#or at least i currently think it is i haven’t reached the more complicated sentence structures yet

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

>trying the dutch duolingo because i heard dutch is easier than german and i want to see if that’s true >skip ahead a section bc i’m bored with de vrouw de man de kinderen and so on >asked for the dutch word for water >start to guess wasser because knowing german has gotten me this far >remember that the netherlands didn’t go through the high german consonant shift >type “water” >correct >i’m a language genius (i am not a language genius i still don’t know the correct german word order at least 50% of the time)

[another-snape-story]

Merry Christmas

Chapter XXI

The days that followed were tough. You happened to visit The Department of Magical Law Enforcement every once in a week – although you were beyond suspicion, they always had new questions.

“They call me again.” The words that made Snape’s heart sink each time they were spoken. Once annoyed, the other time despaired – “They call me again,” you announced over and over again. Of course, this couldn’t pass by unnoticed without affecting your emotional state which kept worsening after every new attendance.

Snape felt you were getting estranged – from him, from the world around. It was unbearable seeing vigorous glint of your eyes gradually die out. Knowing your passion for nature walks, he used to take you outside whenever possible. Snowy landscapes along with fresh air worked wonders, and you were back again – distressed, tired, but still alive.

Support Severus gave you was huge, substantial, able to bring you to tears, which in your current condition was easy as pie. Immensely grateful for his regard, you felt like giving him the whole world in return. The more time you spent together, the stronger grew your sentiment for the man, until you realized you could no longer imagine your days without him. Relieved in the solace his presence offered, you wished you could nestle under his protective wing, shielded from all the horrors of cruel reality, and doze off in a long deep peaceful slumber.

You hated the moment Snape left you at your door late in the evening, afraid to stay alone with your thoughts or just selfishly unwilling to let him go – sometimes you seemed to forget he wasn’t your possession and had other things to take care of apart from you. The man’s become an indispensable part of your life, a vital part of you, which, if taken, would cause a fatal outcome. Little did you know you’ve become the such for him as well.

Looking you in the eyes as he put you on train, Snape struggled with desire to cup your face and make that one last step towards the edge to let you know his heart was beating for you and you only, to assure you were not alone, that you could count on him whatever happened. However, being a man of a rational mind, he admitted he was no good match for you – with heavy burden of his past and a vague chance for future – what could he give you? Moreover, he wasn’t hoping you’d accept him. How pathetic thinking you would!

Snape felt uneasy letting you go to London alone. Having grown exceedingly protective of you he couldn’t find any peace until you returned, safe and unharmed. During hours of your absence, Snape questioned himself what if the court found you were involved by implication? What if you decided not to prolong your contract with Hogwarts and left the school once the term was over? What would his life be like without you?.. Intrusive thoughts that scratched in the back of his mind aggravated all of his unpleasant traits, and students got to suffer Snape’s ill temper more severely than usual every time you were away.

“It’s over,” wearied, emotionally drained, you informed Severus when he met you at the station in Hogsmeade as he’s done since the process started.

“You told everything like we’ve agreed?” anxiety bubbling inside his chest, Snape intently examined your face to detect the slightest change in your expression trying to foresee the probable answer before you could utter a word.

The question reminded you about the dispute you had before your departure. You nodded weakly. Although you’ve chosen to follow Snape’s advice, you still were uncertain if you did the right thing.

“Good,” he approved calmly as befitted his usual composure, while a sudden yet so much anticipated relief made him feel dizzy. No one would take you from him, now he knew it for sure.

“He’s been sentenced to ten years,” your voice bleak and lifeless. “I should’ve told the truth. Should’ve told them it was all my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Snape stepped closer, his hands reaching out for you.

“It’s unfair. That’s not what I intended.”

“Listen. It’s just the consequence of negligence,” he softly rubbed your shoulders. “Nothing more.”

“I know,” you sighed bitterly. “I know… But… I didn’t mean to ruin his life. Didn’t mean to…” you fell silent fighting back tears.

“He’d end up in prison anyway,” Snape stated with contempt, wishing the man who brought you so much trouble be damned. Snape realized you’d need time to finally get over all this and move on – and he was there to help you. “Let’s go back.” He led you along the platform covered with a thick layer of trampled snow dotted by hundreds of footprints.

“Have the students left already?” you asked indifferently just to switch the trail of thought.

“Yes. This morning.”

A ghost of a smile swept across your lips. “How was the feast?” sad notes in the tone of your voice revealed utter disappointment over a missed opportunity to attend one of the main school events.

“No trolls, no three-headed dogs,” he spoke apathetically. “Boring, in other words.” Snape could’ve probably been other opinion if you kept him company.

“Huh, I thought all the celebrations here had an element of surprise,” you sniggered recalling the night of Halloween. The night of Halloween! Quirrell… You knew Severus wouldn’t appreciate what you were going to tell him, but keeping it in secret after the risk taken would make no sense either way. Preparing for being told off, you listened to the snow creaking serenely under your feet.

“I saw Quirrell again,” you confided at last as you turned around the corner heading towards the carriage harnessed by a pair of Thestrals.

“And again you followed him?” Snape frowned disapprovingly, just as you would expect.

“Yes, but this t…”

“How many times have I told you not to mess with him?” he resented.

“And how many times have I mentioned I were not a child?”

“Leave him to me! Being ‘not a child’ isn’t enough!”

“Aren’t you even curious what I’ve seen?!” you huffed in disbelief. He’s never taken it so bad before.

“No! I’m not curious at all!” Snape raised his voice. “Merlin! He might be dangerous! Is it too complicated for your stubborn head to grasp the simple fact?”

“You speak this way to your students, not me!” you spat back. That was way too much. Who did he think he was?!

“I will speak to you the way you deserve unless you listen to me!” he hissed angrily.

“Oh is that what I deserve? Really?! After a month of interrogations with testifying at the trial on top of this SHIT-CAKE? Is that what I deserve?!” you burst out. “I listened to you and didn’t tell them it was me who purposely changed the data! And now I’ll have to LIVE with it!” yet you were shouting.

“At least you’ll live!” Snape growled in frustration. He shouldn’t have spoken to you this way. Living in constant fear for your fate, holding back all the doubts that ate on him while he played confidence assuring you everything was going to be all right, but actually having no idea how the things might’ve turned out was a real torture – no wonder, he still resembled a bare nerve when it came to the matter of your safety. Always composed and collected, this time Snape failed to restrain his emotions.

Although he regretted it immediately, it was too late for remorse. Exasperated, pissed with his tone, you rushed past the carriage. “I’ll walk!”  

Trying to stop you, Snape grabbed your elbow. You spun around, shooting him a vicious look which shattered Snape’s puny hope you would accept his apology. “Get in,” he said calmly. “I will walk.”

“FINE.” You abruptly freed yourself from his grip and climbed inside.

The carriage set off.

You laid your head on the backrest, tears streaming down your cheeks. This scene was easy to be avoided, but, as ill luck would have it, everything came together at the breaking point. Of course, he was worrying about you. No one ever had. Yet he did. He placed your interests over his own. How many days, how many nights he has spent comforting you! Fixated on your problems, you’ve never taken into consideration when he has managed to keep up with his work… after spending hours and hours and hours with you… Anger struggling with an expanding feeling of guilt and gratitude tore your soul apart.

But his tone! You crossed your arms on your chest, still doubting whether to forgive him. His tone hurt!

The window hole offered a wonderful performance of trees and bushes garmented into gentle niveous covering slowly dancing along the road. As much as you loved winter, the other day you’d hardly be able to take your eyes off this fairy picture, but now it seemed to just dishearten you. You turned away – the vacant seat beside you gaped with pervasive emptiness – same that you felt inside. Severus used to take it, right next to you. Once, you’ve even fallen asleep on his shoulder… A memory brought a dolorous smile to your face. You missed him. You missed him so bad. What just happened wasn’t right. It should’ve been different. Moreover, on a day like this.  

You gave a sign for the carriage to stop and stormed out – you haven’t gone too far – he’d catch up with you soon. Wading through the snow, you hurried back to reunite with the man so dear to your heart as soon as possible. In his black coat he should be an easy target to spot, but Snape was nowhere to be seen. Frozen to the bone, you found yourself standing on the place where you left him. Despaired, you looked around – not a single soul.

“Severus!” you called him desperately, a lump in your throat growing thicker as you tried to hold it in. “Sev…” Everything’s gone so wrong.

Lost the last bit of hope – despondent and wretched – you sobbed into the void, scoffing grievously at yourself, “Merry Christmas…” Perhaps, you deserved it indeed.

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[justkeeptrekkin]

A gift to all my followers!

This is something I whacked out a couple of weeks ago- just a thank you to all my followers who’ve stuck around, or who have just found me within the Good Omens fandom! It means the world to see you guys enjoy my fics. This is my gift to you guys, now that 2019 is coming to a close!

Enjoy! x

***

It’s hard to keep track of time when they're together on a good day. It’s even harder on the best of days. 

The Ritz is busy. The lunch table is inappropriately large for just the two of them. They’re sat right next to each other. Champagne is bitter-sweet on Crowley’s tongue and he could watch Aziraphale for hours, listen to him talking for hours. He measures the way Aziraphale leans towards him with a hand stretched across the table, sharing a story. Eyes bright, typically taut posture unusually relaxed. Entire aura relaxed. The feeling in his own chest, relaxed.

And so it’s harder than usual to keep track of the time. People leave after tea; people arrive for dinner; people leave after dinner. The waiters stare at them from the kitchen doors, waiting for them to ask for the bill, which they don’t. Crowley barely has it in him to glare at them. 

Their knees touch for almost the entire time. 

For Crowley and Aziraphale, time has only ever been a construct. However, it has also, always, been bound by celestial responsibilities. Now, they have no such responsibilities. And they are no longer being watched. 

The sky is darkening just a little when they finally leave. Green Park remains busy at-

Crowley checks the time on his phone.

-Greek Park remains busy at five thirty on a Tuesday night. People line up at the bus stop, heading home from work. Tourist stands filled with union jacks litter the streets outside the park. The colonnade of The Ritz shelters them from a light bit of drizzle. 

Crowley slides his hands into his negligible pockets and considers what comes next. Dining at The Ritz has always comes with a time limit, and somewhere to go immediately afterwards. Some sort of agenda. He doesn’t know what that is now. 

He looks over at Aziraphale, who hovers. Hovers and fiddles with his hands. Gaze flitting about as if he’s nervous, smile flickering on and off as if he doesn’t want Crowley to notice. He makes a feeble attempt at smiling again and gestures to the rain with a small nod. “Lovely weather we’re having, eh?” he says. It’s followed by a shaky half-laugh. 

Crowley frowns at him, the bottom half of his face forming a smile. He feels as if he’s watching the Angel of the Eastern gate, introducing himself at Eden. And something about the sudden awkwardness fills him with intrigue- more than that, anticipation. 

He leans back against a column, hands in pockets, and surveys Aziraphale’s anxious flapping.

“Well, go on, then,” Crowley prompts. “Something’s on your mind.”

“Not on my mind, per se,” Aziraphale concedes. His eyes darting up to the roof of the colonnade, to Heaven- a habit that may take some time to kick. “An idea of sorts.” “You’ve intrigued me,” Crowley drawls. 

“Nothing exciting. Only.” 

The look Aziraphale gives him in the brief moment of hesitation is heart-breaking. It’s filled with hope, and a healthy dollop of apprehension, too. As if Crowley would ever deny him anything. Crowley has experienced these moments of heart-shattering, heart-squashing, heart-pummelling love many times before, and he very much hopes that he’s done an alright job of concealing it from his expression.

He raises his eyebrows at Aziraphale and waits. 

Aziraphale sighs, looking uncomfortable and apparently having no intention of expanding. He expects Crowley to make the move. Unsurprising.

“I could…” Crowley starts. Aziraphale looks at him in hope again. Christ on a bike I’m a pushover, he thinks. “I could. Invite you round to mine for a drink. If… you were thus inclined.” A great beaming smile. “Oh, you took the words right out of my mouth.” Crowley huffs an almost-laugh. They look at each other. And they both let the weight of that sink in. Slowly, like the rain that’s currently seeping into the stone pavement beyond the Ritz’s colonnade. 

“Right,” he announces quickly, before thoughts can escalate any further. “Off we go, then?”

“Yes, just so. Tip top.”

Crowley conjures an umbrella. It’s not as if anyone would have noticed, he tells himself, though he sees the doorman at the Ritz recoil a little in shock. They share its shelter until Aziraphale miraculously hails a cab. 

***

“Best idea you’ve had all week, angel- and that includes the body swapping nonsense.”

Aziraphale is sat on Crowley’s sofa. He has been handed a glass of wine. He holds it between cupped hands like he plans to take communion. His legs are hidden behind a tartan blanket. (Crowley will never admit that he conjured such a thing long, long ago, just in case something like this might happen. Something like Aziraphale staying for a movie night, or even, staying for the night. It had always seemed so unlikely. In fact, the moment he’d created said blanket, Crowley had been so infuriated by his blind hope of ‘having Aziraphale round’ that he’d burned it. 

He’d restored the ashes to its original, tartaned form just a couple of hours later.)

“It seemed like the next logical thing,” Aziraphale explains pensively, brows raised and peering down into his Malbec. “If I had a ‘to do’ list, this is what I would put on it. I haven’t sat down and watched a movie all the way through in such a long time.” This may well be true, Crowley considers, as he rifles through his DVD collection, knees against polished concrete and painted nails tapping the spine of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, he’s simply marvelling at the fact that they’ve never sat down and watched a movie all the way through together, the two of them, ever. They’d always had more important things to be getting on with, like saving the world or performing miracles or negotiating the terms of their Agreement. And now. Now they can-

Now they can what?

He looks back over his shoulder at Aziraphale. Aziraphale is looking at him. The angel’s gaze flicks away instantly, staring back down into his wine. It hurts something in his chest. A nice kind of hurt, like a dash too much wasabi. 

Crowley takes a moment to recover from this. Then- “You. You still haven’t given me any clues. What you in the mood for, angel?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widen for the briefest moment as if he’s alarmed by this question, for whatever reason. Then he frowns to himself, purses his lips in thought. Casts his eyes around the room, for inspiration. “Something…” “If you say nice,” Crowley warns, knees hurting a little on the hard floor. 

“I wasn’t going to,” Aziraphale retorts. He pauses. He adds, more quietly, “I was going to say fun.”

Crowley groans. Turns to the DVD cabinet.

“I don’t do fun,” he says slowly, emphatically. 

“Alright, well. Something at least a bit light-hearted. I think saving the world rather calls for it, don’t you?” Crowley tilts his head from side to side in consideration. “It’s a fair point,” he concedes to himself more than Aziraphale. Pouts. “Don’t want to bring the mood down. Not sure I’d want to…”

The reason he doesn’t finish his sentence is because he’s just been, unfortunately, reacquainted with the more mushy end of his DVD collection. He’d forgotten that he has several Audrey Heburn films, as well as a couple of Julia Roberts classics. He glares at them. Hidden amongst the arthouse silent movies, they’re betraying just how soft he is. And Aziraphale’s watching.

The DVD boxes quiver under his stare. 

“How about we start with discussing what you have,” Aziraphale tries, reasonably. “Since we can’t reach a consensus. We don’t even have to watch a DVD if you don’t want-”

“Netflix,” Crowley remembers, standing up abruptly and immediately closing the cabinet. Then, “Netflix! That’s a thing. That’s a thing that we can do.” “Oh yes- I’ve heard of that,” Aziraphale says chirpily. 

“Oh, yes, well done, angel.”

Aziraphale glares. 

And so the Netflix loading screen bongs into life, Crowley collapsing onto the sofa beside Aziraphale. The red wine is jostled; Aziraphale tuts. Crowley props his heels on the coffee table. 

“Do you mind. I almost spilled Malbec on my shirt.” “Lots more choices now,” Crowley ignores him and begins flicking through. “Look, it’s all organised nicely in rows of genre. Love how tidy this is, look. And the search function is so much easier. Have you tried the search function on Amazon Prime, lately? Nightmare.” “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Aziraphale replies lightly, spinning the wine in his glass like a whirlpool.

“Look, ‘s’got a whole section called ‘light-hearted movies’.” 

“Very helpful.”

They flick through the row. They go through all of them without choosing, and end up at the beginning of the loop again. Crowley growls and hangs his head off the back of the sofa.

“Oh, pass it here,” Aziraphale sighs, putting down his wine with a decisive clink and picking up the remote. He holds it with one hand and presses the directional buttons with his other hand, as if it’s far more complicated and delicate a process than it actually is. Like an octogenarian trying to use an iPhone.  

“How about this lovely looking Christmas film.“

"N- no. Anything but that. It’s October. And more importantly, no.”

“It looks ever so sweet, though. How lovely and romantic-”

“We are not watching The Christmas fucking-well Prince.”

He’d had a hand in inspiring that, and he’s too embarrassed to admit it even to himself. His evil deeds really are shit. 

“No need to snap,” Aziraphale mutters.  

“If you’re determined to watch something romantic and seasonal, I will accept The Holiday. If I must. Jack Black makes it bearable.”

Aziraphale lets the screen rest on the thumbnail of the movie. Then, quite thoughtfully, he says: “I like Kate Winslet. She seems like a nice woman.”

“Mm. Yeah, that’s. OK. I’m sure she is, angel.”

In all honesty, the idea of watching a rom-com with Aziraphale is border-line torture. It’s not quite as bad as waterboarding, but it’s close. More on the same level as those nightmares you get where you have to do a maths exam in your underwear, on stage, and all of your exes and crushes point and laugh at you. Not only are rom-coms pretty hit and miss- some influenced by Heaven, some by Hell, you never know what you’re going to get- they’re also a fantastic way of making Crowley feel incredibly exposed. Incredibly hot in the face from second-hand embarrassment. Incredibly aware that he’s meant to be sneering and heckling, when he’s just trying to concentrate on holding himself together. Stop the feelings from spurting out of his heart like water in a dam: feelings that he thinks are, embarrassingly, rather a lot like longing.

And yet, because it is Crowley, and this is what Crowley does, he lets Aziraphale select the movie and they watch The Holiday. They remark on the general cheesiness, the (at times) witty dialogue. The staggering amount of disbelief that has to be suspended for the plot to work. How nice Jude Law looks in glasses. 

Crowley’s only sort of watching. He’s concentrating on Aziraphale. Not outright staring at him (although he does often do that, it’s a wonder he hasn’t noticed and told Crowley to sod off). Rather, letting his brain tick over the knowledge that he is right beside him. Too much of his daft, devil mind is unable to ignore the fact that Aziraphale is there. 

Sometimes, it sends unhelpful thoughts his way. Like, you could touch his hand. Or, imagine feeding him popcorn- wouldn’t that be interesting. Or simply, there he is. He’s here. He’s with you. He’s chosen this. 

About half-way through the film, Aziraphale starts with those sad sighing sounds, making woebegone eyes at the television- which tells Crowley that he’s getting peckish but doesn’t want to bother Crowley with it. So, Crowley casually announces that he’s heard there’s a good new Chinese restaurant around the corner, and Aziraphale brightens up again immediately. And they have to pause the film to choose what to eat, because Crowley reckons he might actually order something for himself this time, and Aziraphale ums and ahs about these things for hours anyway. And once they’ve ordered- over the app, thank God for avoiding human interaction- the food arrives, quite miraculously, three minutes later. 

And once the food is gone, the film is almost finished. And Netflix seems to have decided what they should watch next, because it puts on the first episode of The Crown without asking them. Which they watch, although Crowley’s not really watching. And Aziraphale is complaining about the inaccuracies. 

And at some point they end up sitting very close.

No. That makes it sound as if Crowley has no idea how they ended up that close. He knows exactly when this happened, because he hasn’t taken a breath since. 

It happened like this.

They’re halfway through the first episode of The Crown, and Aziraphale has returned from the kitchen with a new bottle of red- a Pinot, this time- and he pours for both him and Crowley. Aziraphale has been sat on his own side of the sofa, and Crowley has been on his, draping his arms and legs wherever he sees fit. Now, as Aziraphale resettles on the sofa, he sits right beside him. The way Crowley is angled, his legs dangling off the arm of the sofa, means that he’s leaning in Aziraphale’s direction. Very obviously. 

So he’s using all his (very little) core strength to keep himself sitting upright enough not to fall into his lap. Even if it would be very nice to let his head rest on Aziraphale’s lap. And even if he’d really like to relax a little bit and lean his shoulder against Aziraphale’s. 

And for Heaven’s sake, it shouldn’t be an issue for a couple of six thousand year old beings to sit side-by-side on a sofa, and yet, here’s Crowley, having a crisis about it. It’s not as if he thought twice about pinning him against a wall. 

Although he probably should have. That was a lot.

His eyes follow the way Aziraphale’s legs stretch in front of him, crossed over at the ankles. A little slouched on the sofa, shoes off. It’s about as relaxed as Crowley’s ever seen him. 

“Why do you think they decided to make this TV series now, when the Queen is still alive,” Aziraphale remarks. It almost makes Crowley jump a little, so deep in thought that he’d forgotten time hadn’t stopped entirely.

“Whassat?” “Well, why do you think they’ve made the series now? It seems a bit-”

“Right,” Crowley says brain finally processing the question. “No- dunno, angel.” They both go quiet. Crowley’s hand grips the back of the sofa. The fear that he’s going to slip and lean against Aziraphale is too real. As nice as it would be-

Perfect. Miraculous. Wonderfully human. 

-It would also be mortifying. 

He can hear Aziraphale’s breathing. Slow. Precise and even, like he’s measuring out ingredients for a recipe. It makes Crowley’s mouth go dry with painful self-awareness.

“Do you remember,” Aziraphale starts quietly, “when you and I bumped into each other in Camden Town?” He takes a few seconds to pretend to think about this. “Yeah, ‘f course. Nineteen seventy-seven. What made you think of that?” Aziraphale shifts a little, looking at Crowley. Crowley doesn’t look back, watches the screen. If he turns towards Aziraphale, they’ll be-

“You were wearing that awful t-shirt.” That makes him laugh. A tipping-the-head-back laugh. “Oh yeah- my God Save the Queen t-shirt. Sex Pistols. Yeah, those were the days. Don’t knock ‘em, they were a good band.” “I’m sure they were.” “Don’t use that voice, they were. Anarchic music at its finest.” “I believe you, but bebop is still a little too baffling for me, I’m afraid.”

Crowley doesn’t expect it. He doesn’t know where it comes from- he thought he knew himself quite well at this point, but apparently not well enough. He feels something take over from out of nowhere. Rather, feels something erase everything else- a whiteboard rubber cleaning all the bullshit away. 

And now he’s turned to Aziraphale without the babbling voice of anxiety in his head. 

“It’s punk music, not bebop. And. I reckon you’d like it.” His voice is a murmur and his eyes are looking at Aziraphale’s lips. Thank Christ for sunglasses. 

When he looks back up and meets Aziraphale’s gaze, he’s watching Crowley. Looking for something. 

He feels his lips part, hears himself take a breath through his mouth. 

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale asks weakly. A small quirk in one eyebrow. 

