares at them all, and they sit up a little straighter under her stare. The giggles stop, but then she smirks. “You guys tell me if he snaps,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “I need an excuse to toss him in the brig.”

Lance makes a dramatic gasp, clutching at his heart. “You wouldn’t!” he wails, “I am a single father, and you would throw me in the brig?”

“Absolutely,” Cassandra says blandly. “And your kids would help me.”

“We totally would,” Keira pipes up from her place next to Lance. “If you’re not around, bedtime is never.”

They all let up a little as Lance begins to blubber into his dinner, wailing about ungrateful children into his peas. They muddle through a little more awkward small talk, everyone dancing around the fact that Hugo doesn’t seem keen to join the conversation, until one of the doors flies open with a loud bang.

“Sorry I’m late!” Rapunzel crows, Pascal on her shoulder. “Got lost charting some stuff for tomorrow.”

She borderline skips past the table, grabbing a plate and humming as she loads it with food from the spread. Hugo nods to himself, ah that must be what the chair at the head of the table’s for. They all watch her spin around and come towards the table, and Hugo waits to be proven correct.

Therefore, when Rapunzel sets herself down to Hugo’s left, he’s left a little confused.

What kind of Captain eats with their crew? The absurdity of it throws Hugo for a loop, the sheer oddness confusing at best. Varian snickers by Hugo’s other side, watching as Rapunzel begins to shovel food into her mouth like she’s been starving for weeks. When she breaks for air she turns to Hugo, leaning an elbow onto the polished wood of the table and balancing her chin on her hand. She looks at him with excitement, bouncing in her seat. What an actual lunatic.

“So,” she says, her grin getting wider, “how was the rest of your afternoon?”

“Fantastic,” Varian says, answering for Hugo, but Rapunzel flicks a pea at him.

“Wasn’t asking you,” she says as Varian throws another pea back. She slaps it out of midair, obviously used to this. “I was asking Hugo. So?”

“Nah, it was good,” Hugo says, trying to school his face into a smile. “Very… educational.”

“It’s a lot at first,” Rapunzel nods. “But you’ll get used to it— I promise!”

Varian snorts, but doesn’t say anything. The conversation drifts then, easy and light like they’ve been doing this for years.

Hugo realizes with a start that they probably have.

He shuffles food around on his plate, unseeing as he begins to think of a game plan. It’s obvious that he’s going to have to tweak his original idea. It seems as though skulking around like he usually does is only going to seem more than a little suspicious with such a tightly knit crew. A bit of a wrench in the engine, but nothing he can’t handle. Donella’s counting on him, after all; it wouldn’t be due to let the boss down.

Xavier seems to be going on about some legend or another, the whole table politely tuning him out. Eugene seems to be almost asleep, borderline leaning on Cassandra as he balances his chin on his hand, elbow planted firmly on the table. Hugo can see a shimmer of something on his shoulder, startling when Pascal shifts into view with the faintest glimmer of shifting colour. God what a creepy thing to make. The chameleon shaped automaton wiggles on Eugene’s shoulder before letting his tongue fly, catching Eugene right in the ear. He wakes up with a shriek, loudy screaming as he jolts upright.

The whole table erupts into laughter, even Xavier. Hugo can hear Rapunzel gasping for breath through the loud laughs, cackling at her husband’s expense. Hugo can see Varian out of the corner of his eye, the shorter boy nearly face first in his dinner as his shoulders shake with giggles. Hugo fully turns to him, ignoring Eugene’s howls about goddamn awful frogs, and sees Varian just as he snorts on his own giggles, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Hugo stares for just a second, caught up in the sight of it—

Cute.

—Oh. Oh, fuck no, he is not going there. Even if Varian isn’t half bad to look at, he’s still a certified pain in the ass, not to mention part of the crew Hugo is here to rob. No amount of sass or big, baby blue eyes will ever change that. At the end of the day, Varian’s merely an obstacle between Hugo and his prize, and there is no way Hugo is letting anything stop him. Hugo tears his eyes away from Varian, shaking himself. Think of the money, stupid, he tells himself, think of the fortune.  

The laughter dies down after a few more seconds, Eugene finally getting Pascal off his shoulder and onto the table. The little automaton scurries back to it’s master, Rapunzel scooping him up and petting along his metal back with a coo. It reminds Hugo of Varian and that stupid raccoon, the way she treats the automaton like it’s a pet. Strange.

Dinner settles into a companionable silence after that, everyone too busy stuffing their faces to really make conversation. This, Hugo can already guess, is probably the quietest they ever get on this ship. Hell, he’d even put money on it. They’re nothing if not a lively bunch, to say the least. Not really Hugo’s style of people; the whole peppy, loving-life, sappy crew that children dream to be a part of someday.

It’s disgusting, is what it is.  

Rapunzel doesn’t try to loop Hugo into any more conversations, thankfully, the Captain disappearing from dinner just as abruptly as she’d entered. “Sorry guys!” she says, borderline tossing her plate into a square bucket by the kitchen window. “Can’t stay long, lots to do before tomorrow!”

Everyone calls their goodbyes, but she’s out the door in a swish of purple fabric before many of them can even speak. Varian just laughs and gathers his own dishes, holding a hand out for Hugo’s as well. The blond stands when Varian gestures with his chin, following across the room to a strange set of three pipes, all embedded in the wall. They’re brass, blending in with the warm wood well enough that Hugo hadn’t noticed them until now.

“Forks, knives, spoons,” Varian says, gesturing to each one. He holds a fork up in display before putting it into the tube labeled forks in looping, whimsical blue-painted script. The other pipes are labeled as well, and under each label the pipes have a small metal button in the center. Once the fork is in Varian taps the button with his thumb, the tube making a little shwoop-ting noise as the fork is dropped down into it. There’s the tiniest puff of steam before a little piece of metal pops back up as Varian releases the button, blocking the pipe once again.

“I made Lance an automatic dishwasher for his birthday last year,” Varian explains, “It’s not… delicate enough for anything made of glass, but for silverware it’s great.”

Hugo snorts, his brain running a mile a minute as to how to make it work for glasses and the like before he has to stop himself. He’s not here to make friends, and he’s certainly not here to be helpful. Hugo tries the knives chute for himself, delighting as the cutlery disappears into the void below. He might have to ask Donella about getting that for their own ship, really, not that Hugo would ever give Varian the satisfaction of Hugo asking how he made it.

They’ve only just made it out of the dining hall, before Varian is nearly bowled over by a frantic man with red hair. The new guy— tall and gangly and looking one good breeze away from falling right over the edge— is the throes of panic, half-way ranting even as he grabs at Varian’s shoulders. Varian holds up his hands  and backpedals, nearly falling into Hugo, shying away from the frantic energy of the man in front of them.

“Woah, woah— Feldspar, what’s happened now?” Varian asks, not-so-subtly trying to inch away as the redhead gets closer.

“It’s water pipe eighteen!” Feldspar— Hugo doesn’t even know where to start with a name like that— crows, nearly tugging his own hair out. “It’s popped again, I don’t know what happened!”

“Again?” Varian mutters. “We’re not even in the air this time!”

Feldspar only nods, grabbing at Varian’s wrist. The short boy sighs, looking back to Hugo with a scowl. “Stay here,” he says, already letting Feldspar tug him away. “I won’t be long.”

Hugo nods, smiling and giving him a thumbs up. It’s obvious that Varian doesn’t believe the false innocence for even a second—Hugo can tell by the way his eyes narrow and Varian’s head cocks to the side—but Feldspar is already screeching about water damage and oh by the Gods it’s everywhere, and so Varian has no choice but to follow the hysterical man back to whence he came.

Hugo keeps his grin in place until they round the corner. The minute Varian loses sight of him, Hugo drops the grin like it’s wronged him, pivoting once on his heel and walking right away.

“Stay there, Hugo,” the blond mutters to himself, pitching his voice to be deliberately wheedling and annoying. “I’ll be right back... buncha bullshit.”

The halls of the Aphelion are long and winding, but nothing Hugo can’t handle. He skates his way through with ease, eventually finding his way back up to the deck. Hugo steps out from a different door than he’d come in from, this one decidedly smaller and more unassuming than the one Varian had shown him earlier this afternoon. It’s still in the vault door style Hugo’s noticed they like to use, a great iron door embedded in the wood with a spinning wheel for a handle.

Hugo slips out onto the deck as quietly as he can, cautiously closing the metal door behind him. It ghosts along on perfectly oiled hinges, silent in the inky black of the late evening. The deck is empty, save for Hugo, but he still takes his time. He needs to find where the cargo hold is, and soon—

A sudden bang comes from the dock below. Hugo drops to the polished wood of the deck on reflex, dipping down so he’s nearly pressed up against the boards. He chances moving towards the edge of the deck, peeking over the immaculate railing and down to the dockyard below.

Four large figures stand on the copper panels that make up the docks, all of them wrapping chains around… a very large something. Hugo perks up with interest when he sees it. Bingo, something in him whispers. Donella had never told him exactly what the Aphelion had been transporting, only that it was incredibly valuable. From the shady way Varian had dodged Hugo’s questioning earlier in the day, Hugo can hedge his bets: it’s the kind of thing that can make a man rich beyond their wildest dreams.

The box seems to be a containment chamber of some kind, a five foot squared box of metal panels all bolted together with perfect accuracy. There’s a single porthole of glass bolted into one of the sides, and Hugo can only justsee a neon green light filtering through… is that ice? Sure enough the window is frozen over, and Hugo can even pick out the beginnings of hoarfrost crawling up the corners of the chamber.

Puffs of frozen air seep slowly from the seams in the metal box. Liquid nitrogen, Hugo thinks to himself, sinking down a little deeper as the side of the Aphelion slides open, a great door in the outer wall of the ship. The men wrapping the containment chamber finish their work, and a metal crane extends from the guts of the Aphelion. This is pretty standard for larger pieces of cargo, of course, to bring it directly into the cargo bay from the outside, but in the dead of night? With minimal crew to get it in place?

Suspicious.

Hugo watches as the great metal box is lifted into the air, lifting off the cart the men had brought it in, the Aphelion reeling it in like a caught fish—

“Hugo?!” a frantic voice calls behind him, and Hugo whirls around, half-rising from his bannister hiding spot to see Varian, standing right behind him and looking undeniably pissed. “Hugo, you’re not supposed to be up here!”

If anything Varian looks spastic, and when he hears the commotion being made from the cargo being loaded onto the Aphelion, he outright blanches, going pale in the face. He grabs at Hugo’s sleeve and starts to pull.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Varian says, dragging Hugo away. The blond thinks about putting up a fight, but logic tells him that would end badly. Or, at least, with Hugo being fired before he can even get what he came for. He lets Varian drag him away, chancing one last look back.

He gets one last glimpse of the box, finally in the Aphelion, the doors beginning to inch quietly shut. In the next instant Varian has pulled him out of range, but the damage is already done.

Bingo, Hugo thinks again.

Varian bullies him off the deck, forcing him down into the labyrinthian hallways of the ship. “Why the hell were you up there?” Varian demands, stopping them once they are well and truly away from the deck. “You were supposed to wait for me near the dining hall, why did you wander off?”

“Got bored,” Hugo says, shrugging. Varian’s eyes narrow, as though trying to intimidate him. It’s adorable. “Needed some fresh air, goggles, is that a crime now?”

“It is when I told you to stay put,” the shorter boy snaps. “That cargo’s confidential; you weren’t supposed to know about it.”

“Need-to-know-basis?” Hugo asks with a smirk, remembering Varian’s words from earlier that afternoon. If anything, Varian’s scowl deepens, his teeth gritting just a little tighter.

“Exactly,” Varian hisses, “and you weren’t supposed to know, so you’d do well to forget everything you saw up there.”

Hugo holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Sure, goggles, can’t be that important.”

Varian huffs out a frustrated noise, and Hugo smirks. Better to feign nonchalance now that he’s been caught; if he tries to dig now Varian would be more suspicious than he already is. Varian can’t prove Hugo was snooping, and that’s enough to keep Hugo safe… in theory.

The shorter boy looks ready to punch Hugo, but he can’t, and it’s so delicious. Hugo would laugh, if he weren’t so irritated.

Varian finally settles for clenching his fist in the air with frustration, then motions for Hugo to follow him further down the hall. This is a new part of the Aphelion, one lined with doors on every side of the hallways. Varian leads Hugo to one of the doors near the end, opening it and gesturing for Hugo to follow inside.

He does, without question.

“Your room’s not done until tomorrow,” Varian mutters as they walk into a sparse bedroom. Hugo makes a face at the room: the automaton, Ruddiger or whatever, is already sitting on the bed, fast asleep. So creepy. “You’re bunking with me, like Rapunzel said.”

Yeah, Hugo knows; he hasn’t exactly forgotten that he’s going to have to share a room with this pain in the ass. He steps inside and stands still in the center of the room, hearing Varian close the door behind them.

