#she probably refused the first time he asked and then got vaguely offended that he didn't keep asking afterwards .

[hoofpeet]

Sneasler getting a little bit jealous over time when Ingo starts battling full-time and DOESN'T beg her to be on his team--> Enlisting herself in a battle to prove that she's good at fighting too

[meggiejolly]

I finished another scene for the RNM RWRB AU, this time the scene at the wedding where Alex dances with Isobel. I have also posted this scene as well as the previous one on AO3 which you can find here. You can find all the posts about this AU here.

Alex came over all princely and handsome with his hair perfectly styled even though it was still growing out of its military regulation cut. Michael wondered if the military really made such high ranking members of the royal family stick to the dress code like that, or if Alex had chosen to cut it. Maybe it had been a publicity stunt to make him look more normal and human. ‘Look at the fancy prince who is just like the rest of them.’ 

Michael couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the whole concept and Alex’s stupid handsome face with the stupid little scar in his forehead that somehow made him look even more perfect.

Alex eyes slid over the three of them, without even meeting Michael's eyes and he gave him and Max a vague nod before he focused on Isobel. Coward. 

"Hello Isobel," he said and offered her his arm in a posh way that made Michael want to gag and Max look like he might be taking notes. "Do you know how to waltz?" Alex asked and Isobel almost looks offended. 

"Of course I do." 

"Good, I'm afraid I might be a bit rusty," Alex said with a bashful smile and a rueful little gesture to his right leg that felt like a gut punch to Michael. With all the fancy clothes and wedding pomp he hadn't even realized that this had to be Alex' first public event without his crutch. 

Michael had been shocked right along the rest of the world when the news about Alex getting injured and loosing his leg in active duty had come out. It had sparked controversy and debate in all directions. Pro military, anti military, expanding the war on terror vs. demilitarizing and the pros and cons of having royalty serve in active duty. It had given fodder to both royalists and people wanting to abolish the monarchy. 

Michael had mostly been pissed at how much the whole thing had distracted him from his finals. 

Alex lead Isobel away, saying "We might have to take this a bit slower than you're used to."

Isobel answer something about not minding, but Michael refused to pay attention. He still watched them walk away though, before taking a gulp of his champagne and turning back to Max. "What's that supposed to be about? Is he trying to show us up by wooing our sister?" 

Max raised an eyebrow. "How is that showing us up?" 

Michael rolled his eyes, not dignifying the question with an answer. Instead he scanned the dance floor, trying to find Alex and Isobel. It wasn’t hard, quite a few people were watching them and giving them more space than any other dancing couple. Alex looked uncomfortable and like he wanted to be anywhere else. Which was ridiculous, he was dancing with Isobel after all, he should be honored. 

“Do you think he actually likes her?”, Michael asked Max who shrugged in response. 

“I don’t know. It might be a courtesy or for diplomatic reasons, or…” 

In that moment a Royal photographer snapped a picture of Alex and Isobel and Michael snorted. The picture would show up in at least one or two magazines within a week and probably spark ridiculous dating rumors. As if Isobel would date someone like Prince Alex. She had standards. 

“He couldn’t even let his brother get the media attention during his own wedding? Typical.” 

Max started to respond to that with something but Michael waved him off and reached for the nearest champagne bottle instead. Champagne wasn’t his it s preferred drink, but right now he didn’t care as long as it got him drunk.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

#100 cylene and laventon or surveyfam as a whole? I think it would work well with your take on the survey corps?

(101 ways to say i love you with actions 100: believing in them when everyone else doesn't)

OUGH YEAH IT DOES ... so here's 3 times sinensis cyllene did things because she felt like them and for no other reason aka: You're Not Fooling Anyone, Cyllene. also in case people forgot/have not heard (very likely) i write laventon's first name as everett

---

"So. You wanted to discuss something?"

Cyllene nods, meeting Kamado's gaze steadily. "I would like to revisit the recent discussion of the formation of a new corps, as proposed by Professor Laventon."

He pauses, and looks at her with something like disbelief. "You're already well aware of my reasons for refusal, Captain. The pitch may sound in theory—but without someone competent to supervise the whole thing, it's just an elaborate way to send our people to their deaths. Unless you've got some way around that—"

"I do. I would like to volunteer for the position of captain. Zisu can take my place as head of Security."

His eyes narrow. "You think she can replace you? Competent though Zisu may be, she isn't you."

"She's not," she agrees easily. "Which is why I need to supervise this. Consider it, commander. Think of how much we have to gain."

He considers her for a moment.

Then he inclines his head slightly. "What exactly do you see in his endeavor? It must be something, if you're staking this on it."

How is she meant to explain it to him? That Everett's passion is infectious? That when he goes off on his elaborate tangents, forgetting to check if she's still listening, when she should feel exasperated, she instead feels that inexplicable pull, that specific version of which she hasn't felt in years if not decades, telling her that this is something worth guarding?

She can't; she'd sound biased at best, and mad at worst. So she goes with the straightforward.

"I believe that our team will never be fully safe in Hisui until we properly understand our surroundings. Learning to coexist with the Pokémon around us is key to our survival. The Draconids achieved it through brute force and harsh selectivity, and," she gestures vaguely, like she can point to the empire that so many of them came from, "even if we had the manpower for that approach—we've all seen how that turns out. I think the professor's approach is worth trying."

"Hmm." He closes his eyes, reviewing her argument for a moment, and then says, "...well, I suppose you would know best about that. If you're overseeing the project, I'm willing to tentatively approve it. But I'll expect it to prove its worth quickly, or we'll have to reevaluate."

She gives a sharp nod. "Understood, commander."

When she delivers the news to Laventon, he's predictably overjoyed, even with the stipulations it necessarily comes with. She tells him the same thing she'd told Kamado, when he thanks her profusely—that she just sees the possible upsides of the project, nothing more—but he accepts that with a conspiratorial smile that she's not entirely sure she likes.

---

The sun is going down, and they're both sweaty and tired and probably not going to achieve much more, so Cyllene decides to call the training session there. Rei doesn't protest as he gets to cleaning his sword and putting things away, but he's terrible at hiding, and even she can tell something's eating at him.

"Sit down," she orders, pointing at the bench next to her without looking at him.

"I'm- fine," he grinds out the answer.

"I didn't ask if you were fine. I told you to sit." Her tone makes it clear that this is an order, and doesn't leave room for argument.

So, reluctantly, he drops down next to her. She hands him the water, and they sit in silence for a while, Rei glaring out at the darkening field like the scattered pieces of wood have said something to offend him.

Cyllene doesn't say anything. She knows she can just wait long enough to outlast him.

And sure enough, finally,

"Why am I even still doing this?"

He continues, without needing to be prompted, "I mean, if I'm moving to the Survey Corps, it's not like I need to be an amazing fighter. I mean it's not–" he glances over and rephrases. "It's not like it'll be useless, there'll still be wild Pokémon and everything but—I'm not—not... defending everyone. It's not like I'm going to be competing in any contests."

"You never know," she says, dryly enough that he's not sure whether or not she's joking. And then, more seriously, "You're a fully fledged Galaxy Team member. You can't be forced into anything. Stop being my apprentice if you hate it that much."

"But I don't hate it!" he protests, because he doesn't. It feels good. It's been a routine for almost half his life.

She gives him a sidelong glance. "I don't see what the issue is, then."

"I don't feel like I'm getting any better at it. I just keep throwing myself at the same things without improving, and it's not..." he kicks the dirt, glaring at it again. "Nobody actually expects me to be any good at it. They only stuck me here to get me out of the way."

A beat.

"Do you think I pitied your family? Or that they bribed me? Do you think either of those would get me to take you on as an apprentice?" She stands up, and turns so that she's looking down at him.

"Um."

"I do not waste my time on—frivolity. I have trained you for these years because I thought it was worth my time." She jabs a finger at him. "You are allowed to doubt your worth as a swordsman if and when I say you do, and absolutely no sooner. Understand me?"

"Yes, sir," he says, blinking up at her wide-eyed.

"Good. Now finish getting cleaned up. Next time I hear anything about quitting, it better be because you're sick and tired to death of doing the same five drills every time."

She doesn't want to think to hard about the softness in his voice when he says, "thanks."

---

"She had nothing to do with this!"

Cyllene's arm is out to the side, creating a physical barrier. Akari is behind her, and she really shouldn't be raising her voice because lack of composure is the first threat to victory, but fuck it, she's angry.

"I'm not going to stand idly by and watch as your baseless paranoia spills innocent blood," she continues, shouting only thinly reined in. "This is absurd and completely unacceptable."

"You'd take her side no matter what. She's got you completely fooled," says the person across from her, and Cyllene hears Akari's breath hitch unsteadily.

"I am the captain of the Survey Corps, and I have a duty to my people," she growls. She's not sure how obvious it is that the definition of her people is rapidly narrowing to a group of about three or four. "I assure you, I know Akari far better than you do, and I know that even if she had done what you're accusing her of—which, again, is ridiculous—this would still not be an appropriate response. Leave. Now. I won't warn you again."

Predictably, they don't take the order. The second they move another step forward, she's unsheathing her sword.

I don't care what she did, she wants to roar. I don't care if she fucking killed someone. I don't care if she doomed this entire skies-damned region. I'd gladly throw the rest of this trash into the fire before I let you lay a single hand on her.

"If you're so certain of this," she says instead, "then prove it. Come and get her." She levels her blade with the tip pointing at them. "But you'll have to go through me, first."

[julies-butterflies]

“One of us is starting to fall asleep.”-jukebox?

cuddle dialogue prompts  ( no longer accepting )                         ( read on ao3 )

By now, Julie knows that  Luke  and  sleep  don’t exactly get along.

Like... peanut butter and coleslaw. Studying and roller coasters. Alex and high school athletics. Luke and sleep are polar opposites, and flat-out don’t have time for each other. Whatever fundamental sequence of Luke’s DNA, whatever weird criss-cross firing of neurons in his head looks at a good night’s sleep, and decides, “nope, not for me...”

Well, Julie doesn’t  get it, but that’s how Luke’s made. Apparently, it’s how he’s always been, even when he was alive. Everyone else just has to deal with it.

“You’re keeping me up,” she announces, drawing her fuzzy blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Luke’s head shoots up, surprised — and sure, he’s got a right to be, considering it’s almost two in the morning. No sane person would be up this late. Not by choice, anyways... and Julie isn’t  choosing  to be awake herself. Something inside of her — one of those lightbulbs in her chest that blaze bright whenever the boys are near, that can feel them like a low, humming frequency even when they’re out of sight — is still awake, and buzzing. Late nights are like this. Whenever Luke can’t put himself to sleep — whether his brain is too loud, or his body too charged with energy — Julie feels it. She doesn’t want to, and definitely doesn’t enjoy it... but this is what her life has become. Being kept awake half the night by cute, insomniac ghosts.

He lowers his pencil slowly, and pulls his notebook against his chest. Luke sucks his cheeks, looking sheepish. 

“Sorry. I, uhh, I was just —“ He gestures vaguely around the darkened studio. A few faint snores echo from the loft, where Alex has set up a private space for himself. Reggie is face down on the sofa in a pile of blankets, hugging them to his chest like a kangaroo protecting its baby. (Julie’s going to have to get him a stuffed animal to snuggle one of these days; half the reason Luke doesn’t sleep, she suspects, is because Reggie’s such a blanket hog.)

The studio is dark except for a single light, glowing in the corner of the room. Luke is curled up there, with his notebook against his knees… but he wasn’t writing when Julie slipped in. He was glaring down at the page like it personally offended him. Now, he sets the notebook aside without a second glance, turning his full attention on her.

“Just felt like there was a song in my head, and I had to get it out. But it’s, uhh…” He gives his shaggy head a shake. “Not coming.”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re exhausted.” Julie crosses her arms. “It’s way past bedtime, Luke.”

“I’m a ghost, though.” He spreads his arms wide and leans back in his seat, like that’s something to be proud of. “Ghosts don’t  have  bedtimes.”

Without blinking, Julie crosses over to the couch and gives it a firm kick.

“Reggie? When’s your bedtime?”

Reggie snorts, popping his head up. “Ten-thirty,” he mutters… before faceplanting in the blankets again.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Reggie can have a bedtime if he wants to. I’m a free agent.”

“You’re an insomniac, and should probably talk to someone.”

“You know any good ghost doctors?”

Julie’s eye twitches. “We’ll  find  one.”

Tipping his head back towards the ceiling, Luke clicks his tongue. “I dunno, Jules, it’s been a while since my last checkup… I don’t got time for all the bells and whistles, you know? They’re gonna take that little hammer to my knee, and it’s gonna go right through me… they're gonna look for my heartbeat and be real confused... probably try to give me some spooky X-rays…” He gasps, and bolts upright. “Julie, they’re gonna find out I don’t have a skeleton!”

Okay, thinks Julie, the late hour is definitely getting to his head.

“Is that your excuse?”

The unexpected voice from the darkness sends them both jumping out of their skin. Luke flails, nearly falling out of his chair; blinking up at the loft, Julie’s eyes widen as a  phenomenal  mess of bedhead peeks out over the railing.

“We all know you’re afraid of needles. You haven’t had a booster shot in thirty years, Luke.” Alex glares down at them both. “Now, either shut up or go away, some of us are trying to sleep!”

Reggie holds up a hand, and mumbles something like “agreed,” into his pillow.

Clapping her palm over her mouth, Julie exchanges a sheepish glance with Luke. It takes every ounce of her self-control not to burst out laughing — Alex might actually start throwing things at them — but from the way Luke’s shoulders shake, she doesn’t trust him to hold out.

“Okay, sorry, we’re leaving,” she says in an hushed rush… and, before Luke can say another word, she snags him by the arm and pulls him with her.

They slip out the doors of the studio, and break into the humid night air. May in Los Angeles is just beginning to get hot -hot; warm enough to justify tank tops instead of sweatshirts, flip-flops instead of monster slippers. Julie’s pajamas aren’t anything interesting — Luke’s seen her in worse — but under the cool moonlight, his eyes still drink her in as if seeing her for the first time.

“You sleep with all those necklaces on?” he asks.

Okay, maybe he is seeing her for the first time, because Julie’s slept with her jewelry on since, like… sixth grade.

“You’re just noticing?”

“They’re pretty in the moonlight,” he replies, like it’s a foregone conclusion; then his brows furrow. “What if they choke you?”

“That’s not how it works, Luke.”

“Sure it is! All they need to do is get a little tangled up —“ He mimes, presumably, Julie doing acrobatics in her sleep. “And  wham,  you end up all strangled to death! I know we’ve got a gimmick, Julie, but we don’t gotta make it a full-phantom band so soon.”

“You say that like you’ve got plans for my death.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, the picture of innocence. “Not in the near future, but, y’know, we can't have you out-aging us…”

“Oh,” she says, beginning the long trek up the pathway to the house. “So I’ve got… two years before you guys decide to kill me. That’s reassuring.”

Luke follows after her, their footsteps echoing together. “Eh, we could stretch it to five. Six, tops. You’re tiny, you’ve still got a few good years left in you. Not like you’re gonna go all grandma on us  too  soon.”

Julie gasps, and swats at him. Luke accepts the hit to the chest with dignity, biting back a grin. He looks unfairly handsome in the moonlight… and Julie refuses to think about that, because it opens up a wole Pandora’s Box of issues, ranging from the obvious  (he’s a ghost eternally trapped at seventeen and, unless he somehow comes back to life through the power of music, I  am  going to get older than him someday)  to the serious  (he’s keeping me up at two in the morning).

Luke isn’t handsome. He’s a sleepless menace, and Julie shouldn’t entertain him a second longer.

They reach her door. Somehow, they come to a stop at exactly the same time, turning towards each other. Julie tugs her blanket tighter around her bare shoulders. Luke reaches out, and pulls the door open for her.

“I guess —“ he says.

“Yeah,” Julie agrees quickly. “Sounds good.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“Goodnight, then?”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

They smile at each other for a second, close-lipped and quiet… before something in Julie breaks, and she lays a hand on his arm. Somehow, he’s always so warm under her touch, so solid. He feels like a promise always kept… a steadiness, a certainty. A comfort.

“Come on,” she says softly, taking them both by surprise. “My bed has room for two.”

---------

He’s still so very warm, in bed next to her, with their legs tangled and bodies brushing whenever they move. It’s too humid for covers, so Julie’s got her favorite sheet, instead. As soon as Luke sees it, he billows it up into the air, and lets it fall down on top of them both like a parachute. Julie claps a hand over her mouth to hide her giggles. Even in the darkness of her bedroom — lit by the dimly glowing fairylights she only put on to keep Luke from tripping over her carpet — his grin is blinding. As the sheet flutters down over them both, she stretches her arms up to welcome it; he laughs so loudly, it’s a good thing her dad and brother can’t hear.

“This,” she huffs, once they’re both hiding under the covers, “this isn’t what we should be doing. It’s two in the morning.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Totally right.” Luke’s quiet for a moment — before shaking the covers again, causing a wave of air to roll over them. He makes a ridiculous whoosh! noise, and Julie snorts.

“Stop!” She swats at his shoulder again; the sound is harsher than the impact. Luke yelps and curls in on himself, feigning a mortal injury. Over his groans and moans and  “Julie, how could you”s,  Julie can’t restrain another fit of giggles.

Oh god, she’s gone for this boy. She really is.

It’s two in the morning, and she’s in hysterics in her bedroom over a boy no one else in the world can see… and he’s smiling at her like she’s the brightest star blazing in the sky, and his legs are brushing hers, and she can feel the pulse of his heartbeat, the warmth of his breath… which shouldn’t be possible, because he’s  dead.

Luke reaches up. Gently, he brushes a stray curl from Julie’s temple. His hand lingers, and Julie feels dizzy.

“This feels like heaven,” he says softly.

Julie’s breath catches.

“I… thought you said you’d never get there.”

“Yeah, well…” When he chuckles, his breath ruffles her hair. “I’m not much of a believer in the ‘all rockstars go to heaven’ kinda thing… I don’t even know if I buy into that stuff, period.” He shrugs, and glances down, at the bare inches of space in between them. “But this… is what it’d feel like, I think. Right here, with you. This kind of forever.”

“With...” She swallows past a throat that is suddenly too dry, forcing words together in a head that reverberates with  heaven  and  you. Forever. God, can they make this last forever?

Instead of speaking, her hand finds Luke’s in the darkness. Their palms press; their fingers intertwine. He is restless beneath her touch, all calluses and carelessness and nervous energy… but Julie holds him until she feels him relax, then slowly raises their hands up between them.

“I’d like that,” she whispers. “To stay here forever.”

His eyes shine bright. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She swallows. “As long as it’s with you.”

These are exactly the sort of confessions that could not be made any time other than late in the night, or early in the morning — that funny liminal space of existence, the hours where nothing is really real, and everything feels like it matters too much. Julie is floating, and Luke is right here with her. He’s smiling inches away from her face… and if she wanted to lean over, to close the distance between them, it would be as easy as breathing.

She doesn’t, though, because this moment feels sacred. She won’t claim it selfishly for herself — won’t turn it into something it’s not. This moment is shared, between her and Luke... secrets whispered in the dark for their ears alone. It should stay that way.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes softly, like it’s all he knows for sure.

“You’re amazing,” she replies, in the same voice.

“You’re a star.”

“You’re inspiring.”

“You make me feel alive again.”

“So do you.”

They exhale in the silence, the words floating through the air around them. Julie imagines she can see them glowing in the darkness. If she wanted, she could pluck them out of thin air, tuck them away in her dream box and save them forever. This feels like the sort of moment that belongs there — halfway between dream and waking, almost too good to be true.

For a while, they don’t talk at all. Luke plays with her hair, and Julie twines their fingers. Their breaths match each other’s in the silence. It feels like floating down a lazy river, and slowly, Julie can feel herself being carried away.

She’s only aware of her eyes getting heavier when Luke’s fingers graze her brow, and she can’t force her lids open to look at him.

“Looks like one of us is starting to fall asleep,” Luke teases, his voice soft.

Julie humms, and feels herself smile. “You.”

“Not me.” His voice is smiling, too. “You.”

“You need t’ sleep.” She exhales, and sees it ruffle his hair like leaves on a tree. His nose scrunches up. He doesn’t look drowsy — not like he’s drowning in it, like she is — but he’s not wide awake, either. His head is quiet, his soul is calm; the hive of bees buzzing in Julie’s chest has given up the ghost for tonight. (Little Luke-shaped bees, with beanies and guitars, who keep flying into everything because they’ve got too much energy…)

She bursts into giggles again at the thought. They spill from her lips like honey; she’s too tired to silence them, nevermind hide her grin. Instead, she slumps against Luke, muffling herself against his shoulder. He smells like pine needles and sunshine. His arms wrap around her back to steady her, and she can feel him smiling against her, and Julie thinks…

Julie thinks…

Forever.

“What’s so funny?” he murmurs into the crown of her head.

“Bees,” she replies, and giggles again.

“Oh yeah?” He hums, like this makes perfect sense. “I mean, yeah, they’re pretty hilarious.”

“Mmm.” She presses her face against his shoulder, and decides to stay there. “Mmm.”

For a long moment, he’s completely still — like the world’s most realistic stuffed animal, the coziest pillow ever made — before his hand tentatively begins to massage between her shoulder blades, running up and down her spine.

“You good, Julie?” he murmurs softly, and Julie humms again.

“Stay with me,” she manages to say.  Forever. “Sleep here… with me.”

Luke’s caress feels like a lullaby. The lips that graze her temple are a promise.

“Don’t worry, Julie,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Somehow,  forever feels good enough for tonight.

[gdcee]

Old Friends

Summary: Loki doesn't meet his three counterparts in the TVA's garbage dump at the end of time but someone else entirely.

Warnings: Some sexual innuendo. Troubling possessive childhood behaviour. Mention of unwanted sexual advances (not perpetrated by either of the main characters in the fic).

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

Loki considers the words neatly painted in bright red letters on the large signpost.

NO LOKIS (except for the kid and alligator they're cool)

He squints, wondering if his earlier rough landing has jumbled some connections in the language processing bits of his brain. He shakes his head and reads again.

Nope, he evidently did not misread the bit about the alligator.

"What in the name of Buri's wrinkly left-"

Before Loki can finish uttering the obscenity, an overwhelming aura of powerful magic smothers him. He barely has a chance to retaliate before he's swept away like a pebble in a fluvial flood.

He finds himself lying on the half-withered gray-green grass, staring incredulously at the softly glowing incorporeal fetters wrapped about his chest and ankles.

There's only one person he knows with this particular type of binding magic.

But no, no it couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be-

"You have a lot of nerve," her achingly familiar voice rings out in the desolate silence. Her equally familiar face comes into view as she leans over his prone form, "Coming here."

"Sigyn," he can only manage a hoarse whisper at first, but giddy elation soon overtakes shock, and his mouth widens in a cheeky grin, "Oh, I'm certainly not doing that at present but since you've already skipped past dinner to the bonda-"

Sigyn whacks him sharply on the head with her staff. Not hard enough to cause any pain, but hard enough to startle him into silence.

"Brazen," she sighs, sounding more exasperated than offended, "Every single one of you."

"I prefer cockyyy-" Loki trails off at the unamused glare she shoots him, "-shutting up now."

"Good choice."

Sigyn shakes her head and dispels the fetters that hold him. Though familiar, in truth, Loki hasn't felt her magic so close to him in centuries. Not since they were children and he was showing her how to conjure fireworks in her hands.

He wonders briefly if her hair still smells like apple blossoms.

"Come on," she reaches for his hand and pulls him to his feet without waiting for his assent, "Time to go. You know the rules."

"I don't actually," Loki tries not to look upset when she lets go of his hand (pathetic, Norns, he is pathetic), "I don't even know where...what this place is." He frowns, considering. "Probably not Hel since you're here."

Sigyn coughs a short, sharp bark of a laugh. There's no humour in it.

"This is Hel," she says, "In all but name."

"So...I'm dead?"

Sigyn sighs again, closes her eyes and blows at the loose strand of hair hanging in her face.

"Wonderful. You're a new one then. You remember being pruned, yes?"

"Yes. Not very pleasant."

"Quite. Well, this-" she moves one arm in a fluid, graceful arc, gesturing in grandiose fashion at the depressing panorama of refuse and ruined buildings littered about the grey landscape. "-is where the TVA sends their rubbish. Everyone they prune, any physical material from a reset timeline - it ends up here."

"Everything?" Loki quirks an eyebrow, "Seems a little empty of clutter if the refuse of millions of dead timelines is being dumped here."

"Ah. Yes, that would be the work of the giant purple cloud monster of eternal, ceaseless hunger that devours all within its path."

An ominous sounding growl underlaid with the rumble of thunder sounds faintly in the distance.

Loki looks towards the distant horizon and sees a large dark, purplish smear like a fresh bruise in the grey sunless sky. Light flares and something that vaguely resembles a galaxy-class battlecruiser falls from the heavens. Immediately, the great bruised mass is upon the hulking remains.

He is uncomfortably reminded of that ridiculous nightmare he used to have about being phagocytosed by a giant amoeba (he longs for such innocent days, when his bad dreams were the result of his overactive imagination processing tedious microbiology lessons and not recollections of the various horrors he has experienced).

"That would be Alioth. The giant purple cloud monster. Don't ask me who came up with that name. Now if you'll excuse me-" Sigyn turns briskly on her heel and heads off in the direction beyond the NO LOKIS sign.

"Wha- hold on! You're just going to leave?You're leaving me to that thing??"

"Oh please, you'll have plenty of time before it gets here. Besides," she mutters, "You're a Loki. There's a thousand of you in this Norns forsaken wasteland. Trust me, if there's one thing you all do very well, it's survive."

Her words hurt more than he wants to admit. That bad memory loop with Sif had been more painful for obvious reasons, but...he knew what Sif thought of him. Even back then, those words she'd thrown at him had not surprised him.

As a child, he'd always felt special to Sigyn. She'd wanted to be his friend, his own true friend and not just Thor's friend who didn't mind having Loki along for the ride. She'd liked the same things he did. She'd always laughed at his jokes and pranks.

He'd felt like he mattered to her.

Of course that had only made him abominably possessive. He just couldn't abide any other child having her attention. The fear of an insecure wretch - so terrified that if Sigyn looked away even for a moment, she would see something better, that she would find him wanting.

He shouldn't have been surprised when Sigyn did not protest at her father sending her to live with her late mother's relatives on Alfheim when her true powers manifested on the cusp of puberty.

He'd...he'd said such awful things to her before she'd gone. When two people have been friends for centuries, they know exactly what to say to make it hurt. Sigyn had given back as good as she got, but instead of petty childish insults, her accusations had rung with truth.

She'd known why no one wanted to be her friend, she'd known exactly what he'd been doing behind her back - all the tricks, all the schemes, everything he'd done to ensure that none would take his friend from him.

