#since. they Recognize him. just a tiny bit. flashes of dark and weird and fear. still chaos gremlin tho)

[blaiddraws]

Wait. hold on an entire second. I. I need to know more about the GiraIngo AU. I. How does the clans react to him? How does the Galaxy team react? HIW DOES VOLO REACT?? AND! the protagonist! Do they try and capture him? Do they become friends? I’m. Thinking about this so hard now.

(referring to this)

it's been a hot minute since I've thought about it so this is mostly off the top of my head. But.

okay so. a random new never before seen pokemon just suddenly shows up in hisui, wandering around. weirdly friendly and non-aggressive. and surprisingly genuine even if it can't speak like a human.

the clans! since he ends up getting basically adopted by sneasler first. and introduced to the clans through the noble Pokemon (she proudly flaunts her new worm son to all her besties) they're immediately. like. not necessarily completely TRUSTING of him but they can tell he's not a bad thing, or there to hurt anyone.

so they almost treat him like a,, lesser noble, i suppose? they respect him but they don't have that same. uhhhh devotion? no. reverence? for him that they do the Actual noble/ride pokemon, who are descended from Pokemon with the Almighty Sinnoh's blessing (little do they know he's literally like. a mini deity. but hey. details)

they eventually get used to him.

Galaxy team! i guess sorta the same way they'd treat the nobles, since they learn of him thru the clans. not much to say there

VOLO. haha. volo is. SO incredibly confused. so is the giratina of This Point In Time. both of them have no idea where this mini shiny giratina came from. normal giratina is kinda put off by him because it. it has NO idea. and it doesn't like that. volo is also put off by him but less so, and mostly because giratina is. so volo ends up trying to just. avoid him

unfortunately giraingo can subconsciously sense giratina's presence on and around volo so is just sorta. drawn to him. doesn't know Why but he just thinks that funky merchant guy is neat

protagonist! there's many ways we could go with this. dawn/lucas from the Future? do they Remember the future? or perhaps someone unrelated to dawn/lucas at all (and therefore don't know or have personal experience with giratina)??

i think if we did a dawn/lucas from the future who Does Remember. it'd. kdhdkshsjd. they're the player character therefore i WILL shove my love and adoration for The Worm into them. weird little chaos gremlin from modern times. pokemon can do no wrong even giratina.

so. they come across this mini shiny giratina and absolutely lose it.

introduced to them as the lesser lord of [whatever]. since the clans don't know what a giratina is. so it never occurs to them to try and catch him. but BOY howdy they're obsessed with that little guy.

so. yeah. become friends through sheer force of will. ingo does not have a choice in this. (not that he would have chosen otherwise. he's desperate for human contact where they actually treat him normally instead of with way too much fear or respect. and also SOMEONE has to stop this kid from diving into spacetime distortions without hesitation, or trying to fight and catch All the alphas. etc.)

[luna-writes-stuff]

Hey! I hope you're having a good dayyy

I saw ur requests are open and since ur lookin for sum,, can i request a thorin x reader fic (if ur still accepting hehe) where the story is similar to the ending part of the movie Artificial Intelligence (idk if you've watched that but ye the ending goes like this:

The boy (main character) wished to be with his mother again one last time, if only for a day :(( And so the aliens granted him this wish bbbut the mom didn't know she was already dead like after the sciency stuff, she woke up just like it was an ordinary day, and when the 24 hrs was up, she went back to sleep not knowing that that was the last time they'll be together :<<

So I was thinking maybe botfa?, either the reader or thorin died and then ^^^ anywayyy the magic is up to you ✨

I hope ur cool with dat,, if not that's perfectly fineee HAHA

One last day, Thorin Oakenshield

Just reading this request left me suffering. I hope I did your idea justice,,,,

anyways;

Headcanons, genderneutral pronouns

Tw: Pain. Lots of pain. Angst. Pain. Flashbacks to botfa. Pain.

- Thorin’s death had been the most difficult on you. You were left alone to rule a kingdom you didn’t have any experience with. Balin had helped you immensely, yet with every step you took, you felt as if you only worsened the kingdom.

- During the Battle of the Five Armies, you had been fighting on the other side of the planes, separated from your One. By the time you reached him, he had already left this world. You hadn’t even gotten a proper chance to say goodbye.

- And that thought had haunted you ever since that horrible day. Everyone had watched you dwelling, trying to guide others while you were unable to guide yourself.

- And then Gandalf finally decided that enough was enough. He had offered to help you say goodbye. If it would bring you closure, he’d do it for you. His terms were simple: he would bring Thorin back for one day, no more, no less.

- And you agreed, for obvious reasons. Perhaps a opportunity to say farewell would help you progress his death better. You had spent the entire evening thinking about what to tell him and what to do. You had been thinking non stop, until sleep finally caught up with you.

- The next morning, you (surprisingly) hadn’t woken up to the bright sun shining through your windows. It wasn’t the laughter and talking in the halls. It hadn’t been Balin knocking at your door. It had been snoring that woke you up. For weeks you had gone to sleep on your own, with nothing but darkness and silence surrounding you. But now, a snoring was heard. One that hadn’t been there the night before.

- You carefully turned around, but stopped halfway, noticing an arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Your eyes quickly followed the trail of arms to hands, trying to understand exactly what was happening. The excitement of yesterday had washed your sense of reality within a matter of hours.

- Your breath had caught in your throat upon recognizing the hands. The rings it held, the small hairs resting on top of it, the way the fingers were shaped, but more importantly, the way they held you, the thumb resting gently as the rest of the hand held onto you. It had indeed been Thorin. Your Thorin.

- Tears had already started gathering in your eyes, harsh reality settling in. This was only for one day, but he was back. He was alive. Back with you.

- As the tears blurrier your vision, the quietest sniffle escaped your throat. Suddenly, the snoring beside you had stopped, an annoyed yet confused moan following it.

- You tried your best to get a hold of your emotions, but it was difficult when a scientifically dead person lay right next to you, as alive as you had been.

- “Amrâlîme,” he softly uttered, his voice deeper than usual, laced with sleep and confusion. Only hearing his voice again made another sob escape you, “are you alright?”

- His arm turned you around, now coming face to face with him. His hair was up in his usual braids, yet it was a bit tousled. He had his normal sleep attire on. Everything appeared as if it had been a normal morning. No injuries or blood covered his face and his eyes held life, instead of the horrifying look they had held when you saw him last time.

- Yet, as life had been shining from them, so was confusion and worry. His earlier question finally reached you and for once, you had no idea how to respond. What would you have to tell him. Would you give him the cold hard truth or enjoy your day of pretentiousness?

- “Just a bad nightmare.” You answered, trying to wipe your tears away. With no words left spoken, Thorin dragged you into his chest, your head resting on top of his heart. His beating heart. The sound of it alone, resurfaced a new pair of tears, your hands clinging onto his shirt tightly, holding him for a while, not ready to let go yet.

- Thorin had no idea what was happening or what had happened. In his eyes, you indeed just had a terrible nightmare and needed his comfort now more than ever. No nightmare has ever left you this shaken up, but he wasn’t there to ask you about it or to judge you about. He was content just laying next to you.

- The entire morning was just spent in bed, not even speaking that much, just holding onto each other, softly dozing off again, happy to be engulfed in his warmth and smell again.

- When finally deciding to get up, Thorin had been quick to grab you close to him, already busying himself with braiding your hair. The feeling had grown foreign to you, yet so nostalgic.

- As it became your turn to braid Thorin’s hair, you made sure you did your absolute best. Making them look perfect on your definite last day with him. You tried not thinking about it too long, knowing Thorin would grow concerned, and that was not how you wanted to spend your last day with him.

- When walking along the empty halls of Erebor, you held onto his arm, walking with him as if you were seeing the halls for the first time. He would tell you stories about the portraits or the stone that was being carved before Smaug took over. He would tell you about his heritage as he had done a thousand times before when in the Hall of the Kings. And you’d listen to it all. Occasionally offering a short question or a well appreciated comment.

- You had taken the opportunity to ask him about ruling and how to best approach certain situations, making sure to remember him after he’d be gone again. That way, there would still be a bit of him in control of the mountain.

- But the day had quickly run by, leaving you with only a few hours. You tried to make him stay awake all night, but Thorin was always looking forward to sleep. It had been there ever since the day the two of you met. His favorite time of the day had always been night, so he could let his worries fade away as sleep took him over, you content in his arms.

- And then you decided to finally ask that lingering question. Without thinking about it too long, you just asked him straight forward; “Thorin, I have a bit of a weird question to ask you.” You began. Immediately; his attention was on you, holding onto your hands gently.

- “Would all of this make it possible for you to die a happy dwarf?” A bewildered look flashed across his face, clearly taken aback by the question. “What makes you ask me that?”

- Now you had been driven in a corner. You had no idea how to respond. Should you be honest with him? Did you really have choice?

- Yet, a quick lie suddenly came to your rescue. “Just the nightmare I had tonight.” You explained, rubbing your thumbs over his hands. With that answer, Thorin smiled at you, one of his hands cupping your face, his figure stepping even closer to you.

- “With you by my side, I’d die anywhere a happy dwarf.” He commented sincerely.

- “You truly mean that?” You had questioned, not knowing if he had been just trying to soothe you or actually speaking the truth. But then yet again, Thorin had never been one for lying.

- “With all my heart, Amrâlîme. Truly.” And with that, he put a soft, yet lingering kiss on your lips, making you wish you could stay like that forever. You had believed him the moment he had uttered these words.

- “Now, I’m exhausted. We should go to sleep. It’s been a long day.” The dwarf concluded, toying with the end of your braids before dropping them. You mustered a tiny smile his way before climbing into bed.

- In a matter of moments, Thorin had been beside you, his arm around you like it had been this morning. You snuggled into his chest, playing with the rings around his fingers as his breath softly tickled your neck. Only now, your tears resurfaced.

- He hadn’t feared dying. Not as long as you had been with him. And you had been. For nearly all your life. You placed a small kiss on his hand. It was your small way of saying goodbye and thank you, but he didn’t know. For him, it had been a small sign of saying “I love you.”

- “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kurdel. Sleep well.” Thorin mumbled, placing his lips on your lips, a regular goodnight kiss he’d give you. But it wouldn’t suffice this day.

- You turned around, wrapping your arms around him as you kissed his lips in response.

- “I love you, Thorin. You do know that, right?” You mumbled against his lips, nearly touching them.

- “Of course I do. Men lananubukhs menu, ghisvashel.” He whispered back, kissing you once more.

- When you were finally happy with your goodbye, you laid your head on his chest, satisfied to hear it beating for a moment. The soft tapping of it lured you to sleep after a while. Thorin followed you shortly after it, always falling asleep only after you had. He was holding onto your hands, a proud smile on his face.

- And that’s how he left again. Happy, with you in his arms, knowing he had reclaimed his homeland.

- Upon waking up the next morning, you hadn’t even been that sad anymore. You knew Thorin died a satisfied man, and it was enough to bring you the comfort you needed. And finally, after a long few months, you felt confident enough to take the mountain into strong hands, ruling it as he would have. The braids he had made the morning earlier were still freshly in your hair, somehow seemingly untouched. And you left it like that, happy to care the smallest bit of him around with you.

[farrawayfromthere]

Let’s Not Let A Year Pass By This Time

Pairing: Jordan Todd/Emily Prentiss

Word Count: 2k

Summary: After the family annihilator case that had been the last straw for Jordan at the BAU, they don’t see each other for a year.

A/N: for Day 4 of CM Fanfiction Week (Underrated character/pairing); tagging @simmonsmilf and @starry-eyed-spence (gif credit to @j3mily)

Jordan’s in line at a coffee shop in DC, eyeing a chocolate chip muffin in the display case with her name on it.

She fidgets with the zipper on her wallet then wonders with a small sigh if she’d be better off ordering an egg sandwich for the protein.

Today, her team’ll be flying up to a small city in New Hampshire who’s two post offices have both received bomb threats in the last couple days. She knows she’ll be interviewing postal workers all day; she’s gonna need the energy.

“Jordan? Agent Todd? Is that you?”

It’s a voice she hasn’t heard in what feels like a lifetime.

Jordan looks over her shoulder and finds herself face to face with a woman she hasn’t seen in over a year, just a couple customers behind her.

Emily’s face splits into that same huge, brilliant smile Jordan remembers.

“It is you! My god!”

She looks.... really good.

“Agent Prentiss,” Jordan says, eyes growing wide, mouth dropping open slightly.

Emily’s grown her bangs out, pushed them to the sides.

Her dark, dark brown hair falls smoothly, elegantly just past her shoulders.

She’s wearing a black pantsuit, well-tailored. A black, silky looking blouse underneath and black, thick heeled boots that make her feel even taller than Jordan remembers.

She looks, really, really good.

The guy behind her clears his throat and Jordan realizes the line has moved along.

She gestures for him and the lady behind him to go ahead, and reaches for Emily’s sleeve.

“It’s great to see you,” Emily says.

Jordan’s laugh is a disbelieving exhale.

The other woman extends a hand to shake and Jordan feels a strange, subtle swoop in her stomach when their palms press against one another’s.

Emily’s is still cool; Jordan’s, still warm.

Jordan wonders if Emily’s one of those people who always feels cold, just like she’s one of those people who always feels warm.

Suddenly, all the turtlenecks and sweaters she’d seen her wear around the BAU make a little more sense.

Emily’s hand squeezes hers back, and Jordan blinks up at her.

Emily’s eyes are bright, and even through their automatic, habitual coolness, suddenly, a little shy.

“Um, hi,” Jordan says, the words a little breathless.

“Long time no see,” Emily says.

“You’re telling me.”

Emily blinks and gives her a rueful little half-grin.

“I never called.”

“Well, I didn’t either,” Jordan says, keeping humor in her voice, “I meant to, in that first month, but—.”

“We just got so busy after you left. I didn’t realize how much time was passing, I’m so sorry,” Emily says.

They’d told each other they would stay in touch, but the days and weeks and months had just—slipped by.

By the time Jordan realized that an unacceptable amount of time had passed and she’d yet to make good on her promise to grab lunch or dinner with the older agent, the mere idea of picking up the phone and dialing her number made Jordan feel antsy with unease.

It would’ve been too weird; too awkward.

“It’s okay,” Jordan says, “Neither did I.”

Emily blows air out of her cheeks, expression full of relief.

“So we’re good?”

“Yeah, Prentiss. We’re good.”

She allows herself to take in Emily’s new hair for a moment.

She gestures lazily at it with her index finger.

“I gotta say. I like the no bangs look on you. Very elegant. Very mysterious FBI woman.”

Twin patches of pink appear high in her cheeks.

“Thanks.”

Jordan smiles.

“You still look like you could kill a man with one stomp of those boots though.”

A grin breaks through Emily’s blush.

“Oh, so they’re giving off the energy I’d hoped they would when I bought them?”

“If the energy you had in mind was ‘don’t mess with me’, then yeah, I’d say so.”

“Next,” the young man at the cashier calls.

Jordan winks at Emily, then steps forward to order her sandwich and coffee. She’s surprised when she finishes and the cashier looks over her shoulder to speak to Emily.

Quickly and efficiently, the taller woman orders herself a medium coffee and an old-fashioned donut from the display case. She pays for both of their orders without a moment’s hesitation, before Jordan can even open her mouth to protest.

“Thanks,” Emily tells the cashier, while Jordan, stomach swirling with a deep warmth that’s startling in its suddenness, places a couple bills in the tip jar.

They sit at a small table for two by the window.

When Jordan looks up from skim milk and raw sugar into her coffee, Emily’s eyes are already cautiously on her.

“So how have you been,” the taller woman asks.

“Uh, good,” Jordan says, then after a moment, ”I’m where I belong.”

“I’m glad,” Emily says, grinning as she mixed cream and a Splenda into her own coffee, “You didn’t seem to like working at the BAU very much.”

“I didn’t,” Jordan says honestly, “But some parts of the experience were better than others. Plus, JJ and I have been friends since our time at the Academy so....”

Emily pushes her hair behind her shoulders, revealing small silver disk shaped earrings that glimmer as she takes a sip of her coffee.

Jordan hesitates just a moment before saying it.

“I’ve gotta say: You look good, Emily.”

Emily’s eyes twinkle; a pleased smile spreads across her face, so genuine that Jordan realizes, for the first time, that Emily Prentiss has a perfect pair of tiny dimples.

Her eyes take in Jordan’s pristine navy blazer, her well styled ponytail. They linger briefly on her mouth, today a deep plum.

“Well, you look better.”

Jordan almost spits out her first sip of coffee; She’s acutely aware that her cheeks have just gone very hot.

Emily‘s smile is a bit too smug for Jordan’s liking. She rolls her eyes.

“I know I do.”

“Oh, really,” Emily exclaims with a grin.

Jordan looks down at her egg sandwich for a moment, appetite suddenly non-existent.

The fluttering in her stomach, the smell of Emily’s perfume is making it hard to think.

She smiles a small, tentative smile.

“How’s life?”

Emily takes a sip from her coffee.

“You know. Chasing down serial killers most days of the week, coming home, watching re-runs of The Sopranos, passing out. Rinse... and repeat.”

Jordan tilts her head.

“No special someone or someones’ to keep things interesting?”

Emily meets her eyes.

“Well I don’t know about special.... Distractions? Sure... but... uh... nobody I care very much about, and definitely nobody who cares very much about me. What about you?”

Jordan snorts.

“I don’t know about special,” she says, repeating Emily’s earlier words before half-smiling and shaking her head, “No. Nobody.”

“That’s good.”

Jordan raises a brow.

Emily winces at herself.

“I mean.... hey, that’s... it’s tough out here?”

Jordan laughs, the sound loud and genuine.

Emily hums, taking a sip of her coffee.

“How’s JJ,” Jordan asks, “The rest of the team?”

Emily sets her coffee down and smiles a soft smile.

“Good. She’s good. We all are,” Emily says, then after a pause, “She loves Will and Henry very much. I think they’re what keep her going now... but... I also think they make everything much harder than it used to be for her. She sees them in every case, and it scares her so much, even though she’ll never admit it.”

Jordan nods, understanding.

“I bet it helps though,” she muses, “To have someone to come home to. People to hold you at the end of those long-ass days you all have over at the BAU.”

Emily’s smile grows more faint.

“I wouldn’t know,” she says quietly.

“Well,” Jordan says, just as quiet, “Neither would I. But that’s what I imagine.”

“Yeah, well... it didn’t work out very well for Hotch,” Emily says.

Jordan fixes her gaze on her coffee.

She’d been overseas during Haley Hotchner’s funeral; she’d wondered how her murder had affected the team at the BAU, how it had affected Emily.

They all already had trust issues... she wondered just how much more they all feared intimacy now....

Emily seems to return to her senses, eyes darting up to meet Jordan’s and startling a little when she recognizes the compassion Jordan can’t help but feel for her.

Emily had been the best part of her time at the BAU.

And okay, maybe Jordan had developed a little, truly tiny, irrelevant crush on her in that time, and maybe.... maybe it had been a little devastating that they’d never gotten in touch again after she’d left the BAU—

Regardless, Jordan wants the woman sitting across from her to be happy.

She smiles faintly at her, then her eyes catch sight of the clock hanging over the cafe’s entrance and she starts.

“Shit,” she says, standing up, “I’m gonna be late.”

Emily looks up at her, for a second panicked, then she’s scrambling in her bag for something.

“Uh—please wait.”

She pulls out a pen and takes the cafe receipt Jordan’s crumbled up and forgotten on the table.

“We’ve gotta catch up properly, Agent Todd,” she says, scribbling her number on the back of it, “New number.”

Jordan tugs her phone from her purse.

“Just read it out to me, I’ll add you in right now,” she says.

Emily does.

Jordan smiles at it, then hesitates.

“Can I snap a quick photo of you for your contact? I‘m actively working with four women named Emily on three different continents.”

Emily’s eyes flash with a hint of something Jordan can’t decipher, then she nods.

“Sure—uh—how do I look? You’re gonna have to deal with this picture of me forever.”

“You know you look good,” Jordan says, holding up the phone, “But I’ll allow you one retake if you don’t like it.”

“Just one?”

“Just one.”

Emily straightens her back. She gives a small, close mouthed smile for the picture, dark eyes looking deeply into the camera.

“One... two... okay, got it.”

Jordan shows the picture to her and Emily grimaces.

“Ugh.”

Jordan scoffs.

“Oh, come on. You look like an English rose or whatever. It’s a good picture.”

“An English rose,” Emily repeats, laughing.

Jordan glances down at her still open camera and, lips quirking, snaps another photo.

This time, she catches Emily, eyebrows drawn up in amusement, grinning. She’s looking warmly out at Jordan over the lens of the camera rather than looking into it head on.

“Oh, I’m keeping this one.”

“What? Hey. Wait, let me see.”

Jordan shows her and Emily groans.

“No.... no, no, no.”

“Too bad it’s your one retake, huh?”

“But I didn’t even know you were taking it!”

“My phone, my rules,” Jordan says, putting her phone away and looking down at her with a grin, “I guess I’ll talk to ya later.”

Emily’s still grumbling under her breath.

Jordan lets a hand fall on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before making for the doors.

“Hey Jordan,” she hears behind her.

And Jordan remembers in that moment that she likes the sound of her first name in Emily’s mouth.

She looks over her shoulder.

“Let’s not let a year pass by this time, alright,” Emily calls.

Jordan laughs, “Let’s make it two!”

“Please don’t,” Emily calls back.

“Or three!”

On the train, she tugs out her phone again, smiling a little at Emily’s contact photo.

She dials her number and Emily picks up on the second ring.

“Well this is nice. You gave me your real number,” Jordan says.

Emily snorts.

“I see you have a very high opinion of me.”

Jordan hesitates.

“Well, I’ll be honest... I don’t know you very well. All I know....”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a gentle whoosh.

“All I know was that you were the only thing that made my time at the BAU bearable, Emily. You stood up for me when nobody else did. You cared enough to check up on me when I was having a bad day. Even when I just acted like a jerk in return. And I’ll never forget that.“

She stops to let the honesty of her words hang in the air, then:

“I honestly was a little bummed out that we never hung out outside of work like we said we would.”

Emily seems stunned into silence by Jordan’s honesty.

Jordan doesn’t care.

She’s happy she’s said it.

Happy Emily knows that she brought good into someone’s life, at least for a little while.

“I don’t know what to say,” Emily murmurs.

“You’re one of those people who can’t handle intense sincerity, huh,” Jordan jokes.

Silence again; she must be walking.

Jordan can hear the click of her thick heels even over the phone.

“Not on a daily basis, no,” Emily says at last, but there’s a happy edge to her voice, “Confession from me?”

“Go for it.”

“It bummed me out a little too, that we never got together like we’d planned. You were excellent company, Jordan Todd. And I... I guess I didn’t realize until now how much I’ve really missed you.”

Jordan finds herself smiling.

“Sap.”

Emily laughs and Jordan chuckles in response.

For a second there’s silence on the line, then:

“Let’s get lunch this week,” Emily says, “Someplace good.”

Jordan bites the inside of her lower lip, trying to fight her own smile, knowing it’s a fight she’s going to be having with herself all day.

She knows today will be the day she’ll be called out for asking about bomb threat details with a glimmer of a smile on her face.

She doesn’t care.

“How do you feel about sushi?”

“Name the place and I’m there.”

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 14: The Ball

A Loki fanfiction!

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*** This chapter has recommended listening:

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It was a day before the ball and you sat in the Great Hall with Pom, Mo, and Valkyrie eating breakfast. A smattering of eggs, bacon, stuffed sausage, hash browns, and toast laid in front of you. You took a small piece of toast and buttered it lightly. Another yawn escaped your lips and blinked several times, trying to shake the feeling of tiny rocks rubbing on your eyeballs.

“How was Hogsmeade?” Mo said dejectedly. His parents had sent him quite the howler after the events in the Forbidden Forest. They banned him from all outdoor excursions and he had to stay in the school for the rest of the year.

Valkyrie shrugged. “It was alright, we just tried on some dresses, and I may or may not have seen Nila naked,” she said, smiling at you and Pom.

Mo raised his head with wide eyes. “You did not.”

Just then, Nila came by and sat down beside Mo. “Hey!” she said, leaning over Mo and grabbing a piece of bacon. Mo was stock still and flushed.

You giggled with Valkyrie. “Morning, Nila.”

Valkyrie raised a brow. “So, do we all have dates?”

You blushed, thinking about Nathan Gill, but more so thinking about Professor Laufeyson’s instructions.

You will go to the ball with this boy,

You will dance with him, have a drink, and do what young girls do at balls.

You gulped, thinking about the last thing he said.

And at the end of the night, you will come to my room, and I will punish you for all of it.

“Y-yes,” you said. Then Pom meekly said “yes” with a small blush. You looked at her, surprised that she had mentioned nothing. Then the three of you looked at Mo and Nila, who looked away from each other uncomfortably.

Nila spoke, a little miffed, “I was asked by Thomas, Jury, Mirwich, and Ali.”

You raised your brows, “wow, that’s great, Nila!”

Mo’s expression darkened, and he turned away further as Nila continued talking. “But I said no.”

She slowly turned towards Mo and looked at him. He looked back, trying to conceal a smile. “And what were you waiting for?” he said.

Valkyrie looked at you and rolled her eyes. You could tell she was itching to interrupt them with some blunt statement like, “just fuck already!”, but you hit her thigh under the table to shut her up.

“I was waiting for this stupid boy to ask me, but he hasn’t seemed to get a clue yet,” Nila said, curling a lock of hair on her finger.

There were a few seconds of anticipation. You saw the realization on Pom’s face, and she brightened immediately. Valkyrie’s leg twitched; she was getting so impatient.

Mo got up and knelt in front of Nila and took her hand. “Nila Odesa, will you go to the ball with me?”

Nila reddened, but nodded profusely.