“Y-” Fucking Hell. His throat’s all dry and he’s forgotten what words are. And now Aziraphale is definitely looking at his mouth. Fuck fuck fuck fu- “Yeah. You’re a rebel now, after all. Sort of. Breaking all those rules.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replies in a whisper. Then, regaining his voice, “I suppose that’s true.”

“S- uh- mm- w- some of the songs, anyway, not all of them. You’d uh- h- some of them are a bit explicit than others and you’d probably not. Not get on with those ones.”

“Crowley…?” That’s all it takes. Thousands of years of keeping his feelings to himself and taking it slow, and all it takes is that little inflection in Aziraphale’s hushed voice. That hesitant request, draped over the sound of his name. Crowley leans in and presses his lips gently against Aziraphale’s. 

There’s that horrible moment when it stops, and everything else seems to stop, too. The what next? hangs in the air and Aziraphale stutters a shaky breath against Crowley’s skin. 

“Too fast?” is what Crowley ends up asking. Just to break the pause. 

And then the most dazzling, drunken smile spreads across Aziraphale’s face. Brows knit together. An expression that looks a lot like “To the world.” 

“No,” he half laughs, shaking his head infinitesimally. “For once, no. We… we saved the world, I rather think we deserve this.”

Something in Crowley relaxes, unhinges, collapses. It lets all the feelings free and they flood him till he swears he almost goes blind. And that is how they both end up falling asleep on the sofa, still wearing the days’ clothes and kicking off a tartaned blanket. Wrapped up in each other- starting this new era as they mean to continue.

***

Crowley wakes up and finds his head on Aziraphale’s chest. He’s splayed on top of him, arm hanging off the edge of the sofa. He feels Aziraphale’s hand, warm between his shoulder blades. 

“What would you like to do today?” Aziraphale asks with a smile in his voice. 

That is how it starts. They think of the things they were too scared to do together, the things that they never found the time to do together, the things they always liked to do together. 

They go for a walk through Hampstead Heath, just as the weather’s beginning to turn- their breathes steaming in front of their faces as they walk. They haven’t been here since 1815. They both try to avoid the muddy parts and fail spectacularly. They make fun of each other for the mess they’ve made of their shoes. They begin by hooking their fingers together, until they’re brave enough to hold hands completely. 

They go home and cook together. It goes disastrously. 

“What are we doing today?” Crowley asks the next morning, when they wake up on Crowley’s sofa again. 

They go to some hipster bar in East London- Tobacco Docks, it’s called. They find that there’s good food, lots of good booze and an ice rink- which Crowley absolutely point-blank refuses to go on until Aziraphale makes that wide-eyed, pleading face. They have a tipsy and very clumsy skate around the rink before returning to their drinks. Crowley’s better at wine than ice rinks. 

“What are we doing today?” Aziraphale asks, when they’ve woken up in Crowley’s bed. His white hair against his white sheets. A new part of the landscape of his room.

They end up doing very little. They read together on the sofa and make tea.  Crowley introduces Aziraphale to the best music ever created- disco, of course. They dance in the living room in bare feet and laugh till they can’t see through the tears. 

“What are we doing today?” Crowley asks the next morning. 

“What are we doing today?” Aziraphale asks the next. 

They’ve saved the world, and that still seems surreal. But there’s waking up on Crowley’s sofa after a movie marathon, too. A dinner date, or a night in. 

And that feels perfectly real. 

[thewalkingdeadimaginings]

When I Found You

Can I have a Tara x fem reader where the reader and her family are a new group Alexandrian's meet and Tara starts to fall for her ? X

 Hey guys! I know I’ve been away, not updating anything for the last year. I guess I haven’t felt too much motivation with everything that’s been going on this past year. And my mental health has gone up and down a lot lately. I’ve…developed anxiety? Which is a weird feeling. But on a more positive note, I turned 26 on March 4th so that’s exciting. Anyways, I thought with my return, I’d try something new. I currently have two work-in-progress one shots that I’ve been stuck on so I’m setting them aside for now. I hope you enjoy this.

 Note: Y/M/N = Your mom’s name // Y/D/N = Your dad’s name

 Also, just know that hate will NOT be tolerated and any negative comments will be deleted and you’ll be blocked. If you’re anti-LGBTQ+, I don’t know what you’re doing here anyway following a bisexual writer so…just so ya know…keep all nasty comments to yourself.

             Was it bad to fall in love so easily? Tara always found herself in trouble because of that so she’d always felt it was. She’d had her heart broken so many times, lost so many that maybe it was best for her to be alone. At least for a little while. She’d made peace with it by now, keeping herself busy by going on more runs, taking more shifts at the gate, and any other small tasks that needed to be done.

             “Hey, I’m here to relieve you,” Rosita declared as she climbed up to the top of the fence to stand beside Tara, “Maybe now you can go relax. I’m tired just watching you. Are you okay?”

             “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Tara replied, “Just…trying to keep busy, ya know? No big deal.”

             “I get it,” Rosita said, “I just think you should maybe slow down a little bit. You don’t wanna overwork yourself. No one would hold it against you.”

             Before Tara could argue further, she was interrupted by Michonne, who was emerging from the woods and making her presence known so Eugene could open up the gate. She had a small group with her, though Tara couldn’t make out the details on who they were. But it appeared to be an older couple and a young woman with them. Tara, completely ignoring her friend’s advice, climbed down to meet Michonne.

             “What’s going on?” Tara inquired as Michonne stepped through the gate, “New people?”

             Michonne nodded, “This is Y/N and these are her parents, Y/M/N and Y/D/N. Y/N was fighting off walkers practically on her own. They needed proper shelter here.”

             Tara turned to meet your gaze and her words caught in her throat at first. Seeing how beautiful you were even slightly hidden under blood stains was almost overwhelming at first. But she had to stop herself. No, she remembered it was a bad thing to fall so easily. You hadn’t even spoken to her yet. She couldn’t get caught up in a pretty face.

             “All on your own?” Tara finally managed, “Impressive. You must be exhausted.”

             “Anything for my mom and dad,” you replied with a small chuckle. You stuffed your hands in your pants pockets and let out a heavy sigh, “But yeah, I’m pretty tired. We’re lucky that Michonne found us. I don’t know how much longer we would’ve made it out there. I’m pretty impressed myself actually. Never thought I’d see…I dunno…civilization again.”

             “Neither did I,” Tara said, “But there’s plenty of other communities just like us. World’s getting a little bigger these days.”

             You nodded in agreement as your parents walked off with Michonne. You pointed at the three of them as you started to follow, “I should get going, get cleaned up and sleep for once. What’d you say your name was?”

             “I didn’t, it’s Tara,” she replied.

             You grinned as you gave Tara a playful salute, “Well, I’ll see you around, Tara.”

 * * *

             The next few days, Tara tried her best to keep things light with you because the more time you spent together, the harder it would soon become to suppress any feelings. But you were certainly not making it easy with the way you smiled at her, the way you touched her arm while you spoke. Sometimes, she just wasn’t able to avoid you as the two of you had guard duty together. You were quiet for a while which was a relief for Tara but she also couldn’t stand the silence between the two of you.

             “So…” Tara said, finally breaking the silence. She felt your eyes on her but she wouldn’t turn to face you, “You never told me where you were from before all this.”

             “I was from Connecticut,” you said, “I was living with my boyfriend at the time. We got separated in the very beginning and I haven’t seen him since. I have no idea if he’s alive.”

             Tara’s heart sank at the mention of a boyfriend. It was probably better this way anyway. Tara couldn’t risk your life just because she caught feelings too quickly. She sighed and gave you a small nod, “I’m sorry to hear that. I just lost my girlfriend. I won’t get into details but…it’s been hard.”

             “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss,” you replied, “It doesn’t get easier even when all you know is death now, ya know?”

             Tara nodded in agreement, “Yeah. It makes me…hesitant to let anyone in again. Denise…she wasn’t the first girlfriend I lost. It just…feels like maybe I’m meant to be alone.”

             “Oh Tara,” you mumbled. You placed your hand on her shoulder and lightly squeezed, running your hand back and forth across her upper back. Your touch made her shiver but she tried her best to hide it, “Tara, no one’s meant to be alone. Humans are social creatures. We need other people. I think the world has shown us that lately. We can’t make it alone.”

             “I guess I can’t argue with that,” Tara said, leaning slightly into your arms, “It’s just scary, ya know?”

             “I know,” you said, “You’ll get through this. It looks like you have a great family here. And you can always talk to me too. As long as you don’t keep avoiding me like you have been.”

             “Y/N, I haven’t been avoiding you,” Tara replied nervously, “I’ve just been…busy.”

             “Look, I’m not stupid,” you said sternly, “I’m not sure what I did but I hope one day, you can feel comfortable enough to talk to me.”

             “It’s nothing you did,” Tara said, “It’s…it’s complicated.”

             “No, I get it,” you said, “You just said you’re afraid to let people in again. But I can promise you that I’m not going anywhere. I’ve survived things that should’ve killed me but I’m still here. You don’t have to be afraid of losing me.”

             Tara stared at you for a long time, her eyes drifting down to your mouth, your tongue darting across your lips. You smiled warmly at her, reaching up to hold her face in your hands, “We’re gonna be fine, right?”

             “Yeah,” Tara said in a whisper. Her body moved involuntarily and she acted before she could even think it, leaning in to kiss your lips. You surprised her by welcoming her kiss, your hands moving to the back of her neck. It felt like such a relief to kiss you, to feel her touch, like she was starving for it. The relief didn’t last long though. As her head began to clear, she started thinking about what she’d just done and she quickly pulled away from you, “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to…I…”

             “Hey,” you said softly after a moment of stunned silence, “It’s okay, Tara. I’m not upset I actually-”

             Tara scrambled down the ladder, “I have to go. I’ll send someone to relieve me. But I’ve gotta go.”

             “Tara, wait!” you called out after her. You wanted to run after her but you couldn’t leave the fence without someone watching it so all you could do was watch Tara walk off in a huff, “Tara! Fuck.”

 * * *

             After asking Rosita to take over with guard duty for the rest of her shift, Tara stayed hidden in her house for the rest of the afternoon. Rosita had asked what happened but Tara couldn’t bring herself to explain it. She forced a kiss on a girl who obviously wasn’t interested in women. Everything about that was wrong and she couldn’t stand to face you for that.

             Hours had passed with Tara lying on her couch staring at the ceiling when there was a knock on her door, “Tara, open up. It’s me, Y/N. I know you’re home.”

             “Y/N, I don’t feel like talking,” Tara groaned. The door swung open and you stood at the doorway, pointing at Tara with a grimace on your face. Tara sat up, eyes wide in shock, “Y/N! What the hell?”

             “I’m not leaving until we talk about this,” you snapped as you slammed the door behind you. Approaching the couch, you jabbed Tara in the shoulder, “Now, why would you avoid me, then kiss me, then run away from me? You know you’re giving me whiplash!”

             “You know why I’ve been avoiding you?” Tara grumbled, “Because I like you, okay?! But you’re not into women and then I kissed you anyway even though I knew that. How are you not upset?”

             “Maybe you should’ve let me finish my sentence earlier before you ran off,” you snarled, “Because I was going to say that I wasn’t upset. I actually liked it. I liked kissing you.”

             “But you’re-”

             “I said I had a boyfriend, I never said I was straight,” you interjected, “I had a girlfriend until about a month or so ago. And I was like you! I thought I’d never find another person that I could feel that way for ever again. And then I walked through those gates and saw you and everything changed for me. You know how hard it was on me being avoided by you? I had to switch things around just to end up on guard duty with you.”

             “Wow,” Tara sighed, “I had no idea.”

             “Because you weren’t letting yourself,” you said. You let out a sigh and you flopped down on the couch by Tara’s feet, patting her legs, “I’m sorry for the rant, Tara. I’ve just never met anyone so frustrating and stubborn. But I really liked that kiss.”

             “Yeah?” Tara said, tucking her legs under her body and scooting closer to you. You moved with her until there were only inches separating you, “Well, I’m sorry for cutting it short then.”

             You tucked her dark hair behind her ear, biting your bottom lip, “We could always pick it up where we left off.”

             Before Tara could make the move, you gripped onto her neck and pulled her in for another kiss. Tara felt you smile against her lips before you pulled away, letting out a giggle, “I really like you a lot, Tara. And I’m not going anywhere.”

             Tara’s cheeks ached with how much she was smiling as she rested her hands on your hips, “I don’t intend on letting anything ever happen to you.”

             As you pulled her back in for another kiss, this one more aggressive than the last, Tara felt like the fear in her was melting away. She never thought she’d be able to open up to another person and then there you were, almost like you were sent here to show her she didn’t have to be afraid. Maybe falling fast wasn’t such a bad thing sometimes.

 HEY GUYS I’M GLAD TO BE BACK. I hope this turned out okay. Love you guys so much. Maybe I’ll update one of my stories next? What do you guys think?

[sonderthroughthestreets]

Moon Jellies

For anon, a sobbe aquarium first date fic (I’m so sorry this is late!)

Also I’ve never been to an aquarium, much less on a date in one, so sorry if this sucks. Also sorry for any mistakes. 

Any more prompts are welcome!

Robbe was a nervous wreck. His palms were sweaty, his head was racing, and his heart was beating a million miles per minute as he stared at himself in the mirror. He smelled his wrists to check the cologne and then shook them out to relieve a bit of the nerves. He blew out a breath as he ran his fingers through his hair one last time, trying to get all the curls and spikes just right. This is ridiculous, he thought. It’s just a date. No. It was actually more than that. It was his first date with Sander. Something he couldn’t have ever dreamed of actually happening a week ago.

Just last week, they had been laying on Robbe’s bed, ankles and heads at opposite ends of each other, talking about school, assignments, friends, places and somehow they’d ended up on the topic of sea creatures and aquariums.

“Do you know that jellyfish don’t have a brain?” Sander asked. There was a twinkle in his eye and a mischievous smile forming across his mouth. Robbe looked at him.

“You don’t have a brain,” he playfully and lightly kicked his shoulder, a smile playing on his lips too.

“Ok, but seriously, they don’t have a nervous system, like people don’t even know how they move!” he continued.

Robbe shrugged. “They are beautiful though,” he said, looking up at the ceiling.

Sander sat up, now fully engaged in the conversation, his thoughts running.

“They have four feeding tentacles, they can sting you so bad, they have five stomachs and they’re 97% water. Is that not impressive?” he asked.

“I guess,” Robbe smiled at his enthusiasm.

“You guess?” Sander scoffed, tilting his head. “So what impresses you, Ijzermans?”

Robbe tried to ignore how his tone made his heart flip in dizzying cartwheels. Tried to not let the sound of his last name coming from him drown him. Tried not to say, you.

“Not much. Right now they sound like the kind of thing I’d be reading about in my biology textbook,” he shifted his legs and slumped further into the bed.

“But you like reading your biology textbook,” Sander smirked.

“I don’t know, they sound kind of scary. Whimsical little things at the bottom of the ocean that we don’t know much about. Like you said, we don’t even know how they move.”

He could feel Sander’s eyes on him, wholly green, sparkling with intent. Robbe couldn’t take it anymore and finally looked at him questioningly as if to say, what?

“They drift through the current” he finally said. “That doesn’t mean they know where they’re going but...” he kept his eyes on him. “Do you wanna go see them?”

“What?”

“There’s an exhibit at the aquarium that I really wanted to see and they’ve got- well you- I mean - we don’t have to-“

“We?”

Robbe couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yes we. If you want to that is” Sander smiled. He was suddenly kind of sheepish, but his eyes never left Robbe’s. And Robbe in his abrupt state of confusion could never have imagined Sander like this, all nervous and anxious. He and Sander had been spending a lot of time together over the past few months and he could never tell when his energy changed if it was because he was Sander or if it was because of an effect Robbe had on him. He couldn’t even imagine that he could ever have any sort of effect on him at all. He realized it had been a while and he needed to respond.

“Yeah,” he grinned, nodding his head. “Yeah, I want to.”

“It’s a date, then,” he reached over for his phone, scrolling through his calendar. “We could go Wednesday after school. Half day, right?”

As Sander tapped to go to the aquarium’s website to buy tickets, Robbe stared at him. His eyes shifted over his bleached hair, his endearing eyes, his black Bowie shirt, and the way he looked so nonchalant now, seconds after being anything but calm. And Robbe didn’t know where his courage came from but he wanted to take advantage of his last sentence to say,

“When you say date, do you mean like a date date?” he asked.

Sander froze. He slowly looked up from his phone, licked his lips and asked, “Do you want it to be a date date?”

Robbe breathed in. There was no turning back now.

“Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah,” Sander’s lips curved upwards.

And now Robbe was standing in front of the mirror feeling very self-conscious and not at all like the Robbe that asked him out. Or was it Sander that asked him? He couldn’t tell but he’d be here very soon and all he could think about was what do you even wear to an aquarium? He opted to wear his dark green hoodie and jeans. This was casual anyways and he didn’t really feel like a dress shirt would be appropriate for the occasion and just when he felt like maybe he could change, he heard the doorbell ring. Shaking his hair one last time and grabbing his phone off the counter he went to greet Sander.

“Hey,” said a smiling Sander.

“Hi,” said a smiling Robbe.

“You look good,” Sander’s eyes drifted down. It vanished Robbe’s doubts and he looked at Sander too, in his white shirt and black leather jacket.

“So do you.”

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

They started with the sea turtles and then would make their way to the stingrays. Sander had said they’d go through the whole aquarium and he was saving the best one, the jellyfish of course, for last.

He was so excited, he was practically vibrating at the front doors. There weren’t as many people inside since it was a weekday and Robbe figured that probably made Sander beam even more whenever he looked at him.

As they walked around each exhibit, Robbe felt like he’d never seen such beauty and iridescence. Seeing how the lights made all the creatures glimmer in the water and how the curves of the glass above them engulfed them into the sea made Robbe feel the strangest sense of calm. He watched in their respective exhibits as stingrays and sea turtles and beluga whales swam by, their slow movements synchronizing with his heartbeat. It felt as if time stopped and when Sander grabbed his hand, he looked to see him staring at him with such sincerity, the crinkles in his eyes prominent from his smile. Robbe sighed.

“I can see you like it,” he felt Sander’s breath on his cheek.

“Yeah, it’s really great.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“The jellyfish?”

“Mmmmhh,” Sander hummed in agreement. “But first, lets check out that one,” he nodded to another area in the corner, a more hands-on and interactive exhibit.

Robbe and Sander stood near the tank in front of them inspecting the oddly shaped starfish. Sander nudged Robbe.

“Touch it.”

“No.”

“Touch it.”

“No.”

“Touch it.”

“No! You touch it!” Robbe giggled and shoved him lightly. Sander reached out and ran his fingers over one of its arms.

“It’s soft,” he said. Then suddenly, “Ahh!” as he pulled his hand out of the water. His finger had bumped a sharp rock and he shook the water off his hand as he inspected it. “Can you kiss it better?” he asked Robbe.

Robbe shook his head, chuckling as he lifted his hand to his lips and kissed it lightly.

“Actually my lips hurt, can you kiss them better too?” Sander smirked.

“I don’t kiss on the first date,” Robbe wrapped his arms around him.

“Mmmmh, maybe on the next one then.”

And then finally, finally, they made it to the jellyfish exhibit. Sander’s pace picked up faster than Robbe’s as he let go of his fingers to run up to the glass. Robbe followed, watching. He looked up to the bioluminescent creatures, neon colours of pinks, purples, blues and yellows, and stared in awe. Seeing them in his textbook was one thing, but seeing them in person, right in front of you, floating around like some strange, other-worldly thing? It wasn’t scary, it was...breathtaking.

“Aurelia aurita,” Sander broke his trance. “Or more commonly known as moon jellyfish or the common jellyfish, moon jellies if you will,” he made a face, laughing. “They’re found in most oceans but mostly the Atlantic. No nervous system, no muscles, they feed on plankton. They live a simple life” he finished. It sounded exactly like what Robbe had read in his textbook. He thought he was the science nerd here and he wasn’t expecting Sander to be so knowledgeable in all this.

“So,” his lips etched up. “Why jellyfish?” Robbe asked. Sander took a moment to watch the creatures slowly float by.

“My mom said I used to draw them all the time when I was a kid. Then I got obsessed with them and as I learned more about them, I think I got really interested in the fact that they don’t have brains. At least not in a complicated way like some animals and humans do.”

He looked lost in the water, eyes in a daze and Robbe almost regretted asking the question. Sander took a seat on the empty bench placed for viewing the fish. Robbe followed.

“Do you remember how I told you about my thoughts? And how they don’t stop sometimes?”

Robbe nodded. They’d gotten quite close the last few months.

“Well, I think I like jellyfish bc they don’t have brains to have any thoughts. They can just drift wherever the current takes them,” he said. “But sometimes they can sting you and I- I don’t want to do that.”

Robbe thought back to their conversation a week ago and how he had called jellyfish scary. He had no idea Sander felt like that. He didn’t know if Sander even meant it like this when they were talking then. He thought it was just about the sea creatures. And maybe it had been in the beginning.

“Sander,” Robbe immediately took his hands in his, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “You’re not a jellyfish. You’re you.” He shifted closer, touching his knees to his. “And I really like you.”

“I really like you, too,” Sander touched his forehead to Robbe’s. After a long moment of just sitting still like that, Robbe whispered,

“Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you didn’t kiss on first dates,” Sander chuckled softly. “Yes.”

Robbe softly pressed his lips to his. Though the exhibit was practically empty, he was thankful to keep it short and sweet, still basking in the taste, lightheaded from the fact that he was here with Sander. And as their date came to an end, Robbe left feeling content and grateful that he agreed to come to the aquarium with him. And the best part was Sander holding his hand throughout it all, excited and giddy to look at all the sea animals. Once they walked back to Robbe’s door, Sander felt reluctant to let go of his hand.

“I had a great time today,” Robbe said.

“Me too.”

And before Sander knew it, Robbe was pulling him in for another longer kiss, kissing him in ways he couldn’t at the aquarium.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Sander lingered a bit longer until he let go and headed out.

“Remember!” Robbe shouted as Sander turned back. “You’re not a jellyfish!”

“I could be! Am I not pretty enough?”

“Beautiful!”

Sander gave him one last smile before he disappeared around the corner. Robbe finally closed the door and his cheeks hurt from grinning so widely. Today didn’t feel real but he was so glad Sander let him into his world. One thing that he knew for sure was that this was the best first date ever and that he couldn’t wait until the next one.

[shiniyi-writes]

Modern Day Bonnie and Clyde - Chapter One

For a better layout, read it on AO3

______________________________________________________________

„Miss Shadowhill, are you even keeping attention?“, the voice of my mentor, Dr. Lenning, sounded off from my Laptop. It made me jump.

„I'm sorry, Dr. Lenning“, I apologised to him, „I haven't slept much the last few days and I'm really lacking in concentration because of that.“

„Yeah, I can see that“, he chided me, „Do you want to talk about it?“

To talk about it? Nothing more than that, but I couldn't. He gave me his trust and I really don't want to betray him.