Despite himself, his hands curl into fists, half-hidden by his sides. Irritation bubbles bitter and acidic in his chest. He knows better, he knew going in this job wouldn’t be that easy—but still. They were loading the stupid thing right in front of him, and if it weren’t for Varian, Hugo could have…!

Damn it.

He lets out a thin breath through his teeth, a low hiss— then turns and meets Varian’s narrow gaze with a bright smile. Varian looks annoyed to see it; Hugo smiles harder in retaliation. Behind his back, his fists clench. It’s been a long day, a tiring day, and Varian is the cause of most of the bullshit. Hugo is allowed to be pissed about it, okay?

“So?” Hugo says, and if it takes more effort than usual to keep his voice light, well. “Where am I sleeping?”

Varian’s expression sours at the reminder. “Right,” he mutters, and makes for the far wall, towards a small bolted dresser with shuttered doors. “Eugene should have put some blankets in here somewhere…”

The room is cozy, Hugo notes, almost absently; sparse and clean and rarely used, the bed made and sheets crisp. Something tells Hugo that Varian doesn’t spend much time here—wherever his workspace on this ship, Hugo would bet good money it’s a disorganized mess with a cot under the desk for all nighters.

Still, the room isn’t shabby—a nice size, with a dresser and side table and a wide bed. There’s a large porthole window looking out the right side of the ship, into the dockyard, and a copper lantern hangs from the ceiling like a droplet, swinging faintly with the sway of the ship. A heavy shag carpet takes up most of the floor, a dark gray turned multi-colored from past experiments. The rest of the walls are taken up by shelves, stuffed full of books and materials and spare parts. The smell of oil lingers faintly in the air. If Hugo hadn’t been so irritated, he might have even found it nice.

Instead he finds it vexing, and as Varian shakes out the extra bedding and lays it down, Hugo rakes his eyes down the walls and feels a sneer curl his lips. “Homey,” he says, mild as the weather, and makes it sound like half-an insult. “I bet it’s real fun to fix those shelves up again once one rock sends them sprawling, hm?”

“They’re locked in with magnets. My design.” Hugo scowls; Varian looks up, grinning a little. “Also, all furniture is bolted down, too, to avoid exactly that.”

It’s clever. Hugo hates it. “Lovely,” he says dryly, as unimpressed as he can make it, and wanders across the room with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His eyes catch on the dresser. There’s only one thing on it: a metallic frame with a small sepia photograph, faded and worn with time. The photo is of a young boy, obviously Varian given the matching stripe in his hair, and a man—tall and broad-shouldered with deep set eyes, smiling wide and fond at the child sitting up on his shoulders.

“Who’s that?” Hugo wonders, looking at the frame, picking it from the dresser. The magnet sticks a bit, but he pries it up pretty easy. “Daddy dearest? I don’t think we’ve been introduced. What’s he do— swab the deck?”

Varian’s voice is very quiet. “Put it down.”

Hugo looks back, mocking. “What—”

He goes silent, his mouth snapping shut. Varian isn’t even looking at him. He’s staring at the photo, pale and a little wild-eyed, hands clenched. “Put it down,” he says again, and there’s nothing in his voice at all.

Hugo’s irritation flatlines; something in his gut drops. Shit. He’s crossed a line, somewhere, without even knowing it. He puts down the photo at once, stepping back, hands raised and empty. “I didn’t mean to—”

Varian shoulders past him, dead-eyed and cold. “Good night.”

“I—”

“Good night.”

Hugo takes the hint. He edges towards his bed roll, lips pressing thin, uncomfortable. He’d just wanted to push some buttons, not—this. He’s not sure what this is, or why he feels vaguely ill. Is this guilt? Oh, shit.

Varian shucks off his coat, under the covers before Hugo can even blink. Hugo settles on his own blanket pile just as the light snaps off. It’s dark.

Hugo looks down at his hands, staring until his eyes adjust and he can see the shape of them in the dark, listening to the ragged drag of Varian’s breathing. He doesn’t move, not yet. He just sits, and listens, and watches his hands.

And he waits. Just to see. Just in case.

But Varian doesn’t speak to him again.

Hugo opens his eyes to a dark morning.

A headache pulses behind his eyelids almost at once, and Hugo grits his teeth and presses a hand against his temples. He hisses a breath between his teeth as silently as he can. He’d planned for this, when he’d finally laid down last night to sleep—there’s no better time for snooping on the ship then in the dead-hours of morning, after all—but still. He’d had a long day yesterday, and a late night, and something in him despairs at the dark sky he sees outside Varian’s window. The sun isn’t even remotely up yet.

Ughhhhhhh.

He climbs to his feet, silent as a grave, pulling up his coat and boots to take with him. He stands, listening intently for any change in Varian's breathing, and once satisfied he moves noiselessly to the door. It’s time to get to work at his actual job.

He slips out the door, and eases it closed; it clips shut with only the slightest of thumps. So far, so good. Hugo pulls on his coat as he pads his way down the hall, boots still dangling from his hands. The hallway is dead silent, and dark, only one out of every four lanterns still lit. Hugo takes his time, listening, but no one else seems to be awake yet…

No, wait. Hugo stills mid-step, eyes widening. Because there, if he strains his ears…

Footsteps, high above him.

The deck.

...What was it Varian had said, yesterday? Leaving tomorrow, and I mean tomorrow. Which means—a morning lift off.

It’s ass o’clock in the morning, and the rest of the crew has apparently chosen this to be the time to trope on back indoors. So…

Hugo closes his eyes and rubs at the bridge of his nose, tired all the way to his bones. Oh, he thinks. Fuck me.

Well. He’s awake now, no changing that, and there’s no way he’ll be getting back to sleep anytime soon. Hugo scrubs his hands through his hair and kneels down to put on his boots. He won’t be able to go to any of the places he needs to check out, but he can still take a look around. And if anyone asks, he’ll just say he couldn’t sleep.

Still: so annoying.

He steps up onto the main deck already frowning, and squeezes his eyes shut at what he finds—people, not enough to be loud but definitely too many to hide from, walking silent across the ship, carrying crates and tying down final shipments. They speak in muted, hushed voices; soft laughter drifts across the deck. Far-off over the edge of the deck, he can see sparks of lightning hanging in the air, Corona’s floating shields up and running even in this early hour.  It’s still dark, but this high up Hugo can see the thin line of blue starting to band the horizon, the gold hue creeping into the distant clouds: dawn, slowly but surely on its way.

Hugo looks away, and beelines for the stairs leading up to the upper deck; if he’s going to be out here, he might as well get a view. He gets half-way up before he realizes the deck isn’t as empty as first thought—there, in the far corner, elbows resting on the railing and her eyes turned towards a slumbering Corona, is Rapunzel.

Hugo stills, preparing to back away—but it’s too late. She turns to look at him, and catches his gaze. Hugo doesn’t move.

After a long pause, Rapunzel smiles at him, something hushed in her expression. She gestures him to her, and Hugo, though reluctant, goes.

He steps up beside her, gingerly resting his elbows on the railing in a mimicry of her pose, and turns his face to the city too so he doesn’t have to look at her. He’s not sure what to make of this Captain, all things considered; she’s childish and naive and preppy, too genuinely cheerful by half, and these are all things Hugo holds in disdain. And yet, at the same time, the paradox: she is Captain of the Aphelion, the fastest ship in all seven skies, the jewel of the northern skyline. She is a legend.

He doesn’t understand her at all.

Hugo turns his face up into the wind, taking comfort from the cold. Corona is a dark blot on the slowly lightening skyline, as asleep as cities ever get, the lamplights burning a distant orange and the trains all silent. It is a dark city lit only by faint, distant dollaps of light like fireflies, but as Hugo watches, a thin band of gold haloes the highest point, the first spire of the Sun’s temple, a thin circle of sunlit glow like a crown.

The silence stretches, and Hugo shifts, a little uneasy. “What,” he says, for lack of anything better. “Homesick already?”

Rapunzel laughs quietly. “Do I look homesick?”

He glances at her from the corner of his eye and falters, because— no, maybe not homesick. Hugo doesn’t even know what that would look like. But there is something muted in her, something sad, a strange sort of melancholy as she looks out over the city.

“I don’t know,” Hugo says, and looks away, discomforted by his own honesty.

Rapunzel is quiet again. Then she sighs, soft, a heavy exhale. “No,” she says. “No, not homesick. I never really miss Corona, though I probably should.” Her smile twists, goes funny at the edges. “But no. Aphelion, this ship, she’s home to me. Corona is… just a place.”  

Hugo makes a face at that, utterly involuntary, and turns away too late. Rapunzel hums, thoughtful. “You don’t agree?”

He thins his lips, fingers curling on the railing. He shouldn’t—it’s stupid and he knows better, never antagonize a Captain, and especially not her; Hugo can’t afford an enemy this early into the game.

But he’s tired, and his head hurts, and he’s so sick of it, this goody-two-shoes crew with their sweet sayings and friendship bracelets and lack of anything resembling a sense of reality, and his fingers are digging into the wood before he can even think to stop himself.

“What’s the deal with that?” he asks, unable to keep from sounding snide. “With all that ‘the ship is home’ shit. I mean—come on.”

Rapunzel tilts her head, brow furrowing. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean— ” He gestures, expansive, to the ship, something tight and angry winding in his chest, like laughter, only cruel. Because home? The Aphelion is beautiful, yes; Donella’s ship is lovely too, in its way. But Hugo has never been so stupid as to call a ship home. Ships are fallible, breakable, and crews shift like the tides; it’s a place of commerce and trading and battle. Not home, whatever home is, whatever that sort of thing looks like. Home stays on the ground; home is just Hugo, and all the riches in the world; home is—not necessary. Not needed.

“Look, I don’t mean any offense, Captain, but—how can a ship be a home?” He scoffs, scornful, and shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “It’s a place of employment. It’s a job.”

Rapunzel is staring at him now. She’s turned away from the city entirely, looking right at him. Her eyes are pale green and sharp as glass, and all at once Hugo realizes what he’s saying, who he’s saying it to, and he clenches his jaw and braces himself and waits for the verdict. Gods, if he gets fired over this, before liftoff, just because he couldn’t resist being mouthy, Donella is going to kill him. Hugo won’t even blame her. This was such a bad idea, in hindsight, so fucking stupid—

But after a moment Rapunzel blinks, and instead of going cold, or angry, or commanding, she does the most baffling thing she’s done yet: she smiles. At Hugo, directly at him, and it is a warm smile, a fond smile, a little crooked. As if he has said something funny, instead of something cruel.  

And all she says is: “Give it some time. You’ll see.”

Hugo stares at her, utterly floored, for the first time unsure of what to say or what’s happening. And Rapunzel shakes her head, still smiling that strange, soft smile, and before Hugo can move she reaches out and pats his shoulder, once, twice, and then she takes her hand away and heads back to the stairs.

“I didn’t say it earlier, so I’ll tell it to you now, I think,” she says, face turned up to the wind. She’s smiling soft and small, and looks at him from over her shoulder. “Welcome aboard, Hugo. I really am happy to have you.”

By the time Hugo can even think to answer, she is already gone.

He stays there for a long time, just staring, not sure of what to do, or what to think about it all. For the first time in his whole life he feels—he’s not sure what this feeling is. Like being seen, or being known, like something Donella did at times, very rarely. Those brief snatches of a moment, when she’d look at him and her lips would curl into the smallest of smiles; those rare, rare times when she would reach out and ruffle his hair like he was her own. Something bizarre and strange and—

Warm.

He feels shaky. It unsettles him. He doesn’t like it—Hugo draws into himself, rubbing hard at his arms, turning back to the railing. He exhales, watching his breath mist, and shivers for a moment in the morning breeze. He—

He doesn’t know what to think.

Down in the dockyard, people are starting to shout. Dock workers are crossing to and fro around the shipyard, tossing ropes and chains, beginning to unbolt the line. The ramp up to the main deck begins a slow, laborious journey of being rolled back up for storage. The ship is waking up, getting started. He can feel the rumble of the engine starting to buzz beneath his feet with a distant hum. They’re going to fly, soon. In a few minutes’ time, they’ll be in the sky.

Hugo doesn’t move. As the blue line of the horizon turns golden with sunrise, he watches as the Aphelionslowly but surely awakens into life. The chains holding the balloon down fall first; next the fires of the engine, filling up the envelope. Muted yells are traded  across the deck, and in the distance Hugo can hear Rapunzel calling orders. The sails are hoisted tall and high; in the back of the airship, the great copper turbine starts to spin. And little by little, bit by bit, the Aphelion starts to rise.

Hugo stares down at the city, unmoving. He can see the puff of steam rising from the first morning train; the wind is starting to pick up, a comforting howl in his ears. The ship rocks beneath his feet as she settles into the wind currents, and Hugo grips tight at the railing, riding out the first fits and starts of a ship finally waking up.