“You didn’t need to embarrass her,” you said, laughing.

Then, Mo and Nila bid you three adieu and left for a walk in the courtyard. You laughed alongside Valkyrie and Pom at the awkwardness of it all, but you were happy for them. Then, a thought dawned on you, and you turned to Valkyrie.

“Valkyrie, do you have a date?” you said.

Her mouth twitched as if she wanted to say something specific, but she threw you a smirk. “On what planet would I not have one, my sweet Hufflepuff?”

Before you could ask further questions, she changed the subject. “So. Blood on the walls. Was it a prank or not?”

Your heart sank, and all levity fled. The teachers had cleared out the hall upon their arrival. They later confirmed it was all rat blood, and most of the students thought it was a pre-Halloween ball prank. Though you recalled the tension on Headmistress Frigga’s face when she made the announcement. She was holding back.

“What if it’s real?” Pom said. “There is a beast out there. What if it’s not done? What if...that thing...comes after Ken again?” She twisted her napkin in her hands.

You took her hand as a flash of evil yellow eyes surfaced in your mind, and you concealed a shudder. “He’s safe here. As long as we stay in the school, it’ll be okay.” Even though the words came out confidently, you did not feel them. Were you truly safe at school? If it was real, then who had written the message?

“What did they mean by, ‘enemies of the heir, beware’?” Valkyrie said. “Who’s the heir?”

“And of what?” Pom said.

The three of you were quite puzzled about it and your conversation eventually went in circles. You thought about asking Leah, from the switcher book, if she might have some answers. A part of you thought perhaps you should bring this up to your friends; the fact that you had conversations with a book that spoke to you, which was still weird even to Hogwarts standards. But when you opened your mouth, you found yourself stuffing more potatoes into it and forgot what you wanted to say.

The windows closest to the ceiling opened up and owls flew in with morning mail. They dropped letters, packages, and newspapers to the students. Pom caught a letter in a pink envelope while Valkyrie caught Mo’s paper. You were not expecting anything but glanced up to see a large package hurtling towards you, which you caught just before it pegged you in the face.

The package was in a black box with a silver bow tied around it. You touched the bow and rubbed the softness; it was velvet.

“What’s that?” Pom said.

“I don’t know,” you said as you undid the bow. The box opened up to reveal a swath of cool fabric. It was black chiffon with lace patterns all over it. You lifted the fabric out of the box to reveal a beautiful black dress. You gasped at the heft, not too heavy, but it definitely carried some weight. The side of it glittered at the hip while the neck was where the black fabric stooped down to reveal a daring neckline that was covered by translucent chiffon.

“Woah,” Valkyrie and Pom said. “Who sent you that!”

You looked in the box and saw an envelope with a single card with the message: Happy Halloween.

There was a black velvet box underneath the envelope that you did not notice before. You let Valkyrie and Pom occupy themselves with the dress while you popped it open. There was a dark glint as the open box revealed a studded necklace of bright green emeralds. You already had guessed who this was from, but the emeralds were his way of signing it off. A quiet laugh escaped you from how heavy-handed it was, but you felt moved by the thought of his gift. It all seemed far too expensive to take, though he would not listen to a single word you said to oppose it. He would certainly be upset if you did not wear this when he saw you at the ball. You sighed and gave in. Professor Laufeyson was the sort of man that did not even need to be present to sway your choices. You knew that he knew you were utterly wrapped around his fingers.

Valkyrie and Pom sent a tirade of questions your way, but you chalked it up to a secret admirer and that you did not know. You stuffed everything back in the box and popped a bite of sausage into your mouth as you headed out of the Great Hall in a mad shuffle. “See you at the ball tomorrow!” You told them.

The rest of the day passed in a blur as you attended your classes. There was no potions class today, and you just wanted it to end so you could see him. You were slightly alarmed at how your concern for his life had now grown into a mild obsession with the man. A part of you lied to yourself and said that you were still only trying to prevent him from dying, like in your visions. But you knew it was far more than that now. Even if Heimdall came and told you he saw a prophecy that Professor Laufeyson would never die, you could not bear to be away from him. He had taken over your mind in ways that even your visions never could.

You glanced out the window from your common room at the darkness and looked around, blinking. The day really had passed in a blur since you could barely remember your classes. Fatigue hit you like a train as you changed into your nightgown. You fell into bed like a stone and, though you feared sleep these days from knowing what toothy nightmares awaited you, it was also what you desperately needed.

***

It was the night of the ball and you stood in your room and looked at the girl in the mirror. She was definitely not anybody you recognized. There was something cooler, more confident about her. She was in a gorgeous black dress that fit her every single curve. The emerald necklace laid around her neck immaculately, and provided the perfect statement piece to the outfit. You glanced at the plunging neckline and bit your lip. Your breasts were not very large, but this dress accentuated the swell of them. Upon doing a little turn in front of the mirror, you appreciated the curve of your rear with a bashful smile.

You shook your head at the mirror, not believing it, but also thrilled. Tucking a stray baby hair behind your ear, you left your room to head over to the ball. The walk through the halls was busy, with beautifully dressed students heading over to the Great Hall. The boys looked older and more handsome with their suits and dress robes. Some wore a sprig of flowers on their lapel while some fashioned a moving brooch that crawled along their pocket. The flurry of dresses of all colours and shapes and sizes excited your senses.

“Freya?” a voice said from behind you.

You turned around and saw Nathan in black dress robes. His eyes widened when he looked at you. “Wow, you look beautiful - I mean, you’re always pretty - but this - like - wow.”

A laugh bubbled up from your lips as he stumbled for the words. He laughed with you and then held out his arm for you to take. You slid your arm around his and the both of you walked into the Great Hall together.

Though you had spent the last seven years marvelling at the grandiosity of the Great Hall, it still took your breath away. Candles were lit amidst jack-o’-lanterns which floated in the ceiling. There was an ethereal aura of a glittering golden glow that swirled through the air. It moved as you walked through it. The tables were lined with crisp white linens and the centre stage was ready for dancing. There was a band at the far end of the hall that played gentle cocktail music. You spotted a rather grumpy looking group of large toads beside the band and wondered curiously which part of the concert they would make an appearance.

It was a little embarrassing once you realized that everyone you passed was staring at you. You looked into the eyes of people who saw you every day, but this time, they looked at you differently. The staring was perhaps supposed to be flattering, but the long gazes and gawks made you slightly uncomfortable and so you stared at the floor.

You spotted Nila, who wore the peach coloured dress she had bought from Gladrags. She looked beautiful. Her heels were nearly four inches high, and she towered over you. You smiled brightly and gave her a delicate hug. She stared at you, eyes wide. “You look gorgeous, Freya!”

Mo came by with swirling blue drinks and raised his brows when he saw you with Nathan. You told him to “shut it” under your breath and he winked at you.

“There’s Pom!” Nila said, and all of you drifted through the room, chatting along the way.

Pom was with a tall boy that you did not recognize. He had sandy skin and looked to be slightly younger than her. Brown curls fell around his temple and he smiled with deep dimples. She was looking beautiful in her short purple dress and ankle boots. Pom looked at you and audibly gasped. She showered you with compliments until you were sure that you would pass out from the embarrassment, but you smiled and nodded. After several minutes of catching up, you excused yourself and went for a drink.

The cool blue liquid slid down your throat and you exhaled after a few more gulps. You looked around from the drinks table at everyone. Couples surrounded the dancefloor, itching to dance. More students trickled in from the entrances and you saw Headmistress Frigga approach the stage. Her dress was a beautiful grey that almost looked silver. Flowers were pleated into the long braid down her back. You continued to look around the room, searching; where was he?

When you arrived back to the group, the Headmistress began her announcement.

“Welcome, teachers and students, to the annual Halloween Ball! Tonight will be a night of merriment and festivity. It shall be one to remember! Now, to send us off, let us begin with the customary dance.”

She stepped towards the stage, and Heimdall walked towards her. He was in more traditional dress robes but looked more like a king as he took her hand and led her into the centre stage. The band played a waltz and the two of them moved like swans in the water. Professor Fandral brought in Professor Sif and they danced. One by one, the teachers all started to dance. You saw a flash of red and gasped when you saw Valkyrie being twirled in the arms of Professor Odinson. He wore a black tuxedo and looked as handsome as a movie star. But it was Valkyrie that held your eye; she was show-stopping. Her red dress billowed as she danced and the slit opened just enough for your heart to race, but closed back up just as you got excited. You raised an eyebrow at her when she caught your eye and she laughed.

You looked at each of the teachers, and still could not see Professor Laufeyson. Just as your heart sank at the notion of him missing the ball, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see Professor Laufeyson holding out his hand. Your breath hitched in your throat when you looked at him. His hair was gelled back, and he held one hand out to you, with the other bent politely behind him. He wore a black suit with a silken green vest and tie that stood in contrast with his fair skin. He seemed to glow in the warm light of the Great Hall. His eyes twinkled and his cheeks were positively rosy. Your heart dashed into a mad rhythm as you took in his presence. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?” He said.

Pom, Mo, Nila and Nathan stood stock still, shocked. You took his hand without thinking twice or even looking back at your friends and Nathan.

“Good evening, Miss Eves,” he said, whisking you away and onto the dancefloor. He looked at you with a hungry gaze. “You look ravishing.”

You gulped as you placed one hand on his shoulder and one in his hand. His free hand was placed on the small of your back. When you glanced up at him, it was hard to remember your footing. “You clean up well yourself, master,” you said, lowering your voice for the last part.

He smiled at you and twirled you around as the music rose in pace. “My apologies for stealing you away from your date before the night has even begun,” he said without remorse.

You laughed. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time to get into trouble,” you said with a grin.

He raised a brow at you and pulled you closer. His arms were firm, and his body led you through the unfamiliar footwork with ease. You fell into step with him and your bodies felt as one, moving fluidly across the dance floor. He whipped you about and held you close all alongside with the music. Every time you turned back into him and your body slammed against his, you felt your desire increase exponentially. Now and then Professor Laufeyson would glance at your visible cleavage and you suppressed a smile. In a room filled with people who stared, he could look unblinkingly at you and you would not flinch. When his eyes were upon you, it felt as though you were flying.

During a slower part of the dance, you looked past him and noticed everyone looking at you again. No, not just you, but the two of you. Your face flushed, and you hesitated for a brief second as your thoughts grounded themselves again.

“Careful, any sudden moves and I’ll rip you to shreds,” Professor Laufeyson said under his breath. “At least, that’s what they all think.”

“Everyone is watching,” you said apprehensively.

He spun you around and dipped you back. A devilish smile stretched across his face. “Miss Eves, are you ashamed to be seen with the most evil man in Hogwarts?”

You shook your head as you brought you back up. “No, and you are not evil.”

The music swelled, and he spun you several times; you were thrilled and dizzy all at once. He ran a hand across your back, leaned in close, nearly inappropriate. “Oh my dear girl, you have no idea what I am.” His voice sounded almost sad, but when you tried to look into his eyes, he deflected your gaze by turning to the stage and clapping for the band.

Nathan approached the both of you hesitantly. “May I steal her back, Professor?”

You did not want to leave him, but any more sensual dances and you would become a puddly mess. Professor Laufeyson nodded and handed you over to Nathan, a gleam in his eyes that told you, ‘see you later’, as a sort of warning.

The next dance was more upbeat and now most of the students joined in and some teachers stepped away. You laughed when you observed the head of your house, Professor Bjorn, dancing rather erratically with himself. Then you noticed he was holding a ferret in his hand and doing a waltz. Valkyrie came over to you and gave you a tight hug. You held her close and both of you shouted each other’s ear over the music at the same time.

“Did I just see you dancing with Professor Odinson?”

“Did you just dance with Laufeyson?”

You both smiled widely at each other and broke into laughter. Arms still entangled, you jostled her gently. “What is going on between you two?” You said, glancing at her and then at Professor Odinson, who was now in conversation with Headmistress Frigga over by the tables.

Valkyrie looked down and then back up at you. “I have a lot to tell you,” she said. But then her eyes grew suspicious. “And what have you got to tell me? Shaggin’ the bad boy now?” She clicked her tongue and looked you up and down, impressed. “My sweet Hufflepuff, always surprising me.”

You hit her shoulder. “Stop it! I am not shagging him…” Not yet, at least...

“Can I cut in?” Nathan said, dancing over to you. You disentangled from Valkyrie who gave you a ‘this isn’t over’ look. You danced together in a big group with Pom, her date Vlad, Nila and Mo, and Valkyrie. Some other members of the Quidditch team came over and joined as well.

The music sped up into a fast-paced rock number as all of you jumped in the newly formed dance circle to show off your best moves. You laughed when Mo started raising the roof and waving his arms in the air and at one point you, Pom, Nila, and Valkyrie made a conga line while the boys watched you sway your hips. The song shifted into another tune seamlessly, and when you heard the croaking of the toads and you undeniably lost your shit.

“This is my JAM!” you said, grabbing Nathan by the hand and dancing away. He perked up at your moves and you spent the next hour sweating, swaying, jumping and having the time of your life.

After another half an hour, you were panting as you yelled, “I need a break!” And left them all on the stage. Your feet got sore but in a good ‘dancing pains’ kind of way. You went to refresh yourself and catch some air. Upon sneaking out the door, you did not realize that Nathan followed you until he gently grabbed your arm as you descended the stairs towards the garden. You jumped and nearly tripped on the stairs when he caught you and held you close.

“Careful,” he said, flashing you a gorgeous smile. You were frozen in place with a small flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

He leaned in and you thought about pushing him away, but your arms stayed still as he kissed you. It was not intrusive; it was more of a questioning sort of kiss. This kiss would have been perfect a month ago, when your life was normal and you weren’t falling for a mysterious man who may or may not be doomed.

He pulled away but continued to hold you. “You’re beautiful, Freya,” he said.

The slight flutter of butterflies now sank into stones from your guilt. You should not have led him on. “Nathan,” you said, taking a deep breath and stepping away from him. “You are so sweet, and handsome, and honestly, a lot of fun…”

“But you want to stay just friends?” he said, with a knowing look.

You looked up at him and nodded. “I’m sorry,” you said.

He seemed slightly crestfallen, but the smile never left his face. “It’s okay, and you’re pretty fun too.”

“Thank you for being such a great date,” you said.

He laughed and nodded, leaving you to go back inside. You appreciated what a gentleman he was about the whole thing. Many of your friends had rejected boys only to receive scorn, disdain, and sometimes downright violence. It warmed you to know that Nathan was one of the good ones and you hoped he would find someone extra special.

The night air was cool, and a gentle wind fanned against your skin. You closed your eyes as you wandered into the gardens. You looked at your watch and realized that it was nearly midnight. The balloons would explode at the stroke of midnight and the tiny pumpkins would be there to surprise everyone. You thought about returning, but the thought of tiny pumpkins nipping at your ankles was just not as appealing as spending your time in the night air surrounded by flowers and beautiful trees. You had gotten your fill of the Halloween prank last year, when the stone gargoyles had sprung to life and puked all over you and Valkyrie. Mo had laughed up a storm until a gargoyle flew across the Great Hall and vomited right on his head.

“Did the Headmistress not advise you to avoid wandering about alone?”

Your heart leapt at his voice. “I’m not alone,” you said, not looking back yet, and continued walking down the trail of gardens. A long row of willows stood gorgeously with their sweeping leaves blowing in the breeze.

He fell into step with you, a hand on your lower back. His touch made your chest tighten. Where else might his hands go?

“Thank you, by the way,” you said.

He glanced at you, not clear on your meaning.

“For the dress and necklace. I only wore them since I knew you would curse me if I didn’t,” you said with a teasing smile.

He chuckled. “That’s right, I would have.”

For several minutes, the both of you silently walked through the gardens; smelling the flowers without speaking. It was peaceful and not terribly awkward. There was a comfort that had set in when you were around him. However, after a certain amount of silence, you wondered why the man who loved to talk so much was particularly taciturn.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you said boldly. Perhaps it was the overexertion from dancing or the dress that gave you the delusional idea you could coax the truth out of this man, but regardless, you tried.

He shifted closer to you. “Perhaps I’m plotting to kidnap you as a part of my master plan, and lock you in a tower,” he said mischievously. You laughed loudly at his response.

“Do you always laugh when the villain reveals their grand plans?” he said, smiling. Though his smile did not reach his eyes.

You pushed him as you walked. “You’re not a villain,” you said.

“And how do you know that?” he said, stopping underneath a tall tree. You had wandered back towards the castle. The warm glow of the candles and pumpkins inside illuminated the windows in an orange light, as if the entire castle itself were one gigantic jack-o’-lantern.

There was a rustling, and you stepped away from Professor Laufeyson in case it was a student, or worse, a teacher, and a couple walked by. However, they barely glanced at the two of you, for they were far too busy searching for somewhere to...well...finish off the night. When they walked around the corner in a hushed fit of giggles and quiet moans, you took a step towards Professor Laufeyson again.

“I know you’re not a villain because there is warmth in your heart,” you said, placing a hand on his chest.

The moonlight reflected off his eyes and illuminated his face. You noticed a look of utter desperation in his expression that you had never seen before. It was there for only a second before it vanished with a raised brow. “What you see is a fire, Miss Eves; dangerous if you get too close,” he said and seized you with a grin. You wrapped your arms around him and his lips touched yours in a passionate embrace.

Your core awakened from the feel of his tongue gliding across your lips and the strength of his arms gripping you so tightly that you might break. But you wanted him closer, tighter. You bit his upper lip as he took a hand and palmed your breast through the fabric of your dress. It was as if a new feral hunger hit you. It took all your strength of will to not strip bare right in the garden and let him take you. You tangled your fingers through his hair and moaned as his hand grazed the most sensitive part of your breast.

A scream tore through the air. You broke the kiss and immediately felt the chill of the night. Screams erupted from the Great Hall. You and Professor Laufeyson glanced at each other before seeing several students run out the door in terror. Some were frantically moving about as if they were trying to get something off of their bodies. A boy was thrashing so hard that he ran down the stairs, knocking several people over along the way.

“It’s not supposed to be like that, they’re just pumpkins,” you said to Professor Laufeyson, alarmed at the chaos that ensued from the castle. What was going on?

It was then you saw a girl, completely pale and red-haired in a light blue dress. At first you thought she wore a strange patterned glove, but in fact, there were large black masses covering her arm. They wriggled over her skin and she screamed and shouted, “get them off! Get them off me!”

You both were about to run over to the crowd of students when a shriek closer to you echoed through the garden. “Help me! Please!” It was in the direction where the couple from earlier had gone.

You and Professor Laufeyson ran over to the couple and you saw the boy was crawling away on his hands and knees while the girl was trying to do the same. The boy shoved past you as the girl reached out for help.

A horrifying creature, about the size of a dog, was slithering through the garden. It was scaled and dark green with the body of a snake, but five times thicker. It had five heads protruding from its centre, and each head had a menacing pair of red eyes. Each head snapped its fangs at you and the girl. The creature hissed and lashed its barbed tail. You ran over to the girl and grabbed her by the arm to help her up.

The creature whipped its tail, and you pushed the girl away from it, right into Professor Laufeyson. You cried out when you felt its painful barbs against your leg. The creature hissed, and you saw five forked tongues, inches away from you. You tried reaching for your wand, but the pain had set in immediately and it was debilitating. You fell to your knees.

This was when the screaming and noise all slowed down, as if you were in a film. One moment the five heads reared back to bite you, the next, you saw an insanely bright green light. You heard someone screaming right next to your ear, and it annoyed you to the point you begged them to stop, only to realize that it was you that was screaming.

“What’s happening?” You said your words slurred.

Darkness edged your vision, and you saw Professor Laufeyson’s face above yours, looking terribly distressed. “Stay awake Freya! Stay awake!” It looked as if he was yelling at you, but his words sounded far away.

You felt yourself being carried, or floating away. Perhaps you were in the castle again? It was hard to tell. Your stomach was aching terribly and your whole body was sore. Shooting pain ran up your leg and your chest tightened. How you wished it would end, but as soon as the wave of pain ended, another wave rose. You thrashed back and forth trying to shake the feeling, but it would not stop. “Please, make it stop,” you screamed.

Darkness clouded your vision, and you saw Professor Laufeyson once again. This time he was saying things, but you could no longer hear him. “Loki,” you whispered, and everything went dark.

[octalove]

III: We Met

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader goes out, and finds herself in an alley with no one to call. An old memory is brought up. Part one and part two.

Who the fuck leaves a batarang lying around when they’re spying on a supervillain?

A week had gone by. A week where every day I tried to wake up and smile at my family and go to school and do calculus, but all I kept wondering was what kind of idiot leaves a batarang when they’re spying on a supervillain? I glanced over at it; I’d left it lying on my desk as a reminder. Every time I looked at it, I felt the sharp edges biting into my palm as his hands closed around mine. I smelled leather and the musty scent of unsettled dust in the warehouse. It was the same shape as the angry red bat on his chest- eye level with me.

How did he know who I was? How did he know I was there? How was it he just knew I’d show up to that same warehouse four days afterward in the middle of a school day?

“Tell Batman,” He’d said. If the secrets weren’t ringing around my head already- there it was. The line that kept echoing. Tell Batman, tell Batman. Telling Batman wasn’t an option. He’d lock me in the cave until I was thirty and growing liver spots. I’d never be Batgirl again. No way in hell was I standing before that black cowl and confessing two weeks worth of bad decisions.

That blue evening, Gotham was alive and breathing with the heat of something organic; rhythmic heart-beat in the muffled cars on the street, and the jazz clubs, eyes wide open in the bright, excited lights dotting the spiring skyline. The breeze bit subtly as the city shook the shackles of summer, and moved into early September.

I stuck close to Batman, almost apologetically obedient for the night as I tried to convey some sort of negotiation on my part; I’m sorry for acting weird, I’m on my best behavior tonight.

Robin didn’t so much appreciate that sentiment, because Batman’s side was his place, but patrol began civilly enough. Car theft on Nettleton (Red Robin dealt with), some questionable sex work in the Row (I oversaw and made sure the women were safe and willing), a robbery call (Batman and Robin checked it out- false alarm). By one in the morning, we were all mostly still in one piece, and lulled by the mildness and coolness of the night. I was dragging my gaze over Haytham Parkway when Oracle’s staticky voice came through the coms.

“Batman. There’s been a Red Hood sighting at the H&P in Gotham Village. It’s Falcone’s men.” Swiftly and gracefully, the three of us scaled rooftops, pillars and cell towers. We arrived within twelve minutes, and then planted ourselves like gargoyles. Listening. The Village was one of the more quiet parts of Gotham. It was all settled with blue collar, passive criminals, instead of outright violent ones. A few minutes passed. The building looked undisturbed.

“Do you think-“

Bang.

A gunshot followed by glass breaking. In a hair’s width span of time, Batman, Robin and I descended on the building and swung through through the shattered display window. Inside, broken glass littered the floor, along with disheveled items from the shop, stung around haphazardly. Two men were dead on the ground, blood around them like a premonitory chalk outline. They were unassuming men, but I recognized the patches on their matching shirts as Hadley’s Deli. They were Maroni’s men.

“Robin- the back rooms. Batgirl- check the perimeter. If he left the building, he won’t be far.”

I shot past them and into the dark, grappling to the roof for a better vantage point. From there I swept my gaze across the northern and eastern neighboring streets. Movement. Like a twitch in the darkness. I raced down a fire escape and into an alley adjacent east of the H&P. It was quiet. The sound of my own boots on the asphalt as I halted. It was small and enclosed- the shadows weren’t deep. If he was here, I’d know.

Click. And now I did.

“Easy,” He said, a rumbling, buzzing sound that was becoming familiar. “Easy.” The second order was much slower. I felt his presence as it drew closer, but I didn’t turn around. I was a damn good martial artist, but a gun would always be faster and deadlier than me.

“I just keep findin’ you, don’t I, little bird?” He stopped a couple feet away from my back. “Where’s Batman?” He asked. I scowled.

“He’s with the men you murdered.”

A deep chuckle. “You saw that? Maroni and I have been havin’ a… disagreement. He’s comin’ around.”

“What, he won’t submit to you?” I pressed, hoping since he was so keen on entertaining me, I might be able to probe for some information- figure out his long game.

“Something like that.”

“So all this. Is it just to get to Batman?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward. I tried to look for something to catch his reflection in- a window or something. I felt the cool metal of his gun part my hair like a curtain and press against the nape of my neck. Then, slowly, his gloved hand ghosted lightly across the side of my face, slowly, slowly, upward toward my temple until he found the button. Click. And just like that, my coms were down. No Batman’s voice in my ear. No updates from Oracle. No calling for help. How did he know that was there?

“What do want? Who the hell are you?” I said, letting frustration and anger deep into my voice. I stood cemented to my place as he drug himself around to stand in front of me, until I was staring back at that angry red bat on his chest. He’d holstered his gun.

“Why don’t you find out?” It was one part threat, one part joke that I wasn’t in on, growled contemptuously in that electronic flare that masked his voice. Whether it was rhetorical, or a genuine invitation, I took the opportunity to cautiously raise my hands to his helmet, feeling along the edges of the jaw until I found a matching set of release triggers. The architecture of the helmet was oddly congruent with something Bruce would’ve cooked up. Another mockery- like the bat.

His passive stillness terrified me. Like he knew just what was under the mask and just how I would react. Like it was all part of his plan, and I was playing my dutiful role. I pressed. A hissing noise as the inner workings went slack and released, giving me the freedom to push it up and over. When I saw his skin, then his mouth, I stopped. I stopped because he was actually letting me- and there was no reason he should be letting me except if he planned to kill me afterward. There was a long strangulation of the air between us. Gotham City- the buildings and streetlamps and gaudy, glittering marquees- seemed to quiet just to watch in anticipation. In a very coy way, his lips battled a grin. I felt like saying something witty, but stayed silent for fear of pushing time back into motion. He leaned forward, and lightning leapt in my stomach, despite myself. The dusk had alleviated, leaving only black across the sky that was rather vapid in comparison to the shining city reflected on his helm, still covering his eyes and nose.