„Thank you very much for the offer“, I thanked him, „But I think this would be in the way of our student-mentor relationship“

„Well, alrigth, but if you should change your mind, you know how to reach me.“

I nod to that. I knew he just meant well, after all I knew the 'little helper syndrom', which many psychologists and psychotherapists had from myself. Maybe it was exactly this, what brought me in  my current situation.

„Then we will meet again next week“, he told me, „Oh and remember that you need to pick a topic for your thesis soon.“

I startled when I saw the date on the bottom right corner of my Desktop and realised, that I really didn't have much time left to decide; but I gave my best to not show it in front of Dr. Lenning.

We said our goodbyes, I closed my Laptop and fell back into my office chair, very exhausted. In just a few month, I had to send in my doctoral thesis, if I want to have my doctoral degree in psychology ; but I couldn't concentrate for the sake of god.

The reason was, as I already told my mentor, that I haven't slept much the last few days and if I was able to sleep in, I woke up just after two to three hours.

But why I had such troubles sleeping? Well, it was easy to explain: I was really worried.

Worried about Jake.

A few days prior, I received his last message, after Lilly and I solved his puzzle. In it, he revealed two things to me: That he was Hannahs and Lillys half-brother and that he had to go into hiding, because his persecutors were closer to him as ever before.

To be honest, the first thing really didn't surprised me much. I already could imagine that he had to have some kind of connection to Hannah and I was pretty sure that he wasn't her lover. If he would have been and would have done all this because of that, he wouldn't have wrote this messages to me, which always made my heart beat faster whenever I read them.

The second thing still seemed so surreal to me. He already told me some time before, that he was wanted by the government and his messages also became less after that. But he still made sure to message me at least all three days, even if he just told me he was OK.

But this wasn't the case now, so I was completely uncertain if he was alright and safe. I was really worried that they caught him and would do terrible things to him. I already accompanied Dr. Lenning many times to appointments with his clients in prison and saw what it did to them. This people could be the hardest and most ruthless people you have ever seen, but the prison had broke anybody of them.

I took a deep breath, so I could sort my thoughts. At least there was one spark of hope, which kept me from going nuts. This spark of hope was #iamjake.

It was Lillys idea. With this Hashtag, under which many people already made a post, Jakes persecutors should have a harder time to find him, but we didn't know if it works.

Somehow I had to distract myself from this negativ thoughts, even if it was just for a moment. I schwung myself on my feet and walked around my desk towards my bed on the other site of the room. On top of it lay my cloth for the night: A long negligee out of vinous satin and a dressing gown of the same kind of fabric in black.

I peeled myself out of my cloth and when I said peeled, I really meant so. I loved Lolita-Fashion in dark colors, my whole closet was full of it. I thought it was really stylish, but putting an outfit on, or in this case off, was pretty complicated. First I got rid of my jewelery: My earings, the long necklace, my rings and the artifical rose, which rested in my hair. After that, my dress fell to the ground, which was colored in black and violett and was also made of satin. I picked it up and threw it on my bed, before I also got rid of my black tights.

Last but not least, there was still my corset. I didn't tie it as tight as this ladys from past times, nonetheless it was a good feeling to be out of it after a long day.

I will put the dress to the laundry later. Now, I loosened my hair, which was tied up into a bun. My brown locks fell over my shoulders and stopped at the middle of my back. Slowly, I felt the tension disappering from my scalp.

I slipped into my negligee and into my dressing gown. Now that I was dressed into something more comfortable, I would go into the kitchen, get myself a glas of whine and would read a good book, while sitting in front of my chimney. I knew that drinking never solved any problems, but it should be ok if I have just one glas.

So, I left my bedroom and walked through the long corridor towards the stairs. My house was an old manor house out of the 19th century. Upstairs was my bedroom, my bathroom and a lounge. Downstairs were the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, two other bathrooms and the corridor towards my employees appartments.

Now somebody could ask how a woman in her twenties, who's giving psychological guidance sometimes while she is writing her doctoral thesis, could affort this. To be honest, I couldn't under normal circumstances, but that is another story.

I quickly walked down the stairs. Dimmed lights were burning in the entrance hall, so people could still see, if they need to walk through at night. The big grandfather-clock showed that it was a few minutes after midnight, everyone else was probably already asleep.

I reached the end of the stairs and navigated towards the kitchen, when suddenly the lights on the patio lighted up. They worked by a motion detector, which meant that somebody was in front of the door. Was somebody still outside after all?

My question was negated, when the person knocked on the door just a few seconds later.

All of my employees had a key for this house and if somebody should have forgotten it, they mostly called for someone to let them in. That meant there was somebody else in front of the door, but what did a stranger want in the middle of the night?

Carefully, so my silhouette wouldn't show through the windows in the door, I walked towards a commode which stood next to the stairs. I oppened the drawer and grobed in it, until I had what I was looking for. It was a already loaded revolver.

It may sound a little crazy, but since I was involved in Hannahs case and received threats by the Man without a face, I became a little paranoid. Sure, I lived a long distance away from Duskwood, but you couldn't be carefull enough. Besides, with my 5' 1'' body height, I definitely couldn't beat someone in close combat.

They knocked again.

I slowly walked towards the door, lay my hand on the iron handle and opened the door for a little gap, to see who was standing there. I held the revolver behind my back while doing this.

In front of the door was a man, who was a whole had taller than me. His hood was hiding his face and he was drenched by the rain, which was falling the whole evening allready.

„Please excuse the late disturbance“, he said; his voice was deep but also gentle, „My car broke down at the street and I don't have any tools with me, would you have some I could borrow?“

At least he was polite, but that doesn't have to mean anything.

„I sure have some tools here“, I said, „But you could also call the breakdown service from here, if you want.“

„I... am uninsured, so I'd rather look after the car myself“

It was suspicous that he had to think about his sentence at the beginning, but what a human being would I be, if I would send him away now?

Damn to my helper-syndrom!

„Come in for now, I will look for the tools.“

I opened the door completely to let him in, but he hesitated.

„You don't have to let me in, I don't want to be any trouble to you“, he said.

That was odd. If he would have bad intentions, he would have get in without hesitation, won't he?

„You will catch your death, if you stay outside in this drenched cloth“, I said while tugging on the fringe of his sleeve, so he would move.

He eventually gave in and walked into the entrance hall. Under the pretext that I wanted to close the door, I stepped behind him and quickly hid the revolver in an inside pocket of my bathrobe, which I let one of my housekeepers sew in a while ago.

„I'm getting you a towel, so you can dry yourself a bit, then I'm looking for tools.“

With this words, I walked in the direction of my employees apartments, where one of the other bathrooms were located.

Odd enough, I came down here to let loose of some thoughts, but now many more where forming in my head.

I just let a completely stranger in my house!

Some people could say a soon to be doctor should be more intellegient than that...

Well, now it's to late to do anything about it, so I opened up the drawer of the white commode, which stood under the lavatory, and pulled out a towel, before heading back to the entrance hall.

The man was currently browsing around the hall, when I came back.

„You have a really nice place here“, he said.

I thanked him for the compliment and gave him the towel.

After he took the textile from me, he finally took of his hood and I was able to see his face. He had dark blue eyes and lightly sharp jawline. But what was the most eye-catching about his looks, were his tousled raven hair.

When I looked at him, a sudden thought arised in my head. This description would be kind of fitting for...

No... that couldn't be.

It would be too much of a coincidence.

Or wouldn't it?

„...Jake?“, a whisper escaped my mouth.

Directly after realising what I just said, I slammed my hand in front of my mouth. Damn it, did I really just said this out loud?

I looked into the mans face and... was I just imagine things, or did he look shocked?

„How do you know my...“, he wanted to ask, but paused midsentence; just as if he realised something, „Wait... Aurelia?“

[tales-of-spring]

crack me open | Chapter 1: Reunion

Pairing / Ship: Dean Winchester x Male reader

Featuring: Sam Winchester

Words: 1571

Category: angst, cryptographer!hunter!reader

Warning: implied hurtful past, (implied) angst, complicated past, old wounds, reunion, use of guns and knives, bitchslapping

Summary: It’s been years since you last saw the Winchester brothers, and now, Sam stands on your doorstep asking for your help. 

Author’s Note: I have a thing for Sam weirdly entering the story. 

After a long day of studying you finally have returned to your forest home to relax from all of the stress. You rubbed your shoulders as you turned the key in the front door. The smell of a clean wave hit you, your bag sliding down your arm and onto the ground. You breathed out heavily and made your way to the kitchen, your stomach was dying for something to eat. A PB and J would suffice for now, at least until dinner. Your mind drifted off to the assignment that needed to be finished at the end of the week about Archaic Latin but as soon as it appeared, the sooner it left. You grabbed two slices of bread, a plate, a knife and the two spreads. 

You were on your way to the living room, a tv show was definitely your way to relax and you knew just the thing. You sat yourself on the couch, turned on the tv and started to go through the various channels in hopes your favorite show was on. Alas you had to settle for a good alternate, you were happy nonetheless. It was a little over an hour until your stomach needed more food, so up you got and went back to the kitchen. 

Two loud thuds came from the back of the house. Your head snapped into the suggestive direction, eyes focused. You had a hunter past, enough combat training to get you out of plenty of situations, so you weren’t exactly scared. Your hand slipped onto the handle of a kitchen drawer, you opened it and carefully pocketed a knife. You started to slowly and carefully walk towards the direction. ‘’You should know that I’m armed to kill, and I got a mean right swing so I’d watch it if I were you!’’ You were at the back of the house, in the hallway that lead to the stairs, carefully looking around you.

One more loud thud occurred followed by the sound of a lock being picked. You frowned, but your patience ran thin. You threw the knife onto the ground and started walking to the living room, swiftly grabbing one of your hidden firearms and entering the entrance hall of the house. You easily cocked the gun and shot it a few times at the door while walking in a calm pace. ‘’I would run if I were you!’’ You shouted at the door. You ejected the empty round and reloaded the gun, coking it again. Looking around you carefully, waiting for something to happen.  The door bell rang. Was this a joke? You frowned heavily, but walked over the door. You placed your hand on the door knob and doubted for a second. You held onto your gun firmly, took a deep breath and then opened the door. You immediately aimed your gun at whoever was standing in the doorway. The guy had his arms held up, like he was surrendering, and looked a little worried. You squinted for a second, making sure you were really seeing what you were seeing. Your arms slowly descended as you came to realize it was your old friend and accomplice, Sam Winchester, trying to break into your house. 

You slapped him on the cheek, first off. For the attempt at breaking in, scaring you and not keeping in touch over the pat few years. He looked like he understood though. You were staring at each other for a few seconds until both of you bursted out in laughter and hugged each other tightly. ‘’You always knew how to spice things up, Y/N.’’ You laughed and kicked his knee softly. He fake grunted and leaned down as if he was really hurt. ‘’And you still know how to handle yourself.’’ Laughter ensued as you broke the hug and went inside, you can’t believe after all these years, Sam was here again. 

You seated yourself and him in the living room and after some all talk, Sam had cut to the chase. ‘’So the reason I came here, Y/N is because..’’ You looked at him, the pause tempted your curiosity even more. He looked like he was doubting what to say, what words to use. After he took a sharp breath, he continued. ‘’Dean and I need your help.’’ Sam knew what would happen at the mention of Dean’s name. Your face turned neutral and into stone, your gaze wandered off to the window, outside. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, you didn’t say anything. Sam stood up and walked around, pacing silently while rubbing his stubble beard. ‘’We’re working on an international case that involves..’’ He look at you as if he wanted you to finish the sentence.

You chuckled and shook your head, they just needed you for a hunt? After all these years? After everything that happened? You leaned back and looked back at Sam. ‘’Let me guess, crack codes and ancient texts?’’ Sam’s look drifted from you but he nodded slowly. ‘’Yes.’’ 

You shook your head and crossed your arms. You were not about to play into the hands of Sam nor..him. You were done with that stuff. You haven’t hunted in years but pursued your passion for linguistics, it would lead to a well paying job anyways. Sam saw you shaking your head, turned around and kneeled beside you, ready to start begging if he needed to. ‘’Please, Y/N, you won’t even have to meet with him. I’ll be the one corresponding with you through out everything. Trust me, he doesn’t need to be apart of this.’’ You breathed in and out deeply, looking into the void and thinking, contemplating. ‘’We need you, Y/N.’’ 

That made you look back to Sam, into his eyes. Damnit, you blamed yourself for still having a soft spot for them. But then again, you had spent so many years by their side, by his side..you wondered how he was from time to time. Dean, your ex. ‘’I need you.’’ Sam was literally on his knees asking for your help. He had no where else to turn, you knew it. If he did he wouldn’t be here. You caved. ‘’Fine, I’m in.’’ A soft, awkward smile started to form on Sam’s face and he held out his hand. You shook your head, chuckled, but grabbed it anyway. He lifted you up and you started to walk towards your bag in the kitchen, which had your laptop in it. ‘’I’m gonna need a list of all of the texts and codes you have already encountered and then all of the examples, the real ones.’’ Sam quickly started to write this down as you logged onto your laptop. 

He walked over to you and took a seat at the kitchen island. ‘’Thank you..for helping..’’ You laughed and started to search your personally made database for codes, scriptures, languages and texts. ‘’You’re damn right. You know I’m better at speech, invocation and well-’’ You were about to state the obvious.  ‘’-cryptography, then both of you combined.’’ At that, Sam chuckled knowing you were right. Your eyes darted across the screen, your fingers rapidly typing on the board. ‘’Besides, I’m the only one able to out sass you both.’’ 

Sam had gone out to pick up the things you asked for, and he promised he would bring back pizza for you both. It had been a few hours of you going through your database, listening to Sam’s stories about the current hunt so you were both tired and hungry. Out of boredom, you grabbed your phone and started going through the ‘Contacts’ app. You were scrolling for a while until you reached the bottom. A category named ‘’Archived’’ sat at the end, with only one name under it. 

Dean Winchester’s 

Should you call him? You had thought about it, many times. You wondered how he was, what he was doing, if he was still alive. He was, he still was. Thank god, you don’t know what you would do if he wasn’t.. if he had..

Your finger hovered over his name and you clicked it., his contact profile popped open. Your thumb went over to the call icon, then to the delete icon. You were conflicted, confused. This could be the moment things would change. Your finger went back to the green call icon, and you swallowed. Even after all this time, after all the hurt he caused after the break up, you still wanted to see him. Some part you hid away deeply, it was still there. You closed your eyes, thinking back to those days. You could still smell his hair shampoo, feel his arms wrapped around you, see his smile, feel yourself sitting in his Impala on your one-hundredth drive through date. God you loved him, and he loved you. He was yours, or so you thought at least. 

If it wasn’t for Sam calling you, you maybe would have pressed the call button. Maybe. You picked up and put the phone to your ear. ‘’Everything alright, Winchester?’’ You heard him chuckle and you returned the favor. ‘’You still like those pizza’s with the cheese crust?’’ Your heart fluttered at the thought of a cheese crust pizza and you excitedly squealed. ‘’I’ll take that as a yes, want anything else?’’ You mentioned your love for a milkshake and hung up after you made sure Sam would bring home the right one. 

[tonksie-writes]

A Mark and A Soul||CH 3

Summary: The next morning Cara tries to figure out how to avoid any sort of incriminating conversations when things get more complicated.

A/N: Hi! So Here there is mentioned a background WLW Ship. It’s not going to be a huge part but it’s there and IDK if anyone but me in this world ships it but ya know.... it’s small. Also look more chapters. Let’s keep going right?

Prologue, Ch 1 , Ch2,  AO3

It wasn’t much of a surprise to Cara when she woke up alone. She hadn’t expected to have him there wrapped around her when she woke up, though a small traitorous voice in her mind said she’d have liked that. Other than the bottles on the floor and a foggy dream of Din kissing her, there was no hint of the Mandalorian in the room. Her body, however, had a keen reminder of everything that had happened the night before. She sat up clutching a thin sheet over her chest -- a sheet she knew she hadn’t pulled up herself.

Images of the night before played in her head. She wasn’t some school girl still fumbling with boys behind trees on Alderaan. She’d had plenty of one night stands before and even a few instances of more drawn out but equally casual interactions. It was rare on Alderaan for people to ‘betray’ their soulmates by being with someone else; it happened here and there. None of those interactions had her replaying scenes from the night before quite like what she’d had with Din. She still felt his lips on hers in a bruising passion, still felt his hands roaming over her seeking places that would make the most impact on her. She could still hear his voice in her ear as his hot breath tickled her skin. Those memories alone would have her hitting the fresher if she wasn’t careful.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the thick metal door. “Yeah?” she called out in a rasping voice. Somehow it was no surprise when the door opened, and he was standing there in his full armor. 

He seemed to hesitate for a moment at the sight of her, but walked in and closed the door behind him. “I brought you some caf and breakfast,” he said, holding out a plate of indiscernible food matter and a steaming cup. She knew it was impossible but somehow she could have sworn she could feel his eyes roaming over her form under the thin sheet. Call her crazy, but she was pretty sure he was blushing too.

“Thanks.” 

She reached out, taking the cup with one hand still holding the sheet over her chest. He set the plate aside and looked like he was about to sit on the bed for a second before he changed his mind. 

“About--” he started, but she instantly cut him off. No way he was finishing that sentence.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked instead. That wasn’t a conversation she was willing to have right now. There were too many ways it could go, and she wasn’t ready for any of them.

“That--I?” His confusion was clear in his voice. Somewhere under that helmet was a wrinkled brow and a slight frown, along with an agape jawline surrounded by a scruff she still felt the marks of on some of the more sensitive places on her body. His dark eyes were probably searching her face for a clue of what she meant. 

She tried not to laugh at the images she now had in her mind to match a face with the expressions she always read in his voice. “Bib Fortuna,” she supplied, and he seemed to register as she took a slow sip of her caf praying for the magical substance to work its marvels with her sleep deprived mind.

“Right. Fortuna. Fett and Shand wanted to go in the front door. Fett wanted to use the ship to give coverfire while you and Shand go in and take out the guards inside.” 

Cara let out a scoff as she arched her brow. “Seriously? He wants to take out one of the worst crime lords in the galaxy with a loud frontal assault? Like he doesn’t have escape tunnels?” 

Din let out a chuckle under his helmet and shrugged, “That’s what I said.” 

She smiled a bit at him, holding back a laugh. He moved to sit on the foot of the rack giving them plenty of space between them, but still closer.

“Really?” she asked, not really believing him.

“I was a little less blunt, but the meaning was there.” he admitted, and she laughed. 

“Sure,” she said, leaning back, allowing the sheet to slip down her chest a little as she placed both hands around her caf mug, “but it could still work with a smaller distraction. If it’s quiet or if we can scout how many guards he has, then you and I can go in first and Shand can snipe from farther back?” 

As she took a long sip of her caf, she waited for his response. Din’s helmet didn’t move in the least, but she could somehow tell his eyes flicked from her face to the place where the sheet was barely keeping her modest. Was he even listening?

“We can talk about that upstairs.” he offered, but he sounded distracted. She knew she was attractive, and after last night, he was clearly attracted to her. Soulmate facts aside, he had made it very clear that he was physically attracted to her. Feeling his eyes and hearing his voice was still a boost to the ego, though. She casually picked up a piece of fruit from the breakfast plate and popped it into her mouth, licking her fingers and lips, but continued on like she wasn’t trying to all but torture him with her current movements. She’d always been a big fan of playing with fire.

“You’ve already been up there, right? What’s going on? Still fighting?” she asked, sucking the last of the fruit’s juice off her fingers. It was very good if a little sweet but she wasn’t in this for the fruit. She could nearly see the gears turning in his head. Was it mean to do this to the poor armored man in front of her? Absolutely yes. Was she also enjoying that cruelty immensely? Also very much yes.

After a pause, he finally cleared his throat and spoke, rasping, “They haven’t come out yet. It’s still early.” 

“Did I steal your caf?” she asked, pointing to the now half-empty mug that had joined the plate on the rackside table.

He shook his head just slightly “No I umm… I locked them out of the kitchenette.” He admitted a bit sheepishly.

She tilted her head and arched an eyebrow at him. “You barricaded the door instead of just coming in here to eat?” she asked, a bit pointedly. If he was going to feel awkward about everything or if he was going to put himself or others into uncomfortable situations, then she’d have to talk to him. She’d still avoid the feelings thing, she didn’t do those, but other parts.

“They didn’t mind,” he assured her awkwardly, “I mentioned you were still sleeping.”

“And they just gave you free reign?” she asked, not believing him for a second. There had to be more to it.

“Well, Shand was going through fighting forms, and I think Fett is afraid of you,” he explained, making her laugh. “He said I could take my time.”

“You punch one wall,” she said, rolling her eyes jokingly at the memory of when she’d gotten a little too pissed off at how long everything was taking and needed to let out some steam.

“You dented his ship,” Din pointed out, and she could hear the laugh in his voice.

“Barely! It wasn’t even that hard of a punch,” she scoffed, but the smile on her face was unmistakable. They laughed and sat in silence for a moment as she ate more of her meal a little less sexually this time. She could sense him fighting with himself about what to say next, what to do. She knew she wouldn’t be able to face that conversation quite yet, so she diverted it. “You might wanna get upstairs. If I don’t get dressed, they might think I killed you and get a whole damn show.” 

“Right,” he said, nodding “I’ll see you upstairs then.” As he turned, he paused at the door as though he wanted to say something, but stopped himself and walked out. She sighed into her knees and realized this was going to be so much harder now.

Cara managed her way upstairs leaving the plate to deal with later but taking the cup of caf with her. She walked into the main hull and took up her post, leaning comfortably on a wall watching Fett and Din chart a course. It didn’t take long before Bo-Katan and Koska walked in as well. “After talking it over, we’ve elected to stay and assist you with your mission.” Kryze announced to the room.

It certainly pulled everyone’s attention. Fett looked ready to start another fight, and Cara stood up straighter as Din walked closer to the two women. “What brought on the change of heart?” he asked, sounding more curious than anything. Something in Cara’s mind said he was suspicious though, and so was she if she was being honest.

“You have the dark saber. It’s our duty to protect you.” Koska said bluntly. Cara arched a brow at the woman and tried not to laugh as she walked up behind Din.

“He doesn’t need protecting. And even if he did, he has back-up,” she challenged, staring her down.

Koska looked ready to speak up, but Bo-Katan was the one who actually got the words out first. “The position of the Mand’alor is important to reclaiming our planet and people. As you’ve decided to work with Fett and his goals, it is in the best interest for our people to ensure that you have the best support in that endeavor.” Cara hated politicians. She found the people in charge of governments to be generally despicable people, and while she had no issues with Bo-Katan and actually respected the woman as a fighter, sometimes, when she opened her mouth, Cara wanted to punch her. It didn’t help that Kryze still looked like she was tempted to challenge Din for the saber, and Cara wasn’t entirely convinced the woman wouldn’t try and take it by force at an inopportune time. 

“So you’re going to help without throwing a fit?” Fett shot back in a mocking tone, and Cara could see the anger flash in the two women’s eyes in front of her and had no doubt that it was matched in the eyes of the clone behind her.