As a parting shot she'd declared that even though he'd been horrid, she had stayed his friend because she had cared about him. That he had been special to her and she hadn't wanted to lose him either.

It was one thing to lose his only friend besides his brother - it was another to know that all his fears had been naught but smoke and mirrors. That he had been awful, that he'd made Sigyn sad and disappointed for absolutely nothing.

She had returned to Asgard.

Eventually.

Týr could only use the excuse of his daughter's magical education for so long. Someone of her abilities was too important an asset for the Allfather to ignore.

In the end, they had come to a reconciliation (of sorts) because they were tired of avoiding each other.

Or perhaps, the more simple truth (that neither would have admitted to) was that they missed each other.

They were never again as close as they'd been as children, but they'd stayed friends (or friendly at least). On good enough terms that the Warriors Four had not sought her out to spin their tale of treachery and magical incursion (Sigyn certainly would have been the ideal person to subdue a treacherous, power-mad and magically gifted regent). But not on good enough terms that he would have approached her for help in his ill-conceived scheme to delay Thor's coronation (perhaps events would have played out more favourably if he'd had someone to bounce ideas off).

That had been his Sigyn anyway. The one who didn't even exist now. Reset into non-existence by the TVA along with everything else on the timeline he'd been taken from.

Did you mourn, he'd asked his brother.

We all did.

He wonders if the Sigyn he'd known had mourned him.

The Sigyn briskly walking away now seems ill-inclined to mourn any Loki. What had the Loki of her timeline done to make her want to have nothing to do with him? He isn't sure if he wants to know.

He is tired. So very, very tired. Tired of feeling responsible for things he has not done (yet? is it really destiny if your life is just a series of bullet points on a checklist created and enforced by a totalitarian bureaucratic organization built by person or persons unknown?). Tired of not being able to do anything to make amends for the things that he actually is responsible for.

Except...he can.

Sigyn isn't a memory construct, she is real, she is here.

It's just one thing, one little thing and it is paltry compared to the other ill-deeds he has committed (and the ones he is fated to commit)-

But it's something at least.

Loki catches up to her easily (being roughly a head taller has its advantages) and grabs the end of her staff.

"Sigyn-"

She fixes him with those sharp, dark eyes and he realises he doesn't know how he's supposed to start this. He swallows past the lump in his throat and says the first word that comes to mind.

"Please."

Her eyes soften just a little, but her mouth remains set in a firm, hard line, and she tries to tug the staff out of his grasp.

He doesn't let go.

"Stop trying to stall me."

"I'm not-" Loki bites back the instinctive protestation and soldiers on. "I need to tell you I'm sorry about what I said before Alfheim and for everything I did before that. I'm sorry that I was selfish, I'm sorry that I didn't trust you, I'm sorry I made you cry and...I'm sorry I wasn't a worthy friend to you."

"...Loki," her voice is soft, "That happened centuries ago. I'm not...I'm not even the Sigyn you need to apologize to."

"You're still Sigyn. You deserve one regardless."

Sigyn has that look on her face. That gentle, pensive consideration tinged with something soft and tender that he can't quite name. She used to look at him like that whenever he did something nice (whether unprompted or as an apology for something not so nice he'd done earlier).

Norns. This is getting awkward. Existential fear at the potential cessation of his existence and his childhood night terrors featuring improbably large unicellular organisms notwitstanding, Loki thinks he might not mind if that giant purple cloud trundled in right now and swallowed him up.

"Well, I'd best get on, hadn't I? Surviving and all that?" He coughs, "I...I'm...it was good to see you again. Thank you for not kneeing me in the crotch mid-apology. I appreciate it."

He turns to leave. He doesn't have a clue where to go, but the opposite direction from the purple cloud monster seems like a good start.

Maybe he'll survive long enough to come across Mobius. Half of him wants to find the man as soon as possible (perhaps also be complimented on his intelligence and the betterment of his moral condition). The other half hopes that he never sees him again (because brainwashed amnesiac variant or not, Mobius has subjected him to very unpleasant situations designed to psychologically shatter him. Loki is the last person in the universe who would hold someone entirely responsible for actions undertaken after their minds have been tampered with, but still. Just because he understands doesn't mean he can forget.)

As for Sylvie...Loki doesn't want to think about it, but if the TVA is smart, they wouldn't prune her. They wouldn't risk a repeat of whatever had happened on Lamentis-1, and since he is already here...

"Catch."

The improbable sound of Sigyn's voice startles him from his ruminations and without thinking his hand shoots up to intercept the small rectangular object wrapped in plastic and foil before it hits his face.

Loki stares at the granola bar (expiry date 12/12/2075) incredulously and then at Sigyn, walking briskly at his side and keeping pace with his long strides.

"I thought you-"

"You looked hungry."

"Sigyn, I believe this is what the Midgardians call 'giving mixed signals'."

"Look," she sighs, "I've been looking for...someone very dear to me for a very long time. I can't deny I feel some resentment for everyone I meet wearing his face. My baggage isn't an excuse for my rough treatment of you. It was unfair of me, and I apologise."

He blinks, not quite sure what to make of what she's telling him. Sigyn had never been one to mince words, she either said exactly what was on her mind or nothing at all.

That she is being deliberately vague and yet throwing up strong implications with her choice of words means that she does not want to lie but believes the truth is not something that he will be happy to hear.

Well, by now he's had a lot of experience dealing with unpleasant truths. Another one added to the pile is hardly going to hurt.

Sigyn has just started drinking from a battered metal canteen when he voices his suspicions.

"It's Theoric, isn't it?"

She chokes and spits out half of her drink.

"What?!" She wheezes, "What in Ymir's hoary arse gave you that idea?!"

"Didn't you fancy him back in-" Loki grimaces, snapping his fingers as he tries to pinpoint the date in question, "That year when burgundy was all the rage. Burgundy, scandalously low necklines and uncomfortably tight trousers."

"I went on a date with him because he was handsome, he was annoying me and I was young and stupid," she sneers, "He tried to put his hand up my skirts an hour into the picnic so trust me, after that I wanted nothing to do with the louse."

Something a little too much like that old familiar selfish anger bubbles up in his chest.

"He dared," he growls, "He dared to put his hands on you. He should have had his filthy paws struck off at the wrist for the insult to your dignity."

"Eat your granola, don't crush it," Sigyn says calmly, "In any case, I resolved the situation quite easily and without bloodshed."

"Shame," Loki mutters. He takes a bite of the now somewhat crumbly Midgardian snack and wrinkles his nose at the taste. "So how did you handle that son of a bitch?"

"I rendered him impotent for a year. I would have kept it permanent but he came crawling on his hands and knees begging for my forgiveness, swearing on the souls of his ancestors never to trouble me again, vowing to gift me his firstborn as my thrall etcetera etcetera..." she shrugs, "What can I say? I'm soft."

Loki doesn't remember the last time he's laughed this hard.

[hotchnisslovechild]

On the Sidelines

Chapter One

Holly and Marvyn meet and have a few beers.

A/N: i've recently fallen in love with the show big shot and grown quite attached to the relationship between holly and marvyn. i'll be needing something to hold me over as i wait for season 2 to be announced and released *fingers crossed*, so i thought i'd write a little something about these two. i’m not sure if any of you on here watch the show at all, but i feel like posting this here anyway. i recommend binging the first season of the show on disney+ :)

Pairing: Marvyn Korn/Holly Barrett (Big Shot) Rating: T Word Count: 2,302 AO3 Link

Today is the day. The day Holly gets to meet her new coaching partner and the team meets their new head coach. Changing into her practice clothes, something resembling both anxiety and excitement burrows itself in Holly’s nerves. Her thoughts run wild as she anticipates meeting the great Coach Marvyn Korn for the first time.

Holly would be lying if she said she didn’t have a little crush on Coach Korn. Of course, she admired his great looks, but she found his coaching to be just as fascinating, if not more. Watching him coach was electrifying. He’s animated, excited, always moving around, unable to sit still for a single play. He saw the court and everything happening all at once, managing his players like a brilliant conductor of an orchestra. She learned a lot from him by studying his coaching methods at Wisconsin from the comfort of her living room couch. He unknowingly taught her about defensive schemes and rotations, end-of-game scenarios, the importance of teaching your players every detail of the game and correcting their mistakes so they can improve. He undoubtedly loved the game and coaching it. His enthusiasm for the sport was infectious to his team in every game, and it paid off. That was until he threw it all away. And ended up here, at an all-girls private high school in California.

Taking a deep breath, the assistant coach walks into her office, her excited nerves to make a good impression mingling with her eagerness to get the season started with a new coach.  After tapping Shave and a Haircut on the window separating her office from Marvyn’s, she lets herself in, extending a hand to greet him.

“Holly Barrett, Assistant Coach,” she greets with an enthusiastic smile, borderline out of breath from the anticipation of finally meeting him. She studies him. His looks. His demeanor. He looks better than he did on TV — if that’s even possible. She finds his dark features beguiling. And those eyes. She could get lost in those light-colored eyes. There’s a lack of actual light in them, however. He seems unenthused, maybe a bit on edge. But she shrugs it off, attributing the lack of energy to nervousness.

“Marvyn Korn,” he says, shaking her outstretched hand, holding on to it a bit longer than necessary, caught off guard by the bright energy of the woman standing before him. She’s the first person at this school to greet him in a way that resembles any sort of kindness. No one at Westbrook wants him there. Hell, he doesn’t even want to be there. This is just one step towards getting back to college ball.

“It’s a great honor, Coach,” she says, letting go of his hand and walking towards the front of his desk, “I’m a big fan. You have no idea,” she admits, trying her hardest not to come across as creepy or weird. They are going to be working together pretty closely for the next few months, so she wants to start things off right with him, not scare him away or freak him out. She’s sure he’s already a bit freaked out being transplanted into an all-girls high school after coaching college men for so many years, and she’s not caught off guard when he then asks her for advice on coaching girls.

“Well, I'm tempted to say just treat 'em like the boys,” she starts, debating whether or not she wants to continue that thought. It’s probably not the best idea to offend the head coach on his first day on the job.

“But?” he pushes.

“You didn't treat the boys so well,” she answers matter-of-factly.

“Do you have any advice that might actually be helpful?”

She tells him that the girls on this Westbrook team are future leaders who are anxious to get started and can be a bit much. “Don’t pretend, they’ll see right through it,” she adds finally. And I’ll see right through it she thinks. “Other than that… let’s go coach some basketball,” she says brightly.

Marvyn tries his best not to roll his eyes as he gets up from his chair and heads onto the court to meet the girls. He doesn’t want to be there. He doesn’t want to coach a bunch of rich high school girls. Everything about this gig is a demotion for him. From college to high school. From men to girls. His disregard for this job is anything but hidden as he walks out of his office, dreading the official start of his role as Head Basketball Coach at Westbrook.

Holly follows closely behind him, excited and ready for a fresh start with a new coach to work with. Their previous coach had been nothing short of insufferable, constantly telling Holly she had no say in the team, diminishing her role as a coach, making it clear she was not in charge. Despite his harshness towards Holly, he coddled the girls on the team, always telling them what they wanted to hear. The lack of discipline never got the team anywhere, but Holly bit her tongue, knowing that whatever she had to say didn’t matter to her then-colleague. Marvyn gives her a sliver of hope for the team’s future and hers. She knows Marvyn will run things differently, and she hopes that this change will be a good change.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

After one practice and not even one drink into their casual rendezvous at a sports bar, Holly concludes that Marvyn certainly is different from their previous coach, but she’s hesitant to consider the change a positive one. He takes the game too seriously, prioritizes the end goal of winning and success over the feelings of the girls on the team. To him, they are just pawns in his own lifelong game of basketball. They are X’s and O’s, not individuals worthy of being treated with respect. He practically committed every sin of working with teens in the book. He demeaned them, embarrassed them, and disrespected them all in the span of one practice.

“My life is basketball,” he begins, “Everyone in my life are basketball players. A good coach can't be successful if he becomes friends with his players.”

“What about after work?”

“There is no after work. Not if you wanna win. There's diagramming plays, there's watching tapes, the recruiting, but there's no after work.”

Holly lets out a breath. His version of reality is nearly incomprehensible to her. Never in her life has she met someone more polarizing and stuck in his way than this man in a tracksuit sitting in the booth with her. She almost feels sorry for him. He doesn’t have any friends, and he spends all of his time thinking about basketball and how to make his team better.

“I guess I don't have to ask what happened to your marriage,” Holly says boldly, venturing into the untouched territory of his personal life as she takes a sip of her beer.

“Nope. What happened to yours?” he returns. He checked her out in the teacher portal the day before. He’s all about preparation, and that does not exclude doing some research on his assistant coach.

Her eyes grow wide. How the hell did he know I was previously married? She thinks to herself. “None of your business,” she retorts, sidestepping his question as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, not wanting to air out her dirty laundry in front of her colleague, especially considering they just met some few hours ago.

“It is my business. Add to that, you opened the door because you asked about my marriage.” She scoffs in response, now regretting bringing up the topic of failed marriages.

Marvyn opens up about his divorce first, telling her that his wife left him, which Holly deduces was because Marvyn is such a workaholic. “She figured that she deserved more, that she could do better. So she did,” Marvyn explains. “Your turn.”

“Same,” she utters, wanting nothing to do with this conversation any longer, “He realized he could do better.”

“Why?” He pushes once more, his stubbornness starting to set Holly’s nerves on fire.

“None of your business,” she says, her voice laced with more attitude than she intended.

“If it speaks to your character, it is my business.”

Looking down at her lap, Holly lets out a quick breath. She has her back up again the door of the closet, refusing to expose the skeletons locked in there. Her marital past is not something she’s particularly proud of or that she looks back on with much joy. It’s hard to talk about without feeling embarrassed, feeling ashamed that she had an affair with a man named Matt, who happened to be her husband’s best friend.

The neglect from her husband eventually pushed her over the edge to do what she would never forgive herself for. The person who was supposed to love her the most in this world stopping caring. She was left unfulfilled and disconnected from the man she once loved. He was absent. Even when he was there, he wasn’t actually there. They didn’t even bother to fight anymore. They simply coexisted in a house that no longer felt like home.

She really wasn’t thinking at all when it happened the first time. She had an itch to scratch, and Matt was there.

“I cheated on him,” Holly discloses finally, “I had an affair. Worst thing a spouse can do, I suppose. Short of neglect, maybe,” she explains, purposefully vague, hoping he doesn’t interrogate her further.

“Are you saying my betrayal was worse?” he asks, suddenly feeling defensive.

“I’m saying his was worse. But yeah, yours too, I guess, if that's what you're guilty of.” The weight of her words hangs in the air between them. He watches as she shifts once more in her seat, visibly uncomfortable with the level of openness of the conversation.

Holly sighs. “Wow. This is a really nice ‘How do you do? Let's get a beer’,” she says with a subtle bite of sarcasm, avoiding his gaze and reaching for her beer.

“This isn't a ‘How do you do? Let's get a beer’. You have an agenda.” She rolls her eyes at his accusation, although there is some truth to it. She does have something she wants to talk to him about. “You clearly have an agenda, so get to it.”

“You are profoundly unlikable. You know that, right?” She doesn’t even try to hide the sourness of her tone.

“You're just scratching the surface. If you have something to say to me, please say it. 'Cause I'd like to get back and work on the Laguna game.”

God, he’s so fucking persistent. “Okay.” She set aside her beer, leaning in towards him. “Marvyn, these are high school girls we are working with. I know your tried-and-tested ways of coaching got you far at the collegiate level, but these girls can’t be treated like they are men in college.”

“And why not?” Her point evidently went right over his head.

“Because they are different. They don’t handle criticism like those men do. They take things personal. They won’t be responsive to your derogatory, hotheaded way of giving feedback or your ‘my way or the highway’ mentality. These girls need to be inspired and supported, not embarrassed and disrespected. These girls don’t just kiss the ring. If they aren’t respected, they are going to try to get the upper hand. And they are quite good at it.”

“They’re not gonna get the upper hand with me,” he counters.

“Look at how scared of this you are.” She can’t understand how it’s so hard to just receive these girls as the complex people they are. This team won’t get anywhere if he doesn’t let go of all his unreasonable preconceptions and connect with these girls. He’s so stuck in this mindset that the team is beneath his abilities that he doesn’t realize he could actually learn something from these girls. And he shouldn’t be afraid of that. Holly is always learning new things from her students and players. When is Marvyn going to get it through his head that he can learn from these girls just as much as they can learn from him? It’s a two-way street.

“This is another thing. You don’t know me,” he snaps defensively, “so don’t pretend that you know me.”

“I don’t want to know you,” she says coolly, “I just want what’s best for the team,” she assures him, feigning sincerity, telling him exactly what he wants to hear whether it’s what she wants to say or not.

“Yeah.” He nods his head, thinking she’s finally seeing things from his point of view.

“Is that a good answer?” she asks as she raises her eyebrows, revealing the insincerity of her previous words. His face drops, catching on to her little game. She’s irritatingly clever.

The conversation comes to a quick end, interrupted by the other patrons of the bar cheering and applauding, celebrating a touchdown in the football game playing on all of the TVs.

They find themselves back in that same booth at the same sports bar the next night. As they sip on their beers, Marvyn expresses his doubts about coaching this team, telling Holly that he just doesn’t think he can do it.

“What else?” he asks after bringing up everything that’s happened with the girls in just his two first days, speaking so frantically Holly could hardly keep up. “What the hell else?” His apparent distress over coaching a bunch of high school girls makes her laugh. You would think the world was coming to an end based on how he was acting.

“I know. You're not prepared. Welcome to high school,” she quips.

“I- I had no idea what I was in for.”

Clearly.

[ibijau]

I saw a post about, not sure where god!lxc fic goes next? I assume nhs insists on going back to the cave to make a proper offering. Lxc accompanies b/c nhs is still a little sick and nmj is busy. Nhs continues panicking about this uber-powerful god. Lxc enjoys the offering, it's nice, but not the panicking, and hey he committed to being honest? so he tells nhs he's the god. This does not have the calming effect he was hoping for --the anon who got super excited about god!lxc can't read sideplot

ok so, didn’t quite use all of that, but big thanks anon for giving me a way to at least write a little more on that AU which is very dear to me

Price of Wishes on AO3 (can’t remember my tumblr tag for it... orz)

Lan Xichen stares at the altar.

It is a small one, hurriedly installed among others inside the Unclean Realm. Its only decoration is a bolt of pale embroidered fabric from which Nie Huaisang apparently once wanted to have a robe made, and a portrait of Lan Xichen that Nie Huaisang personally painted, as promised in the temple. It doesn’t look like Lan Xichen does in this mortal form, and it probably doesn’t look the way he once did as a god, but the main attributes of his last remaining statue are there.

How long has it been since he was granted a new altar? Not since before this Nie sect even came to be, he thinks.

And now not only was he given this altar, but there are offerings on it. Nie Huaisang put incense to burn and offered flowers and rice, yes, but surprisingly others did the same, and thanked Lan Xichen for keeping their young master safe when he ran away. Even the stern Nie Mingjue, who clearly didn’t share his brother’s certainty about a godly intervention, still lit up some incense and bowed before the altar, simply because he realised how much it mattered to Nie Huaisang.

It had been a flight of fancy to help that boy and get him into the temple, just a sudden impulse to feel like a real god again, but Lan Xichen finds himself more than rewarded for this kindness. If he can keep this up, if they continue honouring him, he might well survive a century more.

Lan Xichen had forgotten what hope feels like.

But hope or not, Lan Xichen knows to whom he owes this. As days pass, he sticks close to Nie Huaisang, who is currently his strongest believer. Even the old lady, dear to Lan Xichen as she is, never had such unwavering faith in his power. She prays to him mostly out of habit, while Nie Huaisang does so out of conviction. Being near him feels like stepping into the sun after an eternity in darkness, and Lan Xichen cannot get enough of the sensation.

Besides, if they are to be married, he needs to know more about the young man whose life he will share.

Nie Huaisang is an interesting person, Lan Xichen thinks. He acts a little spoiled, but of course he is young, and Lan Xichen vaguely understands that the Nie family has gone through rough times in the recent past, and Nie Huaisang’s childishness might be how he dealt with it. At his core, Nie Huaisang is more serious than he lets on. For example, he is determined to fully repay the debt he contracted toward Lan Xichen. The altar he set up is but a first step. In spite of his brother’s warnings, Nie Huaisang has inquired what it would cost to have a safe road to the mountain temple, just as he promised to do. In fact, he goes beyond his promise, determined to find every possible detail about Lan Xichen so that he may be worshipped properly. To that end, he spends day after day in Qinghe Nie’s immensely rich library, reading through books with a speed which astonishes Lan Xichen, writing letters to make inquiries as if it is the easiest thing in the world.

Lan Xichen thinks Nie Huaisang might just be the cleverest person he has ever met, and the most stubborn as well. Both are qualities he appreciates in a follower, and in a person.

It’s quite funny to Lan Xichen to realise that Nie Huaisang is considered lazy. Perhaps he only puts efforts into things that interest him. Lan Xichen, of course, is glad to be one of those things.

In general, he’s just glad to be around Nie Huaisang. The steady warmth of belief is quite nice, of course, but that’s not the only reason. Nie Huaisang, although he apparently realises to some degree that Lan Xichen shouldn’t exist as a mortal, still tries hard to be kind to him. He gives him delicious foods, and tries to find subtle ways to look for gaps in Lan Xichen’s knowledge of the mortal world so he can fill him in and help him fit in better. He is a pleasant person to talk to, a pleasant person to silently spend time with, a pleasant person to look at even, his youthful face showing every sign that he will develop into a handsome man someday.

In just this little time, Lan Xichen finds himself quite fond of this little mortal. It won’t be unpleasant to marry him as agreed.

First, though, Nie Huaisang must mature. And part of that means heading out toward the Cloud Recesses, where Lan Xichen himself is supposed to come from, according to the narrative Nie Huaisang demanded in his prayer. It is a stressful perspective, since Lan Xichen isn’t sure he is quite strong enough to shift reality around people who have much stronger reasons to refuse his intrusion into their life, but he will try his best. It is the deal he made with Nie Huaisang, and he will see it through.

To Lan Xichen’s relief, just before they are set to head south toward Gusu, Nie Huaisang begs his brother for a full ceremony at the mountain temple, with incense and prayers and everything that can be done to honour Lan Xichen. Nie Mingjue grumbles and complains and even gets angry, but he eventually gives in, as seems to be common for him when his brother makes a request. Nie Mingjue is a wise man, and he apparently understands that little can be done when Nie Huaisang is in a mood to be stubborn about something.

So the three of them head out into the mountain, followed by a few Nie disciples who carry food offerings and some tools to clean the temple.

The temple’s floors are swiped clean. Rubbles are removed. The nearly faceless statue has its layers of dust carefully cleaned away by Nie Huaisang who climbed on its pedestal so he can reach every part, revealing details that Lan Xichen himself had forgotten. There are even some traces of colour here and there.

“I’ll have to make another portrait,” Nie Huaisang notes. “Mine isn’t accurate at all after all.”

“I’m sure this god is already more than happy with what you have given him,” Lan Xichen says, lifting his gaze from the altar he’s wiping clean. It is a struggle to keep himself from crying from joy, and his voice comes out a little strangled, but Nie Huaisang doesn’t appear to notice.

“I need to do better,” Nie Huaisang says with a shiver. “I cannot risk offending him.”

He sounds almost afraid, and his hands tremble slightly as he carefully dusts the statue. Lan Xichen stares at him a moment more, and sighs.

However pleasant everything else has been, this is one thing that doesn’t sit right with him. For whatever reason, Nie Huaisang seems to be afraid of his god self, and it taints his every prayer. This doesn’t change the value of those prayers, it doesn’t make his belief any less strong and valuable, but Lan Xichen can feel that fear almost constantly and he doesn’t enjoy it. He is too used to the old lady’s belief, simple and companionable. She treats him like an old friend to whom she can make requests, and he wishes Nie Huaisang would do the same. They are set to be married, it is the deal, and Lan Xichen doesn’t like the idea of a union set in fear. 

“I am sure that god would not be offended,” Lan Xichen quietly insists. “You haven’t found anything about him in all your books and your letters, have you? So he must not be a very important god, and your efforts are sure to have been noticed and appreciated.”

“But it’s not enough,” Nie Huaisang retorts, gritting his teeth. “It can’t be enough. Nothing I do is ever enough, there’s got to be more I could do!”

Lan Xichen frowns, and looks around until his eyes land on Nie Mingjue. He heard this, and is staring at his brother with some concern.

From what Lan Xichen understands, the reason Nie Huaisang took refuge in his temple a few weeks ago was because of a great argument with Nie Mingjue regarding his capacity to do… nearly anything, really. Nie Mingjue, taking Lan Xichen as the confident Nie Huaisang asked that he be, admitted to him one day that he is terribly worried for his brother’s future. There might be a war, he said, and Nie Mingjue could die in it and leave Nie Huaisang alone to lead their sect before his time. Nie Mingjue confessed he is terrified that the elders of their clan won’t respect Nie Huaisang because his mother was of lesser birth, that some of their cousins will attempt to rob him of his birthright, that even if he becomes sect leader he will not be respected and some people will try to take advantage of his inexperience. So Nie Mingjue pushes his brother as hard as he can, demanding more efforts, more results, but it is all in vain because Nie Huaisang has stubbornly decided he isn’t good at anything that matters, and refuses to try anymore.

It was a terrible argument they had that day, Nie Mingjue said. And then, proving all his fears right, Nie Huaisang nearly died after running away and catching a fever, showing to all his future enemies how vulnerable a target he would be without Nie Mingjue to protect him. At the same time, that Nie Huaisang was ready to run away showed that he took it to heart every time he was scolded for not doing more, and now Nie Mingjue doesn’t know how to handle him anymore.

After Nie Mingjue confided in him this way, Lan Xichen promised he would look after Nie Huaisang, no matter what. It is part of the deal, as far as he’s concerned, because spouses must support one another, but also…

Lan Xichen is quickly becoming quite fond of this pair of brothers. Having been lonely for so long, he finds joy in the closeness they share, no matter how strained it might be at times. It is clear to him that Nie Mingjue loves his brother, though he struggles to show it when he has so much on his mind, and Nie Huaisang feels the same, to the point it was inconceivable for him to marry someone who wouldn’t be friendly with Nie Mingjue.

“Nie gongzi, you’ve done all you could for that statue,” Lan Xichen says, grabbing Nie Huaisang by the waist and pulling him down from the pedestal.

Nie Huaisang squeaks in surprise, fighting for a second before going rigid with fear as Lan Xichen puts him down. His face is a bright crimson when he looks up at Lan Xichen, who wonders whether that’s anger at being manhandled this way, but the other Nie just start laughing at his expression.