“Scared?” He asked; quite spitefully considering my hands were trembling. Of course I was scared. But his voice was so human- smooth, but a little raspy, like anyone who gave orders for a living might have. It was low and deep, and I preferred it to the voice scrambler.

A dog barked from somebody’s fenced balcony, and some passing car shook with jaunty bass. Loud engines, sirens, honking, distant voices. The sizzling of a street taco stand. And still, somehow I was close enough to hear his drawing breath as his chest rose and fell. I went to push my fingers along the bottom of the helmet, to remove it entirely, but he grabbed my wrist.

A tiny, pinpoint red light was flashing on the breast of my suit. Batman was trying to contact me- unable to reach my coms.

“Daddy’s calling.” He looked wolfish there in the dark; featureless but a mouth displaying a cheshire grin that was wickedly snide. In a fluid motion, he released his grip on me and replaced his helmet, turning on his heel into the shallow shadows.

*

6 years prior

I hated this. The music, the marble, the champagne- all of it. I caught Alfred’s eye as he exchanged formalities with some distant-cousin-twice-removed of Bruce’s. I knew what he was looking at me for. The glint in his eye said it all.

Please behave, was the message. I’d already heard it twice this evening; Bruce told me how important this party was for the investors (aka, please behave), and Dick gave me some casual line about how he’d been looking forward to tonight all month (aka, please, please fucking behave).

It’s not like I had anything better to do. I couldn’t drink (no, not even the wine), and the only thing I had in common with company investors was that I was under Bruce’s thumb, too. Occasionally, some sweetly overbearing lady would appear, pinch my cheeks and pat my head, then disappear just as quickly. Thirty minutes passed as I sipped my ginger-ale and counted untied shoelaces, until I decided to find my brother. It was easy, really- just follow the laughter.

Dick wasn’t born in Gotham- not like me- but his rearing in the city had no doubt left a strong imprint. Everything about him proposed Gothamite glamour- even his voice. Far removed from the expensive private grammar lessons Bruce had bought him, he swung his vowels, and let his ‘a’s hang in the air, leaving an irresistible air of cocky, laid-back swagger. Some equilibrium between wealthy socialite and ‘man of the people’ he seemed adept at finding.

I found him at the snack table. He wore a perfectly-fitting suit of all black with navy satin accents, dark hair slicked back, and a very beautiful woman (I would come to know as Maya. Or was it Moira? Mara?) on his arm. A couple of his academy friends stood around him- freshly graduated, and so much wiser for it. It all suited him well. Not as much could be said for me.

“Hey.” He said, throwing me a grin.

“Hey.”

Maya Moira Mara excused herself to freshen up for a moment, and Dick put his hands in his pockets.

“Make any friends?” That was always his first question. I rolled my eyes.

“No. But you have.” It was a pointed jab- he and Babs had just taken a “break” and Maya Moira Mara’s silky red hair marked her as a painfully obvious rebound.

He sighed, decidedly ignoring me. “What about uh... what’s her name?”

“Who?”

“Ah, I forget. Her parents are international law something or other. Bruce works with ‘em. They have a daughter about your age.”

I just grunted. No use in making it seem like I was desperate for company now, considering I’d spent the last hour alone.

“There-“ He pointed to a girl standing alone, apparently abandoned by her respective international lawyer parents. Before I could slap his hand down and tell him it was rude to point, she spotted us. Following that, I’d look even weirder if I didn’t say anything, so after a nudge from Dick, I walked over to her.

“Hi.” I said, immediately wishing I could take the monosyllabic word back and try again. “I’m Jason.”

The girl smiled at me. A small, bashful sort of smile that you give when you’re the only people your age at a christmas party, so you slam together like two magnets.

“I’m Y/N.” She replied.

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 28

A scratchy little voice is crooning in my ear. Major Fracture Detected. Joint Dislocation Detected. Pneumothorax Detected. Blood Loss Detected. Mild Nerve Damage Detected. T. Jacksonii Spore Residue Detected. Diagnosing…acute deceleration injury. Poisoning. Spore inhalation. Begin treatment?

There’s a little friendly dinging tone. Someone near me shifts, and then I feel a warm hand slip into mine momentarily and squeeze. For a second I’m willing to let myself believe it might be Elena, but then I run my thumb lightly over the knuckles pressing against my fingers and give that up right away. This hand is much too soft to be Elena’s.

I try to crack my eyes open but it’s far too bright for that right now. I’m having a little bit of trouble thinking straight. And a little bit of trouble breathing but for whatever reason it feels as though wherever I am right now is very far away and separated from the rest of my body. I can feel a stab of pain on the right side of my chest whenever I take a breath but at the same time it’s as though I’m observing it from such a far distance that it barely is of significance. Maybe it’s happening to someone other than myself.

Begin treatment? the voice repeats and next to me the person holding my hand sighs and says my name. I recognize their voice but not who they are.

“Are you awake?” they ask, and I try to say something but my tongue is very thick and heavy. I swallow hard; my throat hurts.

“Roan,” they say again, “I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m going to have to start the treatment procedure soon, okay? You really did a number on yourself falling off that cliff, and then the spores you’d been breathing in for about three days weren’t helping any.”

I try a little harder to say something but I know it doesn’t come out right.

“This might feel a little weird,” the voice says. Now I do recognize it; it’s Makado.

Begin treatment? The tiny scratchy voice says again and this time Makado shifts next to me and hits the button. There is a hiss and a whine of moving machinery and then a sharp prick in the skin above my hand. I make a little noise, try to move my hand away, but something hard has grabbed onto it and isn’t letting me go.

Sedative administered, the voice says, and then everything fades very quickly. I have just enough consciousness left, circling the drain as it is, to feel Makado’s hand slip from mine, and then I am moving, or rather I am being drawn into something, and then something comes down over my head and cradles my neck. It’s very dark and I feel as though I ought to be afraid, but before I can open my mouth to voice my fears, to scream perhaps, I flutter out entirely.

 * * *

 I can hear talking. I’m laying in a bed curled over onto my side and in the other room I can hear talking.

My head is remarkably clear. I breathe in deeply and let it gust out slowly through my nose. There is a mild ache in my ribs, nothing more.

“Yes,” Makado says, “I’ve got her. No, she didn’t give me any trouble. She’s pretty beat-up, a kitten could have knocked her out and carried her up to the surface.”

A pause. I open my eyes with an anticipatory wince but the light is cool and grey and clinical, filtering down through a sheet or curtain drawn around the bed; there is a wide-paneled fluorescent set into the ceiling but it’s switched off.

“No,” Makado says, after a pause, then repeats. “No, that won’t be necessary. Just be ready to receive us, that’s all.”

There’s an IV in my hand and the jaw of a heartrate monitor clamped around my finger. I think about it for a moment and then reach down and take it off. The machine the IV feeds into gives an interrogative chirp.

“Yes, I have the handcu - hang on, she’s awake.”

I hear the screech of a chair sliding back along a hard floor and then a door opens and someone comes in.

“Hey,” Makado says softly, and I almost feel like crying. “You okay in here? You awake?”

“Makado,” I breathe, and she pushes back the curtains and sweeps her eyes over me, then blows her breath out.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m – I’m good,” I say, taking a moment to think about it. I sit up a little more fully and yawn. My jaw cracks like a gunshot. “How long was I out for? And what are you –“

Makado laughs. She motions at my legs and I scoot over a little, let her sit down at the foot of the bed. “So, um. You were out for about a day and a half. That’s how long it’s been since you fell off the cliff.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. I brought you down here,” she gestures, “put you into the autodoctor unit that they had, let it do its thing. It isn’t ideal but it uses a ton of ballast, so I figure you probably feel pretty decent, at least. When we get out of here we’ll get you to an actual doctor for a checkup.”

“Autodoctor?”

“It’s an old Anodyne thing,” she says. “DUSA has the last functioning one, they get a little use out of it. Runs off an old AD biocomputer. It was supposed to be for a military contract, put a bunch of them overseas, hard to reach places. Can do surgeries and treatments and diagnose like that,” she says, snapping her fingers. “Not a lot of flexibility, though. But plans fell through of course and the few that were left are museum pieces now. The one they’ve got here is the last working one.”

I chew on that for a moment. “DUSA?” I ask finally.

“Oh, right. This place,” she says, gesturing. “Dura Urgens Staging Area. DUSA. Some people call it Medusa. As like, a pun.”

“That doesn’t really help me understand what it is.”

Makado nods. She reaches up and runs a hand through her hair; I’m busy watching her eyes. Something about this place is important, I think; something here means something to her.

“Below us,” she says finally, “about eighty or a hundred meters down, is the largest known nerve bulbule in the Pit. There might be others someplace else, someplace deeper, someplace we haven’t explored yet, but this is the biggest one we know of. The Pit doesn’t have a brain the way you or I do. Whatever common ancestor it shared with humans, if it ever had one, was so far back that it was before the development of the central nervous system. The Pit uses a distributed nervous system instead; it has nerve bulbs all over the place and they handle reflexive and autonomous reactions for the general area that they’re in. Then, you move deeper by another five hundred meters and you find another bulb. It’s like a web, or a road network, and all of these bulbs are the cities.”

“But this one below us is the biggest.”

“Yes. That doesn’t mean it’s the main one, just that it’s…bigger. Handles more things. And DUSA – well, there’s a reason that they put it right over the big one.”

I blink at her. “Wait, is this where the - ?”

“The Contingency Plan?” she says, clearly saying the words with big important Capital Letters. “Yeah. That’s here. This is the facility for it.”

Something about the way she grins at me makes me shudder. I think back to the story Peter had told me – god, poor Peter – and his horrible descriptions of the way that the contingency had fucked their brains. I look at the woman before me, at the mottled flesh beneath her eyepatch and the hearing aids poking their heads out of her ears, at the acid burns and digestion marks lining her arms like vitiligo, and I can’t reconcile her tiny excited smile with the picture I had of her when Peter was telling me about her.

I blow out a big sigh and flop back in the hospital bed. There’s a warning twinge in my ribs and I wince; Makado picks up on it instantly. “You alright? Do you need anything?”

“No, I just – how was that thing able to fix me so fast?”

She shrugs. “Lots of ballast. The tank was still nearly full when we got here, it used a few gallons on you it looked like.”

Again I shudder. I’m trying not to think back to the horrible, terrifying crawl through the tight, sucking, fleshy tube to the ballast bulb, about the abject terror I had felt when Crookshank had crawled in there with me.

Crookshank…he’d be dead now, almost certainly. I realize that I don’t remember seeing him die, I don’t remember what happened to him. My memory of the attack down in the barrows is just streaks of gunfire sliding by my faceplate, the rhythmic, chest-squeezing thundering of the slug rifles, and the shrieks of the copepods. I wonder for a moment whether I’m going to have PTSD, whether I’ll ever be able to eat lobster again. I shake my head.

“Mak, this is fucked.”

“What is?”

“This whole – this whole thing. This is –“

“Relax,” she says, putting a hand on mine. I can feel the cool, clammy skin on the inside of her palm where the acid had burned her. It feels like something that’s been microwaved about twice as long as it needed to be and then let to cool down and I have to stop my lip from curling. “It’s not active. Not yet, anyway. Once we get that crystal back we can go about getting it carved down and –“

“I don’t think that crystal’s going to be an option any more.”

I tell her, briefly, about what happened after Erica and Marcus had ambushed us, how they had shot the Sergeant, how they had shot Elena and gotten us separated. “Do you know where she is?” I ask, realizing with a faint feeling of guilt that I hadn’t asked already.

Makado stares at me. “Who?”

I blink. “Elena. I don’t know where she is, did she – did she make it out?” The thought of Elena laying there hurting somewhere in some throbbing corridor of this place is almost too much for me to bear. Or worse, laying there dead –

I break the thought off like a plank of rotten wood. She is not dead. She can’t be.

I almost missed the calculating look that had flashed across Makado’s eye, and I realize I’ve grabbed onto her arm rather tightly. I let go but even so I can’t stop myself from biting my lip out of sheer worry. “She’s fine,” Makado says finally.

“She is?”

“Yeah. She came stumbling into Control a few days ago, they got her up to the surface, far as I know she’s still in the infirmary. That’s how I knew to come down and get you, she told us what was going on.”

“Oh thank god,” I blurt. I hug my knees to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut. She’s okay, I tell myself. I can feel the tears coming but at least this time they’re out of relief. After a moment I hear Makado sigh again and then she shifts closer to me and puts her arm around me.

“You must really like her,” Makado ventures after a moment. I laugh but it comes out as more of a sniff.

“Yeah,” I say after a moment. “Yeah, I think I – I do, yeah.”

For a short while it feels as though Makado doesn’t know what to say. Then finally she shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she tells me.

“For what?”

“For dragging you into this,” she says. “I never thought that all of this would happen, it was going to be just routine,” she says, massaging her temples. “The copepods, they never would have done anything if it wasn’t for the damn Leechman, they never would have attacked, nobody would have had to die…”

“It isn’t something you could have predicted,” I say gently. Makado continues on as though I hadn’t spoken.

“And then Erica, goddam Erica, Christ…”

“She was doing what she thought was the right thing,” I say. “I don’t think she meant for things to go the way they did.”

“That doesn’t really make it any better,” she groans. I think about Peter again and wish fervently that he were here. I lean back and navigate my arm around so that now I’m the one holding Makado.

“I’m sorry about Peter,” I tell her.

Makado is utterly silent. She’s looking away from me, over into the other room. I can see the muscles at the base of her jaw working as she grinds her teeth. For a moment, just a moment, I get a feeling of foreboding. She seems horribly angular and purposeful and mean all of a sudden, sitting there at the foot of the bed like an axe about to fall on me. I start to say something else but she looks over at me and nods. Her eyes are very hard.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too. It sounded like a rotten way to die.” I look over at Makado, look at her carefully. She glances over at me after a moment. “What?”

“Nothing,” I say finally. I swing off of the bed, get up and stretch. “I feel good,” I observe.

“Yeah,” Makado says, rising to her feet as well. “With that much ballast in your system you’ll probably be riding pretty high for a couple of days at least. Now, be careful though, because –“

“What are we going to do about the FBI?” I ask her. I undo the hospital gown and let it fall, gaze down at myself. There’s a ragged weal of a scar along my ribs on the right side but it already looks long-healed. I put my weight down on my other foot and nearly stumble. Makado gets up and rushes to me but I caught myself on the railing around the cot.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, my leg, it –“

“I was going to tell you,” she says. “The autodoc wasn’t able to set it properly. You’d fallen on a calcium deposit and your tibia and fibula broke. It cleaned out the fragments of bone but there wasn’t enough left to just set it and let it heal, so it put in a synthetic replacement, used ballast to meld your skin and muscle around it, but that leg is going to be weak for a long time.”

I sit back on the bed, reach down and feel the leg. It doesn’t feel much different but whatever caused the weakness is still lurking inside there, maybe a muscle not connected properly, maybe something else. I can feel a dull, bone-deep throb of pain, steady and regular and hard-edged, just waiting to boil up to the surface the second I put a foot wrong. I shake my head.

“I’m going to need like, a boot or something. If we have to climb out of here –“

“We’ll figure it out, it’s okay. I just wanted to tell you before you, you know, figured that you were totally fine.”

“What about this?” I ask, turning to her, pointing to the scar across my ribcage. “I know that wasn’t there.”

“Just repair work on a rib, I think. I read the summary it spat out after it was done but I’m pretty sure it didn’t reinflate your lung by going through your rib cage.”

“Jesus Christ,” I murmur, craning my neck and squinting down at it.

“Are you breathing alright?”

With only a little trepidation I take a deep breath and hold it, then let it blow out long and slow. There’s a little pain when I hold it, in the right lung only, and then as I’m nearing the tail end of the breath it rattles somewhere deep down, but I shake my head. “A little rough but it’s okay.”

“You need to know that you’re still a little, you know, doped up. Ballast would have kept most of the pain down and kept your head pretty clear but that’s going to come back with a vengeance if you overdo it.”

I nod. “Alright, I get it. Take it easy for probably the next year or so.”

“There’s an extra jumpsuit over on that chair.”

And so I get dressed, and eat a nutrient bar and Makado shows me around DUSA. I have to hang on to her every now and then when my leg threatens to buckle beneath me but she bears it without complaint and lets me hobble around with my arm around her shoulder like we’re old friends.

DUSA looks just like all of the other ranger stations I’ve been in so far, if maybe a little cleaner. She shows me the door to the room that has the big scary capital-letter Contingency Plan inside of it, but even though I ask she won’t let me in to see it.

Outside the inch-thick windows the Pit’s flesh is squeezed tight against the walls. A few small stents hold it back here and there to let a metal gantry and corridor file through and out into a vent but otherwise it’s like this place was just cut open and the small lozenge shape of DUSA was slipped in and then the Pit grew back around it. Unlike some of the other ranger stations this one is tall rather than wide, maybe four or five floors of various facilities. There’s a dormitory, a kitchen and eating area, the small infirmary with the autodoctor, now revealed as a squat, many-legged machine a little like an MRI machine and a metal octopus had a baby, and on the fourth floor room after room of workstations with dark screens and dusty keyboards. Servers lie dark and dormant, tucked against the walls and tied down with cloth straps.

We end up sitting on the roof of the place, after Makado opens the hatch and lets a ladder telescope down from the recessed sheath it was hiding in. She helps me up it methodically and then we’re there, the fleshy wall of the ceiling barely a dozen feet above our heads. It gives me a sense of disorientation somehow, like I’ve just crawled upside down from the bottom of DUSA and am now standing with my feet glued to the ceiling, staring down at the floor. I blink hard and it passes.

Makado leans out over the railing and groans. “Everything’s fucked,” she growls. “This whole place ought to be full of people, getting things ready for when that crystal gets here. Instead it’s just me and – and you.” She’d gotten more and more pessimistic the further into our little tour we’d gone. I reach over and put my arm around her. She stiffens when I touch her and then seems to relax. I feel rather comradely, I feel like laughing. I guess I had convinced myself that I was going to die and now that I’ve received an unexpected reprieve I can’t hardly believe it.

“It’ll be okay,” I tell her. “What’s going on with the FBI?”

“Admin’s stalling them, but they’ll come back with a writ or a warrant or something and when they get their hands on our files there’ll be some shit. Right now they’re fighting with the DoI guys over jurisdiction, I think.”

“DoI?”

“Department of the Interior,” she says, waving her hand. “Normally that’d be who would handle this type of thing, they’re in charge of National Parks, but the FBI want in because this isn’t a park any more, I think technically it’s a preserve or something and that’s different…somehow. Not sure on that one.”

I nod. I start to say something else but Makado heaves a huge sigh, glances sidelong at me. “There might be some trouble but I think we’ll be able to get you out of it,” she tells me, and I laugh.

“I’m more worried about you. Klaus said they were gunning for you, that you were going to go down hard.”

She rolls her eyes. “We’ll have to see,” she says. “Especially if he’s dead, it might be a little more difficult for that to happen.”

I get a little wrench in my stomach as she says it but I swallow hard and let it pass. I did what I had to and if I hadn’t I would be dead.

I wonder for how long after this I’m going to be seeing that grin and that knife in my dreams.

“So he was a mole, then?” I ask. “That’s basically what he was saying.”

“I don’t think so,” she says. “He’s been here for a long time, Klaus has. I don’t think he ever was, you know, an undercover FBI agent or anything, I think he was just their guy on the inside. An informant. I read his personnel file, he’s an ex-con. It makes sense that there was someone giving them information but…” she trails off. “It’s hard to say,” she finishes. “It’s too bad, though. Too bad we didn’t get that crystal. We could have done a lot of good with it. If they just hadn’t shattered the first one…”

We sit there on the roof of DUSA for a long while, until Makado finally groans and gets to her feet. I glance up at her and then take the offered hand, let her pull me up. “What happens now?” I ask.

“Now?” she laughs. “Now we get out of here.”

 * * *

 Getting out is easier than getting in. Makado gets me into a ranger suit and we march off into the wet, tumescent depths of the Pit. Except, as Makado explains to me, we aren’t nearly as deep as I think. DUSA is far higher depth-wise than the dense fungal hell I thought I was going to die in. When I asked her how I had gotten here, then, she explained, as though it were simple, that she had just taken an IAV.

Peter had mentioned them briefly, the acronym standing for something like ‘Internal Anatomy Vehicle’ or similar. I’d even seen some, parked down below in the meager garage at the control center, what feels like ages ago, lurking like snub-nosed, aerodynamic lozenges, there in the dark. But here is one of them, its big chunky wheels soaked in gore, its prow stained red from apparent hours pushing panicked through venterial folds, rushing to DUSA with me in the passenger seat, strapped in as tightly as Makado had dared.

“It was tight,” she tells me. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it. I went as fast as I possibly could but it was still a near thing.”

“It was those fucking lizards down there,” I mutter. “I touched one, they’re covered in some kind of – poisonous goop, I don’t know what –“

“Yeah. The autodoc scrubbed your system and breathing clean air for long enough got the spores out as well, but you’re just riding on the ballast right now,” she reminds me, pressing a combination on a keypad near the low-slung waist of the vehicle and then stepping back to let the hatch open. It smells like oil and disinfectant but I clamber in eagerly. The interior is space-age, or at least it would have been in the 90s or so. The interior lights are all in red for some reason; when I ask Makado about it she explains it’s to help maintain low-light vision while still letting you see. When she grins at me her teeth reflect back cherry-stained and I have to shake my head to keep from thinking of it as blood. She looks carnivorous, hungry, frightening.

The ride is bumpy but uneventful. Once Makado flattens something that looks like an overgrown louse the size of a small pig. It shrieks as the wheels crunch over it. I glance over at her and she shrugs. “We’re in a hurry,” she explains.

After that we lapse into a comfortable silence that grows slowly more frosty the closer we get to the Control Center. I can see it approaching on the three-dimensional map readout on the dashboard, a blinking line of waypoints leading us back to the garage. Makado’s answers become shorter and shorter and eventually I just stop trying to make conversation at all. She’s just tired, I tell myself.

After we park Makado helps me out of the IAV and guides me up a set of stairs and into the Center. My leg twinges a little whenever I really put weight on it but if I limp it isn’t nearly as bad. The stairs are rough though, and I have to cling on to her and take them one step at a time just to get up them.

Over the last hour of driving or so I developed a little bit of a headache but when I mentioned it to Makado she nodded and explained it was probably just the ballast starting to wear off. It’d keep me going for a while longer but I’d need to rest and let my body heal. I had grinned. “Fine with me,” I told her, and she offered me a faint smile and then turned her attention back to the wet, bloody folds ahead of us, nudging the nose of the IAV through one muscular ribbed sphincter at a time.

The stairs take us to sort of a tool room or machine shop, and then we pass out into a hallway and then up some stairs that I recognize. Beyond the next inch-thick submarine-style door is the control room, still as messy as a few days ago, with two or three of the geeks present before still in residence. They look up when Makado enters but make no comment other than a perfunctory greeting or two; clearly we’re expected. Then I step into the room and catch nothing but eyeballs.

One of the nerds frowns. “Wait,” he asks Makado, staring at me, “is that…?”

I start to answer but Makado nods, shuffling me along with her hand in the small of my back. “Yes, it is,” she assures him, but the look he gives me after she does so is more than a little confusing. I glance at Makado but before I can say anything there is a burst of pain in my leg that forces a groan from my lips and makes me stumble. Makado catches me before I fall and then I’m good again. My leg feels like it’s made of glass, or rather that it’s two glass blocks stacked on top of each other, and if I’m not extremely careful about how and where I put my weight they slide apart and the most excruciating -

“You okay?” she asks, and I nod.

“Yeah,” I grunt. “Once I’m out of here I will be.”

“They already called the elevator down,” she tells me. “I radioed ahead for us. Twenty minutes and you’re through.”

“And I can see Elena?” I ask. I feel a little like a baby saying it but it just tumbled out when I opened my mouth to say something a little less pathetic like ‘thank goodness’ or similar. Makado stiffens next to me fractionally, and I frown. “Are you –“

“Yes, you can see Elena.”

We hobble out of the control room and down the corridor to the gondolas. I don’t even know how to feel; I don’t even know what time it is, whether or not it’ll be light out. Something about the way Makado took too long to answer has me worried, though, and I glance over at the woman as we make our halting way towards the waiting gondola car.

Her jaw is clenched tight and though I can’t see her one good eye from the side I’m on, I can see her brow is downcast and furrowed. I lick my lips and try to quell the sudden stab of fear that’s gone through me. “Mak, is Elena…is she okay?”

Makado opens the door to the gondola and helps me inside. “She’s fine,” she tells me. “Just try to rest. Sit down on the floor if you need to.”

As soon as she says it, as if on cue, a wave of exhaustion passes through me and it’s all I can do to keep myself standing. Makado shuts the door and fiddles with the controls for a moment and then with a sickening lurch we’re moving upwards, and with the motion it’s as though all the tension exits my body. Even the twinging in my calf doesn’t seem quite as bad now that we’re moving. I look at Makado and she offers me a tight smile. “See?” she says. “We’ll get you out of here soon.”

“And Elena’s alright?”

Makado doesn’t meet my eyes. “She’s fine,” she tells me again, but the way she says it just makes me worry more.

“Do you promise?” I ask her. She looks up from her wrist computer.

“Hmm?”

“Do you promise,” I say slowly, “that Elena’s alright?”

Makado stares at me and I see something dark and unnameable shifting behind her one remaining eye. After what feels like entirely too long she nods. “Say it,” I prompt her. “Please.” I know it’s irrational and stupid but the way she’s acting is like she’s hiding something from me, it’s like she’s –

“Roan, calm down,” she says. Her voice is smooth and serene. “Elena’s fine.”

“Promise me she is,” I whisper.