And just like that, they leave Corona behind.

It takes almost no time at all to leave the dock. Even less to pass the lightning shields, those chained-linked copper panels shining bright in the sun, a loose circle around the city. After all the work it took to get here… leaving Corona takes only a moment.

As the first bit of sun crests the distant hills, Corona is already falling into silhouette. It’s beautiful. Hugo has never put much stock in cities, but… even he has to admit it. The flying city is shadowed and soft in the early morning light, outlined in shining gold, and for a moment he can truly, honestly understand why it’s named for the Sun. There is something ethereal about it. Something fragile and light like a dream, a glow that exists only now, in these in-between daybreak hours.

He watches as Corona fades away, swallowed up by the clouds, and it is only when the city is at last out of view that Hugo lets up on his grip, exhaling hard.

He bows his head over his arms, feeling a tension he didn’t know he’d had ease away from his shoulders. He laughs, a little, then remembers the Captain and her words and—that, whatever that was, and feels the smile falter and fall off his face.

He exhales into his elbows. He lifts his head, staring blankly into the clouds. What had she meant by that? You’ll see. He thinks of last night’s dinner, of Varian’s hiccuping laughter, of the way Rapunzel looked at the dawn, and—

And he thinks: Does it matter?

Does it matter what she meant? Does it matter what she wants? Does it matter that Lance has two kids and Varian snorts when he laughs; does any of it actually matter at all? Of course not. Of fucking course not. Hugo’s not here to play games or play at being their friend—he’s here for a reason, for a job, for the money at the end of the journey. Their words don’t hold any meaning. They don’t hold any meaning, not in the grand scheme of it all.

Hugo’s expression firms. His eyes narrow. His fingers curl. He shakes his head, inwardly marvelling at his own stupidity, because—seriously. What a joke. That he’s hesitated at all, that he’s wasting time on this… he knows better than that. Or, he should.

The Captain—he’s underestimated her, he thinks. He understands a little better how she came to command the ship. For a moment, despite everything, despite all logic—

Hugo shakes his head again, shakes the last echoes of that conversation away, and straightens up to his full height, yawning into one hand. Stupid, really. He knows better, he always has; at least he’s gotten one good thing out of that odd, odd conversation. He’ll have to keep an eye on the Captain after all— she’s more of a threat than he first thought, and that means… Hugo’s going to have to watch his step.

He has a job to do. He has a treasure to steal. Corona is gone and the Aphelion is in flight: six months left, now, till they touch down in the City of the Moon. Six months to plan—to prepare—to pull off the best heist this side of the northern sky.

Hugo closes his eyes, and inhales deeply, and his conviction settles hard and cold in his chest. He’s ready. He has to be. The board is set—the pieces in place—the main players chosen. Hugo versus Aphelion; Hugo versus Captain Rapunzel. Everything is as it should be. All that’s left is to play the game.

All that’s left is to win.

Hugo opens his eyes to the first dawn of many to come, and grins.

“Game on.”  

[lopithecusfanfiction]

Blinded in Chains: Chapter Four

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5089 Alternate: AO3 Author’s Note: Enjoy! Tag List: @justsmilestuffhappens @tkandbuck @poppy3019 @mysepticheartfan1 @idealuk @irrationalyperfect @claire-nyc​ @javachik @ordinaryxgirl​ @silverrose6​ @wifeofkyloren17​ @haileymatthewss​ @daughter-of-infinity​

Buck doesn’t sleep that night after he’s told they are going to wake up Eddie in two days’ time. Or, at least, he tries to sleep but fails. Instead, he is up most of the night staring at the monitor, watching the thin white line going up and down in the rhythm of Eddie’s heartbeat. They’ve slowly taken him off the ventilator a few hours ago to make sure that Eddie can breathe on his own and once they were satisfied that he can, they hooked him up to a nasal cannula.

Buck has a shift he has to go to in a couple of hours despite not sleeping. He debates with himself whether or not to call in sick. Not because he’s tired, he’s way too wired for that, but because he doesn’t know if he could stand being away from Eddie for long periods of time at such a crucial time. He needs to be here just in case something goes wrong. The nurses reassure him more than once that, at this stage, it’s very unlikely that anything will happen and that they will update him on his hourly calls.

It doesn’t calm Buck down any but it does somehow give him the strength to get up, drive home, take a shower and get dressed, and then drive to work. He gets there late but it’s okay because, by now, everyone knows where he’s coming from. Some of the other crew members ask him about Eddie and he gives them the good news before hightailing it to the locker room where Chimney and Hen are standing there, waiting to ambush him. He tries to sigh discretely at seeing them, having come to the locker rooms to not only change but to hide from all the prying eyes and questions.

“Hey,” Hen is the first one to greet him, her eyebrows furrowing. “You look tired, Buckaroo.”

“Did something happen?” Chimney asks next, leaning against the lockers.

Buck shakes his head as he makes his way over to his locker, unlocking it and starting to change. “They’re waking Eddie up tomorrow.”

The room plummets into silence as the other two take in that information. “I’ll be there,” Hen says after a minute, nodding pointedly.

“I have to work tomorrow,” Chimney sounds regrettable, frowning at the fact that he won’t be there to support his friend.

“I’m sure we can get someone to cover you.” Hen shrugs. “We’ll talk to Bobby.”

Buck finishes pulling on his uniform, feeling his anxiety rising incrementally. “I haven’t told Bobby yet.” They look at him. “I haven’t really told anyone yet.”

“Isabel? His parents? Christopher?” Chimney clarifies.

Buck shakes his head. “What if… what if I tell them and something happens?”

“Like what?” Hen inquires. “I thought Eddie was doing better?”

“I don’t know. He-he has been but…” Buck takes a deep breath. It’s suddenly way too hard to breathe. “It’s been… There have been so many close calls…”

Hen walks up to him and places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “Eddie will be fine. He’s getting better and if he wasn’t, they wouldn’t be waking him up. Nothing is going to happen to him, Buck.”

Buck nods slowly but Hen’s words don’t help him at all. “I’ve got to go tell Bobby.” He pushes past Hen and walks by Chimney without another word. He finds Bobby in his office. “Bobby, can I talk to you for a second?”

Bobby gestures towards the chair that is situated in front of his desk. “Of course.”

Buck enters the office, closes the door, and sits down in the offered chair. He clears his throat, willing his hands to stop shaking. “Eddie is going to be woken up tomorrow.” Bobby nods, a ghost of a smile pulling at the edges of his lips. “Chimney has to work but he was wondering if maybe someone could cover him so he can be there?”

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. I want to be there as well,” Bobby says. The older man then looks Buck up and down. “You doing okay?”

Buck shrugs. “I’m doing alright. Nervous, I guess.”

Bobby gives him a reassuring smile. “He’ll be fine, Buck.”

“Bobby, in this line of work, I’ve been taught to always expect the worst to happen. There’s still time-”

“No, Buck,” Bobby interrupts. “Eddie is waking up tomorrow. Let’s not drown our relief and excitement for that in the worry of worse case scenarios.”

Buck looks to the floor, nodding minutely. He doesn’t have the energy to argue with him. “He might still be blind,” he says quietly.

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” Bobby shifts and his chair creeks, causing Buck to look up. “Are they going to test it right away?” Buck shrugs. The doctor hadn’t told him anything about testing Eddie’s sight and before Buck can state that, the bell rings. Bobby stands, sighing heavily. Buck knows this whole thing hasn’t been easy for him either. “Duty calls, Buck.”

Again, Buck nods and follows Bobby out, jogging to the firetruck.

*~~~*

Buck does eventually tell Eddie’s family and Eddie’s parents get a flight out that afternoon, arriving that night. They convene at Isabel’s with Buck coming over to check on Christopher before going back to the hospital to spend the rest of the night with Eddie. The first thing Buck is greeted with when he steps into the house is a lecture.

“You look too tired and thin,” Isabel chastises. She immediately hands him a donut from the half a dozen she had picked up after Christopher had begged her for some.

He smiles at her sheepishly. “Thank you.”

“You need to start taking better care of yourself, Buck.” She starts walking away and Buck follows her throughout the house.

Before this whole thing happened, Buck and Isabel hadn’t really known each other all that well. She knew Buck and Eddie were close friends and that Buck looked after Christopher sometimes, that Buck loves that kid almost as much as, if not just as much as, Eddie but her and Buck never really spoke much. After the accident, however, they’ve gotten to know each other a lot better. They’ve had long conversations with one another as they both sat next to Eddie in the hospital. Isabel always came by to visit her grandson every day and Buck was almost always there, never leaving Eddie’s side unless absolutely necessary. So it wasn’t hard to see each other and interact with one another. Now, she treats him as if he were her friend too, or maybe, if Buck really thinks about it, like Eddie’s boyfriend. Buck doesn’t correct her line of thinking and she never asks him, which Buck is grateful for.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says which earns him a playful glare. 

In the living room is Christopher with his grandparents. All three of them are on the floor, playing with a train set that Buck knows Eddie had bought Christopher for his birthday. Christopher hears him and Isabel enter the room and immediately jumps up. “Buck!”

“Hey, Buddy!” Buck crouches in order to give Christopher a hug. When he pulls back, he holds out the strawberry frosted donut to him. “Here.”

A wide grin spreads across Christopher’s face. “Thanks, Buck!”

Isabel swats him on the back of the head as Christopher turns around and heads back to the train set. “That was for you.”

“Sorry, Isabel,” Buck starts, standing. “I can’t resist that charming Diaz smile.”

“So I’ve gathered,” she comments, making Buck blush a deep red.

Helena and Ramon walk up to them, leaving Christopher to it. “Hello, Buck,” Helena greets, giving him a quick hug.

Buck gives the two his sweetest smile he can possibly manage. “It’s good to see you two again.”

“Wish it was under better circumstances,” Helena says.

Buck nods in agreement. “Me too.” He then looks past their shoulders to the nine-year-old playing on the floor. “Have you told him?”

Ramon nods. “Yes. He’s excited. It’ll probably be hard for him to sleep tonight.”

“He’s looking forward to finally talking to his dad,” Helena adds, a small smile in place.

 “Wait, you’re going to let him be there when Eddie wakes up?” Buck asks, astounded.

Ramon and Helena’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Of course,” Ramon says. “He’s Eddie’s son and deserves to be there.”

“Plus,” Helena continues. “I’m sure Eddie would love to see him.”

“See him?” Buck has to swallow to keep himself from raising his voice incredulously. “But he can’t see him.”

“We don’t know that,” Isabel states but Buck is already angry at the nonchalance of the whole ordeal.

“No, but they aren’t taking the bandages off his eyes before they wake him,” he states, trying to stay calm and quiet so Christopher can’t hear him. “What if they decide to take them off just after he’s woken up and he still can’t see? The whole thing is going to be traumatic and overwhelming enough as is. You don’t think not being able to see his kid who is right there won’t just add to that? No,” Buck shakes his head, determined. “No, Eddie needs to process the situation before he learns he might never set eyes on his son ever again.” He shakes his head again. “Not to mention how upsetting it’ll be to Christopher to have to learn that way that his father can’t see him and never will.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Ramon asks him.

Buck shrugs. “Christopher goes to school like normal and if Eddie is willing and wanting to, then we let Christopher see him.”

“Are you suggesting Eddie won’t want to see his son?” Ramon accuses.

Buck refuses to be intimidated. They don’t seem to understand the extent of the situation. Buck has seen things like this many, many times in his life due to his work. He knows how traumatic this can be for both parties. “No, of course, Eddie’s going to want to see him but the point is, is that he can’t see. He’s going to have to have time to wrap his head around that and be allowed to feel… whatever it is he’s going to feel instead of worrying about making sure his kid isn’t scared.”

“I think Buck is right,” Isabel speaks up, stepping closer to him. “Eddie will want to protect Christopher from whatever is happening. He shouldn’t have to be made to put up a front in such an emotional situation.”

Helena and Ramon exchange glances with each other before Ramon talks. “Fine, but you will be the one to tell him.” He points to Buck, the unspoken words loud and clear. He wants Buck to be the bad guy, to be the one who breaks Christopher’s heart.

Buck frowns, trying to ignore the heavy weight that has settled itself on his chest. “Okay,” he says quietly, sounding small to even his own ears.

He waits until Christopher is in bed before he talks to him. Buck tucks him in, sits on the edge of the bed, reads a book to him because Christopher begged him to, and then takes in a deep breath to begin talking. "Hey, Chris, listen, I know you're excited about your dad waking up tomorrow but I think it's best if you go to school and come see your dad later if he’s up to it."

Buck has a hard time looking at Christopher's crestfallen face, his heart breaking for the nine-year-old. "Why? he asks.

Buck sighs, running a hand on his thigh nervously, and explains in the best way he knows how. "Your dad is going to be really tired and confused when he does wake up and the doctors are going to want to do a bunch of tests on him. I think it would be less stressful for your dad and for you if there were fewer people there." He runs a hand through Christopher’s curls. “Do you understand?”