“Don’t seduce my brother like that, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue scolds, more of a joke than a real warning. “Look at him, he’s two heartbeat from asking for your hand now.”

Amazingly, Nie Huaisang manages to blush an even brighter colour, and leaps away from Lan Xichen. Nie Mingjue laughs again, apparently content with his brother’s perceived crush. Perceived, or real. Lan Xichen isn’t really sure what goes on in Nie Huaisang’s mind. He can feel is never ending flood of belief, the undercurrent of fear, but no particular affection so far. Then again, with fear that strong, it would be hard for any other emotion to flourish. Lan Xichen hasn’t wanted to talk directly about their situation yet, assuming that Nie Huaisang might want the illusion that this is all perfectly normal, but he’s rethinking that strategy. It is clear that Nie Huaisang, for whatever reason, is immune to the narrative that Lan Xichen created for his sake, so why not talk about it openly? If it can make Nie Huaisang any less afraid…

That is a problem for later. Right now, the temple is as clean as can be achieved with what little time they have available, so Nie Mingjue conducts the ceremonies necessary to consecrate the temple again, and invites Lan Xichen to inhabit again this place dedicated to him. Incense is put to burn for him, offerings are left on the altar, thanks and prayers are presented to him. Even Nie Mingjue, so openly reluctant to believe that there was any divine intervention to help his brother survive in the mountain, does provide a small stream of belief, hinting at a mind just as strong as his brother’s. Lan Xichen hopes that they can truly become friends over time, though he is unsure that’s possible with the lies he’s had to weave so he could fulfill Nie Huaisang’s request.

Still, there’s no harm in trying. If Lan Xichen is to spend one lifetime as a mortal, he wants to make the best of it, not only as a god in need of believers, but also as a person left alone far too long.

[apiratewhopines]

In the Offing

Summary: AU - Storybrooke - Emma Swan is drafted to help Liam Jones clear his brother’s name in the disappearance of a former flame. As she digs deeper into the rash of missing person cases, she risks losing more than just her heart as she uncovers the truth.

Chapter One - Pilot

Summary: In which our heroine embarks on an adventure

“Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass

Til the road and sky align”

-Angela, The Lumineers

If asked, Emma Swan would land firmly in the ‘It was a dark and stormy night’ camp rather than the ‘Once Upon a Time’ one.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in happiness and true love and good triumphing over evil. She did. Or at least she tried to believe in them, which was nearly the same thing.

It was just that in her experience, relationships were more likely to end in indifference and divergent roads at best or disappointment, deceit and violence at their worst. It rarely ended in laughter over the dinner table, surrounded by the people you loved and admired. In fact, it never ended that way for her. And she was fine with that. Or at least she tried to believe she was, which was not nearly the same thing.

So it was without the slightest bit of surprise that she made her way back to her office from yet another honey trap date, her third this week if anyone was keeping track. She didn’t anymore, had stopped wondering years ago how there were so many cheating spouses and deadbeat dads and none too bright criminals in one city. Nor did she have the energy to wonder why she found her doorway blocked by the broad form of her sometimes collaborator, sometimes competitor, always annoying quasi-neighbor.

“What do you want, Liam? I’m not staying. I’m only dropping off paperwork so I can go home and mourn the loss of human decency uninterrupted.”

“Perhaps a bath would be more helpful, lass. You smell like a walking distillery,” he replied, not bothered by her unfriendly tone and refusal to meet his eyes as she elbowed him out of the way and unlocked the door. “Were you drowning your sorrows or were they drowning you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I caught the guy who did this and he smells like jail now so I would say I won,” she muttered, bristling only a little bit when he followed her inside. She would like to say that she and Liam had a complicated relationship but the truth was they tolerated each other when they had to and avoided each other when they didn’t. She could count on him to be professional, which unfortunately was not a given in their line of work, and his complete disinterest in her as a person was a quality she appreciated, having never been someone who craved attention or willingly engaged in small talk.

Now that she thought about it, he was probably one of the better connections she had made in Boston. If his self-righteous, holier-than-thou attitude chafed at times...well, no one was perfect. She had met him when her boss moved their bail bonds office operations to their current location and with his private investigation business occupying the suite next door, they would throw work each other’s way when it made sense. Despite knowing him for nearly two years, she would be hard-pressed to recall a single interaction after hours or off the job so even though she was tired and her feet were killing her from running down tonight’s skip in stiletto heels, she was a little curious about why he was there. “Barry isn’t here.”

“If I was looking for Barry, this is the last place I would be.”

She snorted as she dropped off a packet of reports on the nearest desk. The truth was that her boss, who also happened to own the business, was probably cruising off the coast of Florida at that very moment and hadn’t stepped foot in the office since they moved. But she considered absenteeism a great quality in a boss so she wasn’t complaining.

Sighing, she turned around to face him. She leaned against the desk behind her and hoped he didn’t notice her flexing her feet in an attempt to keep them from cramping. “As nice as it is to catch up, I’ve had a long night. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“Henry mentioned that he was going to spend the summer with his father when he came by last week,” Liam stated as if that explained everything. Henry’s capacity to make friends never ceased to astound her and was definitely a characteristic he inherited from Neal. Even curmudgeonly Liam Jones had fallen victim to her kid’s ability to engage with anyone. Little did her visitor suspect that reminding her that she had nearly eight weeks of going home to an empty apartment was not the best way for him to start a conversation.

It had been with great trepidation that she had agreed to the trip at all. After years of fielding her son’s questions about his father, she used her considerable tracking skills to finally run her ex to ground about eighteen months ago. Enough time had passed for her to forgive him, although she doubted she would ever forget, but she felt she owed Henry the chance to at least meet his father. And of course, they had hit it off as she had both hoped for and feared.

She had worried, apparently needlessly so, that Neal would quickly lose interest in the son he hadn’t know existed and was inconveniently located in a different state. However, the man who had no issues with abandoning her a decade ago had surprised her. He called Henry every day and made the trip at least once a month to visit. He had shown up and supported Henry in ways she hadn’t expected and it reminded her that not all the times had been bad and maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a villain. When Neal had approached her about a long distance trip that spanned their son’s entire summer break, her first reaction was to forbid it but she knew Henry needed it. Although she would never admit it to Neal, she had also appreciated that he had brought it up with her first rather than sending Henry to talk her into it.

Still, it had physically hurt her to see them walking away together at the airport yesterday, similar gaits and probably with matching, wide smiles on their faces.

Now her interaction with her son would be reduced to a couple of texts a day and FaceTime calls a few times a week while Henry had the time of his life gallivanting around California with his father and future stepmother. In a flash, she went from tired and curious to tired and pissed. “Right. Glad you reminded me before I made it home and called the police about a kidnapping. Did you need something, Liam, or are you just trying to bother me?”

“Both. Obviously,” he said dryly.

“Great, he’s got jokes,” she groaned as she threw her head back in frustration. “I should warn you that I’ve already punched one jerk tonight. I’m hungry and exhausted and if you don’t get on with it, I’m not afraid to add another one to the list.”

He sighed and for the first time she noticed the tenseness in the way he was holding himself. Whatever the reason for his visit, it obviously had him wound up pretty tightly. Against her better judgement, she felt her curiosity stirring again.

“Fine, since you’re obviously not fit to be out in public,” he said with a vague gesture toward her whiskey-flavored dress, “order some delivery and let’s talk.”

—

The smell of cheese did a lot to restore her good humor. She watched him from under her lashes as he looked at the meat-lovers pizza with what approached horror in his expression. She never pegged him as a health food nut, although she could tell he took care of himself, so maybe what offended him was the grease that had soaked through the box to the papers that were stacked neatly on his desk. Tearing off a large slice, she hummed happily while she took the first scorching bite.

“I need a favor,” he stated without preamble before he too took a bite and glanced at her with a pained look in his eye.

She was pretty sure that this was the first time he had ever uttered those words in his life and that was probably the source of his discomfort rather than the molten lava cheese he just swallowed. She tried not to show any interest even though hundreds of questions wanted to escape her mouth. She wanted to ask when they started doing favors for each other and why he was acting like a caged animal. Instead, she settled for something that he would probably find a bit more in character considering their past interactions. “Would this be the type of favor that involved payment of some sort?”

“It will, if that gets the job done quicker,” Liam answered, staring intently at his half eaten slice.

“Well, that would depend on if we’re talking about an hourly rate or a flat fee,” she joked. “I have typically found that payment is the best way to insure a job gets done.”

Something was definitely bothering him and damn if that didn’t make the hair on the back of her neck stand up and chase a shiver down her spine. With a hint of disgust she threw her uneaten crust down on her plate. She already knew that whatever he was about to ask, she was going to agree to so she continued, “Might as well spit it out, I would like to go home and get some sleep sometime this century. What kind of favor do you need?

“The kind of favor that involves going away for a couple of weeks and solving a cold case.”

Of all the things she thought he was going to ask, actual work didn’t even make the top ten list so she was a little letdown. His discomfort had her prepared for anything from being a date to an ex’s wedding to a surprise twist of being asked to babysit his previously unknown kids. Even a mundane request to water his plants while he was on vacation would have been more interesting. She wasn’t entirely sure Liam was human and it would have been fascinating to see the lair he crawled back to when he wasn’t in the office.

“Why the cloak and dagger routine? You made me think something was horribly wrong,” she huffed. Picking up another slice, she thoughtfully examined his face. There was more to this request but she was afraid she was going to have to drag it out of him based on his body language. His eyes were shuttered, shoulders hunched in on himself, body twisted slightly to the side as if he had decided this was a mistake and he was on the verge of running out of the room. While she would dearly love to see Liam Jones run away from his problems like a mere mortal, she was clearly already too invested to let that happen. Quickly swiping her fingers across a napkin to rid them of the worst of the grease, she gently laid her hand on his forearm to hold him in place. “Whatever you need to say, it will go no further.”

Apparently those were the magic words to unlock whatever secret he thought he needed to keep because with a sharp intake of breath, he started his tale. “There is a town in Maine...”

—

Hours later, he was dropping her off at the entrance to her building with a promise to pick her up at six o’clock the following evening. She wasn’t crazy about starting out that late or the fact that they would hit the tail end of rush hour traffic but her mind was swimming with too many details to make her normal fuss. Honestly, she would need all the time she could get to go through the files stuffed in the briefcase he passed off to her as she emerged from the car.

Without registering the journey upstairs, she found herself opening the door to her apartment and immediately kicked off her heels with a moan while her toes curled a little to celebrate their freedom. Her dress had climbed up her thighs a bit during the car ride but she had a feeling she was the only one who noticed. She was pretty sure she could have been naked and Liam wouldn’t have paid any attention. He was just that kind of guy. Considering they were about to embark on a trip to his former hometown where they may end up having to give the impression of a relationship, she should probably be grateful that his only attraction to her seemed to be limited to her ability to find people and her reputation for being a spookily accurate human lie detector. For her part, all she wanted from him was a couple weeks of distraction from what was surely going to turn out to be a lonely summer. If she was getting paid for it, all the better.

Leaving her shoes where they fell in the entranceway, she grabbed a hair band from the narrow table that she privately thought of as their crap collector. She had never been the neatest person and she had passed that trait on to Henry so you could never predict what random stuff would be found on the table that served no other purpose than to be a catch all for the things they discarded when they arrived home.

Styling her long blonde hair into a messy bun, she pulled her ruined dress over her head and casually threw it in the direction of the laundry basket. Taking advantage of the fact that there wasn’t a ten-year-old at home that would be traumatized by her behavior, she lugged the briefcase to the kitchen island and spread the files across the countertop before walking back to her closet to slip into a pair of black yoga pants and a Red Sox tank top, not wanting to take the time to shower at the moment. Besides, she was the only one home to know how bad the smell of whiskey and sweat was after sitting for hours in a small office, stuffing her face with the unhealthiest pizza on the planet and getting drawn into the web of mystery that had made the always serious Mr. Jones even more somber.

Pouring a glass of wine, she climbed up on one of stools that formed a line that ran the length of the counter and pulled the top file to her. The photo paper-clipped to the inside showed a rundown pawn shop that might as well have had a neon sign flashing ‘Shady Place of Business.’ Below it was a list of names from various missing persons cases spanning thirty years.

Taking the first sip of wine, she murmured, “What have you gotten me into, Liam?”

She spent the next several hours combing through the files until her back hurt and her contacts felt scratchy in her eyes. It seemed like Jones Investigation had a file for everyone that lived in the town at the time of the burglary as well as newspaper clipping from the various investigations into the suspicious disappearance of citizens.

It was too much information to take in during the course of one night but Liam had been insistent that the files remain in Boston. He didn’t want to risk tipping off any suspects to the real reason for their trip should the paperwork be discovered. So, under direct orders from the former British Naval officer to memorize the facts, when she reached the end of the files, she would start over again. She sorted and resorted the files into stacks based on a variety of factors from chronological order to some distinguishing characteristic like age, proximity to crime, or possible motive.

If her attention kept wondering back to the grainy photo of one Killian Jones, brother of her dour compatriot, she blamed the wine and lack of sleep. Even the low quality of the picture couldn’t conceal that the younger Jones brother was an incredibly attractive man. However, he looked enough like Liam to make her interest unsettling and that was what finally pulled her away from her research and drove her to bed where she dreamed of blue eyes and a wicked smile.

—

For most of the trip, the only sound was of the sports commentators who nearly shouted out a play-by-play of a soccer match Liam had politely asked to listen to as they pulled out of her parking garage. The only other break in their silent commute was the subtle hum and thump of road noise occasionally making its way into the cabin. He had been unimpressed with her offer to take her car, not even bothering to acknowledge her when she suggested it and simply opening the lift gate to the large, dark colored Honda Pilot he had rented. If he noticed her surprise at finding several bags already in the truck and heard her sarcastic observation about packing light as she had to reposition some of his luggage to find a spot for her single gym sized duffel bag, he didn’t show it.

As she had predicted, they spent an hour stuck in traffic before getting beyond the city limits where the cars spread out and their follow drivers seemed to think that allowed them to indulge in NASCAR fantasies. She used the quiet to mentally go over the particulars of the case before them, secure in the knowledge that unless she magically sprouted another head Liam was unlikely to start up a conversation at this point in the trip.

Fact One: Leo and Ava Blanchard left for a date night and never returned home to their young daughter. There car was found broken down on the side of the road about a mile from their home. No sign of foul play, no trace of their whereabouts.

Fact Two: Shortly thereafter, there was a burglary at Gold’s Pawnshop on Main Street. No sign of forced entry and the owner claimed nothing had been stolen, but the alarm had been tripped from the inside. Having nothing to go on and with no stolen items to track down, the local law enforcement devoted a total of five minutes to the case. Basically as soon as the report was filed, the case was closed and life moved on.

Fact Three: Robert Nolan had a few too many at a bar one night, which apparently was a reoccurring circumstance, and never found his way back to his family. He was rumored to be involved in some illicit activities but no proof of a crime was ever found.

Fact Four: There appeared to be a bit of a lull for more than a decade and then a rapid secession of missing person reports: Regina Mills, Peter Wolfe, and finally Milah Gold.

It was the last one that seemed to drive Liam’s interest in the cases. Although he and his brother hadn’t relocated to the US until the early 2000s, it seemed his little brother quickly formed an attachment, which Emma read between the lines to mean had an affair, with the older wife of the town’s local businessman. After his wife vanished into thin air, Mr. Gold and the local police tried their best to pin her disappearance on Killian but could never come up with enough evidence to press charges.

The final piece came through sources Liam was disinclined to name. He had recently found out that a newly arrived visitor had been asking questions around town and according to his source, the visitor was a best-selling true crime author named August Booth who happened to be weeks away from publishing a tell-all book about the sordid history of the town.

Going into full protective mode, Liam had decided the best course of action was to return to the small town and solve the mystery, or potentially multiple mysteries if they were as interconnected as he thought, thereby clearing his brother’s name beyond all doubt.

If it had been anyone else who had asked for her help, she would have been flattered but she knew Liam to be practical above all else. He valued her skills but it was probably Henry’s absence that was the catalyst for this particular partnership. He needed an extra set of eyes and ears and she was a known element who was conveniently available for a long term undercover assignment. Still, he had trusted her with the family secrets, or at least his brother’s secrets, so she was trying to be mindful this wasn’t simply another case for him.

She wasn’t convinced the non-burglary and series of disappearances he seemed to think connected would turn out to be anything but she knew better than to discard possibilities this early on. She also wasn’t convinced that parading in front of his family and friends as a girlfriend was a good game plan.

“I think we need to revisit this cover story,” she said as he pulled off the highway and into the lot of a gas station.

“If you can find a more convincing reason for me to show up with a strange woman, I will gladly listen to it,” he replied before exiting the car and fading away into the dark night.

“No, I wouldn’t like anything from the store, thanks for asking,”she called out to his back, wanting to nettle him in retaliation for his rudeness although she doubted he heard her. According to the GPS, they were only about forty-five minutes from their destination, a place called Granny’s Diner. She tried to research the town, including restaurants, venues, and things to do but it was as if Storybrooke existed out of the modern age. While you could find it on maps, there wasn’t an internet presence at all. There were no tourism sites, despite the fact that most little towns that dot the Atlantic coast were in peak season for welcoming travelers. It appeared that chains and national franchises had no interest in the sleepy town either. There were no notable residents making their marks on the world at large, no complaints on business sites, no reviews of the natural beauty to be found in its forests and parks.

The sound of Liam returning to the vehicle and pumping gas broke her train of thought. Hearing the gentle chime of her phone, she took the opportunity to check her texts before they got back on the road. Smiling a little at seeing Henry’s name on her notifications, she clicked the message and was rewarded with a silly photo of him pretending to be eaten by a shark at one of the selfie stations located on a pier in whatever seaside town they were currently visiting. She text him back a thumb’s up, following it quickly with a good night and reminder that she would send him the details of where she was staying in the morning.

Running her finger gently over her son’s happy grin in the photo, she didn’t greet Liam as he climbed back into the car.

“That’s a nice picture,” he mumbled, clicking his seatbelt in place before pulling out and rejoining the dwindling line of cars heading north. “Is he having a good time?”

“Looks like it,” she answered, turning her head away somewhat embarrassed to feel the prick of tears in her eyes. She wasn’t an emotional person but she missed the kid something fierce.

Either he was being exceptionally sensitive to her distress or he didn’t notice it because they lapsed back into silence until they were about fifteen minutes from the town line. Deciding next to the last minute was as a good a time to broach the topic again as any, she picked up on her earlier comment as if it hadn’t been over half an hour ago. “Listen, I’m not saying I have a better cover but maybe we could not volunteer the girlfriend story. You know, keep our options open unless someone asks us directly. Or maybe actually tell them we are there to investigate.”

Hope for a rational debate on the merits of her suggestions was immediately crushed when he actually started to laugh. “You’ve never lived in a small town, have you?”

“No, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Emma, I left five years ago under some difficult circumstances—“

“What circumstances? How difficult?”

“That’s need to know, lass,” he interrupted in a tone that cautioned against any further questions. “If it had anything to do with our case, I would have already told you. Let me assure you that everyone will know of our arrival within minutes of the car entering town. There will be a description of you circulating before you wake up tomorrow morning. There is no way people aren’t going to ask us directly and repeatedly the nature of our visit and relationship.”

She was about to interrupt again so he held up a hand to stall her and added, “And if we decline to provide details, they will make them up. Trust me, it’s better to control the story than to have eyes following us everywhere trying figure it out for themselves. As far as openly investigating a crime, you’re daft if you think they won’t clam up the second you start asking questions. In my experience people are more comfortable being a gossip than a snitch. If we are simply a couple enjoying a trip down memory lane, we will be able to move much more freely.”

“But your brother,” she countered weakly because she had to admit he had a point. “How can you lie to him? Surely he can be trusted with the truth. Not to mention that if we are staying with him, he’s going to notice that we don’t like each other.”

“What are you talking about? I’m quite fond of you. You’re one of my best friends,” he said in indignation.

Her jaw went slack with shock as she tried to process how she had slipped into some bizarro alternate reality. What in their past could possibly have given him the idea that they were friends, besties even. “I don’t know what—“ she sputtered. “Is this some weird British thing?”

He barked out a laugh that was so unlike him that she doubled down on her alternate reality theory. “Calm down, Emma. It was a joke. We aren’t friends exactly but I don’t dislike you. It will be fine. Pretend I’m one of your fake dates for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, I’m an old-fashioned guy. Killian won’t think anything of us bunking separately.”

“There is old-fashioned and then there is being a monk, Liam. But whatever. I still think you should trust your brother. Especially since it’s his neck we’re trying to save.”

“I would trust him with my life. What I can’t trust is that he won’t go off half-cocked and muck up the investigation. He’ll understand why I did this as long as we get results.”

She believed that he believed what he was saying. She also believed he was wrong. As a person who always preferred the truth, no matter how painful, her gut told her that it would be a mistake to keep the younger Jones in the dark about the true purpose of their trip. However, besties or not, she knew the mulish tilt to Liam’s mouth indicated that for him the discussion was over.

At that moment, the high beams illuminated the Welcome to Storybrooke sign. She felt an ominous dread settle over her as they approached, turning in her seat to look at the sign as they passed.

It was the last thing she saw before the world exploded in glass shards, twisted metal, and smoke.

[ncssian]

i wrote another oneshot to avoid doing my homework these are kind of addictive lmao

---

"and what do you deserve?"

nessian modern au; 1,441 words

mostly fluff but also cassian being defensive of nesta and getting mad at the ic

Nesta had been asleep for so long that Cassian could no longer feel his legs. He refused to shift underneath her, scared of waking her up, and contented himself with running his fingers through her hair instead.

She'd come into the living room of their holiday cabin about an hour earlier and crawled atop him without any words, her only intention that of taking a nap. She was dressed in her lavender flannel nightgown, the one that made her look like a little girl again, claiming she couldn't sleep without him.

Now, as he stared down at her too-perfect face, furrowed even in sleep, the insecurities he kept hidden so well from her rushed to the forefront of his thoughts.

She had always been so beautiful—not just in her looks, which were the first thing most people noticed, but in her heart and mind. Cassian loved those the most. Like a boy studying the inner workings of a clocktower, he loved taking his time to figure out how she thought and dreamed and felt of things. What he discovered was always surprising, each unveiled fact about her a gift. And yet, it could never escape his notice that the only reason he was surprised by Nesta was because he could never know her. Not fully and completely in the way she deserved, at least. He would always be asking more questions, always stumble just a little when it came to navigating her mind.

Cassian felt the overwhelming urge to voice these insecurities aloud.

"Did you know," he started softly, hesitantly, "my biggest fear is that one day you'll find someone who understands you better than me?"

He was met with silence, of course.

"And the worst part is," he continued, "I don't know if I'd be selfless enough to be happy for you if that day ever came. Because even when you clearly deserve more than me, I can't help but hate whoever is out there that could make you happier than I do."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Nesta used Cassian's chest to push herself into a sitting position.

Cassian jerked in surprise, not expecting Nesta to have woken up at his whispers.

"I—" he stuttered. After some moments of struggling, he finally said, "It's the truth."

Nesta's sharp eyes narrowed on Cassian in that way they did whenever he was about to be proven thoroughly wrong. "Did you know when we first got together, my sister and your friends took me aside and less-than-vaguely told me to leave you because I would only weigh you down and ruin your life?" She said it all in one rushed breath like she'd been challenged to a debate.

Cassian nearly sat upright, but Nesta's hands kept him pinned in place. "They did what?" Rage, fiery and directionless, flooded him in a hot rush. That was part-lie; his fury did have a direction. "Why is this the first I'm hearing of this?"

"Because it's an embarrassing thing to share." Nesta wasn't backing down on this. "And at the beginning of our relationship, I didn't exactly want to give you ideas."

Cassian was hurt, hurt and offended that she could believe those words even for a second. He was even more offended that his own family were the perpetrators.

He pretended to be calm for Nesta's sake. "Who exactly said that to you?" He forced an even tone. "I want names."

Nesta shrugged. "Feyre, Rhys, Amren..." she trailed off. "They're not the point. The point is I know they're wrong, even if I don't always feel like it." She shrugged again, but this time an ounce of self-consciousness slipped under her brave demeanor. "So stop pretending like you invented insecurities," her voice quickly turned berating, "because that mini-monologue might have been the dumbest shit I've ever heard."

Beneath his lingering anger, Cassian's chest warmed. Nesta only called him an idiot when she was feeling especially fierce in her affections. Harsh reprimands were her aggressive way of letting people know she cared, and though it was one of the first things he'd ever found out and wholly accepted about her, some people still refused to see the difference between her declarations of love and her declarations of hate.

Some people like his own friends and family.

"Okay," Cassian relented. "Let's assume for a moment that I was wrong, and there's no one out there that could possibly be better for you than me."

"It's not an assumption." Nesta pushed her shoulders back. "You were wrong."

She was so convincing, Cassian nearly believed her. Maybe with time he would.

"That still leaves what you told me. And even if you're okay with it now, I'm not."

"I don't expect you to be," Nesta said. "But I don't want you thinking about other people when this weekend is for us. I didn't drive all the way out to a mountain in the middle of Nowhere, Colorado so you could worry about them."

Nesta's refusal to say their names told him enough about how she felt on the matter. But also, she was right. The last thing Cassian wanted to do was think about anything that wasn't Nesta. Especially not when she was on top of him in that stupid nightgown.

"Alright," he gave in. "What would you rather I worry about, Nesta?" His hands skimmed the hem of the gown that had gotten bunched up around her bare knees.

Her gaze turned predatory, and in the next moment her nightgown fell to the floor.

Cassian didn't think about much after that.

***

Nesta and Cassian were in the middle of cooking dinner later that night when Cassian's phone buzzed. He narrowed his eyes at the name on the screen.

"Let me get this," he said, wiping his hands on a dishtowel and making his way to their bedroom for privacy.

In the dimness of their room, he answered Rhysand's call. "What," he said flatly.

"Hello to you, too," Rhys drawled. "You ever planning on leaving that cabin or should we not expect you home for Christmas?"

Cassian didn't have the patience for bantering with his brother, but he also knew this wasn't the time to tear Rhys a new asshole. That conversation would have to wait until they returned home.

"I'm actually thinking of extending our stay," Cassian said through his clenched jaw. "Nesta mentioned something today about 'weighing me down' and feeling like a burden, and it's really got me concerned."

"...Has it?"

"It has. I mean where would she get such a bullshit idea from, you know? I clearly haven't been spending enough time with her if that's what she thinks of herself." Cassian wondered if he could choke someone with passive-aggressiveness. "So yeah, now I have to spend the whole weekend telling my girlfriend I love her." He sighed as if this was a huge hardship for him. "We'll probably be here for the rest of the week. Might not even make it back for Christmas if I feel like keeping her to myself."

Rhys cleared his throat, and Cassian hoped he felt uncomfortable. "Good for you, man. If that's what you're dead-set on."