Makado takes what feels like a moment longer to respond than she should. “Okay,” she says finally. “I promise.”

“Okay,” I say. I try to will myself back to the relaxed, relieved state I’d been in as soon as the gondola had started moving, but I can’t find it. Makado’s put enough worry into me that I feel like a spiky ball of it, hard-edged and serrated. I eventually do take her advice and sit on the floor and rest a while.

I try to make conversation with her but the answers she gives me are flat and eventually we both let it peter out. I assume she’s nervous about the FBI and the investigation I’m sure she’ll go through. I already told her on the way up that I didn’t mind hanging around and giving a statement or whatever else they need exactly, but it barely seemed to make an impact on her. Maybe it’s Peter, and if it is, I don’t know what to say to her that could possibly make it better.

But I go ahead and stick my foot in my mouth anyway. “Mak,” I say, breaking the – well, not silence exactly, for the grinding and swaying of the gondola is far from quiet, but my words still seem overly loud inside the car, “are you okay?”

She blows a breath out and looks at me. She starts to say something, then stops. “I’m sorry,” she ends up telling me, and I frown.

“What for?” I ask. “I know it didn’t – it didn’t go how it was supposed to but none of it was your fault, you couldn’t have predicted –“

“No,” she says. Her voice has a catch to it as though she might start crying. “It isn’t that. It’s – look, can I show you something?”

“Sure.” I’ve got no clue where she’s going with this. Outside the window I can see the first hint of real sunlight that I’ve glimpsed in probably about four or five days, pouring down into the Pit like an orange cascade. It’s far-off and dim but it’s real. Looks to be somewhere around the middle of the day or so. Makado reaches down for me and with her help I manage to clamber to my feet. I’m still a little unsteady on the right leg but I think it’s getting better. I think I just needed to rest it for a while. “What is it?”

“I’ll show you,” she says. “Turn around real quick.”

“What are you –“

“Just do it,” she nods. Her eyes flick over to the window then back to me. “You’ll miss it.”

So of course I turn, not thinking anything of it. I hear her shift and then come and stand just behind me. There’s a clink of metal, a small subtle sound. I don’t see anything out the window.

I start to glance back at her and then she grabs my wrist and tugs it backwards and snaps half of a pair of handcuffs around it. “What!” I blurt, jerking away from her before she can grab my other hand. Her face is tight and calculating.

“Give me your fucking hand,” she snarls.

“Makado, what the fuck –“

She punches me. I see it coming but I don’t react in time. Her fist slams into my gut and the breath whooshes out of me in one go, folds me over like a pressed shirt. I reach for her and try to slap her back but she grabs my hand and then she’s got me by the wrist – her grip is like iron. I bring my leg up and knee her in the hip and she grunts, but then she draws her leg back and kicks me in my newly repaired calf and the explosion of pain is so intense that I scream. I draw my leg back and falter and then fall to the floor, landing heavily on my elbow, and then Makado grabs me and heaves me over onto my stomach, jarring my leg again and forcing another scream from between my teeth as she cuffs the other wrist.

“What the fuck!” I yell, as soon as I’ve caught my breath.

“I’m sorry,” she says, breathing heavily, smoothing off the front of her suit. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“You fucking bitch!” I shriek. “You fucking bitch, get me out of these fucking cuffs!”

“It wasn’t anything personal,” she says, sounding more like she’s trying to convince herself than she is trying to convince me.

“You bitch!” I say again. I apparently become rather uninventive when I get stabbed in the back. Makado growls, a low wordless snarl, and then rolls me over onto my back. The cuffs cut into my wrists, sandwiched between myself and the floor, and I cry out.

“Shut the fuck up,” she tells me. Her voice is icy calm and that scares me more than anything else she could have said. “I have to give someone to the FBI. I have to let someone take the fall.”

I open my mouth to say something and she puts her booted foot over my throat and presses down gently. I can feel the blunt cleats on the bottom dig into my neck. I try to wriggle away but she just puts a little more of her weight onto it and then I can’t breathe and so I stop, staring at her desperately, hoping she has the sense not to choke me.

“There is too much at stake right now,” she says, “for me to go down for something as fucking stupid as human trafficking. Especially when my contribution was just looking the other way. So you’re going to go down for me. That’s all. There’s still a chance I can get that crystal back but I won’t be able to if I’m rotting in a federal prison somewhere.”

She takes her foot off my throat and I heave the air in while I still can. “Tell me,” I wheeze. Makado looks down at me. “Tell me you weren’t lying about Elena. Tell me she’s okay.”

Makado is silent for a long while. “I lied,” she says finally, in a small voice. “I knew you wouldn’t come with me if you thought she was still in the Pit. I don’t know where she is or if she’s alive. The tracker in her suit is dead and nobody’s heard from her in three days.”

The gondola grinds to a halt and the doors hiss open, and sunlight and fresh air pour in. I hardly notice. Makado steps over me and walks out while I lay there, my hands cuffed behind my back, bawling my eyes out, and then three men with badges and pistols come in and pick me up and carry me off somewhere. I don’t notice where, I don’t see it. All I can see, my eyes squeezed shut in a vain attempt to keep the tears from leaking out, is Elena, poor Elena, trapped somewhere at the bottom of the Pit and calling out my name, not knowing I’ll never come.

Continue with Part 29

Back to Table of Contents

[amynatural]

I arrived two days ago, right when we were going to meet, so I didn't bother getting a room from a motel. I parked my tiny car to outside of the diner he texted and waited while letting him know that I arrived. After a few minutes he replied and told me that he has arrived as well and waiting inside. I didn't know how we were going to recognize each other, but I guess I was going to be the only one looking at their phone when walking inside. So I walked in to the diner. With sky blue walls and orange booths around, it felt inviting. Which I was thankful to.

My legs trembled a bit, while walking through the doors. I held the phone in my hand tightly, and looked around. I didn't know how he looked. So I just looked for a guy sitting alone, as I walked slowly between booths and tables.

At the back of the diner, two guys stood up and walked towards me.

"You're Amy?" asked the taller one. I nodded.

"I'm Sam. This is Dean." He explained. I was thinking it was weird for him to bring a friend to this, until Sam said, "We are both John's sons."

Apparently I have not one, but two brothers.

We sat down to a booth, next to a window. There was a silence for a while between the three of us since it was awkward, and I used it to observe them. And I have to tell you, I didn't know John's genes were that good, since I haven't saw him before. They were both so handsome. Dean had green eyes and dark blonde hair, while Sam had brown hair and green-ish eyes. They were both taller than me, but Sam was also taller than Dean. They kind of look like a girl's dream guys. You know those guys. They also looked older than me too. Not that old though. Both seemed like they were in their twenties. Anyways, I didn't look like them at all. I have dark wavy hair that's below my shoulders and blue eyes that I got from my mom, if I hadn't mention these before.

"What do you wanna know?" I asked, not knowing where to start.

"We wanna know if you're telling the truth." Dean said, a little bit sternly. He seemed rather annoyed. And I get it. He was suspicious. I would be too.

I took out the diary and pushed it on the table, towards them. "This is my mom's diary. She died a month ago." As Sam reached for it, I continued. "Apparently she was a hunter and she met John during a hunt. They hooked up, or whatever, and that was it. I've never met him. Diary says they've helped each other in different hunts here and there but, like I said, I've never seen him."

"You're a hunter too?" Dean asked, looking at me, while Sam was reading a page from the diary. His behavior made me imagine an ice wall between us. His voice was cold and he didn't look at me all empathetic like Sam.

"I've solved two cases since she died. Both ghosts. I don't really know other things." I smiled, little bit embarrassed.

"Why?" Sam was finally done with the page. "Why did you start hunting?" He seemed genuinely confused, like starting hunting was an unusual choice of mine. And it might be, if you think about it.

"A demon killed her." I stated, with a voice firm and steady. "And I wanna know why."

They looked at each other, clearly communicating non-verbally. After a second or so, Sam turned to me. It took him a little while to choose his words.

"How do you know it was a demon?"

"Black eyes. That's what the diary says." Now I was confused. Did this two don't know about these stuff, or did they know something they don't want to share? Or were they simply questioning my knowledge? Either way, they seemed relaxed after my answer.

"It was probably a demon she messed with. Those guys really can hold grudges." Dean said, right before the waitress came by, asking for our orders.

I hadn't thought of food up until that point so I had to look around to their menus, which were all over the walls. All kinds of hamburger types was actually mouth watering. Especially the special of the day menu.

"I'll get the special of the day." As I said, I realized Dean stated the same menu too. I smiled. At least our choices about food seemed similar.

"I'll get a salad." Sam's sentence made me shiver.

"You see all those hamburgers on the walls and choose salad?" I couldn't stop myself from asking. How? How could someone has that level of self control?

"Yeah, he wants to stay 'healthy'." Dean's disgusted tone when he said 'healthy' made me chuckle a bit. I was relieved to see him smile as well. This was the first time he smiled since we met, it felt like the ice between us was finally cracking.

Sam handed the diary back to me. As I took it, I finally asked.

"Did something happen to John?" My voice sounded worried. And to be honest, I was.

They looked at each other again with... Grief? I don't know.

"He passed away, a few weeks ago." Sam's voice was soft.

I... I felt numb somehow. He died before I could reach him, like I feared. I lost the chance to meet him. I could've, if I called Dean earlier. I could've, if I wasn't so stupid to fear about unnecessary things. If I wasn't a coward.

I must've been in some kind of a trance, since I didn't saw the waitress coming, nor our food on the table once she's gone.

Dean's hand, swinging before my eyes made me come back to present.

"Are you gonna eat those?" He pointed at my fries as he was already throwing one of them to his mouth.

"Yeah." I mumbled. My appetite wasn't the best, considering the news I just got, but I was still hungry.

I looked at them before I got my burger between my hands. Sam looked like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if he should, while Dean was already too busy eating.

"How did he die?" I asked, my voice somehow muted.

"Car crash." Dean said straight away, without raising his head from his food.

Car crash... One of the best hunters mom's ever met according to her diary, yet he died by a car crash? The universe has a weird sense of humor, I guess.

I saw Sam flashing a look to Dean but neither said anything.

I didn't know what to do now. They were clearly hunters and I would love to ask for their help with the demon but I hadn't even saw any demons before the one I was chasing. I was practically clueless. I wasn't even sure I was chasing, by the way. I mean... I was looking for weird stuff to find cases, that can maybe link me back to him but only cases I've found was ghosts. I wouldn't even call myself a hunter at this point. I was just a girl, trying to be like her mom, I guess... Plus, I didn't want to ask them something like that right away. They didn't even know me yet.

"Thanks for meeting me." I smiled, after I finished my food.

"What are you gonna do now?" I shrugged to Sam's question.

"I don't know." I looked around from the window before I continued. "I can't go back home. There's nothing left for me there. Guess I'll just keep looking. For him and for other cases."

While Dean was paying for the food, Sam and I exchanged numbers. He told me to call or text him whenever I need. The way he insisted on it reminded me of my mom actually, which made me smile sadly.

After that, we parted ways. I wanted to spend more time with them, as they were the only family I got left but I didn't want to plunge into their lives all of a sudden, without their consent. I can text them, that's something too.

I'm in my motel room now, lying in bed. I'll get back to hunting as soon as possible. I just... I just can't believe I've lost the chance of meeting my father, because of my stupid cowardice. If I just called Dean immediately after I've called him...

Anyways. I'll write again, whenever I can. Take care, all of you.

[kingreywrites]

33.         “Welcome back. Now fucking help me.” With Mac and Jack for the prompt if you want 😚

Thank you for the prompt! I’m sorry I didn’t specify but you can absolutely hit me up with a prompt if you want ;)

Fandom: Macgyver

Disclaimer: I haven’t watch season 4 so this is all based on spoilers I’ve seen and my assumptions, I hope I’m not too off ^^’

Words count: 2311

Warnings: violence, minor character death

The first thing Mac noticed as he woke up was the sickening smell of smoke permeating the air. Trying to scrunch up his nose is a mistake, though - pain exploded all through his head and the smell took a second place to the urgent desire to puke. Mac coughed, a harsh thing that sent tiny knives in his lungs, then coughed again, and again, until he feared he might just die from the pain alone.

It took a long time for him to notice the hand circling his back soothingly, or the whispered words of comfort above his aching head, said with a texan accent he could recognize anywhere.

"Jack," Mac called, his voice a painful croak immediately drowned by his coughing. His eyes were still closed but, for a moment, he imagined that his partner was back, taking care of him and making sure everything would be alright - a pipe dream that Mac liked to indulge in. Jack was gone though, had been for a long time, and Mac was alone. Alone even when the room was packed with people, alone in his pain because there was no one to share it with like he had done with Jack - alone, especially now that he made everyone but Riley believe he was a traitor, that he worked for Codex…

Codex…

With a gasp, Mac opened his eyes and jerked upright - but a strong wave of pain made him hunch right back into his hands with a groan. There was smoke everywhere, and Mac knew that he was the one to set the fire, but the memories were vague and fleeting. He knew there had been a problem; he knew he was outed as a double agent, and that his aunt had confronted him; he knew… No, he was missing time, and the blood on his hands spoke of a head wound he did not remember.

Movement to his right made him raise his eyes again in panic. Through the dizziness, the confusion and the fear, the fully geared agent in front of him was still easily recognizable.

"Jack?" Mac breathed, meeting his friend's concerned eyes with disbelief.

For a second, Mac could see inside his partner's eyes something different, that he had trouble identifying - there was worry here, and sadness, but also something fragile and vulnerable. Jack was quick to conceal it though, his features hardening as his hands went to rest on his firearm.

"Welcome back," he bit out. "Now fucking help me!"

He gestured to the weird contraption in the centre of the room and it came back to Mac with a flash - the Codex bomb, being made as a traitor, his aunt… He made an explosion to distract but she had seen through his tactics and it all went wrong from here and-

Swallowing, his head turned to the back of the room and there she was - Gwendolyn Hayes, all that was left of his family, eyes open and unseeing. Images of their struggles flashed through Mac's head, and he remembered desperately trying to push her and her knife off him, frantic in his panic until she fell and didn't get up - the knife he hadn't tracked embedded in her back. Then, there had been an explosion that Mac had set up himself, and if she wasn't before, it certainly was the last straw for her body. Mac wanted to be sick.

"She's dead," Jack confirmed, even if it was quite obvious, "and we'll be too if you don't help me and defuse this bomb, so I don't care if you went crazy and betrayed Phoenix-"

"I didn't," Mac whispered, scooting closer to the bomb, feeling queasy from the concussion he certainly had and from the guilt burning in his stomach, only worsened by Jack's obvious anger.

"You sure?" Jack growled, "'Cause I came back very happy to see my team and I was told that not only my best friend went completely nut, he also dragged the closest thing I have to a daughter into this-"

"I didn't!" Mac yelled, ignoring the jab about not being the closest thing Jack had to a son - or, better yet, turning it into resentment and anger. "And you would know that if you stayed instead of going on a two-years mission with no contact!"

"So it's my fault now? You were okay with me going!"

Mac laughed, an ugly and tearful sound wrecking his body, but didn't answer, because he didn't think he could. Had he been okay with it? He knew he had pretended to be, for Jack's sake, secretly hoping that he would see right through him and stay home - but that was selfish, and he couldn't really blame Jack for not reading between the lines. He wanted to, though. Wanted to tell him about the growing loneliness, about losing his dad and realising that he was all alone, everything he thought to be permanent and safe in his life now gone. His relationship with Desi was unstable, his with Riley was changing, Bozer was growing more distant - or maybe he was the problem once again, the common variable that was to blame for all it destroyed.

He wanted to tell Jack all that, but the worst thing was realising that he couldn't - that his relation with Jack had changed too and that he didn't know the man in front of him as well as he knew his partner. He wondered if Jack was seeing the same thing.

"Is Riley alright?" Mac asked after some minutes of tense silence, still trying to make sense of the bomb. "I asked her to go but I'm not sure she listened."

"She's outside, Desi took care of it," Jack answered gruffly, his hands leaving his weapon as he relaxed a fraction.

He didn't ask again about Mac's betrayal, but the question was still hanging between them, visible in every tense muscles and every suspicious glances Jack threw his way.

"I didn't- I didn't betray Phoenix, I'm a double agent."

"That no one knows of?"

"Riley does," Mac snapped back, before deflating, feeling adrift in his conflicting emotions. He tried not to look at his aunt's body, but its mere presence behind his back made his body shake with nervousness. Or maybe that was the bloodloss. "Who did you talk to?"

Jack frowned. "Weird guy, not as funny as he thinks he is, kinda want to punch him... Ross?"

"Russ," Mac corrected absantely, wiping the blood off his eyes. "Ross is the guy from Friends."

"If the shoe fits..."

Mac snorted and regretted it, his head still pounding with his heartbeat. Jack's hand went tentatively to his arm and the blond stiffened - it has been a long time since someone touched him. Riley had taken his hand, last time, but that was it.

"Kid," Jack started, the nickname so achingly familiar but which didn't seem to fit quite as well as it did before.

"I don't think I can disarm it completely," Mac announced, ignoring the tentative. "And- And I don't have much time, but if I want to make the explosion less devastating, I need to stay there. You should go," he ordered, hoping that the cold and rational charisma his father always exuded was hereditary for once.

Jack shook his head, tightening his grip on Mac's sleeve. "You know that's not happening."

"Do I?" Mac laughed, heart in his throat. "Didn't you leave once already? Just do it again."

"Kid-"

"Don't call me kid!" the blond yelled, ignoring the nausea and the pain to glare at Jack's too serious and too concerned face. "You think I'm a traitor anyway," Mac spat, focusing back on the bomb, "so act like it."

He told himself that the silence was good - that Jack getting up was good, because that's what he wanted, wasn't it? He wanted his friends safe, even if that meant that he had to be alone once again, and forever in that case. There had been a time when he had been sure he wouldn't die alone, but like everything in his life, certainties had been fractured and destroyed.

Jack walked on the other side of the bomb and plopped back down, his dark eyes meeting Mac's.

"I am not leaving," he enunciated harshly. "I'm sorry I made you think… I'm sorry, alright? For what I did, and for not being there for you when you obviously needed. And for how I thought you were a traitor, I'm sorry for that too. I'm not sure how I can make it up to you, hoss…" Jack's voice cracked and, numbly, Mac noticed the tears gathered in the ex-Delta's eyes. "... but I know that I'll spend what's left of my life trying. Even if it only last ten minutes."

"No."

The word had escaped Mac before he could really think about it, but even with his muddled mind, he understood how much Jack had to go.

"I'm staying and that's final," Jack repeated.

"No!" Mac growled, ignoring the fire in his eyes and the fire in his lungs and the fire ravaging the building they were both in - ignoring it all, in favour of sending the most hateful look at Jack. "Don't you see? If you stay, you'll die and, with my damned luck, I know that I will survive!"

The tears gathered in his eyes fell, and the smoke made it painful, but Mac didn't think about it - he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could only see the image of Jack's body he had already thought about a billion time, and had already dreamt about a billion others. His voice was hoarse, full of an emotion Jack had never seen in him.

"Charlie is dead. My dad is dead. My crazy terrorist aunt is dead, and I'm the one who killed her." Mac took a deep shaky breath, seeing that the countdown was getting close and knowing that it was Jack's last chance. "Don't… Don't make me lose you too, please."

He was begging at this point, pleading with Jack to see reason, to leave him here like he himself had to leave his dad - because it had been the right choice, hadn't it? His dad heroically sacrificed himself and Mac had to leave, so now Mac could do the whole sacrifice thing, and Jack would leave.

Jack didn't move.

Mac closed his eyes, his hands trembling too much and the bomb as inoffensive as he could make it anyway with the materials he had. He couldn't even think about what else he could do - he was too numb, too empty to feel the same excitement he did before. He could only think about the overwhelming grief he had tried so hard to keep at bay, and which was now rearing its ugly head, making him think that soon, Jack will be part of his body count.

Mac didn't want to be there for that. He didn't think he could live, if Jack was dead because of him.

A hand gently uncurled his hands, prying his nails from his already broken skin. There were still tears falling on their entwined hands, Mac noticed as he opened his eyes, each drop chasing the blood and the grime covering them.

He was exhausted. Had been since his dad died, and he didn't think he could ever get better.

Jack pulled him into a hug, and Mac melted, feeling like he had finally found an anchor in the storm that turned his world upside down. They had mere seconds left and nothing was fixed, nothing was back to the way it was before, because it could never be.

But Jack whispered "You go kaboom, I go kaboom" and, through the beating of his heart, Mac heard the comfort for what it was - at the end of the day, no matter how much we have changed, I'd still lay my life for you and I know you'll do the same.

The bomb exploded, and Mac's last coherent thought was the overwhelming hope that he'd get the time to mend things with Jack.

-----

Mac hadn't expected to wake up. He had hoped, for sure, but actually feeling the sheets on his body and hearing the voices floating around the room was a surprise. A welcomed one, weirdly enough, because he needed to talk with Jack and-

Jack.

His eyes flew open and even the piercing pain of the sunlight wasn't enough to make him close them again. He tensed, despite the fact that his entire body was screaming at him - he even welcomed this pain, because that was one thing that could always ground him. Jack couldn't be dead, he couldn't be, especially not if Mac wasn't right there with him and he needed to find-

Oh. There he was, on an hospital bed too, arguing with Riley. Jack looked exhausted - Riley too.

"You need to be honest about your pain," she exclaimed, raising her arms to the ceiling. "Stop being so damn stubborn!"

Before Jack could voice the protests he had so clearly thought of, the door opened and Bozer entered, two cups of coffee in his hands. Mac would have laughed at his timing if he didn't feel like he might pass out again any second - and, with a start, he realised it had been a long while since he last wanted to laugh. Maybe it was the overwhelming relief of seeing that Jack hadn't been an illusion, and that he hadn't died on Mac like everyone else.

"Welcome back," Riley ground out in direction of Bozer, "now fucking help me get Jack see reason."

This time, Mac snorted, thinking back on the same line being used against him not too long ago. Like father like daughter, wasn't it? Riley and Jack called his name with the same obvious joy and relief on their faces, and Mac smiled - a tiny, insecure, but finally there smile.

[monsieur-fancy-hat]

How abt an AU where dazai and chuuya are in the mafia together and atsushi and akutagawa are in the ADA

Send me some characters and an AU for me to write headcanons/prompts for.

Ended up rewriting this like twice but I hope you enjoy!!

Some parts of it were taken from the canon BSD AU light novel, BEAST.

Ages during the backstory:

Akutagawa Ryuunosoke- 11 or 12

Nakajima Atsushi- 8 or 9

Akutagawa Gin- 8 or 9

Dazai Osamu- 16 or 17

Nakahara Chuuya- 16 or 17

Odasaku- 20 or 21

Let’s start with Akutagawa and Atsushi’s backstory!!

Akutagawa and Gin have a mother. She abused them, because she believed that she had to work three times harder to take care of them as she was a single mom. She also hated the kids for looking so eeriely like the fathers (cause half-siblings).

So after a while, Akutagawa and Gin fun away from home. They take as much cash as they feel comfortable with, take important belongings (weapons), a coat given to Akutagawa by his father, and other necessities.

The end up in the slums for a while, before an orphanage takes them in. They’re far away enough from their mother that it’s pretty much safe. But the orphanage learns about the mother and stuff. And they decide that maybe they should go into the foster care system? The orphanage isn’t sure right now, so they just let the kids stay.

So Akutagawa and Gin stay at the orphanage. They’re kinda loners, cause they don’t talk to people besides themselves. Some kids believe that Gin is mute (so they make fun of her) and Akutagawa -even at the delicate age of 12- has a death glare that makes grown adults run. So he uses it o the bullies. And if he’s not around... well, Gin has her way of taking care of things (stabby stabby).

But one day, this mysterious guy talks to Akutagawa. This mysterious man starts talking ‘nonsense’ about special powers and stuff. He also explains that Akutagawa might have some.

Akutagawa doesn’t believe the mysterious guy.

But a week later Gin was cornered in a alley by a college kid, who was trying to do.... non-consenting inappropriate things to her. And Gin, being Gin, had a knife out and was about to stabby stabby, when this random kid jumps on the college dude.

And he starts trying to hang onto the college guy by his neck and yelling for help

And Gin is just stand there wondering what the heck is going on

The orphanage staff rush into the alley to see a white-haired kid biting a college dude (who is still trying to shake him off) and a little girl, who kinda looks like a ninja, slipping what they think looks like a knife into a pocket.

They bring the police to arrest the college dude.

Everyone is wondering why he has cat-like scratches on his back and tiger bites on his neck.

Gin is interested by the white haired kid (which, you know, Atsushi) and brings him to join her tiny friend group.

Akutagawa, not a huge fan of him...

And apparently, neither are the orphanage staff.

Atsushi’s 8 or 9, Gin is 8 or 9, and Akutagawa is around 12.

Akutagawa and Gin get the least abused by the staff, cause they are great at not getting into trouble.

I mean, Gin was scolded a couple times for the incidents (“You shouldn’t have run off on your own! And if you’re gonna run away, then don’t come back!!”). But that’s pretty much it.

Atsushi, on the other hand.... let’s just say that the staff have some problems with him.

Gin (and sometimes Akutagawa) usually patch Atsushi up though, so he’s not alone!

They become decently good friends. Woohoo!

But Akutagawa starts thinking that Atsushi is secretly a tiger. Cause bite marks. Also cause he heard rumors that there was a white tiger around the orphanage grounds.

So he meets up with the mysterious guy, and tries to get some answers. Cause he wouldn’t want Gin to be hanging out with someone who could hurt her. That’s a no-no.

Sadly, mysterious guy hasn’t heard about this either. So... oof.

So one night, Akutagawa gets waken up by something crashing outside.

He puts on his coat and decides to go check it out, correctly thinking it’s the tiger.