“I… I think so,” Christopher looks up at him with those big blue eyes. “I trust you, Buck.”

Buck pulls Christopher into a tight hug, the boy wrapping his arms around Buck’s shoulders. “Thank you, Christopher.” Placing a quick kiss on top of Christopher’s head, Buck pulls back, running his hand through those curls one last time. “Get some sleep.”

He stays there until Christopher falls asleep, praying that Eddie will be able to see his son again.

*~~~*

By some miracle, they are all allowed to pack into Eddie’s room while they await the doctor’s arrival. Buck sits in his usual spot, holding onto Eddie’s left hand while his parents sit on the opposite side of the bed. Isabel, Bobby, Chimney, and Hen all stand around in various spots of the room. Eddie would probably hate all the attention he’s getting if he knew they all were there.

Buck’s nerves are on overdrive. He can’t believe this day has finally arrived. He’s going to be able to talk to Eddie for the first time in weeks and it makes him feel giddy but anxious at the same time. He subconsciously squeezes at Eddie’s hand, watching his face closely. He wonders when the doctor is finally going to be coming to tell them when and how this whole process is going to play out.

It takes another half hour before the doctor knocks on the door and enters. Everyone turns to him and his eyes widen with how many people are there. “Hello everyone,” he greets. Buck, Helena, and Ramon stand, buck rubbing his hands on his thighs nervously. “I guess I’ll get right to it then.”

The doctor explains to them what is going to happen. He tells them that he is going to slowly decrease the amount of the drug that is keeping Eddie in the coma in order to transfer Eddie into the waking room as gradually as possible. He warns them that Eddie is probably going to be very groggy and confused at first, along with being pretty weak due to not moving for a while. He then says the one thing that Buck probably presumes Eddie’s parents didn’t want to hear.

“I believe it would be a less stressful transition into consciousness if there was only one person here when it happened. The rest of you are free to wait in here for a few hours since it will take a while for Mr. Diaz to waken, but I suggest only waiting for about two hours. Then you are welcome to wait out in the waiting room until we can exam Mr. Diaz more and let you know if he can see more people,” the doctor explains.

Helena grabs onto her husband’s hand. “Can it be two people? It’s just, we’re his parents and we would like to be here for it.”

Before the doctor can even reply, Chimney is speaking up. “It should be Buck.”

All eyes turn to Chimney. “What?” Ramon asks.

The doctor holds up his hands. “I’ll let you all discuss who is going to stay for the process but if you do decide that it’ll be Mr. Diaz’s parents, then I see no problem in letting them both stay. A nurse will be in shortly to lower the dosage of Propofol that is being given to Mr. Diaz to keep him asleep.” He then leaves, giving them all an encouraging smile.

Ramon turns back to Chimney. “What do you mean it should be Buck?”

“Think about it,” Chimney begins. “Eddie is going to want to act strong and tough for his parents and anyone else for that matter. He deserves to react to this situation in whatever way he needs to instead of pretending to be fine and hiding his emotions.” He shrugs. “And to be quite honest, Buck is the only person I’ve ever seen Eddie be vulnerable in front of to allow himself that kind of freedom.”

“Well, that’s why we didn’t bring Christopher,” Helena states. “Because Buck thought the same thing, that Eddie would want to put up a front for him.”

“And Buck is right, Eddie would do that but he would also do that for the rest of us as well, except for Buck.” Chimney shoves his hands into his pockets. “He’s definitely not going to show what he is really feeling in front of his family and, despite being friends with Eddie, Bobby, Hen, and I aren’t as close to him as Buck is.” Buck’s cheeks flame red. “Eddie trusts Buck more than anyone in this room and feels the most comfortable with him. Buck is Eddie’s best friend and so he’s more likely to let himself show his emotions, which is something he’s going to need to do.”

The room grows quiet and Buck’s cheeks feel hot with embarrassment. Eventually, though, Ramon drags his eyes from Chimney to Buck and then to Eddie and back to Chimney. He gives a curt nod before saying into the silence of the room, “Okay.”

No one says anything about the subject after that, everyone silently agreeing with Chimney’s statement. A nurse does eventually come in and start reducing the dose of Propofol as the group makes meager chit chat but the air is now strained with emotions and anxiousness. After a couple of hours, they all start to shuffle out of the room, the first being Chimney and then Hen, followed by Bobby. Isabel leaves next, giving her grandson a quick kiss on the forehead. Helena and Ramon are the last to leave, Helena squeezing her son’s arm gently and kissing his cheek. Ramon places a hand on Eddie’s blanket-covered foot and says something so quietly, Buck can’t make out what it is. They both then leave after that, telling Buck they’ll be waiting out in the waiting room with the rest.

Another hour goes by and Eddie still hasn’t woken. The nurses reassure him that this is normal, that they are gradually reducing the medication so it could still be hours yet before Eddie wakes up. Every once in a while, Bobby or Isabel or Helena will pop their head in and check-in to see if Eddie has woken yet. Buck has to tell them that he’ll shoot them a text message when he does, that they don’t have to wait out in the waiting room if they don’t want to (they refuse to leave even at Buck’s persistence) and to stop coming in to check.

That’s why, when Buck hears a knock on the door, he’s immediately annoyed. He turns, expecting to see one of the three but is then surprised to see Beth standing there. The protective feeling Buck gets in his chest is overwhelming. He stands, stepping in front of the bed to block her view of Eddie.

“What are you doing here?”

Beth links her hands together, shifting her weight onto one foot. “I heard Eddie was being woken up. I wanted to see for myself.”

“I’m not going to let you belittle Eddie’s survival to him,” Buck informs her. “Besides, the doctor only wants one person here when he wakes up”

She nods, looking angry. “And, of course, it’s you.”

“What’s your problem?” Buck asks, feeling annoyed. “I’ve done nothing but try and support you.”

“Support me?” She takes a step closer to him. “Is that what you call telling me to let my husband die?”

“Because he’s already gone, Beth. Eddie living isn’t going to change that,” Buck tries to reason. “That body that you keep visiting… isn’t alive anymore. The machines are keeping it viable so it doesn’t rot away but there’s nothing there. Your husband is gone, Beth.”

“No!” she snaps at him. “How is it fair that he,” she points over to Eddie, “gets to live while the rest of the people that were in that same explosion get to die? Why? Why him? Why not more of them? Why not my husband? If Eddie can survive it, why can’t Isaac?”

“Beth,” there are tears streaming down her face now, eyes blazing with anger and jealousy and unadulterated grief. “I don’t know why and it isn’t fair.” He takes a step towards her. “But I do understand. I really do. Because at some point I had to accept the fact that Eddie might not survive this either. That I might have to say goodbye to someone I love.” It’s the first time Buck has admitted his feelings towards Eddie out load and it certainly isn’t how he had pictured doing it. It’s the only way he knows how to get through to Beth, though, so he tries to not think about it too much for now. “And accepting that, that I might lose him, it felt like I was dying too. But I did it anyway because I had to.” Beth says nothing, watching Buck, so he continues. “So no, it’s not fair, but you tell me , Beth, how is it fair that Eddie now has burn scars covering his body and that he might possibly be permanently blind? How is any of this fair to any of us?” He takes another step closer. “We were all screwed over by this accident that could have been easily avoided and the anger you are directing towards me should really be directed towards the people who caused it.”

“I’m not ready,” she cries.

“No one is ever ready, Beth.” Buck reaches her, thinks about pulling her into a hug, but then decides against it. “But saying goodbye to Isaac, letting go of him, and moving on is better than holding onto a hope that is never going to come.”

Beth reaches up, wipes at her face. “I don’t know what to do without him.”

“Grieve,” Buck tells her. “And then live, not only for Isaac but for Chloe too because she needs you now more than ever.”

“I’m sorry.” Buck opens his mouth to respond when he hears a soft groan coming from Eddie’s bed. He looks over, seeing the older man stirring. Beth continues, catching Buck’s attention again. “I hope it works out between you two.” There’s another groan, causing Buck to snap his head in Eddie’s direction and when he turns back to face Beth, she’s gone.

Taking a deep breath and trying to push his feelings about that whole exchange away, Buck rushes over to Eddie’s bedside. “Eddie?” He grabs a hold of Eddie’s left hand. “Eds? Hey, it’s okay, you’re in the hospital.”

Eddie shifts, moving his head groggily. “Buck?”

*~~~*

Eddie wakes slowly, or at least, he thinks he wakes up. He can’t actually open his eyes to see where he is and he feels the panic starting to settle in. His breathing speeds up and his heart starts to pound hard in his chest but then he hears a familiar voice, a voice that could always calm him down.

“Eddie?” He feels Buck grab his left hand, hears the creak of a chair as he sits. “Eds? Hey, it’s okay, you’re in the hospital.”

“Buck?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m right here, man.” Eddie can feel the pressure of Buck’s thumb rubbing against his knuckles but it’s weird. He doesn’t feel the flesh of it. There’s something wrapped around his hand.

And he can’t feel his right hand.

Panic surges through him again. “What?” His voice sounds thick and his words sound slurred. “What happened? Why… what’s on my eyes? Why can’t I…” he has to swallow, try and breathe. “Why can’t I feel my right hand?”

“Hey,” Buck’s soothing voice comes through Eddie’s heavy breathing. “Hey, Eddie, it’s okay, calm down.” He sounds concerned which really doesn’t help Eddie’s worried state but he does manage to take a few deep breaths to relax.

He’s exhausted.

“What’s going on?” Buck is quiet and if it weren’t for the other man holding his hand, Eddie might have thought he had left. “Buck?”

“Maybe the doctor should explain it to you.” The chair scrapes across the floor. “I should actually get a nurse.”

“No!” Eddie tries to tighten his grip on Buck’s hand but then realizes that he can barely move. He feels really weak, like a boulder is sitting on his limbs. “Please don’t leave.”

The slide of the chair against the floor tells Eddie that Buck has sat back down. He can hear Buck rub his hand against his jeans. “Eddie, I really think the doctor should explain things to you.”

Eddie tilts his head to the left, where he has been hearing Buck. “I want to hear it from you.” He’s having a hard time staying awake now, the crash of his panic-induced adrenaline rush exhausting him further. “Please.”

Buck takes a deep breath before he starts talking. His hand flexes in Eddie’s. “Do you remember what happened?”

Eddie tries to focus, groans a little when he tries to move his body but can’t find the strength, and recalls fragments of memories. He remembers the blinding light, hitting his head, the searing pain that had gone through his body. “Uh…” he starts tiredly. “Ex… explosion?”

“Maybe you should get some more sleep?”

Eddie shakes his head weakly. “No. I want… Explain.”

Another heavy sigh escapes from Buck’s mouth. It ghosts over Eddie’s face, making Eddie turn towards him more. “You’re right, there was an explosion. The factory had mixtures of chlorate and magnesium chloride in it. Do you remember?” Eddie nods his head slowly. “You and the rest of the crew members you brought with you, along with the employees, were in the room when the canisters blew up.”

“The employees?” Eddie asks. “Did they…”

Buck is silent for a few seconds before he says, “They didn’t make it, Eddie.”

Eddie feels his heart plummet. “And the crew?” His voice cracks and he hates it.

Buck doesn’t answer right away, he stays quiet for a very long time but Eddie still hears him swallow thickly in the dead silence. Then, when he speaks quietly, Buck’s voice sounds broken. “They all died, too.” Eddie lets out a ragged breath, feels how his whole body shudders with emotions. He sniffles. “Um… Hammond is on life support right now but…” A breath. “He’s gone, Eddie. Beth just needs to, uh, make the decision to… take him off.”

Eddie’s crying and for the first time since he’s woken up, he’s glad there is something over his eyes so Buck can’t see the tears that are soaking it. He takes in a shaky breath and when he goes to let it out, it catches in his throat and a sob escapes instead. Buck’s hand tightens around his, another hand lands on his bicep. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” Buck says gently but his voice sounds thick, as if he’s crying too. “I’m so sorry, Eddie.”

“I… I was supposed to keep them alive,” he cries and wishes he didn’t feel so weak so he can bring a hand up to cover his face. “It was my responsibility.”

“No,” Buck sniffles, hand leaving Eddie’s bicep and then coming back down wet, as if Buck had wiped at his face. “No, Eddie, this isn’t your fault. It’s the factory owners. He’s the one who didn’t disclose what they had in there. That’s not on you.”

“Wasn’t fast enough.”

“No one could have been, Eddie,” Buck reassures. “We shouldn’t have even been in there in the first place.” He pauses and Eddie takes in a trembling breath, calming. “Bobby has been a mess over it. He feels responsible as well but as I said, Eddie, the only one to blame is the factory owner. He put everyone at risk.”

Buck’s words really don’t help Eddie feel any less guilty but he does manage to stop crying. He’s the one who brought his coworkers and those employees into that room. He’s the one who didn’t move quickly enough to get them all out. He’s the one who led them straight to their deaths.