“They would be helpful,” Din suggested, deflecting the rising tension in the room, “It couldn’t hurt to have more hands. They’ve already proved they can work well with Cara and Shand. The four of us could easily take out any forces on the ground, and you and Shand could use the distraction to get Fortuna.” Cara did not have enough caf for this. She just stood over his shoulder, letting the others make the decision. She was here for Din. She’d never pretended she had an ulterior motive. Sure, getting Gideon was great, she loved that little bit of revenge, but Din and the kid had been her first priorities, and now that the kid was gone, Din remained her reason for staying.

“We did make a good team and six heads are better than four.” Fennec spoke up for the first time from her corner of the room. “They’re talented fighters,” she added, sounding more like she was reminding Boba than anything else.

“It never hurts to have a few more Mandalorians around,” Boba relented, eventually nodding at them, though something in the tone felt sarcastic. “It’ll be quite the asset to have you both.” 

“Great, we have a whole team. I’m getting more caf.” Cara deadpanned, walking past Din as he made eye contact with her. She could feel the question in his eyes, but she smirked and held up the mug as her only answer. No amount of military training could stop the fact that she was not a morning person.

Cara walked down towards the kitchen area and was nearly to the door when she heard the armor behind her. She turned expecting to see Din and was instead met with Koska and Bo-Katan. “Marshal Dune.” Bo-Katan greeted with that appeasing look that reminded her of one too many political missions.

“Yes?” she asked, glancing between the two. It was strange being face-to-face and alone with them. That wasn’t something she’d experienced yet and somewhere in her gut, she braced for a fight.

“What are your intentions with the Mandalorian?” Bo asked, to Cara’s annoyance.

“Which one?” she asked, trying to evade the question because that was a whole can of worms she didn’t want to deal with. 

“Funny.” Koska scoffed sarcastically, but both kept a calm facade. 

“Look, I don’t see why it’s any of your business, but he and I are friends, and I’ve got his back,” she said flatly, staring the two of them down, threatening them to say something about it.

Bo Katan nodded, “Very admirable to be certain, but he is the Mand’alor now whether he likes it or not. That Saber comes with power and responsibility. As such we, as Mandalorians, serve at the pleasure of the Mand’alor.”

Cara scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Right. Ok. I’m sure he’ll love hearing that,” she said as she bit back a laugh.

“It's our job to keep him safe. That includes keeping him away from enemies in friends' clothing,” Bo explained smoothly, leading Cara to straighten at the implications. She felt the overwhelming urge to punch the woman in front of her for even thinking that she would ever hurt Din. Even so, she refused to acknowledge the small voice whispering, ‘Aren’t you hurting him by not saying you’re his soulmate?’

“And you came to talk to me?” she challenged.

“You are the one closest to him, are you not?” Koska pointed out. Cara raised her jaw and lifted her eyebrows looking for the reason that would matter. She supposed it would be a threat, someone close to Din could be the one to hurt him. She wasn’t going to do that, and she wasn’t going to let someone else do it either.

“Interesting you have such strong loyalty to him.” Bo probed lightly. 

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a man in armor,” she quipped, trying to steer them away from digging deeper. Without thinking, she swept some of her hair out of her face, tucking it to the side, before realizing her slip. Koska was close enough to get a flash of her mark, which wouldn’t have been a problem before last night.

“You’re his soulmate.” Koska said simply, making Bo Katan’s eyes light up.

Cara approached Bo with just this side of threatening, even as Koska stood between them. She couldn’t help but notice the two seemed to have black marks just poking out over their armor in the same place. “Does he know?” Bo asked, pulling Cara's attention, “Surely even a Child of the Watch would find it impossible to hold their vows fighting beside their soulmate.” 

“No, he doesn’t. What vows?” 

Bo Katan sighed, looking at her with a mix of pity and sympathy that made Cara want to lash out.

“He is a member of a … specific group of Mandalorians. They call themselves the Children of the Watch. They are a group of religious zealots who broke off from Mandalore just after the Purge. They believe in an ancient Way and wish to bring it back to all Mandalorians. They believe a warrior is the tribe and the tribe the warrior. As such they renounce their face, their names, and their soulmates.” 

Cara wasn’t entirely sure why she felt like she’d just been punched in the gut. 

Had Din renounced her? Had he sworn her away the same way he had his name or face? Was what they did last night the same as taking off his helmet? Why had he let her then? Did he know? 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“Of course it matters,” Bo insisted, aiming for gentleness and missing horribly. 

“No, it doesn’t!” she hotly reiterated, as her insides raged against the news of Din’s vows to reject his soulmate. 

“You’re a liability to him,” Koska observed. Cara was about ready to fight her when she saw the look in both Koska and Bo’s eyes. 

“Whether he knows or not, he is connected to you. The bond that connects soulmates starts far before skin-to-skin contact. He is already connected to you even if neither of you knows it, and the possibility of losing you is a vulnerability in him. He is a leader and a warrior, you know this. As such you have a responsibility to him and to everyone he leads to protect him.” 

This time, it wasn’t the flowery language of a politician Cara had thought earlier of Bo. It was from the heart. Once again, Cara’s eyes flicked between the women as Bo seemed to forget herself and put a hand on Koska’s arm.

In that moment, Cara felt a connection to Koska, recognizing a kinship built on two people in the same position. She nodded shortly. “You two?” Koska nodded, pulling down her shirt enough to see the small black marks entangling in a way only Bo and Koska would understand, nearly reminiscent of the owl painted on Bo’s helmet. 

“What are you suggesting?”

“We want to help you keep him safe and ensure he makes the best decisions for himself and Mandalore,” Bo explained, “His connection with Boba Fett is fine for now, but finding other Mandalorians and reclaiming our home needs to be a priority.” 

Cara had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

“And you think I’m going to help him go along with whatever you want? If you want the saber so badly, you can take it. He offered it. You can go reclaim your planet on your own.”

“It’s a fight to the death,” Koska grit out, “to regain the honor of the saber after losing it to an enemy would mean proving beyond a doubt that the other is unworthy of the might of Mand’alore. It would either end in banishment or death.” 

If the missive had come from Bo-Katan, Cara would have heard it as a threat. Coming from Koska, she understood what it really was. This was a warning for her and a sign of respect that Cara deserved the whole story of what she was getting into. If Din and Bo were to fight, Koska and Cara would be in the same position where having a dead soulmate was the best case scenario. 

Cara nodded her understanding. “I’m not going to push him to do anything he doesn’t want to do. He’s his own person; he can make his own decisions.” 

“Of course!” Bo Katan said in an airy tone that made Cara want to hit her again. “We would never suggest you push him into anything. He clearly already has a heart for people and Mandalore. Marshal Dune, I am certain you only wish to protect him, but part of protecting him is making sure he does what’s right. Keeping him from doing what he’ll regret. I just hope your Republic ties don’t end up causing friction between the two of you. You clearly care for him very much.”

Cara scoffed. “Great. Can I get my caf now?” 

“Of course. Please, enjoy.” Bo said airily, but Cara could tell she'd gotten just a bit under the woman's skin. She felt a small rush of pride as Bo started towards the ladder. 

Koska took an extra second, just looking at the woman. The two met eyes in a solid look that felt oddly even. If Koska’s soulmate weren’t so tough to handle, Cara was pretty sure she and Koska would have a blast together. 

“You should tell him,” Koska said, “before it’s too late. It’s better to have a little bit in the hard times than to stand there waiting to have everything in the easy ones.” 

Cara didn’t respond as the woman walked away and up the stairs. She swallowed, turning away, suddenly wanting something a hell of a lot stronger than caf. Not even a few seconds passed as she heard the sound of lightly grazing armor behind her before a tingling sensation hit her back. She felt more than heard him settle as he waited. 

“How much did you hear?” she asked.

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part thirteen Word count: ±3280 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part thirteen summary: The three hunters have unraveled the truth, but need more details to close this case once and for all. Time to break the news to the Shire family. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​​. Thanks, girls! Gif does not belong to me, but I was unable to track down the creator. Is this your gif? Let me know.

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     The ‘67 Chevrolet Impala rolls onto Lake Front Drive, a street where along both sides beautiful large homes are situated. On the left of the road they find a gorgeous house with blue woodwork, a big driveway and a nice yard, located right next to the lake. It’s the perfect picture of a family home, right out of a real-estate commercial. A dock runs out into the silent waters, geese bob at the surface as guardians of the deep.

     Sam is waiting in the shadows of the streets on the side of the road, blending into the darkness, but his brother spots him, however. Through the window he has been watching Mrs. Shire, who is currently tidying the kitchen, while her son is out on the dock, absently bouncing a basketball on the wooden planks. When his brother’s car slowly moves past and comes to a stop, Sam emerges from the black shade. The tall guy crosses the street with his hands shoved in his pockets.

     “Right on time,” he comments, when Dean gets out of the classic car.      “I don’t know who is in that grave, but it isn’t Laura,” Zoë fills in, emerging from the Impala with some difficulty. “The bones showed no signs of healed fractures.”      Sam sighs; great, another curveball. “So where could she be then?”      “We have a hunch,” Dean says, nodding his head at the waters. “Remember that she was soaking wet?”

     Stunned, his younger brother turns to watch the shimmering surface, huffing when the pieces of the puzzle come together. “She travels through water,” Sam realizes. “It’s an awfully big lake, though.”      “There isn’t a lot of current, so that at least helps. We need to figure out where Shire dumped her. That should narrow it down,” Zoë contemplates, glancing at the reservoir as well.      “Let’s wrap this up, shall we?” the older Winchester suggests, ready to close this case.

     He strides towards the Shire residence, but notices Zoë isn’t directly behind them. Dean glances further back and spots her. She got only several feet from the car in the timespan he reached the house, limping towards the men with her hand on her waist. Apparently the stiffness got worse after the car ride.      “Comin’, Speedy Gonzalez?” he mocks.      “Shut up, assface. I’ll be there before Christmas,” the wounded huntress bites back.

     Fighting an amused grin, Dean climbs the stairs to the front door and pushes the bell. Before Mrs. Shire answers, Zoë joins them.      “So what are we? FBI? State Police?” Zoë leafs through the several ID’s she’s got in the inner pocket of her leather jacket.      “Just follow my lead,”  Sam says without any further explanation.

     Before she can ask about it, the door opens. A chain prevents the door from swinging out entirely; seems like the homeowner took precautions after the attack. Completely useless measurements of course, they need a lot more than a little chain to stop a ghost from entering. A tired and worried face of a woman in her late forties partly shows.      “Can I help you?” she asks gently yet careful.      “Yes, we are--” Zoë automatically takes the lead and is about to flash her badge, when Sam intervenes.      “I’m Sam, that’s my brother Dean and this is Zoë. We’re here to help.”

     Perplexed, Zoë stares at Sam, but recovers quickly. This is certainly not the approach she expected or would have chosen herself. He’s actually going to tell her the truth? She exchanges looks with Dean, but he doesn’t seem worried. Apparently he’s used to this tactic and has confidence in his brother.      “Help me with what?” Mrs. Shire returns, puzzled.      “We know what happened to your husband. Our sympathies,” Sam continues compassionately. “But there are some things we need to talk to you about.”

     Doubtful, Mrs. Shire looks from one to the other. They can’t blame her, after the unexplained murder of Ronald, it’s only normal to mistrust anyone to show up at her doorstep, especially three complete strangers.      “I don’t know who you are, but I already talked to the police,” she claims, after which she intends to close the door.      With a quick movement, Zoë places her hand against the varnished wood to prevent it from locking. Her piercing brown eyes look straight into those of Mrs. Shire.      “We know who killed Ronald,” she states, straight to the point.

     The woman’s eyes widen as she freezes on the spot, shocked by the reveal. The widow is not the only one who is staring at Zoë. Sam doesn't seem pleased with her angle at all; talking about the direct approach.      “Smooth.” Dean clears his throat while pronouncing the word.      Normally Zoë would have glared at him, but this time her piercing gaze remains on Mrs. Shire, trying to get through to the woman. It seems to work, because she takes off the chain and steps back.

     The hunters enter the house calmly. Zoë looks around like she always does when she’s someplace new. It’s a common household, the homey 90’s decor inviting. Pictures of the happy family fill the walls, portraying an illusion. She glances into the kitchen, spotting the dinner table she saw the family seated at in her flashback, the image exactly the same.      While they walk in the living area, Sam hastens to the back of the house. “I’m gonna make sure her brother is okay,” he notifies, before he leaves the room.      Mrs. Shire’s eyes dart to Dean and Zoë in confusion. They can read from her facial expression that she’s worried and suspicious; two words in that sentence raise a big question.      “Her brother?” she repeats, dazed. “Is this about Laura?”      “It’s about both your late husband and daughter,” Dean explains as he sits down.

     Hesitating, Mrs. Shire settles on a comfortable chair opposite Dean. No one asked her to take a seat, but apparently something inside her tells her it might be wise. Zoë, on the other hand, remains standing. The only man in their company leans forward and rests his arms on his knees, forking his hands together. He pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth before he starts off; this is gonna hit hard. But before he can speak, the mother across from the table does.      “Did you go to the police?”

     Zoë can’t help but to raise her eyebrows. They are about to tell her who killed her husband and she’s worried about the police? Dean and Zoë exchange a look, after which Zoë answers.      “No, we haven’t,” she states. “They usually don’t handle things like this that well.”      “Things like what?” Mrs. Shire wonders, unable to follow.      Dean sighs and glances up at his hunting partner; here goes nothing.      “Things like ghosts.”

     Flabbergasted, the woman across from the table observes them both. Then she starts to laugh nervously.      “You’ve got to be joking,” she scoffs.      But both Zoë and Dean keep a straight face.      “Do we look like we’re joking?” Zoë returns the question.             The tense smile slowly disappears from Mrs. Shire’s face as she gapes at them. These two people who invaded her house are dead serious. Nevertheless, she refuses to believe it.      “This is outrageous, I can’t believe I’m still listening to this.” She gets up as the anger sets in. “Get out of my house.”      “I don’t think you want to be kicking us out,” Dean shoots her a penetrating glare. “Sit down, Mrs. Shire.”

      The widow holds his gaze, but the anger is replaced with a hint of fear. No wonder, because Dean’s order sounded intimidating, making it very clear that they won’t be leaving anytime soon. A necessary evil that sometimes is needed to get shit done, and for once Zoë appreciates the older Winchester’s angle. His stern message does its job, because Mrs. Shire settles on the chair again and places her hand on her lap, anxiously pulling her skirt down.

     “Like I said, we know what happened to your husband,” Zoë says, her voice somewhat softer now. “But we also know what happened to Laura.”      “I don’t know what you're talking about,” the woman claims.      “That’s funny, because Laura was pretty precise on the details of how you were very much aware,” Zoë returns.

     Bug-eyed, Mrs. Shire stares up at the young woman - who is still standing next to the couch with her  arms crossed in front of her - then her gaze shifts to Dean, frantically searching for answers. Zoë suppresses a sigh when the widow keeps looking at him like a deer in headlights. This is taking too long, and it’s not like the huntress has all the time in the world. Annoyed, she glances at the backdoor, wondering how Sam is doing.            “We know what Robert did to Laura. There’s no use denying that; we know everything,” Dean makes clear.      Not believing what she’s hearing, tears well up in her eyes. She swallows apprehensively. “H-How could you possibly know?” she stammers.      “Take in consideration that ghosts are real and I believe you can answer that question yourself,” Zoë enlightens her.

     Speechless, Mrs. Shire’s eyes drift off as they shimmer, then she closes them and tears roll down her face, mourning silently. Now Zoë too looks down at her shoes, not sure how to deal with this. She isn’t the type of person who puts her arm around someone to comfort the grieving, especially not to someone who looked the other way while her daughter was being abused. Dean doesn’t undertake action either and so they let her be. After a while, she starts to talk.

     “Ron always had an unstable personality. He could be a loving guy and just like that--” She snaps her fingers, “- he could change into this bad-tempered, aggressive man. I hoped that having a family would change him.”      She shivers during a short pause as she wipes at her tears. Dean observes the mother, as Zoë leans on the back of the couch. The sympathy they have for Mrs. Shire grows, now that they learn that Laura wasn’t the only one Ronald used to beat up when he was in a bad mood.      “When Tom was born, it seemed like something inside him did shift. Tommy meant everything to Ronald, he never laid a finger on him. But then, when Laura came...” Mrs. Shire closes her eyes as teardrops find their way down her weary face. “He never meant to kill her, he just lost it that evening. She was stubborn and he lost it.” Whimpering, she buries her face in her hands. “He had to cover it up. Tommy and I and even Ronald, we would have lost everything. Our home, Tom’s school, what was left of our family, everything. We just didn’t want to make it worse.”

     Son of a bitch, Zoë mouths without making a noise. Dean notices her expression and shakes his head himself. He could give Laura credit for what she did to her father, but this has to stop now before it spins out of control.      “Mrs. Shire, I know this is tough, but we need to know where Laura’s body is,” he confronts her.      She sniffles. “She - she’s buried at Linwood Cemetery.”      “No, she’s not,” Zoë immediately cuts in.

     Bewildered, the woman opposite of them glances from Zoë to Dean. The huntress can see from the look upon her face that this time, she genuinely doesn’t have a clue what they are talking about. As Zoë observes her response, another theory starts evolving in her head; what if Laura’s mother never knew about the body swap? What if she thought that she really buried her daughter at Linwood Cemetery? Maybe the only people who knew about the switch were Ronald Shire and Dr. Hughes.      “Where else would she be?” Mrs. Shire utters, staggered.      “Don’t play tricks on us,” Dean warns.      “Dean, wait,” Zoë interrupts. “Was the coffin ever open during the ceremony?”      The hunter looks over his shoulder; just like Mrs. Shire he seems disoriented. The only man in their company gives her a questioning look; where is she going with this?      “No, Ron insisted it was closed. Why?” Mrs. Shire replies.      Zoë sighs deeply and rubs her face, then she turns to the woman in front of her again.      “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Laura was never buried in Linwood Cemetery.”

     Overwhelmed, Laura’s mother stares at the young woman in her living room. That’s truthbomb number three they just dropped on the widow who also lost her child. Mrs. Shire is being hit in the face with information that is almost impossible to digest, and it is starting to show.      “W-what? But - but I stood at her coffin at the funeral. I - I visit her grave every day,” she whimpers. “Where is she? Where’s my Laura?”

     Damn good question, Dean realizes. But he also knows that if Mrs. Shire doesn’t have a clue where her daughter is, they might be on a very dead end, literally.

     “We believe she’s in the lake. We hoped you could tell us where exactly,” Zoë admits disappointedly.      Out of pure desperation, the woman huffs and looks away. Dean can see she’s about to break, and decides to fill in the blank lines for the poor mother. Having answers is usually more comforting than being left in the dark.

     “We believe your husband and a friend inside the hospital switched Laura’s body with a Jane Doe of the same age, because Ronald was afraid someone might start talking and kick off an investigation,” he explains. “He could forge documents and her medical records as Chief of staff, but if this had become a case, forensics would’ve noticed the many healed breaks and injuries that are consistant with child abuse if they had found Laura’s actual remains. He would’ve faced jail time.”

     “I can’t believe this is happening,” Mrs. Shire whispers, covering her mouth with a shaking hand. Unable to swallow back the tears, the poor woman glances at Dean, a question dawning on her. “If - if what you just said about Laura’s… ‘ghost’ is true, why didn’t she tell you where her body is?”      “Laura isn’t exactly cooperative,” he tries to explain. “She doesn’t want to be found. The hate and frustration she feels right now is driving her to get to the people who never helped her, while they could have.”

     “The murders, first Ronald, then her principal Mr. Van Dyke, after that her teacher and a colleague of your husband, about two hours ago. They all knew about her situation, but in one way or another failed to do anything about it. Laura’s taking revenge for that,” Zoë fills in.      “She would never do that. She’s ten, she’s not capable of murdering people,” her mother claims in disgrace.      “I think she’s more than capable of violence, after what her father did to her,” Dean brings to mind.

     “As a spirit, she doesn’t think or act rationally anymore. All she feels is rage, sadness, and frustration. She’s out of control. That’s why we have to find her and stop her. Otherwise you and your son will be in danger,” Zoë tells her.      “She’ll…” Scared blue eyes dart up at the huntress. “She’ll come after us?”      “You listened, you saw, but you didn’t act,” Zoë says, harshly yet truthful. “You didn’t stop it.”

     For a moment, Mrs. Shire is able to hold the young woman’s gaze, but before Zoë’s eyes, the mirage of the perfect mother begins to falter. What started the day when Ronald struck his wife the first time and escalated when Laura lost her life, has left this family in ruins. The middle-aged woman begins to quiver, unable to keep her emotions at bay, and breaks down completely.

     Zoë, not being the most patient of the three hunters, looks down on the woman who did nothing, and yet had such a big part to play in Laura’s violent death. Although she sympathizes with her, the tears aren’t helping anyone. Time is ticking and they have nothing besides a lake the size of multiple football fields.      Also growing slightly impatient, but able to hide it, Dean gives it one last try. “Don’t you have any idea where he might have hidden her? Any clue at all?”      “I know where she is.”

     Surprised, the older Winchester looks over the back of the couch while Zoë turns around, both facing a young boy. He’s about thirteen years old and has blonde hair, with the same blue eyes as his mother. Sam’s standing behind him, a hand on his shoulder.      “Tom? What are you talking about, honey?” his mother asks, concerned, trying to compose herself in front of her son.

     He looks up at Sam, who puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, you can tell her now,” he ensures.      Anxious, he turns back to his mother and takes a moment before he starts talking. But when he does, he stuns each and everyone in the room.      “That night, when Laura…” He swallows apprehensively and takes a breath, then continues. “I saw Dad at the lake. He rowed the boat out and dropped a big bag in the water. When he came back, I pretended I was sleeping.”

     Astounded, Dean and Zoë take in the brave little kid, who just stepped forward and gave them the break they were desperately looking for. An eye-witness, one whose voice was taken away by years of seeing so much brutality, that it left him petrified whenever he came close to telling. All this time, the little fellow knew, but couldn’t speak, knowing that he could quite possibly suffer the same fate as his sister.

     “Oh, Tommy…” Mrs. Shire whimpers, as she walks up to him.      The mother folds her arms around her son, who hugs her back while tears start rolling down his cheeks.      “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Mom,” he cries, holding her tight. “I knew Dad would have been furious if I had.”      “It’s okay now. Don’t worry, it’s alright,” she whispers while laying her hand over the top of his head, caressing his hair softly, yet she is barely able to hold it together herself.

      The three hunters exchange a look, silent witnesses to the embrace, the last shards of this family mended before them. The truth has been revealed, offering them a strong chance to solve this case. They need more details, though, and the only one who can provide them, is Tommy.      Zoë concentrates on the young boy, once he slips from his mother’s arms. “Tom, do you remember how far your father went out?” she asks, kindly.      “Not that far, he didn’t pass the goose nests,” the teenager tells her.

     They remembers the birds on the lake. Good, they have a marked area now, something to go on. Zoë straightens her back and glances at the boys.      “Seems like we are taking a swim,” she comments.      “You’re going to bring her to the surface?” Mrs. Shire swallows with difficulty, both upset and relieved that they might be doing so.      “It’s the only way we can lay her to rest,” Sam answers.