Atsushi-tiger (he’s a baby tiger, just so ya know), seeing Akutagawa, goes to attack him.

And Akutagawa hears someone shout “Use your ability!!”

Akutagawa is kinda confused, and kinda angry, so he just says the first thing that comes to mind (He remembers that when he was younger, really really young, his father would show him how he sewed cloth together. How many shades of black you could use, and all the different styles. Mr. Akutagawa showed his son one of his favorite pieces, a black coat. He named it Rashomon. Cause I need this story to make a bit of sense.)

“RASHOUMON!”

Boom

Parts of his coat fly towards the tiger, trapping him.

But it can’t hold him for long, and Atsushi springs right back at him.

But mystery guy comes in the middle of them, and activates his ability.

“No longer human.”

In a flash of white light, Atsushi is found on one side, laying face-down bottom-up on the floor.

Akutagawa was standing on the other side.

Mystery guy offered Akutagawa a place to belong. A place to go home to. He even said Gin & Atsushi could come, if Akutagawa wanted.

And Akutagawa doesn’t know what to think.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to, cause ANOTHER MYSTERY GUY COMES OVER

He has dark red hair, and a beige trench coat.

And he seems to recognize mystery guy #1.

“Dazai, is that you?” “Oh! Hi there Oda! Isn’t this a surprise. I’ll be taking the kids and leaving now, if you don’t mind!”

Yup. It’s Dazai and Oda!

Also, FYI, Oda does mind. Cause Dazai left the A.D.A. a couple months ago and no one has had any contact with him ever since.

Oda is upset and wants Dazai to come back. And Dazai... doesn’t give a damn.

They have a standoff-staredown.

And while they do that, Akutagawa goes over to Atsushi to check if he’s alive and okay.

Dazai and Oda fight, but Dazai can’t bring himself to kill Oda and leaves alone.

Which leaves Oda with an uncounsious Atsushi and a tired Akutagawa.

Oda decides that he should take these kids in. So he goes to the orphanage the next day and adopts Atsushi.

And Atsushi is sad cause he thinks he’ll be separated from Gin and Akutagawa.

Which is oof.

But Oda ends up fostering the Akutagawa’s.

So he just ends up with 3 more kids. Woohoo!! And the other kids too, but they’re all younger than them (3-4 at the time).

So Oda has his hands VERY full. Too nice.

He brings them to the A.D.A.

And Kunikida scolds Oda cause “You were supposed to be looking for that bandaged idiot! Not going around taking in more kids!!”.

But Oda interrupts him and says, “I talked to Dazai.”

And everyone goes quiet for a minute. Cause if Oda spoke to Dazai and he still won’t come back, it’s over.

Dazai has defected from the Armed Dectetive Agency.

Oda spends his time training Atsushi and Akutagawa. They’re both young and a bit confused about what’s going on (“What the... I’M A TIGER?!” “Yes, Jinko, we know.”)

But they all get along quite well, so yay!

The trio grow up together, and they eventually become official members of the A.D.A. Gin is an assistant.

She, Naomi, and Haruno become friends. Gin is still closest to Atsushi though.

And that’s their [back]story.

But now... it’s time for Dazai’s!

So, Dazai & Oda went to school together. Dazai had a not-so-great home life, so moved away at 16.

He lived by himself for a month or two, living off weird part-time jobs. Due to his smarts, he managed to skip two grades. So he’s a freshman in college. I think.

And Oda is in his third year of college.

Dazai lived at the school dorms, cause he got a full-ride scholarship. Cause smart.

Dazai has known about his powers for a while. Some weird doctor guy went to him and tried to get him to join some mafia thing, but Oda advises him to not.

So he doesn’t. But he is interested.

Dazai & Oda end up in the A.D.A.

And Oda has a great time there. He likes the people. He has fun. It’s great.

But Dazai... nope. He hates it. He can’t suicide attempt without someone being there to stop him, he can’t wear bandages without being sent to Yosano to get a check up, he can’t even be gone for a day without being chased down by Kunikida or Oda, wondering where the he’ll he’s been.

Dazai is bored and sick of the A.D.A.

So he leaves.

After a huge argument with Oda, Dazai leaves. And Mori, predicting this would happen, appeared to say “I told you so.”

And so Dazai, at the young age of 16, is taken in by the Port Mafia.

And he’s pretty good at it too!

He loves playing mind games and doing interrogations and killing people who NEVER SEE IT COMING~ (sorry, wrong fandom-) and just being evil~

A couple months later, he’s on track to become a executive. He’s already a sub-executive under Kouyou.

But then, Fifteen (Well, it’s more like Sixteen...) happens

And Dazai meets the cutest redhead he’s ever seen in his life.

Also Dazai is a kinky man has a thing for gloves.

ALSO MOTORCYCLE & CHUUYA

So of course Dazai is in love intrigued by the tiny sixteen year old.

“What the f*ck I’m still growing!!”

“Sureeeeeee-”

“F*ck off.”

“So creative, Chuu~”

“I will torture you until you die from the pain and then I’ll burn you and chop up your ashes and scatter them in the sea so that there’s no way you can come back.”

“Oh. Sounds like fun!! I mean, excluding the pain part, I’d love to die with you~”

“...why are you like this?”

Since Mori is a sadist and Dazai, a masochist, Chuuya and Dazai become partners.

“Please NO.”

“Please yes~”

And they were roommates.

oH mY gOd thEy wEre rOommAteS

[cough cough] ANYWAYS

Chuuya and Dazai become partners. They murder people.

Dazai thinks it’s fun, and Chuuya can’t help but go along with Dazai’s shenanigans. Chuuya is very in love annoyed.

The two become a feared duo, but some who know them personally (Kouyou, Mori, & Hirotsu) know that they’re really just lovestruck teens.

It’s really cute.

And que the next backstory!

So. Chuuya’s backstory. I tried making up a new one for him, but I didn’t want to diverge too much from canon, so his is pretty much the same.

Now, the plot. Well, it’s more somewhat connected headcanons that plot, so... oof. The backstories all happened 10 years ago, so everyone is 10 years older than they were before.

Ages:

Atsushi- 18-19

Akutagawa- 21-22

Gin- 18-19

Dazai- 26-17

Chuuya- 26-27

Oda- 30-31

So. Atsushi is going grocery shopping, yeah?

And Chuuya is also grocery shopping, yeah?

And they bump into each other. And Atsushi doesn’t recognize him, but Chuuya remembers from one of Dazai’s drunk ramblings about trying to recruit some white tiger kid and a black coat?

Either way, Chuuya doesn’t really care. But he decides to tell Dazai once he’s home.

But only after he finished shopping for some fresh, non-canned crab.

But as he’s picking out a crab, the grocery store gets attacked by some ability users.

Oof.

And Chuuya doesn’t want to intervene (and risk his identity/secrecy to the public, who have limited knowledge of ability users).

But white-tiger Atsushi just goes flying towards one of the robbers.

And Chuuya knows.

So obviously, he tells Dazai. And Dazai, being Dazai, pretends he doesn’t remember.

Later, he goes to visit the A.D.A.

To see his ‘replacements’.

But he’s super chill about it.

And by ‘chill’, I mean smiley-evil. Like when he was talking to Mori during the A.D.A. & P.M. meeting (in canon).

Atsushi and Akutagawa are a mix of confused and worried.

And Akutagawa is lowkey wondering why the heck this random guy, who looks suspiciously familiar.

And ohhhh it’s that guy who tried to kidnap him a few years ago!

Wait. It’s the guy who tried to kidnap him a few years ago.

And Akutagawa takes Atsushi and they leave the A.D.A. building.

They end up on a we’re-denying-that-this-is-a-date-but-it-really-is.

But like they’re obviously lowkey dating, so yeah-

Like come on, Gin has been shipping this since she was like 9.

Also Dazai (after getting in a fight with with Oda, again oof), on his way home, he sees Atsushi & Akutagawa on the way back, and thinks of his boyf riend~~

And Dazai ships it SO HARD!!

But he first must go home to Chuu~

And that’s all I can think of right now. Also I really wanna get this posted cause it’s super late. I also gotta start the others. ;-;

HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!! ♥️

[rena-rain]

The Shortcut Home ch. 8

Chapter 7

Alya almost missed the dark wooden box on her bedside table when she got home. Her breath hitched when she recognized it. She picked it up and sat on the bed, fingers tracing the edges reverently. Why do they need Rena Rouge again after four years? Why isn’t Ladybug here to deliver the miraculous herself? Why leave it waiting for me? Do I get to keep it permanently this time?

She opened the lid. Instead of the orange glow she was once accustomed to, a pink ball of light flashed in front of her and flew around her head. A rose-colored kwami emerged as the light faded and opened a pair of eyes like blue marbles.

“What’s going on? Where’s Trixx? Who are you?”

Instead of the fox kwami’s throaty, sandpaper voice, this one spoke at a pitch only jingle bells had any right to achieve. “Hello, Alya. I’m Tikki. Ladybug needs you again but this time not as Rena Rouge.”

“Not Rena Rouge? Then what…” Alya trailed off as she looked into the box that had a pair of red and black spotted studs inside. “Are those...no…”

“Yes. Ladybug needs you to stand in as Ladybug.”

“But why? What happened to her?”

“She’s fine, trust me. She just needs to take a leave of absence from being a superhero. Ladybug is trusting you to take her place until she can return.”

“Whoa…” Alya gazed at the earrings. She could hardly believe it. “This is a dream, right?”

Tikki sighed sadly. “No, it’s not.”

“Hey,” Alya cupped her hands underneath the kwami, and she sank down to perch in her hold. “I promise I won’t let her down. I know you miss the real Ladybug, but I’ll do my best, okay?”

“I’m confident in you, Alya. Trixx has only the best things to say about you! And so does M - Ladybug!”

Alya twitched an eyebrow. “Why, Tikki, did you almost spill Ladybug’s identity?”

She puffed up with pride. “I am physically incapable of doing such a thing.”

“Really?”

“Watch.” Tikki started talking and bubbles immediately poured from her tiny mouth. “Same thing would happen if Trixx or I tried to say your name to someone.”

“That’s one hell of a magical insurance policy. Tikki, can you at least tell me why Ladybug needs me to fill in?”

“She trusts you, Alya. You have to trust her, too.”

Alya gingerly took the earrings out of their box. In her hand, the pattern morphed into a pair of beautiful gold discs. She put them into her ears. “I love gold jewelry.”

Tikki giggled. “It suits you.”

--

The weird jelly the ultrasound tech spread across Marinette’s abdomen was cold. She hissed and Adrien squeezed her hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah it’s just chilly.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the first appointment.”

“You’ve apologized a thousand times already, it’s fine. You had to work.”

“I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t worry about her, darling,” the tech told him. “I’ve done this countless times. Aaaaand… here’s your baby.”

A steady thumping sound filled the room; the baby’s heartbeat. On the grainy screen Marientte could make out the shape of a tiny infant. It looked more human than her last appointment. She heard Adrien’s breath hitch beside her.

“So you can see the head here,” the technician pointed at the large circle that was about the same size as the rest of the body. “If you look closely there’s the nose right here. And here,” she traced a white arc on the screen, “the spine is developing.”

“Wow,” Marinette breathed. Her eyes prickled, vision swimming, and she wiped at the tears so she could still see her baby. The image spastically showed them wiggling around.

“I’ll print out some images. I can also give you the full recording, if you’d like.”

“Yes, yes, absolutely yes!” Marinette told her.

“All right, everything looks good.” The tech removed the wand from Marinette’s skin and gave her some paper towels to wipe off the gel. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Marinette turned to Adrien once they were alone. He looked dumbstruck, still staring at the black screen. “Adrien?” She cupped his cheek.

He opened his mouth but no words came out. He just looked at her with sparkling, happy eyes and she grinned at him. “I know. Me too.”

As he clasped her hand with both of his and kissed her fingers, she pictured him kissing their baby’s forehead like that. Cradling them in his arms with that speechless joy on his face. Walking into the living room to see him asleep on the couch with their baby asleep on his chest. Adrien flying a spoonful of goopy baby food into their mouth while making silly airplane noises. Getting jostled awake because he’d shot out of bed in the middle of the night to comfort his crying child.

Marinette could picture it all; warm fantasies of a life she hadn’t dared imagine since she was fourteen years old.

How could a heart so full hurt so much?

She’d come close to telling him her greatest secret so many times in the past couple days. She wanted him to know. But when she finally admitted it, she’d be taking a huge leap of faith, and she couldn’t seem to push herself past balancing on the precipice. She would lean forward, about to jump, and seize up with terror, throat closed and breath punched from her lungs. Marinette felt paralyzed from the fear that Adrien would never trust her again.

--

Alya’s costume looked different from Ladybug’s. There was still a yoyo slung around her waist. The bodice sported the same pattern of red with black spots. The biggest difference she could see in front of her mirror was her mask was solid red and her suit was completely black at her hands, feet, shins, and forearms, imitating skin-tight boots and gloves. It reminded her oddly of her Rena Rouge outfit, minus the coattails. Her hair had darkened to a deep blackish auburn and was done in a low ponytail.

She hoped Chat Noir knew she was coming to patrol tonight and not the regular ladybug. Otherwise this was going to be an awkward conversation.

Rena Rouge was used to jumping from building to building. Swinging from a yoyo was an entirely different experience, wilder and just as exhilarating. She found Chat Noir waiting at the top of the Eiffel Tower. He was perched on one of the railings.

He gave her a smirk that dripped with bravado. “‘Evening, Rena Rouge. Red looks good on you.”

Alya slung the yoyo back around her hips, relieved. “So you know why I’m here?”

“Because Ladybug needs a little medical leave and she trusts you to take up the mantle for a while.”

“Medical?” Tikki hadn’t said anything about that. “Is something wrong?”

Chat Noir bit his lip then swung off the rail. “She’s okay. But if your kwami didn’t go into more detail then I must also respect my lady’s wishes.”

She chuckled. “Loyalty. I like it. What does that make me?”

“Hmmm. I suppose you do need your own name in the meantime. How about Ladybird?”

“I’m down with that. Shall we, Chat Noir?”

“We shall.”

--

After his photoshoot, someone knocked on the door of Adrien’s trailer. He threw on his jacket. “Come in.”

Marinette came in and closed the door behind her. She looked beautiful in a dark green dress with rose accents. She was starting to really show, at least if you knew to look for it. His heart leapt in his throat; it’d been doing that a lot lately, when he saw her, like his best-kept secret was trying to escape and reach her. Adrien kept waiting for the right moment to let the words loose - I’m Chat Noir - but they’ve yet to leave his lips.

Instead, he smiled at her. “Hey, Marinette. The shoot just ended, do you want to go get dinner?”

“No. Well, yes, I’m a bit hungry, but that’s not why I’m here. I need to talk to you first. Privately.” She was fidgeting a lot. Shifting her weight, playing with her hair, chewing her lip. Something was making her nervous.

“What is it?”

Marinette walked closer to him. “Well, I’ve been thinking about this a lot and there’s something I should tell you.”

“You’re not going to tell me you’re pregnant, are you?” Adrien asked dryly.

The joke had the desired effect. She laughed her cute, surprised laugh that he loved hearing. She put a hand against her belly. “No, but it’s something just as big, just as important. I...I’m…”

Marinette trailed off, staring at him. She was one of the few people Adrien could make eye contact with easily. Instead of intimidating, her dark blue irises were oddly comforting.

And familiar.

He may not have the best track record reading people’s faces, but Marinette was very expressive, and he’d known her for over a decade. He could swear he saw the exact same apprehension in her eyes that he felt lodged in his throat. Like they were gearing up to do the same thing.

Adrien took in her cerulean eyes and her midnight hair. He looked down at her growing baby bump then at her missing round earrings - the ones she seemed to never take off until a couple days ago.

“Yeah?” he prompted her.

“I...think we should seriously consider what your dad said about getting married.” Her words flooded out of her in a rush. 

He breathed out a sigh. He was just being paranoid. Women in their twenties got pregnant and changed earrings all the time; this was hardly a damning coincidence. And Miraculous holders’ hair changed when they transformed, so any similarities on a civilian meant little. Of course that’s not what she wanted to tell him, what were the odds they were both…

Marinette’s words finally sunk in. “Wait, what? You agree with him?”

“Not exactly. I probably shouldn’t have led with that.”

“A wedding is his way of controlling me, and by extension, you.”

“I know. But also...um, come on.” She sat down in one of the puffy blue chairs in his trailer and gestured for him to take the other one. Yeah, sitting’s probably a good idea right now.

“I won’t say your dad wasn’t inconsiderate on the phone. But you said before said he was being protective. It got kind of overshadowed by the job offer thing, but when he called he was, for lack of a better word, imploring me. I think he’s really worried. And I’ve started to think, for once, it’s for good reason..”

Adrien was not prepared for this conversation. “What did he say to you?”

“He made some valid points. Like it or not, you’re famous, Adrien. I want our family to be as drama-free as possible and the press will have a field day with an unplanned pregnancy.”

“The press is archaic.”

“Exactly. They’ll call us horrible names and judge us both and threaten to take our baby away. I don’t think I could handle seeing words like – like slut or deadbeat or illegitimate in the tabloids.”

“Or bastard,” he murmured.

“Hm?”

“When I told Chloe about the baby she called them a ‘bastard.’ A mistake. Those were the exact words she used and god, I’ve never been so furious in my life. I just couldn’t believe she would go there. But marriage is a big, personal decision, Marinette. Is fear a good enough reason to get married?”

Marinette’s breath hitched. Would that girl ever not haunt her? “Uh - um. M-more like safety is a good reason?”

“You don’t sound certain. Also remember it’s still giving into my father. He’s trying to take charge of our lives.”

“I won’t let him.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow at her.

“Really. I met with him yesterday and turned down the job.”

“Marinette - ”

“Wait, just listen. I negotiated with him.”

He chuckled. “Of course you did.”

“Your dad thought I was foolish for turning down a secure position in my field of interest. So I told him there was another way to ensure my job security for the sake of his grandkid.” Marinette sat up straight and flushed with pride. “He’s agreed to help finance and promote my own boutique.”

Adrien gasped. “Oh my god, that’s incredible, Marinette!” On impulse he swooped in, picked her up by the waist, and spun her around. Her musical laugh flooded him with warmth.

When he put her down, he was well-aware he was grinning like an idiot. This girl negotiated with Gabriel “my word is law” Agreste. How was he so lucky to have someone so clever in his life? He never wanted her to leave.

“I know we’re not together,” Marinette said softly. “But we’re close friends. We’re having a baby. Would…we could…it’s not like we couldn’t handle living together.”

“Do you really want that? If we got married, you’d be stuck with me.”

“You’re already stuck with me,” Marinette said while pointedly running a palm over her belly.

“What if you fall in love with another man?”

On his part, Adrien had trouble picturing herself with anyone at all. His future revolved around his baby now, so naturally it revolved around Marinette, too. She was family.

“Think of it this way. The pros of getting married: we live together, which makes taking care of the baby more convenient, as well as…” God, she’s cute when she blushes. “The public tones down the judgement and we get to have a big party in our honor. Which I’ll bet anything your dad will offer to pay for. We already get along very well so I think we’ll handle day-to-day logistics just fine. Cons: potential boyfriends and girlfriends down the road get problematic. That’s a big if. I don’t know about you but I’m not looking for a new relationship. If it comes up, we cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Adrien didn’t expect the pang in his stomach when she said she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Also, the idea of marrying this smart, vibrant woman – getting to be in her everyday life – quickly became something he didn’t think he could say no to if he wanted.

Apparently she wasn’t done talking. “I get that it feels like your dad’s controlling us. If we were strangers or something then I’d say absolutely not. But with us...it’s not how I pictured getting married, but I couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

It hit Adrien in the stomach how badly he wanted that. A family with Marinette, a future with Marinette. Waking up next to her every morning, cooking breakfast for her, watching her sketch and sew her designs, going on walks with their baby, holding her at night.

“Then let’s do this,” he agreed. “Let’s get married.”

He felt like the most selfish person in Paris.

Chapter 9

Ko-fi

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “From Above”

She fell from the sky. Literally. The Joker has no idea who Y/N is, but one thing's for sure: after the encounter his life will never be the same.

The loud splashing sound makes The Joker open his eyes only to see the pool water flooding the terrace, almost reaching the lounge chair he dozed off on.

“What the hell?...” he gets on his elbow, confused after being abruptly woken up.

The waves are starting to calm down a bit and J finally gets up from his spot, curious and intrigued about the shape he’s discerning on the bottom of the pool: there’s actually someone curled up in a ball, most likely a woman.

The protective, translucent barrier surrounding your body is already disintegrated by the time The Joker dives under the water to get you out. In a few seconds you are placed on the same chair he rested earlier, The King of Gotham increasingly pissed that the security downstairs didn’t do their job properly.

“Hey, hey!” he taps your shoulder, puzzled by the white, skin tight outfit you’re dressed with: every time he touches it there are small electrical charges following the complicated pattern of your outfit.

You faintly moan, slowly coming to your senses.

“Hey, wake up!” J insists while wondering if you’re one of the “fliers”, a term used for people thrown from planes: either they know too much or have to disappear for good. Mobsters would frequently use aircrafts in order to get rid of unwanted cargo; a little push at high altitude and the corpse would be found splattered all over the ground and often unidentifiable. Did that happened to you? Were you maybe lucky enough to have escape death by landing in his pool?...

The Joker grabs his cell from the tiny table by his deckchair, instantly yelling as soon as Frost picks up:

“Are you guys napping??? What am I paying you for, huh?? How did she sneak in?!!”

“Who sir?” the henchman replies, totally alert now that the boss seems in a very bad mood.

“The woman in the white outfit! How did she pass by unnoticed?! Or did you just let her in The Penthouse to see if I’m amused by your stunt?”

“Sir,” the goon defends himself and the team. “We patrolled the perimeter and I can tell without a doubt that we didn’t see a soul. We would contact you before sending someone to The Penthouse; we know the rules.”

“Do ya’???!!” J yells so loud you open your eyes. “Never mind!” he shrieks seeing the woman’s reaction. “I’ll take care of it!” he hangs up and throws the phone back on the table.

“You!” he pokes your waist, annoyed. “How did you get in here, hm? Who sent you?” the interrogation continues. “Where did you come from?”

He watches you direct your arm towards the night sky, your index finger pointing at the stars.

“Were you thrown from a jet?” he slams you against the cushions when you try to lift your head. “Answer me!” The Joker violently yanks at your hand.

You just glare at him, analyzing the strange man shouting things you don’t care about and it makes you happy.

“Oh!” you exclaim and he doesn’t have time to dodge when your arms go around his neck; the embrace is so unexpected it takes moments to recollect.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” J snaps out of it and shoves you away. “Don’t touch me!”

You frown and pout, upset he didn’t recognize you: how could he anyway? It’s been so many years and it appears life hasn’t been kind to him to begin with. The logic realization makes you smile and The Clown lets you touch his face simply because he plans to break your fingers for the transgression. You keep caressing his face and your fingers are still intact, but he’s going to snap them soon. Probably…

“Who are you?” The Joker growls, mad at himself for showing weakness: he didn’t hurt you yet and he sure feels the urge to shred you to pieces.

“Who’s that Mister J?!” Kira sulks and walks outside on the patio, jealous the man she spent the evening with has somebody else over. She heard the commotion from the master bedroom and since her partner wasn’t in bed she went searching for him. Only to find The Joker with another girl, apparently engaged in some kind of foreplay. Or at least that’s what she believes.

“I have no clue,” he snarls while distancing himself from the weird creature that landed in his life out of nowhere.

“Don’t lie Mister J,” Kira speculates on The Clown’s capability of twisting the truth all the time. “Is she your new toy?” the envious woman inquires.

“No,” and the simple reply is not even taken into consideration.

“It’s fine, I can work with that…You could have us both in the same time…” she seductively bites her lip since this is the only solution separating her from being chased out of the premises. “Just let me stay…yes?”

“Stop talking and go to sleep!!!” he lashes out because he’s fed up with the blabbermouth: J has more important matters to attend than a resentful, casual escapade.

“Is she a dominatrix or something? I could get a latex suit for you also if you’re into that,” she continues to gamble on his patience when in fact he definitely had enough.

“GET. YOUR.ASS. inside,” he mutters through his clenched jaw, “or I’ll make you!”

He is definitely angry and Kira halts her tirade, aware she’s walking on pins and needles.

“Hey, where are you going?!” The King of Gotham inquires when you suddenly jump of the seat before he can pin you down. You run by Kira and barge in, your wet hair dripping all over the expensive rugs in the Penthouse.

“What is she doing?” the lady asks a worked up Joker rushing after you.  

You keep on running around the huge living room, touching and marveling at all the extravagant decorations scattered around the place.

“Oh!!!” you keep on exclaiming and the odd behavior makes The Joker forget his temper and watch the scene with a painful grimace.

Out of the blue, a deafening noise shakes the Penthouse; a few windows crack and car alarms start blaring on the streets nearby.

Already? you think and stomp towards The Joker, grab his hand and drag him outdoors again.

“Let go!” he slaps your arm when your white outfit glows with such intensity he has to squint his eyes: your free hand reaches for the sky and he instinctively looks up; there’s something enormous shining above Gotham with lights rhythmically pulsating each time you take another step.

“Mister J, w-what is that?” Kira gestures at the eerie apparition and shrugs in fear when the pool water is ascending towards the invisible force acting like a magnet for the strong beam of incandescence illuminating the atmosphere.

Although it’s not necessary, you cling to the man you came for because he must be paralyzed by now: the flash always has this effect on first timers.

“Don’t be scared!” you reassure J, “I’m here to save you!” it’s the last sentence he discerns as both bodies float in the air towards the ship meant to get you out of there before it’s too late. “Don’t faint!” you try to keep him conscious but The Joker blacks out immediately, not used to the advanced technology he is privileged to experience.