"It is."

Rhys didn't have much to say after that, but the slightest bit of Cassian's need for revenge had eased. If his family couldn't like Nesta, the least they could do was know how much he loved her. Cassian hung up without saying goodbye back and tossed his phone onto the bed.

He hadn't been planning on extending his and Nesta's cabin retreat before his conversation with Rhys, but the plans he'd made up on the spot over the phone were looking undeniably appealing. Maybe they would skip Christmas this year, and only share presents with each other in bed.

Cassian returned to the kitchen to find Nesta struggling to wrangle a dangerously sticky, soggy lump of dough. She looked up at him apologetically as he entered. "I tried cooking without you," she said, sounding defeated.

"Even though you knew what would come out of it?" Cassian was already pushing his sleeves up to save her attempt at dough.

"How hard can dough be? I have to get it eventually, right?"

Cassian had to hold down a smile at his girlfriend's cooking skills. "You should wash your hands," was all he said. She was up to her elbows in the weird sticky mixture.

"Right, Cassian?" Nesta repeated, waiting for affirmation.

Cassian couldn't lie, so he settled for a kiss on the forehead and the truth. "You'll never have to worry about cooking as long as you have me, sweetheart."

[alwaysmychoices]

An Accidental Dinner Party

Synopsis: When Charlie accidentally crashes Ethan’s dinner with his dad, can they keep their secret?

Chapter 15 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 5k

Rating: T (Charlie likes to cuss, and I don’t judge her for that)

It was easy to forget.

Crowded into a small hospital room, there was hardly enough room to stand, yet it was a vague thought, tucked in the farthest corner and out of sight. The group of friends could convince themselves that it was another night, but it wasn’t.

It was easy to forget, but it was even easier to remember.

Every second, they were hyperaware of the night’s significance. It was the night before Kyra’s surgery, and even as they laughed, there was an unavoidable twinge of sadness. Every time Kyra lit up with giggles or joked or overtly flirted with Bryce, everyone stopped and took a mental image of the happy memory, saving them for a day they may need them.

A day that may come too soon.

Because, while this was a lovely night shared among friends, there was a hidden threat that it could be the last.

Maybe that’s why they tried so hard to have fun. It wasn’t particularly easy to cram eight people into Kyra’s room, nor was it much of a secret when Jackie shared her flask with the group at the beginning of the night. The jokes, initially, were uncomfortable and awkward, but they were met with appreciative, roaring laughter. Everyone wanted a nice time.

Particularly Charlie.

She sat on Kyra’s side, in one of the few chairs they could smuggle into the room. She found herself looking at Kyra after every enjoyable moment, hoping for proof that Kyra was okay. Kyra was strong, but Charlie worried she expected too much of herself tonight. She had every right to fall apart, and the fact that she didn’t pushed Charlie closer to breaking down herself.  

It was only 8:30, but the energy was dwindling. Kyra had yawned more than once, and Charlie knew that the night was coming to a close. That didn’t mean she wanted to go though.

Jackie was the first to say that she needed to leave, and for a split second, Charlie couldn’t help but hate her.

Elijah sheepishly followed afterwards.

Kyra, looking more exhausted by the minute, accepted their goodbyes, though she forced Jackie to hug her goodbye. Elijah got off with a fist bump.

“I’m embarrassingly exhausted from these drugs anyway,” Kyra joked, which made Bryce roll his eyes.

“You’re barely on any,” Bryce insisted, leaning on the end of her bed, “You’re really just tired because we played basketball at lunch.”

“Lies,” Kyra condemned, laughing just enough to ruin her attempt at a serious expression.

Bryce rolled his eyes, but he took his place at her bedside, giving her a tight hug, “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Are you sure we can’t push it back? I’d rather wake up at noon.”

“Absolutely not,” Bryce confirmed, squeezing her shoulder, “If you want the hottest surgeon, you have to go for the early slot.”

“I’ll only accept that if you admit I’m the hottest patient,” Kyra teased.

“Obviously,” Bryce scoffed, offended she even had to ask

Kyra smiled – so bright, innocent, and happy. Charlie’s chest tightened.

“Now, go home. I refuse to have a tired surgeon tomorrow morning,” Kyra commanded, and Bryce held his hands up in surrender to the order.

As he walked away, he squeezed Charlie’s shoulder, giving her a sympathetic and comforting smile.

He knew that she was suffering because he was, too.

Keiki, who had taken the train from Bryce’s apartment just to wish Kyra luck, took Bryce’s space. Kyra whispered something in Keiki’s ear, which made her roar with laughter, and they shared a hug. It was the only time Charlie had seen Keiki display affection to anyone but Bryce, and it was startling. She even begrudgingly admitted that Kyra was the coolest person in Boston, which Kyra credited to her shaved head.

Sienna and Raf were the last to say their farewells. Raf wished Kyra luck, and they made wistful plans to meet up in Brazil for an epic adventure next summer. Kyra hit on him for old time’s sake, and Raf kissed her forehead. Sienna, the only one who could truly face her grief, cried when she said goodnight. Then, she promised to make cookies and bring them to Kyra as soon as she was out of surgery.

And then it was just Charlie and Kyra.

It was hard to think of the perfect goodbye that night. As much as she tried, Charlie couldn’t sum up their relationship in a poignant yet cheery farewell. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t afraid, but she also wasn’t ready to face that fear yet.

Charlie stared at her friend, hesitating and holding back tears.

“What? You afraid of me now?” Kyra teased, nudging Charlie and feeling victorious when she made her laugh.

“No, I just…” Charlie trailed off, her smile growing weak as she took Kyra’s hands. Clutching them tight, she said, “I’m proud of you, and I’m so happy that I met you. You’re the best friend I never saw coming.”

Kyra wanted to be strong. If this was her last night, she wanted to be a badass.

And though she survived the rounds of goodbyes, she couldn’t survive Charlie’s without a spare tear. She sniffled and failed to hold back her emotion, but just from one look, she could see everything she felt mirrored in Charlie’s expression.

Maybe that’s why Charlie was her best friend. And maybe that’s why Kyra couldn’t do this tonight.

“Stop it!” Kyra tried to sound cheery, squeezing Charlie’s hands back, and she joked, “I can’t possibly die because I still haven’t figured out all your secrets. Until I have those, you’re stuck with me.”

Charlie’s laughter was real, but she was crying as she offered, “I promise to tell you all of them.”

“No,” Kyra stopped her, “You can tell me tomorrow night – when I’m still alive.”

Charlie swallowed Kyra in a hug, and Kyra, though much weaker, matched the intensity.

“I love you, Kyra.”

“I love you, too,” Kyra echoed, burying her face in Charlie’s hair.

It was so hard to pull away that, for a long time, neither of them did.

Eventually, when they parted, Charlie asked, “Do you want me to stay tonight? We can watch crappy romcoms, and I can find the cutest nurses for you to flirt with.”

Kyra cackled at the specifics of Charlie’s offer, particularly the bit about flirting. She considered accepting, but ultimately, she refused. She loved Charlie enough to know that she needed out of this hospital room, and Kyra needed time by herself to find peace. She was the one going into this surgery, and she needed to be ready.

“No, you should go home,” Kyra answered, and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, she added, “Or don’t go home. Go have a wild night in my name.”

Charlie couldn’t imagine herself doing it. She couldn’t imagine doing anything except worrying for her friend, but Kyra asked. So, she accepted the challenge.

“Okay.”

Charlie started to leave, but she hesitated by the door, which made Kyra laugh softly. With wet eyes, Kyra waved goodbye, and Charlie took a deep sigh before taking the next step. She thought it would make it easier, but it was still incredibly difficult to walk away. By the time she reached the end of the hall, she had considered turning around at least five times, but she didn’t want to let Kyra down. So, she kept walking until she was out of the hall and then out of the floor and then out of the hospital.

Her friends were huddled around the door, walking slow on their way home. When Charlie found them, she was relieved to not have to walk home alone. Really, she was happy to not be alone period. She didn’t want to be by herself, not now and not tonight. She would have taken any offer to do anything, even if it meant hours scrubbing bathroom tiles or sharing excruciating small talk.

“So, what’s everyone doing tonight?” Charlie asked, hoping for an escape through one of her friends.

“Keiki and I are ordering pizza and getting an early night,” Bryce announced, which made Keiki roll her eyes, but she didn’t object. In fact, Charlie could see her create a pizza order on her phone as they walked.

“I’m heading home, too. I still have a lot of packing to do,” Raf added.

Raf shrugged apologetically in Charlie’s direction, but she wasn’t surprised. Even if Raf had been free, she wasn’t sure he wanted her around anyway.

“I’m babysitting tonight, so if we could just pick up the pace a bit, that would be great,” Jackie grumbled, texting furiously. She was already at the head of the group, but if it was possible, she started to walk even faster.

“I’m going back to the hospital. I have a few cases I need to check on tonight,” Aurora frowned, giving Charlie an remorseful look.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Charlie shrugged, and looking to her last hope, she asked, “Sienna, Elijah, what are you doing?”

“I’m ordering takeout and doing some research tonight. I’ll be swamped tomorrow, so I want to get a jump on the day,” Elijah answered.

“You’re getting takeout? Where from? I’ll jump on that,” Sienna decided, and Elijah handed her his phone to show her the takeout menu. After scrolling for a minute, she realized that she hadn’t answered Charlie’s question, “Oh, I’m heading home, too. I hardly slept last night, so as soon as I finish dinner, I’ll probably go to bed.”

Oh.

Charlie nodded understandingly with a hollow smile. Her disappointment manifested in an emptiness in her core, and again, a wave of sadness threatened to swallow her. She needed someone to distract her, someone comforting and understanding. But her friends couldn’t fill the void.

Maybe she was supposed to fill it herself.

As they kept walking to the train station, Charlie fell out of the conversation. At every block, she looked for a new escape, a new place to hide from the truth.

When they reached the station, everyone fished out their subway card except for Charlie.

Instead, she told them that she planned on staying out for a few more hours and would see them later.

Of course, they doubted her plan. They weren’t sure that she should be out or left alone, and they felt a bit guilty for not having room to pull her along with them. She assured them that she was fine and gave her most convincing smile. They had to take her word for it, and though they felt bad leaving her behind, they left.

Charlie walked on for a few more blocks in the direction of Donahue’s. The bar was never empty, and surely, she could find a pack of doctors or residents to join. It didn’t matter who they were as long as she wouldn’t be alone.

Though, as she thought about it, it sounded lonely…

Something along the way reminded her of him, and she knew there was one person she wanted to be with tonight. Before she could change her mind, she hailed a cab and gave Ethan’s address.

She arrived at Ethan’s apartment at the same time as a delivery man, so she followed him inside without having to buzz in. She was a familiar face in the building by now, so even the nosiest neighbor didn’t give her a second glance. She took the elevator to this floor, and as if by muscle memory, she walked to his front door.

She knocked twice, and almost immediately, she heard his voice on the other side, saying he was coming. And his voice – his lovely, relaxed voice – eased the tension in her chest. Her Ethan… He was exactly what she needed, and she held her breath for the fifteen seconds it took him to get to his front door.

And when Ethan opened the door…

He was… not happy?

He was surprised.

His eyes were wide, so wide they seemed horrified. He didn’t move towards her and envelop her in a hug like she hoped, nor did he kiss her hello like he usually did outside of work. He just stared.

It wasn’t the reaction she expected.

“What are you doing here?” Ethan asked, stepping out into the hall. He pulled the door with him, nearly closing it behind him. She couldn’t see in the apartment now, and if someone else was inside, they couldn’t see her either. Ethan’s voice seemed panicked as he added, “You said you were busy tonight.”

Charlie didn’t know how to react. It was so strange – so out of character – that she was immediately apprehensive.

“My night ended early,” Charlie explained, eyes on the door behind him like it might have a clue, and he pulled the door a little closer to him.

What is he doing?

Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard movement on the other side of Ethan’s door. Someone was in there. Someone Ethan didn’t want Charlie to see.

Charlie’s gaze turned steely and accusatory as she glared in Ethan’s direction. Who was there? Why was this a secret? Why was Ethan so panicked?

Was he seeing someone else?

Would he do that to her? How could he?

That asshole.

When Ethan heard the person inside, he warned her, “You should leave.”

Charlie was seething. Who the hell did he think he was telling her to leave? Was she the inferior fling? He didn’t get to tell her to go. She deserved to know what the fuck was going on.

“Excuse me?” Charlie demanded, arms crossed. She could feel her heartbeat taking over her body. Everything was painted red and angry and enraged. She felt like she could have torn this apartment building down brick by brick.

Ethan saw the change, but he didn’t have time to set out the fire.

“Ethan, who’s there?”

Charlie’s eyes widened in understanding, but it was too late.

All of the anger settled into shock and panic.

“Your dad is here?” Charlie whispered, practically a hiss.

“You said you were busy tonight!” Ethan whispered back.

“We’ve been standing here this whole time, and you couldn’t just say that?” she quietly accused.

“What did you think was going on?”

“You’re hiding your door. What do you think I thought?!” Charlie looked at him like he was stupid, and as it dawned at him, he realized he was.

“You thought I was with someone else?” Ethan knew they were running out of time. They needed to figure out what to do and what to say if they were caught, but he was so shocked that she could think that of him that he couldn’t ask anything else.

“Wait, why are you angry?” it was getting harder to maintain the whisper as she reminded him, “You’re the one blocking the door and evading questions. You look like the poster child for being caught cheating.”

“Charlotte!” Ethan was prepared to continue this fight until he felt vindicated, but they were out of time.

“Ethan?” his dad’s voice was getting nearer, and they could hear his steps coming towards the front door.

Shit.

Charlie looked around the hallway frantically, looking for somewhere to quickly hide. But she couldn’t decide fast enough. She couldn’t even take a step towards the elevator before Alan was at the door, opening it to the sight of two shocked, guilty-looking adults staring back at him.

Alan chuckled good humoredly but was obviously confused.

Ethan and Charlie said nothing, not because they didn’t want to but because they couldn’t think of anything to say.

After a moment, Alan recognized Charlie, and he smiled warmly, “Charlotte, right? From the hospital?”

“Yes, that’s me,” Charlie smiled politely, but beneath it, she couldn’t formulate a coherent thought for panic, “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Ramsey.”

“Oh, call me Alan,” he insisted, “What brings you here tonight?”

An excuse.

She should have been thinking of an excuse this whole time.

Charlie hesitated, and Ethan watched with pity as she tried to formulate a believable excuse. She picked the first one she conjured just because she’d already taken too long.

“I’m here for work.”

Fuck. That’s a terrible excuse.

“We have a really tricky patient, and because I have a free night, I was hoping to borrow a few books to study tonight. You know, just get a jump on the morning,” Charlie elaborated. She hoped it would save her excuse, but it was still weak.

Ethan gave her a pointed look, but she didn’t look back. If he wanted to judge her response, he should have said something.

“I didn’t realize you were busy, though, so I can just pick those study materials up tomorrow morning at work. Sorry to disturb you two,” Charlie excused herself, and she started walking away.

“Oh, but Charlie, you’re already here! Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

Charlie’s blood ran cold.

“I couldn’t impose-“

“Nonsense, it wouldn’t be an imposition. We’ve got more than enough food, and you’d be giving two boring men some company,’ Alan insisted.

“But I know you live so far away and don’t get to spend much time with each other,” Charlie tried, but Alan just shook his head.

“Ethan, you can’t possibly let her leave. Invite her in.”

Ethan really didn’t want to.

This was their last chance to think of an excuse, but nothing was strong enough. So, reluctantly, Ethan offered, “Charlie, would you like to join us for dinner?”

She couldn’t exactly say no, so resigning to her fate, she accepted.

Alan ushered Charlie inside, and she followed awkwardly. Jenner, who had been casually lounging on the couch through all the awkwardness, jumped up when he saw Charlie enter. He sprinted to her, and she instinctively scratched behind his ears to greet him.

“Jenner seems to really like you,” Alan commented, and Charlie realized the implication.

How would Jenner know her well if they were platonic?

Normal coworkers didn’t spend the night in the other’s apartment and play with their dog.

Jenner’s friendliness betrayed her familiarity with the apartment and therefore Ethan.

“Charlie has watched Jenner a few times,” Ethan explained, “When the dog walker is busy.”

Charlie nodded to confirm the story, relieved Ethan saved her from explaining it away.

Ethan hesitated to leave Charlie and his father alone, but he was needed in the kitchen. As he put the finishing touches on the salad and garlic butter chicken, he watched the two from the corner of his eye, waiting to jump in and save Charlie if necessary.

Charlie hoped that Alan wouldn’t be talkative because she didn’t trust herself to not inadvertently reveal their relationship, but of course, Alan was friendly and curious.

“So, what have you been doing tonight, Charlie?”

“I was with a few friends,” Charlie answered, fiddling with he necklace, “My friend, Kyra, has a big surgery tomorrow, so we wanted to support her. I stayed until she kicked me out.”

Alan’s gaze was soft and full of sympathy as he said, “I’m sorry for you and your friend. You must have been looking for someone to comfort you.”

Charlie was startled by Alan’s insight.

That was exactly what she was doing.

And the implication that she came to Ethan for that reason was clear. She wondered if he knew. Had he not bought their excuse? Or had he figured it out some time before?

“I’m just trying to keep busy,” Charlie brushed him off, looking in Ethan’s direction for him to rescue her.

Luckily, Charlie’s panic coincided with the timer on the chicken, and Alan was sufficiently distracted helping Ethan finish dinner. Charlie helped set the table under Ethan’s direction and was relieved for the silence during the process. The three of them settled at Ethan’s dining table with Ethan at the head of the table and Charlie and Alan facing each other.

Of course, the food was delicious, and that consumed much of the initial chatter.

Then Ethan deftly steered the conversation back to his hometown of Providence and how everyone was doing. Alan shared a humorous story about their neighbor’s scandalous affair with the mail man, and though most of the details went over Charlie’s head, she laughed with them.

Alan looked happy that Charlie was amused, and once the story was over, he asked, “Do you go home much, Charlie?”

“Not much,” Charlie shook her head.

“Bad memories?”

“Not particularly,” she shrugged, “It’s a long trip, so it’s mainly just holidays.”

“Must get lonely.”

“I’ve built a little family here, so as long as my friends will have me, I’m happy,” Charlie explained, and to her surprise, this made Alan happy.

“You should hold on to that. You’re very lucky,” Alan encouraged her, “I wish I’d held on closer to the family I made when I was young.” He paused, and after some deliberation, he asked, “So, who’s in this family? Boyfriend? Roommates? In my twenties, I practically considered my butcher a brother.”

Charlie didn’t miss the question about her relationship status, nor did Ethan. She wondered if Alan expected her to include Ethan in her list. She decided not to, though he certainly deserved a spot.

“Just some roommates and a few friends. Plus, a chinchilla.”

“You have a chinchilla?” Ethan asked incredulously.

“Sienna takes care of her, but yes,” Charlie confirmed. Ethan continued to stare at her, trying to decide if he disapproved or was surprised that she had never mentioned it before. Of course, it might be both.

“How long have you had it?”

“Maybe a year.”

Ethan’s eyes widened in horror, as if having a chinchilla was made worse by having it for a long time.

Alan watched them and smiled.

Dinner was easier after that. Alan told an embarrassing story about Ethan and his favorite stuffed bear, and Charlie enjoyed every second. He asked Charlie questions about her life – where she was from, why she was in Boston, and of course, how much of an asshole Ethan was at work. She answered truthfully but danced around any attachment.

If someone had looked in, it would have seemed like a happy, wonderful night where a young couple met the parents. And honestly, it kind of felt like that, even if it was a secret.

They talked for a long time. It must have been at least an hour before Ethan got up to do the dishes, and Alan and Charlie stayed at the table, drinking wine and laughing about Ethan being called to the principal’s office for telling a teacher he didn’t know what he was talking about. Ethan excused himself from the embarrassment by taking Jenner for his nightly walk, leaving Charlie and Alan alone.

“You know, you two did a good job,” Alan commended Charlie.

Still laughing from the last story, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“If I didn’t know my son so well, I might have believed you two weren’t together.”

Charlie stilled, playing his words over and over again in her mind. She must have misheard.

“Except for the times where you look at him like he’s the only thing you ever want to look at, which you do occasionally, but I had already figured it out by then.”

Charlie’s jaw dropped, and she felt silent.

Shit.

“It’s alright, Charlotte. You don’t need to keep the secret.”

Charlie was startled but relieved. The burden lifted, she let out a sigh and shrugged, “How did you know?”

“It was pretty clear when I heard that he looked like the poster child for cheating,” Alan chuckled as he recalled the whispered conversation he overheard. She grimaced but laughed with him, amused at their own mistake.

So many awkward conversations could have been avoided if they were discovered that quickly.

“I’ve always liked you. From the first time Ethan mentioned you. He never admitted to liking you, but he spoke too highly and too often of you for you to be purely professional.”

Charlie didn’t want to look excited by this information, but she was. She didn’t know he talked about her.

“I think you’re good for him, and though I don’t know you well, he seems good for you,” Alan was happy for his son, and Charlie appreciated his approval.

Had he known all of the hurt they’d inflicted on each other in the past year, he may not have been as supportive. But Charlie liked to think that they had a second chance, that all of those mistakes didn’t ruin them. And if Alan encouraged their relationship, maybe she was right.

“Just…” Alan hesitated, still weighing whether or not his interference was warranted, “Don’t let him stay like this. I know my son, and I’ve seen him ruin good things out of fear. When he’s scared of change or commitment, he remains stagnant. Or worse, he leaves. He doesn’t want to endanger himself or his heart, and I can’t blame him. But… I don’t want him to ruin this. You seem like too good of a thing to lose that way. You both deserve to be happy.”

Charlie didn’t know what to say or how to react. There was an unmistakable heaviness that followed his speech, like a looming thundercloud on their happily ever after.

And it was scary – because she knew he could be right.

She knew Ethan, and she had seen him pull away and keep his distance. He had broken all of his rules to ask her out, but did that override all his patterns?

She didn’t want to be afraid. She wanted to trust Ethan just like she did the night she ran through the rain to give him a chance, but just like that night, she had lingering anxieties.

Maybe this was a premonition. Maybe it amounted to nothing.

The silence dragged on until the front door opened and Ethan returned. Jenner came bounding to Charlie, who was relieved for the distraction. Alan offered Charlie a last, encouraging smile before announcing that he was going to bed.

Ethan, suspicious of his sudden departure, encouraged him to stay and share a glass of whiskey, but Alan insisted.

“Goodnight, you two,” he waved them goodbye, with a glimmer in his eye that only Charlie recognized, “Charlie, thank you for staying for dinner. It was great getting to know you.”

“You, too, Alan,” Charlie returned the compliment, much to his delight.

He bid his son farewell and retreated to the guest room.

Once the door closed behind him, Ethan shot her a questioning look, “Did something happen?”

“Before or after he told me he’d figured out we were together?” Charlie poured herself another glass of wine, and Ethan fell into the chair beside her.

“You’re kidding?”

She shook her head and poured a little more wine in his glass, which he accepted readily, “He did say we’re cute together though.”

“Well, at least we’re ‘cute together,’” Ethan mumbled, taking a long sip of his wine. Charlie stretched her legs across his lap, and he rested his hand on her calf without thinking about her sudden movement closer to him, “Do you think other people know?”

“My intern also knows.”

“You told her?”

“No,” Charlie denied insistently, “She said that she noticed we suddenly get along and that you’re nicer to me than all the other residents.”

“That has nothing to do with us being together.”

“She also caught me staring at you,” Charlie admitted quietly.

“You were staring at me?” Ethan raised his eyebrows with intrigue, and Charlie rolled his eyes.

“An intern was flirting with you. I was just keeping an eye on it,” Charlie contended, but he squeezed her leg anyway.

After a moment, he noted, “It’s been a month, you know.”

A month.

That felt like an accomplishment. Their first relationship didn’t even last a weekend, yet they’d made this work for a whole month. Charlie was embarrassed by how happy that made her.

“You kept count?”

“Hard to forget someone dripping wet and buzzing your door like a fiend at midnight,” Ethan played it off, but he was smiling.

“Are you glad you invited me up?”

“A little less glad now that I know you have a chinchilla at home,” he grumbled, stroking her calf comfortingly, and after a beat, he clarified, “But yes. I am glad.”

Charlie beamed, and right then, she forgot Alan’s warning.

Because she couldn’t imagine this wonderful man ever hurting her.

“Since my dad already knows, do you want to stay the night?” Ethan offered, hoping she would say yes.

He always wanted her to stay. Sleeping without her felt restless and disappointing. He liked hearing her breathe and just knowing she was beside him. He also enjoyed that sleepy smile she gave him when he woke up for his run and she begged him to come back to bed, which he usually did.

“I don’t know. I had your dad tell me he figured out I was dating his son. I don’t know if I can handle him hearing me moan tonight,” she shook off the awful thought, and Ethan, though also disgusted by the idea, laughed.

“I think I can handle one night not making you moan, Charlie.”

She raised a questioning eyebrow.

“And if not, the shower should bury any sound.”

Charlie poked his side with her foot at his lewd suggestion, and despite their many shared nights, she blushed.

“I’m glad you came here tonight, especially because of Kyra. I know how close you are, and if you need me, I’m here,” Ethan offered sympathetically.

“Thank you, Ethan,” Charlie smiled softly.

“Though,” Ethan began, “I wish you called…”

“How was I supposed to know you were having dinner with your dad?”

“You didn’t have to accuse me of cheating,” Ethan sorely countered.

“Are you still on this?” Charlie complained, trying not to laugh.

“You thought I was hiding someone in my apartment!” Ethan hadn’t given up on the argument.

“You were!” Charlie reminded him.

He shook his head, and deciding to let him win this, Charlie said, “I apologize for accusing you of cheating – “

“Thank you.”

“And I will try not to jump to conclusions again.”

Ethan was satisfied by her apology, and when he leaned in to kiss her, Charlie saw that four letter word flash in her mind.

The one she hadn’t really thought of since the night she left him.

Love.

I probably should have made this 2 chapters, but I didn’t want to disturb the ~flow~

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[hellflame-for-a-reason]

Ingenium Fracta

Chapter three: Fear and pain

Tw: funerals, doctors, suffocation, nightmares.

"Dear friends and family, we are gathered here to celebrate the life of Iida Tenya; honoured friend, beloved son and brother. He was a good young man, taken from us too soon. Tenya was a model student and a perfect future hero, who was taken from us by an event none could see happen. It's safe to say that he's in a better place now, he's-"

There had been a funeral, the entire class had shown up. No one really spoke, it was nice catching up with Tensei he supposed, but the fact that it was at a funeral for the poor man's brother really put a damper on things. Aizawa had never felt more guilty for anything in his life, he couldn't believe he'd let a student die like that, how could he be a teacher now?