     “There’s diving equipment in the boathouse. Tom and Ron used to swim in that lake all summer,” she offers.      “Thanks, that might come in handy,” Zoë takes it as she checks her watch. “It’s gonna be completely dark in about a half an hour.”      “Okay then.” Dean sets his shoulders, glancing between his brother and Zoë. As much as he likes a good hunt, he’s not fond of the fact that he’s on the menu of this nasty little spirit. Seems like they will be done with this case by tonight, though. With strong words he finishes.      “Let’s do this.”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page). 

Read chapter fourteen here

[itsclydebitches]

(cont.) 2. If anything, Ironwood erred toward compassion. He shouldn't have released/trusted RWBY, but he did. He didn't have to evacuate Mantle (infiltration risk) but he did. He could've declared martial law earlier, since he knew the city/Council was compromised (he didn't, and it cost him). He could've recalled important people to Atlas (eg Pietro) instead of letting them help Mantle (conservation of scarce resources). And as you said, he shouldn't have told people about Salem. (cont.)

I’m so sorry, anon, I seem to be missing part one here. I don’t know if I accidentally deleted it at some point or if tumblr just ate it :/

But under the general subject of “RWBY failed to give Ironwood a truly callous response to these circumstances and thus far there are no ‘good’ plans here,” I’ve honestly been surprised by the number of fans emphasizing how (supposedly) useless Ironwood’s plan is in the long run. I’ve read through long breakdowns about how even if they’re high enough to escape the grimm they’d be unable to sustain themselves and everyone would eventually starve. With the takeaway being, “Ironwood’s plan kills Atlas in the long run so he’s more heartless for abandoning Mantle than we originally thought, since that sacrifice won’t even save a portion of the population in the end.” However, ignoring that this is a massive conclusion based on RWBY’s incredibly flimsy world building (I don’t think we know enough about Atlas to prove one way or the other whether the city could live self-sufficiently up in the sky/for how long), these responses are missing the point. Ironwood is buying time. He’s retreating to regroup. Not to fight Salem then and there because, you know, immortality - a lot of fans are also insisting that a retreat is only a valid option if he turns around and re-enters this specific battle - but rather to fight her in the long term. Days, weeks, months, even years later. He’s trying to ensure that his top fighters, two relics, a Maiden, and at least a portion of his people are out of Salem’s reach so that they can find a more hopeful solution down the road. It doesn’t matter whether Ironwood could only keep the Atlesian people alive for a month, or a week, or just three days. The point is that those three days are more time to think and strategize than they currently have with Salem literally on their doorstep. I think that’s why we don’t see a more complicated plan like the one you’ve laid out above: that takes at least a bit of time to think through, conceptualize, and weigh against other options. Ironwood heard out of nowhere that Salem had appeared, while in the middle of three other emergencies (heat down, grimm attacking, Salem’s men on the loose) and had to come up with a plan in a matter of seconds. Obviously we, the viewers, will always be able to come up with something “better” with months of time to think it over, in the safety of our homes. But retreating would provide some of that much needed space/time for everyone to think. Retreating might encourage Salem to back off if she can no longer access what she came for. Retreating will allow the group to recover, regain their aura, prepare for another fight. If Atlas is truly safe up there maybe the relics can stay while the people head back down, keeping them continually out of Salem’s reach. Even if they’re not safe limiting the grimm army to just the flying grimm is already a boost. Maybe with even an hour of time where they’re not fighting for their lives someone could come up with a plan. It’s true that we don’t know for sure what would come of buying time, but no one is going to find out what possibilities might be made into reality if Ironwood isn’t allowed to try. 

To simplify things with another wonky comparison, pretend some evil supernatural killer has broken into your home. They’re blocking access upstairs to where a bunch of your friends are and you have no way to reach them. If you try to attack this creature you die. If you try to sneak past it you die. No one has come up with a solution that allows everyone to make it out of the house alive and the chances of death aren’t just high, they’re nearly guaranteed. How do you fight a creature that just reforms every time you do damage? How do you defeat them and protect your friends? No one has figured out an answer. Ironwood is the one going, “The back door is open! It’s horrific that we can’t get the people upstairs but we need to go. Head into the wood where maybe this creature won’t be able to find us. If we escape we might be able to figure out a way to still save some of our friends before they all perish. If we escape we’re going to keep this Magical Relic safe that’s potentially the key to defeating this creature in the long run, saving the whole world. At the very least we’ll survive and isn’t that better than all of us perishing?” 

Team RWBY are the ones insisting that the only heroic option is to charge the creature head on. We don’t leave friends behind. Noble, but a death sentence - and one that does damage to the overall war (it’s not just a personal self-sacrifice). They’re also locking the back door to make sure Ironwood and others who might want to escape have to stay and fight with them, all while knocking out four allies for trying to get them to stand down. 

Meanwhile, a good portion of the fandom is going, “Ironwood wants to run into the woods? That’s absurd. You can’t survive in the woods! They’ll get lost. They’ll starve. There are other creatures out there that I’m sure would kill them even though we’ve never heard about such creatures before. This isn’t a good long-term option.”  

But it’s not meant to be a long-term option. It’s meant to be the one option that might a) keep them alive in the short term and b) allows them to come up with a plan. Any plan at this point. To still save some of Mantle. Or keep the relics safe. Or help ensure that the 1,000 year attempt to defeat Salem doesn’t end here and now. Something to make this situation a little less horrible. 

That’s not coldblooded pragmatism. It’s common sense in the face of noble heroics. Team RWBY should be commended for their bravery and their devotion to the people of Mantle (even though they didn’t care about the people while stringing Ironwood along...), but that doesn’t mean what they’re doing is smart. They know about this war. They know that their decisions are so much bigger than themselves and the immediate problems in front of them. They know there’s a long-term to think about, but so far they haven’t demonstrated any willingness to take that into consideration. It wouldn’t be so bad if the story just framed this around their trauma - some in the group literally can’t leave people behind after the death of Pyrrha - but insisting that this is the only Good and Smart solution here doesn’t work. 

[renaroo]

Some Times (Time and Time Again) (8/8)

Disclaimer: Booster Gold, Blue Beetle, and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Canon shaken not stirred, Heavy canon references to Booster Gold (2009-2011) and Blue Beetle (2016-2018) Pairings: Boostle Rating: T Synopsis: Booster Gold and the rest of the Time Masters are still straightening up things in the wake of the most recent universal Rebirth. But Rip Hunter is still missing in the aftermath, leaving Booster in charge with Skeets, Michelle, and Rani. But there’s a distraction for Booster, one he can’t keep himself from ignoring.

Ted Kord, miraculously, is still alive. And that makes everything more complicated than Michael could have ever imagined.

A/N: We’re finally here! After such a long wait, we’ve finally come to the end of this fic. It’s been a wild ride, fueled at the end here by quarantine and anxiety, but I really have loved writing this story. I adore these characters, miss the Time Family in the comics, and hope I did them justice in this story. I hope it is something enjoyable for all of you, too.

As we wrap up this long journey, I absolutely must thank all of you for coming along with me. And, of course, a wonderful and appreciative thank you to @babybatbrat, @spiralcass, @shibascarf, @mcbangle, gaymage, Schw0099, GeorginaNadia, @secretlystephaniebrown, and arouraleona for your lovely comments and supportive words <3 I appreciate them so very much!

Michael Jon Carter

Booster Gold is not new to being a superhero.

He’s been there and seen that. His current “job” interview was him watching the rebirth of the multiverse after a giant mind-controlling worm tore everything to hell. He fought with the bravest and greatest men and women he ever met against the monster that killed Superman. He actually got to confess his feelings and act with them for the friend that he couldn’t stop from dying years beforehand. 

And he is still unprepared for the twists and turns before him now. 

From underneath a metal I-beam, Michael Jon Carter stares in silence at the shimmering black metal of Black Beetle. He heard Rani’s accusation, but what is more deafening is what comes after.

Black Beetle stands in silence rather than correct her. 

Ted, on his back still behind Rani, looks around multiple times before squinting at Black Beetle. “What’s a Boppy?” he asks cluelessly.

“Nothing,” Black Beetle insists, scooping forward and grabbing Rani’s wrist before retching her away from his line of fire. “Not anymore.”

A wild spark of protectiveness takes possession of Booster as he realizes what’s about to happen. Even with the pounding in his chest and ears ever-growing -- god, Rani can’t be right, she can’t -- he knows he has to save Ted first and foremost. He pushes and shoves at the heavy metal laying across him when it rather unexpectedly gives way.

Blinking in surprise, Booster glances over and sees Michelle across the other side of the lab near the transporter platform. She’s weary, but her hand is reaching forward outstretched toward the I-beam, using her suit’s magnetism.

“Mike, go!” she coughs out. 

His family, his loved ones, are all in pain around him, and Booster can’t figure out a way to heal all of it outside of the most direct way first.

Clenching his fist, Booster flings himself forward with the force of his flight ring. He tackles into Black Beetle’s waist and takes him into the nearest wall before he can fire at Ted. 

Then, before either himself or the time-traveling menace can catch their breath again, they are enclosed in a thick bubble produced by the forcefield belt.

“Boost!” “Mikey!” “Michael!” muffled yells cry from outside.

For the moment, Booster ignores them, pushing up to his feet one foot at a time. He can feel a trickle of blood down from his nose yet again, but he ignores it, focusing instead as Black Beetle stands back up. 

“You think you can keep me trapped in here, Gold?” he snarls.

“I don’t know, it worked for Guy Gardner before,” Booster only half jests. He stands tall, meeting Black Beetle eye to eye. “And like it or not, he has a lantern ring. Is that blaster stronger than the most powerful tool in the universe?”

Black Beetle snarls and begins to readjust his suit’s weaponry. “Then I’ll take that belt off of you and free us both.”

“Maybe,” Booster admits, “but you should at least answer some questions for me first.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Black Beetle growls. 

“Yeah? So sure about that?” Booster taunts, stabbing a finger at Black Beetle’s armored chest. “Is Rani right? Is whoever is inside that black tin can Rip Hunter?” He squinted at the little exposed face he could see and felt a sickening lurch in his stomach. “Are you my missing friend?”

“You and Rip Hunter were never friends,” Black Beetle says coldly.

“We were friends to me,” Booster says gently. He searches Beetle’s face and feels his chest clench. “Rip. C’mon, Rip. It’s you. Please, just. Take the helmet down. I haven’t seen you in months. Years, it feels like.”

For a moment, there is no response from Black Beetle at all. He stands, stoically, nose to nose with Booster before tipping his head down. All at once, his armor responds, cryptically unfolding and reforming away from his head regressing back into the torso of the suit. 

Booster sets his jaw, his heart still aching at the reveal no matter how much Booster attempted to prepare himself. 

Rip Hunter’s face is unmistakable, from his firm brow to the stern lines of his jaw. His hair is returned to the dirty blonde, no longer dyed or shaded as Rip has taken to. But, what is not the same, is the haunting glow that now envelops his eyes. It permeates out around him, rotating in a colorful display of the rainbow lights Booster has become so familiar with from the timestream. 

“What’s happening?” Booster demands immediately. “You wouldn’t do all of this without a reason, you wouldn’t… None of this would be happening unless Rip Hunter had a good reason. No matter how crazy he is. You are. Whatever. What I’m trying to say is...” Booster looks down to his hands which seem to be shrugging back at him in confusion before he throws them up in defeat. “What the actual fuck!?”

Scowling at him in a way that only Rip Hunter can, Black Beetle glares back into Booster’s face. “I am doing what Rip Hunter always must do -- correct the timestream, preserve events, make the tough choices.”

“Were you always Black Beetle?” Booster asks. “Either you need an Oscar or Rip -- my Rip -- didn’t know anything about this when you first showed up.”

“A Rip Hunter is always Black Beetle,” he answers cryptically.

“You really are Rip, because only Rip can make me that infuriated in a sentence,” Booster groans, rubbing a hand across his face only to flinch at the pain from his nose. “Why are you trying to kill Ted? Time has changed -- you yourself used to talk about it being fluid! Everything’s stable! Ted doesn’t have to die to save the universe!”

“He has to die for Rip Hunter to exist, that is obvious!” Black Beetle snarls, the chronal energy beginning to shine through even his mouth. “Each moment takes me closer to being rewritten, closer to impermanence! And without me there will be no protection for time itself! The universe will never survive!” 

“Wow, you egotistical jackass, I’m right here!” Booster shouts back, gesturing to himself wildly. “You trained me! And I wasn’t going to sit back and let you disappear before I knew you were going to have this chronal temper tantrum, and I’m definitely not going to do it now! Give me some credit.”

“You will be too content to see me come to existence,” Rip declares, beginning to fold in on himself, his body convulsing in a seizure that was all too familiar to Booster after his own bout of chronal leprosy. “I will never come to be.”

“What a terrible thing to think of your family,” Booster jokes gently, moving to catch Rip’s now bulking shoulders. He falls to his knees on the floor with him.

“You don’t even know how much family we are,” Rip chokes out. “You may never know.”

Booster’s chest clenches at that and he presses his forehead to Rip’s. “I think, buddy, I’ve got a clue,” he remarks gently. “You’re sick and you’re not thinking straight, Rip. And if you think you’re not coming into existence in this universe, you’re so wrong it’s laughable. Really! When you’re old enough, I’m going to give you such shit for it. The great Rip Hunter, bested by Booster Gold.”

“Bested by Michael Carter,” Rip says weakly back, his skin beginning to crack and shed chronal light more and more. The crevices of his suit shine brightly with it. “Will you promise? To make sure?”

“Of course, Rip,” Booster says, leaning back and away far enough to look fully into Rip’s face. “I’m good on my word to my family. Always.”

He waits, watching as Rip and Black Beetle in one disappear before his very eyes, pieces of chronal energy breaking up bit by bit and folding in on itself, disappearing from visible existence as if it were never there. Michael clutches his fists and tightly squeezes his eyes together as his chin drops to his chest. A surge of emotions he hasn’t let himself feel for Rip rush through him at once. 

After a long breath, he lowers his field and releases a long sigh. 

“Chalk that one down,” he says miserably, barely glancing over his shoulder at the three standing in shocked silence behind him. 

“Chalk what down, Boost?” Ted bothers to utter as Michelle and Rani hug and let tears run down their faces. 

“Well,” Booster sighs, pushing up to his feet, “I promised whenever he’s reborn and old enough, I’m going to give him shit for being wrong for once. That is a father-son promise that absolutely I am going to keep.”

He’s wobbly in his knees as he steps over to Ted and the others, but he tries his best not to show it. He’s already feeling weak in a lot of other ways and he doesn’t feel like letting any of them show. 

Ted is banged up and holding onto his right shoulder rather tenderly. But his face is more concerned than pained. 

“Are you okay?” Ted asks.

“Of course not,” Michael answers back. “You?”

“I’m, honestly, really confused,” Ted says, scratching at the back of his head. “But I’m also, just, really glad. Glad’s a weird way to be right now, isn’t it? I mean I’m relieved. Nope, not any better. I’m, uh. I’m…”

For just a moment, Booster raises a finger to hush Ted and tilts his body enough to look Michelle and Rani’s ways. 

“Girls? Are you guys going to be okay?” he asks tiredly.

“Yeah,” Shel answers, wiping at her eyes with the hand not gripped by Rani. “I-I’ll be okay.”

Rani nods, sniffling. “Boppy’ll be back. So I’m okay.”

Nodding, Booster takes a breath and then immediately slings his arms around Ted’s shoulders and pulls him into a full-body hug. “This is the weirdest, wildest, dumbest reunion of all time, but I don’t want you to ever doubt that…” he looks ahead, searching for his words. He blinks in distraction. “Don’t… want you to…” 

Holding Ted and arm's length, Booster stares ahead at Skeets and, more specifically, at the chalkboard just behind Skeet’s floating form.

Where before Ted Kord is KEY was written by itself, there is now a giant checkmark

“That… That dramatic son of a bitch!” Michael cries out, forgetting his weariness to stomp over to the board and examine. “He’s-- He does exist in this universe and has been writing on the board! The whole time! He could have-- why did he want--”

“Michael,” Michelle clears her throat before stiffly nodding her head toward Ted. “Maybe he… needed to make sure… things happened.”

Ted, for his part, looks utterly lost. 

“Come here,” Booster groans, reaching over to grab Ted’s wrist and yanking him close before planting a kiss to his cheek. 

“God, you could just ask me to take a few steps forward,” Ted chuckles into Booster’s skin.

He then grabs Michelle and Rani and pulls them all close.  “My family is all here,” he says confidently. “Even if one’s hiding out in the timestream like a jackass right now.”

“Language, Michael, really,” Michelle says with no heat to her words at all.

“And I’m always going to do what’s right for all of you,” he promises. 

They hug him back, every bit of his body held close by the people he loves most in the world at that moment in time. 

Then another I-beam falls ten feet ahead of them causing them all to jump and yell in surprise. 

“Okay,” Booster says, slow and drawn out. “What’s best for our family next step is probably fixing this place up before doing any other time shenanigans because I think I’ve put that off for about as long as the old Lab’s going to take it.”

“Well, not to brag,” Ted says before reaching up and pulling his goggles down over his eyes, “but I’m actually kind of a genius with labs.”

Booster feels his face melt into an affectionate smile, looking over Ted so fondly. “I know.”

“Ew, is this what love looks like,” Rani says, sticking out her tongue.

“Come here you,” Booster laughs, grabbing her sides and pulling her into a bear hug so that he can nuzzle her neck while she struggles and shrilly giggles. He flinches and lets go to check on his nose.

“You deserve that, brother-o’-mine,” Shel baps him on the head.

Ted, though, is on his knees and holding out his hands to study the bandage over Booster’s nose instead. He smirks and shakes his head. “You do know that promise goes both ways, right?” he asks, gently putting his hands over Booster’s. “I’ll do anything that’s best for you, too.”

“I know,” Booster says.

He knows there’s a lot of work still left to do, and that this new universe has a lot of things left to fix, but he feels in his soul more than he ever has before that on the track they’re on, there’s no place he’d rather be in that moment. For once, he can’t wait to see what the future might bring.

[asheewrites]

‘Archangel Interference’

When his messenger burst into his throne room to tell him about an ‘archangel interference’ Asmodeus had not expected such a peaceful and, frankly, normal setting.

With a suspicious glance he walked into the building this ‘awful menace’ was supposed to currently reside in.

If asked, he would see himself a patron of this fine establishment of carnal pleasures. His last visit had been some time, with all the commotions, but it seemed to hold up its standards. It was well attended, clean, soaked in perfect lighting, dancers’ dress code leaving just enough to the imagination, music the right tone and perfect conversation-allowing, but -concealing volume. Every detail he could see did have his approval, right down to the sly smiles and muted greetings of the staff.

Yet the mood was… off.

The guests did not leer at the passing waitresses, their attention not on the stage, money in – and soon out of – hand, no, they were distracted. A person in the last third of the room caught their attention.

No wonder. They stuck out like a sore thumb.

Asmodeus’ suspicions gave way to an amused annoyance. This particular archangel would not harm a single hair on anyone’s head. Disrupting business on the other hand?

Somewhat curious, he ambled over to the holy presence and listened.

“-happens then, miss Serafina?” Raphael asked the lady on his lap.

She looked, at this point, mildly distressed: “What… what do you even mean?!”

His thumbs ran circles on her exposed hipbone and he held her securely on his lap. They were close enough to draw every kind of conclusion – anyone could, since one had the ethereal beauty of a literal angel and the other was an exceptionally beautiful lady. He answered: “Well… I am supposed to get close. Be gentle. Be caring. Pay attention. Ask permission. Hold eye contact when using the permission – checking for negative reactions I suppose? Give a sense of security and trust. Also be steady and calm and confident. Also removing articles of clothing. Touching the naked skin. Which is very pleasant… for a variety of reasons. So. Okay. We got that. What happens now?” He said.

Her distress didn’t lessen. A frown started to form: “What do you mean what happens now? This- this is a perfectly legal establishment, you can’t-“

Regret and guilt were clearly displayed on the angel’s face, his hands flew off her hips to be held up in worried surrender: “Oh no, miss!” he said, leaning a bit back to make his lap secure without his hands supporting her, “I didn’t mean to do anything, but you might be able to tell me! See, I wish to learn how this properly works and so I thought this is the best place, because the staff here has the most experience! I- I mean!” Distress creeped onto his face as well. “I mean! Not with the people here! Nothing illegal! And I just… I thought… I-”

“Good evening, Raphael,” Asmodeus took the last step to reach them, “I am so sorry to interrupt, but staff called for your companions’ presence. They sounded rather urgent. You are ‘Serafina’, yes?”

The lady’s general confusion slowly turned to the new arrival and then much faster to the stage: “Oh! The next performance!”, she got up and curtsied, “I hope you can forgive me, sir, but we forgot the time and- I really should-“

“Oh, yes, perfectly fine!”, Raphael’s hands waved slightly, “Good luck! I am sure the performance will teach me even more!” And his smile was back. It really was an angel’s smile. All pure and honest and believable.

She departed and Raphael started to fuzz a little, staring at his lap, rubbing his knuckles together, smile dimmed. Feeling guilty, most likely. As if he was capable of a malicious thought.

“Want to watch from one of the cabins?” Asmodeus said, indicating the stairs leading up to one.

“Mh?” the angel looked up, plain to see he had forgotten who else was present, “Oh!”

Before the distress could spread further on his face, Asmodeus said: “Come on, she wouldn’t have noticed you in these shadows anyway, you know how eyes work,” and turned around, walking towards the place he couldn’t disturb the customers anymore.

The angel followed after a few seconds. Almost stumbled over the chair, but found his composure before he fell of the stairs.

The curtain closed behind them and, of course, Raphael spoke before they could even sit down: “Asmodeus… Sir? This… was a lucky time to intervene… so, I don’t want to be unthankful, really, but… ah… hello? Greetings? And ah.. what are you doing on Earth?”

“But you are. Right now,” said Asmodeus and seated himself on the half-round sofa. The backrest was just high enough to give support and just low enough to ‘innocently’ place an arm around someone, comfortable, too. He really could approve of this establishment. When Raphael looked confused, he clarified: “… unthankful, that is”

It was too easy to rile the angel up, him wearing his heart on his sleeve: “Oh! But I thought it was coincidence and-“

“- it’s perfectly fine, Raphael. But take a seat before your interrogation. Get comfortable. Stress is not this places’ purpose” – and with that, he sat down. Predictably on the other side of the sofa, all stiff and nervous, eyes running everywhere. The exact opposite of the confident posture with ‘Serafina’.

“I apologize. I will try to remember and… try to be better about this. Relaxing. But am I not supposed to be nervous around you? Demon? Leader of Hell? Actual authority and all? I’m sure I was warned by-”

“-no one, because these things are not discussed. Considering where we are” Before the angel shrunk in on himself again, Asmodeus continued: “Speaking of which… what are you doing here? Assuming it can be talked about?” He had an idea, but a confirmation might be… interesting.