**************

He groans in his dream, continuing to gaze at the transparent panels depicting stars and darkness steadily moving in the vast space. Maybe if he closes his eyes really tight and reopens them, he’ll be able to wake up from the bizarre hallucination.

Nope, it didn’t work.

“I’m in a padded cell at Arkham…I’m in a padded cell at Arkham…” he deeply inhales, repeating the words meant to aid him recover from the sluggish state he’s in. J manages to bring his fingers close to his face, not even noticing the tattoos on his hand are gone: the shimmering white attire he’s dressed with sticks out, adding to his astonishment. “Shit,” The Joker reprises his words, believing his brain is playing tricks on him: “I’m in a padded cell at Arkham…”

“You’re not in a padded cell at Arkham,” the woman’s firm yet calming tone informs and he turns his head instead of just looking up at the translucent ceiling: the sluggish state he’s in is starting to diminish, panic taking over.

“Where am I?” J mutters, his erratic breathing escalating the more he remembers about what occurred yesterday, unaware it was six days ago.

“Please calm down,” you smile and he attempts to stand up without success. “I know how it feels, I’ve been there before. Just take deep breaths and exhale, OK? You were in The Inc.Ubator for days but the process finally ended.”

“The…the what?” The Joker pants and you have to distract him otherwise he will hyperventilate shortly and it won’t help the situation.

“The Inc.Ubator fixes everything that’s wrong with someone at molecular level,” you press on his chest to assess his irregular heartbeat. “Do you sense a certain clarity in your thoughts? Like, they are not scrambled and distorted?”

J has no idea about the involved circumstances that lead to his redemption, but he’s about to find out.  

“I’m not sure,” he justly concludes. “I think I completely lost my mind and I’m delirious.”

You chuckle at his affirmation since that’s what you thought also when you were saved by THEM 23 years ago.

“You didn’t lose your mind, I can assure you of the opposite: it’s fixed now. I’m sorry about the tattoos, teeth and hair though.The Inc.Ubator reads them as anomalies that shouldn’t be there: it follows biological imprints stored in its memory for each species, removing and repairing stuff that shouldn’t be there. Wanna see?” you offer to help him up and once on his feet you guide the dumbfounded Joker to one of the panels that reflects back as a mirror as soon as you draw a circle on its surface.

“Oh my God!” he covers his mouth in disbelief at the unusual sight: he has no more green hair, pale skin or tattoos; he looks exactly how he is supposed to look like without the Ace Chemicals incident. NORMAL.

“What did you do to me?” he fakely grins only to see white teeth instead of his silver ones.

“Not me, The Inc.Ubator; it’s an honor to be chosen as survivor of a dying world,” you draw the circle and the screen transforms back into the clear panel granting the two humans a visual of what is going outside the interstellar vessel.

“That’s Earth,” you point at a humongous cloud of debris in the distance. “What’s left of it…” Y/N’s voice dims at the visual. “The core had a surge in temperature and the globe imploded right before I took you. No warning for the people, nothing to stop it.  But THEY saved us from that…”

The Joker has a hard time comprehending the insane concepts thrown at him, yet he finds the strength to utter:

“Who’s THEY?”

“Enhanced beings traveling around the Universe and collecting mementos of extinct planets. THEY can’t intervene, their laws forbid it,” you pause to sniffle. “THEY predict when catastrophe will strike and  rescue a few samples before annihilation.”

J nervously digs his nails in your suit, unsettled by the news:

“So you’re one of them?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I���m from Earth, part of the First Wave they saved several years ago.”

“Why was I selected?” the former Clown Prince of Crime demands an explanation and he’s enlightened with the answer.

“Now that your mind was gifted back to you, do you recall the orphanage?”

His sudden silence confirms he does.

“Do you remember the mute little girl you used to play with?”

His eyes get big and you continue:

“You never made fun of me and my disability like so many other kids did,” you sadly recollect. “You always shared the sweets you stole from the kitchen and protected me from the boys that used to tease me. You didn’t know sign language but we understood each other, didn’t we?” your eyes get teary at the emotional past.

“… … Y/N?... “ J articulates the name he didn’t say since he was a child.

You nod a yes and provide more details to the stunned man standing next to you:

“I’m sure you also remember I disappeared. I didn’t. I was simply taken by THEM and brought here where The Inc.Ubator mended my handicap: that’s why I can talk. When THEY decided to save a few more before the disaster, I was urged to pick someone: the young boy that was so kind to me was the only one that stood out from my old existence. Thanks to their technology I was able to track you down and come get you,” you start sobbing and intertwine his fingers with yours. “I’m glad I had the chance to return the favor my dear friend,” you bury your face in his shoulder, incapable of letting go.

And the changed Joker squeezes you closer to him, shocked at the craziness that followed the first encounter with the lost and forgotten childhood friend. He doesn’t know what the future holds, but one thing’s for sure: his life will never be the same.

Also read: Masterlist

diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Wattpad and AO3 under the same blog name: DiYunho

[writerrain]

You Must Forge Your Own Path -Chapter 1

You can find this fic on AO3

Summary:

When the Golden Fleece is stolen from Camp Half-blood, Chiron sends his best team to retrieve it. The days go by fast, and the Greek demigods ask the Romans for help.

Will Barry Allen, young scout from New Rome, be able to help his new friends? Or will he be too distracted by someone with pretty blue eyes?

Characters: Barry Allen, Leonard Snart, Charlie, Sara Lance, Zari Tomaz, Mick Rory, Ray Palmer, Nate Heywood, Jax Jackson, Martin Stein

Tags: Percy Jackson au

Many thanks to @areyouscarletcold for all her help.

Chapter 1 - Barry

Barry loved the feeling of running through the woods. He had always loved it, since before joining the Legion, since before his mum had died and his father disappeared from New Rome. Before vanishing, his is father always said that Barry's love for running was due to the fact that he was a legacy of Mercury, but the kid liked to think that it was something his , not something that had been determined by a godly relative (in this case, his maternal grandfather).

Barry had been a scout of the Legion for years now, but running surrounded by trees never got old. Barry loved the smell of the woods, the feeling of the sun and then the cool shade flashing on his skin as he dashed from patches of light to the shadows. He felt thrilled, he never knew what he was going to see (even if mostly it was simply trees and the occasional animal, rarely a laughing Dryad). With the wind blowing into his hair he felt free. He felt like he was on an adventure.

Little did he know what an adventure that would be.

Barry was a good scout, which was why the Legion had decided to send him to help Camp Half-Blood to retrieve the Golden Fleece. The camp of Greek demigods had been protected from monsters by the Fleece, but it had disappeared a couple of weeks before. They had sent one of their best teams to look for it, but it was yet to be located and brought back. After discussing the situation with Mr. D extensively, Chiron had asked the Romans for help, and that was where Barry came into the game. Well, not only Barry, more like Barry and his team, but in that moment Barry felt alone.

It wasn't, however, a bad feeling, because it actually felt like he was at peace with the world. Barry loved nature, it calmed him, which was why when he was a child, when he felt particularly sad, he had often run away from Joe's house in the city to run in the woods just outside New Rome. It had been reckless, but it had been worth it: thanks to this “training”, Barry had become the great scout he was, and at such a young age, since he was almost eighteen.

All of a sudden, Barry became aware of something wrong in front of him, something unusual, and unusual was never a good thing for a demigod. There was something strange with the shadows. They were swirling, contorting, darkening. Barry was running too fast to stop, though. That was one of his many defects: he was always too fast for his own good.

Barry run straight into the shadows. And, to his surprise, he hit something solid.

The collision made him stumble and fall on his ass, yelping an “Ow!” so unmanly his egregious grandfather would scold him for it. Not that he had ever seen Mercury (or was he planning to), but Roman gods were usually pretty keen on wanting their offsprings to be as strong and brave as possible. The entire education kids received in New Rome was based on this concept: everyone had to be capable of handling emotions, any of them, even fear and surprise.

Yet, Barry's yell concealed neither.

“Is this the best they could send from New Rome?” a velvety voice asked, and Barry looked up to see...

… To see the most beautiful pair of blue eyes he had ever seen. Scratch that, those eyes were even prettier than Iris's, and she had the warmest eyes in the entire city, and Barry loved them so much...

Anyway, these eyes were different, colder, calculating, yet Barry knew that he could lose himself in them. He was also aware of the fact that he was gaping.

The eyes belonged to a young man who was towering over Barry, but the runner was almost sure that if he had been standing up their heights wouldn't be much different. The man was wearing a black shirt, mimetic cargo pants, and combat boots. He looked like a mortal soldier thanks to the outfit and a buzzcut, but the long-sword on his back betrayed him for a demigod.

Barry stared for a bit at the hilt of the sword. It was black, as dark as night, with a sapphire at the bottom; for the life of him, Barry couldn't tell which material it was made of. In New Rome they mainly used Imperial Gold, and he was pretty sure that the Greek used Celestial Bronze, yet that sword was clearly no bronze at all. Not recognizing the sword made him feel a tad uneasy.

Also, Barry realized that while he had been staring at the man and his sword, some time had passed (yes, Barry was quick on his feet and he was pretty fast in maths and chemistry, but his social skills were as slow as a sloth's).

“Speak for yourself! Did the Greek send a stalker to look for the Fleece?”

(A socially awkward sloth).

The guy raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I'm one of the Greeks?”

“What makes you think I'm one of the Romans?” Barry remarked.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the t-shirt with SPQR written on that you are wearing, Scarlet.” The man pointed at Barry's red tee, and he felt himself blushing a bit. The guy had a good point.

“And you have a sword?” Barry didn't sound very convincing.

The guy rolled his eyes. “You won't go far if you trust every creepy guy with a sword that you meet in the woods.” The guy sounded like a snarky asshole, but at least he was kind enough to extend his hand to help Barry get up from the grass.

“I'm Barry,” the grandchild of Mercury said, once he was standing on his two feet, shaking the hand that the man had given him.

The guy rolled his eyes again. “You do trust the first creepy guy with a sword that you meet in the woods, huh?”

Barry chuckled. “You're not the first creepy guy with a sword that I met in the woods.”

The guy smirked, but Barry interpreted it as a smile.

“I'm Len.”

Barry smiled back, and he was sure he was smiling dumbly because gods, those eyes are beautiful , but a rustle coming from the trees behind Len made him grip tightly the dagger he had tied to his belt, ready for a fight.

From the woods came out a beautiful young woman with dark skin and an attire Barry thought would be more suitable for a punk concert than a stroll into the woods. Gods, are all the Greeks so damn hot? Barry asked himself, as the woman approached. Barry couldn't really say how old she could have been. She looked his age, but something in her eyes betrayed that she could be older. She looked wise beyond her years, yet there was some mischief in her twinkling dark eyes and in her little smirk. She looked dangerous, and Barry felt slightly intimidated by her.

“You know you shouldn't use shadow-travel too much,” she scolded Len, sounding concerned, but then the woman moved her gaze to Barry, analysing him. She had a strong British accent, which Barry found weird to say the least, but he had seen some pretty unusual stuff in his life, an unexpected British accent in a forest in Florida wasn’t something surprising anymore.

Len rolled his eyes. “I was just greeting our new friend Barry here.” He pointed to Barry, who awkwardly smiled at the pretty lady.

“Barry, this is Charlie, but don't gape too much because she is taken,” Len jocked, and Barry felt himself blush again. Had he really been staring at the Greeks that much? “Charlie, this is Barry the Roman.”

Barry shot a look at Len, who smirked again.

“Oh, I bet getting to know you is gonna be a pleasure.” Charlie winked, and Len shook his head. Barry couldn't do much but blush.

“Where are the others?” Charlie continued. “We heard you approaching so our captain sent us to look for you. I'm pretty sure the Romans didn't send only one guy, did they?”

“My friends will be here shortly.” Barry looked at his watch. “Ten minutes tops.”

Charlie nodded. “Let's wait them at our camp then, it's close.”

Barry followed Len and Charlie into the woods. The three demigods walked silently to their destination, even if Charlie and Len seemed to be having a wordless conversation of their own. After a few feet, Barry heard what could only be sounds from the camp... which was a lot louder than he thought it would be.

It was a camp in the woods! It wasn't safe to be that loud! Hello? There were monsters around! What were the Greeks thinking?

In the middle of the camp there was a plastic table, and a broad guy and a tiny blond girl were sitting there, ready to arm wrestle, Barry noticed, while four other loud demigods were already cheering and making bets. An older guy with glasses was sitting in the back on a camping chair, looking half amused and half annoyed by the unprofessionalism of his team.

“What the –” was all Barry could say, before Charlie sprinted towards the couple. As soon as they saw her getting closer, the people cheering welcomed her, asking if she was going to place a bet too.

“What are you doing, Sara?” Len asked, after a sigh. He sounded like a concerned big brother to Barry.

The blond girl rolled her eyes, and then she gestured to the broad guy to take her hand. Immediately, the cheering grew in volume. Someone whistled.

“Mick was being annoying again,” the blond girl, Sara, replied, smiling innocently at Len.

“Can't you behave for two minutes while I'm gone, Mick?” Len sounded more amused than concerned while talking to the guy. After a second look, Barry decided that Mick was one scary dude, and that Sara girl had to be out of her mind to think about arm-wrestling with him.

Mick snorted. “If Blondie here wants her hand broken for the rest of the quest, it's not my fault.”

“What did you do to anger Sara?” Charlie looked like she was having the time of her life.

“Just commented that it must suck to be so short,” Mick answered, and then he returned his attention to Sara. “Ready?”

“Are you kidding me?” Charlie huffed. “I’ve been trying to get under Sara's skin with creative insults, like calling her 'stuck up', for ages, and it's calling her short that makes her snap?”

“Shut up, Charlie,” Sara replied, in a monotone voice, as if she had been saying the exact three words for two weeks.

“See!”

“Poor Charlie.” A cute girl with an ink-black ponytail and a flashy necklace winked at her, blowing a kiss in her direction.

“Thanks babe.”

Apparently, the cute girl with dark hair was the first – and only- one to notice Barry, and she waved at him. “You found a Roman in the woods?”

“Yep,” Charlie popped the p, finally getting close enough to what Barry realized was her girlfriend, by the way she hugged her.

“Hi, I'm –” Barry started to say, but before he could finish the sentence Sara ordered a “Say hi to the new guy.”

There was a not so heartfelt chorus of “Hello!”, then everyone returned their attention to Mick and Sara.

“On my mark,” Charlie’s girlfriend said, grinning at Sara and Mick.

“Ready. Set... Go!”

As the arm-wrestling match started, Barry smiled to himself. This group looked extremely disorganized, they were loud and a bit rude, and evidently they needed all the help possible to complete the mission, but they were a fun bunch, or at least that was his first impression. Barry thought about Oliver, his praetor, and how horrified he would be by the entire scene, but Barry just wanted to laugh alongside the others, despite not knowing them well.

As it turned out, the match was pretty short, with Sara almost dislocating Mick's wrist. Len rolled his eyes, whispering something Barry didn't understand because of all the voices around them.

Once the cheering was over, Sara went to Barry, extending her hand.

Barry shook it, smiling. “Barry Allen, from the Fifth Cohort.”

“Sara Lance, captain of the Legends.” She gestured around her to her teammates, smiling proud.

“Legends? Do people call you that or... is it something you guys say? Because that would be very lame.”

Sara and the others laughed at his words, but when she looked back at him, Barry saw something sad behind her eyes.

“Let's say that's what a lost friend used to call us.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Barry felt like an idiot for having asked. Life as a demigod was not easy, and he knew that especially the Greeks' life expectancy was pretty low.

In the meantime, the youngest of the group, no older than fifteen, had gotten closer to them. “He called us that because our adventures are usually legendary. Because nothing ever goes as it should.” The boy grinned, earning himself a playful punch on the shoulder from Sara.

“This little runt is Jax.” She smiled at him, and Barry noticed how close they were, kind of like siblings. “You already met Charlie and Len.” Sara pointed at the two other demigods, who had both moved to mix with the rest of the group.

Sara pointed at the two guys Len was standing next to. “Those are Mick the sore loser and his boyfriend Ray.”

Mick grumbled something, but Ray greeted Barry with a cheerful “Welcome!”, then he promptly returned to fuss over his boyfriend's wrist.

“The one standing next to Charlie is her girlfriend Zari, while our personal grumpy old man back there is Jax's brother, Martin.”

Zari waved, still hugging Charlie, who had a happy smirk on her lips, while Martin, who was clearly the oldest of the demigods, probably close to his thirties, went to shake Barry's hand.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Barry.”

“While Nate is – where the hell is Nate?” Sara turned to Jax for an explanation.

“He's looking for a bit of ambrosia, he's afraid you broke Mick's wrist.”

Both Sara and Mick rolled their eyes at the same time, and that made Barry grin.

“I bet this is fairly different from what you're used to.” Len – when had he snuck up next to Barry? – had a eyebrow raised in question.

“Len, stop using shadow-travel to sneak up on people!” Sara scolded him, but then the girl saw Nate reappearing from the trees where he had put his supplies and she moved towards him to scold him too. Barry guessed she had to be the mother of the group more than the captain.

“Shadow-travel?”

Len shrugged at the question. “One of the many perks of having the Lord of the Dead as a father, I guess.”

That didn't answer Barry's question, since he still had no idea what shadow-travel was, but he nodded anyway.

“This looks like a nice team,” Barry commented, looking at the demigods in front of him, all chatting enthusiastically as if they weren’t in the middle of the woods, while on an important mission.

“It's a bit chaotic sometimes, but they're all a good bunch. Funnier than the Romans, I bet.” Len smirked, looking at Barry as if asking to prove him wrong.

“Speaking of which... my team should be here by now. I am a fast runner, but they should have arrived. They are on a chariot with horses.”

A dark feeling crept in Barry's chest. Where was his team? What was taking Cisco, Caitlin, Iris, and Wells so long? Had they been attacked by a monster? Barry had seen none while running, but now he wasn't sure anymore. Maybe he should have run slower, to keep more attention at his surroundings. It was his job, wasn't it?

“Hey kid, I'm sure nothing bad happened to them.” Len put his hand on Barry's shoulder, grounding him. Without even realizing it, he had almost let himself drift into panic, and the warm hand on his shoulder helped him ground himself and his thoughts.

“You sure?” Barry's voice was barely a whisper, but Len heard him anyway, and nodded in answer.

Sara had witnessed the exchange despite being pretty far from them, and acted accordingly.

“Don't worry, Barry. They're probably having some trouble finding us. Charlie, do you mind looking for them while we wait here?”

Charlie snorted in annoyance, but she detached herself from Zari's embrace, gave a mock salute and then she transformed into a jaguar, and then she sprinted back into the forest.

“Oh my gods!” Barry squawked, making Len chuckle.

“Charlie is a descendant of Periclymenus, which means she can turn into any animal she wants,” Len explained, and when he started to talk Barry realized he was still gaping, so he closed his mouth. Also, Len still had his hand on Barry's shoulder, and Barry started to blush because of how close they still were. Gods, those eyes were really gorgeous.

“That's pretty cool.” Barry had no idea if she was talking about Charlie's shapeshifting or Len's eyes, if he was honest with himself.

“Yeah, it is, but don't tell her I said it. Her ego is already big enough as it is.”

Barry felt scrutinized by Len's blue eyes. It was like the other demigod was looking directly into his soul. Which, for all he knew could be exactly what was going on. Hades dealt with souls, right? So maybe his children could actually see souls. Barry had to ask at some point.

“Would it make you calmer if I went looking for your team too?” Len asked after a long pause.

Barry wanted to make a joke, because Len had sounded extremely entitled, but he was too worried about his friends, so he welcomed the proposal.

“If it's not a problem... that would really help, thanks.”

Len turned to Sara, waiting for her order. The blond girl just nodded, even if she didn't look too happy about Len's idea, and before Barry could understand what was going on, Len moved his hand from Barry's shoulder and his figure blended with the shadow of the trees, and the guy disappeared.

[randomwordsandstormydays]

The One Where Liam Starts To Remember

This is the first thing I’ve written for my OC Liam Harper. Enjoy!

TW: graphic depictions of violence

Liam knows that the harvest is not going to be plentiful this year. He can tell based off of the way the newly planted tatos refuse to take hold of the dirt with their tiny roots, and by the way that they wilt during the day. The humidity is too much this year, every single one of his plots is struggling, and there isn’t much he can do to stop it. Even the razorgrain refuses to bloom properly, and Liam laments the fact that he’s going to have to dip into his caps stash to keep himself fed this year.

Nonetheless he hums to himself as he works, a happy tune that keeps his spirits up. It’s a song his mother used to sing to him during bad weather, when the rad-storms beat heavily against the wooden walls of his room and threatened to flood his home. It’s tedious work, tending to his field and plots, but it’s work that he’s done his entire life, learning the skills of the trade from his father, so he doesn’t have to focus very hard. The repetitive motion of digging, planting, and watering brings him comfort, he’s focused on his crops when a noise from behind his house startles him.

Quickly he raises onto his feet and lifts his pistol, aiming at the sound. His heart thuds violently as a slew of raiders appears from inside his home.

“Lovely house you have here,” one of the raiders shouts, “and quite the farm, too.”

A few of the other men and women echo cries of ‘yeah’ and ‘damn right’ as they stalk forward, their delight terrifies him.

“How about you pay us a tribute, and we let you keep your hands?” The threat is tossed out like a friendly invitation, instead of the demand that it really is.

The gun is steady in his hands, but nervousness is dancing across his skin. It’s not very often that he has to deal with raiders, his farm is secluded enough and small enough that the through traffic is usually light and enemy free. These men and women must be desperate if they’re here for what little he has, which means that he’s likely to lose. One versus six isn’t very good odds, and Liam knows he doesn’t have the fighting experience necessary to win. Still, he’s not going to let them take his home away, he’ll die before that happens.

He still hasn’t responded when the raider continues. “Listen, just give up and we won’t hurt you.” The words sound familiar, sparking a vague sense of deja vu through him, but before Liam can focus on the sensation, a sharp pain spikes inside of his head. He fumbles, wincing hard against the hurt that is slowly leaking across his skull.

In his moment of weakness, the raiders strike.

He’s cognizant of them grabbing his arms and throwing him to the ground, but all he can feel is the pain crackling and burning inside of him. Flashes of memories dance at the very edge of his consciousness, nothing enough for him to hold on to, but enough to confuse him. He sees pure white walls, dark leather coats, angry looking men in reflective sunglasses. With each new scene and memory the roaring agony increases until he can’t even feel the dirt underneath him, until he can no longer hear the raiders stealing him life’s work, until he no longer remembers his own name.

Eventually, the sensations overwhelm him, and he falls unconscious. The last thing he recalls is a scared looking woman, calling him X7-98 and begging him not to turn her in to some place called the SRB.

Liam comes to slowly, groaning from the soreness of his body and the lingering pain inside of his head. A glance a the sky reveals that the sun is setting, he’s lost most of his day. His arms shake as he pushes himself onto his feet, his body still hasn’t recovered from the assault and his knees pop as he stands.

Disappointment settles heavy in his gut as he takes in the sight of his destroyed garden. His tato plants have been ripped out at the root, his melons are smashed, and his razorgrain is shredded into little shards. Weeks of worth, destroyed in a day. It’ll take him all night to even begin to put a dent in the mess that they left him.

His only blessing is that the raiders didn’t kill him, or paralyze him.

As he’s staring out at his destroyed homestead he begins to remember the scenes that flashed through his mind before he passed out. Nowhere in the Commonwealth is that clean, pure white, no dirt, no blood, not even a single piece of trash. It all must have been some sort of weird dream. Right? Except that woman had looked so real, seemed so familiar. He tries to focus on her face, and as details come into focus a name sticks out to him: Ella. Her name is Ella.

She looked so desperate in his memories, gray eyes wide with fear, and that fear was directed at him. Liam shook the images away, they can’t be real. He’s been a farmer his entire life, and only settled in the Commonwealth a few years ago, he doesn’t know an Ella, and no one has ever looked at him life he’d hurt them before. Still, that night, he dreams of her.

Fall comes sooner than anyone expects and there hasn’t been enough time for Liam to fully restock the supplies that were stolen from him. He finds comfort in the fact that the caravaners that come by are friendly, and slip him some extra food when they hear of his assault. Mentally he makes a note to pay them back next season, for now he works on preparing himself dinner.

As he rotates the kebab of squirrel bits over the fire another memory hits him, fast and hard, just like the first time. He only has enough wits about him to keep from pitching into the fire before the pain overtakes him once more. This time he recognizes the area around him, downtown Boston, near the river. He sees himself standing over a man, and for some reason he knows that the man is a synth, although he doesn’t know why he knows.

“Please, please just let me go.” Liam clamps his hands around the man’s neck and lifts him from the ground.

“N7-99, you are to be-”

“My name is Ethan!” Even though the grip around his throat is crushing, the man still manages to shout. “My name is Ethan and I refuse to go back!”

“Do not make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

Ethan spits in his face and Liam slams his skull into the ground, knocking him out. He then lifts a hand to the communicator on his wrist. “X7-98, requesting relay back with reclaimed synth N7-99.”

The memory fades, leaving feelings of anger and regret behind. Liam sits up and pushes himself away from the fire, grabbing his now-charred dinner as he goes. It’s been a few months since the first memory, long enough that he had started to wonder if it had all been some sort of crazy dream brought on by a sharp blow from one of the raiders. Now, as he recalls the way Ethan’s throat had felt in his hands, he knows that it was real. And the most recent memory seems to imply that, not only was he a synth, but that he was also a Courser that they sent to reclaim the synths that managed to escape.

That or he’s going absolutely crazy, which seems just as plausible.

Feeling sick, and no longer hungry, he chucks his dinner into the fire pit and heads inside. Tomorrow he’ll look for answers, tonight he just wants to forget everything. He grabs a bottle of whiskey as he drops onto his mattress, takes a long swig, and then lays down. He falls asleep, drowning in both alcohol and false memories.