They never even found the body, Aizawa figured it was because Iida had been fighting Shigaraki at the time. That poor boy, Aizawa couldn't imagine what his family was going through. Class 1-A had completely refused to vote in a new class president, seeming offended at the very idea. Aizawa couldn't blame them at all and he managed to get Nezu to agree that the class would be fine with only a vice president. It was going to be a bit difficult for poor Momo but she was adamant she could manage, replacing Iida would be an insult.

Recently, Aizawa had found himself having regular nightmares about losing more students. It was one of those nights where Hizashi found him, he didn't know where Hizashi had been but he didn't really care. All that mattered to Aizawa was that his loving husband was now holding him gently, "Sho? What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?" He nodded in response and was suddenly lifted up and placed onto Hizashi's lap, a hand combing through his hair, "it's ok babe, it wasn't real, it's just a nightmare."

"I dreamt I lost more students…"

"Oh Shouta…" Hizashi kissed the top of his head, "it isn't your fault, it never was. You couldn't have known the villains would be there, no one could."

"But…" he was crying now, "I'm supposed to be their teacher, Hizashi, I'm supposed to be a hero!"

"You are a hero! You're EraserHead! Those kids adore you Sho! And they don't hold a single thing against you, please don't hold it against yourself." He was brushing Aizawa's hair now, making sure to be careful of all the knots and tangles. Aizawa had no idea where he found such a perfect husband, he certainly didn't deserve someone so loving. "You did everything you could, but you had to watch the whole class, it's understandable that one slipped through the cracks."

It was silent for a bit after that, Aizawa just sat there trying to process Hizashi's words as the husband in question continued to brush his hair- he was braiding it now. It was very bad when Aizawa couldn't sleep, he usually slept through everything, his thoughts had to be incredibly bad if they were keeping him awake. The guilt that followed losing a student was more than enough though, not only that but it had been the class president, it had been Tenya Iida, Aizawa used to be in the same class as Tensei; the guy was the sweetest, most caring hero they had in their class. It really showed when he saw how Tenya behaved with class 1-A, everything he did reminded Aizawa of Tensei, but now seeing Tensei's face at the funeral, Aizawa had only seen Tenya. What a horrific way for the tables to turn.

The Iida's were a proud family, with a long and incredible lineage; they'd been doing good for people before quirks even evolved. Aizawa had always known them to be a little stuck up in their attitudes, Tensei being the clear outlier- the more he'd seen of Tenya, the more he realised both the Iida brothers were outliers. The funeral had been the first time he'd ever seen any of the Iida's cry- well except from Tenya, who had cried when the hero killer had hurt Tensei and was now unable to cry at all, or even feel emotions. Aizawa couldn't blame Iida's parents for crying; their baby had just died after all. They'd had one hell of a year, first Tensei's legs and now their youngest son.

A child had died. That was the hardest part for Aizawa to cope with; the fact that a child, barely 16, had died due to his failings as both a teacher and a hero. The civilians that had been on the same floor had praised Iida, commenting that they had felt safe around the next Ingenium. They told everyone about how cool and composed he had been when instructing them to evacuate and then one even mentioned him running in to disarm the villain. Aizawa honestly couldn't have been prouder of the kid, Iida had been the perfect picture of a model hero. That's what it was all about, saving and protecting the public. That was why Aizawa was a failure; he couldn't even save one child.

Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do now. It was too late to save him. So all Aizawa and everyone else could hope to do was move on and grow from it, he had argued with Nezu for the fourth time about getting his class a specialist councillor and he'd finally agreed to it, saying he'd look for one. His kids really needed it, Aizawa could well imagine how the death of a classmate felt to them, and it wasn't any classmate either; it was their beloved class president. When the news was broken to them, Aizawa had even seen Mineta and Bakugou shedding tears, and neither of them were even friends with Iida.

It was safe to say that everyone would miss the boy greatly, Aizawa didn't even like calling him a boy; Tenya Iida had proven himself more of a man then Aizawa was. The hero course favoured the flashy and the violent, but true heroes like Iida were really overlooked. Aizawa would make sure to praise the model students he had in the future, he shouldn't waste so.much time with the problem children. There should be a balance; heroes are supposed to be the protectors, but who protects the heroes? Aizawa would've liked to say it was him, but clearly he was lacking in that department.

-

Black smoke, filling his lungs, stealing his air. He was choking, he was on the floor. He'd been asked to revv his engines, to show what they could do, now he was choking on his own exhaust fumes. He was on the floor, when did he fall to the floor? There was yelling all around him and he wasn't sure what was going on in the slightest. He felt his consciousness slipping away from him as he gasped for air, his eyes were shut tight but he could feel the tears running down his face. He finally lost consciousness as he heard one of the men yelling, "get both! Just in case!"

When he came to, he was laying in a bed. Judging by the room it was probably Toga's bed, the mattress was so soft and the aching feeling in his legs didn't feel so bad when he lay there. He was surrounded by Toga, the burnt man and three men Tenya hadn't met yet. One man was wearing a full body suit, in blacks and greys, the second man was clearly just a mechanic, the third being a doctor, both the two regular men were clearly being held at gunpoint. Tenya had the vague idea that this was illegal, but he was too tired to think much of it.

"Are you alright kid?" The burnt man asked, putting a hand on the bed frame, "apparently part of your engine got disconnected and we had to get a doctor and a mechanic to fix it for you."

"Oh," Tenya paused, he hadn't considered the fact that bring trapped under rubble would affect his engines, although to be fair, he didn't really understand how his engines worked- or at least he'd forgotten, "well they do kind of ache…"

The doctor nodded, "that'd be the stitches, they'll ache for a little while but they should degrade on their own… can I go home now?" The mechanic looked just as desperate to leave as the doctor, and both men were led downstairs by the man in the catsuit.

Toga sat on the bed next to him, "normally I like seeing boys all injured like that, but that was really scary- there wasn't even any blood!" She frowned at him, "are you sure you're alright? I don't want my new friend dying on me!"

"I'm fine, don't worry. I'm from very hardy stock."

The burnt man raised an eyebrow at that, "do you remember what stock? Recall any family members?"

"Hmm…" unfortunately Tenya still couldn't remember anything about his family outside of his last name, "still no, my apologies."

"Don't apologize kid, they abandoned you too didn't they? Didn't even care that their kid 'died', only about those poor, defenseless heroes."

"Yeah!" Toga added, frowning, "those meanie heros left you to die! You shouldn't care about them!"

Tenya nodded, that made sense to him. The thought of people calling themselves heroes leaving someone to die in a wreckage made his blood boil- he hoped that didn't translate to his engine, he didn't want to put any strain on it at the moment. Instead he just watched them leave the room, and he settled down for a nap; he may as well use Toga's bed whilst he had it.

Dispite Kurogiri's concern, Tenya had ended up moving into Toga's room anyway; they were the only ones close enough in age and since Tenya was gay and Toga already had a crush, the adults figured it would be fine. Tenya had been happy to help the burnt man, who Tenya later found out was named Dabi, set up his bed. Kurogiri even bought him an Ingenium poster, which Tenya found off because he could have sworn that *he* was Ingenium… but nevertheless, Tenya found it very nice of him, he hadn't been expecting that. The man known as Twice somehow managed to get him a new pair of glasses as his last pair had been broken, he'd also bought Tenya some bedsheets and pillow covers, as well as many books to help Tenya keep up with his studies.

In fact, Tenya was studying when Toga looked over at his book, "whatcha doin'?"

"I'm reading about algebra, see?" He showed her the notebook he was trying the questions in, "it's like maths but there's letters! It's rather fun!"

"Why would there be letters in maths? That doesn't make any sense!"

He chuckled at that, shuffling to the side so she could get on the bed with him, "oh it's easy when you think about it, come on; I'll show you." He put his bookmark in the book and flipped back a few chapters, understanding that Toga would probably need something a little easier.

"Let's try something simple, okay?" He smiled at her, beginning to write the question down when she nodded. "So let's say that A means one, and B means two, what would A plus B make?" He wrote the question down as he said it, making sure it was clear.

She nodded slowly, taking the pen from Tenya as she slowly wrote down the answer, at least she understood basic maths- although her handwriting was terrible. "Is it three? Or do I have to write down another number?"

"Well technically you're right, unfortunately the rules of algebra dictate that the answer would be AB."

Toga proceeded to look at Tenya like he was a moron, "so it's not even numbers? Why is it still maths?"

He sighed, unsure of how to explain it to her, "well you've got to figure out how to shorten the question I suppose, it doesn't entirely make sense- but that's what makes it so fun!" He smiled, knowing there was no point in explain it to her, she hadn't finished middle school so there wasn't much of a chance of her grasping algebra.

"You're so weird Ten-chan! Stick to liking murder like the rest of us!" She giggled, they both knew there was no malice behind that, her genuine smile showed that. Toga got off of the bed and went back to her own, toying with her knife. "Do you want to talk about Izuku?"

"Who?" Tenya didn't think he'd ever heard that name before, but he had a funny feeling of deja vu from it.

"Huh?" Toga was once again looking at Tenya like he was stupid, "you know? Green hair, freckles? Sometimes goes by Deku? Izuku Midoriya?"

A gasp, "Midoriya?" Tenya knew Midoriya, he loved Midoriya! Midoriya was his best friend, was Izuku his first name? Tenya felt a little guilty that he didn't know his best friend's full name, or even how he looked. To be fair though, he did have memory issues, so he couldn't be blamed really.

"Yeah! That's Izuku's last name! You wanna talk about him?"

"Of course I want to talk about Midoriya! He's my best friend!"

Toga giggled, taking out her phone and beginning to show him the photos she'd taken. They were photos of Midoriya, Tenya instantly recognized him, despite not remembering his face. The fear on his face in every photo was particularly familiar, and Tenya found himself having flashes of an image in his head, of nothing but pure worry and stress on Midoriya's face. Toga snapped him back to reality, beaming happily, "isn't he cute??"

Tenya had to nod at that, "his hair is very fluffy, and I like his freckles." He did agree with Toga, Midoriya was a lot more adorable than Tenya had expected. This was his best friend? Oh Tenya must be the best at making friends then, to befriend someone so pretty.

"I know, right? I like him best when he's covered in blood!"

"Why?"

A moment of silence and Toga paused, "I don't know, just think he's attractive," she shrugged, clearly not having a real answer. Tenya didn't really mind, he was just curious, he didn't actually care either way.

[themonkeycabal]

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, ep 3

Good morning!

Spoilers! of course

Previously on:

The new Captain America is a massive tool, but his buddy, "Battlestar" (lol), is a little bit adorable. They work for something called the Global Repatriation Council, which sounds like a bureaucratic delight and joy.

Bucky got arrested for skipping his therapy appointment to go to Germany (nothing good ever happens to you in Germany, Bucky. Stop going to Germany.) on a mission with Sam (the mission went badly). And once he's sprung from the clink, he and Sam are suckered into the most awkward team therapy session in many an age. Things Are Said and everybody ends up mostly feeling pretty bad about everything.

Speaking of feeling pretty bad about everything — we discover there was a black super soldier in the US Army during the Korean war who was repaid for his service by being imprisoned and made a lab rat for thirty years. Just as awful as it sounds.  

Also our pseudo-terrorists from the first episode turn out to be a pack of idealistic kids who grew up in a blipped world and whose goals are probably as murky to them as they are to me. They, however, have pissed off somebody much bigger and badder (probably by stealing super soldier serum). 

To find just what in the sam hill was going on with the super soldier serum being out in the wild, Bucky suggested they go talk to that very stable and rational repository of Hydra knowledge, Zemo. I'm sure this will go swimmingly.

I've got my chips and guac and beer, it's 12:30 a.m., and I'm ready for some good ol' fashioned fisticuffs! Bring it, Marvel,

And we open with a sunny, smiley propaganda ad for the Global Repatriation Council. Helping you get back to the way things used to be. Reset. Restore. Rebuild. Cut to a shady black police van with the GRC logo and militarized police hop out along with Captain Massive Tool and the shield that really shouldn't be his. They seem nice.

"Don't give them a second to delete, shred, or breathe," says Captain Biggest Bestest Hero Ever as they prepare to breach a graffiti covered building. Ah, it's the hideout in Munich where Karli and the flag stompers gang were bunked last episode. The owner refuses to give up any info, calls them brutes, spits in Captain Tool's face, and Captain Biggest Bestest Hero Ever roughs him up and yells "Do you know who I am?" The owner replies for us all, "yes, I do, and I don't care."

Captain Tool leaves and grumbles about not having intel on that super dangerous criminal 12-year old, Karli. Battlestar (lol) points out she's giving shelter and meds to displaced people, and so they're loyal. And I'm just going to let that go at this point, because last ep she was on about how the GRC only cared about helping the returning people and not the people who were there all along, and the Flag Smashers wanted to return the world to how it was during the blip. But now suddenly they're all about helping the displaced, who I thought were the ones who were gone, thus, you know, being displaced when they come back to a world that's moved on without them. And I'm letting it go …. now.

Or not. I mean, I guess we could say that they're helping the displaced the GRC doesn't want to help, because they're not politically useful or the GRC is funneling its massive resources somewhere else. Or … something. Like I said, it's all very murky at the moment. I could keep watching and probably discover the answer. And I'm sure the GRC is corrupt as hell, so you go Karli! Though, she's like 16 (okay, maybe early 20s), and I'm not sure how she's managed this level of pull and resources in the few months since the great Un-Blippening and also she's got like a team of 8 (or 7, one died last ep) and she's not exactly oozing charisma. But, never mind. Moving on. For real this time.

That's all my way of saying that 3:48 into this episode and I'm already super done with Captain Massive Tool.

In Berlin, Bucky and Sam are visiting Zemo in prison. How'd they get permission? The guard seems very chill about them being there, he even leaves so Bucky and Sam can go to Zemo's cell alone. Which is so very weird. Are they hoping somebody will shank the weirdo who sits in his cell listening to opera and playing chess all day? "Oh no, he's dead, how sad. Heinrich! Get the mop!"

Anyway, Bucky says he'll go in alone, because Sam's an Avenger and Zemo doesn't really have warm fuzzy feelings for Avengers. Sam, who is currently in possession of the duo's one (1) brain cell, remembers how Zemo literally stalked Bucky and tried to frame him for a bombing and mass murder. "He was obsessed with Hydra. We have a history together," is Bucky's very questionable counter-argument. Well, I mean, technically yes, I guess.

Seriously, they just let him walk right in. Wow.

Zemo steps out of the improbably dark recesses of his cell and immediately starts reciting the Winter Soldier control words. "I just wanted to see how the new you reacts to the old words." By staring. It's his thing.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry. It was never personal." I don't know why, but this made me laugh. His delivery is great. It's just like "hey man, good to see you again, hope you got past that whole framing you for murder and the global manhunt thing. Sorry and all. I just really hated your BFF for that time he dropped a city on my family. Bygones, amiright?"

Bucky skips the chat. "Somebody recreated the super soldier serum. I need to find out who." Ah, Zemo is super interested. But, of course. He killed all the other Soldiers, he wouldn't be keen on others around, would he?

Zemo knows where to begin looking for the answer. Cut to Sam and Bucky walking around in a dark room full of some sort of vague equipment (ah, it's a garage), Sam regretting every life decision he's ever made that led him to this point "what are you talking about you want to break Zemo out of jail? Where the hell are we? Buck, have you lost your mind?" Stupidity, who knows, and yes.

"Zemo's going to mess with our minds. Especially yours. No offense." "Offense." lol idiots.

Bucky finds the lights. They argue some more about Zemo. "Super soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code." Sam's like, yeah, I saw his code, it was blow shit up and kill a lot of people. Sam cannot believe he is hearing this crap right now and he's got to be like "steve rogers, if you weren't 106 I would beat your ass for leaving me with this moron".

"Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?" Sam, feeling those cold, tingly chills, the slowly creeping horror of realization, "What did you do?" "I didn't do anything," Bucky lies like the terrible liar he is. Wow he's a bad liar.

Cut back to Zemo's prison cell. Zemo ticks another off the "creepy euro villain" checklist, when Bucky randomly asks what he's reading and Zemo says Machiavelli. But of course. He's hiding something in his book. A key card.

Meanwhile, in the garage Bucky is explaining things to Sam. "The weakest point of any system isn't the software, or the hardware, it's the meatware." lol elegantly put, Bucky. "The human element."

Anyway, to sum up, Bucky's already broken Zemo out of prison. Poor Sam, the look on his face as Bucky hypotheticals through all the steps of the breakout, I laughed so hard.

Sam: “i hate everything, especially this asshole”

"And where are we?" Sam asks, very fed up with Things. 

The door opens and here comes Zemo in his purloined guard's uniform.

"You're going back to prison!" "We need him, Sam." Zemo, politely, "If I may—" "NO!" "NO!"

Argue argue argue. Bucky makes a weird pitch about how Steve didn't sign the Sokovia Accords and neither did Sam and, they went all illegal and on the run, they did it for him and so he's asking Sam to do that again. I mean, Sam's still slightly cheesed about that, Bucky. But, it seems to work, and Sam agrees with A Great Deal Of Reluctance.

Zemo's just standing there all quiet and well-mannered as they go through this, like he's their little pet whackjob.

The garage is full of classic cars belonging to Zemo and they're full of weapons and other goodies. He says he spent years tracking down all the Hydra people who might know how to make the serum, because if it's out there, then somebody could create an army of people like the Avengers. He's taking clothes out of one of the cars and finds a purple ski mask, which he stealthily slips into a bag. Nobody cares about your weird purple mask, Zemo, I've thought that thing was dumb for 30 years.

"To do this, we'll have to scale a ladder of low-lifes." heh

Next they go to an airfield. In Germany. You guys, come on.

Anyway, Zemo owns a plane, he's rich, his family was royalty, he's a baron. Sam's like 'wtf?' Bucky just rolls with everything. Or he does until they're on the plane later and Zemo has somehow lifted Bucky's book of amends and decides to read through it. "Who is Nakajima?" And Bucky's got him by the throat.

Sam's all hey that's Steve's book. "I told him about Trouble Man, he wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What did you think?" "I like 40s music, so…" "You didn't like it?!?!?!?!" "I liked it." Zemo chimes in, "It is a masterpiece, James. Complete, comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience." lol wtf

"Everybody loves Marvin Gaye," Sam is so offended. "I like Marvin Gaye," Bucky says, probably trying to remember 'who is Marvin Gaye?' "Steve *adored* Marivn Gaye," Sam insists. lol. I like Marvin Gaye, Sam.

Zemo starts going off about Steve, and how the danger with those heroes and super soldiers is they're put on a pedestal and we forget about their flaws. And while he's not wrong, he also clearly wants Sam to throw him out of that airplane.

"Do we want to live in a world with people like the Red Skull? No. That is why we're going to Madripoor." Ahh Madripoor, I haven't thought about that place in a long, long time. A wretched hive of scum and villainy, iirc. Ah, yes, Zemo and Bucky confirm.

Zemo says they can't go as themselves and Bucky's going to have to "become someone you claim is gone". Bucky looks Deeply Unhappy.

On to a GRC resettlement camp in Latvia. Karli is playing soccer with some young kids. Because of the good-natured idealism. She's summoned to a hospital bed, in a ward stuffed with beds in an old, fancy building that's seen better days. Somebody is dying and she's crying at their bedside. Her mom maybe?

Back to Madripoor. It's a glittering city of colorfully-lit skyscrapers. The trio are walking across a bridge to give us a picturesque view and exposit about what they'll be doing. Sam is wearing a very questionable suit with like a black and red floral pattern and yellow-green circles. Or something. I can't tell what's going on with that thing. He says he looks like a pimp. Well no, but it is a terrible suit. Zemo calls it fashion forward, but Zemo wears a great coat with a fur collar and a purple ski mask. Don't take fashion tips from Zemo.

He says Sam will play a "sophisticated, charming, African rake, named Conrad Mack. Aka the Smiling Tiger." Sam is still not thrilled, "even has a bad nickname." Though, yes, the original dude does dress that poorly and he looks like Sam, so suck it up, Sam.

Fortunately they don't have to walk all the way across the bridge (it is a long ass bridge), they're met by a car about halfway and Zemo says they have to super duper stay in character no matter what happens.

The car is surrounded by elaborately decorated motorcycles ridden by very armed people. Hell of a welcome wagon. They're escorted to a graffitied, crumbling underpass, presumably the entrance to Low Town. It's part Macao, part Kowloon, part Jakarta, crammed full of neon and people and ramshackle buildings piled together in a maze of narrow streets, rails, and weird building-to-building bridges. Good set design.

Everybody is "fashion forward" and very heavily armed. They pass a wall with the words "Power Broker Is Watching". That's the charming fellow Karli and her do-gooders stole from.

They enter a bar decorated with golden baboon skulls and koi fish. Zemo asks "are you ready to comply, Winter Soldier?" he's attracted attention from unsavory sorts. I mean, more unsavory than the already unsavory sorts who fill the bar. The bartender is surprised to see Zemo and the Smiling Tiger. Zemo asks for Selby.

Somebody at a nearby table pulls a hood over her head, and by somebody I mean Sharon Carter. NOT SUBTLE SHARON!

Bartender asks the Smiling Tiger if he wants the usual and Sam silently nods. The bartender seems suspicious, but he takes a pickled snake out of a jar, cuts something out of it, drops it in a glass and places it in front of Sam who's like 'what in the actual I am going to puke'. lol Sam bravely tosses it back and does not puke no matter how much he really wants to and he really wants to. Bucky's being the Winter Soldier and is not at all laughing in his head about this.

A power broker minion comes over and tells Zemo he's not welcome there. Zemo says if PB wants him to leave, he can talk to him himself or bring Selby. The minion looks at Bucky and asks if he got a new haircut. Bucky gives him pure murder face. So the Power Broker and his minions know the Winter Soldier, so they were Hydra? Or, I guess, they all ran in the same shady circles.

Anyway, PUNCHING AT LAST! Power Broker minions approach to remove Zemo and Zemo tells the Winter Soldier to attack. Bucky is not pleased, but I am, because now there's punching. It's just been the sort of week that needs punching to improve it. Bar brawl! It's a lopsided fight, Bucky's wiping the floor with these dudes and the suspicious bartender is moving away to make a call.

"It didn't take much for him to fall back into form," Zemo tells Sam. Shut your pie hole, Zemo.  Aw, now the guns come out and the fight's over. Zemo calls off the Winter Soldier and the bartender tells them Selby will see them.

Selby is lounging in her backroom, listening to 50s french pop, and hanging out with lizards and piles of cash. As you do. She'd like to know why Zemo is there and by the way wasn't he in prison? She makes a weird purring sound at Sam. lol. I like her. The actress looks familiar but I can't place her. Anyway.

Zemo says if she tells them what she knows about the super soldier serum, he'll give her the Winter Soldier and his control words. Then Zemo weirdly fondles Bucky's face and like rubs at the cleft in his chin. lol. fucking weirdo.

Selby is charmed. She says she's glad she didn't kill him straight away. Weirdos of a feather, I suppose. Anyway, she says the serum is in Madripoor and developed by Dr. Wilfred Nagel. He was working for the PB. She won't give up Nagel's location for free, though. …and Sam's phone rings. Pro tip, Sam: turn off your phone when you go into meetings with deeply shady crime bosses.

Everybody stops and stares at him and he just sort of lets it ring. It's his sister. Dude, just turn it off. Too late. Selby wants him to answer it on speaker. Okay, well, she'll kill you either way, so just refuse the call and get ready for punching and running. So, he answers it.

Sarah says she needs to talk to him about the situation and he wants her to say exactly what situation. So, she says the one with the boat, dummy, and are you high? So he's going to play this off as a Doing Crime phone call. And it kind of works until Sarah calls him Sam. Selby's like wtf kill them and then she gets shot in the chest by … I don't know who? somebody from the outside. Now this trio of geniuses is going to get blamed for it. Immediately a bounty for them goes out to like everybody in Low Town. lol. That went well, guys.

And the shooting starts, they run. Except not so great for Sam who we just discovered is wearing heels. "I can't run in these heels!"

Here come the bikers. And they get picked off by somebody in a nearby warehouse. Oh, is that Sharon? Yep. And she's salty .When asked what she's doing there, "I stole Steve's shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass so you (sam) could save his ass (bucky) from his ass (zemo)." lol. She didn't have any backup so she's off the grid in Madripoor. Did nobody think to clear her after everybody was all heroic and then pardoned after the Un-Snappening? Come on, guys.

She's better than they deserve and despite being bitter, she says she's got a place in High Town they can hide.

Sharon runs a gallery selling stolen masterpieces and other hot craft goodies. The creators of this show bless us with a long shirtless Sam scene as he changes out of this Smiling Tiger duds and apologizes to Sharon. She says she'd be arrested if she went back to the States and Madripoor doesn't allow extradition. Besides, she muses, heroing is hypocritical bullshit. Right Sam, since you gave up the shield and all. And Sam's all "bwhu?"

Then she turns her bitter on Bucky and asks how the new Cap is and Bucky's like "i hate him the most" and she's all 'come on', she knows he buys into all that heroic bullshit, "before you were his (zemo) pet psychopath you were Mr America, Cap's best friend." Well, no before that he was the Winter Soldier long before Zemo.

"Wow, she's kind of awful now," Bucky tells Sam. lol. You really get a sense of how much Bucky lucked out with his goat farm. Thanks Wakanda!

Sam gets them back to the point and wants to know where Nagel is, though Sharon says they should stay out of it to be safe. Sam presses, he says he can help clear Sharon's name and she's like 'wow, bargaining with my life?' but he gives her a Cap-worth speech about trying. "They cleared the bionic staring machine and he's killed almost everybody he's met." "I heard that," Bucky says from ten feet away. "I don't trust charity." You just tried to guilt him about bargaining with your life, Sharon!

Anyway, they strike a deal.

Zemo's being suspiciously quiet.

Then they go to a rave. Madripoor is party central. Sharon's gallery is hosting a party for clients and whatnot. She'll see what she can find. For some reason she invites the boys to join her at the party because hiding from the bounty on them and probably also from the Power Broker means walking into parties packed full of the sort of people who buy expensive stolen goods in Madripoor, like say, the Power Broker or his wealthier minions.

Zemo's just happy to be out of prison. The shot of him dancing. lol.

Sharon finds a lead on Nagel and the next day this quartet of galaxy brains heads to the docks. Nothing bad ever happens when you go look for scientists at the docks. No sir. And he is apparently hanging out in a shipping container. Sharon's like hurry up you've got a bounty on your heads and I'm sick of you three already.

The container is empty, but Sharon insists it's the right one. Zemo goes in and finds the false back which leads to a set of stairs going up. "Comin' Home Baby" is playing in the distance. I know I always listen to Mel Torme when I'm tinkering on gene-altering serums in my secret shipping container lab.