Raphael blinked. Then frowned: “Didn’t I ask y-,” his eyes got round, “Right. Not talking about it here! Yes. Ah. I? Well. I came here to learn. See. Gabriel is a very interesting and attractive lady and I think I am doing everything right? Like… everything works and things, but I think I… I’m doing something wrong? Somehow? I know I’m not, but… well. I thought they could explain it to me… with the experience and all,” there was a pause, “With sex, I mean! I think that was clear? But maybe it wasn’t. So. I mean that” And he nodded. And looked exclusively at Asmodeus’ eyes, waiting stiffly for an answer.

A slow smile spread on his face eyes narrowed slightly: “So, you are looking for an expert. Why didn’t you say so.”

Raphael’s eyes followed Asmodeus’ hand as he opened the second button of his shirt. Lingered there, too, before he blinked rapidly and focused on the eyes again: “But… I thought I just did? I… yes. I look for an expert”

“You are in luck. Since I am, objectively, the expert in those matters that trouble you so,” said Asmodeus, smoothing his hair out, straightening his clothing one more time, Raphael’s eyes following every movement as if called upon.

The angel took a few moments to take in outfit and posture, then blinked and reassumed eye-contact: “Ah… well, yes? But I can’t ask… your time… well… yes, that is true, you would be the objectively best teacher, but your schedule is-“

“-tightly packed, yes. But, as you know, a bit of variety is necessary to stay sharp and healthy… isn’t that right, doctor?” This was almost too easy. And amusing. Well, maybe not for the angel…

Then Raphael looked away, face slightly scrunching up and said: “Yeah, I know, unlike other patients in my care that-“

“-should not be discussed around here?” Around him, actually. It got a lot better, but no. They met when heaven’s and hell’s leaders had to meet and that’s enough. For now.

“Err-,” and Raphael looked like a mess again.

“No worries. Since your girlfriend shouldn’t be discussed either. But I do owe her for distracting me from work not too long ago. I think it counts if I teach you a little something or two”

‘Rightfully offended was a good look on the angel, but Asmodeus needed to cut it short by simply laughing and said: “Raphael. Don’t look so scandalized. We are both happily spoken for. Our clothes will stay on at all times. And while Gabe has no reason to be unhappy, I haven’t gone for ‘cute’ in quite a while”

Raphael raised a finger, took a breath… and then put it down again, confused frown in place.

The angel really was cute.  

“So, we are agreed? I pay back a favour, your thirst of knowledge will be quenched?” Asmodeus still smiled, now directly at Raphael.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that smile: “Err… I… uh… I guess? I mean… you also don’t want… so… If nothing happens? It’s fine? I think? Sooo… you will explain it to me? Do I need a notepad? I think I have one! Somewhere in the bag and-“

“Raph. It’s fine. Really. I’ll ask before I do anything. Sometimes ask you to do something, so no, no notepad, you need your hands. And it’s nothing complicated. Relax. It’s important. Deep breath” Asmodeus hasn’t moved an inch. Just lounging and smiling.

With a flurry of movement on the other side. Putting his bag on the floor and looking Asmodeus up and down. Apparently really unsure what to expect. But the deep breath he took seemed to help. His shoulders, at least, relaxed.

“Very good!”, Asmodeus nodded approvingly, “So. We start with what you know. And thankfully. That is a lot,” Raphael relaxed some more ”You know all biological facts about the whole thing, right?  Everything that happens. Every sensitive spot, every muscle, every inch of skin. You know what happens when you touch any part. Yes?”

The angel thought for a moment, then nodded: “Also all the hormones. What happens in the brain and in other parts of the body. Or… I mean… what is suppose-“

“Right” – that had been a full sentence! Angel got better before drifting off, now he was silent again – “What usually happens. And we try to take away the thing that keeps you from it”

“…ah… yes. Yes, we try. But you still didn’t tell me how… or what…?” Said the angel.

“We get there. So, do you know the humans say ‘You must feel a fact to believe it’?” while saying that, Asmodeus sat up, leaning forward.

Raphael did the same, a little more hesitantly and said: “Uh… I… suppose some of them say it? Yes? I know?”

“Good. I hope you also know that it’s true. You can know a lot of things. But if you never experienced it… it’s pointless,” Asmodeus lifted his hand, as if to present the point.

Raphael followed the hand with his eyes and reached out before putting it down and said: “I… don’t get it. The facts are… not enough? But I know they are true”

“Yes. You do. But you don’t know how it feels” – here he ran the fingertips of one hand over the palm of the other, just gracing over the skin, then he held the hand out.

Raphael watched him… and started to reach out, fixated on the outstretched hand. Just before he caught himself and pulled back, frowning: “Err… but I do. I know. It’s a very light thing. And I get lots of information out of it, affirming them. But I already *know*. It just confirms it”

“True. But you do not know how I will react. And it’s just different when you really feel it, isn’t it?”

“Well, I will not touch you without permission. And if you offered… then I know you would just… let me touch your hand. So… again. I do know?” He frowned properly now.

Asmodeus smile turned wider… and he turned his hands up in a proper shrug: “Fine, then. Lets try! Touch me”

The angel recoiled: “Err… I can’t… we agreed that-“

Another laugh to ease the tension, then: “Raphael, I trust you to stick to our agreement. No inappropriate touches, so, go ahead, doctor”

Still confused, Raphael reached towards the originally offered arm, his shoulders, the other arm… but moved back every time, just his frown deepened: “I… what is inappropriate? You aren’t hurt. I shouldn’t be touching you anywhere when you aren’t hurt”

“Heh. Okay” – Asmodeus held his hand out – “Here. I promise nothing terrible will happen. Touch all you want. It’s appropriate”

With suspicious looks from hand to face and back, Raphael carefully grasped Asmodeus hand and… looked. First with his eyes… and then gave up the suspicion and ‘looked’ with his hands, fascinated and always very careful, moving along the lines of his palm, feeling the joints, the knuckles, curiously looking at every inch

Meanwhile, a grinning Asmodeus propped up his chin on his not-groped hand and waited until the angel noticed what he was doing.

It took almost five minutes.

Then Raphael jerked back his hands, frowned and looked at the grin in front of him: “What? You said I should touch you”

“Mmmmhmh. I said to touch as much as you wanted,” Asmodeus raised one brow while saying that, still grinning.

“I- Well. I did. So. Your hands are fine. Well cared for. Good hands?” – he looked entirely too confused.

“So, do you want to touch more?” he said, and pulled back his hand to prop his chin on the other. He offered the other one.

“I… it’s not necessary?” – the angel said and stared at the hand.

“That’s not what I asked?”

“Well. Fine, yes, I do. Happy?!” That was pure angelic frustration, at least it sounded like it.

“Mmmmh, would you be if I allowed?” Asmodeus raised the other brow.

And Raphael finally lost scrunched up eyebrows and looked plain confused when he managed to blush slightly and said: “Maybe? It’s nice? Yes? Please? Maybe?”

This marked the third time Asmodeus laughed. And he got up, leaned down to the angel’s level and ruffled his hair: “That’s how it feels to want to touch someone. The ‘sex thing’ is a bit more than that. But baby steps. That’s the lesson for today”

Raphael reached for the hand on his head. Then peered upwards when it left his now messy strands: “But…”

“… you felt it now, you’ll believe it soon enough. And I? I have a packed schedule. Get home, too. You won’t learn anything else, here.” Asmodeus waved. “See you around”

And with that. He was gone. And the angel he left was at the same time more and less confused.

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

I borrowed the most understanding demon in existence from the loveliest @mercuryreddie. At least that’s what I would assume he would do ^^;

And Gabriel, the most understanding girlfriend from @angeloftheeasterngate Same applies here :)

[megashadowdragon]

(cont.) 2. If anything, Ironwood erred toward compassion. He shouldn't have released/trusted RWBY, but he did. He didn't have to evacuate Mantle (infiltration risk) but he did. He could've declared martial law earlier, since he knew the city/Council was compromised (he didn't, and it cost him). He could've recalled important people to Atlas (eg Pietro) instead of letting them help Mantle (conservation of scarce resources). And as you said, he shouldn't have told people about Salem. (cont.)

itsclydebitches: 

I’m so sorry, anon, I seem to be missing part one here. I don’t know if I accidentally deleted it at some point or if tumblr just ate it :/

But under the general subject of “RWBY failed to give Ironwood a truly callous response to these circumstances and thus far there are no ‘good’ plans here,” I’ve honestly been surprised by the number of fans emphasizing how (supposedly) useless Ironwood’s plan is in the long run. I’ve read through long breakdowns about how even if they’re high enough to escape the grimm they’d be unable to sustain themselves and everyone would eventually starve. With the takeaway being, “Ironwood’s plan kills Atlas in the long run so he’s more heartless for abandoning Mantle than we originally thought, since that sacrifice won’t even save a portion of the population in the end.” However, ignoring that this is a massive conclusion based on RWBY’s incredibly flimsy world building (I don’t think we know enough about Atlas to prove one way or the other whether the city could live self-sufficiently up in the sky/for how long), these responses are missing the point. Ironwood is buying time. He’s retreating to regroup. Not to fight Salem then and there because, you know, immortality - a lot of fans are also insisting that a retreat is only a valid option if he turns around and re-enters this specific battle - but rather to fight her in the long term. Days, weeks, months, even years later. He’s trying to ensure that his top fighters, two relics, a Maiden, and at least a portion of his people are out of Salem’s reach so that they can find a more hopeful solution down the road. It doesn’t matter whether Ironwood could only keep the Atlesian people alive for a month, or a week, or just three days. The point is that those three days are more time to think and strategize than they currently have with Salem literally on their doorstep. I think that’s why we don’t see a more complicated plan like the one you’ve laid out above: that takes at least a bit of time to think through, conceptualize, and weigh against other options. Ironwood heard out of nowhere that Salem had appeared, while in the middle of three other emergencies (heat down, grimm attacking, Salem’s men on the loose) and had to come up with a plan in a matter of seconds. Obviously we, the viewers, will always be able to come up with something “better” with months of time to think it over, in the safety of our homes. But retreating would provide some of that much needed space/time for everyone to think. Retreating might encourage Salem to back off if she can no longer access what she came for. Retreating will allow the group to recover, regain their aura, prepare for another fight. If Atlas is truly safe up there maybe the relics can stay while the people head back down, keeping them continually out of Salem’s reach. Even if they’re not safe limiting the grimm army to just the flying grimm is already a boost. Maybe with even an hour of time where they’re not fighting for their lives someone could come up with a plan. It’s true that we don’t know for sure what would come of buying time, but no one is going to find out what possibilities might be made into reality if Ironwood isn’t allowed to try.

To simplify things with another wonky comparison, pretend some evil supernatural killer has broken into your home. They’re blocking access upstairs to where a bunch of your friends are and you have no way to reach them. If you try to attack this creature you die. If you try to sneak past it you die. No one has come up with a solution that allows everyone to make it out of the house alive and the chances of death aren’t just high, they’re nearly guaranteed. How do you fight a creature that just reforms every time you do damage? How do you defeat them and protect your friends? No one has figured out an answer. Ironwood is the one going, “The back door is open! It’s horrific that we can’t get the people upstairs but we need to go. Head into the wood where maybe this creature won’t be able to find us. If we escape we might be able to figure out a way to still save some of our friends before they all perish. If we escape we’re going to keep this Magical Relic safe that’s potentially the key to defeating this creature in the long run, saving the whole world. At the very least we’ll survive and isn’t that better than all of us perishing?”

Team RWBY are the ones insisting that the only heroic option is to charge the creature head on. We don’t leave friends behind. Noble, but a death sentence - and one that does damage to the overall war (it’s not just a personal self-sacrifice). They’re also locking the back door to make sure Ironwood and others who might want to escape have to stay and fight with them, all while knocking out four allies for trying to get them to stand down.

Meanwhile, a good portion of the fandom is going, “Ironwood wants to run into the woods? That’s absurd. You can’t survive in the woods! They’ll get lost. They’ll starve. There are other creatures out there that I’m sure would kill them even though we’ve never heard about such creatures before. This isn’t a good long-term option.”  

But it’s not meant to be a long-term option. It’s meant to be the one option that might a) keep them alive in the short term and b) allows them to come up with a plan. Any plan at this point. To still save some of Mantle. Or keep the relics safe. Or help ensure that the 1,000 year attempt to defeat Salem doesn’t end here and now. Something to make this situation a little less horrible.

That’s not coldblooded pragmatism. It’s common sense in the face of noble heroics. Team RWBY should be commended for their bravery and their devotion to the people of Mantle (even though they didn’t care about the people while stringing Ironwood along…), but that doesn’t mean what they’re doing is smart. They know about this war. They know that their decisions are so much bigger than themselves and the immediate problems in front of them. They know there’s a long-term to think about, but so far they haven’t demonstrated any willingness to take that into consideration. It wouldn’t be so bad if the story just framed this around their trauma - some in the group literally can’t leave people behind after the death of Pyrrha - but insisting that this is the only Good and Smart solution here doesn’t work.

whitleyschn33

I was literally just thinking about this after running into one of those "here's all the reasons leaving Mantle means Atlas will die in the long run" posts. What those people don't seem to get is that with the only other plan on the table - stay and fight - there is no long term because in universe as of the finale, staying and fighting is a death sentence.

At least there is a long term to consider with Ironwood's plan. There will be time to regroup, recover, minimize the amount of combatants being faced, and take the time to come up with a new plan. Because yeah - odds are they can't stay up there forever. But they don't have to. They need to get out of reach to buy time for a better plan. Staying and fighting means game over - everyone dies, Salem gets two Relics and a Maiden, and the majority of the people that are in the loop about her threat are gone.

Is having to leave people behind tragic? Yes - but I think choosing to sit and let everyone die and let Salem get what she wants when there is a chance you can save some of them - maybe even most of them, depending on how much of Mantle has evacuated - and prevent her from being halfway to her goal of essentially killing the entire world is worse. I wouldn't sleep easy, but if I was in that office, I know who I'd be siding with - the guy that has a chance to save Atlas, part of Mantle, and the Relics, vs the girls that have proven to be liars and are advocating for an option that's essentially a suicide mission.

[bytheangell]

Hey Elle what's up! I've been thinking a lot about Magnus and alcoholism lately and I'm dying for a fic about him working to give that up and Alec helping him through it. Maybe like a post canon AU where Magnus has his magic back and him and Alec are together now? No rush I know you have a lot but I think this is right up your alley and I can't really write it myself right now

catalyst to your own happiness(read on AO3)tw: alcohol, alcohol abuse

It’s no surprise when it comes time for a toast at the wedding that the two grooms are front and center with a champagne fluke full of bubbling liquid, clinking their glasses with impossibly large smiles before taking the first drink. Alec finishes his first and gets an immediate refill, while Magnus nurses his a little longer with smaller sips, drawing it out.

What is a surprise is that when his glass is finally empty he denies his mother-in-law’s offer to top off his drink while she goes to grab another for herself.

“Something else?” Maryse asks instead, motioning toward the expansive bar selection readily available.

Magnus only shakes his head, much to Maryse and Alec’s surprise. “No,” he starts, considering his words carefully. He doesn’t want this to be a big deal… but it is. He knows it, and he’s certain they will, too. He turns slightly to address Maryse. “I meant what I said to you back at your shop that night. Magic or not, I think it’s time I take a little more responsibility for my more… excessive indulgences.”

Maryse, if she’s surprised by this, has the good grace to hide it behind a carefully controlled expression that smiles softly and nods. “Well then, I’m even more proud of you now than I was then. Might I suggest,” she adds quietly. “A little magic to keep that full of sparkling cider? Just to deter a night of unwanted temptations?”

Magnus laughs. “The beauty and the brains of the family, I see. Now I know where Alec gets it from.” He does just that, the glass in his hand no longer empty but full of something that looks exactly like the champagne it once held - except Maryse and Alec know differently.

Maryse catches the gaze of someone across the room and gives a little wave before excusing herself from the newlyweds, leaving Alec alone with Magnus once more. Unlike his mother, Alec can’t help the look of confusion and barely masked disbelief from his expressive eyes, glancing at Magnus’ drink before looking guiltily down at what is now his third glass of champagne.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize–” Alec starts, but Magnus immediately waves a hand dismissively at the apology.

“You have nothing to apologize for. We haven’t had a lot of time to just sit and talk since… well, before everything.” There was a lot of ‘everything’ covered by that vague statement, even though only a few days passed since he broke down on the balcony and ruined Alec’s proposal dinner. “Before I got my magic back, I told Maryse that I wasn’t going to drink anymore for a little while. I never want a repeat performance of that night…” Magnus knows he doesn’t need to specify which night for Alec to know which one. “I swore I would never burden you like that again. I know I have my tolerance back with my magic but it was still quite the wake-up call, and I think I want to stick with that promise. Or try to, at least.”

Alec nods, downing the rest of his glass in one go before holding it out to Magnus. “In that case, I’ll have what you’re having.”

Magnus shakes his head with a fond smile. “Alexander, you don’t have to–” “Of course I don’t, but I want to.” It’s such a simple gesture of solidarity but to Magnus, in this moment, it means the world.

“Alright. Just know that I honestly don’t mind if you want to indulge. This is your big day, after all. You deserve to celebrate.” Magnus draws the words out, buying time for Alec to change his mind and take the easy out. Alec doesn’t.

“It’s our big day,” Alec corrects him. “And all I need to celebrate is you.”

—

Given the short notice of the wedding, they’re both only able to take a few days on such short notice for an impromptu honeymoon. Those days are surprisingly simple because they’re more than a little preoccupied with one another, a wonderful distraction from any initial cravings Maganus might have. Again, they have a glass of wine over dinner, a drink with lunch, but that’s it. No excessive indulgences. It’s almost easy when it’s just the two of them.

The true test comes when they’ve returned to New York, but it’s one Magnus passes with flying colors… at first, in fact, it almost feels too easy to come back from their honeymoon and start their married life together as a new man. Maybe it’s just easier to psych himself out during such a monumental change in his life - his father is gone, he’s married, and he’s building up his client base one warlock at a time now that Lorenzo doesn’t have him on a universal Downworlder blacklist. Why not just slip this change in with the rest, while everything is already shifting and readjusting?

It goes well for a week or two until he gets particularly bad news about a sick warlock child. He first heard of her illness almost as soon as he got back to New York, and despite the fact that he immediately set to work on a particularly complicated elixir he’s currently in the middle of completing (one that took that full week of steeping and brewing and adding ingredients in just so over carefully measured intervals), it isn’t fast enough. He gets word that she died at 10:03 am on a Thursday, manages to hold off the worst of the impulses until 11:29 am, and pours his first glass of whiskey at 12:14 pm. Just one glass, he tells himself… which quickly turns into two, and then three, and then he isn’t bothering with the glass any more as he takes long swallows straight from the bottle.

Magnus hears Alec come home, he hears the greeting Alec calls into the apartment that he doesn’t reply to, and in the back of his head he knows that he shouldn’t be here. He should leave before Alec sees him and realizes that he fucked up… but he can’t be bothered to care just then. He certainly can’t be bothered to move. Alec walks into Magnus’ workroom to find his husband sitting on the floor next to a potion that’s hardening in the pot it was left in, two empty bottles of whiskey,  and one more nearly gone in Magnus’ hands.

The worst part of it all is that instead of numbing the pain he only feels worse.

“What happened?” Alec asks, hesitating by the doorway. He knows better than to crowd Magnus’ space when he’s like this before getting a read on the situation, and Magnus is grateful for it even as he watches Alec’s hands twitch, eager to reach out to him.

“I wasn’t good enough to save her” Magnus says, and Alec winces.

“The warlock girl… the sick one? She didn’t-” Alec starts, but can’t bring himself to finish that sentence, already knowing the answer.

“She died. She’s dead and it’s because I didn’t do enough…  there should’ve been something I could find to speed up the process, or if I was easier to reach they would’ve asked me sooner instead of going through local warlocks first, or-”

“Hey, hey,” Alec says, taking a few steps closer and kneeling down next to him on the floor. “You did everything you could. This isn’t your fault.”

Magnus shakes his head. “It is. And so is this,” he adds, half-heartedly lifting up the bottle in his hand. “Looks like I’m 2 for 2 in ruining everything that actually matters in my life right now. Careful, darling, or you’ll be next.” He knows his words have a slight slur to them but neither of them acknowledge it out loud. Alec doesn’t have to, the concern on his face speaks volumes.

Magnus wants to quit. He wants to take this as a clear sign that the sober life isn’t meant for him; he isn’t the sort of person who can just change himself after 400 years, so he should just admit defeat and move on. He almost does, expecting to look up into Alec’s face and see nothing but disappointment. It’ll be the final straw to make up his mind…

…but when he finally raises his eyes to meet Alec’s he doesn’t see disappointment, or anger, or even sadness. What he sees instead is resolve as his husband says, “I don’t believe that. And I don’t think you do, either.”

Easy for you to say, Magnus thinks, and he almost says those words out loud before he stops and really considers them. Is it easy for Alec? How could it be, to watch the man he loves struggle and fall apart? To know Magnus is doing his damndest to push Alec away?  This isn’t easy for Alec, either, even if he isn’t the one with the problem.

“You’re right. I’m not– of course I’m not thinking clearly right now.” Magnus can’t tell if he truly believes it or if he’s only saying what he knows Alec wants to hear. Either way it has the desired effect.

“How about we take a nice, long bath and go to bed early? We can sort out the rest in the morning.” Alec asks, and Magnus nods. There are no simple answers today. No solutions. He can’t undo what he did but he can pick himself up off of the floor - quite literally - and try to piece things back together. It isn’t the easy option and it’s the last thing he wants to do just then but when Alec reaches out a hand to him Magnus takes it.

He wants to give up, but he doesn’t. Not today.  

—

With Alec gone all day and Magnus with little to do outside of the occasional client, the drink cart situated in the corner of the room is more than a little tempting. He does well while Alec is around to see… but when his husband isn’t around Magnus starts to sneak a drink, or two, or three. It’s more habit than anything else and he hardly realizes he’s doing it until he has to make the effort to not do it around Alec.

It barely makes a difference - his tolerance is back to what it was before, and with his magic he barely feels anything under 4 or 5 drinks. Magnus certainly doesn’t think Alec notices until he comes home from visiting Raphael one night to hear the tail-end of a conversation Alec is having on the phone.

“I know. And I’m sure it isn’t a big deal, I just… I’m worried he’ll take it the wrong way.” Alec pauses, not hearing Magnus step inside and close the door gently behind him. “Of course you’re right, mom. It’s better I bring it up sooner rather than later. I just want to be there for him, after all, and–” Magnus places his bag down on the table, something inside clinking around enough to finally Alert Alec to his presence. Alec’s head whips around, eyes wide at the realization.

“I gotta go. Talk to you later.” Alec says before hurriedly hanging up the phone.

“And how is Maryse?” Magnus asks, eyeing Alec curiously.

Alec frowns. “How much of that did you hear?”  

“Enough to know you’re worried about telling me something - which shouldn’t even be an emotion that crosses your mind, dear. This is us we’re talking about, after all.” Magnus smiles, and it only wavers the slightest bit in anticipation which threatens to betray the total confidence his words exude. “What’s wrong?”