---

If you want to read more about my OCs click here to go back to my masterlist.

[guillotinedangel]

Day 01. RESET

Based on the January 2019 prompt list published by @downwithwritersblock

The future is now.

Author: @blackpaladintshirogane

Ship: Klance

Characters: Keith, Lance, Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor.

Warning: S8 spoilers, offensive language.

Summary: During a BOM benefic delivery, Keith encounters a rebel resistance Galra group that attacks him an puts his life in jeopardy. Fearing he may die anytime even thought the war is over, he flies to Altea to find Lance and confess his feelings.

Song:

"Keith, do you copy?"

Acxa's voice sounded, worried, on the other side of the comms. She had been trying for a while now to reach her captain, but there was no sign of him since he had gone down to the planet they were currently in, looking for signs of life they could help.

Now that the war was over, the Blade of Marmora had been renewed. They were still incredible skilled warriors but now their duties had been changed to deliver help to the places in the Universe that had been affected by the battles and the destruction. They usually did not have any trouble but today it had been different and Keith, who always took the responsibility of patrolling the area before landing, was not answering his team's call.

"Maybe we should go down ourselves, just in case" Ezor suggested, also worried by the lack of answer.

"Give the little one a bit more time. He's tough" Zethrid added.

"This is weird"

Acxa worked on the ship's panel of control, trying to look for anything she could possibly do, but she got jack.

Meanwhile, on the ground , Keith was running for his life.

Panting, with his lungs already aching every time he gasped for air, the boy was trying to escape his persecutors, who he could hear, yelling to each other, only a few steps behind him.

The attack had taken him by surprise, but, still, he was punishing himself for being so careless. If he hadn't been agile enough, his blood would be painting a beautiful canvas on the rocky landscape of the planet.

It had been Garla, nonetheless, the ones who had tried to kill him. Maybe that was the reason why he was running and not fighting back: the shock he had upon seeing the purple skinned soldiers, referring to him as paladin of Voltron, even though it had been years since the lions had abandoned them.

"Acxa!! Ezor!! Zethrid!! Somebody!? Do you copy me!?" he shouted over the comms between gasps, but the plain and cold static answered him.

Tired already, desperately trying to reach his team for help, Keith did not see the rift splitting the ground in two at his feet and he fell right on it, with a cry of pain, hitting his ribs on the ledge and spraining his right ankle on the deep hole. Soon enough, he was able to feel the warm blood running, tickling his skin under his tight suit.

He struggled to get himself out, not caring about injuring himself even more, but in vain. The rift was shallow but too narrow, so he was trapped on it. Little was worth all his screaming and cursing, and then a shadow hovered over him and the click of a gun and an evil laugh reached his ears.

"Look at you. The mighty Red Paladin, trapped like a rat in a hole on the ground. Pathetic"

"Fuck you" Keith growled , angryly, which earned him a kick on the head that made him spit blood out of his mouth.

"Shut it, and try not to keep spilling blood over my new skin trophy. Now. You're gonna be a good boy, and tell us where the rest of your team is"

"What are you even barking about? Haven't you heard the war is over?"

Keith could almost hear how the big warrior gritted his sharp teeth.

"We know, but you worms are still alive. That's insulting to us, to the memory of our great Emperor Zarkon. You destroyed it all!! We want our revenge!!"

"Then get me out of here and I'll show you the blade Zarkon tasted!!"

His words had the effect required and the soldier grabbed Keith by his neck and raised him in the air and out of the rift like a flower out of its soil, to throw him on the ground under his feet with anger. The boy twisted in pain to the impact. He probably had a few ribs broken.

"I'll break every single bone in your tiny body"

"Fuck you" Keith cursed again at him, but before the soldier could even point his gun at him, he was brought down alongside his companions by three figures that appeared out of nowhere.

"Keith!!" Acxa shouted, upon seeing her captain on the floor, the blood starting to shine through the dark fabric of the suit.

The three warriors ran to help him.

"The blade Zarkon tasted?? Do you have a death wish? " Zethrid faced him while Acxa and Ezor inspectioned his wounds.

"Stupid human" Acxa mumbled between her teeth, "It wasn't even you who finished Zarkon. It was Lotor"

"Who cares. I had to win some time and it worked, right? " Keith whispered, feeling how the exhaustion was starting to catch up to his muscles and brain.

"They were going to kill you!"

"No. I can't... I can't die. I have to do something first"

"Yeah? Like what?"

____________________________________________

The day had dawned sunny and warm, and Lance was heading for the orchard to take care of his crops, with one of the altean kids that lived alongside him and other alien families on the farm he had retired to after the war was over, seeking peace of mind and relaxation after all the stress and fear that it had brought upon them. What he did not expect to receive were the news of the arrival of a stranger warrior out of the mouth of another of the children that were running around, and even less it being Keith in the flesh.

"Wow, that mullet gets worse with the years" Lance jokingly said as soon as his former partner was close enough to hear him.

Keith laughed to his words, but he merely managed to scoff. His broken ribs pained him too much to actually burst a laughter and, even though he tried to hide it, he was limping. Also, Lance knew him all too well.

"Are you okay?" the Cuban asked, with a worried look on his blue eyes.

"Just a mission that went wrong. Nothing to worry about"

Lance raised an eyebrow.

"A mission? I thought the Blade was doing humanitarian work now?"

"Um, yeah we do..." Keith wondered his eyes away from Lance's, "But I... Found myself with some old glories that recognized me. And they weren't nice to me"

"Okay, you're coming with me now. You need to lay down"

Keith half smiled upon seeing Lance's face, frowning with a troubled look. He would have tried to argue with him over it, but he knew there would be no way to make him desist, so he followed his friend to his home, were Lance made him lay on a very comfortable couch while he made some hot coffee.

"There you go" he said, offering him a cup, "Now would you tell me why you're here? Do you need a place to heal your wounds? You can stay if you want"

The offering took Keith by surprise. He hadn't even thought about that possibility.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah! We have plenty of room here and I could use..." Lance stopped himself before saying what was roaming his mind and blushed to the very thought of even telling Keith what he actually wanted to say, "You'd be welcome"

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"The sentence you didn't finish" Keith teased him, accommodating himself on the couch.

"Stay on your back" Lance ordered him in a soft voice, avoiding the question at the same time.

"I'll stay if you make me"

"Wha... What?"

Lance's face lighted up like a lighthouse and Keith smiled softly at him.

"I came here for a reason, Lance. I... I almost died in this mission--"

"You what!?"

"Let me finish! Dammit! Those soldiers almost killed me and the thing is... I could not stop thinking about... About how much I regretted not visiting you more often. Not... Talking to you since months ago. Not being by your side"

"What do you mean with all that, Keith?"

"Fuck! Lance!" Keith snapped, making a pinch of pain flood his chest on the process, "I'm not good with this feelings shit..."

The Cuban boy smiled.

"You mean to tell me you missed me, mullet?" Lance asked with a cheeky grin.

"Yes but, not only that"

Keith's cheeks started to dye red as he spoke. He wanted to shout it at Lance, but what if his friend did not feel the same?

Suddenly Lance raised from his seat and approached him, kneeling by his side, on the floor.

"What else then?" he asked with shiny eyes, placing his hand on Keith's knee. His altean marks seemed to flash for a second.

"I... I was scared, Lance. I thought I'd die and I'd never see you again. I'd never get to tell you that... Fuck... That I love you, dammit. That's it, I said it, now you can reject me or hate me if you want"

Keith stared into the black liquid that filled his mug, trying to ignore the feeling of crying that was crowling its way up his chest. He was regretting his words right now. Lance was still probably mourning Allura. He could see it on his eyes every year when they met before her statue to remember her. There was still love shinning in them.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have--"

But his words died on his throat as Lance leaned forward and pressed his lips against his', catching him by surprise.

"I love you too" the boy answered, breaking the kiss after a few seconds.

Warm tears streamed down Keith's cheeks, releasing all the pressure he had been feeling inside. Lance ran quick to hug him.

"Careful" Keith said between sobs, "My ribs"

"Sorry" Lance tried to pull back, but Keith wrapped him with one arm and pulled him back to his chest.

"I don't care about the pain. I just need you close now"

They stayed like that in silence for a few minutes until Lance broke the silence.

"You think it's too late to join the Blade?"

"What?"

"Well this calm life... Is driving me nuts. I wanna go back up there. With you"

Keith smiled wide and planted a quick kiss on Lance's lips.

"I guess I can find a suit for my sharpshooter"

–Chimera.

[iammarylastar]

It’s Halloween, time for ghosts and horror stories.

Here’s a one shot, requested by @jaicourtneyseyes, who wanted me to write something inspired by the pic above. Blame her for this story, it’s the darkest thing I’ve ever written!

WARNING: IT’S DARK, LIKE VERY DARK!

Murder, suicide, child abuse, and madness... Read with caution!

MAD

He shivered and pulled up the collar of his overcoat, this cold ass of a wind had been freezing to the bones for the latest 3 weeks. That damn fall was early, his luck. Yeah, fucking bad luck.

He left home in such a hurry he didn't think to grab something warmer. Like the circumstances let him think. He just had hugged his wife, his face buried in the crook of her neck, crying his damn soul out, until her body turned cold. Until her usual heady, honeyed smell vanished, death slowly creeping under her skin. Her cold, bluish skin.

He shaked his head, fighting to erase those nightmarish images from behind his lids. Beth. Charlotte. His baby girl, Charlie. The two loves of his life. All dead. The three of them. He died the day Charlie died. The pain ripping off his skin without an ounce of mercy. Skinning him alive, crashing his heart with such violence nothing was left. That's why finding the corpse of her wife, the lifeless body of his beloved Beth in the middle of the living room, didn't kill him. He was already dead. He, they, have been dead for 2 months already. He even wasn't surprised when he came home, his previously warm home, welcomed only by silence and coldness. The laughter and happiness that he was used to when calling he was home, have disappeared months ago. He barely flinched when his tired eyes spotted his wife, spread on the floor, surrounded by empty bottles of pills. The antidepressants supposed to bring her back to life just ended it. At least, she was in peace then, he thought. That unbearable suffering, that open wound in her heart finally had stopped.

Lucky her. He had thought to join her, just a flash, just for a second. They would have been reunited again, in Heaven or wherever they laid at this moment. It could have been so easy, the bottles that exploded under his feet as he walked up to her were empty but he knew there were more. Antidepressants, anxiolytics, barbiturates and sleeping pills overfilled the medicine cabinet, upstairs in the bathroom, and the drawer of her nightstand. A handful of random pills downed with whiskey and he would sleep forever. Wrapped into his strong but forceless arms, the body he had cherished for 8 years, he had stroked and kissed, he had made love to with so much passion, that body which had bore his child, their child, which had brought Charlotte into this world, was heavy and cold as a stone. He had rocked her, surprised to have more tears to cry. He thought he had cried his eyes out in front of the two cops who rang his bell that morning, to coyly announced them Charlie had been found. Painfully told him and Beth that their baby girl was dead. Murdered.

He wished his cries and Beth's screams would have kept him from understanding what they explained, choosing carefully their words that stabbed him. She suffered. Raped. Suffocated to death. Alone. His shiny gorgeous 5 year old princess died alone, life slowly leaving her tiny body. All had gotten blurry since, Beth's grip on him loosened as she fell on her knees, his own life and sanity running away as well.

He failed. He failed to protect his daughter, abducted almost under his nose the week before. They just were in the park, Charlie playing in the playground, Beth on his lap, whispering in his ear the naughty things she planned to do to him later in bed. The last thing he remembered of that Sunday was the laughter of both his wife and child.

He failed to take care of his wife from that day on. How could he have managed to bring happiness back on her face? He himself was so dead inside, so devastated it was hard to breathe. They both lost everything that day, and all the love in the world could not have been enough to make it up. Never.

He swore to himself he would keep living, a useless life if it's still could be called a life. Kissing a last time Beth's lips, he swore he would stay alive to pay for his faults. Suffer all his daughter had endured. Suffer all his wife had cried. He had no more to cry. No more to feel but pain. Acid would be the only fluid allowed to run through his veins. Rage and vengeance as sole company.

Yeah, cold ass wind felt pretty good compared to those memories. He continued walking in the dark night, purposeless, directionless, homeless. That's the best he deserved. Shoving his frozen hands deeper in his coat's pockets, he tightened his grip on the gun, still warm from its latest shot. The knife still covered with the blood of the latest life he took, just a couple of minutes ago.

He didn't even know the asshole's real name. Whatever. That cunt begged him to not kill him. How ridiculous he seemed, crying for his mom as the blade of the knife traced the fatty shape of his throat. He peed himself, begging for his damn life, swearing to God he would quit drug dealing if he had mercy but it was no use. Killing people had been his redemption.

The detectives in charge with the murder of Charlotte proved totally helpless. Real zero. Sincerely sorry, mister, but the clues don't lead anywhere. The evidences don't speak. DNA and all that shit were as silent as his prays. The guy they had in sight was not the good one.

Fuck DNA. Fuck his perfect alibi. Fuck the procedure. Fuck the cops, fuck everything. Like he had something else to do. Something else to think about. Someone else to chase.

Beth stayed at home, unable to come with him to the morgue to identify Charlotte's body. Unable to move, to eat, to breathe. Unable to speak. Unable to even look up at him.

She'd been a ghost, a shell of herself, but who could have blamed her for that? He himself had acted like a zombie, fighting hell to get up every morning, the only sight of his former sunshine, faded, cuddled in Charlie's little bed, the sheets still soaked with her tears, had been intolerable.

She wasn't there for the funeral, prostrated in their child's bedroom, Charlotte's bunny half torn in her hands. He stood alone before the grave, blankly staring at the tiny coffin, what's left of his and Beth's family surrounding him. He felt so empty, so alone, a glimpse of what his life would look like. Any miracle happened. Any laugh of Charlie to be heard. Any nightmare to wake up from.

The only spark of life shone in his eyes when he dipped the knife in the asshole's throat, his warm blood spurting out with ferocity. Then slowed down. Then nothing. Nothingness again. Nothing to fill the void. Fuck.

It started with Dick. The guy suspected by the cops. The guy with the airtight alibi and the wrong DNA. He caught his name on a file, open on the detective's desk, while being said by the detective that the investigation hadn't made any progress. A name and an address. Which he hunt down. Which he found out. Which he had stalked for days. Wishing he would recognize his face as someone wandering in the park, or waiting in front of the school. With no luck. Total stranger. Who cared? He didn't.

He got a gun, he found cash at home. Beth didn't question him. Beth didn't ask anything. She even didn't notice he was home. Neither did she notice he left. He came back to Dick's place, at night and broke into the dirty and messy home. Surprised him. Scared the shit out of him. He was amazed with what ease he threatened the guy. Beat him up. Coldly and rudely interrogated him. The way his hands expertedly held the gun under his nose, without shaking even a bit. He felt a weird excitement, witnessing the guy dissolved by fear, sweating heavily. He felt calm, powerful and good. For the first time in what seemed ages, he felt alive.

He got a name. Dick was a dick, a cunt, the biggest pussy of many he would kill. How funny. He shove the barrel deep inside Dick's mouth after he spilled out his mate's name. Garry. He pulled the trigger, a smirk gracing his lips as he watched Dick's skull exploding, his brain matter spread all over the floor, furniture and on his own face and clothes. And breathed. Deeply. The smell of gunpowder burning the air, the smell of warm blood tickling his nostrils. The smell of death bringing him back to life. His brain back to thinking again. He headed to the bathroom, mentally counting the seconds, according to himself 60 of them to puck out in the toilet, flushing it, quickly cleaning up his face and clothes, getting rid as far as he could of the traces of his execution.

He left without a glance to the murder scene, his feet walking him straight through the back door. The fence was broken, he went through it and emerged in a muddy road, his footsteps marking the ground. Shit. After only 3 or 5 steps, he jumped in the nearby creek, and walked up the icy stream for what seemed a billion miles.

He silently opened the door of his bleak home, trying his best to not wake up Beth as he cleaned up his mess and burned his clothes in the fireplace. Like she could have heard him or felt the murderer he just became, with all the drugs and desperation flowing through her system. Like she would have given a shit.

She had been his first and only one. The love of his life, you know, like in the fairy tales he was used to read to Charlotte. Love at the first sigh, yeah, a fucking huge one. He'd been a bad guy, a little thug of the back streets of his neighbourhood, a big boss in the making. Nothing huge, no drugs dealing or pimping just snatch theft and car jacking. His mother's fault, whose mom died without warning, leaving their only 3 and a half boy, be raised by an incompetent father, too busy to drown his sorrow in alcohol to slap his face and kick his butt when he started to go off the rails? He was just begging for attention, nothing more. And maybe a hug, or a word. But no. Hanging out down the streets with his gang of pimple faced teens, looking for trouble was all he had.

Until he found her. Until his eyes laid on the beautiful shape of her neck. And fell for it instantly. How the hell could you fall in love with a neck? He stopped in his tracks, unable to take his eyes off of her, as she climbed in a black car, throwing what obviously looked like a gym bag into the backseat. He caught the driver's words, as he mumbled "You're welcome miss Mary Elizabeth"

as he held the door open for her. Amazed by the way she was moving, her natural grace and the delicacy of her curves -and that fucking perfection of her neck, emphasized by a bun perched high on her scalp and naked shoulders just covered by the straps of her top- he forgot about his badasses of mates and the "break into cars" night they planned.

Mary-Elizabeth. A goddess obviously. Unreachable just by the name she wore. And the black BMW with chauffeur. Who cared? Who fucking cared when it's about the love of your life? Not him. No, she would be his, one way or another. He found himself praying whatever God that she noticed him, his life had been such a waste from the very beginning, he deserved a second chance, he deserved some luck.

God make it happen.

And it happened. The second before the back door snapped close, she caught his stare. The smirk on her face lightly mocking his stupid mug, as he stayed slack jawed with wonder. Her. His new everything.

"Already told you to call me Beth for fuck sake." She groaned at the chauffeur.

Beth he sighed. Her name rang like a kiss and her eyes shone like diamonds. She looked like a dream.

Those dreamy eyes still watching him, suddenly flashed a wink. At him. God did it really happen? Too late, the car was gone.

His mates slapping the back of his head made him come back from this beautiful dream, but he didn't care. Fuck them all.

He swore to himself and to God or whatever his name was that from then on, he would do anything he could to have her. Beth.

And that's just what he did. He came back every evening after school, at 6pm in front of the building where she had her dancing class and just wait for her to show up. Tuesdays and Fridays were his favourite, he found out there were those evenings she practiced ballet. She was a ballerina. Divine in her pink ballet skirt.

After 2 weeks of stalking her through the window, he dared to speak to her. She was haughty at first, who was that weirdo who barely could string two words together at the end of her class, but she decided he was cute.

Cute was not enough. He was totally devoted to her. Waiting outside in the cold night, that amazing smile taped on his face each time she glanced at him. After another week, they chatted and laughed a bit before she rushed inside the black BMW and vanished, leaving him starving for 3 more days. After a month, she told him he didn't have to freeze his ass outside and could come inside and watched the entire course. For his greatest pleasure. Marveling at his dreamy ballerina as she danced and twirled like a goddess, her arms and hips gracefully waving to the music just turned him on and he couldn't help but drooling at the view. He couldn't wait for more.

That day, he welcomed her with a red rose and she kissed him on the cheek. And all had changed between the two of them. He was hooked, she liked the way he stared at her, without restrain. She definitely fell for him the day he kissed her on the lips, after shyly asking for her permission. The kiss was perfect, he waited for her to slip her tongue in his mouth and despite his obvious desire, he didn't push her, never crossed the line.

She, on the other hand, was eager to go further, even if she was aware that her parents would never allow that relationship. They were from two different, opposite worlds. Her dad came one day, the chauffeur spilled the bean, and threatened him of pursue if he'd ever dare to touch her. She was underage and he wouldn't hesitate to file charges against him, which he surely would have done. His criminal record was far from being clean. She was 17 then, he was 15. She cried when telling him they had to stop, they had to wait until she was 18, 7 months ahead. He swore he would wait for her, he swore he would be the man she deserved, he cupped her face and gave her the most passionate kiss he could. He let out a tear as he stared at her, confessing his love for her.

"Beth, I love you." He just said. "See you there on April 4th." Then offered her one of his stunning smiles and disappeared. For the next 7 fucking months.

He quit doing mischiefs and larcenies, dropped down his boys, went back to school, got a job and saved as much money as he could to achieve his plan.

April 4th was a Friday. He was waiting for her, sat on the edge of the sidewalk, a huge bouquet of 18 roses on his lap. No wonder she skipped dance class that day, they ran hand in hand to the nearest hotel he had booked a room in. Not the cheapest motel, full of whores and truck drivers, no, a fancy honeymoon suite in a 5 stars hotel. The roses remained on the sidewalk, abandoned.

They were both virgins and he promised her to be gentle. He didn't lie. Holding back the urge to rip off her clothes, he slowly covered every piece of her delicate skin with his lips, his hands working gingerly on her jeans. Left only in her underwear, she shivered in anticipation, aroused only by the way he was looking at her.

"Do you want me?" He asked, his hands lightly resting on her hips. She couldn't say anything, tongue tied by her own lust and his gentleness. She just nodded and let him walked them to the edge of the king size bed, where he laid her carefully. He made love to her, tenderly, beautifully, his face buried in the crook of that neck he loved so much, kissing and stroking every inch he could. She was fucking tight inside but she felt so good. Fighting hell to make it last as long as she needed, he lost his mind when hearing her cries as she reached her first orgasm and joined her, coming deep inside her, his seed filling her core.

"Happy birthday my love." He whispered in her ear when finally able to breathe. Still high from this Earth shattering experience, he let his mind wonder on what their lives could be. Flashes of Beth in a wedding gown, Beth wearing a swollen belly, heavy with their child, Beth's smile in the kitchen of their new house, wiggling under his touch, danced in his head. Those beautiful thoughts were interrupted by her lips on his chest, her shiny eyes begging for another round.

They spent the rest of the day under the sheets, trying all they had imagined to do to each other the last 200 nights.

Her birthday gift for his 16 was quite surprising. And frightening as well. A pregnancy test. Positive. She was anxiously waiting for him to react, tears threatening behind her lids. He stared at her in shock while she was biting her lower lip nervously. Then exploded in joy. A baby. The fruit of their love. He already planned to marry her and have children with her. 3 at least. So this pregnancy had to happen. It was just a little sooner than expected, that's all. They cried as they realized their lives were about to change forever, that they would be bound with that loved child, come what may. They cried as they realized they had to tell the news to Beth's parents.

"Come what may baby, I'll take care of you both." He rocked her, stroking her still flat belly. "Don't fear you father, because I'm your family now." His features had changed saying those words. He was not a boy anymore, the badass teenager was over. His voice was reassuring and low, he became a man saying that, her man. He had to behave like a real man, he was the head of his family now.

"Beth, I want to marry you. I want you to be my wife, I want you to be mine. I want to cherish and love you and our baby every single day. I knew you were the one the second I saw you. I can't believe all this is really happening but if it's a dream, I never want to wake up. Marry me, my love, make my dreams come true."

She cried happy tears he dried with his kisses, and they cried together after she said yes. The dream was coming true.

The dream turned into a nightmare when the fist of Beth's father connected with his jaw, throwing him onto the marble floor of the living room. He called his daughter a whore and slapped her cheek so hard her lips bled. Within the second, he was up, Beth gripping his waist as he protected her with his body, her dad's nose bleeding from his punch.

"This thing is not going to happen!" He yelled at her, pointing at her stomach. "And that thing better has to never lay eyes on you again or I'll kill him with my bare hands" he spat at him. Staring angrily at her daughter's hand laced with his, her father forced her to choose. And she chose him.

The expected disaster that followed included cries, threats, insults, screams and more cries. They ended up banished from Beth's parents home, deprived of their wealth and erased from their lives.

She was homeless, desperate, disinherited, pregnant with his child, he was scared as fuck. That asshole told him some home truths, he couldn't ignore, some sounded relevant. How could he afford a family? He was still a child himself. He was an ignorant scumbag, just able to ruin Beth's life.

That last sentence had haunted him for days, but he was not ready to give up. He would make a liar out off that asshole. They settled down in a small flat his boss rented him for almost nothing but free extra hours. He found a second job, working his ass off more than 16 hours a day. He came back home at night, exhausted but so happy to crash on their couch, his head laying on her baby bump.

She wanted to help, he disagreed. They argued, she won. She was smart and quickly earned a reasonable amount of money with private tutoring. She had a wealthy address book.

He nontheless made her swear to stop working the second she would feel tired, he wanted her to stay healthy for their baby.

Their little Dawn, their baby girl. Life gave them just a taste of happiness before taking it back. Little Dawn died even before she was born. Her heart stopped beating when she was still in her mother's womb for no reason.

No reason but the curse he had on himself. His mother first then his unborn baby. The doctor who performed the sonography uneasily explained it was no-one's fault, that that kind of things just happened, but he knew he was guilty. And Beth's father's worlds hit him in the face again: he successfully ruined Beth's life.

They cried and mourned and cried again. She had to give birth to their stillborn baby, she insisted to see her, named her, hold her. He knew she was doing the right thing but it was just horrible. She was 6 months and she was beautiful. Her tiny face had haunted his nightmares for months, and he almost lost his mind.

"Honey, get your shit together." She told him one night, as she caught him silently crying. "We're still young, we will conceive again, when time comes." She promised, lovingly stroking his face.

"OK." He just said, whipping his tears and rolling over her to show how much he loved her. Bringing them both into ecstasy, he swore he would make everything he could to protect her. She had been stronger than him, she was the one who helped him healing his wounds. But he knew she wouldn't survive another doom.

Garry could have been the key. Killing him could have fixed things. He could have come home and explained his wife he avenged the murder of Charlotte. And maybe, bringing Beth back to life, maybe allowing them to start over. Once again, bad luck. Garry didn't know anything about Charlotte. He confessed other crimes, other child rapes, but he was only into boys. That was when he succumbed to raving madness.