They find Dr. Nagel, who is not keen on chatting but he's willing to maybe listen to offers. He's definitely the mad scientist type.

Sharon, keeping watch outside, spots trouble. Some bad guys heading towards the container. She attacks! Moar punchies! Or beating the shit out of people with a baton. It's eleventy zillion bounty hunters. How did they find them? Did that Very Wanted Trio maybe go to a very popular party the night before, or something?

Bucky attempts to persuade Nagel with his gun. Nagel says he was brought in to Hydra to work on the Winter Soldier program. Then he was recruited by the CIA. They had blood samples of a subject (Isaiah? the black super soldier from last ep), and he was able to recreate the serum off of that. "I was a god! I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do."

Zemo is pacing around like a very, very angry psycho about to shoot the mad scientist. Guys, maybe it wasn't a good idea to bring Zemo to the person who could create the super soldier serum, given that is the opposite of what he wants. Kill Nagel, no more super soldiers. This is gonna end bloody. Zemo seems to have found a gun hidden in the lab. Yep.

"How have we never heard about this?" Sam asks. Well Sam, it turns out Nagel was blipped. Thanks, Thanos! Anyway, when he came back the CIA project was abandoned but the Power Broker was happy to help fund him. He made 20 vials and Karli stole those. And then Karli being a super duper genius, called him a few days earlier and asked if he could help somebody dying of tuberculosis. Karli … don't call the bad guys and ask for help after you stole from them. That's like day one stuff, kiddo.

Meanwhile, Sharon is still fighting every bounty hunter in Madripoor. She's killed like twenty guys.

Sharon runs in "guys we're seriously out of time" and Zemo takes the distraction to shoot Nagel. Who didn't see that coming? Oh yeah, Sam and Bucky and Sharon. Nobody was using the one (1) brain cell today. Or Zemo was. That's what you get for loaning it to the lunatic.

And then somebody fires a freaking rocket at the shipping container lab. Man. But, can you collect a bounty if all that's left are unidentifiable, charred corpses? Nobody in Madripoor is using the brain cell today.

Now they're trapped in a burning lab that's full of probably very bad explosive chemicals and o2 tanks. And yep, it partially blows up. Zemo gets away. Or seems to have, anyway. It's a gun battle now and also arguing. lol. Sharon's like "FOR REAL YOU IDIOTS?"

Oh, here comes Zemo, stomping along the top of a shipping container, carrying his purple ski mask. He fires at a gas line, the explosion distracting the bounty hunters and giving the trio time to run. Zemo beats up some bounty hunters and then finds a convertible muscle car in a container and swings by to pick up the others. Sam is very grumpy "you're going back to jail". lol.

Sharon's like 'okay, buh-bye!', she's had enough. Aww, is she really only in one episode? Well, Sam does promise to try and get her that pardon, so …

Anyway, Bucky calls shotgun and refuses to move the seat up for Sam. Payback is sweet. Heh.

Oh, not done with Sharon yet. She meets a minion and says they've got a couple of big problems.

Lithuania. Karli and one of her pals are stalking a GRC depot. Karli's sad. Her buddy says she should take some time to mourn. But, no, she's got do-gooding to do. They chat for a bit about what they'd be doing if they weren't do-goodering. She'd be a teacher or some such. They were all in Madripoor, washed up there during the blip, put then put out when everybody returned. Hmm. Lots of expositioning. Blah blah, scary taking the serum. "But it was worth it, because this world is ours." And they're going to give it to the kids in the displacement camps. … alrighty then.

Anyway, she's convinced that now that Nagel is dead, the Power Broker will come to her begging for the rest of the serum. No, sweety, I really don't think a person like that begs. Yikes.

"So we've got the one fight ahead of us then? I'll take those odds," says her very dim buddy.

In the prison in Berlin, Captain Massive Tool is talking to the guards about how Sam and Bucky where there when Zemo escaped and the guard's all "you … you don't think they had something to do with him getting out…." World class security. I find it really grating that Captain Tool calls Sam and Bucky by their first names. It's just so weirdly familiar that it almost crosses into dismissive. Completely unearned familiarity.

Lemar says they can't just accuse Sam and Bucky without evidence, but Captain Tool seems to think they can just, you know, make it up or some shit. "If we get the job done, do you think they're going to sweat us on the how?" Fuck you, Captain Tool.

Back in Zemo's plane, Bucky's fastidiously cleaning his metal arm, like a big grumpy cat. And Sam is trying to get a lead on the person (Madani) Nagel told him Karli wanted to help. He's got Torres on it.

They get to talking about the shield and how many people died or got messed up because of it/the serum. Sam says he made a mistake giving it up and he should have destroyed it. Bucky says, "Look that shield represents a lot of things to a lot of people, including me. The world is upside down, we need a new Cap, and it ain't gonna be Walker [preach]. So before you destroy it, I'll take it from him myself." Kick his ass, Bucky!

Torres gets back to Sam just as Zemo brings them lunch. Such a good host. "They found Madani. Dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea." … was that last bit really necessary? Like Riga is such a mystery? Even if you don't know where it is, like, that's so weirdly clunky. Somehow I think if you don't know Riga, you probably don't have the Baltic in the map in your head, either.  'Have you ever been to London? A city on the River Thames.' 'I've always wanted to go to Los Angeles, a city near the Pacific Ocean.'

Bucky should have said "oh yeah, i love Riga. I killed a diplomat there back in '64. Great beer."

Zemo's got a place they can go and he's looking forward "to coming face to face with Karli." Not creepy at all, Zemo. Nope.

Meanwhile, the kids are raiding the GRC depot and chatting way too much and calling each other by name. Oh dear.

"Filthy Flag Smashers" grumps a soldier tied up on the floor. I can't take them at all seriously with a name like that. Karli says they had six months of supplies just sitting there. "Don't you understand, we're fighting for our lives." Are you? Why and in what way?

Okay, so this is my continuing issue here. They're trying to build up this un-Blipped world, which is great, but they're doing it through So Much Exposition and so much of it is vague. We're supposed to think the GRC are probably shady, but are they? I don't know. Could be. They're sitting on these supplies! Evil! Maybe they are, but why? Why stockpile all that? Is it being sold on a black market? Or diverted to other people? Who knows! I don't. You don't.

We're supposed to sympathize with the Flag Munchers, but they're so vague in their goals. They want the world back how it was during the Blip. Okay. How was it? I don't know. What was so great about it? What we saw in Endgame didn't look all that great. But, we saw it from a different point of view, to be sure. So, what was it like for the average person who survived? Hell if I know. Also the Munchers want to help the people in the displacement camps. Okay. So do those two goals go together? I don't know. Are all the displacement camps bad? We're meant to think so, but I don't know. Is it just some of them? Is it regional? Who, exactly, are the displaced? It seems to be a mix of those who were blipped and those who weren't. I guess. I don't know.

It's just all taken out of the Big Book Of Cliched Assumptions for Lazy Worldbuilding. Why actually do the hard work of details, when they can just fall back on tropes, make vague pronouncements about how 'bad' things are, and let us assume the answers. This might bother me less if we didn't have to spend so much time with Captain Tool and the Flag Munchers. I cannot tell you how much I currently don't care. I find this all very frustrating. I don't mean to spoil the fun. Let me look at Sam's face again:

That was better. But, I stopped too soon. We're still with the Munchers. 

They're leaving the building they just looted, and there’s a bit of business I don’t care about, involving Karli’s car and how she’s not taking it, she’s going to just leave it parked, completely unsuspiciously in front of the building. And, she’s going to ride with her pal Mr. Dimbulb. 

She tells him to put his seatbelt on and she's very insistent. And then her car blows up and the building catches fire and it’s very dramatic. 

Her buddy's like wtf there were people in there and Karli says, "This is the only language these people understand." ARGH. Who people? Why is bombing them the only language they understand? Like, in this show, the GRC have literally DONE NOTHING. Nothing we’ve seen and nothing we’ve heard. At least have people chat about dark and dire rumors or something. Hell, they haven’t even been accused of doing anything other than ‘caring more about the people who returned than the ones who never left’ which is literally their job. sighing all night long. Maybe they’re horrible and evil and the Worst Thing Ever. But I DON’T KNOW THAT, because nothing in the show has bothered to establish that. 

ANYWAY

Riga, a city on the Baltic Sea

The trio are walking down the street, Zemo expositing for us again. Sokovia was apparently swallowed by neighboring countries, erased from the map. "I don't suppose any of you bothered visiting the memorial? Of course not. Why would you?"

Bucky's looking not happy. Probably remembering '64. They get to Zemo's place and Bucky says he's going to go on a walk. Zemo and Sam go on ahead and Bucky watches until they're out of sight and he circles back and finds a beeping thingy on the ground. He notices something across the street. Ah another round beepy thing. Now he's collecting them. He steps into an alley and says, "You dropped something". Nobody immediately appears.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up." And he turns around and it's one of the Dora Milaje. She looks unhappy and she’d like to know where Zemo is. Yeah, the Wakandans are not just gonna let Zemo wander free. That's a sticky situation you got yourself in, White Wolf.

Credits.

Well, I really enjoyed the bits that didn't contain the Flag Munchers or Captain Tool. Do better with your world-building, people.

[detectiveupstead]

Stay the Night [Upstead One Shot]

A/N: Hello, friends! This Upstead one shot (a grand total of 7,790 words) is based off of the Grey’s Anatomy episode, The Sound of Silence, in which Meredith gets brutally attacked by a patient. This, however, is my own spin of Hailey getting attacked by an offender and the aftermath. Hope you enjoy it!

He should have followed her.

That’s the only thought that was running through Jay’s mind. It was the only thought capable of running through his mind as he stood outside of the trauma bay, surrounded by his team, surrounded by Platt and fellow officers who had shown up as soon as the news broke. Jay was deaf to any sound, blind to everything else, only hearing the clamor of Will and the other doctors as he watched them treat Hailey. Upon noticing her state and the severity of her injuries, it hadn’t crossed anyone’s minds to shut the glass door and draw the curtain inside. And so Jay stood and watched.

It was only Adam and Kevin’s hands on him that stopped Jay from launching into the bay when he heard a strained, anguished cry emit from Hailey, unsure of what happened given the number of medical personnel surrounding her. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest, grunting against his friends’ grips as he tried to throw himself into the room, wanting to push aside all of the doctors for hurting her when he knew they were only helping. Hailey’s scream was followed by hoarse, heavy breathing, and Jay’s eyes burned with unshed tears as he jerked away from Adam and Kevin’s grip, burying his fingers in his short hair as he watched. Because that’s all he could do. Just watch and wait.

He should have fucking followed her.

*****

“Hey! Stop! Police!”

Why did they always fucking run? It never failed to exasperate Hailey as she chased after Nicholas, adrenaline pumping her legs, muscles working as she sprinted after him. Her boots thudded against the pavement as she went after him, gun in hand and, in the back of her mind, unsure if she was grateful for the lack of civilians on the late evening street. People milling around meant the possibility of no clear shot should she need to take it, but the lack of them meant nothing hindering Nicholas from getting away from her.

He turned the corner at the end of the block and Hailey forced herself to slow down, raising her gun as she checked around the wall before raising her weapon and following through, blue eyes sharp and eyebrows furrowed when she didn’t catch sight of Nicholas. No way he could’ve made it all the way to the other end already, or just disappear into thin air. Her senses on high alert, trying to pick up on any sound that would indicate Nicholas’s whereabouts—his breathing, his footsteps, anything—with her blue eyed gaze flickered everywhere as she carefully moved further down the narrow alley.

Apparently her senses weren’t sharp enough.

Somehow, Nicholas got the drop on her, using it to his advantage as the first thing he did was knock the gun out of her hand, the weapon clattering several feet away from their now struggling figures. Hailey was, by no means, someone who would go down without putting up a fight, face scrunched up in frustrated anger and determination as she tried to get the upper hand on Nicholas. But it was proving to be difficult, something Hailey was coming to a gradual, panicked realization, when she considered Nicholas probably had over a hundred pounds and a whole lot of muscles on her definitely smaller frame. Hand to hand combat with someone significantly bigger than her hadn’t been a wise choice—not that it had been much of a choice to begin with.

His fist was drawn back, and Hailey’s attempt of blocking it was useless as Nicholas’s fist came in contact with Hailey’s jaw, a pained grunt escaping her upon impact as the hit settled deep in her jaw bone. She felt as though her entire head had collided with something hard, eyes automatically squeezing shut as the pain was accompanied by the familiarly metallic taste of blood.

She stumbled back, but Nicholas’s hands were on her shoulders, using his strength to slam her into the brick wall behind her, the sound of her radio clattering to the ground distant to her ears. Hailey’s blonde hair flew at the harsh, jerky movement, her jacket doing nothing to prevent the scrape of the bricks against her back, her head thudding against the wall as her hands pressed against Nicholas’s chest. She dug her nails into him, hoping to bring some semblance of pain to get him to relent, eyes just barely opening to see him snarling at her.

Hailey exhaled sharply through her nose, finding enough strength to bring her right knee up as fast and as harshly as she could, slamming it deep into Nicholas’s stomach with a heated growl of her own. And although he keeled over with a groan, Hailey’s knee was no match for Nicholas’s stamina, because he recovered far quicker than she had anticipated, doing so by burying his fist in the same spot of her jaw as he had done so previously, stars exploding behind Hailey’s squeezed shut eyes. And then the air was knocked right out of her lungs as his heavy boot crushed into her chest, the sheer power of the kick once against knocking her into the brick wall. Only this time the rough action sent her flying back at an awkward angle, right side catching the brunt of the hit, and as Hailey fell to the ground, she had a vague feeling her right arm was broken. The numbing pain in her jaw told her it was probably broken, too.

This wasn’t good. This was not fucking good.

Nicholas wasn’t quite finished with her yet. “Think you could’ve taken me, bitch?” he spat, his large figure looming over her. There was a mild ringing in her ears. Why did his voice sound so far away? Hailey pressed the heels of her palms against the ground, the gravel digging into her skin as she tried to push herself up on shaky arms. But Nicholas grabbed a handful of her blonde hair at the top of her head, and Hailey cried out in pain as he yanked it to slam her head against the wall, and suddenly that ringing grew louder until it was all she could hear, her eyes squeezed shut, refusing to let the tears of frustration and pain fall. Her body didn’t feel like her own. It felt broken.

It was getting increasingly difficult to breathe, each small inhale and exhale feeling as though shards of glass were being punctured into her lungs. The taste of blood tainted her mouth, leaking down the corners of her mouth in semi thick streams, and her head spun. It hurt and it spun, a kind of pain and dizziness she hadn’t ever experienced.

Another punch to the jaw, though this time Nicholas kindly did so on the other side, his grip no longer on her so when the hit was delivered, she was sent to the floor. Her eyes squeezed shut as she fell, a breathless grunt escaping her, breath hitching when she felt shards of glass that had already been on the floor cut into the skin of her cheek and temple, blood oozing instantly from the new cuts.

“Hailey!”

Jay? She couldn’t be sure if it was him. She couldn’t hear, that much she was coming to realize. The several blows to her head made for a severe concussion, and the son of a bitch fucked up her ears. He fucked up her face and her arm and her chest. She was by no means a doctor, but in her moments of ragged breathing as she slowly came to acknowledge every sharp pain that stung her body, Hailey knew she had some broken ribs.

She heard something familiar then. Pop, pop, pop. Gun shots?

Her eyes could barely stay open, feeling her heart pound erratically in her chest. She knew that feeling an ache every time her heart beat wasn’t a good sign. Through hooded eyes, she saw Nicholas’s figure drop, body landing sideways with his eyes right in line with her own, and Hailey exhaled sharply, painfully. He was dead.

She groaned, eyes squeezing shut, the tears she’d fought to keep back finally falling. It wasn’t her fault. She no longer had the strength to keep them in.

Gentle yet frantic hands were on her, a familiar, far away voice calling her name, and Hailey decided she didn’t want the last thing she saw before she passed out to be the face of the man who did this to her. So she opened her eyes, slowly, reluctantly, blinking in hopes of clearing up her vision. No such luck.

The person above her was calling for help. She could barely hear, only picking out every other word. “5021 George. . . Officer down. . . Roll an ambo. . . Now!” And then hands were grasping her shoulders, her upper half laying on someone’s lap, feeling warm hands lightly touch her cheek. A familiar scent lightly tickled her numb nose—aftershave? She couldn’t tell, not over the taste and smell of blood. “Hailey, you’re gonna be okay. Stay with me, alright?” Jay. It was Jay. She knew it was him. Her head wasn’t right. Neither were her ears or vision. But she opened her eyes just enough to look up at him, to see a blurred familiar face and blurred worried green eyes. “Come on, Hailey. Stay awake. Look at me.”

Jay had her. She was safe. She could close her eyes now. At least she saw him.

*****

His hands were shaking at his sides as he watched his ragged looking brother exit Hailey’s room. They’d wheeled her off to get X-rays before setting her up in a room, and Jay hadn’t sat down for a second as they anxiously waited for an update. Will noted Jay’s red rimmed eyes, saw the anxiety and desperation etched into his features, looking more worse for wear than the other worried, terrified cops loitering around.

“How is she?” Voight asked. Even he didn’t bother hiding his concern for his detective.

Will let out a breath, looking over all of the quiet officers before his eyes finally met his younger brother’s. His throat was tight, never liking the part of the job where he had to recount a loved one’s injuries and sufferings to their family members. It was a million times worse having to tell it to his own brother. “She’s stable,” was how he chose to start off, knowing it was the most important thing. He was speaking to them all, but his gaze was only on Jay. “But she suffered massive head trauma. She’s got a severe concussion, and the blows to her head have caused temporary hearing loss.”

“Oh, my God,” Kim murmured, a sharp breath escaping her as the gravity of the situation befell Intelligence.

Jay remained silent. Numb.

“She—” Adam paused, throat working. “We heard her scream earlier, when you were working on her. What was that? Is—Is she okay?”

Will pursed his lips, breaking their gaze momentarily. “Her jaw was fractured at an awkward angle, which would make it difficult to heal properly. So Dr. Marcel had to—he had to completely break her jaw and wire it shut so it can heal. She can’t speak.” Will exhaled sharply. He always tried to remain detached when it came to situations like these, delivering the terrible news to friends and families of patients. But it was damn near impossible when he was delivering this kind of news to his friends and family. “Her left arm’s broken, and a broken rib punctured her lung, so we had to put in a chest tube. She’s—She’s got a long road ahead of her, most of which is going to be spent here. But she’ll heal.” He shrugged, almost defeated. “Physically, anyway.”

It was a wonder Jay heard anything his brother had been saying at all; his heart was thundering in his chest, blood rushing in his ears and were his fingers shaking? Hailey was hurt. Of course he knew that. He was the one who found her. He was the one who let her go after Nicholas while he took care of the partner. They both had gone without backup, something he had promised himself he would never do or let a partner of his do, and it nearly cost him Hailey.

The image of her laying in the alley, barely breathing and beaten to a horrific pulp. It had reminded Jay of the time when he’d seen her file after her first sting with Booth, bruises discoloring her face. Only this time, the nauseating twist of his stomach was overwhelming because he could have prevented this. He should have followed her, provided ample back up,  and maybe she would be okay then. It was his fault.

“. . . Jay? Hey, Jay.” Will’s voice drew him back out of his muddled, guilt ridden thoughts, blinking tear heavy eyes as he looked at his older brother. All eyes were on him, and Jay would’ve felt them if he wasn’t so damn numb. Will’s concerned eyes were stuck on him, hand resting on Jay’s shoulder as he repeated, “She’s not awake yet but you can go see her.”

It took a moment for Will’s words to register in Jay’s mind, and when they did, he silently moved without a word. He walked the few steps towards her room, well aware of Voight and the rest of Intelligence following after him. Jay’s feet moved of their own accord, not quite comprehending where he was until he stood at the end of Hailey’s bed.

It was gravely silent in the room, the only sound coming from the shrill and continuous beep of the heart monitor, a loud reminder that she was still alive. Still breathing. From his peripherals, Jay noticed his team members entering around him, flanking either side of Hailey’s bed as he remained at the foot of it. Small tubes for the nasal cannula were connected to Hailey, providing her with supplemental oxygen as she lay unconscious.

Jay’s lips parted, a long, slow breath escaping him as he took in the sight of her. Reddish-purple bruises discolored her face, cuts from glass along her cheek, and his chest tightened at the swelling of her jaw. Needles and tubes were connected into her left arm, because her right was in a cast, broken and in need of healing. Her head was wrapped as well, a spot of blood vaguely visible under the white cloth bandaid by her temple. And despite the slow, calm, and steady beeping of Hailey’s heart monitor, Jay could feel his own heart racing in his chest, a guilt and panic mixing together into an overwhelming concoction of anger, desperation, and terror.

He should’ve followed her. He should’ve been her backup.

His fault, his fault, his fault.

The sight of her laying in the bed, unconscious and bruised, suddenly felt like too much. Jay, who had witnessed a lifetime’s worth of horror, couldn’t stand there looking at his partner, at this woman who had such a tight hold on him, because the sight was too much for him to handle. He physically couldn’t do it.

His teeth clenched together, he turned, feet carrying him out of the room, ignoring Vanessa’s soft call of his name as he moved further away and down the hall. Jay’s feet carried him, hands buried in his hair, head bowed as he squeezed his eyes shut. A ball of lead settled deeply in his stomach, throat closing up with a lump that made it difficult to breathe. Get it together, Halstead, he kept repeating to himself, forehead creased with the way his eyebrows were so harshly drawn together. He knew the tell tale signs of an episode, of a panic attack. Recognized the racing of his heart and the flush of his body. Hailey wouldn’t want him losing it like this.

Hailey. She was in this state because of him, wasn’t she?

“Damn it!” His voice echoed in the hall, and Jay didn’t think twice about slamming a fist against the nearest wall. Not head on, saving his knuckles from any damage, just the side of his fist. Still, the pain reverberated through his hand, but he didn’t care.

“Hey, Jay—Look at me!”

It was Voight, with his hands on Jay’s shoulders and heavy voice anchoring him back to reality as he turned Jay around to face him. Jay opened his eyes, eyebrows still draw together, jaw tight as he stared at his sergeant. His head was bowed, chin brought down, looking Voight right in the eyes as the older man stated, “This is not on you, you hear me?”

Jay scoffed, the sound derisive and deprecating, ready to push away from Voight. But Voight was firm, grip on Jay unrelenting, gaze sharp on his detective who stared back with glass sheen eyes. “You both made a tactical decision, and those don’t always end right. This is one of those times. It is not on you.”

“She’s my partner,” Jay spoke, his voice tight and edgy and controlled, ironic given that he felt completely out of his element here. Coming apart as every second passed by. His eyes once again felt heavy as tears drowned them, his emotions getting the better of him. Jay knew he had the habit of losing it in front of others, but it had never been with tears. Not until Hailey was laying in a hospital bed beaten within an inch of her life. “If I don’t have her back, who does?”

There was a silence between the two of them, filled by the distinct sounds of medical personnel doing their jobs and machines beeping in the distant, and Jay knew Voight was realizing there wasn’t much he could say to lift the guilt that suffocated him. “You were both just doing your jobs,” he repeated the idea, looking at him sternly, but the concern was still visible. Concern for Hailey’s recovery, concern for Jay’s conscious. He squeezed his shoulder. “Do you want to head home or—”

“No, no,” Jay instantly said, voice thick as he lifted his chin, gaze flickering up to the ceiling as his eyes remained glistening. He swallowed. “I’m staying.”

He walked past Voight, running is hand down his face as he made his way back to Hailey’s room. His arm dropped to the side as he stood in the doorway, feeling his friends’ eyes on him yet his own remained on the unconscious woman.

Everyone had left after a while, despite wanting to stay. Everyone except Jay, who brought the chair in the corner up to Hailey’s bedside, settling down on it with his elbow on the arm rest and knuckles pressed against his mouth. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, taking in every injury he could see. Every injury Nicholas was able to conflict before Jay got to them, before Jay manage to fire his weapon and fatally shoot the man who had been trying to deliver another kick to Hailey’s stomach.

The offender was dead, but Jay’s guilt was lively as ever.

*****

The only time Jay left Hailey’s room was to change into a new pair of clothes that Will had brought, going into a bathroom in the hallway. His brother had brought in breakfast as well in the morning, but Jay didn’t have the stomach to eat. So the breakfast burrito sat cold in Hailey’s room as Jay left the bathroom, now in a fresh pair of jeans and T-shirt. He hadn’t seen the point in changing, really, but Jay figured Will was trying to get him to move after spending the entire night sleeping on the somewhat comfortable chair.

His body felt heavy, weighed down my worry and guilt and mere exhaustion, given that he barely slept. Not because of the chair—he just didn’t want to take his eyes off Hailey. Logically, reasonably, Jay knew if anything were to happen, the doctors and nurses would be in there in a second to help. But he couldn’t sleep. Didn’t let himself.

Despite his exhaustion, Jay made his way back to Hailey’s room quickly, rounding the corner, only to stop when he was right in front of the room. His heart stilled for a moment, mimicking the way his muscles froze when his widened eyes took in the sight before him.

Blue. Gorgeous blue. The prettiest fucking blue he’d ever seen.

His voice was thick, throat closed up as he hoarsely sounded, “Hailey.”

He hadn’t even noticed his brother in the room. Jay’s eyes were glued to Hailey, who was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite get a read on—because it said nothing. She sat there, a blank look on her face, watching as he further entered the room and stood at her side. “Hailey, are you—”

She was frowning up at him, silent. Her jaw was still swollen, bruised from the hits it had taken, and she remained quiet. But it was Will who spoke up. “Jay.” He looked towards his older brother, who had a mildly concerned expression etched onto his face. Licking his lips, Will reminded, “She can’t hear, remember? At least not for now.”

Right. Shit, right. Fuck.

Jay blinked quickly a couple of times before looking back down at Hailey, who had been looking between the two Halsteads as she tried to figure out what was being said right over her head. Jay’s throat worked, noticing the frustration evident in her bruised features, before looking up at Will. With her uninjured left hand, Hailey made a gesture, like she was writing, and Will caught on.

“Wanna write something? Hold on,” he said, and Jay watched as he turned his back to them to rummage through a drawer in the counter by the wall. He then turned back to them, offering Hailey a small whiteboard and uncapped the marker before handing that to her, too.

Jay chewed on his lower lip, watching as Hailey wrote something down. When will my hearing come back? She erased the words after Will read them, handing him the marker as he wrote down, Can’t say for sure. Could be a day to a week. Upon reading the response, Hailey’s eyebrows furrowed together, harshly pushing away the whiteboard from her lap towards her feet, a strained groan escaping her, muffled with her jaw being wired shut.

Jay’s stomach twisted at her obvious frustration, biting the inside of his cheek as he and Will exchanged a look. Letting out a breath, Will grabbed the board and erased the words, writing some more. How’s your pain level? I can give you something if it’s too much.