“Well…” Alec starts slowly, and there’s no denying the anxiousness in his voice, the implication of worry behind the long pause as he seems to debate just how much of what’s wrong he plans on actually sharing now that he’s put on the spot. “You’ve been drinking.”

Magnus frowns and does what he does best - tries to spin the truth, a skill he picked up and finely honed over centuries of dealing with Seelies. “Of course I have. You know I have a glass or two when we-”

“No,” Alec cuts him off, before the cover can go on for too long and they both decide it’s just easier to pretend it’s the truth. Magnus thinks for a brief moment that he isn’t sure he’s ever seen his husband look quite so nervous before, which is a concerning realization considering the sorts of situations he’s seen Alexander face.

Alec walks over to the drink cart, picks up a bottle, and grabs the stele out of his pocket to wave over one of the sides. A line appears that wasn’t visible before… a line that’s over a full inch above where the current level of liquor sits.

Rage flares up in Magnus, eyes narrowing.  

“You marked my bottles?!  You actually - I cannot believe you have such little trust in me you would go behind my back like this.” His words grow louder with every syllable, voice shaking, eyes wide. He’s on the defensive, words biting and sharp, and even though he sees the cringe on Alec’s face and the pain in Alec’s eyes the moment Magnus snaps out that first statement he doesn’t stop. “Have you been following me, too? Paying off waitresses to tell you how many martinis I ordered at lunch with Catarina?”

“Magnus, I just want to help. I can’t help if I don’t know that you’re having a problem-”

“Oh, so now you think I have a problem, too?”

“That isn’t what I meant and you know it,” Alec snaps back this time. It should be enough to give Magnus a moment of pause but it isn’t. He feels too much like a wild animal backed into a corner, with nothing but the instinctive need to fight his way free. Before he can push back Alec continues, not backing off this time. “You told me this was something you wanted to do. I only want to help you if you’re having a difficult time with it. The groups I talked with to help Izzy with her addiction, they deal a lot with alcohol addiction, too. They said marking the bottles–”

“I know why you marked the goddamn bottles, Alec. I’ve been around for centuries, you think I don’t know what AA is?” Magnus rolls his eyes. Up until now he’s told himself he doesn’t really have a problem. He’s doing this because he wants to, not because he has to. Certainly not because anyone else believes he should be doing it. He actually had himself convinced that his husband was just going along with it for his own sake after Alec’s initial reaction at the wedding… he never stopped to consider that Alec might actually think he has a problem worth worrying about, too.

“I just want to be here for you,” Alec tries again, echoing the words he spoke to his mother on the phone. “And if you actually thought this was okay you wouldn’t have tried to hide it.”

Magnus turns away, seemingly in anger but mostly because he doesn’t think he can see the hurt and confusion in Alec’s eyes and remain as stubbornly upset over this as he wants to be.

“I can’t do this right now,” Magnus says finally, grabbing his bag back off of the table before heading for the door. “I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up.”

“Magnus, wait-” Alec starts, but it’s too late. Magnus is out the door without so much as a stutter in his step, and doesn’t stop until he’s cleared the block. He knows it isn’t fair to Alec - he’s only trying to help, and in fact, Alec went above and beyond in that department. But Magnus feels blindsided and backed into a corner by the sudden confrontation, and he’s panicking, and now he’s aimlessly wandering the streets of New York with nowhere to go and nothing to do.

So he walks, pointedly ignoring the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He doesn’t go to Cat because he knows that she’ll agree with Alec. He fears the same for Maryse and Isabelle (both of whom Alec surely spoke to already), and Raphael is out of town. So instead he wanders without a destination, and he thinks. He could just change his mind and take it back. He tried, he failed, and he’s fine going back to the way things were before.

…isn’t he?

The moment he considers that option he knows it’s a lie. The time he spent sober, not relying on alcohol as a crutch or as something to numb the difficult days, was some of the most fulfilling time he’s had in recent years. Maybe he doesn’t want to quit forever but he can’t give in now, not while his motivations are still suspect.

Alec is right: he wouldn’t be hiding it if he thought what he’s doing is okay. That should’ve been his first sign that he isn’t as alright as he’s pretending to be.

Magnus finally pulls his phone out to call Alec, only to see a number of missed calls and texts from Catarina and Raphael as well.

Cat: Where are you? Alec’s worried sick, he thought you’d be here but I told him you weren’t, and now we’re both worried. Call one of us, please.

Raphael: I don’t know how your husband got my number but if he’s upset enough to call me I feel like I should be concerned. Are you alright? Call me, por favor.

Magnus texts them both back that he’s fine and he’ll talk to them later before calling Alec’s cell. Alec picks up before the first ring even finishes.

“Magnus, thank the Angel. I’m so sorry-”

“Alec, don’t. Please don’t apologize - you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should be apologizing,”  Magnus sighs. “I’m coming home.”

Magnus is dreading the conversation he knows he’ll have to have when he gets back, so he walks slowly and gathers his thoughts. When he finally opens up the front door of the apartment he sees Alec on the sofa trying very hard to look like he hasn’t just been sitting there, waiting. There’s a book open next to him as well as  a cup of tea that’s long since gone cold.

“Sorry I worried you,” Magnus starts, figuring it’s as good a place as any.

“It’s alright, as long as you’re alright.” Alec says, eagerly tossing the book to the side. “…you are, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t go drink a bottle of whiskey and pass out in a gutter somewhere, if that’s what you’re asking.” Magnus declares, deflecting.

“That isn’t what I-” Alec starts, and Magnus can already feel this turning into the conversation from earlier all over again, defensive and hostile.

“I know, I know it isn’t. Sorry, I shouldn’t joke about it like that. I just don’t know how to do this? I can’t tell when I only feel like I want it, or when I feel like I need it. And I know with my powers back I could drink for hours and be fine, but that doesn’t mean I should. And I’m just having a difficult time reconciling those things.”

Alec listens. “I get it. I mean, I don’t get it, obviously. I just want to do whatever’s best for you. You said this was something you wanted to do, and I want to be here in whatever capacity I can if it is. But if it isn’t…” Alec trails off. It isn’t like it’s been a huge problem outside of those days without his magic prior to Alec’s attempted proposal.

But one look at him and Magnus can tell that Alec is reluctant to say he’ll support Magnus if he decides to go back on  everything he said before… but Alec also doesn’t want to push him if he doesn’t want this anymore. And since Alec isn’t about to force him, the decision rests in Magnus’ hands now.

The weight of that isn’t lost on the Warlock, who falls silent for a long while after Alec’s words trail off, thinking them over.

“How about we start with full disclosure? Maybe trying to cut it all out at once was a bad idea. But I won’t hide anything any more, and we can take things from there?” Magnus takes a deep breath. “And no more pushing you away.”

Alec smiles, soft with a hint of sadness, and nods. “That sounds like an amazing plan. And I’m sorry for going behind your back with the bottles. I should’ve just said something to you first. I guess we both don’t really know how to do this… but we’ll figure it out. Together.”

And that’s all it takes for something so terrifying, something so monumental for the both of them to tackle, to feel entirely doable.

Because they’re doing it together.

————–

It soon becomes obvious that it isn’t how much he’s drinking, or even what he’s drinking - it’s the reason behind it, the emotional state that brings the urges about. Magnus is fine to have a drink or two with friends, or with Alec over meals, without the slightest bit of guilt. It helps to ease him into cutting back before cutting off entirely, since the all-or-nothing attempts weren’t working out.

What he can’t have is the drink cart in the apartment fully stocked with all of his go-to vices for days when the weight of the world feels a little too heavy. And what he can’t do is turn to that before he turns to a friend when things go wrong.

It’s easier said than done, but he does it just the same. He isn’t perfect, but Alec is there every step of the way to bring him back when he starts to slip. There are bumps in the road and nights out that, because he spent so long abstaining in-between, he indulges a little too much… but he’s finding a balance. He’s finding things that work for him because he wants to, and not because he feels pressured to by anyone for any reason other than simply getting better. 

The more Magnus allows himself to go to Alec  - or even Maryse, Catarina, or Raphael - when he’s having a particularly rough go of it, the easier it is to end that day on a positive note. That isn’t to say he doesn’t have some days that are worse than others; days when Alec comes home and Magnus admits he went out for a few too many drinks with an old friend and somewhere along the line started putting gin in the ‘just tonic’s. But it’s better than the start, and he’s making solid progress.

The first few times Isabelle invites him along to a meeting he turns her down. But after one particularly trying day when he finds himself pacing, actively trying to talk himself out of portaling to the nearest bar, he calls her up instead. It seems silly to talk about his life in mundane terms, and to think of it as a disease to be cured and not just a personality trait to be corrected. He doesn’t go often but it’s nice to hear from people who are going through the same thing.

It helps.

He takes up training with Alec to channel his frustrations. That helps, too… as does another less public form of stress relief Alec is more than happy to indulge in when Magnus needs a distraction.

Magnus hardly notices when he starts cutting back from casual social drinking as well, only imbibing once or twice a week until he isn’t even doing that. He reaches a point where he no longer feels as if he needs it- but more than that, he doesn’t even want it any more.

After an entire month without touching a single drop of alcohol Magnus comes home to dinner and a glass of sparkling cider on the table waiting for him.

“I thought this deserved a toast. I hope it’s alright, I know you didn’t say anything about it earlier so I’m not sure if you wanted to celebrate or not, but I know a full month is a pretty big milestone, and-” Alec starts to ramble a bit, and Magnus silences him with a finger brought up to Alec’s lips, followed quickly by a kiss.

“It’s fine. It’s perfect, Alexander. Thank you.” Magnus picks up his glass and waits for Alec to do the same. “To you, and all the unwavering love and support you’ve offered from the start.” Mangus says the words, moving his glass forward to meet Alec’s with a delicate ‘clink’.

“And to you” Alec adds. “For making this difficult decision for yourself and sticking to it. I’m so proud of you, Magnus.”

“Thank you. For everything,” Magnus smiles.

He knows better than to think one month means he’s rid of it for good, but Magnus allows himself this night to bask in the feeling of this current victory, even if it ends up being temporary.

Because this - despite what he’s sure they all believe - isn’t the first time he’s attempted to quit drinking. This is, however, the longest he’s managed to stick with it. There were times in his past - whether out of a loss of a loved one, or the loss of love itself, or sometimes just the weight of the things he’s seen and the horrors he’s lived through - where he’s gone too far even with his warlock tolerance to balance things out. He’s tried on his own to stop drinking in the past, obviously with little to no success given the recent state of things.

He doesn’t tell Alec all of that, however. If this fails - if he fails - he wants it to seem as if this is just a first attempt and not just another in a long line of broken promises to himself to get better.

Except this time he has something he didn’t have during any of those previous attempts. This time he has friends and family to support him; he has people to lean on.

This time he has Alexander.

And with Alec by his side he feels like he can take on the world, one glass of sparkling cider at a time.

[lorewytch]

Walls

Ooookayyyyyy.....I may have written something XDDDDDDD

So, the other things I had been writing had to take a back seat to this honestly. I couldn’t help it!!!!

I thought of another unique duo that might have some interesting things to talk about. While I reallllyyy want to see a Della and Webby episode. I also really wanted to write this piece between Lena and Della. Now, Lena needs a moment with Scrooge too I feel. But I couldn’t help but feel that this particular conversation needed to be said. Webs could never say these things to Della. But Lena, who was by her side through it all...who was her shadow through everything had every right to. It also shows how unsure Lena herself is about her own position in the family. Now I don’t feel this was intentional by the writers to not give Webby and Della much screen time. After all the episode was about Della, the boys and Scrooge. But I could see this happening within the next few weeks, especially with how the episodes were panning out. Webby doing her own thing without the boys, Dewey spending more time with Della etc. I just thought this really needed to be written out for some reason. Besides, I really wanted to see how these two would act towards each other.

Not sure if I made Della believable enough.....But I tried! Sorry if she’s a little out of character! XDD 

“Lena!” Webby yelled, fear in her eyes and she reached out towards her best friend.

“Mom!” Was the chorus of boys next to her, likewise reaching for their moms arm which was outstretched.

Lena’s fear was masked at seeing Webby’s tear stained gaze.

OH geez pink, don’t look like that…..was her last thought as she and Della vanished from their view into the abyss below.

When she and Della awoke, they were alone deep within the mine. Looking up, Della saw nothing but darkness and the room they were currently being held within was made of solid rock. No way out.

Lena felt herself sighing, sitting in a opposite side of the room and simply just trying to think of a way out. But even she knew it was more or less hopeless at this point. She could only hope Webby and the boys would find a way to save them. Della was busy trying to use a rock to chip away at the wall near her. Only for it to cave in and form a new mound of rocks and dust where she had just been working.

Letting out a frustrated noise, she slammed the rock down and then glanced over at Lena, who averted her gaze and rolled her eyes with a sigh.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Della walked cautiously towards the teen duck with a nervous chuckle. “Um, I’m sure they will find a way to get to us!” she said with a bright voice.

Lena eyed her, then looked back down. “I know, pink will lead the boy band and Scrooge to us.” She said without emotion.

Della laughed a bit nervously and sat next to Lena. “Right! We just need to wait it out.”

Cue the awkward silence.

Fidgeting a bit, Della grit her beak. Glancing around nervously. Eyes darting every now and again to Lena.

Lena tried to ignore it, but it was grating on her nerves.

“What?” she asked, turning to look at Della with a slight glare.

Wincing at the others harsh look, Della held up her hands in surrender. “Nothing! Nothing…its just..”

Lena raised an eyebrow.

Della sighed and rubbed her arm. “It’s just, I was wondering what I did wrong..”

Lena frowned.

“It’s just that..you have seemed cold to me ever since we met. I mean its none of my business. But I don’t remember doing anything wrong and I was…just..” Della fumbled a bit with her words. But the fact of the matter was, she didn’t remember doing anything to hurt Lena in the least. But since she has met the girl she’s had nothing but attitude, even Scrooge and Beakley have noticed. They did mention that Lena had been under Magica’s thumb her entire existence. Being used as little more than a puppet. Yet Webby, the only one she truly trusted, broke that ice around her soul… She saved Lena’s heart.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cyborg.” Lena spat, standing up and clenching her hands into fists. “As much as you would like to believe it, not everythings about you.” She stated and took a couple steps. “Who says I have to be friendly towards you? I hardly know you.”

“Well, yeah true but…” Della started but Lena spun around to face her, eyes narrowed.

“You can’t expect everyone to just accept you just because you come bursting into their lives and causing all sorts of confusion and tearing friends apart!” realizing she might have said too much, Lena shut her beak and spun back around, crossing her arms across her chest.

But Della looked on slack jawed and suddenly very confused. “Wait, but I haven’t torn anyone apart.”

Lena bit her beak so hard it was a wonder it didn’t crack. “Yeah right.” She mumbled. “Whatever.” She walked towards the other side of their prison.

“No, wait! Who have I broken up?” Della demanded, frowning a bit. “You aren’t making any sense!”

Lena let out an annoyed growl and slammed a webbed foot onto the earth. “I don’t get why Webby doesn’t be more direct!” She shook her head and held it before turning and marching up to a terrified Della. “Look I will only say this once!!”

Blinking, Della slowly nodded not breaking eye contact with the teen.

Lena sighed and crossed her arms. “I doubt anyone’s really noticed. But since you came back my best friend’s been an emotional wreak.” In pain, Lena looked away, clenching her arm tightly. “Of course the loveable idiot won’t say anything and just smile happily at everyone. It’s Webby. She’s not one to get really mad or hold grudges.” Glaring back at Della, she put herself in the others face. “Webby already is unsure of her true place in this family and then you come and…..and…..make things more complicated!”

Della’s eyes darted about as she was absorbing what Lena was saying.. “Wait…what? How am I responsible for that?!”

“Dewey’s her best friend! She and the triplets go on adventures all the time with Scrooge! Suddenly your back and they all want to go on adventures with you! The night she came back she was crying because of the fact she tried so hard to meld within the Duck and McDuck family since she barely had one of her own and you come in and take her place!”

“I’m not taking her place!” Della snapped back. “I just want to spend time with my family!”

“Well Webby is a part of it now too and you hardly have spoken two sentences to her!” Lena shot back.

Silence.

Della’s shocked, and slightly horrified expression gave Lena a bit of satisfaction. Then realization of what she said made her groan and slump down on her knees. Covering her head with her arms and moaned. “What did I just do?! Webby’s gonna kill me!”

Della felt slight tears in her eyes and she closed them, shaking her head slightly and walking over to Lena. Putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, Lena’s head jerked up and a glare met a warm smile.

The glare melted into a confused and guarded expression.

“You really are a good friend Lena.” Della said.

Yanking her shoulder away, she took a step back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Della chuckled and slumped to her knees. “Come here..”

“No way.” Lena blew a stray feather from her face.

Della sighed. “I think…….you may be right..”

Lena blinked and raised an eyebrow.

“Uncle Scrooge was right.” Della laughed. “Things have really changed.” She closed her eyes. “I was so focused on Scrooge and the boys…..I really was.” Brushing a hand through her hair, Della slammed her other fist into the earth beneath her.

Lena’s guarded expression fractured a bit. “Hey what are you-“

“I’m sorry…to both you and Webby…I am not intending to take Webby’s place at all. I swear it.” She looked up, determined into Lena’s gaze.

Lena’s frown returned, going back to crossing her arms. “Whatever, look just forget I said anything. If you tell Webby anything I said here you are going to have shadow monsters haunt your dreams until you die.” She said darkly.

A shiver crept up Della’s spine and she laughed a bit, slapping her hand on the others back. Lena’s split second surprised reaction was enough to make Della grin more.

“How about next adventure will be a girls day out. You, me, Webby…ah you can even bring your new friend…..Violet is it?”

Turning her head towards Della, Lena slowly moved back around to face her with arms crossed. “Whats the catch?” she asked suspiciously.

“No catch.” Della said seriously. “I do want to get to know you both as well. Scrooge himself has mentioned you and what happened during the Shadow War.” Della said seriously, placing her hands on Lena’s shoulders. “I admit… I’m still trying to figure out this whole…being a mom thing. But the last thing I want is for anyone to feel lost, left alone and isolated.” She looked deeply within Lena’s eyes showing how serious she was.

Lena broke the gaze, her guard all but vanished. “Look, I know you aren’t a bad person…..and its not like me and pink need a mom.” Webby had a mom already, even if she was gone. “But a…..” she swallowed. “A actual decent A-Aunt….might be okay.” She mumbled.

Della smiled softly. “Come here!” She grabbed Lena and dragged the flailing teen into a hug that she could not escape from.

“What?! NO! Let go!” Lena struggled.

“Nope! Not happening! Comes with being a part of this family!” She squeezed the groaning teen tighter.

Finally, Lena gave in and sighed. Slowly she hugged the other back. The two pulled away and Lena gave her a slight smile.

Just as the wall next to them exploded.

Blinking, the two snapped their heads to the wall, which a giant hole was blasted through. There as the dust settled, stood a panting Webby Vanderquack. She held a pick ax in one hand. In the other a stick of dynamite. She was dirty, feathers covered in several layers of grime. She held a determined face, gritting her beak in concentration. She had a few burns on her body but once she saw Lena her eyes brightened.

“LENA!” Jumping up and running towards her, She tackled her friend and together the two tumbled to the ground laughing.

Della watched them for a bit, smiling slightly. Then she heard three calls of “MOM!” She turned to see her boys tackle her into a tight hug as well.

Lastly Scrooge emerged looking at the group with a chuckle.

Della hugged her boys with gusto and slowly led them over to the girls. Grabbing Lena’s shirt, she dragged Lena and Webby in and before they knew it all were hugging one another.

Scrooge approached looking winded himself.

“How did you guys find us?” Della asked.

Scrooge happened a glance at Webby and chuckled. “Well the kids were so worried, I looked at the map and thought of a place where ye might have fallen. It was blocked with several miles of rocks though. That wouldn’t stop Webbigail though. She refused to let ye two stay trapped down here.”

Della’s eyes widened and she looked down at the smiling duckling. “She did this?”

Scrooge looked impressed too. “She’s a fireball that’s for sure. Nothing stops her, like a certain other niece I know.”

Looking at Webby in a slightly new light, she sat a hand on the young ducklings head. Glancing up curiously, Webby blinked at Della’s smile as she saw herself within the young duckling. If Webby could do all of this at her age, she wondered what else she could do.

“Hey Webby listen..” Della lowered herself to the others height.

“Yes Ms. Duck?” Webby’s voice was all business.

Della frowned. “Now none of that…its Della.” She smirked. “Now I think you, me and your friends.” She indicated Lena. “Need a girls day.” She said winking.

Blinking, Webby’s eyes shifted from guarded to glistening. Her smile split her face and she could barely contain her energy. “Really?!?!”

 “Ugh, wait are you going to have a sleep over or something?” Dewey asked with a frown.

Della smirked. “Something like that.” She hugged her boys tightly to herself. “You don’t mind me stealing her away for a bit do you?” she asked curiously.

Dewey frowned, glancing at Webby then back to his mom. Louie did the same. “Bro huddle!” he called and grabbed Huey and Louie. Together they whispered for a bit and stepped away. Nodding to each brother, Huey went over to Webby, arm around the confused girls shoulder protectively and leading her closer. Louie and Dewey faced their mom with arms crossed.

“Okay mom, you can have Webby and Lena for the day. BUT-“ Dewey started.

“But only if they are back home within a certain time frame.” Louie continued, smirking at Lena, who rolled her eyes.

“Webby and Lena are our important family too.” Huey gave Webby a hug, which she generously responded in kind. “So don’t do anything too reckless.” He cautioned.

“I’m sure whatever Cyborg here can come up with isn’t as crazy as the things we have already be on.” Lena smirked.

Dewey suddenly shivered. “I will never look at trees the same way again..”

Della cringed a bit at that and then smiled at her boys. “You all really love Webby don’t you?”

All three froze and turned to their mom with embarrassed faces.

“Mooooommmmm” Dewey covered his face with his hands which made Lena laugh.

Huey opted to ignore the comment and instead instructed their mom on how to handle Webby in the field. “Now she is easily distracted and will often jump into things head first. Oh, watch out for her grappling hook. Sometimes she doesn’t watch where she points it. Oh yeah, she likes to lick random things…..” He continued to list off things while Webby was still standing there, blinking a bit.

Louie was shaking his head and leaned against Lena. She rolled her eyes and moved a bit, letting the green boy fall to the ground with a smirk.

“Hey watch it!”

“I am not a wall.” Lena shot back with a satisfied expression.

After another few minutes of lecture finally the boys relented. All three giving Webby a hug and grin. Webby herself felt so full of warmth at that moment. She felt so loved that she cried a bit as she held them and declared that she loved everyone.

Scrooge shed a tear or two, but hid it quickly. “Ack okay then..” he made a stern face. “Lets get out of here before the rest of this places comes down upon our heads!”

He left with the boys in toe.

Lena followed after, leaving Webby with Della.