He had told them they would be okay.

He’s the one who lied.

“How did I survive?” he asks, voice now sounding even more ruined by his crying.

“I don’t know. Some miracle, I guess.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Not religious.”

There’s movement and suddenly Eddie wishes he could see what Buck is doing. “Neither am I.”

“My right hand… is it…”

“It’s still there,” Buck tells him. “Eddie, you got really badly burned. Some second-degree burns… some third. Your right hand was pretty bad. It is one of the spots that got the third-degree burns but also nerve damage.”

Eddie knows what that means. He’s seen it plenty of times out on the field during Afganistan and as a firefighter. “So I’m never going to be able to feel with that hand again,” he states.

He hears more shifting from Buck’s side, can practically feel Buck’s nervous energy. “That’s not the worse thing that happened Eddie.”

Eddie feels a chill run through his body. He knows what Buck is going to say next. It doesn’t take a genius to guess. “My eyes?”

Buck sighs heavily and the chair creaks. “Eddie, just keep in mind they don’t know the extent of the damage yet but…” Buck stops, as if he can’t bring himself to say it.

Eddie already knows. He’s seen this in Afganistan as well. The aftermath of an explosion can be brutal, including to the eyes or to the optical nerve. If it’s not the shrapnel that damages the eyes themselves, then it’s the shockwave that damages the optical nerve. Eddie shifts, tries to sink into the bed more. The movement makes him tired. “Is it partial or complete?”

“They don’t know yet.”

“Is it permanent?”

Buck’s hand rubs against his bicep briefly. “They don’t know that either” Eddie nods, feeling a suffocating heaviness engulfing his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?” Buck asks, as if he had been expecting a different reaction from him.

Eddie shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk at all right now. He doesn’t even want to accept that this is happening. “I’m tired.”

He hears Buck stand and he lets go of Eddie’s hand with one last squeeze. “Why don’t you get some more sleep and I’ll go get a nurse.”

Footsteps sound across the floor. “Wait.” They stop. “Christopher? Where is he?”

“At school.”

Eddie nods in satisfaction, finally letting his entire body relax. “Good.”

The footsteps don’t start back up for a few seconds and then Buck’s voice calls out softly. “Get some sleep, Eddie.”

It doesn’t take him long to do just that.

———————————————————————————————————–

A/N: Don’t worry, Eddie isn’t going to always have this nonchalant attitude about his situation. He’s just tired, probably a little bit in denial, and it hasn’t really sunk in yet.

Thank you all for reading!! ❤❤

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 8 - The Revealer

Author’s Note: Here we go! An honesty akuma, which was one of things I thought of when this story could barely be considered a story. It's weird to be here, the timeline I've got planned for this story moved faster than I expected. The reference slide for the akuma can be found here!

Anyways, this is the beginning of... a lot. Buckle up buttercups, this is going to be fun!

Chapter Summary: Claude begins scheming. Ladybug and Chat Noir deal with an honesty akuma.

First | Previous | Next

Marinette’s phone dings on her desk as her friends classmates are standing to go. She crosses her room to pick it up, glancing at the screen, “Oh hey, Adrien got his phone back! He says that he wanted to let us all know that he got into Concours d'arts musicaux!” She starts tapping at the screen, probably sending a congratulatory reply, “Isn’t that great?!”

Allegra smacks her palm against her forehead, “ That’s what I forgot to tell you guys! I don’t know how I forgot. I got in too!”

“You did? That’s wonderful, Allegra!” Marinette gives the taller girl an excited hug. 

“Yay! I’m jealous you two will get to spend a bunch of time together though, don’t forget the rest of us when you guys become stars!” Claude joins in the hug, pouting slightly.

“As if you’d let me forget you.” 

“Never!”

“That’s great Al’, do you know when it is yet?” Allan gives her a hug too.

“No, but it won’t be for another few months.” 

“Congratulations, Allegra!” Felix stands off to the side giving her a smile that she probably can’t see. Claude grabs him by the shirt and pulls him into the hug.

“There is no escaping a group hug, my friend!”

Felix sighs, accepting his fate for a moment and joining their hug before pulling away and straightening himself out. The other four break apart too.

“I’m so happy for you!” Claude is shaking in excitement.

Allegra shakes her head, smiling, “Claude, it hasn’t even happened yet.”

“Still!”

Eventually they do manage to get downstairs. As they say their goodbyes, Claude holds up his hands, “Wait!”

“What is it Claude?” Felix and the rest turn back to him. Marinette pauses in closing the door, looking at him questioningly.

“I have forgotten my textbook in Marinette’s room!”

“Oh, you can come back up and get it then.” Marinette opens up the door to let him back in. He races in.

“Do ya’ w-” Allan starts to shout after him before Claude calls down.

“No need to wait for me! You may go on without me, my pals!”

Allan shrugs, “That answers that question then.” He waves, “Bye ‘Nette!” The three turn and walk back to their respective homes.

Marinette shuts the door and exhales heavily, allowing the smile to fall from her face for one of the first times that day. That is, of course, until she hears Claude bounding back downstairs. At that, she fixes the look back onto her face, turning to greet him.

“Find it okay?”

“Yep!” He holds it up triumphantly.

She opens the door for him, “That’s a relief.”

He smiles at her, “Thanks for having us over again, Mari. It’s fun.”

She shrugs it off, “It’s no big deal-”

“We really enjoy hanging out with you, ya’ know.”

If Marinette had allowed herself to imagine him saying anything of the sort before, she may have reacted differently. However, as it was, she considered such a statement completely unrealistic and her surprise showed. She’d honed her acting skills in recent weeks though, so she was able to recover quickly, “Aw, you guys are sweet. It was nice having you over, goodnight Claude.”

Claude smiled at her, giving her a quick hug - seemingly on impulse - as he skipped out the door, “Goodnight Marinette!”

She shut the door, and as she did, his smile faded. He didn’t want to worry her - thank his wonderful acting skills for allowing him to pull that off - but she sounded more than just surprised by his simple statement - which would have been concerning enough on its own. She seemed completely caught off-guard, shocked - astonished even - and though he thought he’d noticed some hopefulness, it had gotten crushed immediately. The pig-tailed girl had better acting skills than he would have given her credit for, making him think through some things he’d filed away in the back of his mind as ‘off’ about her before. By the time he arrived home, he’d come some rather concerning and alarming conclusions. Pulling out his phone, he started putting a plan together.

He wouldn’t allow this to continue.

 ---

Marinette had actually gotten a reasonable amount of sleep when she woke up the next day. She’d slept in a little, which was a nice and surprising rarity. Checking her phone, she sees Claude’s usual good morning text.

Directly above it is an akuma alert. Darn it.

A type five too, fun . It could take a while, so she decides to quickly scribble a note to her parents that she would be out today in case they came up to her room. Saturdays can be pretty busy, but type fives are pretty annoying, and she didn’t want them to worry. Better safe than sorry.

Turning to her desk, she found her Kwami, still resting,“Hey, Tikki, you up?”

“I am now. What is it, Marinette?” the little Goddess sat up, looking to her chosen.

“There’s an akuma - type 5.”

“Okay, let’s go de-evilize it!” She floated up to be at eye-level as Marinette spoke the words.

“Tikki, spots on!”

Feeling the magic wrap around her, Ladybug takes a moment to prepare herself to go against another akuma. It is her job, yes, but keeping up the act when she is in front of a few people is very different than all of Paris. Not to mention the added stress of magical monsters and probably Alya. 

She hasn’t spoken to her as Ladybug since before… that Thursday. As Marinette, not since she left.

She exhales deeply. Ladybug doesn’t have time for this, not with a type five on the loose. Shoving everything deep back down where it belongs, she hops out of the bedroom. Swinging in the direction of the akuma, she focuses on getting her mind back together. It is a little ways away, so she has time. 

Ladybug is definitely approaching the akuma now. She can see plenty of citizens out on the streets. They look pained, and a few are speaking rapidly, many are crying. Others look upset or surprised at the very least. One couple seems to be in the midst of an impromptu proposal… interesting timing?

“Ladybug! Over here!”

Ladybug lets out a genuine smile for a moment at her partner. He’s one of her favorite people, and- no focus. If you can’t even stay on task you don’t deserve your miraculous. Quit smiling you moron.

She lands beside Chat Noir, “Sorry I’m late. Last time I’ll let myself sleep in.”

“I get that feeling. You let yourself get a few extra moments of well-deserved beauty sleep and Hawkmoth slaps you across the face with a dose of evil butterfly magic.”

“Heh. You been here much longer than me? Anything on the akuma?” Joking with her friend partner was something she didn’t earn today. She’d already treated herself to a few extra moments of sleep anyways. Time to actually do your job you airhead.

“Yeah, it’s going to be risky for us. We should really try to avoid getting hit…” Chat takes a moment to survey the area, making sure the akuma isn’t going to sneak up on the duo. She gives him a quizzical look before he continues, “It’s an honesty based akuma. She’s got two abilities. She can hit her gavel, which lets out a wave - if you get hit, it’ll slow you down- all of this is from observation. Don’t worry, she hasn’t seen me yet. Anyways, what we got to really look out for is when she throws her gavel - or the other circle-thing. If someone gets hit by either of them, they spill their guts. Seriously, these people just, like, let it go. It looks like you can hold it off for a little, but it looks painful? I’m not sure. I think people’ll tell more if someone asks them a question.”

“Yeah, okay we definitely need to be careful. Our secret identities are on the line.” Stupid, he already knew that.  

Chat Noir nods, bowing, “Shall we?”

Ladybug scoffs, taking a few steps before leaping off the roof heading towards the akuma that has wandered a few blocks away. Her partner follows behind her dutifully.

Ladybug finally laid eyes on the victim. She has long hair and is dressed like Lady Justice but without the scales and sword. In place of the blindfold she has glasses. Her wrists are wrapped in thick, heavy chains, which trail behind her on the ground, ending in a ball, her ankles similarly have a weighty pair of ball and chains cuffed to them. Despite the burden, she moves quickly and purposefully, holding her arms aloft as she wanders the streets. In her hands she holds a gavel and a circular wooden sound block. Ladybug observes her for a moment longer, waiting to see her abilities in use. 

She doesn’t have to wait long, soon enough the akuma hit the gavel to the sound block several times, releasing blue crescent shaped waves that rush out towards the people closest to her. Some get out of the way in time - others not so much. They slow considerably, and one unlucky soul gets hit by two and could probably end up losing a race to a snail.

Ladybug decides she’d done enough surveillance. She quickly puts herself ahead of the akuma, but stays on the roof. She shoots out her yo-yo, and as much it would be nice to wrap-up this akuma quickly (Chat would have liked that pun), she knows better. Type fives are never quick, and never easy. So while she is aiming to have her yo-yo wrap around the woman, she mostly wants the akuma’s attention. Knowing their goals and views on their task often helps to defeat them,

The akuma notices the weapon immediately, hitting it back with her gavel. 

“Ladybug! Chat Noir! So you’ve finally decided to show up, huh? I am The Revealer, I was hurt by the truth being kept from me, so I’m going to make sure no important truths are kept from anyone! All secrets must be revealed, including yours!” She punctuates the statement by throwing each of the objects in her hands at the superpowered pair.

Ladybug steps out of the way, and Chat bats the one aimed at him away with his baton, “Thank you for the exposition, but I’m afraid some secrets are meant to stay that way. Purr -haps you could encourage good communication instead?”

“No! Lies will persist without my intervention.”

“I can agree with you there - no one like a liar.” Ladybug really sympathizes with this woman, she knows firsthand the pain lies can bring about, “But forcing people to tell the truth in this way could hurt more people than it will help.”

“If they lied,” the akuma bangs her gavel a few times, before throwing it and the block again - summoning new ones to replace them, “then they deserve any pain this brings about!”

The gavel hits a man walking with one of his friends. He immediately collapses - much to the concern of the friend. They drop to his side, and evidently hear many surprising and upsetting things. They pull out their phone, dialing a number before speaking rapidly both to the person on the other end and to the man when he snaps out of it. Grabbing their friend’s wrist, the pair hurry away.

Many similar scenes are playing out all over - Ladybug can hear the yelling of a woman who was cheated on and crying from various others. The akuma is blind to the hurt around her and continues throwing things. 

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!” The Revealer has focused back on the heroes, “Paris demands to know the identity of the so-called heroes protecting them. How can we trust those that we know nothing about?!”

Dodging the projectiles, Ladybug calls back, “It is for our own safety that our identities are secret. We get the job done, that’s all you need to know.” She hooks her yo-yo above her, swinging to get behind the akuma.

“Even we don’t know each other’s identities.”  Chat chimes in as he ducks beneath the gavel aimed at his forehead. “ Purr -tty sure that how superhero-ing works.”