Hailey read the words before giving a shake of her head, exhaling sharply through her nose as she turned her gaze up to the ceiling, apparently done with the silent conversation. Will looked at Jay, murmuring, “I’ll check on her later,” before exiting the room.

Settling down in the chair he had failed to sleep in, Jay let out a slow breath, hands tightly gripping the arms of the chair as his green eyes remained on his partner. Maybe his gaze was burning a hole in Hailey’s face because she was suddenly looking towards him, blue meeting green, and Jay remained silent as she watched him.

He sniffed, hand reaching up to run down his face once more as he broke their gaze, suddenly unable to look at her. He looked at her and all of her injuries were a reminder of how this happened. How he had been too late.

Jay heard a sharp tap, prompting him to look up to see Hailey tapping the marker against the bed to get his attention. His lips parted when he read the words she was showing him on the whiteboard.

This wasn’t your fault.

Throat closing up, Jay felt something inside of him crack; something that had began to crack the second he had entered the alley. His teeth pressed together, jaw tight to keep his expression from crumbling in front of her. But the fear had yet to loosen its grip on him—that unadulterated fear that he lost her was still heavy on his mind and heart, reminding him of how close of a call this was. He’d lost people; in Afghanistan, in Chicago, and it never got easier. He learned to healthily deal with his emotions, learned to be okay. But Jay had a feeling that if Hailey had succumbed to her injuries, if she wasn’t staring at him right now, if her bright blue eyes were instead dull and lifeless. . . He had a feeling he wouldn’t come back from that.

*****

When she woke up, her head wasn’t pounding as thunderously as it had been before. Still, though, Hailey’s eyes felt heavy as kept her head against the pillow, and she managed to shift her gaze to the right to catch sight of her partner. Jay slept on his side, a pillow under his head and a blanket half covering him, and Hailey exhaled quietly through her nose at the thought of him being uncomfortable. He’d slept on that couch for—how long had it been? She couldn’t remember how many days she’d already spent—but she wished he would go home to his bed.

She also knew that asking him would be pointless. Hailey hadn’t left the waiting room when he had been shot—not until she knew for sure that he was alive and well and recovering. But she was fine, wasn’t she? Sure, she couldn’t hear, her jaw was wired shut and she had some broken bones, but she was alive. Jay should go home and sleep on a comfortable bed rather than that couch.

But she would be lying if she said she didn’t appreciate, didn’t love the fact that he insisted on staying with her, even with his hatred of hospitals.

There was a subtle ringing in her ears, a distant muffle of a sound she couldn’t comprehend, and Hailey squeezed her eyes shut at the reminder of her temporary deafness. And her temporary muteness. Her eyes opened and she looked around her room, towards the windows on the left that allowed her to see the rest of the hospital, the nurses’ station a few feet away as the world around her continued to move. She just couldn’t hear it.

The soreness in her jaw was ever present even as she tried to clench it, wincing as the pain throbbed through the bone, and Hailey hated the water that began burning her eyes. She felt trapped in her own body, unable to hear or speak, just watch everything around her move while she was stuck in this bed with a broken arm and even more fucked up body. She hated that she was in this position, hated Nicholas for putting her here, hated herself for not being able to defend herself properly even though, logically, Hailey knew she couldn’t fault herself for that.

Hailey Upton was never one to pity herself, never one to think of herself as a victim. But in this moment, days after being admitted to the hospital and needing help to go to the bathroom or take a sip of water or being unable to properly eat anything, her emotions were catching up to her and the tears were spilling from her eyes before she could help it.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tears wet her cheek as she leaned her head back, the sobs escaping her. She tried to remain quiet—but it was difficult knowing how loud or quiet she was when her hearing was damaged. The muffled sounds from before remained as such, distant in her ears, but Hailey could feel the quivering of her lips and the heaviness of her heart as she cried out of anger, frustration, and sadness.

Hailey wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, with closed eyes leaking tears, but eventually she felt the mattress of her hospital bed shift, felt a body lay down right next to hers, and the familiar scent of her partner invaded her nose as she felt Jay’s left arm settle on the pillow above her head as his chest pressed against her right arm. She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes, the sobs escaping her as she, for once, allowed herself to drown in her misery, her self pity, her anger.

But Jay was ever present. He remained lying next to her, propped up by her pillows, his left hand brushing away her blonde hair from her forehead while his other hand found her right one. His hand felt warm holding hers, callused fingers wrapping around hers perfectly as he anchored her emotions, pulling her out of the vat she was drowning in.

Everything hurt—physically and emotionally. Sure, she’d been banged up and bruised,  had her fair share of trips to the hospital to get checked out for on-duty injuries. But it never had been this bad. She’d never gotten so beaten up before; God, she thought what Booth had done all those years ago at that damned New Years party had been awful—this felt ten times worse.

The hand that held hers in this moment, though, helped. She squeezed Jay’s hand, trying to steady out her breathing, which was a bit difficult when her mouth was wired shut and nose had become stuffy from the tears she had let out. But as she tried to calm down, catch her breath, the distant ringing in her ears started to fade, and her unsteady breathing started to sound louder and louder rather than feeling as though she was hearing it with cotton stuck in her ears.

Over the beating of her heart, sounds slowly started becoming clearer, gradually emerging from a distant muffle to being clear and present, and as the realization settled in her head, Hailey felt herself being pulled into reality. Jay’s hand still holding hers definitely helped.

The sounds came together slowly. First it was the steady beeping of her heart monitor. Then it was the vague sounds of the hospital bustling beyond her room. And then, finally, it was him.

“. . . love you. I know you can’t hear me, Hailey, I can’t imagine how awful this is. But I’ve got you. I’m here, alright? I love you and I’m here.”

Hailey inhaled sharply as Jay’s quiet, soothing voice filtered in her ears, eyes blinking open to rid of the tears as her blurred vision immediately dropped to his hand holding hers. Her heart once again began pounding as she heard his words, registered them in her muddled brain as a confession she didn’t know he wanted her to hear or not. He’d uttered it thinking she couldn’t. But she had. Her hearing had taken that exact moment to return, and Hailey now knew of a secret of Jay’s heart she wasn’t entirely sure she was meant to.

But it would be a complete lie to say it didn’t lift a weight off her chest she didn’t know she carried.

He loved her. He loved her the way she loved him. And although Hailey Upton didn’t like depending on other people, she held onto his words tightly, afraid of letting them slip.

“I’m gonna be here for you.” He was still talking, oblivious to Hailey’s ability to hear again, his voice quiet by her ear. Hailey knew it made Jay feel like he was doing something, made him feel useful in a situation she knew he otherwise felt helpless in. She was too familiar with that, given that’s how she had felt when he was in surgery. Her gaze still on their joined hands, reveling in the warmth of his touch, she listened to him continue with a small smile in his voice. “I’m gonna be by your side every day while you’re here, even after you’re discharged. You’re gonna be sick of seeing my face by the end of your recovery, but you can boss me around all you want until then.”

That had Hailey letting out a small laugh—as much as she could, anyway, through a wired shut jaw—briefly resting her head against his chest as she gave his hand a squeeze, his words both comforting and amusing. She would never be sick of seeing his face—that much, she was certain of.

Her laugh, despite being muffled because of her jaw, was enough to catch Jay’s attention. She felt him stop before leaning back slightly, and she lifted her gaze to see his bright, widened green eyes peering down at her. This close, Hailey could count every freckle on his face, could see the specks of gold in his green irises, and Hailey tried her best to school herself into a state of tranquility in case the heart monitor decided to betray her.

But Jay was looking at her in surprise, bewilderment, and Hailey raised her eyebrows in silent inquiry until he finally spoke up. “Hails—y-you—can you hear me?”

Hailey nodded, closed lips quirking up ever so slightly as she hummed an affirmative, given that’s all she was capable of doing, and watched as Jay’s lips parted to release the disbelieving scoff that escaped him before he ultimately grinned. “Shit—” Jay cut himself off with a shocked laugh, free hand running down his face while his other squeezed hers. She wanted to smile, the sight of his merely urging her to do so, as Jay shook his head. “I should—I should get a doctor—I’ll get Will, yeah? He’ll give you a quick check up.”

The excitement and relief brightened his eyes, and Hailey knew it was warranted—having her hearing back was a step forward in her recovery, that much she knew—so she nodded with a smile. Even if she didn’t want to let his hand go, or didn’t want to be rid of the warmth of his body as he got off the bed. But she let him go, watched as he stood to his feet with a relieved chuckle and ran his hand through his hair as he gave her one last look before leaving the room.

Despite the circumstances, if she could grin any wider, she would. No surprise it was because of Jay.

*****

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Jay laughed at the satisfied groan Hailey released after swallowing down a mouthful of the gyro he’d gotten for her, his own in his hands he kept forgetting to eat. He was too busy focusing on her. And the sound of her voice he could finally hear after what felt like forever.

“I figured your first proper meal should be your favorite,” Jay told her after taking a sip of his soda. With a smirk, he added, “You’re welcome.”

Hailey rolled her blue eyes, though the smile on her face was evident as she putted the gyro down on the paper plate in her lap to grab a napkin and wipe at her mouth. “I already thanked you—stop fishing.”

Jay merely chuckled before biting into his gyro, but his eyes never left her. She looked better now, much to everyone’s relief. Three days after her hearing had returned, they doctors had taken off the wires from her jaw, though she still hadn’t been allowed to move it too much for a few days after that. But the bruises on her face had started disappearing, yellowing out and nearly blending into her skin, the cuts and her internal injuries were healing well and the thick cast on her left arm was replaced with a brace.

She was getting better and Jay was more than relieved.

“I do need to thank you for something else, though.” Jay raised his eyebrows as Hailey’s blue eyes locked onto his green. Her lips quirked into a smile, showing off those dimples he’d so easily come to adore as she rolled her lip into her mouth. “Thank you for. . . For having my back out there. With Nicholas. You saved my life in the alley, so—you know. Thank you.”

Jay’s lips parted, her words tightening his chest as his eyebrows drew together. He leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs as he gave a shake of his head. “Hailey. . .” He spoke up, breath hitching in his throat as the corner of his lips quirked up. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that. You’re. . .” He paused, feeling his throat lock out of nowhere. Lock from the thought of losing her. Lock from guilt. “You’re my partner and I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

“Jay,” Hailey began with a shake of her own head, eyebrows knitting together. “It wasn’t your fault.”

His jaw clenched, head dropping as his gaze went to the wrapped gyro he was still holding. A frown drew together his eyebrows too, the guilt still tightening his muscles. Since the moment he’d found her in the alleyway, Jay’s thoughts had been running rampant. No words of comfort from his brother, or Voight, or any member of his team calmed him down as he thought of his injured partner and how the extent of her beating could’ve been reduced had he gone after her sooner. Sure, he was occupied with the first offender, but he shouldn’t have let her go after Nicholas without backup. He was her backup. And he didn’t do his job the way he should’ve.

“That’s the first thing you wrote to me when you woke up,” Jay muttered through a dry, short chuckle, her handwriting flashing across his mind.

“I still mean it,” Hailey replied softly. “Besides, I’m doing better and I think I remember you saying something about me bossing you around until I’ve fully recovered.”

At that, despite the weight on his chest, Jay let out a laugh as he lifted his head, catching sight of her wide grin as he shot her look. “That would be the first thing you hear after temporary deafness,” he mused playfully.

Hailey let out a raspy chuckle. “It wasn’t.” He saw the instant moment of regret that flashed across her face as she let those two words slip past her mouth, neck tensing as she pressed her lips together and dropped her gaze to the half eaten gyro in her lap. She was avoiding his gaze, something Jay picked up on instantly, and Jay sat up slightly as his eyebrows furrowed together. What?

“It wasn’t?” he repeated, green eyes watching her carefully. What was she talking about? “Then what was—”

It slammed into him like a truck, harsher than the damn baseball bat he’d taken to the back of his head all those months ago. The blood in his veins froze as his heart jumped up right into the middle of his throat, and he stared at Hailey as she twisted her lips to the side, easily catching sight of the flush that spread across her cheeks. He remembered. Of course he remembered what he’d been murmuring to her, believing that she couldn’t hear him but still feeling the need to voice the words that wrapped around his heart.

He didn’t think she’d heard him. Had only uttered them because she couldn’t hear him. But she had. She knew how he felt. And Jay. . . Was alright with that.

Question was—was she?

“Hailey—”

“Jay—”

They both stopped short and he let out a nervous chuckle, watching as she smiled as well. She gave a shake of her head, gesturing to him with a soft, “Go ahead.”

He let out a breath, putting his plate on the table next to Hailey’s bed before linking his hands together, grip on himself tight as a way of keeping himself together. Jay reminded himself that this was Hailey—his partner, his best friend—and he could tell her anything. But this was different, wasn’t it? Their relationship was already so strong, unbreakable—he didn’t want to risk it. But he also couldn’t just pretend he never said what she had heard.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird between us,” he spoke slowly, carefully. “But I don’t—”

He stopped, feeling a tightness in his throat. Was he making a mistake? He didn’t think so, but the doubt was still present in the back of his mind. “Don’t what?” Hailey prodded quietly, gently. She deserved an answer.

His green eyes locked onto her blue, and Jay saw the hope in her eyes, the softness in her features, and it was enough to make him finish. “I don’t regret it. I meant what I said.”

Jay’s heart was pounding, taking in the way Hailey parted her lips and took in a breath. His gaze never left hers, even as she was about to say something, only to get cut off by a knock on the door that stole their attention, watching as Kim and Kevin entered.

Jay’s gaze flickered back to Hailey, who smiled at their friends, briefly meeting Jay’s gaze. She heard him. That’s all that mattered.

*****

She was finally able to go home. It felt damn good to finally leave her hospital room after taking a shower without feeling like her entire body was aching. She was finally in her own clothes, too, no longer in a hospital gown that ran a draft up her back. There was still a cast on her arm, but for the most part, she was physically healed and ready to sleep on the comfortable mattress of her own bed.

As soon as her discharge papers were signed, she went to pick up her duffel bag, only to be beaten to it as it was scooped right up, and she let out a soft chuckle at the sight of Jay standing there in his usual jeans and dark hoodie. His badge was clipped to his waistband, gun on his side and her bag in his hand. “Hey,” Hailey greeted with a smile. “Off duty already?”

A half smirk tilted at his lips. “Sarge let me off to pick you up. Since Rojas is on an undercover op.”

Hailey’s smile remained, biting the corner of her lip as she eyed him knowingly. “Sounds good,” she said. The two of them then began walking towards the door—Hailey couldn’t be out of there fast enough.

The car ride to her place consisted of the radio playing softly in the background as Jay told Hailey about the case they’d just wrapped up, knowing she didn’t like being out of the loop when it came to cases. It was comfortable, like nothing had changed, despite a conversation they’d had days ago still lingering in the back of their minds—a conversation they hadn’t brought up again since the day they’d had it. But they would; Hailey had a feeling.

When they got to her house, Jay came inside, setting her duffel bag on the coffee table in her living room. The house was silent, but Hailey felt a flood of relief and comfort rush through her as she stood in her own home. She hadn’t been there for so long, the days having blended together while she was in the hospital, and she couldn’t contain the sigh of relief that escaped her.

“You good?” Hailey opened her eyes to see Jay watching her, the amusement apparent in his features and signature half smirk. She didn’t particularly care he just saw her have a moment.

“Just glad to be out of the hospital,” Hailey told him with a smile, running her fingers through her blonde hair.

“Yeah, you and me both,” Jay chuckled softly.

She smiled, taking a step towards him, aware of the pounding in her heart as she looked up at her tall partner. “I appreciate you spending all those nights with me in the hospital, Jay.” Then, with a teasing scoff, she added, “Especially at the expense of your back.” She couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable that couch was.

He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face remained as he responded, “Anything for you, partner.”

Hailey rolled her lower lip into her mouth, blue eyes locked onto his green as she repeated, “Partner?” She hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question, but it gave her the excuse to tilt her head a bit and find the courage to ask, “Is that all we are?”

Jay’s smile faltered slightly as he heard her question, and for a heart stopping moment, Hailey feared she had misstepped, had drudged up a topic he’d been trying to evade. But Hailey could read Jay well, knew him as well as she knew herself, and she saw the relief that swam in his green eyes as he gave a shake of his head. “Hell no.”

His hands were gentle on her face, carefully cradling her jaw after the rough time it had, but his touch was welcome as he tilted her head up and met her halfway with his lips pressing against hers. Hailey’s eyes instantly fell shut at the pressure of his soft lips against hers, returning the kiss just as earnestly as the stars exploded behind her eyes and her hands gripped his wrists to keep him in place.

The scruff he was sporting scratched at Hailey’s skin deliciously and she leaned into him, leaned into the kiss, feeling dizzy in the best way. She felt weak in the knees as Jay kissed her, as if he’d wanted to kiss her like this for the longest time, and she understood the feeling. She couldn’t remember how long she’d waited for this moment, either.

The kiss ended too soon, but Jay’s nose brushed against Hailey’s and she let out a soft breath. Her skin was warm, the heat from Jay’s body seeping into her bones. The smile, blissed out and sincere, upturned Hailey’s lips. “By the way,” she breathed, her lips brushing against Jay’s as she spoke, “I love you, too.”

Hailey could feel the relief relax his muscles, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone while the fingers of his other hand brushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “Yeah?” he murmured, voice dropping an octave lower. It sent a shiver down her spine.

“Yeah,” Hailey returned, eyes slowly fluttering open. Her heart jumped to see his green eyes already watching her. Smile widening slightly, she asked, “Wanna stay over? My bed’s more comfortable than a hospital couch.”

Jay’s smirk returned—how did he manage to look charming at the same time? “Yeah,” he answered quietly before the smirk widened. “Think I’ve gotten too used to spending my nights with you.”

Hailey grinned, dimples in view. “Not that you’re complaining.”

Jay pressed another kiss to her lips, soft and slow. “Never.”

[confused-stars]

Dusk is Dawn, Day is Night (Up is Down, Left is Right) - aka cloudfam au

Chapter Two on Ao3

or right here, for your convenience! (also here’s my ko-fi!)

Tenko sat atop one of the biggest trash hills on Dagobah Beach and watched the twig of a teenager try to move a way too big piece of debris. It was... kind of funny to watch him struggle, heels digging deep into the sand. But on the other hand, Tenko knew the kid had really been trying for weeks. This beach could be cleared pretty quickly if Tenko just used his quirk, but Toshi had explicitly told him not to.

But also Toshi wasn't here right now.

Tenko began climbing down the trash pile, years of practice scaling unstable debris making his movements quick and confident. He landed in the sand and pulled off a glove as he approached Midoriya. "Hey, let me get that for you."

The kid jumped, having apparently not noticed him before, but he stepped away when Tenko reached out. "Um, I'm actually supposed to be doing this for t-training..." The piece of trash - part of an old armchair from what Tenko could surmise - crumbled into dust.

"What All Might doesn't know can't hurt him." He shrugged, tugging his glove back on before he stuffed both hands into the front pocket of his hoodie.

Big, green eyes were staring at him in awe. "You're Dust Cloud! I've seen so many videos of your work in rescue, you're amazing, you clearly put so much thought in the way you apply your quirk, there has to be so much physics at work trying to figure out how to only disintegrate parts of a fallen building and not hurting the hostages in the process. How does your quirk work? It needs all five fingers, right? And it's more of a mutation than an emitter because you can't turn it off? Kacchan is kind of like that because his sweat is always explosive, no matter what. Oh, do you control where the decay spreads and how far when it's a large area? Is it true that you once rescued Endeavor's whole family from a villain attack? Are you-" Tenko slapped a hand on the kid's shoulder. "Please stop." He was a lot. Toshi hadn't been lying about that.

"S-sorry!" Midoriya was flushed entirely red and Tenko had to fight back a smile. He'd always thought he wasn't great with kids, but his family had left him no choice but to learn.

"Just slow down a bit if you're actually expecting answers," he suggested mildly, "C'mon, water break. I've been watching you for a while, you need to hydrate."

Midoriya made a soft noise in the back of his throat. "... you've been watching me?"

Tenko shrugged. "All Might couldn't make it today so he asked me to drop by and make sure you don't overextend yourself," he explained.

Midoriya stared at him. "I didn't know you worked with All Might!"

Tenko headed over to where the kid had dropped his backpack, Midoriya trailing after him. "I don't work with him, technically. But he trusts me." He paused. "Enough to tell me how he's planning on giving you his quirk."

Midoriya seemed to short-circuit for a moment. Tenko couldn't blame him. There would probably be a lot of that in the future for the poor kid now that he was involved with Toshi. It was just secrets upon secrets with him. Tenko being one of them.

"Are you still with me?" Tenko asked at the distant look in Midoriya's eyes as he pulled a water bottle out of his backpack and took a few large gulps. When he was finished, the kid nodded. "I just didn't... he hasn't mentioned you. N-not that there was much time to... he's always so busy, so-"

"Slow. Down." Tenko was going to get a headache. Oh, Oboro and Hizashi would adore this boy. Shouta would, too, but he'd try to deny it. And Himiko would be thrilled. Maybe they'd end up in the same class together.

Midoriya swallowed. "S-sorry."

Tenko sighed. "I'm not offended he didn't mention me. Don't worry about that. There's a lot he'll need to fill you in on, and he'll do that on his own time." Like who else knew about One for All, for instance, because it would be important for Midoriya to know who to trust. And it would be important for him to not only be relying on Toshi. As much as Tenko loved his dad, he wasn't actually a great teacher, and in his urge to do everything right all the time, coupled with years of traumatic experiences, he often forgot to consider other perspectives.

“He’s mentioned that, yeah,” Midoriya murmured, “There’s a lot more to this quirk than just… a quirk, isn’t there?”

He was clever. Good. It wasn’t that Tenko didn’t trust Toshi’s judgement, but it was still good to make sure for himself. “There’s… a lot,” he confirmed. They’d have to talk through how and when to reveal which pieces of information. It wouldn’t be fair to let the kid run into things blind, but overwhelming him was also a risk.

This absolutely could not be left to Toshi entirely. Tenko wasn’t the best for it, either. Shouta might be, his deadpan way of delivering information was often comforting. Or Oboro, with his easy empathy. Midoriya seemed like he might need someone gentle to help him along.

“Listen, kid…” Tenko cringed at himself. He wasn’t even that much older than Midoriya, it didn’t feel natural. “There’s a lot of people in your corner here. I’ll talk to All Might, and we’ll figure out how to prepare you for all this. Cleaning trash can’t be all you do. He cares about muscle a bit too much, if you ask me.” Tenko, of course, was mostly lean muscle, too, but the way Toshi used One for All had always been so reliant on strength. It didn’t have to be, though, clearly, when looking at Tenko’s grandmother. And Midoriya needed to grow stronger, yes, but it was doubtful that his fighting style would end up anywhere close to All Might’s. Tenko reached out and awkwardly put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Being a hero is about backing each other up, yeah? We’ve got you.”

___

After dropping Midoriya off at home, Tenko wandered the streets, moving in the vague direction of his own apartment. Meeting the kid had been a lot to process. Tenko liked him. He seemed like he’d make a good hero. If he’d make a good Symbol of Peace remained to be seen.

There was no doubt that Midoriya couldn’t be the next All Might. He looked up to him, but he was nothing like him. Maybe that was a good thing. A new generation always promoted change, and while the country would eventually flounder without All Might standing strong to protect it, maybe Midoriya would find his very own way of taking up his mantle.

He certainly had a lot of thoughts in that broccoli-like head of his. Hopefully he’d be able to adjust to the quirk itself alright. Toshinori had his plans for that, but it was a bit of a point of contention between everyone who knew about One for All. Or everyone involved in this situation directly, anyway.

Toshi had refused to contact Gran Torino about it, which Tenko kind of understood, but he was willing to take the first step himself if the old hero’s expertise was needed. Nighteye was another person whose help they could probably use, especially considering that he had a lot in common with what Tenko already knew of Midoriya. If nothing else, they’d be able to strike up a great conversation about limited All Might figurines or something like that. But, once again, Nighteye wasn’t someone Toshi was willing to talk to.

Shouta, of course, insisted that he’d have to get over his personal issues if he wanted to help his successor along to the best of his ability, and Tenko agreed. He just also knew Toshi needed some more time to think things through. And it wasn’t like they were in that much of a hurry.

As long as All Might didn’t get into any big fights and stuck to his time limit, he should be able to uphold his status for another couple years, until Midoriya was finished with high school, at least. That should be doable.

The first thought Tenko had when the window of the store on the other side of the street shattered was ‘oh, please, don’t let this be a sign’.

He broke into a sprint without even a millisecond of hesitation, past the stunned civilians who were just now beginning to turn in the direction of the incident. The shattering of glass had been accompanied by a dull, deep sound, almost like a heavy bass turned up too loud. Tenko had felt it shake his body faintly, even being a little bit further away.

“Call an ambulance!” he shouted over his shoulder at the nearest bystander, who hastily began fumbling with her phone. Tenko left her to it.

He jumped over the broken glass and carefully pushed the door open. There was no screaming or yelling going on, at least, which meant this probably wasn’t a villain. Hopefully.

“Hello?” he called, “I’m a hero! Is anyone injured?”

“Back here!” came the answer, a little delayed, and followed by a cough.

Tenko rounded a shelf that seemed to have had all its contents blown out that were now scattered across the floor, but the shelf itself miraculously still standing – courtesy of construction with both earth quakes and quirks in mind, most likely. The first thing he found on the other side was an older man slumped on the floor and holding his bleeding head. The vest and nametag he was wearing told Tenko that he was staff, and the clear-eyed look of relief told him that the injury wasn’t life-threatening at the very least. There was no use freaking out about head-wounds more than necessary, they always bled a lot.

That wasn’t the main reason for concern, though, and as Tenko took in the scene, his heart sank.

In the middle of all the destruction stood a tiny girl, hands pressed to her ears and shaking her head rapidly as she sobbed. A woman was kneeling in front of her, though a little ways away, seeming hesitant to touch her.

Tenko would estimate the girl to be about four years old, which made her the perfect age for…” “Her quirk,” said the woman, looking up to Tenko with wide eyes, “She just… this is the first time…”

Tenko understood all too well. He reached for the emergency pager he kept in his pocket and pressed the button. If he was very lucky, Eraserhead would be the one to answer his call. But either one of the other two would be great, too, after all, they knew better than Tenko did how to deal with a scared child who couldn’t handle the destructive power of their quirk.

“What are your regular methods of calming her down?” he asked, very carefully moving around the child, not getting too close just in case, and keeping his hands up in a hopefully soothing position. He wished he had his hero costume. Right now, he just looked like some guy with an admittedly not too reassuring looking face, and his habit to wear black on black wasn’t helping. He did put on a small, soft smile though, when the girl’s eyes snapped to him, and while she didn’t stop crying – now interspersed with small hiccups – she also didn’t blow up again, which was Tenko’s main concern.