Charlotte and all those little boys' faces and screams, their pains, their fears, their slow deaths, their tiny damaged and wrecked bodies, assaulted his mind. His little princess begging him to save her, her little voice screaming his name, daddy!

His sight got blurry with acid tears, bile invaded his mouth, and he lost it. Completely. Wrath and hate boiled in his veins, his hand almost crashed the gun grip, he had to bite his lips to blood not to howl. He couldn't stand those screams in his head, neither could he keep listening to Garry's pleas. His fist tightened on the grip and let the beast out. The gun grip crashed on Garry's face again and again, the sounds of his facial bones exploding under his violent blows, the gurgles of his breath choking with blood were music to his ears. Rage turned into madness as he kept destroying the guy's face. He even started to find some fun in it. The blood splashed all around with each hit, and he didn't plan to stop before Garry's mug looked like ground meat. He already exploded both of his knees with a bullet, fired at point-blank range on the kneecap, to make him spit out his crimes. Successfully. The adrenalin running through his veins was highly addictive, a hard drug he would need another shot very soon.

Garry was not the one who raped and killed his little baby doll, and her mother in the same time. He had no more clue, no more tracks to follow.

Three weeks. Three weeks that Beth had died. Three weeks that he's been aimlessly wandering through the city, searching for a reason to live. The two loves of his life were gone, he replaced them with the gun and the knife. He trade his sanity with madness. This was meant to be. He was meant to be alone. Beth made him a good guy, Charlotte made him a happy one. Their loss made sense, his fate was to be alone, his heart exploded in so many pieces there was nothing left.

He did a good job, getting rid of 12 assholes in only 3 weeks. Dick and Garry. That guy he saw hitting his girlfriend like she was a punching ball. That guy dealing heroin and handing out ecstasy like it was candies, right in front of high school entrance. That pervert he found in the park, his hand in his pants while watching young cheerleaders rehearsing their show. Oh he had been particularly careful with this one, making the torture last longer than necessary. They all could have been his little Charlie. 3 drug dealers, famous or not, an asshole who was harassing a waitress at the end of her shift, a crooked cop from D.E.A., another from vice squad, who trade his leniency for blowjobs, and... he already forgot. Surely someone who deserved to die. Each time he took a life was better than the previous, his hands more and more experted to make the assholes scream for mercy.

"Hey, honey, do you need company?" A voice called him.

He studied the girl. Even in the dark and dressed like the whore she was, she looked desirable. Extremely fuckable. And her hair tied up in a messy bun showed the delicate shape of her neck.

Maybe he could pretend she's Beth for a round or two. He had been so busy slaughtering pricks he hadn't be aware of his needs. He hadn't had sex since Charlie was abducted, months ago. Not like he really needed it but it could fill the void and help time to pass.

"What's your name, handsome?" She stroked his stubble, making him hiss in disgust.

"I'm nobody." He bluntly answered and grabbed her arm. As she led him inside a dirty hallway to a more dirty room, that smelled sex and musty, he knew it was a mistake. Every single person he loved died. He shook his head. Who was he kidding; it had nothing to do with love. He was going to fuck that whore and leave. Maybe, if he would fail coming, he could play with her, with his gun or his knife, and feel something. She surely wouldn't deserve to die, she was not his usual kind of clients.

But beside Beth and Charlotte, life had been cruel to him. It was fair he was cruel to life. He tried to focus on what she was doing, knelt in front of him, working on his cock. He closed his eyes and forced himself to feel Beth's sweet lips around him, but he was not in the mood. He let his hands wandering along her bare shoulders to her neck, but her skin was not as soft as his late wife. He caught himself considering to squeeze, squeeze until her skin turned blue. No. He had rules. No women. No kids. Only felons and scums of the world. Assholes that justice failed to lock up in holes. This girl might have a family. Kids, hubby, parents, waiting for her somewhere. Shit, his cock seemed to appreciate that thought. Not the family thing, fuck, her parents must have failed somehow, you don't raise your daughter to suck dicks. No, his erection hardened at the thought of the girl choking with it. As he pushed himself farther in her throat, he heard the sounds she was making. Searching for air.

Last chance. His last bit of sanity warned him. He still could either come back to his sense or run away. Beth. Charlotte. Dawn. He heard them laughing as he finally came. And squeeze.

@jaicourtneyseyes @tigpooh67 @bookgirlsthing @captainstefanbrandt @lunaschild2016 @kenzieam @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 

[littlev1234]

The Young Build Homes - Chapter 1

Fandom: Yowamushi Pedal

Warnings: blood, violence, bullying, homophobic language, death

Words: 4,255

AO3 version: The Young Build Homes

Next Chapter: [Next]

Summary: “Maybe, he thought, there aren’t any such things as good friends or bad friends—maybe there are just friends, people who stand by you when you’re hurt and who help you feel not so lonely. Maybe they’re always worth being scared for, and hoping for, and living for. Maybe worth dying for, too, if that’s what has to be. No good friends. No bad friends. Only people you want, need to be with; people who build their houses in your heart.” – Stephen King, It

A Yowamushi Pedal It AU.

Notes: Please make sure to read the warnings for each chapter. Pennywise will work a little differently in this fic (but the big things like scaring and killing are still very much present). The only main pairing is Miki/Aya; all others will be implied or in the background.

“…high schooler with green and red hair. He was last seen leaving school on Monday afternoon. If anyone has any information regarding his disappearance, please call the emergency hotline…”

As the newswoman switched to an economics report, the young man watching the dim colors of the old boxy television set crossed his arms. He rolled the plastic toothpick between his lips from one side of his mouth to the other as his pensive frown deepened.

“Why can’t I shake off this bad feeling…?” he mumbled. He leaned back on the box he sat on and stretched out his legs, one of which gave a familiar twinge. Absently rubbing his knee—the old injury had ached especially fierce all day—he made sure to avoid bumping his foot into one of the many boxes strewn about the tiny break room.

Logically, the connection between four years ago and this incident was fragile at best. Yet last night’s nightmare flashed across his mind again: the agonized screams ripping out of his own throat, razor-sharp teeth gouging into his knee, the burn of his back scraping against tree roots and uneven ground as claws mercilessly dragged him across the forest floor—

His lungs stuttered with quickened, distressed breaths. Holding his head between his quavering hands, he forced himself to focus on the grounding habit of chewing on and restlessly toying with the toothpick.

Bite, chew, roll. Bite, chew, roll. Bite, chew, roll.

It soon poked the top of his mouth; he must have bent it. But it served its purpose. Just calm enough to string together coherent thought, he spat it out onto his palm and surveyed the damaged stick.

Thanking the fact that his younger sister wasn’t there, he resolved to avoid falling into flashbacks again. The best he could, anyway.

Turning off the television, he cast aside his suspicions. The nightmare had put him on edge, and his brain was making links that weren’t there. That must be it.

Yet he knew that he’d be keeping a closer eye on the news from now on.

Standing, he tossed the toothpick into a nearby trash can, picked up the little container sitting on top of the TV, and shook out a new one. After placing it between his lips, he left the room and closed the door behind him.

--

                                                     Onoda

“We’re going to do a group project starting today. Make groups of three to four people, and then I’ll give you the assignment.”

Shoes scuffed against the floor as students rose from their desks and chatter filled the air. Onoda stared at the artificial wood grain of his desk, and his heart thumped at the prospect of working with potentially uncouth classmates. Since he was not close to anyone in this class, he hoped for the best case scenario: a few stragglers would find themselves wandering to his desk, where they could awkwardly divvy out the work and not speak to each other until the day it was due.

“Onoda, right?”

He looked up as two boys stopped in front of his desk. The one who spoke he recognized as Teshima, an intelligent upperclassman with dark wavy hair. Beside him stood Aoyagi, a far quieter yet subtly strong presence. While Onoda rarely spoke with them, they had never showed hostility toward him in the past, so he heaved an internal sigh of relief.

For a moment his gaze was drawn to the white bandages peeking out from underneath Aoyagi’s bangs, which covered most of where his eye would normally be. A week ago the boy had come to school like that, with the area above his right cheekbone swathed in gauze. And if he was quiet before, then he was nearly silent now. Everyone also took note of how the already close pair were now inseparable, as if Teshima feared letting the other out of his sight. Countless rumors were still running through the halls about them: they’re totally dating and a jealous ex of Teshima’s attacked him, I heard Aoyagi lost his eye by falling on a railroad spike, maybe he stabbed himself and Teshima’s making sure he doesn’t do it again.

Whatever caused the injury, Onoda made sure to not let his gaze linger too long and looked back at Teshima. “Yes, that’s me!” he responded with a tad too much force.

Luckily the two didn’t seem fazed, and Teshima offered him an easygoing smile. “Can we join you?”

After meekly nodding, the pair pulled up chairs, slid them in front of his desk, and sat down.

“We’ll probably have to make some sort of slide show for one of the books we read,” Teshima guessed.

Aoyagi gave a thoughtful hum in response.

“Oh, good point. She did say she wanted us to at least one speech in this class.”

Onoda glanced between them in confusion. How did he get that from Aoyagi’s hum? “A-Ah, well, I hope it’s not a speech. I’m terrible at those.”

“Don’t worry, I can give you pointers if that does happen. And we won’t have to talk up there alone at least,” Teshima reassured.

Despite his misgivings about public speaking, he had to admit that the other’s words managed to ease a sliver of his worry.

When Aoyagi placed a phone in front of him, Onoda blinked at the “new contact” screen several times before he realized what the other was asking. “…you want my phone number?” He tentatively picked up the phone, added his full name and number, and then handed it back to Aoyagi, who checked the screen and gave a satisfied nod.

“Just in case we have to talk outside of school,” Teshima elaborated. Before he could say more, the teacher started handing out their assignments—it was just a slide show project, thank god. The students would be listlessly staring at the slides instead of being forced to focus to focus on him anxiously slogging through a speech.

The three spent the rest of the period discussing their topic, and Onoda was eternally grateful that his partners seemed amiable and easy to work with.

--

Exiting the classroom with books and folders held against his chest, Onoda glanced down at the Love Hime bookmark sticking out of a textbook. On the glossy paper, a purple-haired anime smiled brightly back at him while soft pink bubbles covered the background. Somehow it had almost fallen out of the top of the book; he pinched it between his fingers and slid it back between the pages.

Just as he started to lift his head, he collided with a solid torso and stumbled. His books tumbled from his fingers.

Panic flared in his chest and tightened his throat. “I-I’m so sorry!” Hastily dropping to his knees to pick up his scattered belongings, he was all too aware of the eyes on him that he couldn’t bring himself to face.

“Ugh, it’s that weird guy.” An unfamiliar voice scoffed to his right. Onoda bit his lip to stop it from trembling. “I bet he was too busy thinking about kinky cartoon shit to look where he was going.”

“Oi.”

He flinched at the sharp voice directly in front of him—that second one must be who he bumped into. Keeping his terrified gaze firmly on the floor, he snatched up the last paper with shaking hands. Squeaking out another “s-sorry!” he scrambled to his feet started rushing down the hallway.

A hand flew out and grasped his shoulder.

Inhaling sharply, he jerked away from the touch and accidentally slammed himself against a locker door. Past the ringing in his ears he caught another voice.

“Onoda! Onoda, it’s us, it’s okay!”

Naruko. Instantly his shoulders slumped with relief, and he released a jittery sigh. Finally lifting his gaze, he caught the redhead’s concerned expression. Miki and Aya, standing on either side of Naruko, also cast him worried looks.

“Did something happen?” Miki gently questioned.

Aya started rolling up her sleeves to reveal leanly muscled forearms. “Did someone pick on you?”

“No, no, it’s fine, just a little uh,” he quickly rambled. The moment had been horrific, but he had gotten off with only a couple insults. It could have been a lot worse. “I bumped into someone. I was so scared that I picked up my things and ran off! That’s all.”

“You sure that’s all? Because Aya and I can go find the bastard and beat him to a pulp,” Naruko promised, resolve sparking in his red eyes like embers ready to catch fire at the slightest gust.

Seeing them worry over his wellbeing and rise to his defense never failed to stir warmth in his heart. Even so, he smiled gratefully and shook his head. He had no desire to harm—it had been his fault the altercation happened anyway—and he didn’t want his friends to get themselves injured either. Naruko and Aya were persistent, fiery fighters when they wanted to be. But even they could only do so much against bigger bullies who always moved in packs, as proved by the blotchy bruise on Naruko’s thin arm.

“I’m sure. Thanks.” Noticing one of their usual group members was absent, he glanced around. “Where’s Manami?”

“He wasn’t in class,” Miki recalled.

Aya rolled her eyes. “Like that’s any surprise. He only shows up half the time.”

“I’ll text him in a minute. He might still want to hang out with us later,” Onoda said.

Naruko slung an arm around his shoulders, and he flashed a toothy grin. “Speaking of that! Miki, you said your brother is tossing out the expired snacks today, right?” Miki’s brother ran a convenience store, and whenever he built up on expired stock that he couldn’t sell to customers, he left it to her and her friends.

“Yep!”

“Sweet! I call dibs on the hot Cheetas.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Onoda noticed someone walk up to the nearby bulletin board adorning the opposite wall.

“Is there something new on there?” Naruko asked as he and the others looked over as well.

“I don’t think so…but someone’s looking at it,” the bespectacled male responded.

In the center of the board, surrounded by the lunch menu and flyers discouraging drugs and sex, was a missing poster. The disgruntled expression of a slim, angular face with green hair faced the passing students. A corner was slightly creased; the paper had hung there for a month now, so it was a wonder it hadn’t received more damage. Yet the person surveyed the poster as if he might find something new by searching long enough.

“I think that’s Toudou. I’ve seen him looking at the board a few times, but usually in the mornings.” Even though there was no possibility Toudou could overhear them, Miki lowered her voice nonetheless.

Unable to see his face, they watched his thumb tenderly smooth out the crease on the poster.

“They still don’t have any leads, do they?” Onoda morosely mumbled.

Aya shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

Receiving the distinct feeling that they were intruding upon an intimate scene, despite the students talking and milling about the open hallways, they were about to look away when several students approached Toudou. Like a mood switch had been flipped, his mouth morphed into a charismatic smile as he said some smug, flirtatious remark that left a few people swooning.

“…hey.”

Onoda’s heart missed a beat. That voice…and it’s close…!

He took a deep breath. His friends were beside him, everything would be all right, and no punches had been thrown yet. Those were all good signs. Probably. Maybe he just wanted to warn him not to bump into him again?

Turning with his pulse pounding, he faced the tall male looking directly at him. Before he could wilt under the stern gaze, Miki stepped forward to divert the other’s attention.

“Hi,” she calmly greeted. Her sunny smile worked as a soft barrier against possible animosity; whether the gesture grew genuine or turned into a steely frown depended on the stranger’s next lines.

He glanced away and rubbed the back of his neck. While his mouth remained in a set, stern line, the actions almost made it seem…like he felt awkward?

“I saw this on the floor after you left. I’m assuming it’s yours.” He held out the Love Hime bookmark.

Onoda hesitated in surprise. “I…yeah, that’s mine.” He gingerly accepted it and slipped it between random pages of his math textbook.

The subtle tension in Miki’s shoulders dissipated, and in turn so did Aya’s. Naruko still eyed the other distrustfully.

“What’s your game?” Naruko demanded. “I recognize you. You’re that popular hotshot Imaizumi, aren’t you? Did someone dare you to come over here?”

“Nothing, yes, and no,” Imaizumi coolly answered. “Are you done interrogating someone twice your size?”

“What did you just say—”

Aya placed a hand on her hip. “Can’t blame us for asking. Most people who walk up to us don’t have good intentions in mind.”

“Actually, I think I recognize you too. You’re in my art class,” Miki realized.

Imaizumi nodded. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he checked the screen. “I have to go.”

“Wait!” The outburst left Onoda’s lips before he thought better of it. Sheepish at Imaizumi’s raised eyebrow, he swallowed and continued. “Ah, thank you! For giving my bookmark back. It really means a lot.”

His gaze flicked away again. “…you’re welcome. And that asshole I was with…ignore everything he said.”

Without giving them time to respond, Imaizumi turned and headed down the hall. Still uncertain what to make of the exchange, the group turned back to each other.

“He seemed nice,” Miki remarked.

“I dunno about that…something about him rubs me the wrong way. But he did give Onoda’s thing back, so he’s not on my immediate shit list,” Naruko grumbled.

Aya abruptly, if lightly, smacked Onoda across the back of his head, and he gave a startled yelp. “Ignore everything an asshole said? So someone was mean to you!”

“A-Ah! Um, there was some mean stuff…but no one physically hurt me, I swear!”

“And it’s over with now,” Miki assured her, and she grasped the other female’s hand. Aya clicked her tongue at the obvious attempt to calm her, but she curled her fingers around Miki’s hand nonetheless. “And Onoda says he’s okay. But next time you will tell us if someone hurts you again, right?”

“Yeah,” Onoda agreed, and he hoped he could stick to that promise. He appreciated that his friends would defend him, he really did; yet sometimes words stuck in his throat, and he’d rather ignore the bad stuff that happened than talk about it.

Naruko hummed in satisfaction. “Good! We gotta watch out for each other. And it’s not like you’re the only one who needs help; I know Aya would beat the hell out of anyone who tries to touch me. Not that there’s no one I can’t fight myself, but that’s not the point!”

“Damn straight I would,” Aya confirmed.

“Oh! Sorry to change the subject, but I just realized what time it is,” Miki commented, glancing at her phone. “We should hurry before my brother starts wondering where we are.”

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s go!” Naruko led the way, and the other three had to quicken their steps to catch up. Once through the doors, he slowed to a walking pace due to Aya and Onoda’s complaints.

Onoda fell into step beside Naruko, while Miki and Aya led the way, hands still joined. He shot a quick text to Manami about where they were going and stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

A random student that strode by them loudly whispered to another student. “There go the lesbos; can’t believe they’re still hanging out with those boys. I thought all lesbos are manhaters.”

“Piss off,” Naruko growled, even though the aggressors were likely out of earshot. Aya scowled and flipped the bird to their backs, and Miki threaded her fingers through Aya’s instead of letting go.

Onoda’s grip on his books tightened. Outrage simmered, yet he didn’t know what to do with it. Aya and Naruko usually channeled their aggression into fights and spitting insults, but the bespectacled male had all the strength of a baby bird. Miki countered with passionate, silver-tongued rebuttals of defense. However, he was terrible with keeping composure. Maybe he could act more like Manami? Manami deflected slurs like he couldn’t care less what others thought, but the second hate was directed toward a friend he would gain an almost unstable gleam to his eyes that scared off many. Too bad Onoda was as scary as a hamster.

He wanted to help, wanted to protect his friends, and he despised that he was so useless at it. All he could do was take hits meant for them when possible and support them in the aftermath.

Naruko was talking again. Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Onoda smiled back and responded. The four left the school grounds without further incident, and thanks to their amiable conversations he found his mood lifting.

A few blocks down the street stood a small retail store. The outside was tan brick and tall windows. Across the top in bold blue paint read “Kanzaki Konvenience.”

They entered through the front door. Miki’s older brother, Kanzaki Toji, waved at them from the register.

“Yo,” he greeted, the ever-present toothpick moving as he spoke. “The stuff’s in the backroom for you all to go through.”

“Awesome! I’m getting those hot Cheetas!”

“Fine, but you better not get in between me and the Sour Batch Brats!”

Aya and Naruko rushed to the back. Onoda and Miki gave fond, amused sighs as Kanzaki chuckled.

“Good to know their appetites are healthy,” Kanzaki commented, tone light with sarcasm. “So, did you all have a good day at school?”

Both teenagers hesitated.

Smile diminishing with empathy, Kanzaki ran a hand through his hair. “Not so great, I’m guessing.”

“It could have been worse,” Miki piped up.

Onoda nodded. “That’s true…I did meet three nice people today. There are these two guys I have to do a project with. One of them is quiet, so I never know what he’s thinking. But some people are just quiet, ah, kind of like me when I get scared. Anyway, the other one’s nice and good at schoolwork. Then the third guy, Imaizumi. He gave me back my bookmark…looking back on it, he was so cool, facing Miki like that…!” His giddy smile had widened with each fond sentence.

She grabbed his arm, her grin matching his. “He really was cool! Especially the way he answered Naruko like that.”

The muffled squeaking of a plastic bag being yanked open came through the cracked door.

“Hate to interrupt you two, but you should get back there before all the snacks are taken,” Kanzaki advised.

“Right! We’ll let you get back to work,” Miki said over her shoulder as she went into the backroom.  

“One more thing, Onoda.”

“Hm?” He paused right before he reached the door.

“When you go home from here, you use the road with the Tadokoro bakery, right?”

“Yes?”

Kanzaki plucked the toothpick from his lips and held it between his fingers. “The Tadokoros adopted two big dogs today. I’m sure they’ll stay in the yard, but I wanted to let you know.”

Dogs. Onoda could handle the little ones, as uneasy as they made him. But the loud, booming barks and massive size of larger canines never failed to set him on edge. No matter how well trained they were, he couldn’t ignore how easily such animals could maim him if they chose to.

He nodded gratefully. “I-I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, he left to join the others. Haphazardly piled onto the floor and on boxes, various expired snacks waited patiently for their stomachs. Naruko finished gorging on a bag of hot Cheetos before grabbing more bags of chips with his cheese dust covered fingers. He then stuffed them into his ratty backpack. He always gathered more than his friends; he would divide it up at home amongst himself and his family.

Miki and Aya sat shoulder to shoulder, and Onoda plopped down right next to a stack of chocolate bars, one of which he promptly opened and bit into.

Miki curiously checked the ingredients on the back of a box of Watermelon Bop-Tarts. “Dextrose, malic acid, xanthum gum, red 40 lake…I wonder how they come up with these names.”

“They sound dangerous for something we’re supposed to eat,” Onoda nonchalantly commented. He then bit another chunk off his chocolate and, when she opened the Bop-Tart box and handed a package to him, he accepted it without the slightest hint of concern.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take!” Naruko moved his fingers to his mouth, about to lick off the cheese dust, when a packet of wet wipes lightly smacked into his arm.

“You touched stuff with those fingers.” Miki nodded her head at his backpack. “Don’t put them in your mouth.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled and moodily cleaned his fingers with a wet wipe.

The door opened once more. They looked up to see Manami, who sported his usual airy grin. A few leaves stuck to his wrinkled shirt, and a twig was caught in his hair.

“Manami!” Onoda happily greeted. “We were wondering where you were.”

“You look like you just climbed a tree,” Aya remarked.

Sitting between Onoda and Naruko, Manami plucked a wipe out of the packet sitting on the redhead’s lap. “I did.”

Confusion flashed over the others’ faces—only for them to shrug it off a few seconds later.

“I didn’t know you were good at climbing trees,” Miki said.

Manami thoroughly sanitized his hands before dropped the used wipe on the floor. “I wanted to see what the forest looked like from higher up.”

Onoda cast him a wide-eyed, worried glance. The closest forest was on the border of Sohoku, and it was off limits! What if the bear that hurt Kanzaki four years ago came back?!

The blue-haired male noticed his look and cast him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I only climbed a tree at the very edge of the forest. It was fine.”

“Besides, nothing can kill a crazy bastard like him,” Aya reminded. Naruko nodded in agreement.

“Ah ha…I feel like there could have been a better way to put that…” Manami abashedly tugged at the collar of his shirt.

Still unconvinced, Onoda struggled to prevent his mind from falling into thoughts of what terrible events could have happened.

“Why don’t you tell us about the newest episode of Love Hime?” Manami suggested.

Catching on, Miki nodded. “I heard it was really intense.”

Onoda instantly brightened, all fear banished, and he excitedly clasped his hands together. “It was! It started off with a flashback to episode eleven, when…” He babbled on until he had gushed over every detail of the episode. While he caught his breath, the others struck up another silly conversation and started cleaning up wrappers. Then they gathered their piles and headed outside.

Right before they parted ways to head home, Onoda was relieved to hear Miki asking Manami to be more careful. The bespectacled male’s house was in the opposite direction of everyone else’s, so he walked home alone.

The familiar path presented no anxiety until he reached Tadokoro’s bakery. He made sure to stay on the opposite side of the narrow street. Even so, through the tall fence, which had gaps in between posts, he spotted wide canine noses curiously snuffling. No deep barks were directed his way, thank goodness. Hurrying past, he didn’t notice he was holding his breath until he was well away from the building.

He was grateful Kanzaki warned him beforehand; knowing they were there had allowed him to brace himself.

The rest of his walk went without incident, and soon enough he retreated into his house and joined his mother for dinner.

--

The next day, Teshima and Aoyagi weren’t in class.

While the other students moved back into their groups, Onoda checked his phone.

He hadn’t received any texts from them. However, they could just be busy with something else or sick and had forgotten to contact him.

Since they had his number but he didn’t have theirs—he should have asked for it in hindsight—he had no way to ask them where they were.

Oh well; they still had plenty of days left to finish their project, and they would likely be back tomorrow or the day after.

So he slid his phone back into his pocket, took out the assignment, and started working on his part while the other groups gossiped around him.

--

Two days later with still no word, Onoda woke to the abrupt, grating sound of a phone alert. Reluctantly rolling over, he patted his nightstand until his fingers found hard plastic and thin frames. In the dark of early morning, he slipped the glasses on and squinted against the brightness of the device’s screen.

His burning eyes shot wide open.

EMERGENCY ALERT

SOHOKU MISSING CHILDREN ALERT

Shock numbed all sensation except for the foreboding churning in his stomach.

His thumb hovered over the screen. He didn’t know how much time passed; the phone went dark from inaction.

As the sun’s rising rays peeked through the blinds, he finally opened the alert’s details and confirmed his premonition.