Della got to her feet and extended a hand towards Webby. Hesitating only a second, she smiled and reached up, grasping onto it tightly.

“So Webby, what’s your opinion on the Crown of Iris?”

[wolf-555-writer]

Still Breathing Part 2

Got a bit carried away writing this one, it has a little more words than I anticipated. Sorry not sorry ;). Hope you like it as much as I did writing! Also stay tuned for the final, last part...

Read part 1

Alex Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 4,864

Grabbing the keys to your apartment door, you reach inside the pocket of your jeans. At the same time you feel your phone buzzing. Looking at the phone, curious who it might be, you easily unlock the door and go inside. A text from Alex Danvers. It reads:

Had fun tonight! Hope we can do that again soon :). X Alex

You smile extensively and feel a sudden flare of joy rushing through your body. Of course you also enjoyed the evening, but it didn't really go like you planned. You were almost there, almost. But then chickened out again. Admitting your feelings is definitely much harder than you thought it would be. You put the keys and the phone on the timber coffee table as you take off your jacket. The phone buzzes again. You quickly grab it from the table now next to you, since you had just thrown yourself on the couch to relax. It's another text from Alex.

So sorry, couldn't lie to her :( Hope you're not mad.

You look confused, because you have no idea what she's talking about. Not a second later you receive another text. This time it’s from the other Danvers. It's from Kara.

Saturday, dinner at my place. Hope you will be there! X Kara.

"Oh my god...", you grunt a little too loud while reading the text. In your right hand still holding the phone, you use your left hand to cover your closed eyes and sigh. Alex obviously told Kara you were back and that you just met up with her in some bar. You suspect she's going to give you some sort of welcome home party. With probably everybody there...

Or maybe you just need this little push from Kara. Because you have to admit, those 2 months back have been a little quiet and lonely. And of course you can't let her down. She was after all the one that saved your life two and a half years ago. But back then, you only knew her as Supergirl. 

///

[2 years and a couple of months ago]

Laying in your hospital bed, you look outside. It's raining. You listen to the battering sound the water drops make when they hit the glass. There are a couple of doctors standing in your room, discussing your chart with their interns. You hear them talk about you, about all the ugly injuries you have suffered, which you've already heard over a thousand times.

Okay, well maybe not a thousand times, but you get the point, it has become tiresome.

You've stopped listening to their discussions for some time now. A nurse stands beside the bed, giving you some medicine through the IV. Probably some pain medication, which you're luckily not that dependant on anymore.

"When the hell can I get out of here", you ponder.

Today is not your best day, as you got word of your discharge from the army. They didn't even give a valid reason. It had probably something to do with that 'Special Agent' that visited you some weeks ago here in the hospital. You start to reflect again, directing full attention to your brain.

"That secret organization she works for, they’re definitely the cause. They are without a doubt the reason I got fired. They better fix this."

Not letting it go, feeling your mind fill with rage. But you were also slightly disappointed, because you were probably never going to see that Agent again.

Now you don't have a job and will, without a doubt, receive a huge medical bill once you're out of the hospital. The nurse notices your rather irritated mood.

"Is there something I can do for you?", she asks nicely.

You almost burst out some sentence that's better not to be said out loud. But luckily you contain yourself, because after all, it's not her fault. You ask her when it's time for your daily rehabilitation. Something you always look forward to, despite the pain it often gives. You get the feeling you're at least getting a little bit better, step by step. Right about the time the nurse wants to answer the question, one of the doctors interrupts her with his loud, harsh voice and far too complicated words about your health situation. You become a bit angry, because this is not the first time it happens.

"Keep breathing, keep breathing", you repeat inside your head, trying to calm yourself down.

But it's not working. This guy always thinks he's better and above the nurses. And on top of everything, he treats them as unequals, as trash. The nurses definitely know you better as a patient and what you're in need of compared to any other doctor here in the hospital. Today you can't take it anymore, probably also due to your current mood. You put on your fiercest face and look him straight in the eyes, stone-cold.

"Enough", you declare. "I thinks it's better if you leave", you say with a particular dominance in your voice.

He looks confused and disturbed, a frown appears on his face. He's probably also a little bit intimidated by you. After all, you have been in the army.

"What do you m-".

You interrupt him and continue with a steady face: "You heard me. I want you to leave this room". You clearly hit a nerve there while he exits with the rest of the doctors and interns without saying a word back. When they’re completely gone, you chuckle.

"Didn't think that would work", you say with a wide grin.

The nurse, who also looks a bit puzzled, is still standing at the side of the bed.

"What...what did you just do?", she stumbles.

"I really can't stand the way he treats the nurses around here", you answer, relieved you could finally get that off your chest.

"Well, you're officially my new hero", the nurse states. "I will also leave you alone for now", she says with a broad smile. "I will be back later with some other medicine". 

The nurse left. You're now alone in your hospital room. Hearing the dripping sound of the antibiotics, falling from the fluid bag into the IV-line that enters your veins, you see that it stopped raining. Listening to some birds playfully chirping outside. A ray of sunlight shining through the window makes the bleak hospital floor gleam.

"Finally, some peace and quiet", you exhale, able to relax your breath at last.

You turn the TV on. It's the news channel and you see Supergirl appear on the screen, which causes a subtle smirk to appear on your face. She is kind of your hero, because you'll always be grateful to her for freeing you from the wreckage that day.

///

[Present day]

It's saturday morning. Well-, okay... Maybe it's not morning anymore.

Waking up from a restless sleep, looking up at the digital alarm clock. You roll your eyes and sigh, it's already 12:30. You drag yourself out of bed and hop into the shower, hoping a splash of cold water will wake you up.

Eating some breakfast at 1pm, you think about your plans later that day. Dinner at Kara's place. You're not really in the mood to go. Of course Alex will be there. But also... all the others. You start to ponder while taking a sip of your strong, hot coffee, desperately craving caffeine.

"What will they think of me... Leaving without saying goodbye to them. And then coming back, also avoiding to reach out".

You haven't eaten much of your breakfast because you're feeling a bit nauseous. You stare outside and listen quietly to the music you put on earlier. Gazing at the towering buildings you can see. Looking through your apartment window for several minutes you overcome yourself. Enough doubting. You grab your keys and jacket and start walking towards the front door.

"Time to go".

///

You stand in front of the door of Kara's apartment and can already hear familiar voices coming from the inside. Raising your hand hesitantly to knock on the door, you feel your heartbeat pounding inside your dry throat. It almost feels like your first day at the DEO. You feel a little panic surge. 

Of course you don't have to knock, as Kara already spotted you standing in front of the door, using her X-ray vision. You hear her speak cheerfully:

"I think there is someone at the door! I'll go check"

Before you even realize it the door is open and you see Kara standing there, quite enthusiastic. "Hi!", she calls. "I'm glad you came.", while giving you a very, very tight hug. In which you reply with:

"Wow, easy. I still want to breathe", barely able to speak these words.

"Sorry, I got a little bit carried away", she giggles. "Come in"

///

[2 years ago]

Walking confidently out of the DEO headquarter building, you think about your new job. A DEO Agent! You're pulled from your happy thought when suddenly thinking about your long-term stay in the hospital, where you just got discharged from.

"Damn, I got some training to do", you say to yourself as you grab the keys of your motorcycle.

"I don't want to look like a fool on my first day of work next week", now seated on your bike.

Before you can put the keys in the ignition you hear a voice calling your name.

"(Y/N)! Wait!".

You open the cap of your helmet and see Agent Danvers standing next to you.

"Hi-"

You're interrupted by Alex, who is currently very impressed by your vehicle.

"Didn't know you have a motorcycle", she says. Leaving her speechless and admiring your choice of transportation. Confused about the actual reason she is standing there, you ask, after taking off the helmet:

"Is there something wrong?".

"Wh-What was I saying again?", she stammers.

"My name...", you denote, lifting an eyebrow, looking questionable at Alex.

"Oh- Yes! You forgot your entrance pass. You'll need it when entering the building", she explains.

"Thanks. Guess I'll see you next week then", you state, trying to keep your cool. Before Alex can even turn around to walk back, you've already put on the helmet again and started the engine, smelling the raw gasoline scent. You close the helmet cap smoothly while driving away, enjoying this new milestone in your life.

///

Nervous about your first day working as a DEO agent, you open your locker. Inside you see a black uniform, combat boots and a firearm with holster.

Tying the shoelaces of the new shiny boots, you hear other people entering the locker room. Guess you were early. They look at you, noticing that you're new. One of the agents walks towards you.

"Welcome, I'm Agent Vasquez", the agent graciously introduces while standing in front of you, reaching out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Agent (Y/L/N)", you proudly express, really enjoying your new title.

Walking with the other agents to the main area for the daily briefing, you already see Director Henshaw expertly discussing with Alex. As you come to a halt, you observe Supergirl flying through the entrance, that leads to the balcony, and landing swiftly in front of you and the other agents. You flinch, startled but also impressed by finally seeing Supergirl in real life again. 

"Just in time, Supergirl", Director Henshaw firmly states.

"Now that you're all here, I would like you to meet our newest agent, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)", he affirms, pointing in your direction with the palm of his hand facing up. You quickly look up and notice all eyes are on you. You give a steel nod back, trying to cover up your nervousness.

"As it's your first day, I would like you to tag along with Agent Danvers", he adds, turning his head towards Alex, who's standing beside him in a confident pose, arms crossed behind her back. Of course you're happy to oblige.

Walking with Alex towards a large screen with a row of high-tech computers in front of it. The expensive computers are positioned in a half circle. On one of the two ends you see a person sitting in a chair, glued to the screen, who is not wearing a DEO uniform. He's in casual attire.

"This is Agent Schott", Alex announces, introducing him.

Pulling him out of his full concentration, working on something you do not understand, he quickly turns around and stands up to shake your hand.

"I'm Agent (Y/L/N)', you say to him while shaking his hand firmly.

"Pleasure. But you can just call me Winn", he friendly returns.

Opening his mouth to say something again, he rushes back to the computer as it starts to make an alarming sound.

"Wow, we've got alien activity. Some disturbance at an industrial plant", Winn states with a very serious tone in his voice, something that he didn't have earlier.

"Supergirl, you-".

Supergirl also heard it and has already left the building to fly to the location Winn hasn't even provided yet. Not knowing where and how he got this information, you have to believe him on his word, as Alex speaks to you:

"Let's go", while rushing to get the tactical gear. You follow her quickly, a little bit too excited about your first assignment.

///

Rappelling down with ropes from a helicopter you and some other DEO Agents were transported in, you arrive at some abandoned, shady factory.

"We've arrived at the location you gave us Winn", Alex discloses over the comms, finally standing on the ground with both feet.

You also safely landed on solid ground and easily detach yourself from the rope that is linked to the chopper. Gazing around at the deserted area, inhaling the fresh air, you think:

"Why does it always have to be places like this?"

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear a loud bang coming from inside of the shutdown factory. Jolting your head to face the sound, you identify Supergirl. Fighting with an alien in front of the building as they had just bursted through a thick, brick wall. Alex rushes towards the danger and commands, also with a hand gesture:

"Follow me and stay sharp."

Marching slightly a bit faster than Agent Danvers, you end up next to her. Holding your gun in position. Fully concentrated, ready to fire at any moment. The rest of the Agents are right behind you, approaching in formation. You see Supergirl struggling with the alien. She is powerfully thrown away and lands on some wooden pallets, hard, breaking them in thousand pieces. The alien now turns toward the fastly progressing Agents.

“Stop! On the ground, now!”, Alex yells while you're still next to her. Following her lead and feeling your ears ring from her loud voice.

The alien is not amused and quickly throws some metal debris, that are scattered on the concrete ground, at the DEO team. As the shards start moving towards you, all fire with their guns, almost in sync. Open-eyed you look in front of you, the alien is… bulletproof? Your reaction time is affected, because you're caught off guard. While the rest of the team is able to evade the sharp fragments, now flying high speed towards you, a couple of them graze you. One of them scrapes your head. Before you even realize what happened Supergirl appeared again, capturing the alien smoothly.

This was definitely not part of your military training. It's an even greater challenge than you expected it to be. You start to doubt, are you even cut out for this job?

"Everything okay?", Alex asks, noticing your rather odd facial expression.

"Yeah, I just hadn't seen an alien from up close before.", you confirm. "Well, besides Supergirl of course."

Alex laughs: "Guess you'll need to be getting used to it then. As this is what we do".

You look a bit worried. “I don’t even know how to protect myself, let alone fight these aliens”

“Don’t worry, I’ll help with that”, Alex promises, which comforts you.

“I'll also stitch that up for you once we’re back”, she caringly suggests, pointing at the left side of your head.

You forgot you sustained some cuts, probably due to the adrenaline rush, as you immediately reach for it and feel some blood above your eyebrow.

“That's definitely gonna leave a scar.”, you expect while you feel it stinging.

Alex already walked towards Supergirl who is still holding the alien firmly. You keep standing at your current position and tilt your head up at the sky, eyes closed, feeling the sunlight shine on your face. It’s a challenge, but you’re really enjoying this. This new job. And of course your colleagues, or better said, one colleague in particular. You wish this feeling will last forever.

///

[Present day]

Slowly stepping inside the apartment, you see all eyes shifting in your direction. A delicious smell hits you right in the face. It’s of a freshly baked cherry pie. You first, of course, notice Alex, who is smiling at you, which elevates your mood and relaxes you slightly. You also recognize James, Lena and J'onn, who you first knew as Hank Henshaw. He is the one that speaks to you first.

"Good to see you back in National City", he sincerely says, smiling.

"It's good to be back", you respond. "I hear you retired"

"That is correct. But only because I know the DEO is in perfect hands now", he proudly states while turning his head in Alex' direction. She smiles brightly while taking in this huge compliment.

You now notice there are also two persons in the living room you don't recognize. Kara steps in and introduces them.

"This is Nia Nal, I work with her at CatCo. Nia, this is (Y/N)."

"It's a pleasure to meet you", you express, shaking her hand.

"And this is Brainy, he works with Alex".

"Greetings", he says.

"Also nice to meet you", you reply.

"So, where is Winn?", you ask Kara shortly after as you haven't spotted him in the room.

"Who?", Nia exclaims, who obviously doesn't know him.

"Well... Euhm, Winn is... kinda-"

Kara struggles with her answer. You look at Alex, who’s making some kind of hand gesture and is moving her lips without speaking. You stare at her confused.

"What is it?", you question with a frowning face, uninformed about the whole situation.

"Well... Winn went to the future", Alex eventually reveals, helping Kara.

"Yes. That", Kara quickly adds.

You now look even more confused at the two sisters then you did earlier, raising your eyebrows, eyes widening.

"Future?"

"Come on. I will explain everything", Alex tenderly mentions while she gently grabs your arm and pulls you with her in the direction of the kitchen. "But first, we need some wine."

///

[Roughly 1.5 years ago]

Standing on a semi-soft gym mat, you widen your stance to gain better balance, still keeping your guard up high. Alex stands in front of you, very confident looking.

"Show me what you got (Y/N)", she daringly teases as she throws a jab-cross combination your way.

You easily evade the punches with a fast slip to the right, while you mockingly suggest:

"That's all you got Danvers?"

"Don't get me started", she replies with a visage like she's ready for battle.

Besides you and Alex, some other agents are also sparring together or training with weights because you obviously need to stay in good shape. You sometimes spar with other agents, but training with Alex always brightens your spirit.

You're having a good run, throwing and evading punches and kicks when suddenly, Alex lands a killer combination on you. Which you evidently did not see coming. She has pinned you down on the ground. Again. Everytime you think you can beat her, she has some special trick up her sleeve you don't foresee. Alex stands up and looks at you for a brief moment, eyes sparkling.

"Seriously, again (Y/N)?", she expresses, smiling, reaching out her hand to you.

You grab her hand and pull yourself up, feeling a little bruised, like literally.

"I know, I know", you hopelessly sigh.

You and Alex had become close these past months, teaching you about aliens and their weaknesses. Talking and sharing a lot during work time. You had become friends. Even though that’s not exactly what you wanted. But, well, you've got to start somewhere, right?

You grab a towel from the floor that's located at the edge of the training mat to wipe the sweat drops from your face. Meanwhile Alex has grabbed her phone and looks at the screen, fully concentrated with a scowl on her face.

"Everything okay?", you ask her.

"Yeah, it's fine. It's just a text from my sister.", she answers with an irritated tone. "I know she's my sister, and I love her more than anything in the world, but sometimes I could just kill her".

"Wow, wow, easy Danvers. Must be the adrenaline talking", you respond grinning.

"No, I mean she-"

Alex is interrupted by Winn, who walks into the training area towards you two.

"Got the results back", he brightly states.

At the same time he realizes he should not have spoken so loud as he gazes around in panic, looking over his shoulder if the other Agents heard him. Winn got assigned a somewhat 'secret' mission from Henshaw to locate all the remaining Kryptonite left on earth, since some recently resurfaced, badly injuring Supergirl. It was yours and Alex' job to secure and destroy it, once found.

"We'll be right there", Alex asserts.

"Wait... She didn't kick your ass again, right (Y/N)?", Winn questions you with a slight sarcastic tone in his voice, seeing you’d just finished training. 

"Guess I'll have to buy you a beer then. Again", you grunt at him, seeing Alex smirk. 

///

Walking into a dank, dark, cold warehouse, you feel a shiver down your spine. A musty odor floating around. 

“Seriously?’ Why can’t they just hide it somewhere with central heating or something”, you scoff, which makes Alex chuckle.

You search cautiously, pointing your firearms out in front of you. Supporting that arm with your other arm, where you’re both holding flashlights as the only light in the place shimmers from some old, flickering fluorescent tube that has become way too dim. As it is not ‘official’ DEO business, you both are wearing civilian clothes. Busy searching the building when suddenly you hear a noise originating behind you. It sounds like clicking footsteps. You hear them become louder and louder. You both turn around at the exact same time as if you had discussed this in advance. Blinded by the light in her face, you see Supergirl standing there.

“Can you please not shine it in my eyes?!”, she frowns a bit annoyed, covering her eyes with her hands.

Before you can even speak a word, Alex already bursts out, furiously:

“What the hell are you doing here and how did you even know we were here!?!”

“Well… Winn told me and I thought I could help”, she delivers a bit startled due to the way she was just spoken to.  

“You do know we are searching for Kryptonite, right?, Alex discloses, almost barking at her, forehead furrowed.

You’re a bit dazzled by Alex her reaction. Of course you know that Kryptonite is the one thing that can hurt and kill Supergirl. But seriously, why this strong reaction? Surely, not even a couple of days ago Supergirl was badly hurt, taking a kryptonite shard to the shoulder. But Alex removed it promptly, giving Supergirl sufficient time to heal again. You of course have great admiration for her, as she dares to be so close to Kryptonite again so soon.

Suddenly Supergirl speaks: “I think it’s over there. I can’t look inside it, because it’s made of lead”, pointing at some antique fault, stowed away between some old, rusty machines.

You see Alex glower. Before Alex can even speak, you quickly mention, avoiding some dispute again:

“Thanks Supergirl! Alex and I will take it from here. See you back at the DEO!”.

Alex looks at you weirdly as her expression changes, but helps you swiftly since you’re already trying to break open the fault with all the strength you got. Supergirl has already flown away out of the awfully quiet warehouse whilst you’re now observing a small amount of sparkling green Kryptonite in front of you.

///

Driving posthaste in a black SUV back to DEO headquarters, after successfully recovering the Kryptonite, you start to speculate.

“Alex her reaction to Supergirl was very out of character. She was genuinely scared, I could read it from her body language. Like she deeply cares for her, like she’s family or something...“.

Still puzzling inside your head, when it impulsively hits you.

"Wait?! Your sister... Kara… she is Supergirl isn't she?", you declare, out loud. Alex, who is seated next to you, looks at you speechless, with an expression on her face like she's caught red handed.

"Ah, it all makes sense now", you confidently state.

"What makes sense now?", Alex fiercely responds, as she's finally able to produce a sentence.

"Well, every time Supergirl gets into serious trouble, you're worried and a little bit more on edge", you explain to Alex, trying to read her facial expression to see if you're right, with also of course, keeping an eye on the road.

She looks outside, staring at the road, avoiding eye contact. After a couple minutes of ultimate silence, and probably substantial thinking, she reluctantly speaks:

"Okay, you're right. My sister is Supergirl".

"I knew it!", you exclaim, still focused on driving the car as your whole face lights up. 

"Only some people at the DEO know. So you have to keep it a secret.", Alex reveals with a serious tone in her voice.

"Yes, got it. Won't tell anyone. You can trust me", you tell her while looking her soothingly in the eyes.

You immediately see Alex relax once you told her that.

"I know (Y/N)", she answers. "I do trust you. I trust you with my life".

///

[Present]

"Woah... Slow down. You mean like, James and Lena are together?", you say to Alex fairly surprised and to be honest, a little bit too loud. You're really enjoying this little gossip moment with Alex and feeling more and more relaxed compared to the moment of your entrance. 

"Nah, I don't believe you", you add.

Alex frowns and responds with less volume: "Not so loud", while also making a hand gesture.

With a much softer voice you declare: "I always thought Lena and Kara would end up together, you know, as a couple".

"What?!", Alex returns. Now she is the one who talks a bit too loud.

"You don't think they're a good match?", you reply, raising one eyebrow.

"No more wine for you", Alex answers teasingly, laughing about what you just said. While also being a little tipsy from the not-so-innocent red liquid. You’re currently sitting on the couch as the others help Kara prepare for dinner.

“Glad you came, by the way”, she admits while gently touching your leg with her right hand. “We all are”, she quickly adds. Your cheeks start to turn a bit red. Trying to hide it by gazing around the apartment, you look for the rest. Lena and James are making the table, or at least they're trying to. You notice a tension between them not being able to hear their conversation. Lena is mad at James as she ignores him while he's pouring his heart out to her, probably. You laugh on the inside, being grateful that you're not in James his shoes. J'onn is preparing dinner in the kitchen, which smells amazing by the way, while Brainy is questioning his seasoning decisions. You see Nia sitting at the kitchen counter, dozing off.

"Dinner is ready!", Kara announces, abruptly standing right in front of you two.

You wait for Alex to stand up first as you see Kara smiling at you with a particular look.

“What?!”, you softly whisper with an annoyed tone to Kara while Alex had already walked to the dinner table.

“Nothing”, she shrugs her shoulders casually with a caught look in her eyes.

You suspect that she knows about your affection towards Alex- Well, okay, crush on Alex. But you let it slide as your stomach is in need of some food, making a rumbling sound. You sit down at the dinner table, next to Alex of course (was to be expected, right? ;) ) while you see Kara shortly glancing at you with glinting eyes. As if she’s expecting something to happen between Alex and you...

“Let's eat!” Kara speaks to her guests when she raises her glass. “I want to make a toast first. A toast to good friends, new and old ones. Also, a toast to (Y/N) for being back here! We’ve missed you”

"Cheers to (Y/N)!, yes cheers!", you hear them all say while you shyly look away, not liking to be in the center of attention.

"Just breathe", you tell inside your mind while enjoying this moment with friends- No, family, finally, all back together again.

Continue with part 3