“I… I just try to take her away somewhere quiet…” the woman who was probably her mother said. She was cradling her arm to her chest, clearly trying not to let on that she was in pain, but Tenko had been trained to recognize that kind of thing.

“Alright, thank you. Are you okay with staying in her line of sight for now?” Getting civilians out of imminent danger was always the first thing that needed to be done, but mothers and children were something else entirely. Tenko didn’t trust that the girl wouldn’t panic even more if her mother left her alone.

“I… yes. Of course.” The woman nodded, face set with determination now.

Tenko glanced around the scene again and took a breath. There were several hero action figures strewn about, most of them broken in some way or another. Some of them were making the noises of messed up voice boxes, repeating the lines that had been recorded for them, or just beeping incessantly.

He pulled off one of his gloves and crouched down, still feeling the girl’s eyes on him as he began to pick up the loud figurines one by one, the cacophony of background noise slowly fading as his quirk worked.

The girl’s crying was subsiding, too. But as Tenko looked up at her, her eyes were glassy and she was trembling slightly. She was going into shock. But she was slowly lowering her hands away from her ears, and that was all Tenko needed.

“Hey,” he said very softly, “It’s okay. Your Mama’s okay, and I’m a hero. I’m here to help, see? I got rid of all the noise.”

The girl sniffled slightly, but nodded.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Her mother seemed to be struggling not to run and wrap her daughter in a hug, but Tenko was glad she wasn’t doing it right now. It had to be incredibly difficult to fight against her own instincts like that.

“I hurt you…” The little girl’s voice was numb, too calm, stating a fact as she stared down at her hands. “I did… I did a bad thing.”

“No, no, I’m fine. I’ll be fine, honey, this wasn’t your fault,” her mother reassured her quickly, speaking a little too fast, hasty in trying to reassure her daughter.

Tenko wasn’t sure that would help. “Would you like to come outside with me?” They would have to take the backdoor to avoid all the onlookers, the gawking crowd that would already be waiting outside. Anything that would set the child off right now would result in even more injuries. Or worse, if they were unlucky.

The girl glanced at his hand, but Tenko put his glove back on and smiled. “See, my quirk doesn’t do anything dangerous when I’m wearing these. We’ll find something like that for yours, too, okay?”

She nodded slowly and reached out a hand, towards him rather than her mother. That was good. She trusted him as a hero to take care of her, even at this age. Having hurt her mother, it made sense she wouldn’t want to touch her right now.

There would be a lot of counselling needed for her to recover from this. But the worst had been averted, and when the girl’s tiny hand slid into Tenko’s, he held fast.

Ten minutes later, Tenko was sipping the free coke the store owner had given to him as a courtesy and watching the ambulance drive away – on board: the little girl, her mother, and a mildly uncomfortable but ever-professional Eraserhead. He’d keep any further quirk accidents from happening, even though everything had calmed down considerably now.

“It’s weird how we’re the kind of people who just attract trouble wherever we go,” Oboro said beside him, leaning his elbow on a cloud, his eyes also fixed on the back of the ambulance. He’d been patrolling with Shouta, and so they’d both come to answer Tenko’s call. And even though Tenko had had everything under control, seeing him show up in his hero uniform had immediately put him at ease. That was what heroes were supposed to do.

“I’m just glad I have a hero license so I can actually do something about the trouble now,” Tenko said. He’d always itched to solve problems, maybe that was part of why he loved video games (and his actual, real life job) so much, and the time before he’d had his hero license had been hell. Growing up surrounded by heroes didn’t help, either. He’d wanted to join them on patrols at six years old already. That was around the time Nemuri had helped him design his first hero costume.

And the thing was, even when Tenko hadn’t been allowed to seek out trouble, trouble had still found its way to him. He wondered if other heroes were like that, too, just people who had been unlucky all their lives and wanted to fight back. Probably not. Tenko just had uniquely bad luck.

Oboro laughed next to him. “Remember the phase when you wanted to become an esports professional?”

Tenko elbowed him in the side. He did not need to be reminded of that. He’d just been an embarrassing teenager and mostly it had been his way of protesting how hard UA classes were. He hadn’t honestly considered it… had he?

“I could still do that,” he pointed out, “Or I could start streaming video games. I bet a ton of people would love to watch.” A lot of his fans appreciated how he’d sometimes start rambling about video games in interviews, after all. Apparently it made him ‘relatable’. Even though he doubted he actually was, once someone got to know him. His best friend was an ever-grumpy burn victim for a reason.

“You could,” Oboro agreed, “I’d be in. We could set you up at the agency and stream together.”

And just like that, Tenko didn’t like the idea anymore. It was really a miracle how fast that could happen. “You know what, I think I’ll stick to private gaming.”

Oboro gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded! You just don’t want to be seen with me on camera!”

Tenko rolled his eyes, trying hard not to smile. “We’re on camera together all the time. I just don’t want to be seen with you on camera where it seems like it was my choice.”

“How can you say that? About your favorite uncle?” Oboro pouted, clearly over exaggerating on purpose, and Tenko finally broke and laughed.

“Sorry to break it to you, but you’re just not cool anymore.”

Oboro crossed his arms, but then immediately lit up again. “So you used to think I was cool at some point?”

Tenko snorted. “Uh, obviously.”

He may have looked up to Shouta because he was badass, as a teenager, but Oboro would always receive a special kind of admiration from him. It was only fair. After all, who knew where Tenko would be without him?

[spice-chan]

Runaway Omega

Katsu’s End .

Bakugo moved toward you in one stride, gulping worriedly as he looked you over.

You breathed out, feeling the pain dull and disappear.

“I’m fine now, but can you two try and not fight for one second ?”

Bakugo looked away and kissed his teeth, glaring at the ground. You hated how you recognized that as him being guilty and acknowledging his wrong.

You turned to Shoto, slightly remorseful at your coming request, but this has to be done in private.

“Sho, could you please let me talk to Bakugo alone?”

Shoto looked between you and Bakugo, his stare hardening as he tried to protest.

“But -“

“Shoto, I have to do this in private please.” You coaxed. He sighed in reluctance, bit gave in and pecked you, staring at Bakugo while he was at it and reveling in his jealousy rolling off in waves.

“Who the fuck is that ?” Bakugo asked. His anger seemed so evident with his clenched jaw and murderous red pools staring at you. He wasn’t shouting, but this was like a volcano, threatening to erupt and destroy everything in it’s wake.

“That’s Sho...my Alpha.” You said.

And erupt it did.

His face starting to show the semblance of his scales as patches of red starting appearing on his skin, his eyes got so black, it was like you were staring Thanatos in the eye.

He stalked towards you, barely able to contain his Alpha, as he urged him to do what he should have done years ago.

He grabbed your chin, tilting your head sideways to bare your neck to him as he leaned down and sniffed it. His growl near your ear was low, yet the barely there sound sent shivers down your spine.

“His stench is all over you.” He growled in distaste. He can smell that bastard all over you, and he was teetering on the edge of giving in to his urges and white, hot anger.

You pulled yourself together, willing yourself not to give in to his charm as you always had, with his tempting caramel scent, daring you to pluck the apple and take a bite. But the sweetness of the forbidden fruit is nothing but ethereal, while sweet, it was never everlasting.

You pushed him away. Stammering out with a flushed face , “ why do you care anyway ? I could have an Alpha, or two if I wish to, lasting time I checked, I wasn’t wanted by you.”

Her biting words brought sadness upon him. He is the reason they are where they are, the reason his Omega had to go through her pregnancy alone, or rather, with that wretched Alpha.

Bakugo cupped the back of your head and brought you into a warm embrace, his arms caging around you.

“Bak-“

“It’s Katsuki ! Always has been and always will be !” He shouted, still keeping you in his caramel and firewood scented embrace.

“I never meant any of it ...God, a few days after I was back at your door, sniffing around for your scent like a starved dog.” He choked at. Your heart clenched at the sight of his tear stained eyes, the vermilion shining like rubies.

“You said what you did Katsuki...I can’t simply believe that you didn’t mean it, there must have been some truth in there.” You explained.

“NO!” He yelled.

He cradled your face in his hands, the face he worshipped for the better part of his life. The one that plagued his dreams, and sometimes even the cruelest of his nightmares.

“I -“ he suddenly got tongue tied, the words he left unspoken when he shouldn’t are at the tip of his tongue. “I love you (y/n), and I’m sorry I didn’t show it, but I’ll be damned if I leave you to some other Alpha, you’re mine, no one can change that.”

It’s not like Bakugo never said the L words to you before, but he kept it at minimum, due to his own biting nature, but also because of the incredibly happy, adorable expression you made every time that made him want to take on the world for. He was a simp for that expression, and he hated weakness. Now all he wanted was to see it again.

Your expression was troubled.

“Katsuki, you said I’m beneath you, so why am I suddenly important to you ? I won’t let you play me like a fiddle and then toss me like I’m worthless when you’re angry.” You said, maintaining your resolve.

Katsuki looked like he was about to protest, when you firmly reminded him.

“Besides, I have an Alpha, who always makes me feel cherished and loved. He’d never tell me I’m beneath him.”

Your words brought a mix of jealousy and self loathing through him. The male gritted his teeth, but even he knew, he had no right to be angry when he said that shit to her.

“Well, you should have talked to me.” He still tried to defend his stance though.

“What was there to say ?”

“Should of said you were leaving, that you didn’t want to be with me, that you were pregnant, fuck, you should have just said something !”

“Bakugo, you made it clear that you didn’t want me to be a part of your life, you don’t need someone distracting you ! You wanted me to leave you the fuck alone, so I did !”

Words that were left unsaid were tumbling out of your mouth, unburdening you with their weight.

“And I didn’t know I was pregnant until I left.”

A silence took over Katsuki, he knew you were right, but he’ll be damned if he lets you go, especially into the arms of another man. He loved you too much, and love was selfish.

He hugged your midsection, where the pup that’s a mixture of the two of you lied. He started purring, the familiar sound stirring up buried feelings.

Your Omega however, still didn’t respond to him.

“Shitty Omega, you think I’m going to let you leave me again ? No, no, no. I can’t let you and our pup leave me, I love you, and I will live our pup too, you just have to see the best in me one more time.”

You turned away, unable to look at his pleading eyes. You didn’t want to betray Shoto like that, but you hates how he pulled at your heartstrings, like a puppeteer, moving the strings how he wishes.

Bakugo refused to leave. He’s stayed, with the excuse of wanting to be there for his pup, which wasn’t entirely an excuse. He always feared how he might be as a father, but he couldn’t hell the joy at imagining a little pul of his own, with you. God, you looked angelic, he could only hope that the pup inherits your looks, so he could always see you in their.

.....

Shoto walked near the ocean, where he first met you, trying to destress.

Wishful thinking.

“SHOTO” a booming voice called out. Shoto looked startled for a second, until that transformed into disdain upon seeing the object of his hatred.

“What are you doing here ?” Shoto asked coldly.

“Shoto, why did you leave ?” Enji asked, not concealing the sorrow in his voice.

“Isn’t it obvious ?”

A silence enveloped them.

Enji swallowed, looking to the ground in remorse, the remorse that Shoto refused to believe his father harbored.

“You left because of me, but please Shoto, you need to come back.” Pleaded Enji.

“And why is that ?”

“Your mother Shoto, she’s very ill, and had been since you left.” Enji confessed, making Shoto’s heart drop.

His ...mother ?

But he got a grip on himself quickly. This could be a foil play to get him back willingly.

Sho scoffed, turning a scornful eye to the esteemed king Enji.

“And I should believe you because ?”

“You don’t have to, but I know you, you will never forgive yourself if your mother dies without seeing you.”

He was right. Shoto loved his mother too much for that.

But Shoto knows, he couldn’t bring you with him on this risky journey. His father might be lying, and he doesn’t want to think about it or imagine it but; he might hurt you.

“I am going to give the throne to either you or one of your brothers, then taking your mother to the West to find a suitable doctor.” Enji said. It was that serious huh ?

Shoto loved you, and could see himself spending the rest of his life with you but, if it puts your life at risk, then Shoto will gladly chose your happiness over his.

You were the companion that eased his loneliness, and he will be forever grateful to you for showing him the light in this darkened world.

.....

“So how did you find me ?” You asked Bakugo as you sat down in the living room with him, eating strawberries.

He smirked at that. If you thought you could hide, you were sourly wrong.

“I sent spies to each village, keeping an eye on any healers that don’t reside in the castle, or anyone that looks like you. You weren’t as discreet as you could have been.” He explained, then added.

“Plus, that women you helped wasn’t secretive, she ratted you out with the promise of money.”

Well damn, that one stung. Is that how she repays you ?

Bakugo took notice of your soured expression.

“That’s why I tell you to be careful, dumbass.” He reprimanded.

“I don’t regret it though, I wasn’t about to let someone die. And a mother at that.” You rebuttled, and he shrugged.

“And thats why you always get in trouble.”

You glared at him, but Bakugo just thought you looked like a kitten trying to growl. He reached out and pinched your cheek.

You were about to swat his hand away, when Shoto walked in the house, walking briskly into the living room.

He walked in, ignoring Bakugo’s growl, and made his way to you.

“Can we talk ?”

At the vague question, you nodded your head.

Bakugo growled to himself even more when he saw the two of you walk inside the bedroom, glaring at the door like it offended his ancestors, then snatching a strawberry and eating it with elongated canines.

.........

“(Y/n), you understand, right ?” Shoto asked worriedly.

You swallowed, then nodded sadly.

“Besides, I can’t be the father the pup deserves, the only father figure I have is potentially a danger to the both of you.”

At that, you nodded more firmly. You were still heart broken, the Alpha you got used to having everyday, the one you were slowly falling for, is leaving. But somehow, you had a feeling you’d be alright. It would be alright.

He had his reasons anyway, you couldn’t think of endangering your pup, and Shoto doesn’t think he is ready to be a father. He said he still loves you, probably always will, but he had a feeling this is for the best.

Shoto kissed you one last time, the sound resounding throughout the room as be deepened it. You could feel many emotions, but the thing you could feel most is the goodbye through the kiss. Maybe that’s why is was so passionate.

You broke it off when the sound of shattering plates echoed.

Shoto rolled his eyes, and gave you a peck and a hug, before walking to the door and stopping.

“(Y/n), do write me letters when you hear good news.” He said, giving you one last heartfelt smile, before turning the doorknob and walking out.

You laid on the bed, with a soured scent as you sighed.

You caressed your belly. Your bundle of joy would surely erase most the pain.

The door opened, and in your peripheral vision, you saw a tuft of blond hair and a scrunched up nose.

“What’s sup, dumbass ?”

Should you tell him ?

He sat down next to you, then took your hand and started purring to calm your nerves. Somehow, it worked.

You turned to him and smiled, reveling in his surprised face, which then erupted in a blush. You allowed yourself a moment of reprieve, and caressed the blush on his cheeks as you used to. The gesture brought butterflies to both parties.

“Well, I was dumped.”

Bakugo growled, ready to stand up and chase after the half n half bastard for several reasons, but he will begin with this.

But you held his arm, preventing him from moving.

“But it’s understandable.” You reasoned.

“But-“

“Katsuki.” You used that final tone that always let him know you were gravely serious.

Before he can attempt to be belligerent again, you halted him with a question.

“Katsuki, do you even want to be a father ? With me no less ?”

The question made a spark of anger go through him. If not you, then who else ?

He glared at you.

“Damn straight dumbass, if not you, then who else ? Don’t think you’re getting out of this.”

This made you laugh, surprising him. The hostility in his expression broke, making him huff and call you a weirdo.

“I can feel the connection between me and them, maybe it’s because a dragon can sense another, or maybe it’s the connection to my pup, but I know for a fact, I love our pup and I couldn’t wish for a better mother.”

The use of collective pronouns made you feel warm inside, like a journey you were set to take with the most joy filled of companions.

And in a few days time, you held Katsuki’s hand as your pup made it’s way to the world.

Katsuki walked in, his eyes drinking the sight of the pup in your arms with awe, it’s like he was falling all over again.

He walked in and sat beside you as you cooed at the little bundle of joy, a tony baby girl, with flaming red eyes that glistened like the finest rubies, and little tufts of (h/c) hair, the hair he always adored and wanted for his kids. You looked at him with a bright smile, one he wouldn’t trade for the world, and beckoned him closer.

Bakugo held the baby girl in his arms, unable to keep the bubble of affection that sprouted in his heart, and gushed out of his eyes as his love overfilled. He gave her a peck on the forehead, then another just to memorise the soft texture of her skin before she grows up before his eyes.

He then walked to the empty space on the bed, then climbed up and put the pup next to you, careful about moving you lest he elicit pain from the procedure you just underwent.

He went to climb out, but paused when his pup held his finger in her hand, toying with it as she swung it left and right in her tiny arms. He couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face as he gazed at her tiny face curiously toying with his finger.

“Aw, she’s so perfect, isn’t she Katsuki ?” You gushed, purring at you baby girl as you caressed her head. Her eyes traveled up to your own hand, then her other hand went and grasped your own finger. She did the same to you as she did Katsuki, then with both of her occupied hands, she brought them together, making your finger touch Katsuki’s own larger one.

You gazed at her mindless actions with awe, both of you unable to take your fingers out of her toying hands and risk losing the contact. Her actions held so much meaning, like she was trying to communicate something despite you knowing it’s not true. Katsuki had a similar thought process. He decided to stop being a pussy and act like the Alpha he is.

“Well, if that’s what the pup wants, I guess you have no choice now.” He said. You looked back at the girl with love, then to Katsuki, and shrugged.

“Guess I have no choice, you’re lucky our baby girl decided to be your wing man.”

Giving Katsuki a chance to prove himself again seemed like the right choice.

Katsuki came closer to you, making you close your eyes as your lips joined in a familiar dance.

The little pup watched her parents curiously, her doe eyes staring at them in obliviousness as she resumed toying with their fingers.

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

And thats it, the end. I decided to publish this on here on a whim, so here we are, tho im gonna get to working on a masterlist in a bit. If you enjoyed this mini series and wish to buy me a coffee, my kofi is T_Spice.

[mermaidsneedwater]

second chances | chapter four

series page

warnings: mentions of death/loss

The Drunk Dancing

“So, what’s your story?”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Everyone has a story… What’s yours?” Yugyeom shrugged casually.

As you walked together on the street, you watched couples passing by. You wondered if Chaeyoung and Bambam were acting like that as well, if they were then all this would’ve been worth it. You then wondered where you were headed, Yugyeom still hadn’t told you exactly where you were going.

“You first. It’s probably more interesting than mine.” You said walking by his side, you were unsure if you were actually willing to share with him.

“Okay…” Yugyeom said, shoving his hands in his pockets “Let's see, I’m twenty-five, a decent dancer but a terribly unpunctual person. I have a dog named Dalkyum, and I’m probably my family’s greatest disappointment.”

“Woah, hold on” You stopped him. “What do you mean you’re a disappointment? You were just signed to the best dance company in the city!”

“Parents wanted me to do something practical with my college degree, become a doctor or a lawyer, something stuffy like that. When they came to my graduation and realized I majored in Dance… well let’s just say that they weren’t too thrilled. I haven’t spoken to them since then.”

Blinking, you took in his explanation, “Well, yeah. But you also deceived them.” You pointed out. “Maybe you should’ve been honest with them from the beginning and set their expectations accordingly.”

Yugyeom registered your words, a bit taken aback. No one had ever pointed that out to him. “They wouldn’t have understood.”

“How do you know? You never gave them a chance.” You pressed. “I think you should invite them to your performance.”

“Maybe.” Yugyeom said shortly. “Anyway, that’s me in a few words. What about you?”

Letting out a shaky breath, you finally answered his question, “Well, I’m a twenty-five year old widow, working as a pathetic assistant for the bitchiest woman in the city.”

Yugyeom stopped in his tracks. “Wait, widow? As in–”

“I got married right out of college.” You confirmed.

“Do you mind me asking what happened?” Yugyeom said slowly appearing in front of you, his eyebrows knit.

“Car accident.” You said. “He died on the way to the hospital.”

Yugyeom watched as you recounted the story, instinctively placing a hand on your arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Moving your arm, you shrugged “That’s life I guess. The anniversary of his death was last Friday, it’s been three years.”

You watched as the pieces of the puzzle finally connected in Yugyeom’s mind. That's why you were so offended when he’d leaned in to kiss you, why you were so reluctant to come out, and why you often seemed lost in your own world.

He gave you a soft smile before changing the subject, “So who’s the bitchiest woman in the city?”

+++

“You need to get out right now!” You whispered nervously.

“Relax baby,” Jaebeom said with ease. “No one is coming.”

“They do random inspections all the time!” You insisted. “Oh crap, if they do a fire drill we’re screwed. I’m going to lose my scholarship, and over what? A boy!”

“What do you think is worse, the fact that you brought your boyfriend to your women only dorm or the fact that said boyfriend is a senior from SNU, your rival school?” Jaebeom pondered aloud.

“You need to leave through the window.” You continued spiraling, “I can hear footsteps.”

Sitting up at the mention of the window, Jaebeom frowned, “You’re not serious right? I could fall!”

A knock on the door had both your eyes widened.

“Go!” You pushed him off your bed and towards the window.

“Okay, you look like you need another drink.” Yugyeom said.

He signaled the bartender to make you another drink as you were shaken out of your recollection. “I can’t drink anymore, I’ll have a bad hangover tomorrow.”

“What! You barely had anything. We need to build your tolerance up.” Yugyeom insisted. He studied your face for a moment before saying, “You don’t really get out much do you?”

“I guess you could say that…” you agreed.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m not really ever in the mood these days.” Correction, you hadn’t been in the mood to go out for the past three years. Feeling a sadness settling in, you switched the topic, “So what do you think Bambam and Chaeyoung are doing?”

“Probably screwing in the bathroom of the club,” Yugyeom said nonchalantly.

You scrunched your nose in disgust and rolled your eyes, “Is that really all you think about?”

“Yeah pretty much.” Yugyeom said, sipping his drink. “It’s not just me though, it’s all guys. I’d say it easily occupies 90% of our brain capacity.”

“Well that’s reassuring.” You said. You sipped your drink, taking in the strong alcohol flavor and coughing. “Jesus, this is literally all vodka.”

“Cheers, drink up.” Yugyeom held his glass, clinking it against yours and then downing the glass. As you both drank, you were startled by Yugyeom’s loud shouting.

“Hey! It’s my song!” He cheered.

You paused to listen to what he was talking about, recognizing the song as Chris Brown’s ‘Take You Down’.

“Of course this is your song.” You muttered.

“We have to dance, come on!” Yugyeom grabbed your hand faster than you could refuse.

It was odd really, the room was quiet and barely had any people in it. You and Yugyeom stood in the center of the bar, creating a makeshift dance floor. A few people in the bar looked on as Yugyeom danced alone to the song.

“Everyone’s watching us.” You told him nervously.

“Okay, if you can notice that, you’re not drunk enough,” Yugyeom paused from his awkward swaying. “We’re doing shots and then dancing.”

From the floor he signaled for six shots and brought you to the bar. The bartender prepared them and left them for you two drink. Wincing, you looked at the shots and then Yugyeom. Noticing your hesitation, he grabbed your hand and made you hold the shot. He then motioned for you to drink and swallowed the shot himself. The two of you repeated the action with the second shot, and then the third.

Banging his hands on the bar, Yugyeom hollered loudly. “Whoo! Dancing time!”

Feeling woozy yourself, you didn’t fight him when he led you to the center of the bar. As the song blared through the crappy bar speakers, you laughed as Yugyeom started swaying and grinding in a vaguely sexual manner. Feeling the beat, you swayed side to side, unsure of what to do.

Yugyeom danced on, but you couldn’t help but giggle like a schoolgirl. At this point his dance moves left nothing to your imagination, as he air humped the floor, you held your stomach as it hurt too much from your reaction. The feeling felt so foreign, you couldn’t recall the last time anyone beside Jaebeom had made you laugh so hard.

As he returned to stand, Yugyeom watched you laughing at him, a large grin appearing on his own face as well.

+++

You walked slowly into your office, hoping not to make any noise. Tip-toeing to your desk, you’d almost made it before you heard a voice yelling.

“Y/N, get in here right now!”

Groaning, you quit your attempt to be quiet and opened the door to Susie’s office.

“Hi Susie.” You said, offering a smile.

“Don’t you ‘hi Susie’ me young lady. You’re late.” She said, not looking up from her papers. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fire you right now.”

“Because I’ve worked for you for about a year and a half and this is the first time I’ve been late.” You reminded her.

Blinking, Susie glanced at you before setting her pile down. She looked up to the ceiling, most likely trying to verify if your statement was true. Finally realizing that it was, she spoke. “Huh, I guess that’s right. You better not make this a regular occurrence.”

“Understood.” You nodded. “I should get back to my desk.”

As you walked back, you heard the phone on your desk ring. Speed walking to catch it, you answered, “Icon magazine, Susie Park’s assistant, how can I help you?”

“My tolerance for alcohol has severely diminished.” The voice spoke. “I’m disappointed in myself.”

Your eyes widened at the voice, “Yugyeom?” You whispered, hoping Susie wouldn’t realize that this was now a personal call.

“I’m thinking that the next time we go out, we just go all out and get blackout drunk.” He continued.

“How did you get this number?” You asked, “Don’t you have a job or something you should be at now?”

“Hey, I don’t go into the studio until 11 am.” He defended. “And don’t call me a creep, but I looked it up.”

“You’re such a creep.” You whispered. “You could’ve texted!”

“Well, actually I couldn’t because I don’t have your number.”

“Oh.” You said. “I have to go but I’ll give it to you the next time I see you.”

“Wait, Y/N don’t hang-”

You placed the phone back on the receiver, shaking your head and laughing to yourself.

“What’s got you giggling like that?” Chaeyoung asked as she approached your desk, careful to avoid Susie’s line of vision.

“Nothing.” You said quickly.

“Well clearly it wasn’t nothing. I can’t remember the last time I saw you blush like that.” Chaeyoung pressed. “Was it a guy?”

“No! And I’m not blushing!” You denied fervently. “Anyway, how was your night with Bambam?”

Now it was Chaeyoung’s turn to blush, she glanced down “It was really nice, we’re going to see each other again on Friday.”

Your eyes widened as your mouth dropped. “Really? That’s great! I’m so happy for you Chae.”

“Thanks Y/N, honestly I can’t believe it myself.” She beamed.

“Less talking, more working!” Susie called from her office.

“Talk later?” You offered.

Nodding her head vigorously, Chaeyoung retreated to her work space.

As she left, you found yourself thinking about Yugyeom, you wondered what he was doing now. Snapping out of your ridiculous thought, you returned to your computer, desperate to distract yourself from him.

chapter three | chapter five