The gavel keeps flying and hits someone standing nearby, “Babe! You good?”

Ladybug freezes - only her momentum keeps her moving - she knows that voice, even if she hasn’t heard in weeks. Nino .

Nino. Which means… if he’s talking to someone here - at an akuma attack - someone he called ‘babe’ then that could only mean…

She recovers, turning her head to the voice, and seeing him, and on the ground near him is Alya. She’s clutching at her chest and speaking rapidly. The heroine hears ‘Ladyblog’, ‘not good enough’, and ‘jealous of my best friend’, but can’t make out much more. The last statement throws her for a loop. Jealous of her best friend? She hasn’t seen Marinette in weeks, what is there to be jea-

Oh. 

Lila. 

Nevermind, she gets it now.

Stupid girl. Why would anyone be jealous of you ? You’re just some fool playing superhero until they find someone better. You’re not anyone’s best friend because no one would want to spend time - Wait hadn’t Claude said-

A crescent wave goes right past her face, snapping her out of her thoughts. Turning to Nino and (the now-recovered) Alya she says, “Get out of here. It’s dangerous.”

Alya is holding her phone, still recording, “Girl, I’m fine, I already got hit anyways and this isn’t live so nothing important can get out.” she looks to Ladybug, winking, “Unless you need some back-up?” She and Nino turn to her, smiling eagerly.

Ladybug stiffens slightly, though the pair don’t notice. Someone else does though, “She’s right. You two need to get out of here.” Chat blocks another gavel with his baton as he lands near them. Ladybug recovers, nodding in agreement before swinging back into the battle.

“Finally see sense? Have you decided to let Paris see your truths?”

“Sorry ma’am, but Chat and I have good reasons for the lies we tell.” Do you though? Not all your lies are about your Ladybug identity. Sometimes you just lie because you want to, sounds like someone else you know… 

“I doubt that! You don’t feel the weight of your lies on your chest! You need me to show you just how wrong you are! Without me, how are you going to know all that you’ve done wrong? How will you make things better?! For that you need the truth!”

Ladybug scoffs quietly, muttering under her breath, “Ha! Joke’s on you lady, I already know that I’ve messed up big time! There is no righting my wrongs - truth won’t help me.” She’s quiet, and distracted with blocking more attacks. She misses how her partner’s fake ears twitch before he shoots a confused and concerned glance her way.

The Revealer hits her gavel several times, spinning in a circle and sending the glowing crescents everywhere. Ladybug returns to the rooftops and Chat Noir isn’t far behind. Seeing the heroes are out of her range, the victim moves on to reach more areas.

“Uh, Ladybug, you good?” “What?” Ladybug hears concern in his voice and her stress sky-rockets, what did she do?

“I just, uh, thought I heard you say something…? I thought maybe I should check on you…” He cocks his head, green eyes looking at her patiently.

You know the rules. You’ve memorized the rules. The rules are there for good reason and you can’t even follow them correctly.

She’s memorized the rules, and she knows them by heart and could recite them top to bottom, left to right, and she knows the last one well. It’s one of the more important ones, with them now numbered it’s #11.

  Rule #11: Adrien, Claude, Allegra, Allan, and Felix have been nice enough to put up with you, don’t make them regret it.

 It’s since been edited to include her partner, because unlike those she originally mentioned, he doesn’t even have a choice. His obligation to Paris requires him to put up with her idiocy on a near daily basis.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid you brainless numbskull. You’ve broken one of the rules, he’s worried about you now. For absolutely no reason. Fix this - now.

“Oh no, I’m fine kitty.” She puts on her most convincing smile, and pumps her voice with false sweetness and happiness that she doesn’t feel, “I think I just needed some more rest, that’s all!”

He keeps looking at her,”Are you sure? If something’s wrong…?”

“No, nothing’s wrong! I just need to be sure to get proper rest today, that’s all!”

He smiles at her weakly, “Alright, if you say so…”

“Mhm! Now, lets go get that akuma!”

“Right!”

The duo swings toward the direction they last saw the akuma head in. Ladybug’s thoughts trail behind her as she goes.

Stupid stupid stupid stupidstupidstupidstupidfailure…

--- 

It was just past noon, and they’d been at this for well over three hours and had gone through several Lucky Charms. Nothing seemed to be working, and it was hard to concentrate on setting up a trap for her when she was set on hitting them over the head with a gavel, or playing a painful game of frisbee with the sounding blocks, not to mention all the close calls with being slowed by a neon crescent wave.

“Maybe we should take a lunch break…” Chat has his hand on his knees, breathing heavily. They’re both tired, and have lost the akuma again.

Ladybug is about to protest - they need to do their job - but looking at her partner, doubled over and clearly overworked, she realizes he certainly deserves a break. He’s worked hard today, not to mention that she’d worried him earlier.

“Yeah, maybe we should. You certainly deserve one - be sure to eat something. Maybe check in with some people so they don’t wonder where you’ve been all day.”

“Bug, you deserve one too. We both have been at this all day. Besides, you must be tired out from being so radiant all day long.” He winks at her.

She huffs, folding her arms and turning away so he doesn’t see her blush. She is blushing from the compliment thank-you-very-much. She certainly doesn’t have any sort of crush on her partner. That would be unprofessional. She has a crush on Adrien and only Adrien . Not Chat Noir too - nope, no way.

“Farewell, my lady, enjoy your break!” Chat waves goodbye as he leaps away.

“Same to you, mon minou!” Ladybug heads in another direction, swinging from roof to roof until she lands on a familiar balcony.

“Tikki, spots off!” The Kwami in question shoots out of her earrings. Tikki waves tiredly at her as she floats down to presumably rest somewhere inside. She certainly deserves it - Marinette spent most of today transformed, with only a few very short breaks.

The tired and overworked girl flops onto her bed as soon as she’s inside. She wants to sleep, but her body refuses to shut down. Maybe it’s because she hasn’t eaten at all today. She’s fairly certain there’s leftovers in the fridge if she wanted them, but stairs seem like so much effort after hours of rooftop parkour. Her leg muscles are done with movement for now.

Her phone dings. Checking the screen she realizes that her friends have been messaging quite a bit while she was out, and there’s several messages asking about her. That’s right, she never responded to the good morning text from Claude - they’re probably worried now, good going.

  Kid Mime: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Good morning my stars!!! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

  Felix: Good morning, Claude.

  Melodie: It’s too early to be up do you wake up early just to send a text?

Melodie: I know you’re not a morning person how do you do it?

  Kid Mime: i’ll never tell

Kid Mime: my secrets shall remain that way for all of eternity

Kid Mime: i’m taking them to the grave

  The Mom Friend: youd better not be heading there any time soon

  Kid Mime: i dont plan on it

Kid Mime: whats this??!! Kid Mime: Allan isnt the last one up!

Kid Mime: this is almost unheard of!

  The Mom Friend: im not?

  Kid Mime: nope, Maris been quiet so far

  The Mom Friend: huh

  Felix: Perhaps she is sleeping in. She likely needs the rest.

  The Mom Friend: that she does

  Kid Mime: also unheard of! Today is a day of surprises!

  Melodie: Marinette honey I hope we don’t wake you up.

  Felix: I am fairly certain that we won’t. She may just have her phone off, or maybe it isn’t near her bed.

  Kid Mime: maybe shes talking with adrien. I still wnat his number especialy now he has phone back

  Melodie: How did he lose it again?

  Kid Mime: i dunno

  Felix: If I recall correctly, he did not perform as well as expected on a photoshoot, so his father decided to remove distractions, I believe he was pulled out of school for some time as well.

  The Mom Friend: translation his dad sucks

  Kid Mime: translatin allan is totally going to kidnap adiren

  The Mom Friend: no I won’t

The Mom Friend: … not yet at least

  Melodie: I’m in

  Felix: You are all terrible influences on each other.

  Kid Mime: u loooooveeee us!!!! :))

  Felix: …

Felix: … 

Felix: I do.

  Kid Mime: YAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!!

The Mom Friend: awww

  Melodie: You’re all adorable.

  Kid Mime: u no who els is adorable????

  The Mom Friend: marinette!

  Kid Mime: ding ding ding!

Kid Mime: where is are favorite fabulous fashionista??? Kid Mime: i miss herrrrrrrrr

Kid Mime: :(((((

Kid Mime D:

  Felix: You just saw her yesterday.

  Kid Mime: but i stil miss her

  Melodie: Oh got to go for a moment.

Melodie: I’ll be back eventually

  The Mom Friend: careful theres a akuma out

  Melodie: I will!

  The Mom Friend: you better

  Kid Mime: maybe she’s been kidnapped!!! Kid Mime: we must find her

  The Mom Friend: im sure shes good

The Mom Friend: jus getting wel deserved rest

  Head Searcher: the hunt is on!!!

Head Searcher: she wil be found!!!

  The Mom Friend: fe’ i can hear u sighing from across paris

  Felix: Indeed.

Felix: Claude, it is very unlikely she has been kidnapped.

Felix: I agree with Allan’s guess.

  Also Head Searcher: wat’s that Felix?

  Felix: Nevermind.

  Head Searcher: never fear! our cool, cute, and creative companion will be saved fromthe clutches of evil

  Also Head Searcher: nice job with the alliteration

Also Head Searcher: ur on a roll today

  Head Searcher: thx

  Felix: The worst part is that I am unsure whether  Allegra would be another voice of reason or if she would join in on your nonsense.

  Melodie: What?

Melodie: Oh, hmmmm…

  Head Searcher: do it do it do it!!!!

 Marinette smiles as she finishes reading the texts she missed. She hates to have worried them, but they seem to think she just slept in so they’re fine. Deciding that she shouldn’t leave them hanging any longer, she hops into the fray.

  Patisserie Princess: hi!

Patisserie Princess: im ok guys!

  Melodie: Hi!!

  Felix: As I said.

Felix: Good afternoon, Marinette:

  Kid Mime: YAYYYY!!!!

Kid Mime: (つ・▽・)つ⊂(・▽・⊂)

Kid Mime: (つ≧▽≦)つ⊂(・ヮ・⊂)

  The Mom Friend: u get some rest mari?

The Mom Friend: its past noon

  Patisserie Princess: nah, i didnt sleep in much

Patisserie Princess: just lost my phone

 Lies. They deserve better than that, they deserve someone who can be honest.

  Kid Mime: u should sleep some! U deserve it!

  Patisserie Princess: thx, but i’ve got to go again

  Kid Mime: noooooooooooooooo

  The Mom Friend: take care of urself

  Melodie: Yes, please do. Have fun with whatever you’re up to.

  Felix: Farewell, Marinette.

  Kid Mime: buh-bye!

  Patisserie Princess: ( ･ω･)ﾉ

 Marinette sighs, putting her phone down. Her smile fades eventually as she just stares at the ceiling for a while, thinking of nothing in particular.

After some time she exhales sharply and sits up. Sticking her head over the side of her bed she says, “Tikki, are you up? I think it’s about time we get back to that akuma!”

“Really? That was quick… alright Marinette, let’s go!”

“Tikki, spots on!”

 ---

 Adrien is halfway done with his lunch when his monitor dings. He’s been eating at his computer, keeping tabs on the akuma. Plagg is sitting on the desk, munching on some camembert.

Clicking on the link, he sees that above the footage added this morning, Alya has added a quick clip to the front of the Ladyblog, “What’s up Ladybloggers? Alya here! After what was presumably a break for the heroine, Ladybug is back!” The camera turns around, showing a red and black spotted girl leaping across the rooftops. Alya continues with the commentary as she follows, “One question that remains on most everyone’s mind is where is the back-up lately? I know I for one would love to see Rena Rouge or Carapace out in the thick of it! Anyways, due to the nature of this akuma, I will not be filming this live. Alya out!”

Adrien closes the tab, turning to Plagg, so had been watching with him, “Plagg, I’ve got to go! Ladybug is out there again, she needs me!”

“Sheesh kid, does your partner have any chill?” “This is serious Plagg!”

“So is your health! The two of you have been at this all day and have only been on break for an hour! You haven’t even finished your food!”

“But Plagg-”

“No. Adrien, you need to at least finish eating before you head back out there. And don’t just stuff your mouth, you’re going to be moving a lot. Can’t be much help if you make yourself sick.”

At Adrien’s doubtful look the cat continues, “Besides, you two have very different personalities. Cats are lazier, and rest more. Bugs are constantly buzzing around, you two are there to balance each-other out. Too much of either mindset would be bad.” he stuffs some camembert into his mouth, swallowing before he adds - almost as an afterthought, “Never leave a Bug and a Bee together on a project - they’ll work themselves to death.”

Adrien sighs, Plagg is right - he won’t be much use if he rushes out now. His Lady must just eat quickly, “Fine. But I’m only staying here another half-hour; 45 minutes tops!”

He resumes eating, albeit at a slightly faster pace.

“Fine by me, kitten.”

 --- 

Despite the break, it’s been another six hours and the akuma is still around. People are starting to get upset, I know, I know, I need to do my job better - be better, please stop yelling at me.

Chat seems to be similarly over tired, having coming awfully close to snapping at a few people. She really needs to step up her game.

They’ve finally tracked down the akuma again, and they drop in front of her, ready to finally end this. 

“Ladybug, Chat Noir, ready to admit defeat?”

“Nope.” Chat’s tone is clipped - he dropped the puns and bantering some hours ago.

“That’s a shame, it would make this so much easier!” More hits of the gavel before she tosses the items out of her hands again. It’s a formula they’re well-adjusted to by now and they dodge the projectiles tiredly. Ladybug swings behind The Revealer to be opposite Chat. When it looks like she’s distracted by the feline hero, Ladybug shoots her yo-yo out, aiming to restrain her arms to keep more projectiles from being thrown.

The spotted weapon has almost reached its mark when the akuma turns suddenly, holding her gavel out where the yo-yo is headed. The string makes contact and loops around several times.

The woman grins, letting it go.

If it had been earlier in the fight, or if Chat had been closer, or even if Ladybug had eaten or gotten more rest, maybe things would have been different, but as it was, when the yo-yo wrapped gavel came flying back at her, Ladybug’s reflexes are too slow to do much good. 

The wooden mallet makes contact and Ladybug is down.

---

Author’s Note: Should the attack have lasted this long? Probably not. Did I want to make them suffer through an all-day akuma attack? You bet! 

Foreshadowing? It was unintentional, but it's there.

A quick note on the music competition - I don't think I ever really explained it. Basically middle-school musicians tried out, and the winners get to practice regularly together to perform a concert in the spring. The concert will be hosted at a local school, but which one will it be? Hmm...

Once again,  the reference slide for The Revealer can be found here! I'm tempted to post early in honor of Halloween? Or a bonus chapter maybe? Mostly because it feels weird writing so far ahead of what I've posted. That said, I really have to keep myself on a more reasonable schedule when it comes to updating this. Eh, we'll see.

Thanks for reading, and constructive criticism is welcomed in the comments below!

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[your-anxious-nightmare]

Song of the Savior

I had this idea, but I can’t write for shiz at the moment so have a bullet point fic that’ll make you cry. It gets better, I promise, only because I don’t wanna leave my babies in pain.

Virgil and Remy are married

Virgil is a singer, kinda famous but only in America. Remy is a Barista at a cat cafe run by his college friend. 

They were best friends since middle school, and during their first year of college, Remy is diagnosed with cancer. 

They both drop out a month later.

They got married at 22 (Remy) and 24 (Virgil) because Remy doesn’t want to spend his life without Virgil and he’s living what he has to the fullest

Virgil’s manager, Patton, is kind and doesn’t make him do anything without Remy coming along

He knows it’s tough for both boys and holds his own husband, Logan, just that little bit tighter every night. 

They go bungy jumping and have s*x in a restaurant bathroom and eat caviar. 

Remy gets worse, the treatment isn’t working.

Virgil refuses to let Remy say ‘when’, only ‘if’. Neither really wants to admit that it’ll happen.

Virgil writes him a song and performs it on a talk show, ending in tears and falling asleep in his lover's arms in the dressing room. 

Patton announces Virgil’s hiatus when Remy is given four months. 

They stay home most days, Remy’s too sick to go out much, and watch movies and eat popcorn. 

It’s only a month later when his lungs decide they don't wanna work good no more. 

They’re at the cafe, having lunch when it happens. Remy starts gasping for air and Virgil shouts for someone to call an ambulance as he holds his husband and tries to help, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Remy is admitted indefinitely and put on oxygen tubes. They speak funny and feel like he needs to sneeze but Virgil still thinks he’s cute.

A week later, Virgil’s singing to his husband when he holds up a hand. 

“Virge...I want you...to promise me... something” He’s out of breath and tired but he manages okay. 

“Anything, my love.” 

“When I go...”

“Don’t-”

“When I go...You gotta keep...living, okay?... You gotta live...like it’s your last day...Don’t let the...darkness win okay?... You can’t...give up because...I’m gone... Live because I can’t.”

“I will Remy. I promise.” 

“I love you... Always and Forever.” 

“Always and Forever Remy.” 

That night, they’re holding hands when Remy closes his eyes. Virgil feels his hand tighten before he goes, and the loud beep fills teh room. 

Tears stream like there’s no tomorrow and Virgil sits there until the Nurses make him leave. 

He locks himself in the spare room when he goes home, he can’t even look at teh bedroom he used to share. 

Patton has to get Logan to break down the apartment door a week later because he hasn’t heard from the younger man and he’s terrified of what could’ve happened.

The find him curled up on teh floor outside his bedroom, tear stains on his cheeks and half a PB&J sandwich next to him

He hasn’t eaten much, the sandwich was probably the third thing in the whole week, and he couldn’t stomach much of it. 

Patton covers him in a blanket and tidies up teh house as Logan makes some pasta. 

Virgil wakes up to Patton smiling weakly and bursts into tears again. 

His sobs still haunt Patton’s dreams. 

With Logan and Patton’s help, Virgil gets back on his feet, and two months later he writes his first song in ten months. 

Patton cries when he hears it, but they record it nonetheless and release it as a single. The cover is a picture of Remy, one where he’s sitting in the window, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee and head lazily rested against the glass. 

No one knows who it’s about, Virgil wasn’t openly out about his relationship, they knew he was dating someone (all his songs had some mention of a man), but he never takes off his wedding ring any more. 

Two years later, Virgil finally cleans his apartment. Remy’s things are packed away, he can’t bear to get rid of them so they’re in a storage locker nearby. 

He keeps his husband’s leather jacket and all the picture of them on their wedding day. He wears the jacket every time he performs and the picture sits on his bedside table. 

He may seem like he’s coping, but most nights he finds himself at the bar on the corner. His go-to drink is vodka (Remy's favourite) and stumbles home at ungodly hours to an empty house and an even emptier heart. 

It’s mostly the same people there each night and they know not to bother him in teh corner. 

One night, a newcomer arrives. 

He sits at the bar and talks to the bartenders and makes himself at home

He comes around every few nights and dances and makes out with random drunk patrons

He’s with a really tall guy when he notices the sad man sat in the corner alone. 

He asks around but get’s the same answer.

“Who’s the guy over there? Why’s he alone?”

“Just leave him be, he’s been through a lot.” 

So he takes it upon himself to make him smile. 

The first time he sits across the booth he gets a glare scarier than his Abuela’s and runs off not two seconds later. 

The next day he buys the man a drink and sits across from him for ten minutes in silence before leaving. 

This goes on for a few weeks. 

The man will enter the bar, get a drink, talk to random folks, dance a little, buy two vodka whatevers and sit with teh sad man for ten minutes before he goes home again. 

One day, the sad man looks up and utters a word as he goes to leave. 

It’; his name

The man smiles and says his own, Roman (obvi, who else) before leaving

Vigil disappears for two weeks and ROman feels empty as he sees the vacant booth. 

When he arrives again, he looks happier and already has a second drink in front of him and one across the table when Roman wanders over

They start talking and find out they both sing, Roman is actually a fan of some of Virgil’s songs

Virgil tells Patton and Logan about the man at the bar and they encourage him to ask him out.

He’s a little hesitant, feeling like he’s betraying Remy, but one night he has a dream where Remy tells him he wants him to be happy, so the next time he see’s Roman he asks him out. 

Roman looks at the man’s hand and says he doesn't want to be a piece on the side, getting rather agitated and storming out

Virgil realises he still has his ring on and runs after him, catching him outside trying to hail a cab

He tries to explain but Roman won’t listen so he asks if he’s heard his song ‘Ghosted’

Roman shakes his head and asks why he’s asking

Virgil just hands him his phone and headphones, telling him just give him a chance and listen to it

Roman sighs but does as asked, crossing his arms angrily as the song starts

Half way through, tears start to fall and Roman gets super sad

When the song finishes, he hands back the phone, fingers trailing over the older man’s ring

“I know what that’s like, so I won’t say ‘I’m sorry’“

“Did you lose someone too?” 

Roman reaches for the chain around his neck, a promise ring with an engraving of a bird hanging from it loosely

“My boyfriend, Emile. About five years ago, a drunk driver hit our car. We both survived, but he had a brain bleed that was too slow and small to pick up. He had a fit one day at home and passed away in the ambulance.”

“Guess we’re both broken.” 

Roman asks if Virgil wants to stay at his place that night, neither wants to be alone

They become closer, and eventually, Virgil asks if he wants to be his boyfriend

He writes him a song and sings it too him on the roof of the apartment block one night

“I know I’m a mess, Remy was my everything. But I feel the same things I did for him when I look at you. I can’t be Emile, you can’t be Remy, but we can be the missing piece in each other’s hearts. Only if you’ll let me.”

“Of course.”

Patton helps Virgil announce he’s taken and his songs get less depressing again

He still wears his wedding ring and Roman still wears the promise ring

The fans question it but they just shrug it off

When Virgil proposes, he does it on stage in Paris, with the whole crowd holding up pink love heart cards. 

They get married in Roman’s backyard, with Logan and Patton and a few close friends and family members

The night after their honeymoon, Virgil goes out and visits Remy’s grave (he’s done this on the anniversary of their marraige, both their birthdays and his death). 

He thanks him for everything, and cries a little. He admits he still misses him, even though it’s now been eight years. 

He say’s that he and Roman are going to adopt twin boys soon, when the paperwork is aproved, and they’re planning on naming them Remy and Emile. 

Before he leaves, he takes off the old wedding band, he’d still worn it when he got married, wanting Remy there to see him happy

He presses a kiss to it before placing it in a ring box and burying it just beneath the dirt to the left of the headstone

Roman and Virgil get the boys and raise them well

Emile is a happy, bouncy boy and Remy is as sassy as his namesake

They’re happy together

The end.

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead

Summary: Steve goes back. Some things are the same. Some are different.

AO3 link here.

The problem with deciding not to come back from returning the stones is that he has no one to consult about what exactly that means. Bucky, the only one who knows, the only one who guessed, has no expertise in quantum physics or advice about what exactly he’ll be doing to the timeline.

“You’re taking all the stupid with you,” he’d said, and part of what he meant was this: going off half-cocked as always, Rogers. Seat of your goddamn pants. He isn’t wrong about that part. For a strategist, Steve spends a lot of his time winging it.

(He tries not to miss Sam. He misses Sam.)

Even once he’s taken the leap, used the Pym particles to land himself so far back that he’ll only make it to the twenty-first century again by living through until then, he doesn’t precisely know what to do about it all. He spends a week alone, and then another. He does odd jobs to make money for food and a room to sleep in. He’s forgotten how different something like finding work had been, in the days before resumes and networking and the necessary google of someone’s name and background. People look at his eyes and assume he’s a vet, they look at his arms and assume that he can lift and carry things; they’re right on both counts, and that’s enough.

He already took the chance, just coming back here, but he worries about what he might do to Peggy’s future - her amazing, groundbreaking future - if he tries to slip back into her life. But he is also so tired, so encompassingly tired. He has helped to hold the world up for what feels a lifetime: Atlas with arms exhausted and shaking. He imagines how sweet it will feel to rest with her beside him. He knows he has to try.

(He must have known it all along. He brought himself to Washington D.C. in 1949. Peggy’s lived here for just over two years.)

He knows her address. He can remember the exact pattern of the heart monitor, the precise places where she laughed as she told him about the K Street apartment that had first been rented for her.

“Ghastly place,” she had said, smiling even as she did. “Everything dark wood, with barely a window for a bit of sunlight. And practically on top of scandal: I couldn’t go out my front door without thinking of Teapot Dome! So I had the housing stipend rerouted to a lovely little place on 11th Street and things worked out rather nicely. I didn’t feel quite so miserable about coming home, and there was a grocery and a café right across the street.”

He waits for her in the café, tucked in the back. Peggy comes in promptly at seven in the morning. She speaks to the woman behind the counter, a young black woman with a wide, sweet smile, and carries a cup of tea over while her breakfast is being prepared in the kitchen. She sits down at one of the tables entirely automatically, picking up a newspaper and not even looking as she slides into the booth seat facing toward the door. Her regular spot, then.

(Nat always said he made a terrible spy, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be observant.)

He means to come sit on the seat opposite from her. He pictures it minutely, down to the way the vinyl will rub and give as he slides across, but he finds that he cannot picture how she will look at him, what she will say. In the moment, he freezes. He ends up looming awkwardly over her for long enough that she looks up at him, a polite smile on her face as if she expects to be handed a plate of bacon and eggs, or perhaps to need to turn down a request for a date.

But then she takes in what she’s seeing.

She breathes in a sob. Her teacup is already sitting on the tabletop, but she sets down her folded paper as carefully as if it were made of porcelain too.

“Steve?” He feels the echo of the fragile word through decades. He thought he knew, when he saw her for the first time barely able to lift her head from her hospital bed, when he found the photograph that she kept so boldly on her SHIELD desk twenty-five years after he'd been gone, that they would be like this in any time. Apparently he didn’t truly know until he hears it. He is shaking.

She stands abruptly, pushing herself out of the booth and catching his hands in hers. She is so very close to him.

“Am I going to have to murder Howard for keeping secrets?” she asks quietly. He shakes his head. She traces over the skin of his forehead, no longer as smooth as it had been. She runs fingers through the front curve of his hair, strange to her, with such perfect delicacy that he almost flinches away.

“No,” she agrees quietly, and takes her handbag from the table. “Come with me. I have to set a terrible example for my employees.”

Later, after Peggy calls in pretending to be sick to a Howard simultaneously suspicious (when was the last time Peggy was ill?) and totally heedless, probably already thinking of what kinds of explosions he’s going to be taking on today, she makes them fresh tea. He can tell that it’s just a distraction. The kettle is whistling for nearly a minute before she breaks their gaze and goes to pour the water.

When they are across from each other at her small kitchen table, she says, “Tell me,” and he does, a bit.

When he has finished his brief sketch of things, she takes a sip of tea. “So, the future,” she says, her voice musing rather than judging.

“You seem to be taking this pretty well,” he tells her.

“Yes, well, I’m not entirely sure that this is real, you see,” she explains.

He looks out her nice little window for a moment; when he leaves, he’ll have no memory of the kind of view she has. “If I’d showed up and said that I’d been dug out of the ice and came to find you, would you have believed it more?”

“Perhaps,” she admits. She looks into his eyes, though, and adds quietly, “But perhaps not.”

“I understand. Even where I’ve been, time travel is a pretty new development.” He pushes back from the table, carefully so as not to rattle Peggy’s pretty blue-edged china. He looks down at her, and she looks back, a bit of tilting evaluation in her eyes. “The Dodgers are going to lose the Series to the Yankees, four games to one. It’ll all be over Sunday night. The score of the last game will be ten to six.”

She swallows. “Then I suppose I shall see you Monday morning?” Her hands, with their neatly manicured nails, rest solidly on the table in front of her. Her knuckles are pressed tightly together.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” he says, nodding slightly to her, and sees himself out.

She is already waiting when he enters the café on Monday morning. The only clue to how she’s feeling is the way her head pops quickly up whenever the door swings open.

“I’m sorry about your Dodgers,” she says as he sits down across from her.

He shakes his head. “The Yanks will do even worse to the Phillies next year,” he says, and she covers her mouth with a trembling hand.

When she speaks again, it is aching. “Let’s go home,” she says.

“Don’t you have work?”

“I planned ahead this time. As far as anyone knows, I’m scheduled to be out of the office in meetings all day.” She examines him again. He understands the urge; he thinks at this point he could describe where each of her curls lies against her shoulders, and if he couldn’t, he’ll just need to take her in a while longer.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Of course I am.” Humor, just the most hidden hint of tears. “It seems that you’re still a bit hopeless, I see, even after all this time.”

(Tony would have said the same thing. Tony.)

“Probably.” He gets to his feet, offers her his hand. She takes it, lightly, more formality than anything else, and stands beside him. “I’ll work on it.”

“I’m sure you will.” She leads him out again, toward her apartment. “And I’ll certainly be happy to assist.”

They settle into something. It’s so easy that Steve catches his breath from it sometimes, exultation with a bold edge of fear. She goes to work, and he stays in their neighborhood. He does the shopping at the corner market and learns, after a fashion and several borrowed library books, how to cook. He does the laundry, and learns the hard way which of Peggy's suits need special care. He walks around getting to know the area.

He overhears two of Peggy’s neighbors whispering about him as he helps a little boy fix his bike chain on the street corner.

“I always thought she must have a man somewhere,” one says to the other.

“Well, he’s lucky she took him back. She’s been here two years, nice, polite girl with a good job and that wonderful smile, and he turns up now? Where has he been?”

“I’m not much sure it matters, looking at him.”

Steve tucks his head and grins.

He stops by the newsstand for a paper enough times that the owner, an older guy named Al, eventually asks if he’d like to do a bit of work. Steve knows it’s mostly pity, but he’s restless. He takes Al up on it, working pasted together hours so Al can take breaks during the day and get home a bit earlier in the evenings. He hangs around and chats other times. They talk baseball (Al’s a Chicago transplant, a heart and soul Cubs fan) and world events and dabble a bit into politics (Steve has to read the papers closely to try to keep his stories straight). Al had a son who never came home from Guadalcanal, and maybe that’s why, when he sees Steve sketching between customers, he asks him to fix up the sign above the stand, just a little refresh on the paint and maybe a nice little drawing.

Steve guesses that he does a good enough job, because the owner of the cafe and the drugstore ask for him to come over to their places, to do bigger murals inside. He starts to get asked to do all sorts of things, from house painting to pretty watercolor cards. He’s still home in time to make supper and talk to Peggy every evening.

He knows, now, that Peggy has a thick quilted dressing gown that looks like something a grandmother would wear, and doesn’t make him feel like a grandmother’s wearing it at all. He knows how she takes her tea and that she likes a square or two of chocolate at the end of the day. He knows how it feels for her to rest her feet in his lap as they read on lazy Saturday afternoons, and what it’s like to walk arm in arm back home talking about the film they’ve seen on a Sunday. He knows the giddiness of automatically calling her “sweetheart” as he asks her to pass the salt. He knows what she looks like when she first gets up, and the careful, precise order in which she applies her makeup and styles her hair. He knows what it’s like to kiss her on waking and as she leaves for work, as she arrives back home and before they go to bed. He knows what it is to fall asleep beside her, smiling.

He wakes himself up, shuddering, at least three times a week. Sometimes he is gasping. Sometimes he is crying. Most times he wakes Peggy too.

Early one Saturday morning, she switches on the light as he tries to calm himself. She rubs his arm for a moment before standing from the bed and putting on her dressing gown. He can hear the sound of her preparing tea in the kitchen, but when she doesn’t come back, he follows her.

“Sit,” she tells him, gesturing to the chair across from her at the table, and when he does, “Drink,” her voice firm and compassionate. He listens to her, taking a sip and then staring into the depths of his cup. She’s put in just the right amount of sugar.

After a moment, she says, “I haven’t asked you very much about where you’ve come from, but I think we both know how untenable that is. You need to talk. I’d like to hear it.”

He takes another sip, then a third. Finally, he hoarsely, “I don’t know if I can tell you. I’ve already changed your life just by coming here. I don’t know how much I can do without ruining things.”

“Steve.” She leans across the table, touches his arm, his face. Her disheveled hair falls forward a little, framing the warmth of her eyes. “You are the best man I have ever known, and perhaps the strongest. And I don’t think you need to go through this alone. Let me help you.”

He almost laughs. How many times did he say something like that to people grieving a disaster that won’t happen for decades? How many times did he ignore his own advice? He thinks, again, of Sam. “Some stuff you leave there, other stuff you bring back. It's our job to figure out how to carry it.”

He thinks that Sam also meant that sometimes you find someone to carry it with you.

They don’t get out of their pajamas until well into the afternoon. Once Steve starts talking, he finds that he can’t stop. He tells her about Hydra (“Get up with bloody fleas, I told them”) and about Bucky. He tells her about Korea and McCarthy and Vietnam and the civil rights movement, about Betty Friedan and President Kennedy and President Nixon, about AIDS and global warming. He was in the twenty-first century for over a decade. He reads fast and doesn’t sleep much, and his memory is excellent.

He tells her about the snap. He tells her about his friends.

Finally, with darkness outside their windows, he says to her, “I keep thinking about Maya Lin. She’ll be an architect and a designer. She becomes famous for making the memorial for the war in Vietnam. I know it’s right to do what we can to avoid that war, to minimize that damage. Making that choice could be wrong for Maya Lin. It will change her life. How do we know which strings we can pull without letting everything fall apart?”

Peggy looks down at the notes she has started taking. She flips over one page, then another. “Well, we shall think and strategize and try our best to do the best for the most people.” She taps a finger on one paragraph. “I think that this is one string we should start tying up as quickly as we can.”

"If I see a situation pointed south, I can't ignore it," he told Tony once, and that was true. It still is. It's just harder when south isn't a clear direction on the compass, when trying to fix things could only make things worse. This is why Steve could tell her, why he had to. Because he believes in her mind, in her ruthlessness and her clearheadedness, but in her goodness too. He doesn't think he could have done any of this alone.

(He must have known he would do this all along. He brought himself to Washington D.C. in 1949. Zola was brought here just over two months ago.)

They tell Howard. Partly because they need him, to provide documentation for Steve, for resources, for cover. Partly because Peggy says that he’s a friend and he’s trustworthy, and Steve trusts Peggy. For his own part, though, Steve needs to work to remember how much hasn’t happened with Howard. He hasn’t become who he’ll become yet.

Steve sleeps better knowing that they’re doing something. He doesn’t sleep well until they have Bucky back.

“Any idea what he’ll be like after rise and shine?” asks Howard, checking once again the pulse of the man lying unconscious on one of his many guest beds. To everyone else, Bucky’s hair is long, unkempt. For Steve, it’s shorter than he’s used to now. The arm, high tech for this time, looks especially ugly and primitive.

Steve thinks back to all the information they gained after the fall of the Triskelion. Nazi records have always been blessed and cursed. “He hasn’t been under for too long. It won’t be pretty at first, but we’ll be able to get him back.”

In bed that night, Peggy holds his hand beneath the blanket and whispers, “Hopefully we’ll get him back back without you trying to sacrifice yourself,” and he doesn’t know whether she’s talking about Azzano or the helicarrier, and he likes that she has the option for either.

They count on the minimization of Hydra’s influence to help stabilize things, and they’ll prove to be right. Peggy also cultivates herself a reputation for sound, nearly prescient, advice to other agencies. It will help them influence things they need to in the future, but it’s already believable, based on a solid foundation. No one suspects the man who’s occasionally seen on her arm at functions or visiting her office - bearded, older, bearing only a passing resemblance to the lost Captain America - of having anything to do with it. He barely talks shop with the guys, usually ends up recommending recipes to the wives.

“I do prefer you in an apron and pearls,” Peggy says as Steve rubs her feet after one such night out, her heels discarded beneath the kitchen table.

“It’s the natural order of things,” Steve tells her solemnly.

“Too right, pal,” Bucky calls from the bathroom. (He heard from Al at the newsstand that they were having trouble with their sink and came over to help rather than let Steve take care of it. “Flood the whole place, more like.”)

Neither of them quite knows who proposed to whom. Steve claims he did it, Peggy attests with equal vehemence that she took the initiative. Neither of them much cares when it comes down to it.

They invite the Commandos to the wedding. Or, rather, Peggy invites them, and then when they all show up with faltering, incomplete smiles, Steve comes over to say hello.

“If it was anyone else but the two of you, I don’t know that I could believe it,” Monty says, dazed.

Dugan wants horse racing tips. Morita wants to know if he ever makes it with Ava Gardner. “Already tried asking that one, pal,” says Howard sourly.

“Sometimes you just have to live it,” says Steve, and goes to take another turn on the floor with his wife.

They move to Jersey in ‘52. Steve’s afraid that Bucky’s going to have an aneurysm over the betrayal, but the commute’s easier on Peggy now that SHIELD’s working out of Camp Lehigh most of the time.

(Buck ends up living in Brooklyn near his folks and goes back to school to get his engineering degree. Howard says he doesn’t care, he knew how much schooling Bucky had when he offered him the job, but Bucky wants to earn it, and he likes to learn.)

Somehow, it takes three days to pack up the apartment in DC and three weeks to unpack in their cozy little house in New Jersey. Peggy’s pulling late nights all the time as she gets things put together, but she refuses to let Steve do much during the day: they both have extremely strong opinions about every little thing, and she wants to be there to decide which cupboard the glasses will go in, or how far the sofa will be placed from the window and how far the armchair from the sofa.

They finally get things sorted one Saturday when it’s nearly autumn. They leave the door open to let in the air, still warm with just the beginnings of a chill. Peggy stands with her hands on her hips in the middle of their living room. Steve watches from the doorway, loving the way the light filters over her hair, loving the way he already knows exactly how it will.

He steps into the room with her, selects a record and sets the needle carefully. He holds out a hand to her.

They’re practiced at this now. They’ve been to the Stork Club and danced at their wedding and done a thousand other things in between. Peggy jokes that Steve only breaks her foot once a month now, twice if she’s very lucky. But there’s no showing off today. He holds her in his arms and they sway, turning in slow circles, the music washing over them as they stand in their new home.

“The war's over, Steve. We can go home. Imagine it,” she had once said to him in a vision that had taken his breath, a vision that might never exist.

He doesn’t have to imagine it anymore.